woman walking with a dog

A woman let her dog shit on the airport floor. So I shit on her plans.

While walking to my gate at LAX, I noticed a woman whose dog was in the middle of doing its business. The woman was loudly face-timing with her back to the dog, so I assumed she didn’t notice. That was likely the thought shared by the gentleman who tried to get her attention.

“Excuse me, miss?” he said, in a polite tone. The woman glared at him. “Your dog,” he sheepishly continued, pointing to the mid-poop pup.

The woman rolled her eyes and went back to face time as the man slinked away, seemingly embarrassed.

“Some people,” she bellowed to her face-time companion with no hint of irony, “are just so damned rude.”

When her dog finished, the woman started walking away, leaving everything right on the airport floor. Another woman tried to stop her.

“You’re not going to clean that up?” she asked, as shocked as the rest of us were.

“They have people for that,” the offender replied, disappearing into the crowd, as much as someone yelling into their phone can disappear into a crowd.

I stood near the pile and warned people to walk around it while someone else got a maintenance worker’s attention. No one said anything – we were so shocked that anyone could be that horrible.

When I got to my gate, the woman was there, too. Great – we were both going to Tokyo. When I travel abroad, I get embarrassed by other Americans doing things one hundred times less embarrassing than leaving animal feces on the floor of an airport. To make it worse, her dog was now barking at everyone who walked by.

I have nothing against people flying with their dogs, I do it often. But it is a privilege I take seriously. My dog is well-trained and behaves better than most people. He certainly behaves better than that a**hole.

Speaking of a**holes, there is a pet relief area inside LAX, past security, just two gates away from where The Party Pooper let her dog go to town. It didn’t matter - she was the type of person to litter three feet from an empty garbage can.

While her dog barked at the world, the woman had moved from face-timing with no headphones to listening to music with no headphones. I don’t like to throw around the word “sociopath” but I don’t know how else I could explain just how selfish and terrible of a person she was. I’d bet her car was somewhere in long-term parking, parked across three spots with paint on the bumper from the child’s bike she hit without leaving a note.

Everyone else tried to ignore her, sitting as far away from her as they could. I am not everyone else.

I sat down right next to the horrible woman. “Are you going to London on business?” I said.

“I’m going to Tokyo,” she responded gruffly, annoyed that I interrupted her DJing.

“Oh, I said. Then you better hurry. That flight got moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to London.”

I figured I could give her a little moment of panic as payback for how terribly she was treating everyone. I didn’t predict what would happen next. She grabbed her bags and her dog in a huff, and stormed out of the gate without even checking. She was so self-involved, she didn’t notice that the monitor at our gate still said Tokyo and almost everyone at the gate was Japanese.

Based on her actions, she believed me that the flight had been moved, so she’s also an asshole for not thanking me. “Some people,” I thought as I watched her rush away from the gate without stopping her, “are just so damned rude.”

The flight to Tokyo was at gate 69A, so the 53 gates were on the other side of the next terminal. And I felt guilty knowing she probably berated some poor clerk who had to explain to her that there was no gate 53C.

I don’t know if she made it back to this flight before we took off or not, but I didn’t see her board and I don’t hear her dog. Her missing her flight was not my original intention, but it would be a fine punishment for her being so rude to everyone and making a low-paid stranger clean feces off the floor. What makes me wonder if I went too far is the knowledge that Delta only has one flight to Tokyo each day. Whoops.

Maybe she can re-book on another airline. I hear they have people for that.


For @abloodneed, one of the most amazing, beautiful men alive. Thank you for always being you.

There were certain things that Magnus feared. The loss of a loved one—his mind flashed to quick strides, dark hair and hazel eyes—, the loss of a friend—his breath caught at the image of dark eyes, dark hair streaked with grey, twin horns, and skin grown cold—, and the loss of his children—the downworlders he’d taken underneath his wings. His fingers dug into the oak coffee table, scouring the wood as his mind supplied him with images of everyone of them that he’d lost. Drawing in breath was hard, like he was suffocating, a direct contradiction to the cool breeze wafting into the outdoor patio of the mundane bar he’d decided to visit. Sometimes, he just needed that time to himself, amongst the mundanes that entertained him with how they scurried about in their daily lives, unaware of the world that existed in the shadows.

He did just that at the moment, watching them go about their lives when suddenly, everything… froze. From the waiter who had been heading to his table, to the lovers celebrating their recent engagement. Even the late night dog walker and her dog were frozen in place, her with a hand halfway up her hair, and the dog with his tongue half pulled into his mouth. As he took in the the sight, everyone frozen as far as he could he could see, and as he heard those footsteps, calm and unhurried, that oozing mass of power that would cower a lesser man, have them scurrying away or bending their heads in submission, Magnus came face to face with his biggest fear.

“Drinking alone,” a voice he’d heard only once in his life and had hoped he would never hear again wafted out to him, moments before the owner of the voice slid into the seat across from him. White suit—expensive as expected, stretched over a tall lanky form. “Now that doesn’t suit you Magnus,” he drawled as he casually shrugged off the jacket, undid the diamond studded cufflinks so he could roll up his sleeves and show off his forearms. Long lean fingers reached up to run through hair that was kept in place by the crown of barbed wire on his head. He waved his hands and men—shapeshifting demons, Magnus was sure—who’d accompanied him all gave them a wide berth.

“And how would you know what suits or doesn’t suit me,” Magnus tossed back as he reached for his glass of bourbon. “You don’t know me.”

The man grinned, teeth sharp in the moonlight. “Now, now Magnus. Why would you say that? Is that how you speak to your father?”

Magnus raised a brow and took a sip of his bourbon, eyes hard as he stared back at Asmodeus.

Keep reading

pet shop girl

Harry is lonely and meets a girl at a pet shop 

 I slowly pulled in and parked in the spot directly right in front of the shop. I turn off the ignition and pull the keys out of the socket and stuff them in my pocket. I reach for the door handle and pull it down to step out of the car. I stroll up and step on the side walk, reaching and ripping the door handle open. I hear the loud chimes as I opened the door all the way. I see an older woman feeding a few of the puppies some kibble, when she notices my presence she lifts her head up and look over towards my way.

Keep reading

every anti-depressant commercial

there’s a woman. She’s in a house it’s decorated nicely.

She looks out of her window and sees her kids on swings with her husband. She looks down in defeat. The voice over asks if you’ve had feelings of depression.

The woman and her husband are sitting across from a doctor, the doctor is always wearing glasses. They all nod in slow motion. The voice over talks about taking this drug.

The woman is walking her dog. She’s outside and the sun is shining. She’s in an open field or a park with no one else around.

Her kids join her. She buys a soft pretzel. All in slow motion.

It’s late at night. She’s walking with her friends down a busy sidewalk, she’s laughing, in slow motion.

They enter a building. It’s a smooth jazz concert. The woman is dancing, In slow motion.

The voice over reads us symptoms of taking this anti-depressant. But it’s fine since the woman at the smooth jazz concert doesn’t seem to be experiencing signs of a heart attack.

ask your doctor if Zootopia is right for you

Bts | Reaction | Prophesy

[ made this into a soulmate!bts kind of reaction/drabble, some of them mght suck¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but hope you enjoy it no less, anon and thanks for requesting :) ]


*What’s your favorite color?

Seokjin would be sitting outside one of his favorite coffee shops, alone. He felt a little strange that he was talking with his brain, hoping to get an answer this time. He just didn’t get it - when the mark showed up, he was sure that he would be able to speak to her in his thoughts. Jin never really discovered what the other link was - he knew there were three - and he was losing hope.

He knew it was ridiculous to believe in fairy tale nonsense about soulmates and how to find them - but these past couple of months have turned him into a believer in no time. Especially when the mark finally showed up. Now here he was, sitting in silence as the streets were practically empty and people were starting to head home. Looking at his watch, he sighs heavily. This was just turning into a chore - he should’ve known that no one can communicate with their-


Jin nearly spat out his drink as his head suddenly echoed with a feminine voice. It sounded so unsure, as if she too felt really stupid by talking with her brain. With his mouth agape, he sat there for what felt like eternity, not really knowing what to say next. It wasn’t until the voice spoke again.

**I’ve actually been hearing you for days now. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, I just thought I was losing my mind. But, now I see the mark, so I know it’s true. You must be my soulmate.

Once again, not really having an answer, Jin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. If anyone were to be walking by, they would probably think he was a loon for smiling at nothing in particular. It wasn’t until he finally realized that the girl he’s been trying for so long to communicate with was finally responding - why keep her waiting?

*What’s your name?

Jin felt chill bumps form all around his body as the sound of her laugh practically echoed around his mind - what a weird feeling, but such a beautiful sound.

**Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?

*Yeah! I-I mean, sure, go right ahead. Ask me anything.

**When’s your birthday?

*December 4, 1992.

There was silence after that. He didn’t know if it was because she was waiting for his question next, or maybe someone caught her attention and made her forget that they were talking - but not really talking. After a few minutes of silence, she finally sighs.

**You’re older than me.


She laughs once again, this time making him laugh as well. But, on the outside. A woman had stopped walking her dog to overlook Jin with a raised eyebrow. Slightly embarrassed, he politely waves, saying how he just thought of something funny. Rolling her eyes in response, she continues on.

**But, only by a year. I was born on the same day, though. Kinda cool, huh?

*Oh, my gosh! Thank you!

**Um, for what?

*You just helped me figure out what the third link was. I read somewhere that there were these signs that help you discover your soulmate. First the mark, then the mind-reading, and finally the share of birth.

**Wait…where did you read that at?

*It was some bookstore I lived nearby.

**Did…did an old woman force you to come inside? And she looked so sweet and frail, you just couldn’t say no?

*Okay…now you’re starting to scare me. How did you know all of tha-wait. Do you live in my area?! Are you close by?!

