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.

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.

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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.

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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

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.
“Dad!”
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.”
“Who?”
“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?”
“Stiles-”
“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?”
“Yeah?”
“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
heathen.”
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.
“Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“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.

2

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.

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:

After nightmare cuddles with tsukkiyama? (•ω•)

Okay, so you probably were expecting some cute fluffy cuddles or something. While there are some cute and fluffy cuddles, it got dark. Real dark. Oops.

WARNING: MINOR CHARACTER DEATH

Kei was less than pleased with the current situation. Sure, he was skeptical about the whole idea of a team trip to the coast, but now that he was actually here, he knew this was going to be a headache. The ride was quiet, most of his teammates sleeping a majority of the way. Now that they had arrived, they were suddenly all full of energy, and it was a bit annoying. 

“What are we going to do first? We could play beach volleyball, or go swim in the ocean, or go on a hike, or build sandcastles, or-” Hinata rambled on excitedly as everyone finished arranging their stuff in the large, open room they were staying in. 

“You’re free to do whatever until dinner, then we’ll come back and do some team bonding exercises,” Suga announced, turning to face the team. “So just make sure to meet back here around 6.”

“What do you wanna do Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked him. He shrugged in response, listening in to what everyone else was doing. Tanaka, Noya, Hinata and Kageyama were going to play 2v2 beach volleyball, Shimizu and Yachi were going to walk along the beach, Suga, Daichi, and Asahi were going to check out all of the little beach shops, and Ennoshita, Narita, and Kinoshita were going to play cards on the deck. 

“You can stay here with Ennoshita,” Kei decided, looking over at Yamaguchi. He could tell that was what Yamaguchi wanted to do, but he never would if Kei didn’t. “I think I’m just going to go on a walk.”

“Are you sure? I can go with you,” he insisted, looking back at him. Kei just shook his head.

“I’ll be fine, it will be nice to just be on my own for a bit,” he admitted, grabbing his phone and sliding his shoes on. 

“Okay, be careful!” Yamaguchi called as Kei left the cabin. He lifted his hand slightly and walked out the door, turning left and walking up to the street. 

It was a rather nice day, the sun was shining and the clouds were scarce. There was one road that ran along the beach, the south end leading to the row of shops and the north end leading into the forest. Kei decided to go north, walking along the tree lined road. There weren’t a lot of people out, an occasional car or person went by, but it was mainly just Kei and his thoughts. 

After about an hour of mindlessly wandering, he noticed a woman walking her dog across the street. She seemed to be having some trouble, her dog was running ahead of her, pulling harshly on the leash. In one swift movement, the dog tugged the leash from her hand and ran across the street towards him. 

“Shepard no!” she yelled rushing across the street towards him. At the very moment she stepped off the curb, a car rounded the corner, and she never made it to the other side of the road. 

Kei felt his blood run cold; what did he just witness? He stood there completely frozen, watching the car skid to the side and the man run out, looking around frantically.

“What do I do?” he yelled frantically when he noticed Kei. Being addressed pulled him back into the present, and he rushed across the street to help.

“Call an ambulance,” he instructed as he knelt next to the woman. She was flat on her back, laying in a quickly growing pool of blood. “Can you hear me?” he asked her, looking for any sign that she could. When he didn’t see any movement, he began to slowly panic. He carefully lifted her head onto his lap and looked down at her face, the only thing he could do was try and keep her conscious until help arrived.  

“Hey, look at me, okay. Keep your eyes open and keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes, just look at me,” he instructed, more for himself than for her. Her eyes were still open, but the color was slowly fading. Something inside of him knew that there was nothing left to do, yet he couldn’t give up. He could hear the sirens in the distance, but everything just seemed so far away. He focused on the woman below him, her breathing getting shallow and her eyes dulling. Kei lightly grabbed her hands and just held them, hoping to bring her at least some comfort. Even after he felt her still, he didn’t let go until the paramedics got there.

The woman was pronounced dead on the scene, and after giving a statement to the cops, Kei was given a ride back to the cabin. As he got out of the cop car and walked down to the building, he saw his team all hanging out next to a fire roasting various food items. He tried to sneak into the cabin without being seen, but of course Yamaguchi noticed him.

“Tsukki, you’re la-” he began, his voice faltering after getting a good look at the other boy. Kei didn’t need a mirror to know he looked like shit, his clothes were covered in blood and he was pretty sure his face showed just how tired he was.

