steps to midnight

10

10 great Jazz albums released in 1963  

Charles Mingus - The Black Saint And The Sinner Lady

Thelonious Monk - Monks Dream

John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman

Joe Henderson - Page One

Miles Davis - Seven Steps To Heaven

Kenny Burrell - Midnight Blue

Bill Evans - Conversations With Myself

Donald Byrd - A New Perspective

Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus and Max Roach - Money Jungle

John Coltrane - Impressions 10 great jazz albums

6

Neck Deep / Life’s Not Out to Get You

Submitting bc this idea has been building for a while, after reading your comic. I hope this isn’t presumptuous.

There are some places on the campus where space… folds.

If you step through this arch at midnight on a new moon when only starlight creates shadows you’ll step from the neatly-paved courtyard to the paired stones outside Tara. Thankfully the Good Neighbours there are used to it, and will tell you how to get back, though it might cost you the shirt off your back. Apparently they’re making a super-quilt.

There’s the small grove just at the edge of campus and in the middle of summer when the dragonflies drone and pollen spirals through shafts of sunlight like flakes of gold you really need to avoid the ring of Fly Agaric that sprung up after the stump of the old felled white oak rotted away. If you don’t, make sure you have some milk, or some cream, or a sack of really high quality charcoal. The Huldrekin at the other end might just send you back if you come bearing gifts, though if they especially like you they may keep you and send back a changeling instead.

There’s a twisting void in the stretching pond (and if you look at it through the trees of the grove it looks like it’s far larger than it is, a lake, not a pond) and yes, there’s the Nixies you know, and the melting sun-shy Asrai, the leather-capped Merrows, and the sealy Selkies you’ve come to recognise - they’re almost open about things, and if you’ve ever let one take you to bed you can see them all, waving at you. They’re probably the only ones which let you see, and won’t curse you for it.

(The seal-like teeth had freaked you out at first, but there is a reason Selkie lovers are reputed to help with heartbreak.)

(You remember that week fondly, and you still go down with pieces of unusual fish after there’s the market in town. It doesn’t hurt to maintain a good relationship with your ex, and especially not when they’re of the Good Neighbours.)

Generally, though, you won’t see the Sjora or the Havsra, the single, lone wish-granting Ceasg, the small amphibious Kallran, unless you are very polite. Usually your ex will introduce them for you and then, maybe, you’ll be allowed to See through, see the kelp-green hair or the needle-sharp teeth, or the wide-and-watching fishlike eyes. Sometimes, if the magics begun to permeate even you, you can smell the fish they’ve been eating.

There’s a cupboard in the cafeteria, affectionately called Narnia, and two Student Halls which everyone is reasonably certain are secretly entrances to an eternal party held by the Good Neighbours - it’s either that or, somehow, every year, the vapers and drinkers and party-ers all end up in these two halls, and end up rolling into their lectures 10 minutes late and with cups of Good Neighbour-made hangover cure. They’re tightlipped about what happened, but, well. Everyone assumes that’s the price of entry.

The science labs are free of these odd little folds, probably because of the iron, but the Law building is filled with them, as are the Arts departments. History has two doors in the East corridor that lead… elsewhen. Not elsewhere, elsewhen. Some of the students use them for history papers and cultural studies essays, but they have to be very careful if they ever intend to come back.

Twice now the budding archaeology department have done a practice dig only to find century-old bones that definitely show evidence of modern braces. And no one talks about the three-hundred year old FitBit.

(“You have walked 19,967 steps today!” It had shown in a pretty and definitely non-standard cursive when a … maybe changeling student had picked it up and wiped off the years. “You have 10% battery left. Please give me more magic!”)

(Now the techs are trying desperately to see if they can power their computers with magic. This would be easier if their building had less iron, but they aren’t about to move.)

(Not like the budget is going to let them.)

[X]

my cinderella wakes up with the taste of ashes in her mouth and thinks of her mother’s waning sickness. my cinderella has nightmares of watching her mother’s chest rising, a wheeze escaping her ribs. my cinderella does not cry about this, because she lives in the place fires begin.

her stepmother has perfect teeth and high eyebrows. “are you done sweeping?” she asks. “i need to see myself in my tiles.”

there are long days spent like this. sometimes cinderella gets caught on things. she spends four hours with a toothbrush swiveling in small circles, her whole body trembling. she thinks if everything is perfect, nothing bad will happen. if she checks the stove eight times, it will not poison her like her stepmother’s venom. if she lets the cat scratch her once a day, it will learn to love her. if she just gets these baseboards clean, maybe her father will come home to her.

the invitation comes when she is adjusting the pictures on the wall. it is announced with fanfare. her stepmother sends out the request for dresses instantly while cinderella watches, waiting.

“baby,” stepmother wakes her on the day of, “hope you know how long you’ll be working for today.” strokes her hair a little.

cinderella stares at her. doesn’t want to go to the ball, where people will be twirling around on floors someone else spent six hours polishing, where people will be careless in eating food someone else toiled over cooking. where people like her fade into the shadows.

when she opens her mouth, she says, “let me go, stepmother.” it is worth the look of shock and terror on that woman’s face to tell a lie. cinderella, after the slap, hides her face and smiles.

they leave trumpeting. her step sisters are cupcakes floating on shoes cinderella has sown together.

in the night, she rises from her bed and coaxes a little mouse onto her hands and snaps its little neck. 

boiling the fur of it off is easy. she feeds the bits to the cat, who twines around her feet. she takes the bones under the poplar tree and lays them out just-so. she says the words her mother used to know.

deep from the shadows comes the Fairy. pink and pretty with eyes that are totally empty. cinderella knows better than to look at them directly. “you summon me?” asks the ancient one. “what needs be done?”

cinderella does not want a ball. cinderella wants a night off. she explains slowly what she wants. she gives the Fairy three things: a needle. a fingernail. a strand of hair. the deal is done, midnight comes.

she dresses in her mother’s dress, hidden under the floorboards. it is beautiful, white, shines like a river. on her feet are no shoes at all. she wants to feel the ground that carries her, that has been tilled by people like her.

at the gates, they stop her. no carriage, nothing but a smile on her. but she’s so polite. so willing. has big fluttering eyelashes. lures the guards beyond the light of the castle’s torches. knows how to work a kitchen knife.

inside, she is blinded by the brightness of lamps on granite. everyone here is laughing. gliding. cinderella glides too, effortless without any shoes. 

her stepsisters hang off one another, have their arms draped off the prince. cinderella walks up. smiles. says the words her mother taught her. 

they erupt into screams. “needles” they howl, dancing in shoes cinderella made, “needles in my feet.” they bleed all over the floors someone worked hard for. “That,” says cinderella, “is one for me.”

the prince is without words. stepmother in her skirts tumbles as she skitters forwards. she is bubbling with improper language to speak in front of royals. on her hand is a nail chipped from slapping her stepdaughter. cinderella looks her in the eyes when she says the word. without a pause, violent scratches appear over her stepmother. she is torn open. 

“that,” says cinderella, “is for my mother.”

cinderella tips over candle sticks and sets things on fire. leaves them all with the taste of ashes in their lungs. turns. does not run. 

the prince follows. on his steps, as the clock strikes midnight, he finds a footprint in blood. he swears he will find whomever it belongs to if he has to try the shoes of every girl in the kingdom. 

but cinderella is no longer a girl. the last, a ring of cathair, has turned her into whiskers and a tail. she sits there, watching him in the light. she twines around his legs and purrs at him. he finds her white coat fascinating. 

she lives off of castle food for the rest of her life. sometimes, when she is bored, she bats all of the pictures straight in the front hall. 

nobody ever finds the girl. at the funeral of the stepmother, a white cat sits by the feet of the widowed man who was her father. he has nightmares of his first wife forever after. 

This is for the lost, downtrodden, and rejects, and anybody looking for a purpose.

I’ll fall asleep with my eyes open just to see if I could focus on something more than my loneliness.

We know what it’s like to be put down so “fuck you” to the world and stand your ground.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets fucked up. This will end in tears, I could never be enough for you.

