throwing the seats

3

Laurie Dann led an unassuming childhood, growing up in an affluent northern suburb of Chicago. She was recollected as being somewhat awkward and lacking in confidence. Maybe that’s why she completely altered her face with plastic surgery at quite a young age. She attended the University of Arizona for several years but never graduated. Whilst working as a cocktail waitress at Green Acres Country Club, she met Russell Dann, the son of a wealthy family. The duo were inseparable and settled down and got married in September of 1982. They moved into a large mansion - something that had always been a dream of Lauries.

Shortly thereafter, Russell began to notice some bizarre quirks about his new wife. For example, she would keep her makeup in the microwave, would throw money into the back seat of her car, and would put clothes away while they were still soaking wet. While the couple remained together for several years, Laurie’s quirks began to worsen and worsen. Eventually, she completely stopped leaving the house and refused to cook or clean up after herself. The relationship was doomed but it reached calamitous heights in September of 1986. Police received a phone call from Russell. Somebody had stabbed him with an ice-pick whilst he slept and he was certain it was Laurie. In fact, a store clerk would come forward to say Laurie had indeed purchased an ice-pick just days previously. The ice-pick missed his heart by just an inch. Considering Russel was asleep and didn’t see his attacker, the charges against Laurie were dropped. The couple divorced shortly afterwards. As the divorce was underway, Laurie’s ex-boyfriend from five years previously started to receive threatening phone calls from Laurie in which she claimed she was pregnant with his child. The harassment finally ended when his lawyer contacted her parents.

Laurie moved from the marital home and decided she wanted to become a babysitter but this quickly failed when she was accused of stealing from her client’s homes and slashing up their sofas, rugs, and curtains. Following this failed business idea, she moved into a dorm room on the northwest campus. This too fell apart when Laurie starred to hide rotten meat inside furniture as well as hiding rubbish in other student’s rooms. In January of 1988, she moved to a dorm in Madison, Wisconsin, where she became known as “elevator lady.” Students recalled her riding up and down in the elevator all day long. Once again, she started to leave rotten meat around the dorm and would often be seen stark naked in the communal areas. A month after moving in, a dorm room was set alight. Many believed Laurie had caused the fire intentionally but with no evidence, she was never charged.

By now, Laurie’s sanity was completely unravelled and nobody thought to get her more suitable professional help. After threatening a fellow student and slashing his clothing, Laurie baked buns and injected them with arsenic. She sent these laced treats to several frat houses and homes in the area before making her way to the home of a former babysitting client, asking if she could take their kids to the local fair. She gave the two children poisoned milk. Thankfully, they threw it out after saying it tasted strange. The arsenic in the laced treats she had sent out was so diluted that it caused no damage. From here, Laurie went to a local daycare and tried to set it on fire before returning to the former clients home which she then set on fire. They were lucky enough to escape out of a smashed window. By the time the family escaped, Laurie was en route to Hubbard Woods Elementary School. Armed with two handguns, Laurie started shooting indiscriminately as soon as she entered the building. She shot and killed 8-year-old Nicholas Corwin before critically wounding another five.

Laurie ripped off the bloody shorts she was wearing and tied a plastic bag around her waist. After fleeing the school, she crashed her car into a tree and then broke into the home of Ruth and Phillip Andrews. Laurie held the terrified family hostage for six hours, claiming she had shot and killed her rapist and was now on the run from the police. Phillip grabbed the gun from Laurie as his family escaped. During the scuffle, he was shot in the chest but managed to stagger into the garden. Alone in the Andrews home, Laurie shot herself dead.

anonymous asked:

Can you improve my outlook on life and write a very drunk draco clinging to Harry please?

(LOL, I love the way you phrased that and also, I love drunk Draco.)

Potter sat there, leaning back in the booth with his arm slung across the back of the faux-leather seat, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back and laughed at something the Weasel said. Granger shook her head with a smile of fond exasperation and leaned up to kiss her husband’s cheek. The weird blonde (”Loony Lovegood,” his booze-soaked brain provided) was waving her wand over the she-Weasel’s head in circles - ‘cause that’s normal behaviour for her.

Draco supposed that the thought of going over there ought to feel intimidating - he was completely outnumbered. But perhaps it was because of the eight or so shots of tequila Pansy had dared him into guzzling, or because he was randy as fuck.

Or because he’d just stood there hiding behind the cloak stand by the door and gazing at Potter like a lovesick halfwit far too long - he was no coward. Not anymore.

So he squared his shoulders and marched across the bar, tripping only twice, the second time because of that swaying oaf who’d nearly knocked him over.

Potter blinked up at him with his mouth slightly open.

“Potter.” Draco felt vaguely triumphant that his voice came out steady and calm - and Potter’s form was only very slightly blurry. “Potter,” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied cautiously, one eyebrow sliding up the scarred forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I can be here if I want to be here ‘cause I want to be here–” Draco was being very loud - his ears rang a little. Potter scrambled out of his seat, throwing a hasty glance at his friends before coming up to Draco and grabbing his elbow hard. Draco scowled around at the group - Weasley was scowling back, Granger looked thoughtful, she-Weasley looked completely bewildered and Loony, well Loony hadn’t noticed him yet; she was peering into she-Weasley’s ear as though she’d lost something in there.

Potter dragged him away a few paces. “What the hell?”

Draco tried to yank his arm out of his grip but nearly ended up overbalancing and falling onto his arse instead - Potter’s grip tightened.

“Let me go!” Draco slurred, stepping closer to Potter.

“What’re you doing here?” Potter repeated softly.

“I like you,” Draco proclaimed boldly. “I’ve always liked you. You never noticed. You have terrible eyesight.”

Potter pursed his lips, a faint line appearing between his thick brows. “I know I do,” he said, indicating to his smudged glasses.

“I like you,” Draco said once more, his voice decidedly breathy now - ugh. He stepped closer and, oh Merlin, rubbed their noses together. “So much,” he sighed, pressing their cheeks together for a swift second.

“Oh?” Potter didn’t seem put out at all. After staring steadily at him with his stupid green eyes twinkling merrily, Potter asked, “What d’you want, Draco?”

“To go home with you.” Oh shit, he was going to kill Pansy.

Potter simply continued to twinkle at him. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he said very seriously, finally releasing Draco’s elbow to slide both his arms around Draco’s waist and tug him closer.

