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joelswritingmistress · 6 months

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Last Halloween: Chapter 2

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Angst

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

You went back to the house you were renting with your three friends once your shift ended. Honestly, despite them being some of the closest people in your life, you didn't know how they would feel about your interaction with Joel. Rather than speculate and guess, you simply put it out in the open.

"I talked to Joel Miller today," you blurted out while the four of you mindlessly toyed on your phones with the television playing in the background. The mindlessness paused at the mention of his name and suddenly all eyes were on you.

"You talked to him?" Your friend Chrissy asked.

"Where?" Winnie asked a second later.

Shit. You knew by making it sound ominous that you weren't doing him any justice. You had unintentionally added to the local folklore, or worse, the slander of this man's name.

"He stops in at the coffee shop," you said with a shrug. "I feel bad for him."

"Bad?" Chrissy asked, her eyes bugging wide. "He's a killer."

"He's not a killer," you countered.

"Ooo, I don't know," your third roommate, Jessie, chimed in. "I heard-"

"Everyone has heard something different," you cut them all off. "At a trial he was found innocent. I heard he was the one who was attacked and he defended himself."

"Who the hell knows," Winnie said. "Whether he's a killer or not, I'd stay away. You just can never be too careful."

She isn't totally wrong, you knew. What if the people in town had it right and Joel had skated by on a loophole? Or what if he was attacked and it was all just a tragic mess that ended badly? From Joel's body language that you saw almost daily, you could almost see the guilt steaming out of him. Monsters didn't feel guilt.

"I just don't think he ever got a chance to tell his side of the story," you explained with a shrug. "I don't know."

"What did you talk to him about?" Jessie asked.

"I just sat down," you explained and then reluctantly admitted, "I asked him to go out-"

"You asked him out!?" Chrissy shouted. "He killed someone!"

"It was an accident," you assured her. "And I didn't ask him out like that. I just.. asked him to do something. He just looks so lonely."

Chrissy looked to Winnie. "Girl, can you talk some sense into her before she ends up on Dateline."

You all laughed and you shook your head. "I don't know. I l figured you guys would react like this." You stood up and went to retrieve a bottle of pumpkin ale from the fridge.

As good of friends as Chrissy, Winnie and Jessie were, you knew they wouldn't understand your empathy toward Joel, the man your town had branded as some kind of boogeyman. And so you decided to drop it and watch the scary movie one of your friends had put on. Deep down, however, you were silently thinking about Joel.

A deep dive into Google had lead you on a bit of a wild goose chase that night and the next morning. You had Googled Joel Miller, and after finally getting past the plethora of articles revolving around the accident, you finally discovered a link with some valuable information - like his employer.

Stalker! You called yourself in your mind. If anything it made you smile and roll your eyes at yourself. Everyone Googled everyone. Right? Joel Miller would be no exception to that. When you found the address of where he worked, you grabbed your keys and began your drive across town to a notorious junk yard and car repair center.

The gates to the grounds were wide open when you arrived. Despite living in town your whole life you had never been down here. It was stereotypical, with rows and rows of cars that seemed to stretch on for miles. With your window rolled down you could hear a loud humming or buzzing sound coming from somewhere in one of the big, open garage bays.

A hefty man with a bushy mustache approached your vehicle as you eased inside the gates.

"Can I help ya?" He asked, slightly out of breath as he placed a meaty hand on the car.

"Um, yeah, I have an appointment with Joel. He's supposed to take a look at this ratting noise in my car."

The man scratched his head and looked down toward one of the open bays. "You can pull it down in front of the last one there. He'll take care of ya."

"Thank you." You smiled and slowly cruised down between two rows of cars, a cloud of dirt trailed your vehicle as it bounced over the uneven landscape.

When you got to the last bay you glanced inside, seeing Joel working up a sweat and he whipped around the workspace. A Jeep was perched up on a lift inside.

For a moment you drank him in. Rolled up sleeves of a black thermal over jeans and beat up work boots. Grease was smudged in random places on his face and he carried a silver tool as he walked.