Sometimes things will bend you, but trust me you’ll be fine. I’ve been moving mountains that I once had to climb, and life’s not out to get you despite the things you’ve been through.

Is it too late to say that I’m sorry for the things I do? I’m missing you like shit today.

I gave her my heart, she didn’t want it. She took it anyway and put a dark spell on it.

I’ll grow up someday, but for now I’m fine. I just wish that you were near me.

I miss your face, you’re in my head. There’s so many things that I should’ve said.

There will come a time when you will face your life, don’t let it twist and tear you up inside.

I hope this comes back to haunt you. Then maybe you would know just how it felt to be like me at my lowest.

I don’t have much to offer, but had you loved me, I’d have loved you back forever.

—  Favorite lyrics off of “Life’s Not Out To Get You” by Neck Deep.
crimes

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, nine, nine, nine…

By the time the Impala’s carved a path out of New York, the sun’s setting. Dean’s not really leaning on the accelerator. There are problems up ahead, yeah, and they’re big ones—but everything urgent in him sits in the sleeping hulk of his brother, silent and slumped on the other side of the bench. Everything else just pales in comparison.

Pennsylvania’s blurring into Ohio and Ezekiel hasn’t said a word, not since they got into the car. Sam just looks like he’s sleeping, curled up with his forehead against the window, and he’s never going to be small again but sometimes he fakes it pretty well. Dean keeps glancing over. Feels like he’s looking at Sam more than at the road, and hell. Who can blame him. He’d be touching Sam, too, if he thought he could get away with it, but he doesn’t want to wake Sammy up. Or—or Ezekiel, maybe. Whichever. He doesn’t have the radio on, or a tape, and he’s coasting along I-90 at an easy seventy-five, nothing but the sound of the engine and the highway wind. It’d be peaceful, if he weren’t sick to his stomach.

His face still hurts, a little, under the new whole skin. Ezekiel healed him, the tiniest glow of white-fire magic so that Sam wouldn’t suspect anything. Dean wasn’t hurt in the church, after all. Not like Sam was. Dean tightens his hands on the steering wheel. Wouldn’t do to have Sam suspect, Ezekiel had said, and Dean had gone along because—because, Christ, what the hell else can he do.

He’s going to have nightmares about that church. About Sam’s too-skinny face, the hollows under his shocked-open eyes. The blood slipping dark to the rotting sacred floorboards and Sam empty-handed, looking at Dean like—isn’t it obvious? Glowing on the inside while he peeled himself open, bloody wet and mutilated, gleaming white-gold lighting up the tears streaking down. And then—even after, after Dean kissed him careful, wrapped up his split palm and brought him in close. After the fall, after he dragged a half-comatose Crowley out and shoved him into the damn trunk. That drive, with Sam shuddering fly-stung in pain, moaning, collapsed over and into himself like just being alive hurt, and nothing Dean could do—that was a nightmare, all on its own. He tried holding onto Sam’s hand, just so Sammy could maybe ground himself, but Sam flinched, said stop, stop it hurts with his voice cracked right down the middle. Nothing for it but to put the pedal to the floorboard and drive with the sour taste of Sam’s looming death lingering at the back of his tongue, ignoring the horrific lightshow all around and hoping a hospital could provide some kind of miracle, if heaven couldn’t.

A semi passes by and he glances down. Accidentally let the speed drop to sixty. If Sam were awake he’d be getting no end of crap for it. He drags a hand down his face and tries to focus. The sun’s really down, now, and they’ll be coming up on Cleveland soon. They’re headed back west, back toward the bunker, but he’s not really driving with anywhere in mind. He tries to think when he slept last and it’s kind of a blur, but he doesn’t want to stop. Can’t imagine sleeping before Sam wakes up. Can’t chance that this, Sam up and living, could be a dream.

All he wants is Sam. He chances a look over and Sam’s still sleeping, his face healed-up and soft in the passing headlights, even if he still looks wrung-out. Nearly hurts, to look at him, and Dean refocuses on the road, dashed yellow line skimming past and disappearing under the dark hulk of the car. So familiar, and not enough to distract him. He just doesn’t—he doesn’t understand how it got so wrong. The year’s been rough, no doubt about it. He knows that some things got said that maybe shouldn’t’ve, and that’s on him. It was just… hard, when he got back. Hard to talk, hard even to touch without flinching, and there were all those nights of not sleeping, of turning to fighting because it was easier, and it turns out it was doing something to Sam.

He forgot. For all Sam surges ahead, does whatever he wants, for all that Dean’s been on his back for the kid for over fifteen years now, for what feels like his whole life, sometimes Sammy’s nothing more than his little brother. Picks up shit Dean never meant to say and holds it close, tucked under his big heart, long past when Dean’s forgotten whatever fight they had that prompted it. Stores up words and uses them like knives, to cut himself to ribbons. Like it’s ever been what Dean says that matters.

He remembers, though. He made Sam a promise, in the church, but Sam made him a promise, too. All the way back, months ago. That first trial. Sam promised that they’d make it to the end, together, and Dean—well, he bought in. Deep down inside, he believed Sam. Believed that no matter what kind of day it came to when they finally had to cash in their chips, they’d be doing it together. It’s been hard, these last months, no doubt about it. Hard on Sam, and hard on Dean, too, but—he remembers that night, in the girl’s room at that stupid ranch. No matter how freaked and worried he’d been, there was Sam’s big hand wrapped around the back of his neck, conviction lighting him up, his thumb dragging over Dean’s jaw, making Dean meet his eyes. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, he’d said, half a smile on his face, a dimple curving into his cheek. Dean can remember it like it was yesterday, and he’d believed it. If only he’d been able to convince Sam that his belief was true.

Sign says Cleveland’s coming up in forty miles and he shifts in his seat, dry-eyed and aching. He’s still nauseous over the choice he made. About the light that’s lurking, wrapped around his little brother’s soul. He’s going to have to lie to Sam, for who knows how long, and that guilt’s already sitting heavy in his chest. Well, it can take a number. They made each other promises. To be together. Hell came long ago and Dean feels like he’s about to drown in the high water, but that doesn’t matter. No matter what, he’s going to look after Sam. Going to do his damn job. Keep his promise. Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel’s going to turn out to be hellfire, but they’re still going to get there, side by side. One way or another.

(read on AO3)

anonymous asked:

Hi!! I've spent the last few hours just reading your work and omg I love the way you interpret the prompts! You're making the long hiatus so much better already and I can't wait to read more! I have a prompt request as well: friends with benefits to realizing they like each other (with some angst added in!) thank you!!! :)

First of all thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! Second of all, here it is! This is more playful than angsty but I still hope it’s okay!

AU: Jughead never went to Riverdale High and never became friends with Betty and the gang the way they were supposed to. Archie, Jughead, and Betty were close in middle school, but once they parted ways and Jughead followed in his father’s footsteps of becoming a Serpent, their relationship was never the same.

Betty brushed past Cheryl Blossom as she hurried her way down the freshly-mowed lawn of Riverdale High’s courtyard, nearly snagging her baby blue sweater on one of Cheryl’s particularly sharp insect brooches as their shoulders slammed into one another.

“B, where the hell have you been?” Veronica called to her from their usual picnic table at the end of the quad, her prized set of pearls shining elegantly in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

Ignoring the icy glare that Cheryl tossed in her direction, Betty maneuvered her way through the crowd of chatting classmates to slip her way onto the bench of the picnic table next to Kevin, just as Veronica turned to narrow her eyes at Betty. “I’ve had to listen to Cheryl’s incessant ramblings regarding the subpar quality of her brand new Louboutins for the past half hour and trust me, when I reach the point of boredom beyond repair talking about designer shoes, you know there’s a problem.”

“Sorry, something came up,” Betty mumbled, shrugging off her pale pink backpack and placing it on the wooden surface in front of her.

“There have been a lot of things ‘coming up’ lately,” Veronica pointed out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say our little, not-so-innocent Elizabeth Cooper has a man in her life she’s been hiding from us.”