Draco gasped as he was pressed flush against Potter. He could caught a whiff of spicy aftershave, Firewhiskey and mint; he pushed both hands into the mess on Potter’s head and leaned forward to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.” He pressed his face into the crook of Potter’s neck.

Potter’s arms tightened, the world closed in around him until he was being squeezed almost to the point of pain, and then he was being pulled through dense blackness.


Everything ached. His stomach ached, his back ached, his toenails ached - his eyelashes ached. His head felt like it had exploded and had been put back together before exploding again; even his hair hurt.

He was too close to the sun, his retinas were on fire. The sheets below him were softer than a cloud and smelt pleasantly flowery - his stomach twisted.

He kicked himself out of bed, fell over onto his hands and knees and then half-crawled, half-ran to the bathroom until he was heaving into the toilet. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make himself stand, piss, gargle with half a bottle of mouthwash and wash his face - which also hurt.

Clad only in his boxers he stumbled through the house, following the horrible sound quality of the Wireless and the utterly heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

“Coffee!” he croaked, throwing himself into a chair so heavily that he slipped off the polished wood and landed on his bum. Potter turned around, a spatula with a bright red handle in one hand, took one look at him and nearly fell down laughing.

“Good morning!” he virtually screamed. Draco rested his cheek on the chair and groaned hoarsely, feebly pressing his hands to his ears.

“Coffee,” he whimpered. “What happened to my head? Coffee,” he pleaded once more.

Grinning widely, Potter poured him a large mugful. Shaking his head slightly as he walked over to the table, he set the steaming mug on the table, reached down and nearly lifted Draco off his feet as he helped him onto the chair he’d aimed for. “Let me guess - tequila?”

“I hate Pansy.” Draco wrapped both hands around his jade green mug with the gold polka dots and drew the drink of the Gods closer to him. “I hate tequila. I hate drinking. I hate bars. I hate going out.”

“But you like me.” Potter’s completely deadpan expression made Draco scowl - aarrgh, his face hurt dammit.

“What?” He took a huge gulp and moaned a long, gurgling moan as the gorgeous bitterness spread over his tongue.

“You like me,” Potter said again, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed - he looked on the verge of another bout of laughter.

Draco stared blearily at him for several seconds before fuzzy memories started leaking into his aching brain. Then he let his head thump onto the table with another groan as Potter burst out laughing again.

“I hate everything!” Draco stated miserably. “Stop laughing at me!” His head throbbed when he raised his voice so he promptly shut up.

Potter, still laughing by the way, was loading up a plate with eggs, sausages and strips of bacon fried to crisp perfection - Draco’s stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut firmly as the food was set down before him.

Then Draco’s husband cupped his face with both hands, turned his face up and kissed him firmly. “I like you too,” Potter informed Draco.

“I will vomit on you,” Draco threatened.

Potter grinned, kissed his nose and went to get himself a plate of breakfast.


(Any good? ❤️)

anonymous asked:

describe the one direction fashion during their album eras.

Up All Night.

Pastel twinks. Giving off that vibe that makes you think they smell like an Oceanside Yankee Candle and freshly cut springtime grass. Would defo date you, open doors for you and smile at you with some sugary fucking tooth-rotting grin. Defo gonna have you back home 15 minutes before curfew with a wink at Mama as he leaves to drive the car that tells your mama he paid for the meal and could probably pay for her house too.

Take Me Home.


Sassy rich-boy fucks. Got that ‘lost my car keys so daddy brought me a new car’ vibe. Wears bowties to a casual as fuck house party. Other dudes think they’re twats but girls think they got dollar dollar hiding in their fancy fucking breast pockets. Lots of monochrome colours, wears white jeans and would probably wink at you as you notice the grass stains.

Midnight Memories.

Greasy gas station rent-boy chic. Excuse me m’aam, our car seems to have broke down can we borrow your cell so we can call a towing service“ Totally not passed them to throw you on the back seat and have the whole squad hit it in their cheap as fuck dodgy car whilst they wait for the tow truck tho. Smell like sweat, tequila and smoke. Bad-boy assholes that don’t believe in money as a concept which is an excuse for them being broke as fuq. Would get drunk with you and complain about captalism and the bourgeoisie. 

Four.

Slayin in all black cos it’s everyone elses funeral. Take me To Church plays in the background of them wherever they go. Has the ‘Daddy-doesn’t-talk-about-his-business-with-you’ vibe and you cool with that. Smells like overpowering Gucci cologne on a soft autumn breeze. Hair constantly in a state of ‘i woke up like this but it took an hour to get right’. Most likely actually has money falling out their pockets. Shoes pointier than cheekbones.

Made In The AM.

We’re not like regular dads we’re cool dads. Relaxed and chill vibe, just guys being dudes. The kind of guys who know how to bleed a radiator but know the best guy to get cocaine from at short notice. Would probably reference memes in conversation but only the relevant ones. If you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, they are wife material.

The Runaway Ballerina

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader, some Cas 

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Reader has been hexed by witch that turned her into a toddler, and a jealous Dean becomes very annoyed. 

A/N: I hit 100 followers, so in honor of that I’ll be posting some imagines so if you guys have any request send them down and I’ll try my best.


Part 2

Originally posted by helvonasche


Sam and Dean sit in baby staring at their once 25 year old sister who was now 4 years old in a ballerina outfit because that’s what she picked out at the store when they needed to buy her clothes. The previous hunt they were on Y/N got hit by some weird powder by a witch and Dean woke up the following morning to a tiny hand on his face.

“Why do you guys keeping wooking at me weird?” She ask looking between them. “You’re just so tiny.” Sam smiles. “She’s so cute!” Sam adds looking at Dean. “Yeah, I remember.” He mumbles as they get out the car to go food shopping for the bunker.

“Come on Y/N.” Sam chimes as he opens the back door for her. He holds her hand as they cross the street to the store. She lets go and runs to the shopping carts to grab one. They stand there watching her struggle to get one cart out because they were stuck together. (Don’t you just hate that) “I got it.” Sam chuckles getting it. As they walk in store Y/N skips ahead next to Dean to hold his hand but he keeps moving his hand so she can’t grab it.

“I don’t wanna hold your hand, thanks. I don’t wanna hold your hand.” He argues. She frowns and grabs a hold of his hand and grips it tight. “Ow, ow, let go of my hand.” He growls. “That hurts.” He glares down at her. She whimpers and peeks over to Sam who looks down at her. “What’s wrong bug?”