As you clicked the door open, he turned in your direction, only to do a double take when he saw it was you. Butterflies emerged in your stomach and you took a breath as you met him by the door's entrance.

"Hi." You greeted him.

"Hi." Skepticism continued to hang in the tone of his voice.

"She's got a rattling noise in her car." The man with the bushy mustache seemed to come out of nowhere, patting Joel on the shoulder as he quickly passed by to enter the garage.

For whatever reason, the interact left you at peace, at least to a small degree. Someone was friendly with Joel, at least.

"Yeah, um." You motioned to your car and you could tell Joel knew it was more bullshit.

"A rattling noise?" He asked.

"Yeah, look, I didn't come here about my car," you confessed, though you knew Joel already knew that.

"You can take off after that one!" The other man shouted to Joel. "I'll finish up the oil change on the Jeep and then lock it up for the night."

"Thanks," Joel called back and then returned his attention to you. "Why'd you come here?"

You eyed a motorcycle off to the side and before you could answer his question or ask him one of you own, Joel said simply. "It's mine."

A smirk formed on your face and you walked over toward the bike, placing a careful hand on the handlebars. "Teach me to ride it?" You said, half-kidding.

Joel finally cracked a barely-there smile and joined you by the motorcycle. "Fine. Hope on."

Your eyebrows raised and you smiled wider at him before doing your best to straddle the bike. When you placed your hands on the handlebars you looked back at him. "Now what?"

Joel crept in behind you and the butterflies in your stomach escalated again. You feel a twinge of pleasure when his hands came down over yours. "Believe it or not this is the break. And this is the throttle. If you bring your hand this way toward you, you accelerate." He moved your hand backwards a bit and you continued to grin to yourself.

Joel immediately backed off once he was done showing you some of the basics and you turned to him, still positioned on the bike.

"Do I look cool?" You asked, making him actually chuckle this time.

Progress, you thought.

"Cooler than I do," Joel answered.

"Well, let's judge." You got off the bike and waited as he hesitated before getting on. "All you need is a leather jacket."

"He's got one hanging in here," Joel's coworker called out, making you laugh at the fact that he was obviously eavesdropping.

"Thanks Ron." He shook his head and looked back to you, attempting not to smile but one finally broke through again.

"I've never been on one before," you admitted, creeping closer to him. Your eyes were sparkling with excitement and you could wholeheartedly sense Joel's hesitation again.

On the same note, you saw a flash of something change in his expression and could tell when his guard was let down just enough. "Get on."

You flashed a wide smile and straddled the back of the bike, wrapping your arms securely around his midsection. When Joel started up the bike you felt a rush of adrenaline that you hadn't ever felt in your life.

"Hold on," he instructed before taking off back up through the rows of cars.

Your hair whipped in all directions as you flew out of the gates and onto a wooded back road. What a rush!

A part of you wanted to look down but you knew it could ruin the experience and so you squinted ahead into the incoming darkness and smiled wider.

The chill of October air kissed your cheeks, leaving a little sting as you whipped through the town. Joel half-looked back at you when you cruised past your coffee shop and you held onto him a little tighter.

Everything whipped by in little flashes - couples walking the town green, ghosts hanging from trees, lights from the little businesses about town that were close to shutting down for the night.

As darkness fully submerged the two of you, you almost felt like there was no one else on earth; that you and Joel existed in this exclusive world build for the two of you without hurt, pain or prejudice. You didn't want the ride to end. You didn't want that feeling to end. It was a feeling you knew you would chase again.

When the motorcycle finally came to a halt in front of the now-locked gates of the junkyard, you could hear your chorus of heavy breathing for the first time. It matched Joel's, and when he got off the bike a second after you, you could see he was equally basking in the afterglow of the ride.

You ran your hands through your hair and you could almost feel the energy that radiated out of your wind tossed hair. "Wow." It was all you could say.

Joel smiled at you more genuinely now. "Hope I didn't scare you."

"You don't scare me." You shook your head. "Quite the opposite actually."

