#ap the med student

[kazumasougi]

re: last rb another reason marcille is such a blitzcore character to me personally

#mileposting #arent you tired of being a med student. dont you just wanna go ape shitt

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?�� Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #john winchester #slow burn #witch #witch reader #witch craft #sunshine x grumpy #romance #fantasy #bloody mary #urban legends #mystery #mirror #fun facts #the hunter and the witch

[scorpius-major]

#class is now in session!

Ft: Hu Tao, Barbara, Zhongli, Childe, and Gn! Reader

College au!

in which each character gets their own major and school headcannons

𝙃𝙪 𝙏𝙖𝙤

Mortuary science major without a doubt

Gives off chaotic theater kid vibes as well

Has definitely brought an Ouija board to multiple different sleepovers on multiple different occasions

She’s that one friend that gives you oddly frightening fun facts. Facts that make you go “why does she know that?”

“Did you know that if you eat around 10 crushed black cherry pits there’s enough cyanide to kill you?”

Just leaves you sitting there like ma’am how do you know that?

Hu Tao would peer pressure you into joining theater with her

If you have stage fright she’d find a way to expel it from you

In class she can be very committed to work

If you sit next to her however, that’s a different story

has surprisingly good grades ngl

you sometimes wonder how she keeps up with the work while simultaneously goofing off in class

it frightens you sometimes

like she was dead asleep in class one time and nothing would wake her up

until the professor asked her a question

She sat up really quickly and answered it correctly

you just stared at her like🤨

needless to say you quickly stopped questioning her abilities as a student after that

Barbara

choir kid without a doubt

like no explanation needed

no fr barbs literally has the most angelic voice you’ve ever heard

you probably met in a music theory class

let me just tell you this lady is the most respectful roommate EVER

omg her room is always so clean and tidy it’s just like

miss please teach me your ways I beg🧎🏾‍♀️

stright A student without a doubt

her classes are probably all honors too

with the occasional AP

Not exactly a “teacher’s pet” but like is always willing to help them out

She probably becomes a teacher’s aid at one point

please let her tutor you, she loves it

Ayaka

Dancing major without a doubt

she’s taking a business class too

and also studies traditional Japanese calligraphy

listen I didn’t wanna be the one to say it but

she was the kid who reminded to teacher they had homework in middle school

IT JUST MAKES SENSE💀

if you’re a dance major too, she will always partner with you

another respectful af roommate

she cooks too

and it’s absolutely delicious

like she will cancel any takeout you order and will cook herself

another star student

it always surprises you how she can keep up her grades with her 17 different extracurricular activities

Zhongli

let’s be honest he probably is the professor💀

he’d teach world history without a doubt

that or AP English

i can’t see him as a math teacher

most def the teacher that everybody loves

he’s well aware too

i like to think he takes a little pride in being “the coolest teacher”

yeah let’s be honest he probably subtly humble brags ab it in the teachers lounge😭

he’s also the teacher that everybody trys to guess his age and terribly fails at it lmao

Struggles a LOT with technology

when he first tried to use a smart board he got so frustrated he never used it again

probably the only teacher who still uses textbooks and whiteboards

back in his college days I can kinda see him being a philosophy major

but he changed career choices and became a professor instead

Childe

STILL hasn’t figured out his major lmao💀

he fr changes it like every 3-5 business days

without a doubt he got in on a sports scholarship

med avg grades

i can see him struggling in math idk he just seems like the type of guy I can’t explain it

another one who is a really awesome cook

hes probably involved in a frat house ngl

if you’re roommates expect little to no sleep

heavy college fuckboy vibes

but in an endearing way

idk this is really random but in grade school he was the kid at the water fountain who would say “one, two, three, that’s enough for me” whenever someone was more than three seconds

He also would pick a fight with the 8th graders when he was in like 3rd and after he lost he’d tell his friends that he beat up an 8th grader

def a partier

he’d drag you out to parties late at night

but he always makes sure your comfortable and safe at them

love a respectful man fr

please help him in math he’s begging

#astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #childe x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli x reader #hu tao x reader #barbara x reader #ayaka x reader #childe hcs #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #zhongli imagines #zhongli headcanons #hu tao headcanons #ayaka x you

[ally-holmes]

Unseen | ER John Carter x Reader (ch.2)

Series Masterlist

Chapter One — Chapter Three

Pairings: John Carter x Fem!Reader

Summary of the chapter: Let’s know a little more about John Carter and Y/N’s relationship in their first years.

Word Count: 2171

Unseen ER | Chapter Two.

Every story starts from the beginning, and the story between John Carter and Y/N L/N had, also, a beginning. Far into their third year as med students, both of them were accepted into the County General teaching program; up until that point, none of them had met. Carter had done more "fancy" specialties like dermatology, while Y/N had been more enthusiastic about trauma situations, which obviously means that she was way more prepared to be in the Emergency rotation than him.

John Carter's medical tug had its origin in the death of his baby brother. God, he missed him. Bobby was John's partner in crime and mischief until he got sick; then John became his brother's confident and rock. Both children were well aware of the pain and uncertainty in their parents' eyes; there was nothing they could do to help Bobby. He was going to die, no matter what the doctors tried. John made up his mind then. He was going to become a doctor.