“Dean won’t hold my hand.” Y/N pouts. Sam gives Dean his signature bitch face and Dean grunts and grabs her hand. “She always did this before.” He mumbles but Sam just chuckles shaking his head. “Why did you choose a costume?” Dean ask looking at her ballerina outfit. “It’s not a costume it’s my protective gear.”

“How’s a ballerina costume suppose to protect you?”

“Are you crazy who wants to hurt a ballewina?” She protest. “Other ballerinas.” Dean shrugs. Once Dean had enough he throws Y/N in the seat of the cart and she rambles to Sam who too eventually has enough of her talk of Princes and fairies and he gives her his iPod. She bops her head and swings her hanging legs accidentally kicking Sam once in awhile listening to music as they get to the register. “Can I has some lime jerky?” She ask pointing down below to the candy and jerky. Sam is about to protest remembering her eating habit but Dean holds his hand up to stop him. “Your remember how she was when she didn’t get things. She whined and whined.” Sam grabs the jerky and puts it down with the of stuff and Y/N smiles. The ride to the bunker is an half hour away and Y/N becomes very impatient.

“Are we there yet?” She grunts tugging on her seatbelt. “We get there when we get there Y/N.” Dean answers annoyed. “Why do you have to be such a meany?” She yells. Sam stops Dean before he can even talk back. “Hey princess let’s play a game.” Sam says turning around in his seat. “Okay!”

“Let’s play the license plate game.”

“Yay okay!” Y/N props herself on the seat and looks out the window. There isn’t much cars on the road and she eventually falls asleep from boredom. When they arrive Sam carries Y/N down the stairs seeing Cas sitting in the war room. “Who’s the child?” He questions noticing a sleeping Y/N in Sam’s arms.

“Cas it’s Y/N.” He chuckles. “Y/N isn’t two feet tall.”

“She got hit by some mumbo jumbo powder and now she’s four years old so we need to find a way to reverse it.” Dean explains as they walk to the kitchen. “Cas would you mind taking her to her room?” Sam ask. Cas hesitates at first and nods. Sam passes her gently so she doesn’t wake up. She stirs in Cas’s arms for a moment and becomes still again. He takes her to her room settling her down on the bed. He admires her small body seeing fully that it clearly was Y/N. He remembers Y/N showing him some pictures of her and boys when they were younger.

An hour goes passed and the boys sit in the library reading some books. “Do children usually nap for this long?” Cas questions. “You have a point totally forgot. She’s too quiet now that I realize.” Sam intervenes. “Oh no.” Dean mumbles getting up. “What? What is it?” Cas questions following them to the kitchen.

“Whenever Y/N was quiet it meant that she’s was either hiding something or she’s going through the pantry for cand—”

Sure enough when they reach the kitchen they see a stash of candy wrappers opened along with other snacks, but that wasn’t the problem. This was Dean’s secret stash. “Son of bitch.” He stomps his boot. “If she throws up, I’m blaming you!”  Dean scolds at Sam with a pointed finger. They go into the hallways to look for her. “Y/N!” Dean screams. He goes to her room not seeing her there and is about to leave till he hears shuffling from the closet. He slowly walks up to the closet grabbing the door knobs and swings them open spotting the little ballerina with a chocolate stained mouth.

“THERE YOU ARE!” She screams crawling through Deans legs and makes a run for it in the hallway.

“Sammy get her!” He screams. Sam sees a small body dart across the hallway. He runs after her but loses her once he turns the corner. Five minutes go by and Dean doesn’t find her. “I’m tried of playing games Y/N come out now or it’s time out for you!” After three minutes of searching he meets in the war room with Sam. “She’s in so much trouble!” Dean grunts. “Dean, why are you so mad at her?”


“She ate my stuff!”

“No, not that. I mean ever since she turned you’ve been a meany like she said what’s up with that?” Dean doesn’t answer and looks away. Sam stands there waiting for the answer. Dean mumbles something inaudible he can’t hear. “What?”

“I said she likes you better then me.” He confesses. “Dean, what are you talking about?” He sighs before he answers.

“Every since Y/N was little she always liked you best. She was stuck to you like glue.” Sam stands there in shock. “Dean, she loves you a lot you know?” He raises an eyebrow hearing this. “Anytime you and dad were gone Y/N never shut about you. Asking me all these questions about cars and bugging me when you were gonna be back and how excited she was to learn  how to gank monsters from her big brother. Besides you too spend a bunch of time together now. Why is this affecting you?”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, I was kinda jealous because I thought she liked you more. And to be honest I’m a little jealous. You guys have a closer bond than I have with her now.” Sam admits. Suddenly Cas emerges into the war room carrying a crying Y/N. “What happened?” Sam ask. “Well when I was chasing her down she fell and hurt her knee.” He lifts her leg up showing the ripped pink unitard with a cut that is now bleeding just a little and the torn tutu. He goes to hand her to Sam’s out stretched arms but she whimpers rejecting him.


“I want Dean.” She whimpers crying. Dean lifts his head up hearing this and gets a good look at his baby sister. Her arms reached out for him leaning away from Cas. Her eyes puffy and red from crying. Dean realizes that he’s been so stupid that he didn’t need to be jealous, because him and Y/N get along perfect now when she’s not a toddler. She whimpers putting her arms down thinking her big brother yet again is rejecting her today until he reaches out for her and she quickly wraps her arms around his neck. “You okay?” He ask softly wiping her tear stained face. “No.” Y/N croaks shaking her head and he takes her to his room. He sets her down on his bed and helps her in one of his t-shirts after cleaning her face.


“I’m sorry I ate your candy.” She apologies in her small voice. “No, I’m sorry for being a meany today, I was just jealous.”

“Why?” She ask with a tilt of her head.

“It’s a long story. But let’s get a bandaid on this shall we?” He gets the first aid kit and cleans her scratch up. “Tank you.” She says once he’s finished. “Dean.” She calls out to him when he puts the stuff away. “Yeah?”

“Can we watch some cowboy movies?” He smiles at this and nods his head. “Sure thing sweetheart.” He sets the movie in his room while Cas helps her pop the popcorn. Half way through the movie Y/N starts falling asleep. He looks down under his arm seeing Y/N falling asleep with a piece of popcorn hanging of her bottom lip. “Getting sleepy there?” He lays down with her pulling the blanket up. “Frectles.” She mumbles. “What?” She puts one tiny finger in his face and says it again. “Frectles.” He frowns then gasp realizing what she meant. “You mean freckles.” He chuckles. “Yeah you has those.”