“Yeah, right,” Betty scoffed, unzipping her bag and rummaging through its contents to find the salt and vinegar chips she didn’t eat at lunch. “You know how terrible I am at keeping secrets. Remember your surprise birthday party last year?”

“How could I forget? You asked me to come over to help you with an English paper,” Veronica recounted the event in question, shaking her head in shame at Betty’s failed attempt at such a classic form of surprise. “The day Betty Cooper asks Veronica Lodge for homework advice, you know there has to be something else going on.”

Betty’s lips curled into a slight smile, her expression distant as she reached into the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, repeating this process for several minutes without blinking or acknowledging that there were other people sitting at the table with her.

“Kind of like now,” Veronica mumbled, waving a perfectly manicured set of nails in front of her in an attempt to snap her out of the trance she had fallen into. “Look at her face, Kev. There’s something wrong with it.”

“You’re right, V,” Kevin concurred, leaning in close and tilting Betty’s chin towards him with a flick of his thumb. “There’s an actual smile on it. Hell must have frozen over.”

“Hey, I smile!” Betty defended herself, her too-tight ponytail nearly smacking Kevin in the face as she whirled around to look from Veronica, to Kevin, and back again.

“Not since Polly-” Kevin started to explain, but before he could get the words out, Veronica lunged across the table to place a hand over his mouth, nearly knocking various textbooks and papers onto the grass in the process.

“Shhh!” Veronica quieted him. “Kevin, we agreed that bringing up such events should be handled as if one were at Hogwarts and in the position of saying the name Voldemort - you just don’t do it!”

“Sorry,” Kevin shrank back onto his spot on the bench. “Let me rephrase. You’ve been a little down the past few months, but lately-”

“You’re happier than Kevin during a Brad Pitt movie marathon,” Veronica finished for him, her eyes dancing wildly as she leaned in to point a finger in Betty’s direction. “And that can only mean one thing.”

“Betty Cooper: number one in her class, editor of the Blue and Gold and all around girl next door, is getting a little ‘Fifty Shades of Freaky’ with one of Riverdale High’s finest young bachelors,” Kevin concluded, his arms crossing in front of his chest as if he were proud of himself for solving such a complicated riddle.

“I am not!” Betty protested. “You two have way too much time on your hands if you’re speculating why I’ve been smiling more lately.”

“What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t notice such things,” Kevin pointed out, his gaze suddenly leaving his friends to focus on the parking lot in front of them. “Kind of like how I’ve noticed Jughead Jones’ massive biceps lately, holy hot and bothered Rolling Stone-meets-Abercrombie you can actually see them bulging through that leather jacket.”

The boy in question stepped out of his midnight-black 1968 Plymouth Roadrunner, his dark hair falling effortlessly over his eyes as he moved to shut the driver’s side door.

“Joining the Southside Serpents has really sat well with his upper body muscles,” Veronica admired, her mouth hanging open slightly as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket like he was plucked straight out a scene from the Outsiders. “Too bad he doesn’t go here anymore, I would love to run my hands up and down those-”

“Veronica!” Betty’s eyes went wide as she turned to glare at her friend, whose mouth was practically watering as she took in Jughead leaning against the classic car and taking a drag from his cigarette like she was watching the most sensual thing she had ever laid eyes on. “Last time I checked you still have a boyfriend, or have you forgotten about our good pal Archie Andrews. You know, captain of the football team, lead singer of his very own rock band, Riverdale High honor student. Ring any bells?”

“Oh please, I’m allowed to window shop as long as I resist throwing anything into my basket,” Veronica muttered, picking up her copy of The Sun Also Rises and fanning herself with it, even though it was a perfectly cool fall afternoon that didn’t even come close to meriting such actions.

“That’s wrong on so many levels,” Betty mumbled, pushing her half-eaten bag of chips away from her and wiping her greasy fingers down the front of her sweater.

“What’s Jughead doing here anyway?” Kevin wondered. “I thought he and Archie stopped talking once he moved schools a few years ago.”

“He’s here to see me actually,” Betty admitted, turning in her spot on the bench to look at Jughead for the first time since he had pulled into the parking lot. “He was the best writer we had at the the junior newspaper in middle school and no one’s ever come close to filling his shoes, so he’s helping me out a few times a week after school at the Blue and Gold.”

“You sure he’s not helping you out with a few other things too?” Veronica wiggled her eyebrows at Betty suggestively, her lips creeping up into an amused smile as Betty narrowed her eyes at her.

“Just friends, Veronica,” Betty assured her. “Jughead isn’t Archie’s favorite person right now and after everything that’s happened with their fathers - I just - I wouldn’t do that to him, okay?”

“Whatever you say, B,” Veronica shrugged, still looking unconvinced as she reached underneath the table to retrieve her cheer bag. “Okay, I have to go find Cheryl before River Vixens practice so I can warn her that the choreography she’s been throwing at us is too 90′s cheer routine and not enough Beyonce video like we were going for.”

“Yeah, and I have to go witness the bloodbath of bitchy, yet impressively clever insults that is sure to occur as a result so we’ll see you later, Betty,” Kevin followed Veronica’s lead as she made her way away from the picnic table, the giddiness in his expression made even more evident by the enthused squeal escaping his lips as he bent down to pick up his backpack.

“Bye, guys,” Betty called out to them, shaking her head in amusement as she watched them round the corner to head back into the school.

Betty kept her gaze focused on the chemistry textbook resting open in front of her as she saw the movement coming from the parking lot out of the corner of her eye. Jughead had pushed off his car and was slowly making his way onto the sidewalk leading up to the courtyard. Her breath caught in her throat as he took a step closer. And another. And an-

“And then there was one,” Jughead announced, his leather-clad sleeve brushing the soft fabric of her sweater as he slid his way onto the picnic table next to her. “What’s it like without chatter mouth one and two attached to your hip?”

“I don’t know,” Betty sat up straight, turning slightly on the bench to quirk a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “What’s it like without your manhood to back up that newfound edginess that drives all the girls crazy? Wanna find out?”

“Betty Cooper,”Jughead beamed, one leg tucking underneath itself so that he could turn his body to face hers completely. “Throwing the banter back at me like we’re in a 1940′s black and white screwball comedy. I like it.”

“You’re early,” Betty noticed, her eyes focusing back on the periodic table displayed on the inside cover of the chemistry book.

“I ditched the last two periods,” Jughead shrugged nonchalantly, scooping up the abandoned bag of chips on the table and tossing back a handful into his mouth. “I figured that I’ve already learned as much as I needed to know about 17th Century England and the Taming of the Shrew to pass with at least a C in both history and English and still function in the real world like an adequately intelligent human being so why not skip out early and come see you?”

Jughead crumpled up the now-empty chip bag and tossed it behind him, missing the trashcan completely as he looked back to watch it roll onto the grass. Leaning in close, Jughead rubbed a hand on her knee resting underneath the table, his breath tickling the exposed skin of her neck and nearly causing a thrilled giggle to escape her lips.

“Jug,” Betty warned, reaching down to remove the hand slowly creeping its way up her thigh and turning to give him a leveled glare. “We agreed, remember?”

“You agreed,” Jughead corrected. “I said friends with benefits was a dated form of emotional torture that benefits neither party in any meaningful way.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Betty reminded him. “To not get attached in a way that lets you mean something to the other person?”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Jughead admitted, his eyes flicking to hers with a vulnerable state of truth-turned-worry when he realized that she might night have felt the same way. “At least on my part anyways.”

“You know that we can’t be anything more than what we are,” Betty explained. “At least not right now.”

“Because Archie blames me for my father’s involvement in his father’s shooting and he would love nothing more than to see me strung up on the mantle of his nice and cozy family-sized home,” Jughead recalled, his eyes rolling backwards dramatically sliding his leg back underneath the table and facing the empty set of picnic tables across the courtyard. “Yeah, you said that when we first started - whatever you want to call this. Doesn’t mean I understand it. And it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Juggie,” Betty whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and caress his cheek affectionately the way she had grown accustomed to since they had started their relationship nearly eight weeks before.