There was a silence that lingered as you stood there at the desolate entrance to the junkyard at the edge of town. Leaves from the surrounding trees swirled down in elegant, twirling patterns. One stuck in your hair and you didn't notice until Joel leaned a hand in your direction.

For a second you were prepared for a kiss - a smoldering, adrenaline-ridden kiss. But as your eyes began to close in anticipation you quickly realized Joel was reaching for the bright yellow leaf that had clung to your still-wild strands of hair.

"Oh." You felt the tiniest flush of embarrassment but it was fleeting and certainly didn't ruin the moment. "Thanks." You gave a quiet chuckle and Joel smiled.

"Let me get you to your car." He unlocked the gate and walked the motorcycle down into the junkyard with you by his side.

If Joel hadn't been beside you, you would have been freaked out. The place was eerie at night with no one around; but somehow that added to the thrill right then and there in the moment.

You weren't ready to call it a night. It felt as dark as midnight but it was only seven o'clock.

"So," you turned to him as you used your key fab to unlock your car. "Do you want to go down to the East Bend Tavern with me tonight? There's a costume party."

Joel seemed to cringe. "I don't know."

"Come." You knew you were sounding a little desperate, but it didn't matter. The motorcycle ride and the intensity you felt being in Joel's company was a bit addicting. Even if it ended up being just one night, you wanted to really live it.

"Costume party.." He toyed with the idea in his head.

"I picked up a couple of cheap masks." You gave a laugh and popped open the trunk of your car. You reached in and pulled out a plastic scarecrow mask and a plastic black cat that covered down past the nose. "I have dibs on the black cat but uh.." You extended your arm toward Joel with the scarecrow mask.

He looked down, slowly taking the mask in both of his hands. Joel stared at it for a moment and then looked back up. "Maybe no one will recognize me." He immediately added, "What time?"

"Meet you there at nine?"

"Nine." Joel looked back down at the mask and he let out a deep breath. Anxiety oozed out of him but he nodded. "Nine it is."

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 3

@untamedheart81 @amy172

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erin-gilberts · 11 months

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yellowjackets s2 finale spoilers but I am screaming crying fucking throwing up that -

The wilderness ostensibly did choose Natalie the first time. It was Misty in all her human cunning who figured out a loophole, how she could change the game so it worked in her favor. She saved Natalie from being chosen when they were young, so not only did the wilderness return for what it was owed, it ensured Natalie's death was at Misty's own hand. It's so on-theme. The girls wanted Shauna to live and so her baby died. They asked for food and then there was Jackie perfectly cooked. Misty rescued Natalie from the others and now Misty has been unable to save Natalie from herself because she has never, ever been willing or able to engage with her own darkness no matter how many innocent people she hurts.

It's tragic and cosmic and it rips out my heart. Misty never wanted Crystal to die and she never wanted Natalie to die. This is the same girl who expressed anger at herself through grief-stricken sobs as she cried out, "You always do this!" She doesn't understand why she's like this or how she manages to shatter every single thing she cares about in the world despite trying so desperately to protect and preserve them. But she does. She's done it again and again and she always, every time, finds a way to make it not her fault.

The thing is - as much as the wilderness seems to function as a genie-esque entity that grants wishes but never in the way one might expect - "the wilderness" was always primarily a convenient excuse for the girls to externalize the darkness they couldn't accept as part of them. Shauna says as much - that it was an unspoken agreement among them to shift the fault for whatever they had to do to survive onto this powerful force that was easy to buy into and blame.

"It" returned and chose Natalie again because "it" is that need to justify and defend and believe even in the face of all evidence that you're still a good person who loves and helps and takes care of people. You're not a monster. You're not a killer, and even if you did kill a few people, it was for the good of the group.

Until, that is, you miscalculate your aim, and you get to live with having watched the light leave the eyes of the last person you loved in your arms because you killed her. You killed her for nothing; it meant nothing, it did nothing, it was for nothing, and it's going to ruin Misty Quigley as the one act she will never, ever find a good enough excuse to soothe away the guilt of.