The Carters were old money in Chicago. They had different companies and foundations, and although they understood the point of helping those with fewer resources, the truth is that apart from giving them money, they didn't do much. After Bobby's death, John's parents suffocated in their grief, ignoring his remaining child, who grew up with his grandparents and an open mind. He wanted a change, and he wanted to be part of said change. Of course, the family allowed him to study medicine, although they kept envisioning his future as head of the Carter company without asking about his opinion. He had no voice.

Although John grew up surrounded by money and fancy items, he had principles, expectations, and goals. He wanted to be a surgeon. Why? Well, it was the most difficult specialty, of course. If he was able to pull out a good performance, if he was able to understand, learn, and use the knowledge to help people from the darkness of death, then he could happily go to his family and say: "My work as a doctor is more useful than being in the company; give it to Chase, he will do just fine."

What John didn't expect was the fact that working in the ER was more exciting, electrifying, and rewarding. He fell in love with the rush, the quiet, the work against the clock, the delivery of babies in taxis… Yeah, even the complaints weren't so bad after a few hours. He loved it; and he could totally understand why Y/N had always that bursting and contagious energy inside her body, glowing eyes, and determined stance– she lived for those moments in the ER.

Y/N had fit in perfectly with Doctor Mark Greene on the first night of their shift together. They worked together as if they had always done it. She didn't hesitate. She didn't vomit. She was home.

John, on the other hand, felt like a disaster. Doctor Peter Benton seemed to despise him and to enjoy torturing him, seeing him fail. Because he did fail. He hesitated. He vomited. He felt unworthy to be a doctor and that echoed in his mind just like the condescending affirmations of his grandmother.

Just in the middle of his first night, a shot wound came into trauma, and although he wanted to help… well, up until this point he had just specialized in simple things. John felt dizzy and nauseous, and Benton just dismissed him with an "I don't need you anyway" which was fair, but ouch. He went outside, to the cold Chicago air. He crouched with the stethoscope between his hands, pressing it to his forehead, trying to calm his breathing.

John Carter, the failure.

Mark Greene came looking for him. His calm steps echoed like there was nothing else but him and the Emergency entrance. Greene was not like Benton; he looked and was kind. He was interested in the students' improvements, and in the professionals' well-being under his wing in the ER. As he approached John, he kept his distance. He gave him privacy by not looking straight at him, and not invading his personal space.

"I thought I was gonna be sick… I'm sorry." Carter confessed with a sigh.

"Don't ever say you're sorry," Mark advised. "See, there're two kinds of doctors: there's the kind that gets rid of their feelings and the kind that keeps them," he explained as he closed the distance with the student. "If you're going to keep your feelings you're going to get sick from time to time, that's just how it works."

John leaned his head against the wall behind him, feeling the cold concrete clash with the hotness of his skull. Mark Greene, with his green scrubs, round frameless glasses, and his hands behind his back, seemed both strong and kind.

"Keep your head down," he ordered; his voice sterner than before.

John knew that his nausea was easier to die if he did as he was told, but he took his time to comply, undoing his tie. Greene crouched right in front of him. He had been approaching the student as if he was some sort of wounded wild animal in need of help; he was to some extent.

"People come in here and they're sick, dying, and bleeding… and they need our help. Helping them is more important than how we feel." Carter nodded to Greene's words. "But it still a pain in the ass sometimes," he added, wanting to break the solemn tone of the atmosphere between them. Carter broke with a soft breath of a laugh, that kind that fights against the will to cry. "Sometimes I just want to quit and do something else," Greene claimed, and whether it was the truth or a lie, no one could tell. They shared a look, searching for an answer they didn't have. "Why don't you take a few more minutes?"

"Yeah…"

Mark Greene got up and started walking towards the hospital, in slow steps, looking back. "By the way, I was in medical school with Benton. He used to get sick all the time so don't let him give you any crap. Okay? You're gonna be fine."

That talk engraved itself in John Carter's memory with fire. Whenever he felt useless, restless, frustrated, alone… Mark Greene's words echoed in his mind.

Mark Greene was a good teacher.

He was a good doctor.

He was–

Yeah. He was.

He didn't have that talk with Y/N, there was no need for it because she already knew that. Greene could feel and see the fire in her determination to be good to the patients, to help them, to keep her own emotions and feelings, and be empathic but not to the point of ending up suffocated with her own remorse. He talked to her, of course.

"You can't save them all," he said. "You can try; we all do. Yes, sometimes is our fault as doctors because we have not done the proper thing. Yet sometimes it just happens no matter how hard we tried."

"I could've–"

"No," he cut her off, "you couldn't have. All the what-ifs that are running through that head of yours have only one purpose: to make you a better doctor. Don't punish yourself, Y/N; just learn."

Shearing their learnings was something that unified Y/N and Carter during that time. It made them stronger, although it could be quite tense at times.

John Carter was a cutie, which he was well aware of, obviously. He was tall and slim, with perfectly smooth brown hair, lovely doe eyes, and a crocket smile; half adorable and half mischievous. He was fun and witty and kind and smart and– and– Yeah, Y/N fell deep for him. Who could've blamed her? Really? Carter had some sort of magnet that made people like him, whether romantically or platonically, didn't matter.