A/N: Would you guys like a Part 2?

the evolution of adam and ronan (bold is faves)
  • Last week, he and Adam had taken turns dragging each other on a moving dolly behind the BMW, and they both still had the marks to show it
  • Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didnt know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves. 
  • “Do you think it makes me look tougher?” Ronan said, “It makes you look like a loser.”
  • “You’re a Neanderthal.” “Sometimes you sound just like Gansey,” Ronan said. “Sometimes you don’t.” Noah laughed his breathy, nearly soundless laugh. Ronan spit on the ground beside the BMW. “I didn’t realize that ‘midget’ was the Adam Parrish type.” he said. 
  • Two years earlier, Adam had made his decision to come to Aglionby, and, in his head, it was sort of because of Ronan…even the way the other boy had moved, Adam recalled, had struck him: confident and careless, shoulders rolled back, chin tilted, an emperor’s son…He’d never wanted to be someone else so badly. In his head, that boy was Ronan.
  • “I’m always straight.” Adam replied, “Oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

Keep reading

Pit-A-Pat (Part 1)

Originally posted by mvssmedia

fuckboy!jungkook // high school au

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Smuttish, Romance

Word Count: 3.1K

Description: It all started when Jeon Jungkook moved into the house next door during the first year of high school. His popularity was given as his looks are extraordinary, and not to mention his outstanding grades. Everyone thinks of Jungkook as the perfect person with his good looks, perfect grades, and rich parents. However, Y/N thinks apart from that.

A/N: This wasn’t supposed to be a series but oops. 

MASTERLIST


Keep reading

Craving

Originally posted by jungkookandyugyeomwhores

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: slight angst, smut, dom!yoongi
Warnings: sex, demeaning names, humiliation, degradation, unprotected sex, ass play, cum play


You did not know how to deal with that predicament. One part of you deeply wished you could figure it out while another part wanted to give up. Considering you had done everything you could not get jealous again, you sighed, your fingernails tapping against the kitchen counter as you ran one nervous hand through your locks.

“Where the fuck is my stuff?”

Grumbled Yoongi sleepily as an annoyed sigh crossed his lips, him fidgeting in the bags from your flat in the hope to find one of his sweatpants. You shook your head with a frown as you turned to him, irritation rising within you, raising the voice. After a silence, you realized how angered you sounded since you felt him spending more time composing music with Hoseok than you.

“I don’t know, Yoongi. Maybe you left it at Hoseok’s flat.”

Keep reading

Mercy

Y’all aren’t ready for this 2k of angst…

—————————————————————————

“And the award for album of the year goes to…”

“Ed Sheeran!” I stand up along with the rest of the people in the crowded facility. Clapping my hands slowly, I rest my gaze on my boyfriend sitting next to me. He looks disappointed and I can’t help but feel bad for him knowing how much he wanted the award. Shawn loved Ed - yes - but he had put countless hours into the album in the hopes of living up to a moment that would no longer exist.

“Hey” I place my hand on his shoulder while he stares at his shoes outstretched in front of him, “I’m proud of you” I tell him as he brushes my hand off and proceeds to walk towards the restroom.

Shawn continued to ignore me for the majority of the night. And although I understood that he was disappointed, I didn’t have anything to do with the results of the award and could not understand why he was ignoring the person who had supported him the most. I would occasionally sneak glances in his direction, my eyes following his movements carefully throughout the room. I would catch him talking to some music representatives with a smile plastered across his face, and it would soon turn to a frown once he made eye contact with me.

I was getting fed up with his actions and made the bold decision to approach him myself. Shawn was standing in front of an older man and a girl who looked much younger than him while speaking and gesturing with his hands. I snuck up behind him and rested a hand on his upper back.

He quickly looked in my direction, his smile quickly fading.

“Who is this beautiful young lady, Shawn?” the older man asks me with a grin on his face. I take a step forward and shake his hand.

“This is y/n. She’s a friend.” he simply states with a monotonous voice while leaning down to my height to quickly whisper in my ear.

“Don’t mess this up for me too” He bitterly says, backing away and pushing my hip gently while motioning me to leave.

———————————————-

Eventually it came time to leave the awards show and I greeted some of my friends, thanking them for accompanying me while saying goodbyes to them. I had agreed to meet Shawn at his car so he could drive us home earlier that night and I quickly grabbed my coat to layer on top of my dress that only reached mid-thigh. The air had been growing cold recently and I wasn’t taking any chances when it came to being cold.

I quickly walked out of the enormous building and walked to the parking garage, my heels rubbing against my blisters and my arms crossing over my chest in an attempt to keep some of the heat in my body. The parking garage is only half full, taking into account that most of the guests had come with drivers rather than driving themselves. I walk through the garage and make a mental note of the sections before I spot him.

Shawn is standing, scrolling through his phone in one hand and leaning against the driver’s door of the car. I can tell that he’s tired and annoyed just be the way that he stands and also by the way he tiredly rubs his face and sighs occasionally.

“Hey, I was looking for you” I quietly say, but I know he hears me. I decide not to create conflict by mentioning the introduction as a “friend” earlier in the night and the complete negligence on his part throughout the night.

“Get in” He bluntly states as he gets in the car and quickly turns it on. I hop in the passenger’s seat and take off my coat, throwing it into the back seat of the large jeep.

He pulls out of the garage and pays for the parking. There’s quite a bit of traffic before we can make it on the highway and the tension in the car lingers through the air.

“It was a good show” I tell Shawn, who sits in his driver’s seat unphased while his head is propped up against his elbow. The car rarely scoots forward due to the cramped cars at this time of night.

“Yeah.” He simply states as he keeps looking forward.

“Justine was there” I tell him and this time he doesn’t even bother to reply.

“I spent the most of my night with her. You know, since you barely acknowledged me” My words finally seem to catch his attention as his turns his head to look at me.

“Is there a problem here?” Shawn asks as he rubs at his eyes.

“No, not really. My boyfriend just brought me to an event that I didn’t even want to go to and told me to fuck off the entire time we were there. Not a big deal.” I tell him with an annoyed glare.

“Not everything is about you, y/n. Calm down.” He clutches the wheel harder and I can see the veins that outline his forearms.

“I know that. But when you basically force me to go to an event and then refuse to say more than 3 words to me the entire night, I think I have the right to complain.” I point out. “And you blamed me for not winning the album award. What’s up with that?” I ask him.