Jumping up from his seat, almost knocking it over, he scans the area. Jin didn’t even know what she looked like, yet he was determined to lock eyes with anyone he felt was the one. It wasn’t until his eyes laid upon a woman inside one of the boutiques from across the street. What drew his attention to her was the fact that she too was looking around. It couldn’t be coincidence - it just couldn’t.

*I think I see you. Uh, lift up your right leg and wiggle it around - so I know it’s really you!

The woman in the boutique smiles softly - nearly making Jin’s heart stop. There was barely anyone in the store to smile at - it just had to be her. A few seconds later, she did what she was told and started wiggling her right leg in the air; quickly putting it back down before she got any weird looks. Jin felt like he couldn’t breath. There she was, this whole time, living close by. She might have even walked passed him a few times and he didn’t even know it.

**Did you see me?

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turns around to come face to face with who she thought would be a random stranger. But, when he opened his mouth and spoke - Y/n nearly fainted right on the spot.

“I see you~”


He couldn’t believe his eyes.

On his doorstep, there it laid. A new-born baby, wrapped up in a blanket - with nothing but a note resting on its chest. Yoongi looked around for any signs of a person who could’ve put it there, only to come up with nothing but darkness.

“Fuck…” He says under his breath, his attention back on the sleeping baby in the basket.

“Who is it, babe?” His wife must’ve wondered what was taking him so long at the door, leaving her to sit at the dinner table by herself. Tonight they were celebrating each other’s birthday - having been born on the same day. Once she was behind Yoongi, her reaction to what was on the doorstep was much more emotional than his.

“Oh, my god, a baby.”

Quickly kneeling down to the sleeping child, she gently picked it up while cooing to the squirming bundle. Slowly rocking it, she removes the note off its chest and read it out loud to her husband. “Her name is Mi Sun. Born March 9th, 2016. Take care of her, Mr. and Mrs. Min. She’s your destiny now.

“March 9th?!” He exclaimed, accidentally startling the poor girl. Awakening from her peaceful slumber, she looks around for a moment before her face scrunches in discomfort for being disturbed. “Ah, shit..”

“Language, Min Yoongi.”

Language? A baby has been dropped on our doorstep, anonymously, and you’re worried about my language? Y/n, are you not freaked out that whoever left her here somehow knew our last name? Or even the fact that she has the same birthday as the two of us?”

She could see it in his eyes that he was horrified. Yoongi tried so hard sometimes to hide how he was feeling - but it was always his eyes that gave him away. Adjusting Mi Sun to rest her head on Y/n’s shoulder, she used her free hand to caress the side of his face - it never failed to calm him down.

“Baby, this isn’t the end of the world. If anything, I see this as a gift. I mean, we just recently got married, the discussion of children has been off and on between us - and now we got one. Don’t you see what this means?”

“No more having sex at random times?” Lightly smacking the cheek she was caressing, Yoongi winces playfully before smiling. “I’m kidding. Jagi, I know we’ve been wanting a baby for a while but…is this really a smart option?”

Looking down at the calmed infant, Y/n couldn’t help but smile at how curious she was when half awake. Her eyes were droopy, but that didn’t stop them from scanning everything in sight. A warm feeling filled her chest as she hugged Mi Sun to it. It just…felt so right. Staring up at him, Y/n batted her eyelashes while her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Please, Suga-bear? We can’t get rid of her - not on her birthday~” Almost cringing at the nickname she gave him, he just couldn’t resist saying yes to whatever she wanted when she looked at him like that. “I bet as soon as you hold her, you’ll instantly fall in love.”

Taking that challenge, Yoongi holds out his hands so that he could have a turn. Smiling in victory, Y/n gently removes Mi Sun from her comfortable position and handed her over to him. Making sure to support her head, Yoongi holds her in a cradle position - letting Mi Sun have full eye contact privileges whenever she wanted. Again, she looked around in her new position, until finally setting her eyes on Yoongi. With no expression on his face, he stares right back.

“Say something to her, you dummy.” 

Sighing heavily, he does. “Um…hello there, tiny human. You were quite the surprise that came on our doorstep at 8:30 at night, that’s for sure. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, but now that the opportunity is right in front of me, I gotta tell you that I’m terrified right now. You sure do like to stare, don’t you? Why does it feel like you haven’t blinked since you laid eyes on me? Am I that amazing?”


“Kidding, I’m kidding.” He chuckles softly, still not breaking eye contact with Mi Sun. “You’ve got some pretty eyes, I’ll give you that. Whoever left you here on our doorstep is gonna regret it later on - they were cowards. But, we won’t abandon you. I’ll be there to dry your tears, give you kisses goodnight, hold you when you’re scared, and make you feel sa-Ahhh jagi, she’s smiling! She’s smiling at me! I made her smile!”

Having to shush him to keep him quite and not wake the neighbors, Y/n’s own smile only widened to the point it was starting to hurt. She only wished she had a camera to catch this delicate moment - it hasn’t even been five minutes, and he was already claiming her as his own. That warm feeling from earlier grew stronger by now, as she watched him bond with Mi Sun. What really almost made her face split in half was how Yoongi gently placed a kiss on her forehead.

“You know, jagi? What you said earlier…this might actually be one of the best gifts I think I’ve ever gotten.”

“See? I told you - you fell in love. We may never know who left her here - or why. But…the universe works in mysterious ways. Who are we to question what it has planned for us?”

Breaking eye contact for only a moment to look at his wife - the woman who did start out as a pain in the ass, only to soon turn into the love of his life - he grins. Looking back down at the bundle in his arms with adoration, Yoongi couldn’t have agreed more.

“Welcome to the family, baby girl.”


Rap Mon was a born troublemaker.

There was no ands, ifs, or buts about it - it’s just who he was. Everything in his life consisted of drugs, violence - basically anything illegal. His life was carefree, with no responsibilities, nobody to look out for and no worries. Until one day, all of what he was used to be doing would soon come to an end. Soon, it’ll be goodbye Rap Monster and hello Kim Namjoon. He knew as soon as he bumped into her on the streets that it was all over from then on.

There was no turning back.

“Hmph. Thought you would’ve been dead by now, with all those drugs you’ve inject into your body.” She spits, arms crossed as she practically judged his whole life with just one look.

“Ugh, still the uptight little daddy’s girl, aren’t we? What are you doing on this part of town? Your ivory tower is no where near this direction.”

“It’s none of your business. Don’t you got some whore to pay a visit to and never call again?” Before she could push past him, he was quick to grab her arm. She knew she should’ve just kept her mouth shut. “Let go of me.”

“Are you seriously still heated about that? That was all the way back in college - we’re adults now, sweetheart, can’t you play nice?”

“Only one of us has the privilege of saying they’re an adult, and it sure as hell ain’t you. What you did to me was so low, I physically can’t get over it. And don’t call me sweetheart. You lost that right the minute you took your clothes off for another girl. Now, let go of my arm.”

No matter how much she tugged, his grip was always stronger. If she knew coming to that part of town would have an opportunity for her to run into the last man she ever wanted to see again - she wouldn’t even have left her house. But, she had no choice. This was the only way to get to the babysitter.

“Not until you tell me where you’re going - someone like you shouldn’t be wandering around here by yourself. Especially when you look too fine in this pencil skirt.” Not being able to help himself, Namjoon smirks as blush started forming on her face. “Aw, still the squeamish, innocent little Y/n I once knew.”

Groaning in aggravation, it was clear that he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I’m going to pick someone up. I just got off work, and would like to be there on time - if you would just please let my fucking arm loose.”

“Oh, who’re you picking up? You got yourself a new boy-toy? What, he ain’t got no car to pick you up in? What’s his name?”

“What is this - twenty questions? We haven’t seen each other for over three and a half years - and I intend on keeping it that way. So I’m going to tell you one more time - let me go.” Finally breaking free of his hold, she rubbed her arm to sooth feeling back into it. He never did know how to be gentle. About to part ways by saying a one-sided goodbye, the sound of a small voice calling out from behind her almost made her heart stop.


No, not now. Why now? She chanted in her head to no one in particular. Turning on her heel swiftly, and there they were. The babysitter, holding hands with a very eager three year old boy as his excitement to see his mother was very evident. Y/n could just feel Namjoon’s eyes burning into the back of her head, mentally cursing at herself for even interacting with him instead of just walking away.

“Mommy?” He finally spoke, his voice so timid - she almost didn’t catch it. “You…You have a son?”

Gulping to moisten her dry throat, Y/n decides to ignore his question and just kneel down to the awaiting child. The babysitter happily lets go and smiles softly as the toddler practically sprinted into her arms. Hugging him tightly, Y/n stands back up to greet the babysitter, and reach with her free hand for what she owed for watching her son. After getting a grip on her wallet in her pocket, Y/n wasn’t expecting the sitter to already have money in her hands. Mouth slightly agape, she realizes that Namjoon had payed for her.

Not only did that shock her - but also baffle her. When did he start having money? She could recall all those times they went out when she had to pay for the both of them. 

“So sorry to keep you waiting - I was catching up with the mother. Kinda made her a little side tracked. There’s an extra twenty in there to make up for it.” He spoke with such authority, Y/n almost choked. Where the hell did that come from?

“Oh, uh, thanks a lot! See you next week, Y/n, and happy birthday.” She leans over to give a side hug, and pinch the little boy’s cheek gently. “And a happy birthday to you as well, Hyun. You were such a good boy today. Annyeong!”

Once Y/n waved goodbye, it took all of her strength not to turn around and interact with him again. 

But, unfortunately, she wasn’t strong enough. 

Turning again on her heel, her face was not only red with rage, but also in shame. “How dare you embarrass me like that? I was going to pay her myself, I didn’t need your charity! And where did you get all that money from, huh? You steal it? Selling drugs now, pimping out girls - what?! Where did it come from?!”

Namjoon did nothing but stare at her, his face blank but his eyes held so much more. It wasn’t until she felt the slight squirming her arms did she realize her son was now apart of the conversation; looking up at his mother with caution, she instantly calmed down - so not to frighten him.