The first time she asked him out on a date, he stuttered, looked around, and with all the kindness of his heart, said "I don't think we should. I'm… I mean, we're going to be seeing each other here all the time and it would be weird if it doesn't work like– I don't know."

Y/N understood that, and although she felt her face hot with shame, she gave him a big smile and a nod. They didn't talk about it anymore. Of course, she ended up finding out about the crush he had on Susan Lewis. She did not correspond with his feelings, though Y/N was certain it was more about the teacher-student situation than Susan being immune to Carter's charms. Then, the next year (1995), he started something with Harper Tracy, very quietly at first; Y/N only found out when Carter comforted Ross about him sleeping with a student. That was awkward. Y/N had to agree to some extent that it was better not to be caught in the middle of a mess like that one.

She felt like a fool, nonetheless. Y/N avoided Carter for some time, which wasn't that hard as their shifts were opposite most of the time.

They were on their psychiatric rotation when they spoke again.

Carter had been feeling restless lately. He loved surgery, he wanted to become a surgeon, and he knew that the rotation between all the departments in the hospital was required for his final grades. However, his skin crawled with anticipation every time they received a consult call from the ER. Oh, boy, how much he enjoyed going down there, changing the quietness from psychiatric for the healthy noise from the ER… yeah, that was life. Unable to stop himself, he found his emotions mixing and tangling in awful ways, torturing his mind. He needed air and he resourced to go upstairs, to the helicopter's landing space on the roof of the hospital.

This is where he found her.

Y/N was bracing herself on the ledge, her eyes lost in the Chicago skyline that was lighting up as the sun kept hiding for the night, her hair a mess blessed by the wind. She took a long breath; she held it closing her eyes, and then she let go of it. Carter observed how with the air in her lungs, her tension left her body.

"You're not gonna jump, are you?" He tried to joke distastefully. His arms were crossed around his body, trying to keep the warmth.

Y/N gave him a look on top of her shoulder, acknowledged his presence, and turned again to face the city. John took that as an invitation and walked towards the ledge too.

"Hey, there, stranger," he smiled.

"Hi."

The silence felt heavy and suffocating. "It's something wrong?" She shrugged instead of giving him an answer. "Y/N, please. Talk to me. I miss you."

"You do know that I have feelings for you, don't you?" He snorted as if she was just playing a prank. The look of sadness in her eyes made him go pale and open his mouth, looking for an excuse. "Save it. Look, if you don't like me like that I totally get it, Carter. Just– Don't lie to me again."

"I have not lied to you."

"No. You gave me a shitty excuse and you forget." The shadow of recognition flashed through his face. "Yup."

"It's different."

"Oh, pray tell me, how much different it is."

"My relationship with Harper started out of fun. We meant nothing to get out of it. There's no pressure for it to go somewhere."

"And ours does?" She laughed skeptically and hurt.

"Of course!" John burst.

The silence fell upon them once again. Feeling like her heart was shattering, Y/N focused her eyes on a big building away from them; the wind slapping her face with cold indifference. Carter, blushing uncomfortably, danced from one foot to another, feeling colder and colder as he stood leaning on the ledge.

"We have something now. Something big. I trust you. I– I like you very much. But this– this thing, whatever it is, could explode and break and destroy everything in its path if we misstep." John felt his stomach clench. "Think about this. If we start something, it's going to be something big."

"I only asked you out for a coffee, Carter," she spat, looking at him dead in the eyes.

"I know…" he whispered, taken aback. "That would've led into dinner. Another date. Then another. A relationship. Marriage… Just– I'm not ready for something that steady now. I feel that if we start something I'm going to ruin it. Can't we just be friends? Good friends. The best friends the world has ever seen?"

Stupid.

Fuck, so uncomfortably stupid, and yet…

"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess."

While they decided on that and Carter definitely enjoyed the arrangement quite a lot, she hid her suffering for the lonely nights in her small apartment, covered in bed, sobbing against her pillow.

Yeah, stupid. 

To be continued…

#er #er tv series #er tv show #dr. john carter #john carter x reader #john carter #fem reader #noah wyle #mark greene #doug ross #carol hathaway #susan lewis #kerry weaver #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #comfort #luka kovac #abby lockhart

[go-go-gadget-autism]

i had my sophomore slump early except it was only freshman year and now i’m like mostly a straight A student (i almost failed numerous classes freshman year due to never having done block scheduling before and taking the worst AP class ever. man fuck AP HuG. i also did not have meds or therapy or a healthy relationship with my mother and i still don’t really have the last one but it’s BETTER)

[cometcrystal]

oh dang man i’m sorry 😅, idk peanuts characters in highschool

peppermint patty, marcie, and franklin go to a different school in the strip, but i'm hcing they all go to the same high school once theyre older so i can have them all in one place. more convenient.

charlie brown is a very average student. straight Bs and Cs. he is on the football team but does a lot of benchwarming. starts struggling even more with his depression but it leads to him starting meds in college so it turns out ok this is just a rough patch for him

linus still carries his blanket but in some modified form where it's smaller and fits in his hand easier while he's in class. maintains a lot of his old habits actually. he changes the least i think. the ONE thing i will take from dog sees god is that linus is a stoner bc it just fits him but not the way they did it.