“Tsukishima, what on earth happened?” Suga asked, rushing over to him. Kei flinched slightly, he really didn’t want to talk to anybody right now.

“It’s not my blood,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’m going to go clean up and go to bed. I’ll see you guys later.” With that, he turned and entered the cabin, glad that nobody asked any more questions. He took a nice long shower, cleaning all of the blood off of his body, and threw away his clothes. Even if the stain did come out, he didn’t want any physical evidence of the events of that day. He set up his futon in the far corner of the room and curled up, wishing for sleep to take him quickly. Luckily for him, it did.

He was standing on the side of the road, another person across the street with a dog. In a split second, the dog was next to him and the other person was stepping into the street. The car rounded the corner and hit the person, sending them flying down the road. The car skidded to the side and a man jumped out, looking over at Kei with wide eyes.

“What do I do?” the man asked, his voice frantic.

“Call an ambulance,” Kei responded, rushing over to the injured person. He knelt down next to them and screamed.

It was Yamaguchi.

Kei bolted up, looking around the dark room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Yamaguchi sleeping peacefully in a futon next to him, safe and not laying in a pool of his own blood. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to even his breathing. He leaned his back against the wall, just watching all of his teammates sleep. It calmed him down, seeing all of them safe and peaceful. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before Yamaguchi spoke up.

“Kei,” he whispered, worry in his voice. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Kei responded, hugging his knees against his chest.

“We saw the news story…I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he apologized, propping himself up on his elbow.

“She died in my arms,” he muttered, his eyes staring blankly at the ground.

“You don’t have to talk about if you aren’t ready,” Yamaguchi told him, looking into his eyes.

“I’m just so drained,” Kei whispered, trying to avoid Yamaguchi’s gaze.

“But you can’t sleep,” he guessed, earning a nod from the taller boy. Yamaguchi grinned shyly and pushed himself out of his futon, moving over to Kei’s.

“Tadashi…” Kei began, looking down at him. Yamaguchi smiled and patted the spot next to him.

“You always used to do it when I had nightmares,” he shrugged, pulling Kei’s arm until he was laying next to him. Yamaguchi grinned and snuggled into his chest, instant warmth engulfing Kei. He wrapped his arms around Yamaguchi, holding him tight.

Yamaguchi was here, in his arms, safe and sound.

So I use to work as a vet assistant in a clinic for about 3 months. The whole place was a shit show, but this story is about a specific customer/client. So it’s a regular day, we just got done our hour lunch and our appointments are about to get started for the rest of the afternoon/evening. The first person on the schedule is a “run in back” blood draw. As the name sounds, the animal is taken from the waiting room, “run in the back” to perform the treatment, and then returned to the owner in the waiting room. These appointments are scheduled that way and customers are throughly notified the way it will work before they agree to the appt. So I go out to the waiting room and see the woman and her dog. I call the dog’s name, walk up to the woman and say, “ Hello, I can take *insert dog’s name” in the back for her blood draw and she will be back shortly. The woman gets huffy and says, I want to come back while she gets weighed. Well fine, if she wants to come in the exam room while she gets weighed, I don’t care, but then she has to wait there while we perform the treatment in the back. So we go in, weigh her and then I repeat, “ I will now take *insert dogs name” back for her blood work. The woman gets mad and says “why? Why can’t I come back with her, I want to be there!” Now I understand, it’s her pet, so she wants to be involved, but as our policy, no owners are to be in the treatment area. This keeps us and the animals safe and efficient. So I explain this to her and she gets even more mad and just keeps asking me over and over “why!”. Now I hate confrontation so I am getting upset and emotional. I tell her that she should have been informed about this policy when making the appointment but she swears she did not. I doubt that. Finally she just gives up and lets me take her dog. The bloodwork literally takes 2 minutes and I go to the waiting room to return the dog. I tell her, if she would like to wait, the results will be ready in 15 mins. I go in the back. Then I was told by the receptionists that she stormed out without paying. Our receptionist calls her, and she cusses her out (thinking it’s me) and calls her a fat piece of shit.

We tell our clinic manager this whole story, to which she is baffled because the woman has been coming in with her dog for “run in back” appointments for months and has never made a fuss. The clinic manager calls this woman, and the woman swears up and down that none of that happened, and then my clinic manager gives her a fucking discount. Wow, I hated that stupid place.

i’m glad that i don’t really get involved in fandoms anymore (aside from writing anyway)

Things people won’t tell you: cats aren’t always as cute as people say they are, learning to drive is much more fun when you don’t have an actual car and can bum rides from a friend, and high school is a bitch when you’re an honor’s student.