“You know how I feel about you, Betty,” Jughead told her, his eyes softening slightly as his head turned to smile weakly down at her lips. “And I think that if you were being completely honest with yourself, you know exactly how you feel about me too.”

Betty knew he was right. She knew that she felt more than just lust, coupled with the added bonus of orchestrating their clandestine meetings, for the boy from the Southside who was more than just his leather jacket and tough demeanor. But she couldn’t risk her friendship with either boy in her life by making things official. Not yet.

“This is the way things have to be right now,” Betty sighed. “At least until Mr. Andrews gets out the hospital and everything just - settles down. Please, Jughead. I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t want to lose him either.”

Betty held Jughead’s gaze, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as her teeth automatically reached out to bite down on the tender skin there, a habit she had formed around the time she had started seeing Jughead in a little-more-than-just-friends kind of way.

“God, why do you have to do that thing with your bottom lip,” Jughead mumbled, his eyes flicking down to her pink lips with a fleck of longing in his gaze. “You know that drives me insane.”

“I know,” Betty beamed, her eyebrow quirking flirtatiously up in his direction. “Why do you think I do it so often?”

“Okay, if we’re still playing by these ridiculous rules you’ve set in place then we better get to the Blue and Gold room because I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to kiss you,” Jughead breathed, his heart beating wildly as Betty’s leg brushed against his, making his palms sweat in the best way possible. “Now.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Betty leaned in close to Jughead as if she were going to meet her lips to his, but swung her legs out from underneath the picnic table at the last second and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Race you.”

“You’re on.” Jughead grabbed Betty’s bag off the table and sprinted after her, not even noticing that there had been a figure lurking in the shadows who had witnessed their intimate exchange with a devious smile plastered on her flaming red lips. Turning on her less-than-adequate Louboutin heel, Cheryl let her waist-length red hair swing playfully behind her as she sauntered her way to cheer practice, already scheming and plotting how she was going to use this juicy new development to her advantage.

Medicine | Changkyun Oneshot

Originally posted by kookihyunnie

Genre: College AU, fluff, romance.

Summary: “You opiate this hazy head of mine.”

Monsta X College AU Series: Wonho / Changkyun


     "There he goes again.“ You muttered to Shownu, your eyes following the boy running down the quad to the Medical School building in dark blue scrubs.

     "He’s got an big exam coming up, do you blame him?” Your best friend replied, shrugging and going back to his sandwich, becoming easily distracted by his hunger. Shownu had been working on his business administration project all day and he was finally able to have his first meal.

     Changkyun pushed the door open with his shoulder, his hands occupied with a stack of books, pens, and a lab coat gripped tightly in his palm. There were deep, tired bags under his eyes and his face was pale. It made you wonder how many hours of sleep he was getting these days or how many cups of coffee he had downed that morning to still be able to stay awake like that. You two didn’t know each other well; you only spoke to him when he and Shownu were hanging out, yet you worried about him greatly. Everyone knew Changkyun was a hard worker who poured his mind and soul into his studies and most people avoided him in fear of disturbing him, resulting in him not befriending anyone outside of his friend group.

     “No,” You tapped your pencil on your chin, lips between your teeth, “ Has he been eating? Sleeping?”

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I'm the anon who asked about pattern dances and step sequences at @soyouwanttowatchfs! Thanks for assisting! If I may, I'd like to ask a followup quetion. How do you know when the pattern ends and the step sequence begins? Thanks so much!

For that you kind of need to know what the pattern is, so basically each Compulsory Dance (Pattern) is predetermined but each season they are assigned, they may specify that the teams have to do the entire pattern dance or they will specify specifically which steps of the pattern they want performed and which specific steps will make up the key points.

Last season was Midnight Blues, the technical handbook specified steps #5-14:

The reason why they specified Step #5 must start on the opposite of the judges side is because in the entire Midnight Blues Patterns, step #5 occurs in front of the judges. 

Now they say this in the requirements for the 2016-17 Short Dance:

So the Partial Step Sequence must start right after the specified pattern, easy right? If you look at ice dance protocols you will see this pattern where 1MB is always followed by PSt.

Now we need to know where the pattern ends, which you can see here (taken from the ladies pattern):

I X’d out step 15 because it’s not important, You can see step 5 on the opposite side which is supposed to start across from the judges so the pattern ends in front of the judges. That way you can deduce when the Pattern Dance ends and when the Partial Step Sequence begins.

Pattern dances take a lot of watching to “get” (in my opinion) so we’re just going to look at the last step of the Midnight Blues (Steps #13-14):

Now take a look at Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir (special thank you to tumblr for stretching out my gif to make it so heinous-looking):

See how Step #14 ends right in front of the judges. Now the Pattern dances ends and they move onto the Partial Step Sequence, Tessa and Scott are then immediately in hold with each other for the PSt because if you lose contact at any point, you drop a level. Btw, Tess and Scott actually do a some choreography in hold before beginning the actual “skating” requirements of their Partial Step Sequence but the Partial Step Sequence is pretty convoluted and long to explain anyway so I’m gonna end this here.

Now you can go look at other teams this past season (2016-17) and see where the partial step sequence starts. Hope this was helpful anon.

Moving Out and Getting an Apartment, Part 2: Finding the Damn Apartment

Don’t even bother reading this post unless you’ve read the first one on preparing to move out. This is for those brave folks who faced your bank account and came out victorious. The rest of you need to step up your game or get the fuck out.

Step 1. Budget that Shit

Before you can do anything with an apartment, you need to figure out what you can afford. If you’re piss-poor, you’re going to be looking at shitty places. But at least you’ll know and can start with the shitty places instead of raising that bar too high and then having to rip out your heart when you can’t afford them. If you’re going to have a roommate, make sure to make a budget together, that way you know ahead of time if they’re a total deadbeat who will abandon you with most of the rent. Finding a good roommate is this whole other issue that I won’t even go into right now.

What you need to do is make a list of all your monthly costs, not even the stuff you’re going to start paying, but whatever you pay for right now. Gas, car insurance, health insurance (for the truly wealthy and privileged), phone bills, and whatever other shit you spend your money on. You might want to adjust your spending and stop buying so much crap. Remember, you need to pack and move that crap later. You’re not going to be so excited about your extensive Yu-Gi-Oh collection when that time comes. Now add in your estimated utilities. You can fucking google that on your own, because it’s going to be different for wherever you want to live. Absolutely do this if you plan on moving to a different town or state. If you plan on moving to Chicago, LA, or New York, I hope you’re a goddamned heiress otherwise you’re going to be living in a shelter three months from now.

I think this part is a little ridiculous, but this is how property managers are going to figure out whether or not you’re as rich as you say you are: divide your total monthly income by three. Hey, look at that, it’s my good friend Math again. Funny how he keeps showing up. Make sure the number of your expenses is less than the other 2/3rds, if it is, you can continue. If it’s not, get the fuck out of here.

Okay, now take another hundred or three out of that for play money or emergencies or whatever. This final low low number is what you can afford to spend on rent. If you see this number and think “I’m fucked,” you probably are and you should just stay in your parent’s basement for another couple of years.

Step 2. Stay Within the Budget

I’m so fucking annoyed that I have to put this step in here at all for all you shitheads who look at all these fancy-ass places and get turned down. You just figured out your MAXIMUM rent. Don’t go above that.

Go somewhere like apartments.com and before you do anything else, put your maximum into the maximum rent range. This shouldn’t be that hard. I’m sure even you can manage it.

Step 3. Know What You Want

Okay, once you know all your limitations, you can pretend you’re the boss and focus on what you want. But here’s the shitty part: you’re probably going to have to compromise. Yeah, it’s nice to have a washer/dryer set in the apartment (especially if it’s included already, but that’s a damn fantasy), but you might need to settle for a laundromat nearby. If you’re rooming with someone, ask yourself, is this selfish bitch going to hog the bathroom for two hours every morning when you need to get ready? If so, maybe try to find somewhere with two bathrooms. Also, be prepared to fight over the bigger bedroom. Go in prepared for battle (and maybe be willing to pay a tiny bit over half if you get the bigger one, unless you’re a complete asshole). If you absolutely need your pet with you, narrow your search to pet-friendly places BEFORE you get kicked out of somewhere because your little pomeranian barks too much and gives you away. If you own a great dane or anything larger than a fucking breadbox, I am so so sorry. This search is going to be hell for you.