lucy is very involved in multiple clubs and such. taking as many AP classes as possible (or whatever the 1960s equivalent of that is). people outside her friend group tend not to like her very much. gets into the occasional fistfight which always draws a crowd. at least two of them are with frieda. she ends up the valedictorian of her class

schroeder is still quiet and doesn't really talk to anyone outside his immediate circle, nor does he feel the need to. gets good grades but also doesn't really aim high since his main focus is getting into a music college. people are always surprised when they realize he's not in the marching band

sally is 2 grades behind the rest of the gang but insists on hanging out with them anyway. she’s 10000% the type to pass notes in class and does so frequently with eudora. she still calls linus her sweet babboo despite not being interested in him anymore. her grades would be terrible if charlie brown didn’t help her with her homework.

peppermint patty is on every sports team the school will allow her to be on. she's always failing at least two classes but some of her teachers will try to work with her cause they see what a talented athlete she is and don't want her transcript to suffer. she's pretty popular by virtue of being a fun person, definitely the most universally-liked out of the gang, but she's still stubborn

marice is in the same camp as schroeder: gets good grades but doesn't aim very high. she's in more honors stuff/clubs than he is though just for the resume bonuses. she's still very deadpan and has not learned an ounce of social grace but gets a boost from being associated with her all-star girlfriend

violet and patty behave like they roll with the "popular" crowd but they are still very much a part of this loser clique (and the peanuts gang IS the weird kid group). they're still inseparable and are generally thought of as a single unit when making plans for get-togethers. until 12th grade they are both ignorant to the fact that they are gay, specifically for each other, and a lot of unnecessary, unconscious pining happens

that's all the main kids i think. charlie brown starts spending more time with both franklin and heather and bonds with both of them a lot. pig pen still goes by pig pen and corrects the teachers when they call his real name on the roll. honestly not a lot changes except for the fact that some of them can drive now and they're generally more self-aware of themselves as human beings (not completely, but theyr'e getting there).

#peanuts #happiness is a meta tag #charlie brown #linus van pelt #lucy van pelt #schroeder #sally brown #peppermint patty #patricia reichardt #marcie carlin #marcie peanuts #violet gray #patty swanson

[beanacomputer]

Hello There (Rambling)

I've been gone a while. Not just from Tumblr. So hi!!!

I've been fiending for somewhere to share my thoughts now that Twitter has left the chat. I'm also on Threads and Post News (ehh I don't like the points system, I get it but I won't participate). I spend the most time on Instagram now.

I use Reddit a decent amount but entirely for business. I sell and work on fountain pens. Other than that I'm also technically a student but honestly pretty crappy at it. So we'll see how that goes...

Those are all distractions! Not really, lol, but sort of! I am working on my tabula magna, my Great Document: The Constitution of the United Republics of Spacia Centralia. I have a couple of other constitutional documents that are nearly complete, and a couple that are early drafts; different ideas and concepts. Unfortunately development of Nova Langa is on the back burner. It's being used in the two early draft documents though, so it's not completely stalled.

These are all fictional interstellar governments in my science fiction universe, working under the name Starfarer. There are also documents describing these governments in simple terms, as well as discussing statutory laws and their various types of uniformed services (not just military) and relationships with each other. I do have individual characters, but the primary subjects of my writing are governments not people.

I suppose from a point of view, I'm writing not one, but several propositional manifestos. From another, I'm creating an excessively intricate astrapolitical world without real characters or a point. From yet another, I'm using entire peoples and governments as characters in a story where the timeline is measured in years and decades rather than days and weeks.

The truth is that I'm a highly politically inclined individual who happens to be obsessive compulsive and on anxiety meds that tend to make me produce rambling essays like this. So I try to focus that energy into Starfarer.

The thing about Starfarer that keeps me so fervently attached to it rather than exploring new concepts for other universes, is that it is my life's work. I began work in the early 2000s, meaning I've put two decades into this, it's a bit hard to change course now.

You might be like "Where the aliens at, bro?" Well, they're coming... Soon™. I'm working out concepts to try to make these new species interesting. In the meantime you can enjoy the fact that Starfarer begins with the uplifting and mass naturalization of the other species of great apes: bonobos, chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans. This has severe implications. Two decades-long Interstellar Wars are fought, in part over this issue.

Aight I'm running out of steam here.

This has been your friendly neighborhood hermit, Oiralire.

Peace out.

#blog #science fiction #scifi #world building #fictional politics #writing

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Live Blogging My Reaction as I edit a Fic - Part 1

The fic is SEAWOLF on AO3. I'll link it at the bottom of this page.

First, I'm not even sure I want to keep the current story line. Currently the main OC - Theresa - is Rooster's kid but she may become Mav's kid in the rewrite.

Secondly... I'm copy and pasting this from AO3, so I'm gonna have to format.

Third: I'm editing the first chapter, but there is a chapter before that in the book that I'll edit at the end (bear with me). The link below is the link from Chapter 1, not the dossier.

Just changed my page layout to match what an average book setup would be and ooooohhh, pretty!

"A couple of nights later, Rooster learns why they got certified."

First line. This was a reference to a cut prologue which I published as a one-shot. In the early to mid-plot plan this was important. Now it's not.

Getting rid of these details is killing me, but there's so much superfluous stuff. It has to go. I have the original copy saved somewhere.

Just spent forever figuring out how to get rid of the spaces between paragraphs in google docs. Maybe I should've done this in word...