“You named him Hyun.”

Scoffing softly, Y/n shrugs. “Yeah, what of it?”

“That night when we were drunk, talking about stupid stuff and our future plans once we graduated…I told you that if we ever had kids together that I would want one of them to be named ‘Hyun’. Y/n…how old is he?”

She gulps deeply as tears started to cloud up her vision. If she told him, there would be no turning back. She knew that the minute she set eyes on him again, after years of finally forgetting him, that this was bound to happen eventually. Peering down at the beautiful little boy in her arms, she couldn’t get over how he looked so much like Namjoon…so much like him, it made it much harder to forget.

“He turned three today. I turned 25 today. As did you…correct?” Another thing that made it hard as well. They all shared the same birthday. Y/n didn’t know if it happened on purpose or on accident that Hyun so happened to be born on their birthdays - but it did. And now t’was the moment of truth.

“Is he mine?”

“What do you think, Kim Namjoon?!” She couldn’t fight them any longer, as the tears had finally started cascading down her face. Y/n didn’t want to cry, not in front of him and definitely not in front of Hyun. “Take a good look at him, and you tell me if he’s yours or not!”

Adjusting her hold on him to where he was on display, Namjoon stared into the eyes that were similar to his. They looked so confused, so frightened - Hyun didn’t know why his mother was so upset or why she was yelling. But, he knew one thing.

“Daddy.” He cooed, reaching for the man in front of him with eager little hands, as the dimples that also matched Namjoon’s came into the light. It was in that moment that he knew.

Goodbye Rap Monster. Hello Kim Namjoon.


➸ “You made it.” 

Y/n adjusted her sundress after being shut into the patted cell. The white walls that surrounded her gave nothing but an uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach, until her eyes locked with vibrant blue ones. It was as if him just being there was enough to calm down her nerves; just him in general. 

 “Of course, Hobi.” She chuckles softly, doing a small twirl right after. “Do you like my dress?” 

“It looks stunning on you, sweetheart. Anything you wear, you make look like priceless silk. I see you brought little man with you, as well~” 

Referring to her baby bump, Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “He goes wherever I go. He’s my plus one - who also misses daddy very much.” 

Taking a few steps closer, Y/n could feel the sour taste in her mouth start to make an appearance, as it would almost every visit. She hated how they treated him like a caged animal. Hoseok was already in a straight-jacket, with a muzzle covering his mouth. Was the glass barrier really necessary? Placing a single hand on the surface, her eyes slowly glazed over with tears. Tears that she promised herself she wouldn’t let him see. This was supposed to be a good day…why ruin it with tears?

“Baby, please don’t cry…” He winces slightly, catching on to her saddened expression. “If this is the last time I get to see you, I don’t want you to be in tears.” 

“I-I can’t help it, Hobi! It’s just not fair! Just because you’re different, they’re going to tear you apart and experiment on you - it’s not fair! Y-You have a family…they can’t do this…”  

“Let’s not talk about that, okay? Let’s talk about something else.” 


“How’s our baby boy doing? Is he healthy?” 

Wiping her eyes clear of any stray tears, Y/n smiles softly at the thought of the life inside of her. Rubbing her stomach in gentle circles, she sniffles. “He’s doing amazing. Strong, like his father. And you’ll never guess when he’s due.”

Hoseok leans closer to the glass with anticipation, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!” 

“February 18th.” 

That news made his heart soar. Y/n only wishes she could see his smile one more time, cursing at the muzzle that hid the beauty away from her. Slowly, he leans his head on the glass near her stomach, signifying that he wanted to talk to him one last time. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/n leans in as well so that way she was sure the baby could hear him. 

“Hey, little buddy~ You being good for mommy? Take good care of our girl, okay, because she’s something special. Oh, the stories I wish I could tell you. Daddy won’t be around anymore, you won’t be able to see daddy, but that doesn’t mean I’m not there. I’ll always be there, watching over you and mommy, forever, and that’s a promise. I love you, so much. With a life full of nothing but mistakes - you and your mother were the only things I got right.” 

By now, his own tears fell. This would be the last time he could see the both of them, and he couldn’t even touch them. Weakly standing up straight, Hoseok stares deeply into her eyes, silently telling her all the words he wished he could voice out loud - but sadly, their time was running out. Smiling through his tears, he leans his head back onto the glass to where their foreheads would touch. 

“You’re not a mistake to me, Jung Hoseok. No matter what they say, you aren’t dangerous. You’re just like anybody else.”

“Yeah, if anybody else could implode the earth with a simple flick of their wrist, they probably would have just let me off with a warning. This is for the best, jagi, you know that.” 

“Best for who? You haven’t hurt anyone, you are nothing but a caring soul - a father. Who the hell is this supposed to be best for?!”

“Sh, sh..” He coos softly, letting her cry as much as she needed to - himself letting his tears continue to fall. “I love you. I love you with all my heart, I want you to know that. I need to hear you say it, just one more time…” 

“I love you, Jung Hoseok. To the moon and back, to the edge of the earth, to kingdom come - I love you. Please…please don’t leave me…” 

“You have to be strong, Y/n. Be strong for not only me, or yourself, but our child. Promise me you’ll move on, find someone new, promise me.”


“Time’s up!” 

The sound of the large, metal door being unlocked brought back that uneasy feeling within Y/n’s stomach. Looking back toward him, she could see the calm in his eyes. How content he was now - now that he got to see his loved ones before it was too late. Three large men in white suits soon followed through the entrance, one of them latching onto her arm and gripping it tightly. 

Panic started to fill her as the other two made their way to where Hoseok stood behind the glass. “Y/n, look at me. I’m not scared - you shouldn’t be either.”

“Hobi, please -” 

“Remember what I asked you - promise me you’ll forget about me and move on, Y/n. Promise me!” 

“OKAY. Okay, I promise…I promise…” She sobs, not wanting to believe that this would be the end between them. Everything they’ve been through together, all of the future plans they made together would no longer matter after today. Before separating them once again, Y/n was able to catch his final words.

“I’m your hope. I’m your angel. Never forget that.” 

Jimin -suicide trigger warning-

 He should’ve known better, to think that a demon could ever love.

That night will forever haunt him, for eternity. 

His wife locked herself inside the bathroom, after finding out that she was unable to conceive children. She blamed herself that she could not give the one thing Jimin had always wanted - no matter how many times he pleaded to her about that being untrue. He never understood why she would even do such a thing - this was something out of her control, yet she took full responsibility.  

He didn’t see the signs - how could he? Putting a demon in a human’s body doesn’t mean it is one. The day he saw her take her own life, it was as if everything in his body was being torn from within him. His heart was no longer beating the way he was used to and everything around him turned gray and lifeless. If this was how he had to live without his love by his side - then what was the point of living at all? 

But, if he were to do this…he needed a little help. 

“Come out. I know you know that I’m here.”

Not even a second later did the creature hanging upside down on a branch morph into human form - slowly descending to the ground. “Well, fuck me in the ass and call me Jin -  look who’s come crawling back. How’s life as a pathetic mortal going? Not so good by the looks of it…Never pegged her as the suicidal type.”

“Cut the shit already, Suga. I’m here to make a deal.”

“A deal with me? You must be desperate to be waking me up from my nap - at my fucking tree - to be demanding shit from me. I could kill you right now and fall my ass back to sleep without hesitation. You betrayed your own kind - just so you could be with one of them. And now that she’s dead, you suddenly want favors from the first person you fucked over? Why should I help you?”

“My soul for hers.”

He blinks a couple of times, digging into his ear to make sure he was hearing correctly. “Come again?”

“I said, my soul for hers. I give back my mortality in exchange that you bring her back to life and…give her back the child we lost. I don’t want her to have any memory of me - just erase all memory she has of me. Replace my face with someone else’s - I don’t care. Just give her a better life. I wasn’t able to comfort her like I should have, I wasn’t able to see the signs, it’s my fault that she’s dead so just please…please Suga….”

By now, Jimin was crying. Something he wasn’t used to be doing either. Demons don’t feel emotion - so turning one into a human was bound to turn into shit sooner or later. He didn’t know how to handle human life, so it was only fair to give her a fresh one. 

Scoffing at the fact the he was crying, Suga finally nods.

“Fine, whatever gets me back to sleeping - you’ve got a deal. I’m sure the boys will just be giddy seeing your ugly ass face again. Set her in front of the tree.”

Doing as he’s told, Jimin sets her lifeless body in front of the large hole in the tree. A split second later, a scarlet red portal began to emerge from inside it. Millions of souls swam around the blood-like surface, screams being heard from deep inside. Once Suga was sure that he saw Y/n’s, he was quick to latch onto it and rip it out of the hole before it had a chance to float away. Not even giving him a chance to prepare for it, Suga pierced Jimin’s skin with a swift slice to his chest, making the said boy hiss in pain.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh, calm down. I need mortal blood in order for this to work. Besides, you deserved that.”

Walking over to Y/n, he lifts her chin up to take in the drop of blood into her mouth, making sure not to waste it. Soon after he was positive that it was spread all around - next came the injection of the soul. And man, was it going to hurt like a bitch.

“Any last words you wanna say to her before she no longer remembers who you are, Jimin? Or are you gonna cry again and waste my time even more?”

Side glaring at the male, Jimin kneels down to caress her face one last time.

“Y/n, baby…I know you can’t hear me, but I just want you to know…I love you so much. And I hope that after this, your life will turn out so much better than it did when you were with me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be, I’m just not cut out to be human. Soulmates or not, I’m toxic for you. So I’m gonna make things right. Goodbye, my love.”

Jimin couldn’t stop the tears as he placed a longing kiss to her forehead. She felt so cold compared to his warm lips and he hated it. It just wasn’t right. Finally standing back up, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, nodding toward Suga - letting him know that he was ready. Cracking his knuckles, Suga found great joy in the screams that Y/n emitted into the cold, night air as he injected her soul back into her body. 