Okay. Go ahead and put all of that shit into an apartment search engine. Apartments.com is probably the least sketchy, but hey, maybe you’re looking for a place to house your meth lab and sketchy works for you. I don’t ask questions.

Step 4. Do Some Fucking Research

You’re going to live in this place. You’re going to be so poor you’re going to spend most of your time in this apartment, so you better fucking love it. Look at all the floor plans once you find places in your price range. Actually think about what’s on it. Will your oven and fridge open into each other? Do you need a hall closet to split up your enormous hoarder-like shoe collection? How big are the bedrooms? Is your bathroom basically one of those horrific bathroom stalls in stores where you have to stand on the toilet just to close the door? You’re not going to put up with that kind of shit every goddamned day for the next year.

Look at some maps of the area. Is the nearest grocery store two towns away? Is it near your work, or are you going to have to get up an extra hour earlier to avoid rush hour? Do yourself a favor and make a custom google map. Yeah, google has everything. It’s going to save your life someday. Probably in the form of some sentient, unforgiving android, but for today, we’ll stick to maps. Put all your potential apartments on there and put your work on there and whatever other terrible places you visit daily. If you have a roommate, share the map so they can see how selfish you’ve been by making sure your commute is short and theirs is two hours.

You should also check out the maps on crimereports.com so you know if you’re living next door to a sex offender or something. This is good for the meth lab owners, too, because you don’t want to move in next to someone who got caught for that kind of shit. You don’t need to deal with that kind of competition.

If you’re really dedicated, and I hope to God you are, you can google the hell out of that shit. Find out everything you can about this apartment you’ve found. Wikisearch the town, read reviews on yelp, figure out which pizza places deliver past midnight. 

Step 5. Narrow Down Your Choices

Focus on your top 10. Then your top 5. Then your top 3. Don’t go any farther than that (and don’t get rid of the research for the other 7 just yet). Create crazy complicated rating systems. Make an excel sheet or start putting stuff on your wall and connecting them with strings. Go full-on serial killer. Dedicate yourself.

Step 6. Visit

Don’t try to move in somewhere you’ve never even fucking seen. If you do, you deserve all the secret horrors that await you. Call or email the managers and try to pick a day to visit when they’re available. You don’t want to show up somewhere and find out they just sold their last place or they’re closed or something.

When you do visit, take pictures. Take enough pictures that you could use them to potentially break into the place in the future. But don’t actually do that unless you’re prepared to go to jail for it. But do take pictures, even of things you don’t think are important. Take pictures of the ceiling so you know if there’s any overhead light to illuminate all your past mistakes at 3 AM when you’re sitting on the kitchen floor eating a tube of cookie dough. You should also make note of how big the room is so you know if you can even fit what little you own. The same goes for the hallways or stairs or whatever exists outside the apartment on the way from your car. Could you get your mattress through all that shit?

You should ask millions of questions, by the way. I don’t care if you hate talking to people, you need to get over that and talk to this person. Apartments.com and My First Apartment both have lists of questions to ask. Or just google it like you do everything else. 

Step 7. Get the Goddamn Apartment

When you figure out what you want and have gone through all the previous steps, you can work on getting the apartment. Call the leasing office and let them know what you want. When you actually show up, pretend you’re showing up for a fucking job interview. Let them know that you’re the best goddamn tenant they could hope for and you’re the picture of perfection, even though we both know you’re a total fuckup. Don’t let the landlord know that yet. If you ace this secret interview, the office will ask for a security deposit. Better have that money ready! This is one of those rare times in your life that someone might require a physical check. We have a post on that if you’re one of those ignorant fucks who can’t write a check. Then they’re going to run a credit check and you better know that shit ahead of time and be prepared to defend yourself if necessary. After a few days, the manager will give you a call with either great news or to laugh at you because you done fucked up. This is either the end of your search or the beginning of a new one. Either way, we’re done here.

This is by no means a complete guide, so if you have any specific questions, please let us know and I’ll do my best to answer them for you.

College!AU Hakyeon

find leo (here) & ravi (here)