Pidge was in a love/hate relationship with her cat, regularly bummed rides to school from Lance, and was currently trying to work through a bad stomach virus because she couldn’t afford to miss any of her AP classes despite being ahead in all of them.

Keep reading

Herschel

Levi Ackerman. Petra Ral. Modern AU. 

An old man, a young woman, and a dog named Herschel all walk into a graveyard. 

2601 Words.

(ao3.) 


Levi Ackerman did not hate his job, but he could not see himself ever loving it in the future.

When he was younger, he often wondered what he would end up doing in the next few decades. Mowing grass between tombstones and digging holes for burials was not a possibility that ever slipped into his mind.

But somehow, Levi found himself on an early bus every morning, all so he could get to the cemetery on the edge of the town by 8AM.

His profession was nothing near glamourous, considering that his jeans were always covered in dirt and his shirts were never the shade he bought them in.

Whenever people asked him what he did for a living, Levi would try to find a reason to avoid the question and change the topic.

Also, because every single time he actually did answer the question, Levi responded with phrases like ‘cleaning shit off gravestones’ or ‘stopping brats from grave rubbing.’

Keep reading

So I work at a pet store and I had some woman walk in today looking for dog treats. I showed her to a case where we keep a bunch of locally made treats that dogs go crazy for. I wanted to really convince her to buy them, so I told her that they were FDA approved, so even humans could eat them since so many owners worry about what is in their pets food. She said that she would take a few and pulled one out of the case, and in the middle of me explaining that she could put them in a paper bag to hold on to, she just. Takes a fucking bite of this dog treat.

SO IM JUST

MA'AM

THATS NOT QUITE WHAT I MEANT

Conversation that occurred while walking the dog this morning
  • Elderly Woman: What a cute dog! What's her name?
  • Me: His name is Sam.
  • Elderly Woman: Oh, silly me! I'm sorry, I didn't know he was a boy. What's your name then, Miss?
  • Me: My name is Joshua, so I'm not a girl either.
  • Elderly Woman: What? No no, that can't be. You look like a girl, so you definitely are one!

angels and demons part 5

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4


Nico grasped Will’s hand as he stood up, then quickly let go of it – he wanted to hold on, wanted that contact between them even with the leather of Nico’s gloves between them, but he didn’t want to deal with the consequences such a small and simple action would mean. 

Will didn’t seem to notice Nico’s internal dilemma, and continued walking while looking forward. Nico fell in step beside him; neither felt the need to break the silence that had fallen between them as they meandered through the park.

Nico watched Will as Will watched the other patrons of the park, his eyes scanning for any sign of a tortured soul. A pair of joggers, a woman walking her dog, a group of teenagers skateboarding – they passed all of them by, letting them continue in their lives without angelic interference. Nico was just beginning to wonder what it took to gain Will’s attention when the angel stopped, staring off to their left.

Following his line of sight, Nico saw two little girls playing in the grass. The bigger of the two was clearly antagonizing the other, throwing leaves in her hair and sneering at her whenever she was given the chance; the younger girl appeared to getting more and more upset, a wobble beginning to develop in her lower lip.

Will’s hand gestured out from his side slightly, an indication for Nico to give him some space as he approached the two children. Kneeling down beside them, he smiled kindly at both and asked, “Are you two playing nicely?”

The smaller girl shook her head while the other girl glared at her, prompting Will to turn fully to her. Nico watched from only a few feet away as the angel gently brushed so hair out of her face.

“Why don’t you apologize to your friend?”

And that was that – no rays of light shining through the could, no mystical wind ruffling the scene. It simply was just pure and unadulterated love, not something visible, but tangible in it’s own way. Being in close proximity, Nico felt almost as affected as the little girl had been.

Almost.

After a moment, the girl smiled, gave a small nod, and turned to her companion with an apology.

Will stood up, his own smile taking an endearing turn, and retreated back to where Nico had been waiting.

“It really  is something, isn’t it?” Will mused softly, more so to himself than to Nico, who only gave a slight jerk of his head in response; he couldn’t think of something to say that would be appropriate.

“I like helping children, best,” commented Will thoughtfully. “Saving souls is always a good feeling, but it’s even better when you know you’re saving the majority of one’s life as well.”

That statement made Nico freeze, clenching his fists and his jaw; he knew better than anyone just how important it was to save a child when they were in a time of need.

Because no one saved him when he needed it.