And with every passing second that her body soaked up the life force - soon, so did Jimin.

To present day, Jimin never thought that he would watch his child grow from the dead. Not only was she beautiful like her mother, but she happened to be born on the day Jimin was ‘birthed’. Being a demon, his birthday was more of a deathday. But, you get the idea. Getting a slight pat on his back, Jimin turns to look at one of his hyungs - knowing the look he was receiving meant that it was time to go.

“You’ve tortured yourself long enough, Jimin. It’s time to move on.” Namjoon motioned at the mother and child he was watching with no expression. Never again will he be able to feel that warmth he did when he was human. It was nice for a little while - he was glad he could give it to someone else who could handle it. Taking in one last look, Jimin finally decided that he was ready. His daughter will never know he existed, and Y/n would soon be loving another man instead of him…

But, she will always be his soulmate. 


 He was ruthless. A survivor. A killer. 

Everything he did, he did to protect his own. The men he annihilated, the homes he destroyed, all of which was so we could have a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. Never think of your father as someone who didn’t have a heart. If anything, he’s the most selfless man I’ve known and loved in my whole life; there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me - and vice versa.

Kim Taehyung was a young, vivacious character. Nothing was ever bland or boring with him around - he was one of the few who could brighten up the room by just walking in. He could be obnoxious at times, clingy, immature - but that’s just who he was. And that’s some of the many reasons why I fell in love with him. We were practically made for each other. Soulmates, one could say. 

We even shared the same birthday, as well as you do. 

“Was daddy friendly?” 

You make me laugh, sweetheart. Of course, he could be, but there were times when being friendly wasn’t an option. You see, your father was a very powerful man. He ran an underground organization that was in charge of something… very illegal. Taehyung always did have a taste for dangerous things - the adrenaline rush just something he didn’t want to let go of. But, one day, all of that rush finally caught up with him. Sadly, your father bit more off than he could chew. 

“What happened to him?” 

That’s a very bloody story for another time, honey. I’ll save it for next time, what do you think? 

“I think that when this baby comes out, it’ll think I’m a complete pussy. Why you gotta lie and say that I died - do you got some kind of sick fantasy about my death that I don’t know about, jagi?” 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I’m only having a little fun~” I couldn’t help but grin, giggling softly as he starts to place pecks all over my stomach - small kicks responding not too long after. 

“I do not ‘bite more off than I can chew’. I take a reasonable bite out of things, and can handle them perfectly fine. You should know, I used to bite you all the time~” 

“I hate to interrupt this family moment - but you’re gonna be late for that meeting with the leader of EXO. Last thing we need is a pissed off ally, now get your shit on and let’s go. Hey, Y/n.” 

“Hey, Hobi.” I salute the disappearing figure, watching as all Taehyung did was stick his tongue out. “Stop that, and you wonder why I kill you at the end of those stories - I can’t take you serious enough not to.” 

“Hurtful…” He pouts, but quickly places a kiss to my forehead before getting up to get his shoes back on and strap his gun to his side. “Wish me luck, baby.” 

“As if you really need it.”

“That’s my girl~” He winks, leaning down to nuzzle against my stomach one more time. “This is also my girl~” 

“Taehyung!” Someone shouts from down the hall, making him growl in response. Not needing to be pushed any further, he practically sprints out of the room - the door being slammed and locked shut right behind him. 

Patting the spot on my stomach he used to be, I smile at the small tap from what I suspected to be a foot - in response. He’s ruthless. He’s a survivor. He’s a killer.

But, he’s also a father. And at the end of the day - we will always come first.


 He didn’t believe it. Not even a little bit.  

They were weaving their way through the airport, trying to get everything situated before their flight had to leave in under 20 minutes. Their American tour went a lot better than they thought, leaving them to feel accomplished and all performed out; heading back home for some much needed rest. 

“I can’t wait to get back home. Being separated from my lady for this long has been nothing but torture - it’ll feel so good to have her in my arms again~” 


“You can say that again, she’s all I’ve been able to think about these past few months. Now I don’t have to reduce to nothing but kissing the screen when we say our goodbyes.” 

Give me a break. 

“Not even gonna let her leave the room when I get back-”

“Okay, I think I have to use the bathroom! Anyone else?! No?! GOOD.” Not giving them a chance to respond, Jungkook quickly redirects himself toward the nearest bathroom - not even listening to their protests of doing so. He’ll be fine, he thought. American girls weren’t all that crazy. 

At least that’s what he hoped.  

He was just so tired of them going on and on about having someone waiting on them back at home, and what they were going to do with them and how cute they were, just BLAH BLAH BLAH. Being the youngest of the group meant not really being able to have that special someone, like the older ones could. It’s not like he could just talk to a girl - it just wasn’t in his nature at the moment. No matter how many times he performed on stage, or how many girls around the world would kill to have him - that didn’t erase the fact that he was nothing but an awkward goofball when it came to girls. 

Plus, who believes in love at first sight anyways? Just because they somehow managed to pull it off, doesn’t make it true. Jungkook was a dreamer, but lately he forced himself to think rationally when it came to love. It doesn’t just appear out of nowhere in the most convenient of times- 

“What the hell…” 

Stopping abruptly with his head in his hands, Jungkook suddenly felt dizzy. It was as if someone had thrown something at the back of his head, or he had too much to drink. Everything around him seemed…brighter. Colors seemed more colorful, smells were more apparent, his funky mood from earlier taking a turn for the better. Confused as to what might have triggered such a thing, he starts to look around - for anything that might have possibly caused such fatigue. 

It wasn’t until his eyes caught sight upon a young girl, traveling with her family with headphones in her ears. He didn’t understand what it was that made just looking at her hard to do, but he couldn’t help but to blush at her beauty. What was happening to him? 

As if she could feel his stare on her, the girl looks up from her phone and in his general direction. Once she actually does make eye contact, Jungkook could feel faint. His knees suddenly turned into jelly, the blush on his face on becoming worse - yet he couldn’t make himself look away. The girl looked around for a second, realizing that the cute guy from across the way was indeed looking at her. Taking one of her earbuds out, she decides to give him a little wave. 

The poor boy, not being ready for it, responded by allowing his mouth to hang open in awe. This seemed to amuse her even further as she quickly covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. Either he was losing his mind, or he could have sworn he could hear it in his head…Shaking his head rapidly, Jungkook clutches at his heart to help slow it down, not knowing how he got in this situation or how he planned on getting out. It wasn’t until she whispered something to her mother, that she finally decided to talk with the stranger. 

This definitely was the time to panic.

Not being able to move from his spot, he could only wait for the girl to approach him. A man, when she did, it was as if time altogether had stopped - no matter how cliche that might sound. 

“Um…hello. I noticed you um…kind of staring at me over here.” 

“You stared back,” He mentally kicked himself. “I-I mean uh…sorry uh…my English isn’t really that good…I uh…sorry. I leave now…” With his head hanging low, he tried his best to shuffle away. But, he wasn’t about to leave that easily. 

“Now, hold on a second. A handsome stranger, such as yourself, doesn’t get to just stare at me and then walk away.” 


“Ah, so you understood that?” She raises an eyebrow, grinning as he blushes even harder. 

“Still learning…you are v-very pretty…what’s your name?” 

Reaching toward him, she grips onto his hand, shaking it firmly. “Y/n. Y/n L/n. And yours?” 

“Jeon Jeongguk. Have you heard our group - BTS?” Thus was the start of their wonderful relationship. 

So much for not believing. 

|reaction masterlist|


“My Friends:

Some days it just stands on my chest like an elephant. My mind races and I run through the list of the “what if” and the “if I only could of”. I’m rational enough to know that there was nothing I could have done differently, but still the mind wanders and I beat myself up and I want to go back in time just enough to have a conversation.

I must have been wearing it on my face today. We were having chips and a margarita (I was having root beer) at perhaps the darkest, windowless bar I have ever been in and as we got up to leave the bartender threw out his hand and offered me condolences. That just doesn’t ever happen to me. Then tonight while I was walking the dog, a woman whom I’ve never seen before called me by name and said she had a t-shirt for me. She had been trying to figure out how she would get it to me and there I was wandering up the street with my furry son.

It was a day of connection with my Brother. Amy and I visited him at Hollywood Forever this morning. It’s become my weekly visit. I talk to him. And I cry. We brought him flowers and organized the flowers, notes, candles, medallions and photos that people from all over the world bring to him. It would make more sense to me if he were at rest in Seattle, but selfishly I am glad he’s close to me here in L.A.

We went home and looked through some old family photos and I thought maybe you’d like to see some of them. I find the more I share with all of you, the more I get out of my own head about all of this. Melding my grief and more importantly my healing, with you and yours, seems to lighten the load.

Check out the pictures. We were just regular kids. A regular family of jokesters and tattle tales. Pigtail pullers and ghost story tellers. There was never a time that we were the perfect family. Whose family is perfect? But we were our family. As siblings, we had a comfort with each other. That comfort never left us, even when we were in different corners of the planet with our own families and lives and dramas. Management and crew would be standing outside my Brother’s dressing room afraid to bother him and I would walk that familiar comfort right passed them and in through the door and give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek. I had an all access pass that I wore on my face and in my DNA. And that’s who we were. I will miss that forever. Forever!!

Please enjoy the photos as I have this afternoon. Thank you for allowing me into your grief, your healing and your worlds.


Peter Cornell, 9/23/17

Stiles- I’ll Stay

Requests-  Heyy, could you do an imagine where y/n is a young werewolf (like 15) and she moves to beacon Hillis, but before she can even go to school or something, she get cought by hunter and they torture her for information (she doesnt heal though). And by the time she’s saved by the sheriff, she completere shuts down, and doesnt talk to anyone, but when Stiles sneaks in to talk to her, she talks back, because she feels like she can trust him. Btw you’re very talented😊💕  /  Liam/Stiles request: Where the reader is friends with the pack and has a crush on (Liam/stiles) and there is a powerful thunderstorm one night and she is afraid. However,(stiles/Liam) knows she is scared of them. Reader would call them but doesn’t want to, she is lonely but then (stiles/Liam) end up comforting reader and fluff!! (Pick whichever) :) thank you!!!