#erin is talking #yellowjackets #mistynat #misty quigley

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biggestxsimps · 8 days

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Deception & Intriuge

A/N: This was requested over on our wattpad, another request will be out soon for YanSim! I’m just focusing on school at the moment since the workloads increased. I hope you enjoy!

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO ADD THAT Y/N IS KIRA!!

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KIRA…

TRANSLATION; KILLER

The night air was thick with tension as Y/N strolled through the dimly lit streets, shrouded in mystery. Another encounter awaited him at the Japanese task force building, where L resided. As he approached the building, a sense of both curiosity and agitation washed over him.

L was starting to suspect him which was getting on his nerves. But also. This was perfect. Y/n saw an opportunity in L’s unexpected liking towards him, realising the potential to turn the tide of the investigation to his advantage. With a calculated approach, these last few months he had been under L’s surveillance, he had strategically begun to build a stronger connection with him, gaining his trust through subtle cooperation and active involvement through the case. Y/n elected some sort of empathy from L, clouding his judgement and creating a shield around himself.

Inside, a labyrinth of monitors and scattered notes filled the room. L, a figure cloaked in the shadows, turned his piercing gaze towards you. “I have been observing you.” he said, voice laced with suspicion. “There are certain inconsistencies in your actions that raise my suspicions.” His intellect was unmatched, Y/N couldn’t help but be captivated by his presence.

But Y/N was not without his secrets. Throughout school, he was classified as a genius right through to his adulthood. He is highly perceptive, and manipulative. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to slip out a single word that would hint that he was Kira.

“May I ask, what certain inconsistencies are you speaking of?” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Ryuzaki?”

“Kira is located in the Kanto region of Japan, he is believed to be a college student based on the timings of the killings. It’s obvious also that he has access to the police database, shown through the timing adjustments and a behavioural analysis we conducted whilst you were under camera surveillance at home.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, keeping the innocent facade present as his hands rested in his pockets. “Interesting deductions, L. The investigation certainly seems thorough. But I must say, attributing all these traits to one person seems like a stretch. Let's not overlook the possibility of a more elaborate scheme at play here, shall we?”

L found himself back in a loophole, so utterly confused, yet he knew Y/N was Kira. What was stopping him from detaining him? He disregarded his feelings for him, the slight attraction that grew for Y/N each day was starting to get to him.

The dance of words and gestures became a delicate balance between exposing his true intentions and maintaining his innocence.

“Funny how Kira seems to have a knack for timing, isn’t it? Almost as if they have insider information..” Y/N spoke casually

As L’s piercing gaze lingered on Y/N, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, hidden behind his facade of innocence. He knew damn well that he had L’s attention, and he relished in the thrill of the game they played, each step drawing them together.

“Well Ryuzaki?” Y/N began, his tone teasing. “I must admit, once again your suspicions are certainly flattering. You tend to love a good mystery, especially when it's directly in front of you.”

L’s expression remained stoic, but a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Y/N.” He retorted. “But I must admit, you do have a certain charm to you..”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle softly, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m well aware of my charms.” He replied. “But it seems you’re the one caught in my web of intrigue. Tell me, detective, are you enjoying the chase as much as I am?”

L’s lips quivered into a half-smile, a rare display of amusement. “You’re certainly full of surprises, Y/N.” He admitted.

Masterlist

-Written by owner 2

#male reader #biggestxsimps #malereader #x male reader #mxm #mlm #xmalereader #malexmale #male character x male reader #m reader #death note x male reader #death note x reader #death note #ryuzaki #deathnote

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sundered-souls · 24 days

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Aïcha Bedi

B A S I C S

Name: Aïcha Bedi

Nicknames: none

Age: In her thirties

Nameday: 28th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon (which she probably shares with a bunch of my characters)

Race: Midlander hyur

Gender: Cis woman

Orientation: Mostly straight

Profession: Adventurer, formerly a contract killer

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Long and curly. She takes great care of it and regularly despair at what Inge does with hers.