I really needed to declutter this chapter. At this point I'm just smoothing everything over.

Damn it, now I wanna split the chapter.

Ya'll I was in AP English in HS. I have spell check. I just can't spell worth shit.

I've always prided myself on realistic dialogue, but sometimes it's hard to differentiate my dialogue between characters because obviously, I'm a college student. I have one experience. But I'm working with characters that can't know normal college lingo. So I'm working on that while doing this and... it's a bit rough.

I was definitely trying to flex my limited medical and anatomical knowledge with this. Trying to be humbler now... but I actually have my CNA and Med Tech so...

Mmmm... I like hurting characters a bit too much.

Should I add page numbers now or...

*I'm hurting Rooster a lot. I like teenage trauma a bit too much...

Head canon: Carole had breast cancer which came back as breast as ovarian cancer after a couple years remission and thats what eventually killed her. This is due to the BRACA1 mutation, which wasn't well known until the 2010's ish. (BRACA1/BRACA2 will have implications down the line.)

My phones at 15% and my computers getting close and it's almost my bedtime. Can I finish the new chapter 1 in time?

This time I actually described the transformation. Kinda avoided that with the first draft.

In the og draft they didn't even call 911, but now they did so I guess the EMS guys are gonna show up this time.

That's all for tonight. Nearly done with new chapter one.

With the book page format, I'm at approx. 8 pages (7 full with like, 1/8 of the 8th filled) and 2,169 words. For reference, the original first chapter has 3,805 words. I think splitting will be the right decision because this book got big fast when I initially wrote it and I have got to get it down.

Is not a bad time to mention that it's also an Ice!Lives fic?

Original Fic link, as promised:

I know it says chapter two but it is really chapter one.

#ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #original character #Theresa Quintar #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky #ice!lives #iceman lives #top gun 1986 #top gun #werewolves #yeah #she's cooky #she's spooky #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #chapter 1

[imperpetuallylost]

i’ve been looking into what it would take for me to get an adhd diagnosis bc i am living in a constant state of burnout basically it’s just not fun i think meds could probably help but the process to get there is truly hellish my teachers (i’m a very high level student i’m taking basically the three hardest classes in the school this year, i believe i have the highest weighted gpa in the school but definitely top 2-3 if not) i’m also terrified of failure or letting my teachers or anyone else know i’m struggling so i would rather sit there physically in pain than be super disruptive. the sheet my teachers would have to fill out is asking questions like are they a bully. do they get out of their seat when they’re not supposed to. do they not do their work. like dude i’m fucking terrified i’m having panic attacks abt getting this done i’m sitting there after school unable to do anything for hours and then forcing myself to get shit done at four in the morning because i can’t make myself sleep if i don’t have it done my teachers don’t fucking know whether i have adhd luke sure maybe they can check off that they’ve seen me fidgeting in class or making careless mistakes on easy work but that’s about it. and the fact that this system was designed for five year old boys not seventeen year old girls makes me incredibly angry as well like “initiates physical fights” should not be on that list????? and also you keep that on the down low my ap calculus teacher would not know if im starting fights outside of school and like one of them was runs around and climbs excessively like??? would u expect me to just be running laps around my chemistry class and jumping on the lab benches?

#i’m having a mental breakdown abt this now #do i even bother trying to get a diagnosis #like honestly this seems pointless #like the self reporting symptoms adult screening test always tells me i have a strong indication of adhd #but there’s no chance like my teachers would report those same things bc they don’t know

[code-chaos]

How I Got into Coding:

I am a first Gen college student.

I had no idea how college worked.

I could take anything and focus on something and graduate, eventually. Degree plans were for engineering majors or something really specific.

(Genuinely, I had no idea, I would have never graduated if I hadn’t changed my entire life)

In one semester I took these 4 courses:

English II, Arabic I, German I, and Chinese I

That was all.

On top of all of that, I intended on becoming a doctor. Did I have the slightest fucking clue what that all actually meant? Of course not. My family didn’t go to college, or even know any doctors. I only knew my family doctor. But I knew there was amazing work being done by doctors all around the world and I wanted that responsibility.

Until I couldn’t wake up early enough to go to my 8:50 AM class. Until I was hoping to get hit my the campus shuttle so I wouldn’t have to deal with my depression. Until I napped every day and missed hours of my on campus job in a ✨ prestigious ✨ office.

So I did what several other members of my family did: I joined the Navy! And boy my life became an adventure! I dated a married man 4 years older than me! I got pregnant at 22 and subsequently abandoned by this man! While living overseas!

Whew after years of stress and manipulation from him, it felt horrible to be free from him. Now I had to raise a baby and become an adult and live in the world as the Head of Household?

Nevertheless, armed with my GI Bill and my also single mother, I pressed on. I moved back to my original university, solely because I had grades that wouldn’t transfer to other universities nearby and I didn’t want to retake classes.

Until I learned the first thing about premed and I had to retake a handful of classes. I was going strong but I was getting burnt out. I knew I couldn’t keep up this level of academic commitment and continue to ramp it up as I would eventually have to go to medical school. I was taking care of me and my baby. I was financing this time. I couldn’t do it anymore.