A/N- So I picked Stiles for the last one, and I think I did a good job of tying these two requests together. I’ve got one more request in the inbox to write.

“What’s up, Parrish?” Stiles asked, giving the front desk a friendly slap as he sauntered past it.
“Stiles, your dad’s in the middle of something right now,” Parrish greeted him. “He said you could wait out here and not to go in his office.”
Stiles paused and pivoted on his heel, looking back at Parrish. The Deputy was typing away at his computer, his green eyes no longer focused on the younger boy, and he frowned.
He leaned down and grabbed the screen, causing Parrish to raise his eyebrows at him. “Stiles, can I help you?”
“What kind of something?”
Parrish fixed him with a look that told Stiles he knew exactly what he was trying to do. “Something.”
Stiles tilted his head and feigned a wounded look. “So this is how it’s gonna be.”
“You know you don’t actually work here, right?”
“Oh, that’s funny,” Stiles told him, scratching his chin. “That’s funny, considering me and Scott solve most of the cases that come through here.”
Parrish stared at him, obviously unimpressed. “Stiles, sit down.”
Stiles sighed, dramatic and loud, and stalked over to sit in one of the chairs across from the front desk. “Fine.”
No sooner had he dropped down than the door to his dad’s office opened, and he jumped up from his seat.
The Sheriff, who had been rubbing his head in his hands a second before, looked up. “Hey kid, I’m sorry about dinner. We’ve just got a lot going on right now.”
“Anything I can help with?” Stiles asked him.
Stilinski hesitated like he was considering it, but then said, “No.”
It was a split second of hesitation, but Stiles still caught it.
“Dad, come on,” he pleaded. “Is it something supernatural?”
“Keep your voice down,” his father hissed, pulling him closer. “Stiles, this doesn’t involve you.”
“But if I can help-”
His dad brought a hand to the back of his head, causing him to yelp. “Stiles, I said no.”
Stiles huffed. “Fine. Will you at least tell me if Scott can help?”
Stilinski pursed his lips. “Possibly. But she’s not talking right now, alright?”
“She?” Stiles asked, his interest piquing even more.
His dad glared at him, and looked toward the closed office door, but then he sighed.
“Clark responded to a call Downtown about an hour ago. A woman walking her dog heard a girl screaming from an abandoned house. Clark called out, heard someone running away, and when she finally got inside, she found a girl, lying on the ground. She was bloodied up and hurt, but when Clark tried to help her, she started to heal, and her eyes turned yellow.”
Stiles swallowed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s mostly healed,” the Sheriff told him quietly. “But she won’t say a word.”
“What?” Stiles asked. “Let me talk to her.”
“No,” his father told him firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“Then at least let me call Scott!”
“I’ll call Scott,” the Sheriff said. “For now, for the love of God, Stiles, just sit down.”
Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, glancing back at the office. “Fine. Fine, just call Scott.”
His father shot one last warning look at him before turning down the hall, and walking into an empty office to make the call. The minute he disappeared, Stiles glanced around the station carefully.
Parrish was still at his computer, typing away, and Clark was writing up a statement in the corner. The station was buzzing with officers refilling coffee or filling out paperwork, and no one seemed to take much notice of Stiles.
He slowly headed toward his dad’s office, shot one glance behind him to make sure no one was looking, and then slipped open the door.
He ducked inside, quickly shutting the door and nearly tripping on his own feet. He let out a relieved breath, and he heard a soft, weak laugh from behind him.
You probably wouldn’t have made a sound, if it hadn’t been for the way the boy had stumbled into the room. He was tall, brown-haired and seemed to have no grace or balance whatsoever.
Despite the terrible past couple of weeks and everything you had endured, you were relieved that you were still able to laugh about something. Then the guy whirled around at the sound, and you flinched back in your chair.
The Sheriff had left you there a few minutes ago, after he had given up trying to coax anything out of you. He seemed nice, but all anyone had done for weeks was press you for information, and even though you were safe now, you weren’t too keen on opening your mouth.
“Uh, hey,” the guy said. “Are you feeling okay?”
You didn’t answer, eyeing him carefully. He was wearing jeans and a tshirt, and from that display earlier, you knew he definitely wasn’t a cop.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, uh, I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to be afraid or anything. My dad-he’s the guy who just left-is just trying to help. He knows about everything. You know, the werewolves, and the hunters and stuff. So you don’t need to be scared.”
You were still just staring at him, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve also got this friend. His name’s Scott, and he’s an alpha-”
“No!” you yelled suddenly, tensing up.
“Wh-what?” Stiles choked, glancing over his shoulder in case anyone had heard you.
“No alpha!” you commanded. “I don’t want an alpha!”
“Okay, okay!” he whispered loudly. “Relax, I’ll just tell him to leave when he gets here.”
You eyed him suspiciously. “You will?”
“I will,” he told you. “I promise. But everyone out there…they’re really worried about you.”
You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, but Stiles kept talking. “The deputy who found you, Clark, she’s really concerned. She was hellbent on taking you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need a hospital,” you whispered, looking down at the wounds that had disappeared ages ago.
You picked at your blood-stained jeans and tried to avoid his eyes. They were sharp and curious, and you didn’t have the urge to be questioned and dissected like you were some sort of science project.
“I know that,” he continued. “And so does my dad. That’s why he told her no when she radioed in, but she’s still really worried.”
“She was nice,” you told him softly. “Tell her thank you?”
“You can tell her yourself if you want to,” Stiles told you gently.
Your frown deepened, and you shook your head. Stiles’ brow furrowed. “Is there a reason you’re not really talking? Are you afraid of someone?”
You shrugged, and he sighed and sat down on the couch across from you. He patted the spot next to him, and you raised your eyebrows at him.
“What?” he asked. “It’s more comfortable over here, just FYI. I can even switch with you if you want.”
You shook your head, and the boy simply shrugged and leaned back into the cushions.“I’m Stiles by the way.”
“Stiles?” you questioned.
He nodded. “Weird name, I know. But this is a pretty weird town.”
You nodded in agreement, and wrapped your arms around your knees. You were content to sit in silence, but Stiles let out a heavy breath. “God, I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
You shook your head again, but just as you did, your stomach growled in contradiction. Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”
You shook your head vigorously this time. You didn’t want him going out of his way for you. You didn’t even know him.
“What’s your name then?” he asked.
You glanced up, and he pursed his lips. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
You swallowed. “It’s Y/n. My name is Y/n.”
Stiles smiled, his lips twitching at the corners, and it occurred to you that you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often. “Pretty. Your name, I mean, not you. I mean, it’s not that you’re not pretty or anything. That’s not what I meant. You’re definitely pretty. Gorgeous, really, but, uh-”
You cut him off with another soft laugh. Your voice was hoarse and weak from screaming, but he could detect a hint of happiness in it. “I knew what you meant.”
“Oh,” Stiles said, his cheeks going red. “Right.”
“Your friend,” you whispered cautiously. “The alpha…what’s he like?”
“Pssh,” Stiles remarked. “He’s a dork, but he’s a good guy. Sometimes too good of a guy, but he’s strong too. He’s been through a lot. He’s done a lot for me…for this town.”
“Is he like you?”
“Do you mean ruggedly good-looking and charming?”
“No,” you told him plainly.
“You know, I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” he told you playfully.
You laughed and Stiles smiled. “You have a nice laugh.”
You blushed and leaned back in your chair, curling in on yourself. “I was just kidding before, you know. I like it when you talk.”
“I think you talk enough for the both of us,” you told him.
Stiles laughed once more. He had an infectious laugh, and soon you were giggling too. For the first time, it occurred to you that there was too much space between you and Stiles. You wanted to be close to him, to this boy who made you feel safe, even when a room full of police officers couldn’t.
That was when the door opened, and you flinched back as you saw the Sheriff walk in. He took one look at Stiles, and he swore he saw smoke coming out of his dad’s ears.
“Stiles,” he growled, grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him up.
“Wait, no dad-” he protested, but he was already being shoved out the door.
His dad slammed it in his face, and he was left standing there in the hall, with the eyes of the whole station on him. He sniffed, shifting at the pressure of the stares. “What are you looking at?”