Eyes: Brown

Skin: Fair, but tan easily. Considering how much time she spends outside, people tend to assume her skin is darker than it actually is (on this point the screenshots aren't very accurate since they don't show her tan but that'd be a nightmare to represent accurately XD)

Tattoos/scars: No tattoos whatsoever. She's got plenty of scars, most aren't really remarkable, but there are two that are special: one from Zenos' blade when he stabbed her in Rhalgr's Reach (it's not just her ego who got bruised that day, sorry MSQ), and one from her cesarean section while she was on the First. Don't worry: nothing creepy happened while she was unconscious, G'raha just had the worst timing ever.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Her father lives peacefully in Tural. She has no idea where her mother is, if she's still alive or even who she was since she left when Aïcha was still an infant.

Edmont de Fortemps also counts (haha) as a paternal figure in her life.

Siblings: None by blood. She does consider Alisaie and Alphinaud like her siblings, however. Artoirel and Emmanellain are more like extended family.

Grandparents: Long dead of her father's side. No idea on her mother's.

In-laws and Other: Well, she's in a relationship with Estinien so I suppose Alberic counts as her father in-law. The moment both realized that their respective father would have to meet eventually was glorious, because the dad jokes will be neverending and mostly at their expense.

Officially, they also have a kid together born during her time on the First.

Officially, because Estinien offered to adopt the kid and pretend he was the biological dad. Only three people know who said bio dad truly is, none of them is the man in question, and Aïcha would rather die than say it out loud. It's one thing to make dubious life choices, another one to let the world know about it...

(I haven't decided on the name or gender yet, but we can thank @gatheredfates for the prompt she sent me. It got completely out of hand but I'm having a lot of fun with the idea it gave me.)

Pets: None

S K I L L S

Abilities: Excellent shooter, although her mechanical skills don't go much further than what she needed to maintain her guns. She hasn't touched one in years and has no intention to change that.

Excellent dancer given that she's trained since childhood. She dances about as much for the artistry of it as for the self-expression it allows without having to speak her feelings out.

She also went through the GLD/PLD quests in Ul'dah, and that's mainly how she's been fighting since then.

She's also a surprisingly good poet and singer, albeit that's not known to many people.

Hobbies: Writing or reading poetry, singing, dancing and trying out new food (including the kind of food that even the most adventurous people hesitate to put in their mouth). She's pretty receptive to art in general to be honest and will gladly watch plays or go to concerts if she can.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Open-minded

Most Negative Trait: her competitiveness. You'd think someone who succeeds as well as her would be graceful when she loses but fuck no! Every Scions and most people who played even a card game against her once know that she's a sore loser and will use every loophole under the sun to try to win lmao

L I K E S

Colors: carmine and gold

Smells: campfires, incense, fresh flowers, the ocean

Textures: Soft fabrics (silk and satin especially), the sand under her feet, the breeze against her skin (yeah it counts as a texture)

Drinks: the main thing that matters is how much caffeine there's in it and how much sugar she can add to it

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: No

Drinks: Alcohol sometimes, but never a lot and only very, very occasionally since the banquet and then the drugged beverage in Falcon's Nest. For the most part, she runs on water as well as coffee and tea if available.

Drugs: No, she hates not feeling in control of herself

Mount Issuance: Aïcha didn't join any free company. That'd mean taking orders and she's no soldier, so she didn't have a mount until Haurchefant offered her her black chocobo. As you can guess, it's been her mount ever since.

I'm not entirely clear on the timeline in StB yet for her, but if she got her yol, she left it with the Mols.

Been Arrested: no but she should have.

Tagged by: @lilbittymonster (ty again! I'm probably not gonna tag you every time because you'll get tired of it at some point I think XD)

Tagging @xsummoner-kuro @hinganskies @briar-ffxiv @confusedtia @paintedscales @fair-fae @mrlarkstin @thatonediviner @fatewalker @otherworldseekers @saeta @airis-ray @mymistymornings @riftdancing @sailor-artemis @starforger and anyone else interested. Feel free to ignore the tag if that's not your thing, and I'll do that template for more characters during the week so I'll tag new people then!