  • major: fashion 
  • minor: psychology 
  • sports: swim team captain 
  • clubs: school newspaper fashion columnist, wellness center/student counselor 
  • the entire campus is absolutely in awe of him because he can somehow juggle a fashion major, a psychology minor, the captain of a sports team that got to nationals???, a weekly column in the newspaper?? plus be an available counselor on campus for other students dealing with problems like???? is he an angel from heaven with superhuman powers or-
  • and tbh hakyeon is literally just a sweet glowing sunbeam of positivity like he makes everyone feel welcomed and loved and he goes out of his way to be friends with everyone just so they know they can count on him
  • and his outfits are always on point like damn hakyeon where did you buy that
  • and he’s like ‘i made it’ and smiles and you’re just like ??? an angel ?? but also talented ?? some people just really do get it all
  • and he’s so proud of his major tbh like he doesn’t care if some asshole is like ‘a dude majoring in fashion?? like wtf bro’ hakyeon is just like ‘excuse yourself scum, some of the top designers in the world are men so you can step off or ill end your life with a single snap of my fingers.’ (and tbh he could do it. he could literally do it do not mess with him)
  • hakyeon sitting around during lunch sketching outfit ideas and listening to music he looks like a goddamn picture he’s so handsome and pictersque the whole campus is just s w oo n i ng 
  • and the reason he’s minor in psychology isn’t even because it’s a back up plan to if fashion doesn’t work out it’s because he genuinely is interested in the way peoples feelings work and he wants to know more in order to be a better counslor and to better understand others like how is someone so pure
  • does the cute thing where he holds pins in his mouth while sewing and the entire class is like,,,,,,he’s the only who makes working hard look so effortless,,,,,
  • leo says he’s happy hakyeon isn’t on the soccer team but tbh hakyeon dominates at the swimming competitions and leo regrets not asking him to do soccer because ok,,,,hakyeon is secretly strong 
  • hakyeon singing to himself whenever he’s doing stretches at the campus pool and an entire bleacher full of girls is just losing it because he’s so adorable
  • and tbh you meet hakyeon on a whim like completely on accident because you’re not even in the same department as him but for some reason you two are the only ones left late at night on campus and he barges into one of the private study rooms where you’re like crying over a midterm and he’s like yOU
  • and you’re like ????me????
  • and he’s like i nEED your HELP plEASE
  • and you’re kind of panicked because you’ve never spoken to hakyeon really like you know him who doesn’t but you’re like is something wrong??? is there a fire??? are you hurt???
  • and hakyeon is just shaking his head and he’s like no no no i need you to be my model please i can’t find anyone else on campus and this outfit has to be done by tomorrow
  • and you’re like oh i should hel- model? outfit?????? 
  • and hakyeon’s eyes are wide with panic and hope and you’re like me/??? model???? an outfit??? i??? um????
  • and hakyeon takes your hand in his and wow wtf his hand is so soft it probably smells like peaches because hakyeon is always glowing but that’s not the point he’s like i know it’s an odd request but it’s like 11pm the person who promised to help me got sick so i need you please help me this one time
  • and you’re like i,,,,,,would love to but my midterm is this week,,,,, and hakyeon is like it’s ok you can study while i take some measurments - please it won’t take long???
  • and you look into his eyes (big miss steak) and they’re sparkling with genuine worry and they’re so beautiful you can’t resist finally you’re like alright,,,ill try my best to help and hakyeon looks so delighted like you just told him you found the answer to world peace and he’s like ok!! get your things and come with me
  • so somehow you end up being measured by hakyeon and it’s a weird feeling to have him moving your body left and right and lifting your hands up and you feel a bit embarrassed under his gaze and he notices because he asks why you keep looking down and you admit you’re nervous and he smiles and it’s so warm and he just apologizes for making you do this but he’s also like
  • you’re a very charming up close and you’re like ???charming what does that mean and hakyeon holds your wrist in his hand a bit longer and he kind of looks to the side like it means that you’re very good at keeping me attracted and your brain kind of stops working because??? keeping hakyeon attracted……attracted how???
  • but before you even get to ask he’s back to measuring and murmuring to himself about the cloth and things like that and he’s like ok i think i have what i need and he’s like im just going to have to work through the night to get this to happen and you’re like through the night?? and he shrugs like it’s not big deal and thanks you again for being a huge help to him
  • but even as you get ready to leave you feel horrible leaving him there so you step out and it’s past midnight now but you know there are cafes near campus that are open so you buy some bottles of water and packaged snacks and return to the room where hakyeon is working and he’s like oh, did you leave something? and you’re like n-no but here you go, since you’re going to be here till morning take these and you give him the snacks and drinks and he just stares but then suddenly his arms are around your waist and he pulls you into this hug that’s so light it makes you feel like you’re walking on air and he whispers thank you against your hair
  • and you wish that that moment could last forever
  • but of course it doesn’t and you expect that after this hakyeon won’t really have a reason to approach you anymore but as you’re leaving the room after your midterms you see him leaning up against the wall and he gives you a small wave and everyone around you starts whispering like???? what?? and you’re confused up until he walks up to you and is like 
  • “hope you did well on your midterm, but now that it’s over let me take you out as a thank for all your help”
  • and you kind of freeze in shock because ok what did he just ask you on a date all you did was let him use you for some measurements you didn’t think that was any means to be taken out so you kind of mumble that it’s fine, he doesn’t need to thank you but hakyeon just shakes his head and goes
  • “you helped me with more than just the outfit, you did a lot more for me that day. let me pay you back, i don’t like owing someone a debt.”
  • and honestly again you find yourself falling victim to his eyes and aura and so you agree and hakyeon takes you to this little, cute place covered in plants and good smelling candles and for some reason you can see why hakyeon would choose a place like this and as you’re waiting for the food hakyeon clears his throat and tells you what exactly the reason is for him treating you like this
  • and he confesses that it’s been a long time since someone has showed genuine concern for him, he’s always shouldering the problems of others and trying to do his best to help them, but that day you were like a superhero to him. saving his outfit project and then even being kind enough to make sure he made it through the rough night.
  • you kind of don’t know what to say because you always assumed his life was perfect, that he would have someone always there for him, but the more you two talk the more you come to understand that hakyeon is not the happy always positive person he looks like. there are weakness even he has and what you thought was a simple gesture of consideration meant so much to him
  • and somehow over the course of lunch you and hakyeon open up a lot to each other and from then on, it’s impossible for you two to just separate
  • you start meeting up more on campus, you spend time watching hakyeon sew or draw and he helps you study in your other courses 
  • and it goes from just sitting together in empty classrooms talking like friends and you praising his artistic fashion skill and him quizzing you on your note cards to something more
  • one day you two see each other after his swimming practice and he comes out with slightly messy hair, telling you he wants to go back to his dorm to get some things before you guys go and do your usual little study together thing and you’re a little nervous because his dorm?? you’ve never been there before,,,,and you tell yourself don’t be nervous it’s going to take five minutes
  • but somehow you end up standing in the middle of his room and his gym bags on the floor and your own backpack is forgotten in some corner of the room and it’s so clean for a college students dorm, he even has flowers in a vase on his desk but before you know it your backed up against that desk and hakyeon’s warm skin is practically driving you crazy and he lets his hands settle on the side of your neck
  • and he whispers again about how you attract him, how something about you makes him never want to let you go
  • and the beautiful friendship you two have cultivated on the truths of your weaknesses turns into something more as hakyeon kisses you for the first time and from then on, you two melt into each other like nothing else matters
  • and hakyeon makes sure you know this is not a once in a lifetime thing, he keeps you close against his chest and he tells you straight forwardly that he’s never loved someone the way he loves you - he’s never wanted to fully protect someone, the way he wants to protect you
  • and you too, you look up at him and you tell him that you’re tired of seeing him being used left and right - you’re going to protect him too
  • and when the campus hears about you two dating everything goes wiLD 
  • and even his friends are like we need to see it to believe it and hakyeon jsut casually holds you around the waist as he walks you to class and kisses you on the forehead before you go
  • these two dudes named hongbin and ken come up to you in class and they’re like “Are you dating Hakyeon??” and you’re like um.,, yes,,, why? and ken’s like “Hongbin you owe me fifty bucks” and you’re like ?? (don’t worry, you get introduced to them later hakyeon’s like these are the guys i know from high school- they thought id never date anyone in my life, guess they were wrong)
  • the one named hyuk leans over and is like “i hope you know what you’re getting into, hakyeon is such a -” and this is the moment when he probably gets smacked upside the head with a notebook
  • and as you and hakyeon grow even closer now that you’re together you see that his caring side really has no limits like he constantly asks if you’re ok or need anything, probably carried around one of those little first aid kits if anything, and when there’s even so much as a slight wind he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to you
  • and hakyeon spends a lot of time drawing and sewing and you get into the habit of helping him out when you can and even picking up on sewing with him it’s cute you two working together to help him get some outfits done for school
  • and you’re always excited to see what hakyeon has drawn up and he’s always the most excited to show you 
  • and he also adores going shopping with you because he has such good taste ????? that anything he picks out is just perfect and you’re like hakyeon you’re the best boyfriend but also stylist and he’s like im a fashion major for a reason hehe
  • and when you can you go to all his swim meets to support him and you even make little banners for him which hakyeon hangs up in his room because he thinks they’re aDORable 
  • the two of you sitting cooly, sipping lattes, talking about the latest episodes of dramas you are both really into and everyone doing a double take because you’re the most fashionable couple on campus tbh
  • the fashion column hakyeon writes for also becomes a love advice column because now that he’s dating he thinks he has some merit to help others with their relationship but tbh most of it is him just ranting about how amazing it is dating you and how much he loves you it’s kind of cute but you’re also like hakyeon please the whole campus now knows that i give you shoulder massages and am good at making green tea which is not really what i want them to know
  • hakyeon sketching outfits one day but then he notices he’s stopped and started sketching a portrait of you instead 
  • hakyeon sometimes nagging at you for not keeping your dorm as clean as his and you’re like hakyEon and he’s like ‘we are going to ikea and getting you a new desk that one is falling apart’
  • he’s totally a fan of calling you cute nicknames in public and when you’re hanging out with like ravi or ken they do the gagging noises and  hakyeon doesn’t even care he’s so focused on you and you’re just like hey guys don’t be jealous of this beautiful thing hakyeon and i have~~~
  • on those rare occasions when you two are so tired neither of you cares enough to try you both just put on face masks while wearing sweatpants and order pizza and watch movies and you’re like if only the campus knew this side of you hakyeon and he’s just like they never will this is just between me and you who i trust the most in this world, now pass me a slice
  • falling asleep over your notes and hakyeon carrying you all the way back to your dorm as your roommate swoons over what a good boyfriend he is hehe
  • bonus: you and hakyeon take an elective drawing class together and you’re like hakyeon,,,,,,,,i can only draw stick figures and he’s like baby that’s fine as long as you make me the most handsome stick figure 
The War - Scott McCall

listen to the song here

You walked out into the motel parking lot, unsure as to why Stiles Allison and Lydia had all texted and called you repeatedly while you were working on getting Isaac out from under the damn bed.

y/n it’s important, it’s Scott - Lydia

YOU GOTTA COME DOWN TO THE PARKING LOT NOW - Stiles

y/n please you have to come idk if the others texted you but it’s serious

You shook your head, tucking Isaac into bed, which he was now on top of, and leaving the room.

But of course Scott didn’t text you, seeing he was your ex boyfriend and everything.  You rolled your eyes to yourself, thinking back to the day he told you that it was just ‘too dangerous to be in a relationship in this town’.  You made your way across the balcony and quickly down the steps, heading to the buses as your phone continued to buzz and ring in your pocket.