Back in the office, you looked down at the floor.
“I’m sorry about that,” the Sheriff apologized to you. “My son is harmless, but he likes to stick his nose in things.”
You shook your head, not meeting his eyes. “He’s a good person.”
The Sheriff blinked, wide-eyed, and nearly dropped the mug of coffee he was holding. These were the first words he had heard you speak.
“He is,” he told you, his voice softening. “Did he talk to you?”
You smiled. “A lot.”
The Sheriff smiled, and slid down onto the sofa that Stiles had vacated. “He does that. Can’t get him to stop sometimes.”
You nodded, and the Sheriff sighed. “So, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to say to me would you?”
You shifted in your seat. “Stiles.”
The Sheriff blinked. “Sorry?”
“Stiles,” you repeated. “Please?”
His brow furrowed, fixing you with that same inquisitive look that Stiles had. He looks like his dad, you thought.
“Let me get this straight,” the Sheriff began. “You want my son in here? Are you sure?”
He was met with a vigorous nod, and then he slowly stood up and set his mug of coffee on his desk. “All right, but you asked for it.”
He walked over to the door of his office and pulled it open, only to have Stiles flop through the doorway and right onto his feet. The Sheriff glared at his son, who had obviously just had his ear pressed up against the door.
“H-hey, dad. Hey, Y/n. You two have a good talk?”
The Sheriff frowned. “Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“I’m cute though, right?” He asked hopefully. “Dad? Right?”
The Sheriff shot him a look. “Sit down, Stiles. If Y/n’s more comfortable with you in here, you can stay, but you’re going to be quiet.”
“Got it,” he told him, nodding rapidly.
He flopped down onto the couch and shot you a wink, as if the two of you were sharing some sort of inside joke. His father looked between the two of you, his brows furrowing, and then he held out his hand.
“You can sit on the couch if you want. It’s probably more comfortable than that chair.”
You nodded and looked over at Stiles, searching for confirmation. He shrugged and patted the seat beside him, and you quickly unwrapped your arms from around your knees.
Stiles smiled encouragingly as you sat down beside him, and the Sheriff took the chair you had abandoned. He pulled it a little closer, causing the legs to scrape against the floor, and you flinched.
“Alright,” he told you, sliding behind his desk. “Y/n, do you have a last name?”
You swallowed nervously and remained silent.
“You look pretty young,” he continued. “Is there anyone we can call? Parents, family maybe?”
You shook your head softly. They wouldn’t come if he called, so you didn’t see a point.
“Do you have a pack?” He asked. “Maybe an alpha who’s missing you?”
“No,” you told him firmly, your eye wild and terrified. “Not my alpha. He wasn’t…he wasn’t like Stiles’ friend.”
Stiles blinked, suddenly realizing why you had reacted the way you did when he brought it up earlier. Not every alpha was like Scott. Peter had been a prime example of that, and whatever you were running from, Stiles guessed your alpha was a part of it.
“I understand,” the Sheriff told you. “Are you sure there’s no one we can call?”
You thought for a moment, and felt tears pricking at your eyes. “No. I don’t…I don’t really have anyone.”
The Sheriff gave you a single, firm nod. “ Is there someone you were staying with? Someone in Beacon Hills?”
“No,” you whispered. “I…I ran from Sacramento. I don’t know anyone here.”
“You ran?” Stiles questioned, his eyes going wide. “Like, literally ran?”
“Stiles,” the Sheriff chided, shooting a sharp glare at his son. “Is that true, Y/n?
You came here on foot?”
You nodded. “Mostly. I took a bus when I got to Redding. I ended up here.”
“Why Beacon Hills?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. I…I couldn’t go on foot anymore, so I spent what I had left on a bus ticket. I didn’t have a lot of time, though, so I just picked the first place I saw on the board.”
“Beacon Hills.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “But they found me anyway.”
“Hunters. Two of them. I don’t know how they found me, but I think they were
watching my alpha. And when I tried to run from him…I guess they saw me as an easy target.”
“You were running from your alpha?” the Sheriff asked.
You closed your eyes and nodded, trying to fight the nausea building in your stomach at the thought of him. You remembered the blood, and the pain of the bite, and the things he had done to you that were much worse.
Your family hadn’t understood. They screamed when you tried to show them what was happening, and after that, you knew there was no way you could go to anyone else you knew. After they tossed you out on the street, you hadn’t seen paying a visit to your alpha as an option, and it dawned on you that you didn’t really have any other choice.
Going to him had been a mistake, not only because he tried to hurt you, but when you ran, you caught the attention of someone just as deadly. You managed to escape the hunter and his buddy on foot, and you were running for a week before you finally hopped on that bus to Beacon Hills.
What you didn’t realize was that you hadn’t totally lost them, and the minute you stepped off the bus, they were waiting for you at the station.
“Is he still after you?” Stiles’ father asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
“No,” you said, thinking back to your alpha. “I don’t think he cares enough.”
“And these hunters?”
“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “They looked young, and they seemed like they didn’t really know what they were doing.”
Stiles scoffed. “They knew enough to torture you.”
Stilinski shot a glare at his son, and you cast your eyes to the floor. When you looked back up, Stiles was staring at you with a grimace on his face. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.
“I don’t know if they’re coming back,” you whispered softly. “If they do…”
“We’ll be right here,” Stiles swore, and for once, his father didn’t scold him. “My friend Scott…he’s not going to let anything happen to you. And neither will I.”
You looked over at the Sheriff questioningly, but he flashed you an encouraging smile. “He’s right, Y/n.”
“But you don’t even know me,” you pointed out softly.
The Sheriff shook his head. “Doesn’t mean a thing. We’re here to protect you. If these men come back for you, they’ll have to go through us.”
You stared at them in disbelief, unable to comprehend how a pair of strangers who had known you for less than an hour were prepared to protect you, even when your own family had tossed you out. The words came out broken and thick, but you felt the need to say them anyway, and you just barely managed to get out the “Thank you.” without bursting into tears.
You put your head in your hands as they started to stream down your face, and Stiles reached out to place a comforting hand on your back.
“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you heard the Sheriff say. “We’ll find an officer for you to stay with tonight. Maybe Parrish-”
“She can stay with us.”
You picked your head up, glancing over at Stiles in surprise.
“What?” he asked, his gaze moving from your shocked face, to his dad’s. “It’s not like we don’t have a couch, and she’s already comfortable around us…you’re comfortable, right?”
You nodded slowly, carefully peeking over at the Sheriff’s face. It was scrunched in thought, but he didn’t seem to be shooting the idea down right away.
“See?” Stiles continued. “If she wants to stay, can she?”
“Do you want to?” he blurted. “You wouldn’t have your own room, but the couch is soft. Or you could take my bed, and Scott could come over and meet you if you’re okay with it, and you wouldn’t have to worry about-”
“Yes,” you blurted, cutting off his rambling. “If…if it’s okay…”
The Sheriff sighed. “Well, we’ve had much worse in that house, and I can’t think of a reason not to…but it might only be temporary. I don’t want to disappoint you, Y/n.”
You shook your head, a soft, sad smile curling at your lips. “It’ll take a lot more than that to disappoint me, Sheriff.”
He nodded. “Well, guess I can’t say no to that.”
You let out a shocked breath, because there was still some part of you that wasn’t able to believe a complete stranger would ever show you this much kindness. “Thank you.”
Your voice was tight and thick, and you sounded a bit like you had swallowed a bug, but you still wanted to tell them. The Sheriff and Stiles had no idea how your own family had thrown you out when they realized what you were. They had only heard bits and pieces of your story, and they didn’t even know who you were, yet they were offering to take you in.
“You might as well grab your things,” he told you, gesturing to your backpack on the floor. “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out here, but Stiles can take you home.”
Home. The word resonated through you, making your chest ache. You took a breath to steady yourself and walked over to grab your bag, which was resting close to Stiles’ feet. As you reached down to grab it, he held out a hand to stop you.
“I got it,” he assured you, scooping it up with one arm.
“I can carry it,” you said quietly, but he only waved you off.
“It’s one bag. Besides, I’m not that much of a wimp. All this running for my life has really gotten me into shape.”
You bit your lip to keep from smiling, and clasped your hands together.
“You ready to go?” Stiles asked.
You nodded, and took a few steps closer to the Sheriff. “Thank you for this. Thank
you so much.”
He blinked in shock as you wound your arms around his middle, but he quickly recovered and gave you a tight squeeze back. “Don’t worry, Y/n. You’re safe with Stiles.”
You nodded and pulled away, and followed Stiles toward the door of the office. Your stomach rumbled just Stiles opened it up, and just as Stilinski called out to him.
“Make up the couch for her, alright?”
“Got it, dad!”
“And Stiles?”
“Please get this girl something to eat.”
“Of course,” he told him, turning around to shoot a look at his father. “I’m not a
You laughed to yourself as Stiles led you out, and several officers looked up from what they were doing and stared. You froze at the pressure of their eyes on you, and wished more than anything they would go back to their paperwork.
Your clothes were still ripped and covered in blood, and you must have looked like hell with your lack of sleep and wild eyes. At first, your only sense of comfort was the smile Officer Clark offered you. She was the only one not staring at you like you were some kind of headcase, at least until you felt someone slip their hand into yours.
You glanced over to find Stiles smiling down at you, encouragement on his face. He was looking at you like he thought you might bolt, but he had no reason to be worried. With his hand in yours, you never would have thought of running.
You squeezed his fingers, set your shoulders, and started to walk toward the door again. A proud grin crossed Stiles’ face, and to your surprise, he didn’t let go of your hand.
“So,” he said simply. “You up for some chicken nuggets?”