So I went back to the drawing board. I got on the university catalog and looked over the list. Anything that would help me support my son and I financially that I was remotely interested was added to another list. I didn’t really see anything.

Growing up though, my grandfather (a Navy man and an electrician) and I loved toying with computers. I ended up being the Family Help Desk Technician. My mom said, “Why not something with computers? You’re so good at them!” I would roll my eyes and say, “Mom, I just Google stuff.” (Ironic, you know)

I eventually settled on Computer Information Systems with a focus on Programming. It seems like a cop out from going from Computer Science but would also give me options, like actual help desk, networking, etc etc. Entry level jobs were all available to me.

Coding was hard. I have ADHD but while I was in the Reserves, I learned I wasn’t allowed to take my medication for it. My 3.6 GPA from my Biology major dropped and sitting in dark basement classrooms surrounded by the hum of desktop PCs was awful. I couldn’t focus. I didn’t turn in a single assignment. I did OK on tests because the professors graded on the curve and gave study guides.

When I tell you I tried to learn, believe me. I was surrounded by kids (I was 6 years older than my cohort) who had taken AP Comp Sci the year prior, made their own apps and websites, or even attended full time coding boot camps at night. I was literally scraping by academically. I graduated with a 3.131 GPA lol which isn’t bad but coming from my pre-med mania, that was a crushing realization: I wasn’t good enough. (This isn’t the truth, but just what I believed at the time)

I took a job at a place that was very hard on me, despite having the reputation of being “fun.” I changed from being a SWE to a Test Automation Engineer. That was March 2020. My manager was rude. Need I say more?

With tears in my eyes, I quit. I thought, “Well I tried, I knew I wasn’t good enough.” I told my mentor, “I just don’t have the engineering mindset.” He disagreed and sadly we parted ways.

I began teaching kids to code part time. It was cool seeing this place grow. It’s like the after school activity for the kids who might not play sports, you know what I mean? Some kids did play sports. More than one. Some were involved in several activities, and I felt bad for them. Their parents had them doing something every night of the week!

But for the tiny computer nerds, they came and they conquered. It was beautiful. I felt inspired by them.

I decided to apply to a developer position and I had a few interviews. The position I currently hold is fantastic. My team is so incredibly helpful, cool, kind, all the things you want when you feel crippled by past failure and impostor syndrome.

They gave me new projects and tools to learn and had loose time frames for completion. They checked in on me. I have paired for hours with my team - and they taught me things in a non assuming way. I began to feel euphoric about work and what I was learning.

Then I saw the job posting. You know, the One. I applied and it all worked out. I have fears about success but they’re realistic and limited. Not limiting, though, they aren’t the same thing. I know I have what it takes to learn and succeed and thrive.

And that’s how I got into coding. Also if you read that, you know me pretty well. Please say hello. Share your story!

#codeblr #lady dev #coding #women in computer science

[horsesarecreatures]

Book review - Crazy Brave by Joy Harjo

I read some of Joy Harjo’s poems in high school in my AP Literature class from her collection She Had Some Horses, and a lot of them were really memorable. I didn't know that she had also written this memoir until I found it at a library sale, but I’m glad it came my way. She grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma as part of the Muscogee Nation. That part of her childhood was pretty happy, though her father occasionally beat her mother and had a drinking problem. When her parents divorced, her mother remarried a white man who was 1,000 times worse. He forced her mother to play Russian roulette, belittled her and the children constantly, banned singing and their other hobbies, tried (and sometimes succeeded) in kicking permanently her minor children out of the house, among other things. Joy became severed from her culture during that time, but luckily was accepted into The Institute of American Indian Arts and was able to leave home. If she hadn't been accepted, she was going to run away to California with someone who said he could prostitute her out because that’s how badly she needed to escape her situation at home. 

While at the institute, she focused mainly on painting and acting rather than writing. Writing poetry was something that she actually started doing in earnest a bit later in her life. She almost got kicked out of the school several times (including when her step father wrote to the school with lies about her), but the school believed in her, saw through him, and took steps to put Joy in their custody. She made a lot of accomplishments during her time there, and even joined their traveling theatre troop and went around the U.S. 

However, upon graduating her life started sliding downhill again. She had a baby with an older post-graduate student from the school who was constantly losing jobs. She married him while still a teenager, but it didn’t last long. She then began a new abusive relationship and had another child with a famous poet. She left him when his drinking got to be too much to handle, and then he broke into her house and tried to kill her. She never mentioned his name in the book, but from reading her online bios I found out he was Simon Ortiz (wasn’t expecting that - he’s another famous poet whose works I’ve read). 

Then, she went to college for pre-med, eventually switched her major to creative writing, and started getting poems published. Then the book just ended really abruptly. My one criticism of it is that there were a lot of important things mentioned earlier in the book that were left open-ended. In particular, I really wanted to know how her children grew up, what happened to her mother and if she ever got free from the stepfather, what happened to her siblings, and how her life changed with the success that she had. If you can get over that, though, it’s a really good read and I finished it in less than a day. 

A random excerpt that exemplifies some of the institutional racism she faced growing up: 

“During my last visit to the clinic at the Indian hospital I was given the option of being sterilized. It was explained to me that the moment of birth was the best time. I was handed the form but chose not to sign. I didn't think much of it at the time. Many Indian women who weren't fluent in English signed, thinking it was a form giving consent for the doctor to deliver their baby. Others were sterilized without even the formality of sighing. My fluent knowledge of English saved me.”