“That album wasn’t as good as it should’ve been. I knew it, Andrew knew it, and the whole team knows it. I was distracted, and since it’s really the only album i’ve written since I met you…”

He trails off. I can’t tell whether he regrets it or not considering he isn’t apologizing yet.

My voice cracks slightly as I try to process what he’s implying.

“Are you - are you implying that i’m the reason why your album didn’t win the award?” I ask him and he stays silent. I sit in outrage due to the ridiculousness of the statement he’s just thrown at me.

“That has got to be the most ridiculous bullshit i’ve ever heard in my entire life” I say, startling him.

“Excuse me?” He looks taken aback.

He turns the car out of the traffic mess and we’re finally on a more empty highway with a smaller number of cars. He occasionally looks over at me, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something before quickly closing it.

“I have absolutely nothing to do with you not winning that award! Shawn, I have stuck by you through every step of your career. When you couldn’t think of song lyrics, I was the one sitting there and talking to you until you finally figured them out. I attend every concert I possibly can and give you as much support as I possibly can. This album went platinum, for god sakes!”

I throw my hands up in an angry fit and his pale complexion develops a red shade.

“Are you kidding me? You’re a distraction! You’re always bothering me when i’m writing songs, giving shitty input I didn’t ask for” I feel a flash of hurt hit my chest but I assure myself that he’s just mad and we’re caught up in a moment.

“You bring me useless things to the studio as an excuse to be with me more. Newsflash y/n, if I need food while i’m writing, I can just walk to the Panera next door! You always find excuses to be around me and it’s affecting my music. Maybe you should just stop being so fucking clingy!” His voice booms in the car and there’s a sudden pause and a moment of quiet.

The car is going at a fast pace given that there are almost no other cars on the highway and I now notice that small flakes of ice are falling from the dark sky. It’s snowing, something I would’ve thought of as beautiful in any other situation, but the intensity of the argument seems to distract from the beautiful snow.

“Maybe your album just wasn’t all that great” I coldly reply. I know it’ll hurt him, but he hurt me first. And while I could choose to be the bigger person, in this situation, I choose to fire back instead.

I’m taken aback slightly when the car comes to a slow halt. I freeze, panic rushing through me at the possibility of the car malfunctioning but it is then I realize that Shawn has pulled over to the side of the road.

“What are yo-”

“Get out” He quietly replies, not an ounce of emotion laced in his voice.

“Shawn I-”

“Get out, y/n. I don’t want to talk to you right now” He says, louder this time.

“Shawn, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” I desperately call out. I hear the drivers door open and I realize he’s stepping out. For a split second, I think he is walking away from the car and leaving me. But just as I’m about to open my door and run after him, I realize that he is walking to my side of the car.

He opens the door to the passenger’s seat of the car and I immediately feel the cold wind on my forearms. I’m wearing a spaghetti strap dress than only reaches - at lowest - to my mid-thigh. It barely covers my body and without my coat I feel like i’m freezing.

Shawn repeats himself another time, “get out of my car”.

“Shawn, please” I shake my head and warm tears are quickly filling my eyes.

“It’s so cold out there and it’s so late. Shawn, I don’t know where we are, please.” I plead. For a split second I think I see a hint of remorse in his eyes but he proves me wrong as he harshly grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the car. I fall onto the frozen pavement, my heels falling off of my feet with my tears spilling out of my eyes. He stares at me one last time before angrily getting back into his jeep and storming off.

And while I sit barefoot on the freezing pavement, staring as his car becomes nothing more than a silhouette in the distance, all I seem to do is beg him for mercy.

His || Jungkook || 0.21

pairing: jungkook x reader

type: angst, fluff, smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13 | 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18 | 0.19 | 0.20 | 0.21 |

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Delightfully Determined

Jax x Reader where the reader is Chibs’ niece, and Jax is determined to win her over.

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

After going through the self serve checkout, you throw your pile of junk food in your carrier bag, wishing you could teleport home instead of having to drive.

You halt in your tracks as you notice a figure standing against your car, tilting up your head at the sky in annoyance. “Really? You couldn’t give me one day to soak in my own self pity?“

Sighing, you drag yourself to your car unlocking it and moving to the back seat, throwing your things inside, ignoring the grinning biker leaning against your drivers door.

“You know, it really hurts my ego when you ignore me like this.” Jax teases, his hand going to his heart in fake offence. You stare at him expressionless, waiting for him to move out of the way, even though you know he’s not going to.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, your ego is big enough to take a few hits every now and again.” you sass, crossing your arms across your chest, your words having zero effect on the male in front of you, that same undeniably beautiful smile on his face. “Can you move, please? I’ve got a date with a pint of ice cream and Christian Grey.”

He raises his eyebrow in question, his smile shifting into a smirk as he looks at you, the blinding sunlight making him squint slightly. He pulls open his kutte, his toned physique visible through his shirt. “Babe, why settle for your vibrator when I’m standing right here?”

“You’re a pig.” You feel your glare softening as he beams at you, trying to resist the curl in your lips. “The answers still no, Jackson. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

You yank the handle of your door, the force catching Jax off guard as he gets moved from his post, a smug smile on your face. Instead of getting inside and driving away from the persistent man, you lean against the open door, pulling your sunglasses down from your head and over your eyes.

“Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for.” he asks, you basking in his pleading. You’d only moved to Charming a couple months ago - wanting to be closer to your Uncle Chibs - and lucky for you, you’d caught the eye of the blonde biker. He’d made it his mission to get you to go out with him, him asking the same question everytime he spoke to you.

“There are a thousand and one girls desperate to shag the SAMCRO president,” he shrugs his shoulders as you talk, a self assured expression on his face, knowing your statment rings true. “why are you wasting your time on me?”

“If I wanted meaningless sex, I’d go to Diosa.” You blush as he moves a stray tendril behind your ear, his fingertips grabbing your chin gently as he keeps your gaze on his. “There’s this energy between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

A shaky breath leaves you, your body frozen as he moves his face closer to yours his hand cupping your cheek as his breath tickles your skin. “Go out with me.”

Your eyes close involuntarily as he whispers seductively in your ear, his teeth nibbling flirty on your lobe, a shudder running down your spine. He smirks as he presses his lips against your jaw, your fingers grabbing his collar as your core tingles, a feeling of euphoria slipping over you as his warm, soft lips lay kisses upon your skin.