You’d loved Scott.  You’d done everything with him since you were six.  So him admitting his feelings for you (sorta on accident) last year had been one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.  You were dating when he was bit, and you were the first he told.  You were there for him, every step of the way, every midnight phone call when he was freaking out, every full moon, chaining him up when he begged you, and sitting with him.  You’d dated through the whole you, fighting off his alpha and a kanima together.  You thought it was real, your feelings for each other.  

But they clearly weren’t reciprocated.

Here stands a man

At the bottom of a hole he’s made

Still sweating from the rush

His body tense

His hands, they shake

Oh this, this is a man, boy

“Okay what the hell did you need me-” You neared where you saw Stiles and the girls, and your eyes widened as a sparkling light caught them.  “..for” You finished weakly and stared at the boy in front of you.  


Scott was drenched in gasoline.  As well as a six foot radius around him.  His hand held onto a flare tightly, it trembled with fear, or maybe the cold.

“It’s this place, it’s screwing up all the werewolves.  My guess is wolfsbane or something-”

“Scott?” You spoke softly, no longer caring to listen to Stiles’ ramblings.  “Scott… Scott what’re you doing?” You stepped forward, nearing the puddle of flammable liquid.  

“There’s no hope” He mumbled, and your lips quivered.

“There’s always hope” Allison said.

“Not for me” Scott replied instantly.  “Everytime I try to fight back it just gets worse” He said in a broken voice.  “People keep getting hurt, people keep getting killed”

“Scott-” Stiles moved forward, but you put a hand out, silently telling him to stay put.

“Scott this isn’t you” You murmured.  “Listen to me, someone’s in your head telling you to do this, it’s not you” You inched forward again, the toes of your shoes at the edge of the gasoline.

“What if it isn’t?” He asked you.  “What if it is just me? WHat if doing this is the best thing for everyone else?”

“Scott it’s not-”

“But it is” He cut you off.  “Everyone’s always coming here looking to hurt me, and they just hurt everyone else in the process.  Lydia’s going crazy because of me, Allison’s lost family because of me, I broke your heart y/n” Your breath hitched, and a pang struck in your chest at the words.  “Why try and save me? I’m better off dead”

“You’re not” You spoke boldly, and took a stride forward.  Into the puddle.  “You’re not better off dead.  You didn’t break my heart.  You’re not the reason Lydia’s going through this, and Allison’s grown stronger through what she’s gone through” You told him.  He stared at you, tears streaking his face as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“I don’t mean anything y/n” Scott cried.  “Before… before the bite I was nobody” You shook your head, taking a few more steps towards him.

“You’re not nobody Scott” You whispered.  “Alright? You’re somebody, and before all this supernatural shit, you were my best friend okay?” He didn’t say anything.  “Scott, I love you” You’re voice was even softer.  “So.. so if you’re gonna do this..” You hesitantly and shakily reached out a hand.  Letting out a deep breath as your fingers held tightly onto the flare.  “You’re gonna have to take me with you”

Here stands a man

With a bullet in his clenched right hand

Don’t push him son

For he’s got the power to crush this land

Oh hear, hear him cry, boy

You snatched it out of his hand and threw it off into the lot, crying out loud as relief spread over you.

“y-y/n?” Scott shook his head, dazed at what had happened in the past seven minutes.  “Are-are you okay? Are you hurt?” His hands wrapped around your face, looking you over for any sign of pain.

“I’m okay- I’m good” You mumbled.  In seconds you were pulled into a bone crushing hug.  You sobbed into his chest, and Scott’s hands tangled into your hair and rubbed your back.

You thought back to all the times you’d ever even touched.  Starting in the first grade, holding his hand when he’d told you about his parents fighting.  To earlier this year, when he’d kissed you softly before leaving your room, and ending your relationship.  You never thought that he’d ever touch you again.

Then again, you never thought he’d try to kill himself either.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry y/n I’m sorry for everything-” He mumbled into your hair.

“NO!” Before you could look to see what happened, Lydia and rushed forward and tackled you both to the ground and out of the puddle.  You barely caught a glimpse of the explosion ignited from the flare rolling into the gasoline.  You didn’t even have the time to yell out a yelp, Lydia and Scott both covering you underneath them as flames erupted into the air.

Don’t you ever leave me alone

My war is over

Be my shelter from the storm

My war is over

I am a sad boy

Stiles had taken Lydia back to her room, Allison nervously following after the two clinging on to each other’s arms.  You’d watched them walk away, whispering amongst themselves.

“In case you’re wondering,” Scott spoke, standing next to you.  “They are talking about me” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his wet head.

“Yeah I had no doubt about that” You said, giving the slightest of smiles.

“You… you uh wanna walk me to my room?” You let out one soft laugh, and nodded.  You followed next to him.  It was quiet for a bit, and you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket.  “Do… do you want to talk about it?” You bit your inner lip.  Your head screamed yes, but somewhere in there was doubt.  Small, but enough that you shook your head, and told him no, that you understood.  Though you had no clue really what was going on.

“No, no I’m good” You whispered back weakly.  Scott heard the skip in your heartbeat though.

“You’re sure?” You didn’t answer just licked your lips and stared at your feet as you went up the steps.  It stayed silent as you neared his door.  “Can I ask you an awkward favor?” You shrugged.

“Sure”

“I’m gonna shower off all this gasoline… would you stay in the room? Like… in case I lose my mind again” You nodded faintly.

“Sure” You said again.  He smiled for a short moment, unlocking the door and letting you in first.  You just sat on the end of a bed as he went into his backpack for sweatpants and a tee shirt.  You looked all around the room as Scott walked into the bathroom, closing the door on his way.  Eventually, after a few minutes of listening to the shower water run, you fell asleep there.

Here stands a man

At the bottom of a hole he’s made

Still sweating from the rush

His body tense

His hands they shake

Oh this, this is a man, boy

Scott stared at himself in the fogged mirror.  A towel around his waist, drops of water still splattered on his body, and damp hair falling onto his forehead.  He stared and stared, and the longer he did, the worse he felt.  Thoughts just kept on piling on, had he really tried to kill himself? Did he really want that? Or was that just the motel shit? Maybe it was both? Did you really tell him you loved him? Did you mean it? Or were you just saying that so he wouldn’t blow himself up?

After what felt like hours, but was only fifteen minutes, he’d left the bathroom, in plaid sweatpants and his lacrosse sweatshirt, and somewhat dryer hair.  He wandered into the room, immediately finding that you were passed out on one of the crappy beds.  Your head was at the end of it, arm hooked under it, following yourself.  Your legs curled up behind you.  In fact, your entire body was curled into yourself, probably to preserve the little warmth you had.  Despite himself, he smiled at how peaceful you looked.  There was even a gentle smile tugging onto the ends of your lips.  One that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

But he neared where you slept, and folded the blanket over you, tucking the covers so that you’d stay warm the rest of the night.  He contemplated lifting you up and turning you to lay the right way on the mattress, but he didn’t want to wake you up.  Mostly in fear of you becoming embarrassed or upset, and wanting to leave.  And he just knew that he didn’t want you to leave.

Scott climbed into his own bed, as silently as possible, which seemed to take a million years longer than normally intended.  Not that he would complain.  Once he’d finally gotten situated, on his side, under one blanket, he watched you for a few minutes.  (creepy? Um… maybe) but he just didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t know that he missed our smile so much.

Here stands a man

With a bullet in his clenched right hand

But don’t push him son

For he’s got the power to crash this land

Oh hear, hear him cry, boy

“You don’t get it? You don’t get it do you?” You stepped back staring at the strawberry blonde dead in the eyes as you spoke rigidly.

“Okay, okay y/n look at me, sweetheart just-”

“Don’t fucking sweetheart me” You spit before you could think.

“Okay, I’m sorry sw- y/n, I’m sorry it’s habit”

“I know, you always call me sweetheart you always do! It’s because you baby me! You’re the people thinking that I’m trying to kill myself!”

“Well then y/n what’re you doing with the gun?” Lydia’s hands gestured wildly to the pistol in your hands, and you laughed, a maniacal one that is.  “Just, just put it down” You laughed again, holding it under your chin.  You gave her a wide eyed, joking grin.  “Stop! y/n stop! Please! Sto-!”