#crazy brave #joy harjo #non-fiction #poetry #native american literature #bookblr #book review #memoir

[inkofamethyst]

June 2, 2023

Last summer I think I thrifted this cobalt blue wool, and I’ve been wondering for ages what plans to assign to it, and I’m actually leaning toward a cropped coat, in a similar style to what I’ve planned for the beigey-pink wool.  Like, okay.  I could make a skirt, and a pretty one, but it’s pretty far outside my color palette for pairing things and wouldn’t suit me.  I could make a cape, like another one of the AD wrap ones, but I’ve learned that I’m just not that into capes (yet?).  And while I’m of course in search of a late-Victorian-esque long coat, those are hard to come by and even harder to make, so I might just settle for a shorter vintagey jacket.  Or maybe this Achillea Coat from Mood?  I just know it’s going to need a few mockups before I cut into the good stuff, and that’s a little intimidating.  I’ll likely do some easier projects first.  Alterations, perhaps a skirt or collared shirt.

That med student Masters in House s7 does not act like someone who earned two PhDs lol.  Also who earns two PhDs and then goes on to med school??  

I’m beginning to seriously clean up/clear out my room and honestly just my stuff all over the house, and it’s a little sad, honestly?  I mean there’s no need for me to keep my middle school/high school notes, now.  It’s not like my sibling is following a path anything like mine, what does she need with calc bc notes? or ap lit annotations that I for some reason pulled out from the books I read and meticulously attached them in order to several sheets of paper (I could definitely skim the entire plot of brave new world from those annotations)??  Really, there’s no need for me to keep those old biochem exams, those ones I was so proud of which now feel like incredibly distant memories.  I already have the notes saved in the cloud.  Crazy how time gives the distance needed to put things into perspective.  And I have to start digitizing all my old awards from, well, elementary school all the way up to now probably?  Because ain’t no way imma hang a student of the month award or something from sixth grade or whenever in my professional office, but my mom would probably murder me twice over if I trashed everything without saving it somehow.  So.  That’s another summer project.  Gotta come up with a naming system.  So fun.  :/

While I have no plans to make any graduation posts (my photo-friend may pressure me into it though lol), I am looking forward to switching out my profile pictures in several places with actually cute photos and, finally, changing my ig name to something a tad more adult.  

I genuinely don't like taking photos of myself because I get overly critical and frustrated with the details and mild imperfections of how I look as opposed to focusing on the idea of commemorating some special moment, so today I am excessively thankful for my photo-friend hyping me up during our grad photoshoots and being patient with me while I tried things out even though I felt really really ridiculous.  I’m terribly excited to see how they all turn out!!!  We probably took a few hundred photos this week, and even though I’m super super picky with my photos, at least a couple of them have to be stellar.

[richincolor]

If you're in the mood for contemporary novels this summer, we've got you covered! Here are six contemporary YA novels that are out in July and August. Which ones will you be adding to your TBR list?

Boys I Know by Anna Garcia Peachtree Teen

*A high school senior navigates messy boys and messier relationships in this bitingly funny and much-needed look into the overlap of Asian American identity and teen sexuality.*

June Chu is the “just good enough” girl. Good enough to line the shelves with a slew of third-place trophies and steal secret kisses from her AP Bio partner, Rhys. But not good enough to meet literally any of her Taiwanese mother’s unrelenting expectations or to get Rhys to commit to anything beyond a well-timed joke.

While June’s mother insists she follow in her (perfect) sister’s footsteps and get a (full-ride) violin scholarship to Northwestern (to study pre-med), June doesn’t see the point in trying too hard if she’s destined to fall short anyway. Instead, she focuses her efforts on making her relationship with Rhys “official.” But after her methodically-planned, tipsily-executed scheme explodes on the level of a nuclear disaster, she flings herself into a new relationship with a guy who’s not allergic to the word “girlfriend.”

But as the line between sex and love blurs, and pressure to map out her entire future threatens to burst, June will have to decide on whose terms she’s going to live her life—even if it means fraying her relationship with her mother beyond repair. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

How Maya Got Fierce by Sona Charaipotra Feiwel & Friends

Ever since she was little, farmer's daughter Maya Gera has known what her future holds.

The heiress to a mini garlic empire in the heart of Gilroy, California, she's meant to be a good Indian girl -- which means agriculture school, an MBA, and settling down with a suitable Sikh boy.

So spending her 17th summer at cow camp in New Jersey is a really big deal. Farm kids nationwide convene to learn to milk cows, shuck corn, and, uh, form 'strategic alliances.' But when Maya gets kicked out of camp after an expensive accident -- yes, it involves a boy -- she scrambles to save face and keep her parents from finding out. Hard to do when she owes the school thousands of dollars.

Desperate to earn enough to pay off her mistake, Maya interviews for an internship at Fierce, a fashion magazine she's been obsessed with forever. When she lands a gig as assistant features editor, it's a New York City dream come true. Especially because she rocks at it.

But it might soon become her worst nightmare -- because the Fierce folks think she's 26.