Stiles rolled over in the darkness, listening to the soft drumming of rain against the roof. Every so often, lightning would flash through the room, illuminating the greyish-blue walls, and shortly after, thunder would rumble throughout the house.
The skies seemed to be going to war outside, and no matter how deep he burrowed into his covers, Stiles couldn’t seem to drown out the noise enough to sleep. He knew you must have been having trouble too, considering you had the hearing of a bat, and he finally gave up on tuning out the storm and shoved his covers off.
He hopped out of bed and headed down the hall to your room, which had been converted from the Sheriff’s home office a couple weeks ago. Originally his dad had only promised your stay to be a temporary thing, but as you got to know each other, he had a change of heart.
You started going to school with Stiles and his friends only a few weeks ago, but you had already grown to love Scott and Lydia, and Malia seemed to be permanently attached to your side. You were still shy, and Malia had no problem with promising to break the legs of anyone who even considered messing with you.
She was brash and wild, and everything you weren’t, but she was quickly turning into your best friend.
Stiles was proud that you were already fitting in so well, even though you were still dealing with a lot. The nightmares had started the first night you were there, and you often woke Stiles and the Sheriff (when he was home) in the middle of the night.
You apologized profusely, and you were usually glad for the Sheriff’s frequent night shifts, because that was one less person you were bothering. Stiles told you all the time they didn’t see it like that, but it was still hard not to feel insecure.
Stiles was doing everything he could to make you feel welcome, but as he headed down the hall he worried that it might not be enough. Another wave of thunder cracked through the sky, but underneath the rumbling, he could hear something else.
They were quiet and soft, but Stiles recognized the sound of sobs coming from your room. His heart sped up and he immediately darted forward, yanking open your door just as thunder crashed again.
As he entered your room, you jumped, and he couldn’t tell if it was him or the thunder that had startled you. He looked closer and realized you were shaking, and huddled next to your bed on the floor.
Your arms were wrapped around your sides, and when Stiles met your eyes you had the same look that he had seen in them when he first met you; wild and terrified.
He breathed your name, and the sound of it coming off of his lips washed over you like a wave. You reached for him in the darkness, your outstretched fingers illuminated by the lightning.
Stiles instantly dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmured, over and over in your ear.
“It’s so loud,” you whispered, still trembling against him. “I-I can practically feel it.”
You had only been a werewolf for a little over a month, and you were still struggling with all the physical changes. Loud noises particularly bothered you, and Stiles could have kicked himself for not coming to check on you sooner.
“We can call Scott,” he offered softly.
“No,” you whispered hoarsely. “Please just-just stay?”
“I’ll stay,” he promised, running his hand over your hair. “I’ll stay.”
You burrowed into him, knowing that your tears were staining his t-shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. He simply held you there and murmured to you through the storm, promising you that everything would work out.
When it was finally over, it was well into the early morning, and Stiles’ shirt was soaked through with your tears. You peeled yourself away from him, and wiped your wet cheeks.
“You alright?” He asked softly
You nodded, but your face was red from tears and shame. Stiles noticed you weren’t meeting his eyes, and he eventually crawled across the carpet to rest by your side.
“You know I totally get this, right?”
You frowned, and wrapped your arms around your knees. “I can’t even make it through a storm without breaking down into a sobbing mess, Stiles.”
Stiles shrugged, his shoulder bumping against yours. “It’s a werewolf thing. I’ve seen worse.”
“Oh yeah?” You challenged. “Like what?”
“Well, Scott almost put a hole in his wall with my face once on a full moon. And then I had to handcuff him to a radiator…”
“Handcuff him?” You asked. “Did that even work?”
“Nope,” he told you. “He got out, so trust me, this isn’t that bad.”
“Huh. I guess not.”
“You must be exhausted,” he noticed. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
You shook your head, and he sighed, rising to his feet. You followed him and sat down on your bed, but instead of leaving, he just stood there.
“Is there something else you wanted to say?”
“What? Oh, uh…no. No, I guess not.”
He scratched his neck and looked toward the door, and then back to you. You tilted your head.
“Stiles…do you wanna sleep in here tonight?”
“It’d make me feel better if I did.”
“Why?” You asked quietly.
“Just in case you need me.”
You felt a warm, cozy feeling spread over you, and your lips turned up ever so slightly.
“It’d make me feel better too.”
Stiles nodded eagerly, and as you shimmied under your covers, he followed you into bed. He stayed respectively on his side, but he rolled over to look at you as you settled in.
Eventually, you decided you didn’t like the space between the two of you, and you scooted closer. Stiles didn’t like it anymore than you did, and he followed suit until he was only a few inches away.
“Stiles?” You whispered. “Can you hold me again?”
A weak noise came from the back of his throat, but he quickly reached out to wrap his arms around you once more. You snuggled into him and closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth.
He reached out tentatively to stroke your hair, and you sighed against his chest. His eyes closed soon after yours, but he remained awake for a few extra moments, listening to your breathing slow down.
When he finally fell asleep, he did it with you still nestled in his arms, and a smile on his face. It had been only a few weeks since you had turned up in the station, but Stiles felt like you had been there for much longer. You said once that you there was no  real reason you had ended up in Beacon Hills, that you had just hopped on the first but you saw, but he didn’t entirely believe that.
There was some reason you ended up here, that you had ended up with him. He was sure of it, and if was being honest, he didn’t care what it was. All that mattered to him was that you were here, and whether it was god, or nature, or the universe that did it, he thanked them for whatever had brought you to Beacon Hills.


Before I worked in benefits in the DSD, they had me in the fraudulent claims department. People who said their family members departed so they could get a check. My beat was secondary departures. I got assigned this woman. She and her husband used to walk their dog together every morning. It was about a year and a half after the 14th. And as they’re walking out the front door, the phone rings. So she goes back inside and she picks it up. Talks for like 30 seconds and hangs up. When she steps back outside, there’s the dog, leash just lying on the ground, husband’s gone. So the logical explanation is that he went where 140 million other people went… Into thin air. I found that fucker in Puerto Rico. He was careful. He made small withdrawals from their bank account for six months so he could build a nest egg, and then he just chose his moment and he ran. Why? Because he had the greatest scapegoat in the history of civilization.


Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk

I’m a woman’s man no time to talk

lol, you guys asked for it and i’m a sucker so here. mj’s perspective/part two for the soulmate au. part one here.

couple quick things: thanks to @jedistardust for telling me about the spanish language so i won’t disappoint my grandma. thanks to @spideyxchelle for not so politely requesting a part 2. also, i tag @spideychelle-romanogers bc she is my adorable wife.

  • when a thirteen year old mj woke up one morning and saw her words had etched themselves in a messy scrawl onto her upper right bicep, she was, and she will only admit this once, a little excited
  • but then she actually reads the words and any excitement or hope she had dies
  • mj had always been iffy about the whole…soulmate…thing
  • her parents got divorced and they were supposed to be soulmates. she’d watched them fight from the time she was four until she was eleven. they kept trying to make it work because they were soulmates but they couldn’t stand each other
  • so mj promised herself that no person, not even your soulmate, was worth giving up your own happiness
  • but when her parents finalized the divorce when she was eleven, a part of her dreamed that she’d find someone who loved and supported her and didn’t drive her up the wall
  • and then she learns the first words her soulmate will say to her are “you’ve got to be kidding me.
  • and that decides it
  • this whole soulmate business is bullshit and she won’t care. she’ll hear the words, maybe slap her soulmate, maybe ignore them and their pleas to give them a chance
  • because anyone who is disappointed that she’s their soulmate can go fuck off and she doesn’t need them anyway

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Now that the ask box is open again, I want to ask if you do soulmate AU's? If so, could you write an AU that you have the first words your soulmate says to you printed on your wrist. And that the words Tsukishima has on his wrists is something really negative. How he would react when he would hear his soulmate say those words. (Is this understandable? I feel like this was really confusing)

A) Soulmate AU’s are the reason I’m alive
B) Get ready for insecure Tsukishima Kei because that’s how I write this nut + this fits so perfectly for my headcanons of him I’m bawling y’all

Golden, silky cursive down the muscle on his wrist. It would’ve been so beautiful, if not for the words they said.

“You’re a failure.”

Words appeared during puberty, the peak of your hormonal blossoming. They started out faded, barely noticeable, and as time progressed, they became bold, powerful, the center of every pubescent teens sad, hopeful life. The very moment the faded gold ink first began to bleed into him at thirteen years old, Tsukishima Kei already knew he was beyond fucked. At thirteen years old he was lost, Jean Louise Finch in “To Set A Watchman”, discovering the bitter, cold truth. At thirteen years old he wasn’t ready for love, the only love he ever had washed down in the drain along with any jubilance he had left. At thirteen years old with the constant reminder of absolute pessimism lingering on his wrist while other boys fawned over sweet subliminal messages of infatuation, Tsukishima Kei lost himself more.

At fourteen years old he ripped himself apart. The gold ink that bled into his pale, scar shaven skin was still prominent, becoming brighter each time the flesh was bruised. He tried, he really did, to make himself the image of perfection. Knowing that one day, the person who he was to be tied to for eternity would think of him as a failure was just another weight onto his already collapsing being. Yamaguchi hit puberty later than he did, he peaked right after the first semester of their third year of middle school, and as he began to grow, the turquoise tangent on his wrist grew too. “Don’t be upset, I could name one hundred things I admire about you” it read, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder how Yamaguchi managed to be so fatefully tied to a woman of wisdom while he was anchored to a pit of pessimism.

When he was fifteen years old, he couldn’t take it anymore. When high school came, the hype of soulmates did nothing but erupt even more. Outside of volleyball, the only thing his volleyball team ever seemed to talk about was soulmates. Beautiful, funny statements in soft purples and reds and blues, they were all so lively yet Kei couldn’t wonder how his statement out of all of them was colored bright gold. As the year went on he grew tired, the eerie message doing nothing but causing him grief. He couldn’t help but dread recalling midterms, when all that went through his mind when he was studying is the cute gold calligraphy of ‘failure’. Yamaguchi found his soulmate, a lively one from a rival school, a kind, wise hearted soul just like Yamaguchi always dreamed. His friends, or acquaintances, as he liked to put it, we’re falling in love and finding themselves left and right, and by the time spring arrived and every first year on the team found his soulmate, even standoffish Kageyama who couldn’t talk to a female for his life, he drew the conclusion that he might as well be alone forever. That thought was ridiculous though, he knew it. He still had well over seventy years of his life left, and six years left of education, so not finding his soulmate in his first year of highschool would definitely not render him lonely. Although, he felt like it. He felt alone, and it made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like a failure just like those bloody golden words on his wrist prophesied.

He drove himself to move away at nineteen. He hadn’t found anything in his eighteen years in Japan and he hoped, and prayed there would be something for him beyond the borders of the familiar. So, he set off for Cornell, an Ivy League college in America. It was risky, it really was, even if he was the top of his English class. They had a good multicultural scene over there, he was told, and for some reason, that just dragged him in further. His wanderlust grew and grew the more and more he looked around into the vast world in front of him and by the time he was already settled into Cornell, he just wanted to pack his bags and travel somewhere else again. He couldn’t though, at least not until junior year. Cornell was treating him nice, a cosy establishment in the middle of nowhere and honestly, it reminded him a bit of home. If you traveled to the highest point on campus all you could see was miles of rolling hills and maple trees, crows flocking through the air at the break of dawn and the familiar chill down his spine in the winter. Although through it all, he still hadn’t met his soulmate. His brother encouraged him to still have hope through it all.
“I didn’t find my soulmate until senior year, you still have time!” He would say, but Kei would just shake his head.