But you’d already pushed your finger against the trigger.

Don’t you ever leave me alone

My war is over

Be my shelter from the storm

My war is over

I am a sad boy

You jolted awake, kicking and thrashing, bawling and sobbing.  You felt like a mess, tangled into the blankets.  You didn’t exactly know what you were doing, just that you needed to get up, out of this bed.

“y/n! y/n hey!” You looked through your tears, towards the sound.  But still wrapped and stuck in the blankets.  “y/n will you look at me?” Scott took the blanket off of you, balling it up and sliding it to the side.

“I- I shot- I had the gun again-” You went on mumbling about how you’d killed yourself in your nightmare, mumbles and cries that Scott heard but didn’t quite understand.  He nodded here and there, letting you go on in your small rant to get it all out of your system.  By the end you were banging your fists against the floor repeatedly.  Until your body was beginning to shut down, the adrenaline having already coursed out of your system.  You slouched against him slightly, unable to keep yourself sitting upright.  At least properly.

“Come on” Scott hummed, arms wrapping around you, and getting up on his knees, lifting you limply.  “Let’s get you back in bed”

“I don’t wanna sleep” You mumbled, forehead hitting against the front of his shoulder.  Scott sighed, rubbing your back gently, and he set you into his bed.  “Mm this is warmer”

“That’s why I’m letting you have it” He said, pulling up the blankets over your shoulders.  You gripped onto the edge, pulling it further until it just covered the end of your chin.  When you shut your eyes, he slumped over towards your bed.

“Scott?” You opened your eyes, barely, but enough.

“Hm?” he hummed as he sat down, yanking the covers up from where you’d crumpled them on the floor.

“You um- you don’t have- you don’t have to stay over there” Your voice failed you half way through your statement, growing into a quiet whisper.  But Scott’s enhanced senses made it clear wording to him.  He opened his own eyes and stared over at you.  It would be easy, slip out of bed, take the three steps across the space between your beds, and slide in next to you.

But that would make the both of you so much more vulnerable than you already were.  Him having attempted suicide, and you having had a nightmare about it.  You were as broken as he wanted you to be for the night (not that he did, but he didn’t want to make those cracks into craters).

When he’d opened his mouth to give you a soft and kind protest, you were already sleeping.  Your eyes had slipped shut, and he could hear your heartbeat had steadied.  Scott allowed himself a slight smile, and prayed that you wouldn’t be awoken in the night by terrifying images.

You woke up to your body bumping in an uncomfortable seat.  Your eyes blinked open, light from surrounding window blinding you momentarily.

“You awake?” Your line of sight turned into Scott McCall, and instantly your surroundings were thrown at you.

“I’m on the bus” You mumbled to yourself, looking all over the place.  You were in a seat, on the window side.  Scott next to you.  Behind you sat Allison and Isaac, both looking like they were about to pass out on each other.  In the seat across from you, was Stiles and Lydia, talking rapidly and staring intently at each other.  If you didn’t feel so exhausted, physically and emotionally, then maybe you would’ve made a comment about their obvious eye fucking.

“How perceptive of you” Scott chuckled.  You could’ve laughed, and you almost tried, but something clicked in your brain telling you to just slump further into the seat.  “Did you not sleep enough?” Scott asked, concern on his features.  You opened your mouth to speak again, but no words came to mind.  You leaned your body forward, top of your head smushed against the seat in front of you.  “y/n?” He put a hand on your back, and your immediate reaction was to shrink away from him.

But you didn’t.

You let his hand just rest there, taking in it’s warmth, and how it brought back memories of safety and sadly, home.  You sighed, a Scott both heard and felt the light vibration from your back to his palm.

“You can talk to me you know.  I’m probably not the ideal counselor, but I’ll listen” You nod, and sit up properly.  Scott slides his hand to rest on your shoulder.

“I’ve been having dreams where I kill myself” You whispered, voice painfully even.

“Since… what happened yesterday?” You shook your head.  “How long?” You it your lip, and Scott heard your heartbeat racing.  “It’s okay, you can tell me.  I know you’re not…” he didn’t say the word you were both thinking.  “That’s a very strong scent, and I don’t smell it on you” He told you.  “How long have you been having-”

“Since you broke up with me” You said, no longer in a flat tone.  “Since that night and nearly every night since” Scott’s mouth made an o, and you nodded, sucking in your bottom lip.  “Yeah.  Pretty depressing” You said.

“No it’s not”

“Dreams about killing myself? Seems depressing to me” You stated bluntly.  Scott let out a breath.

“Want me to tell you somethin depressing?” You shrugged, and nodded.  “You know how sometimes we’d meet at the overlook in the Preserve? Really late?” You nodded.  How could you forget? Everything happened there.  He kissed you first there, you had many dates there.  You lost your virginity to each other there.  It was your secret place to meet up and rant about shitty days, the supernatural.  “Well..” Scott sucked in a big breath, like he was uncertain if he still wanted to share.

“You don’t have to-”

“I still go there most nights, just sit there from like… eleven to one.  Then walk home”

“Why do you walk?”

“It’s pretty dumb”

“So are werewolves but here we are” You shrugged, lips showing the slightest ghost of a smile.

“Well I always think, maybe today she’ll come, maybe I’ll see her and we can just sit there like we usually did.  That maybe if I walk, then there’s more of a possibility of catching you on your way there… or home… I don’t know I told you it was dumb” By the time he finished, you were blushing furiously and you knew that he could hear your thundering heart, but you didn’t say anything.  Just sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You… you were hoping to see me?” He nodded his head, expression contorting to a nervous one.  “B-but-”

“y/n I still love you, that hasn’t changed… and it never will” Your eyes were clouded with tears in seconds, and he could hear your shallow breaths.  “D-did I say the wrong thing?” You shook your head, giving him a watery smile.

“No, no you said exactly the right thing” You whispered.  And you could see his victory smile beginning to form.  You grabbed onto the hand that he’d sat on your shoulder, and intertwined your fingers together.  Holding on tightly and resting them on your leg.  Then you leaned your head over, and set it against his shoulder.

My Rhythm and Blues (Part Two)

Wordcount: 4.181

Genre: Fluff / Slice of Life

Jackson x Reader
Description:  When Jackson asks you 20 dates to make you love him.

~~~

A/N: Here’s the new part. Thanks to all the people who liked or reblogged the previous chapter, you can’t even image how much it meant to me. A tiny note: I won’t describe all the twentieth dates, it will take me too long and you’ll get bored for sure. Consider them as flashfics of the most important moments of the relationship.

Hope you enjoy it ^^


P.S.:  Protect Jackson with all your heart, always  

Part One


(1)

“I’m full!” Jackson stretches his arms and almost hits the car’s roof.

Your car, actually.

He insisted to drive it because “I’m the man here! Tonight I’ll treat you like a princess!”, he practically shoved you on the passenger seat and started to drive like a crazy, toyed with the car stereo -that you turned off just to cut his babbles- (“I don’t like that song!” – “I do.” –“But it’s not even ours! I won’t accept anything that isn’t from Got7 tonight!”) and spent something like one hour arguing just to find somewhere to eat because apparently the entire world’s decided to hang out that Wednesday night at 10:00 pm.

And this isn’t even the worst part.

Keep reading

8
2

One Hundred Steps Cemetery

This mysterious cemetery is northwest of Brazil, Indiana, and can be hard to find as it isn’t marked on very many maps, and I get the feeling GPS would cut off in such a rural location. In addition to this cemetery’s cut-off location, One Hundred Steps comes with an urban legend. The story goes that if you walk up the length of the steps at midnight, counting the stairs as you go, then turn to the cemetery, a ghost of the cemetery’s first undertaker appears and shows you a vision of your own death. Then, you have to climb back down the stairs, counting the steps, and if the number isn’t the same then the vision will come true. If you get the same number, the vision was wrong and you’ll die another way. It’s also said that if you go to the top of the cemetery by any other method than the steps, a phantom hand will push you to the ground.