And just wait until her parents find out. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Love Times Infinity by Lane Clarke Little Brown/Poppy

High school junior Michie is struggling to define who she is for her scholarship essays, her big shot at making it into Brown as a first-generation college student. The prompts would be hard for anyone, but Michie’s been estranged from her mother since she was seven and her concept of family has long felt murky.

Enter new kid and basketball superstar Derek de la Rosa. He is very cute, very talented, and very much has his eye on Michie, no matter how invisible she believes herself to be.

When Michie’s mother unexpectedly reaches out to make amends, and with her scholarship deadlines looming, Michie must choose whether to reopen old wounds or close the door on her past. And as she spends more time with Derek, she’ll have to decide how much of her heart she is willing to share. Because while Michie may not know who she is, she’s starting to realize who she wants to become, if only she can take a chance on Derek, on herself, and on her future. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Twice as Perfect by Louisa Onomé Feiwel & Friends

The only things worth doing are those that will lead to success.

For seventeen-year-old Adanna Nkwachi, life is all about duty: to school and the debate team, to her Nigerian parents, and even to her cousin Genny as Ada helps prepare Genny’s wedding to Afrobeats superstar Skeleboy (“Skeleboy me, Skeleboy this money, everything na Skeleboy…that Skeleboy!”). Because ever since her older brother, Sam, had a fight with their parents a few years ago and disappeared, somebody has to fill the void he left behind. Ada may never know what caused Sam to leave home, but the one thing she’s certain of is that it’s on her to make sure her parents’ sacrifices aren’t in vain.

One day, chance brings the siblings back together. Although she fears how their parents will react if they find out she and Sam are back in touch, Ada’s determined to get answers about the night Sam left—Sam, who was supposed to be an engineer but is now, what, a poet? The more she learns about Sam’s poetry, the more Ada begins to wonder if maybe her own happiness is just as important as doing what’s expected of her. Amid parental pressure, anxiety over the debate competition, a complicated love life, and the Nigerian wedding-to-end-all-weddings, can Ada learn, just this once, to put herself first? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

How You Grow Wings by Rimma Onoseta Algonquin Young Readers

Sisters Cheta and Zam couldn’t be more different. Cheta, sharp-tongued and stubborn, never shies away from conflict—either at school or at home, where her mother fires abuse at her. Timid Zam escapes most of her mother’s anger, skating under the radar and avoiding her sister whenever possible. In a turn of good fortune, Zam is invited to live with her aunt’s family in the lap of luxury. Jealous, Cheta also leaves home, but finds a harder existence that will drive her to terrible decisions. When the sisters are reunited, Zam alone will recognize just how far Cheta has fallen—and Cheta’s fate will rest in Zam’s hands.

Debut author Rimma Onoseta deftly explores classism, colorism, cycles of abuse, how loyalty doesn’t always come attached to love, and the messy truths that sometimes family is not a source of comfort and that morality is all shades of gray. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

This Is Why They Hate Us by Aaron H. Aceves Siimon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Enrique “Quique” Luna has one goal this summer—get over his crush on Saleem Kanazi by pursuing his other romantic prospects. Never mind that he’s only out to his best friend, Fabiola. Never mind that he has absolutely zero game. And definitely forget the fact that good and kind and, not to mention, beautiful Saleem is leaving L.A. for the summer to meet a girl his parents are trying to set him up with.

Luckily, Quique’s prospects are each intriguing in their own ways. There’s stoner-jock Tyler Montana, who might be just as interested in Fabiola as he is in Quique; straight-laced senior class president, Ziggy Jackson; and Manny Zuniga, who keeps looking at Quique like he’s carne asada fresh off the grill. With all these choices, Quique is sure to forget about Saleem in no time.

But as the summer heats up and his deep-seated fears and anxieties boil over, Quique soon realizes that getting over one guy by getting under a bunch of others may not have been the best laid plan and living his truth can come at a high cost. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

#boys i know #how maya got fierce #love times infinity #twice as perfect #how you grow wings #this is why they hate us #contemporary #weneeddiversebooks

[notmidnight]

Introduction post

about me:

call me midnight

14 years old

pisces

entp-t

im a stoner with mommy issues and an awful music taste

about my tcs:

(I don’t that much about them I’ve just met them) (also fun cute fact all of our first names start with d 😻😻)

d is 42

teaches human geography (ap class if that matters)

has sextape (I haven’t seen it)

has sons (idk how many)

has grandkid

is married

has ex husband

had a restaurant (closed down)

is white (my whole school is ethnically Hispanic)

she is also very bitchy but still funny and nice idk I love her tho

r is young (I estimate around 32)

teaches biology (honors class again if that matters?)

Is rumored to be on medicinal marijuana by another teacher (when my sister was her student)

no kids

currently going through divorce (super recent)

pretty sure she knows me and my friend have a crush on her or that we get smoke before her class

Reese’s are her favorites 😍

borderline a mean bitch def has mood swings (the meds) she kind of flirts back or does things to make me blush and squirm on purpose she does know how to joke and loves the attention so if she’s picking on you pick on her back for a cute ass laugh YK 😻😻

#intro post #tc blog #tc #tcc #female tc #love #teacher crush #student x teacher #her #teacher x student #teacher love #teacher #wlw #female teacher crush #female teacher #teacher cc #nblw #teachers #sapphic tc #teacher crush community #blog intro #welcome to my tc blog ahh