He was in his junior year of college and he was presented with an opportunity of international education, an opportunity every college student hoped and prayed to have. He was going to Copenhagen, and he knew exactly why. Out of 196 countries and tens of thousands of cities, he chose Copenhagen, the heart of a freezing Nordic wonderland. It was said to be the happiest place on earth and to be frank, there was nothing Tsukishima needed in his life more than an optimistic habitat. So, as soon as the second semester came, he didn’t waste a minute hopping onto that plane.

At first, Copenhagen was weird.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just unfamiliar. It was far too optimistic, streets lined with bars and old woman walking dogs, college students in beanies smoking weed on apartment balconies. Everyone carried an “I don’t give a shit” vibe and just as Tsukishima thought he would maybe, finally meet his soulmate, he was shut down. Everyone in this city seemed to be far too nice to utter such a thing as the thing on his wrist. He was ready to give up.

It was Friday morning and Tsukishima wanted to die. His roommate was already up, playing loud, headache inducing music from his side of the dorm. As much as he’d hate to admit, he got himself drunk last night, well really, his roommate got him drunk last night, it was the bastards idea to buy three crates of beer for a small frat party. He sat up in bed and groaned, not even attempting to hold back his displeasure.
“I didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight, Kei.” His roommate snorted, turning off his music to slump next to Tsukishima’s bed frame. “You want a water or something, buddy?”
“Don’t call me a fucking lightweight, I had eight beers.” He rubbed his eyes harshly, not sure if the stars he saw were from the rubbing or the alcohol that still lingered in his system. “But yeah, the water would be nice. Thank you.”
Tsukishima really hated himself in that moment. He was never one to be late for classes, never one to drink on a school night. Tsukishima Kei was never, not once in his life, ten minutes late for an eight o'clock class on the other side of campus. Although today, he broke the lucky streak.
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered to himself, mustering up all his willpower to get out of his bed. His knees wobbled underneath him as he wasted no time getting dressed, chugging an entire water bottle in second, and throwing the empty container right back at his roommate.
“Don’t pee yourself out there, dumbass!”
“Fuck off, Mathias.” Was his reply, slamming the door behind him and immediately regretting his decisions from right now and the night before. Everything hurt, absolutely ached, and he began to wonder if perfect attendance was really worth the torture he was sure to endure in the next two hours. He pushed himself though, because skipping out would just mean that he was a failure.

By the time he arrived he was thirty minutes late. People were gawking at him, obviously taking notice of how he looked like an absolute wreck. He knew his eyebags had to be atrocious, but he was hoping and praying that he didn’t look like the walking dead. He took a quick seat in the back of the room, hoping that once he sat down people would lose interest and forget him. They did, one or two students still making nasty remarks a few rows in front of him. If he hadn’t cared so much about his reputation (and his mother’s money) he would’ve thrown his textbook at the back of their heads. The girl next to him fidgeted, scooting down the bench slightly to get away from him. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable, and part of him wanted to feel a bit guilty for her. He probably still smelled like alcohol, he thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He snorted, once he caught her eye and got his things situated. Tsukishima didn’t know why he thought a self deprecating joke would lighten the mood, for her eyes just widened and looked down at the laptop in front of her.
“Oh, sure, you’re a failure.” She commented back, her sarcasm blatantly evident. She pointed towards a pile of papers on her desk and said something else, but Tsukishima had short circuited far too long ago to process the words she said next.
His whole life was a misconception. Six years of acceptance and self consciousness all derived from one, big, misconception. She was the one to bring the words on her wrist to his attention. Small, blocky orange writing stating “I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He still couldn’t process words, his wrist feeling as if it were burning. His gut was roiling and he absolutely couldn’t believe the horrendous irony this situation reeked with. The professor kept talking, droning away about the history of a long dead African tribe, but he didn’t care.
“I don’t think you realize how much these words have made me hate myself these past few years.” he muttered into her ear, breath shaky and languid from the adrenaline rush he experienced.
“I don’t think you know how worried I’ve been for you these past few years.” She replied, her fingers absentmindedly running over her wrist. “I thought I’d meet you on a bridge.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well, I thought I would.” She shrugged, nudging his hip and motioning him to collect his things.
“Let’s get out of here.” She implied, already shoving her laptop back into her purse.
“But I just got here.” He argued.
“But I just met my soulmate. C’mon, nobody’s going to think you’re a failure.”

anonymous asked:

So we got a complaint through a post-purchase survey where a woman was rightfully angry. My coworker waited until woman walked away a moment to trick her 6 year old into eating a dog cookie by saying it was a people cookie. The woman came back and the coworker made fun of the child, to which the child became upset and worried that they would be sick from eating a dog cookie. The coworker goes "We get kids to do it all the time, no one's died yet!" No one else has ever done this to a kid.


The West Mesa Bone Collector

The ‘West Mesa Bone Collector’ is the unofficial moniker given to an unidentified serial killer in Albuquerque, New Mexico, who is believed to have murdered at least eleven women between 2001-2005.

The case was first discovered by police when a woman walking her dog found a human thigh bone in metropolitan West Mesa on February 2, 2009. A forensic team examined the bone and went to the isolated spot where it was initially found; they quickly unearthed the skeletal remains of eleven women and a foetus, all of whom appeared to have died by homicidal means. Since the dead women all shared similar ethnicities and backgrounds, it is likely that the women were victims of a serial killer.

Once they were identified, it was discovered the West Mesa victims were mainly of Hispanic/Spanish descent, most were in their early-to-mid twenties, and most of them were prostitutes and/or addicted to drugs. Police noted their disappearances tended to coincide with the popular Annual State Fair, an event that attracts a lot of prostitutes and sex workers to the area. Investigators currently believe the 'Bone Collector’ was active for only four years in the West Mesa area, though he could have operated as a serial killer elsewhere.

Although several persons of interest have been questioned about the case, no official suspect has ever been named as the Bone Collector. Police aren’t even sure of the Collector’s true victim count; eleven victims have been ascribed to him so far, though its highly likely that he has killed more women and dumped their bodies elsewhere. Until there is a breakthrough in this perplexing case, its likely the West Mesa Bone Collector will never be brought to justice.

Daaaad - INFJ & INTP
  • INFJ: *is INTP's dad*
  • INTP: *crossing the road with a suitcase in tow*
  • INFJ: Careful! There's a thingy!
  • INTP: ...?
  • INFJ: *motions toward pile of dog shit*
  • INTP: *snickers* Really? A "thingy"?
  • INFJ: *looks straight ahead at woman*
  • Woman: *walks by with a dog*
  • INFJ: *waits until she's gone*
  • INFJ: *leans over to INTP's ear*
  • INFJ: *confidential whisper*
  • INFJ: ...it's ...
  • INFJ: ...the thingy-maker.
Creepypasta #1151: May I Pet Your Dog?

Length: Medium

When I was a child, every time we went to the park and someone had a dog with them, I would want to pet it myself.

I understood very well how it worked. You politely ask the owner if you may pet the dog. If they say yes, you stick your hand out and allow the dog to smell it. If the dog approves, go ahead and pet it.

Not all owners were approving of their dogs being pet by a strange kid, and not all dogs were friendly. But the majority of the dogs and owners I met approved, and I always held those moments of making a (temporary) new friend in high regard. In fact, there were several dogs that were recurring visitors to the park and I had met on a regular basis, like Chip the wire-haired Dachshund, Hal the German shepherd, and Fritz the golden retriever.

I remember one cloudy summer day, we had the park to ourselves. I was spinning around the soccer field to see how dizzy I could get before I fell to the ground. I got up after the fourth or fifth time, and noticed an old woman walking a large dog along a paved path in the distance.

In hindsight, I’m not sure if the animal she had with her even was a dog. It was very large, larger than any Saint Bernard or mastiff I had ever seen. It had coarse black fur, a hunched back like a hyena, long thin legs with tan stripes, tall pointed ears, and very long jaws. But back then, any large animal on a leash was a dog, at least in my eyes.

I ran to my parents and pointed to the big dog over there, asking them if I could pet it. As soon as my dad saw the huge animal, his face turned cold. I could see his hands shaking. Then he turned to me.

“No,” he said with a stern look. “Stay away from it.”

My mom looked at Dad confused. As soon as she turned her head and saw the large dog as well, though, she gained the same cold expression.

“Your father’s right,” she said. “Don’t go near that dog.”

I wondered why they said that. Usually they were perfectly fine with me petting people’s dogs as long as the owner was alright with it and the dog was friendly. What was it about that particular dog that made my parents so afraid like that?

A few weeks passed. One day, we were once again alone at the park. This time, it was just me and my dad. I was playing in the sandbox when I suddenly heard a creaky and scratchy voice calling me.

“Little boy! Over here!”

Keep reading

Jon x Sansa AU for Day 3: Gifts in @jonsa-creatives

Jon walked over to her. “You…know my dog?”

The woman looked up at him with wide eyes, and then she laughed. “So you’re Jon!” she said, standing up. “I’m Sansa, I’ve been walking Ghost.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to widen his eyes. “You’re Sansa?” He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting–someone younger, perhaps, in sweats and t-shirts. Not this elegant woman in a slinky silver dress.

She smiled. “Yeah. Painting isn’t always financially steady, so I take on odd jobs, like walking dogs.”

Jon still had trouble imagining this woman as a dog walker. “So…you paint? Is your work here?”

She gestured to the flower paintings he’d been admiring. “It’s a series. Femininity through flowers.”

“These are amazing,” he said honestly. “They’re, uh, almost as good as your cartoons.”

Sansa laughed. “I don’t draw a lot of cartoons anymore, but with Ghost, I had to make an exception.”

Jon remembered the comic book in his bag. “Speaking of, I got you a little something.” He reached into his bag and handed her the comic book. “Just…a little something to say thank you.”

Inspired by @jeynegrey’s mini fic