“Jax…” you whisper, subconsciously tilting your head to the side and allowing him more access, his trail continuing down your neck as you melt in the middle of the parking lot, the thought of people watching not even entering your mind.

A loud honk rips you from your pleasure, you jumping backwards quickly as you shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You point your finger at him warningly, “Don’t pull that shit again.”

He holds his arms up defensively, his tongue running over his lower lip, the gesture so simple yet fuck all you want is feel that pink tongue in places that would make the purest nun’s quiver.

“Not my fault you liked it, darlin’.” he winks, his self assertiveness moving up another level. “So, tomorrow night?”

You smile falsely, pushing up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder to convince me, darlin’.”

You swiftly slip behind the wheel, winking at the determined male before slamming your door shut, speeding away before he can stop you.

Just as you pull off the car park, your phone rings, you pressing the answer button on your hands free and speaking a loud. “Hello?”

“You belong to me, baby. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

A/N- I found this surprisingly easy to write, which is ace! I’ve got a Dean imagine pretty much finished and another Jax one but I’m struggling to finish them. I hope you guys enjoyed this, because I loved writing it :) feel free to request! Thanks for the continued support ❤

Your OTP + Kids
  • Who in your OTP carries them from the couch/car to the bed?
  • And who soothes the kids after a nightmare?
  • Who wants to throw out the car seat because the stupid thing won’t strap in?
  • Who cries on the first day of school?  
  • Gets the kids into the local sports team?
  • And who’s the parent that gets way too aggressive at these games?
  • Who in your OTP lets the kids stay up and watch movies and who sends them to bed?
  • Who sneaks candy to the kids before school, whilst the other pretends not to notice?
  • Who is the parent that yells at the kid for being called to the principal’s office and who is the parent who yells at the principal?
  • Who teaches their son to tie a tie and who
  • Explains periods to their daughter?
  • Who cries at graduation?
  • Who reads the book in silly voices?
  • Who’s the one against sweets before dinner and who lets it slide?
  • Who gets rid of the monster in the closet and under the bed?
  • Which parent sneaks veggies into the kids’ dinner and who doesn’t like veggies themselves?
  • Who in your OTP does the “hurt my baby and I’ll kill you” speech when their kid brings someone over?
  • Who goes on all the rides with the kids because their partner gets queasy on rides?

Headcanon that Dick all-too-happily tags along on every one of Wally and Artemis’ dates and annoys the crap out of them, but he claims that he and Wally are “heterosexual life partners” and are therefore a package deal.  

Wally and Artemis are trying to enjoy a movie at the theater, when suddenly an arm reaches from behind them and grabs a handful of popcorn. They look back and are shocked to discover Dick, sitting in the seat behind them and sobbing loudly as Bing Bong dies. 

They’re sipping a milkshake together in a diner, when Dick out of nowhere throws himself in the seat next to Wally and exclaims “Chocolate, my favorite! Thanks, guys!” And he drinks the rest of their milkshake, all the while talking about how he asked out Zatanna and is planning a double date. 

On a Ferris wheel together, when out of nowhere Dick drops from the sky and into their seat, squeezing himself in between Wally and Artemis as he helps himself to their cotton candy. “Heh heh, you guys must have accidentally left me back at the bumper cars. You’re so funny, for a second I though you were trying to ditch me ha ha.”     

One morning Artemis wakes up and sees that there’s someone between her and Wally snoring loudly in their bed. She expects it to be Brucley, but it turns out to be Dick, who’s wearing Superman pajamas despite being a 19 year old man and he’s snuggling Wally in his sleep. Wally later tells her, “Oh yeah I forgot to mention, he needs someone to cuddle with after he has nightmares." 

Finally Artemis confronts Wally about it. "Babe, we really need to talk about Dick. Can’t you just ask him to give us some space?,” she asks him one night after a bowling date was unsurprisingly interrupted by their one and only boy wonder. 

“Sorry, but at this point he considers himself an official member of this relationship, hon." 

"Okay, but isn’t it a little strange that he insists on sleeping in our bed?" 

At that moment Dick of course walks into their apartment, dropping his jacket on the floor and plopping down on the couch. "Hey, guys! Guess what, I just booked us reservations at Olive Garden!" 

Wally and Artemis both sigh with exhaustion. 

I won’t sleep if you won’t sleep

Summary: After the nogitsune, Stiles is unable to sleep. To help, he has a spell cast on him that will link him with Derek.

Notes: I intended this to be a bedsharing fic, but it’s more of sleeping and snuggling fic. Oh, well. (On AO3)


“You all understand the purpose of the spell, and what it entails,” Deaton says, looking around the room. “Right?”

Scott, looking guilty, gives a little nod, and everyone else follows suit. This has to be the strangest intervention Derek has ever been to.

He glances over at Erica, who’s leaning casually in the corner, and then to Isaac, who is crossing his arms nervously. Boyd is staring thoughtfully, Scott is looking sadly at Stiles, and Stiles…

Stiles looks tired.

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okay but imagine dayton white giving you victory head: he’s just won the biggest race of his life and he’s just buzzing with energy afterwards, can’t contain the smile on his face if you paid him to. as soon as he gets the chance, he’s pulling you away, away from the gaggle of people trying to get pictures and congratulate him. he guides you to the trailer they use to move his car race to race, throwing open the driver’s seat door and throwing you across the seats. it’s tight fit, but there’s /just/ enough room for him to get your pants and panties off. he bends over you, still wearing his hat and that goddamn jumpsuit, and just goes to town, mouth working at your heat as soon as you spread your legs. he’s frantic with it, the hands holding on to your hips are shaking, tongue and teeth and lips working in tandem to get you off. all the while, you’re guiding his head, fingers wrapped around the bill off his cap. you find your release not once, not twice, but /three/ times before he finally lets up, pulling away, boyish grin pulling at his sinful lips.

 "Did I do good, darlin’?“ he asks you, southern accent just that much thicker, dripping from his mouth like honey. you’re nodding, blissful and breathless at the sudden turn of events as he cleans you up the best he can, using napkins he finds from the glove department. eventually you two make it back to the crowd and his friends hunt you down, asking where the two of you went off to. the words die on their lips as they take in the blush high on your cheeks and the way his lips are too pink, plump and swollen. 

 "Do a little celebratin’ on your own, White?” the man in question just shrugs, tugging you into his side by your waist. he hides his sly grin in your hair, pale eyes shinin’ with mischief. “Had to get my girl as excited as I was, is all.”

the best parts of the dream thieves (featuring me crying pt. 2)

part one

- “Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war” 

- Ronan’s second secret #gay

- Gansey: “i would have thought you had more muscles. Don’t feminist have big muscles?” i just want to punch him can someone please punch him

- gansey calling ronan an incredible creature #gay 

- “The elderly made ronan anxious” bitch me too!!!

- Ronan wanting to race kavinsky in the pig and adam is like dude no there is like 5 people in here we weigh too much and ronan goes: “noah doesn’t count” “Hey!” “You’re dead!” i love these nerds

- Gansey: “am I in your dreams?” Ronan: “Oh yes, baby” i hate him jsjksksk

- “Ronan sometimes dreamt of Adam, too” #gay

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derrekshales  asked:

sterek + #6 or 15 for the prompts please??

“I’d kill for a coffee … literally.”

Stiles slumped into the seat, throwing his head back and groaned, “I’d kill for a coffee … literally.”

Around him, the coffee shop was bustling with life. From baristas racing to finish orders and take new ones to customers chatting. The decorations from Christmas were still up even four days after, giving Stiles the biggest ache for a day off.

From where he was rapidly typing away across from Stiles, Derek muttered, “He does this every day.”

Stiles straightened himself immediately and jerked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Derek, “What’s that supposed to mean? Huh?”

“I’m just saying,” he clarified, glancing up and shrugging his shoulders quickly, “you do tend to say the same thing every single time you finish your shift, muttering about someone’s unnecessarily complicated order or yelling at the cashier.”

Stiles huffed, “It’s the torture of being a barista, I swear. Der, customer service is a terrible job prospect. You should be grateful that you never have to deal with it.”

“Trust me, I am.”

Stiles leaned forward with his hands on the table, “So, whatcha workin’ on there? Is it your new novel? Can I read some? Did you finally end up writing a chapter? Did you finally name a character after me? If I find out that Scott gets a character named after him and I don’t, I’m going to cry.”

Derek stopped typing and stared at him, a smile itching to form at the corners of his mouth. He looked slightly amused, maybe even—dare he say it—fond. “Scott gets a character because he’s my cousin. You are Scott’s friend.”

“Is that all I am?” Stiles tried to make sure his voice stayed light and airy, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Sure, he was related to his best friend—nay, his bro—but that didn’t mean that Derek didn’t mean something to Stiles. In fact, though he may deny this to anyone who ever asked, Stiles had been harbouring a massive crush on Derek since the day that he walked in, hair windblown, head-to-toe clad in leather with his glasses on. And it got worse when all Stiles could feel was heat pooling into his stomach when he saw that Derek wore henleys and sweaters under all that leather.

“No, you’re also a pain in my ass,” Derek replied, his fingers already speeding away on the keyboard.

“Hilarious, Derek, didn’t know you could make jokes.” Stiles looked away towards a couple on a date on the other side of the store.

“Of course, didn’t you know that I was planning on being a comedian? Writing is just something I do for fun.”

Stiles turned to face Derek again, arching a single brow.

“Stiles, you’re one of my closest friends, alright? I don’t just make jokes or socialize with just anyone. I’ve stayed up watching you throw up both into a toilet and onto me. I’ve seen you inhale cake. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re one of my pains in the ass. And besides, I never said you weren’t in the novel; it’s not my fault that you jump to conclusions way too often,” Derek smirked.

Stiles couldn’t help but grin widely, a small blush beginning to crawl up onto his face. Derek called him one of his closest friends. “Ooh, getting all sappy there, aren’t we, Mr. Hale?”

Derek glared. Stiles would’ve been terrified if he didn’t know how much of a softie Derek truly was. “Don’t make me write you sonnets.”

“Can you?!” Imagine that, Derek Hale writing Stiles Stilinski sonnets and poetically performing them outside of his window.

“No. For that you have to date me.”

Derek was flirting. With him. Derek was flirting with him—in his own weird way, of course. “Fine, pick me up at six tonight, Hale. With a sonnet.” Stiles winked.

Derek smiled back at him, soft and warm. Stiles hoped, quite desperately may he add, that his heart would slow the fuck down and let him just melt into a puddle.

“It’s a date.”

BTS Reaction to Their Bestfriend Accidently Confessing to Them; Jungkook Version

Originally posted by officialwookkibby

Word Count: 1,179

“Y/N! C'mon, hurry up! You move like an old lady!” Jungkook whined as you slowly got out of your car, checking and making sure that you had everything that you needed.

“Jungkook, the fair isn’t going anywhere.” you teased like a mother would to her child. Jungkook held open your door impatiently, hopping slightly from excitement. When your butt was finally out of the car, Jungkook slammed the door shut, grabbed your hand, and dragged you off to the entrance of the fair with a large smile on his face.

“I know, but I wanna go and spend as much time with you as possible!” he said, happily skipping into the fairgrounds with you trying to keep up from behind.

You chuckled and shook your head, gazing at his backside with a certain longing in your eyes. You and Jungkook had met that same year at university, in your intro to psychology class. You sat in the back of the lecture hall, since you arrived late and didn’t want to be scolded by your professor for tardiness on the first day. Jungkook sat four seats down to your left, obviously, he hadn’t woken up to his alarm either.

Your relationship went from shy smiles, to throwing notes over the empty seats, to him sitting next to you with your knees brushing and up to your best friend status that you proudly held today. However, you couldn’t deny the attraction you had for your adorable, yet cocky best friend and oh how you wish you could just tell him how you felt. For now, though, you were happy being one of his closest friends; supporting him through his studies and his dream of becoming a singer.

You took in the smells of the fair; powdered sugar, fry oil, and something buttery and fattening that made your mouth water. Jungkook’s eyes shined with excitement as he led you to a funnel cake booth, buying you both one to share as you wandered into the petting zoo area, sneaking the baby animals bits of your fried, sugary goodness.

“Hey look, I found your dapple gangers.” you teased when you ran over to the hordes of bunnies. Jungkook just stuck his tongue out at you, but cooed none the less when one of the rabbits crawled into his lap. As you were petting the bunnies, Jungkook gently grabbed your hand, locking your fingers together with his. You looked up at him and saw that he had a slight blush on his cheeks and another bunny perched on his shoulder, making you giggle at his cuteness.

“You alright Kookie? You’re looking flushed.” you asked, running your free hand over his forehead and pushing some of his hair back. Jungkook just smiled and squeezed your combined hands.

“Never better Y/N. Let’s go on some rides, yeah?” he suggested, gently placing down the balls of fluff and leading you out of the petting zoo; walking with you to the rides. He never let go of your hand, and you inwardly smiled to yourself. Sure, Jungkook was always close to you like this, but the small victories always counted.

He took you on some fast-paced rides first: the little fast kiddie coasters, spinning teacups, bumper cars (which you totally beat him in, even though Jungkook wouldn’t admit it aloud) and one of those drop-down rides that always made your stomach do flips. After begging him to allow you to sit and rest, he placed you on a bench by the game booths and you watched him play from afar.
He won game after game, and slowly the bench you sat at was covered with fluffy stuffed animals and a new fish friend that you both named Marius.

“Jungkook, there is one thing I’d like to do before we leave.” you told him as you shared a serving of blue cotton candy. Jungkook’s lips were tinted lightly with the dyed sugar, and you were sure that your lips mirrored his. In a large bag over his back held all the toys he won, and you insisted that you’d carry Marius safely in your hands.

“Yeah? Anything you want Y/N, we can do!” he said happily.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel? The sun is setting, and I bet the view is amazing from up there.” you said dreamily. The corners of Jungkook’s lips pulled up in a smirk and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for my best friend.” he said, nudging your side playfully. You could feel your heart slow and the smile on your lips fall an inch.

“Yeah, best friend.” you mumbled quietly to yourself as you followed Jungkook to the Ferris wheel. You both secured your winnings in one of those large storage containers and hopped on the ride. Jungkook sat next to you and he poked your cheek when the ride started to move. You went around once, twice, and then the cart stopped at the top on the third spin.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” Jungkook mumbled, staring at the pinkish orange hue of the dusk sky. You nodded.

‘It is, but it’s not as beautiful as you.’ you thought.

“You think I’m beautiful, Y/N?” Jungkook asked. You turned to look at him with confusion in your eyes. Did he just read your mind? The stupid smirk on his face made your cheeks feel hot with blush.

“Did I just say that out loud?” you asked sheepishly, looking down at your shoes.

“You did, you did. Is there something you’d like to tell me Y/N? Do you like me?” Jungkook teased.

“Not funny Kookie, don’t tease.” you said softly, taking a deep breath before looking up at him again. His lips were still blue, the mischievous glint in his eyes made him look younger, and you couldn’t help but fall even more in love with the cute, yet handsome man sitting next to you.

“I do…like you. And I hope that this won’t ruin our friendship. Because before anything you were my friend first and I hope that we-”

Jungkook cut you off with his lips gently pressing against yours. You could taste the remnants of sugar on his lips and you melted at the feel of how soft they were. You brought your hands up around his neck, pulling him in closer as his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs stroking the soft apples of your cheeks. The kiss was slow, both of your lips just brushing together in between soft breaths, testing the boundaries and just feeling, tasting, and loving. Jungkook pulled away first, resting his forehead against your own as you both caught your breath, both your cheeks flushed in red.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. Does that answer your question Y/N?” he asked softly, a small smiling tugging on the corners of his lips. You nodded and laughed airily.

“Kookie, you look so cute when you blush.” you admitted, and Jungkook grinned, leaning in to peck your lips gently as the Ferris wheel started to descend.

“And your blush is absolutely stunning…my jagiya.”

Grim Reaper Girlfriend

I did a trade with @asketchbookthing and one of her requests was a skeletal grim reaper type, so I decided to make a skeletal girlfriend. I had so much fun writing this one. 

   For the last few weeks, you’ve been coming to the park and sitting on the same bench, watching people and sometimes throwing bread for the birds. You’ve been doing this because it was what your grandfather always did. He would come, sit, watch, throw. This was his seat for the last few months of his life and you want to see that part for just a little bit before your life moves you along.

   Although, you aren’t alone on the bench. Not long after you started sitting there someone else started to come and sit beside you. They’re tall and shadowed, their body draped all in black and face hidden by a large hood. At first, you didn’t talk to them, it seemed a bit too macabre a situation. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone and you could hear Rod Serling whispering a monologue in your ear.

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The R word: it follows me everywhere I go. As I walk into a crowded room the first thing I hear is a joke, the punchline; what the victim is wearing.

I cry in the middle of the week because I want to feel validated. Validation tears are the worst because they are prolonged waterfalls of sanity. When you come out of the womb you cry because you are human and you are supposed to cry and if you do not there is something wrong with you.

Why is it that now when I cry I get blank stares and radio waves of “she’s the weird girl who cries in public” and I get multiple “Are you okay’s” which ultimately means;

“Please be okay because I don’t want to take on your problems on top of my own, please don’t actually share how you feel because I don’t really care I was just asking to be nice.”

The R word doesn’t stop moving, it is Newton’s first law. It is a cycle which always starts with innocence. White frat boys in blue checkered shorts and pink collared shirts throw this word around as if it is a free for all frisbee tournament. Whoever has the furthest throw wins a back seat ride with the next girl they find.

Whenever I am faced with the word I bury my face, hoping nobody will find out that I am a girl who was apart of a non-consensual act of disgust.

Why is it that even though I was not to blame I still get blamed? Why is it that even though I am tearing down all of my walls by writing this I will still get knocked down? Why is it that even though I am not at fault I still feel immense guilt which drowns me? I feel buried in dirt that’s not mine.

R: Rabid hearts with sharp teeth and wet jaws are looking for someone to pounce on, someone who will satisfy their hunger.

A: About every 98 seconds an American woman is sexually assaulted. It takes one minute and 38 seconds for someone to be transformed into a life time supply of guilt and shame.

P: Poor boy, it ruined his career as an athlete, poor boy, poor boy, poor boy. Poor boy? What about the girl he devoured in one sitting? What about her health? What about her well being? Nobody ever talks about how the survivor’s lives have changed but rather how Brock Turner’s potential as a swimmer was ruined.

E: Everyone has a chance of getting assaulted. Don’t forget about the boys who have to stay silent because it is socially unacceptable for them to talk about their feelings, let alone being raped.

The R word makes me feel queasy, no, more than queasy, on edge, hurt, reserved.

We live in a world where it has become the norm to be sexually assaulted but unacceptable to speak up about it because we are afraid.

We live in a world where people say “rape is never the victims fault” until their friends, their sons, their daughters become the rapist.

—  A TRIBUTE TO ALL SURVIVORS, Iris Blue