#OC: Aïcha #I'm like the one Wolstinien shipper with Estinien being the reasonable one of the two :'D

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aita-blorbos · 8 months

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AITA for trying to make my best friend and girlfriend's lives better?

I (16M) have extremely powerful magical abilities that allows me to do almost anything. I often use this to do nice things for my best friend (17M) and girlfriend (15F), but as of late I've felt bad about how me using my powers for only minor things like giving them nice gifts have lead to them suffering horribly emotionally when I could help them, especially after an incident where I let someone I love probably get killed because of my girlfriend telling me not to use my powers to save her.

So my best friend also has the same powers I have, but he's been told his whole life, as I was told, that using the powers will make him "lose his soul" and turn into a violent killer. Unfortunately, a relative of his with the same powers did actually snap and kill most of his family, and because of this he is horribly traumatized and afraid to use his powers. But this is all not necessary because I've figured out a loophole where I put all my powers into a scroll so it's not me actually using it and it doesn't affect me, and with this ability I've been using the magic freely without being affected. He doesn't listen to my reassurances and stays miserable and afraid of himself, not doing all the good he could do for himself with his powers, and up until now I've respected that because I understand how traumatized he is. But I've also realized that his girlfriend (17F) is really unhealthy for him and contributing to his self-hatred. When we first met, she tried to kill me just for having powers, and she's hated and been suspicious of me ever since. It must be horrible for his self-esteem to be with someone who is so bigoted she would want to kill people just like him when he already has so many issues with his self-worth, even if she tries to tell him that he's "one of the good ones".

Then there's my girlfriend, who doesn't have the same powers but can see the future. In particular, multiple futures, all of which have a possibility of happening. She's also pretty miserable and anxious all the time because of all the horrors she sees, and trying to fix it all from such a young age. But a lot of the bad futures involve me becoming evil and doing bad things, so she's always watching and criticizing me to make sure I don't do that. Although I sympathize with her, I find it tiring because I wish she would trust me and understand that I have free will, that I shouldn't be punished for things I haven't done yet and I wish we could just live in the moment and be happy together. Plus I feel I've already sufficiently proved that I'm not going to be evil, because I deliberately sacrificed my own powers to put them in the scroll just so I wouldn't lose my soul, even though it meant the powers would no longer be mine and I would be vulnerable. Why isn't that act of love for her enough?

So, the things I tried to do to fix their problems: first of all, I sealed my friend's girlfriend inside a wooden doll, while faking a letter from her to make my friend thing she just left. No, she's not conscious in here, and I didn't kill her (reviving the dead is not allowed with my powers), so I can bring her back any time I want without issue after I figure out how to make sure she stops being a bad influence on him, so this is not the same as murder, it's just trying to make my friend finally happy! And secondly, I gave my girlfriend earrings that would make her only see happy futures, so she would be happy and not miserable with worry for once. I thought what she doesn't know wouldn't hurt her and she really did seem so much happier, but now they've found out about the earrings (they don't know about the wooden doll thing) and they are all telling me that I am evil now and this is the bad future, and I don't get it! I'm not killing anybody, I'm just trying to help them and I've succeeded in making their lives a lot better! But since they are insisting I decided to post here to ask if I was being the asshole.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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b1ackx · 1 year

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Ok so…. This is my first post and I’m trying to create a concrete story outline for these characters I have and I’ve seen that a lot of y’all are rlly good at angst and well written ideas…. I was kinda hoping someone might help me write out more for these characters backgrounds and storylines….

Ummmm… so so far I have only some for two characters Duco and Nyleen, both are the main characters and imma introduce more characters later on and also post pictures later on (hopefully) to help with the picturing and stuff but uhh.. here’s what I have so far. Oh also btw these are in idea form, not story so pls don’t expect some sort of elaborate story, just ideas to solidify said story.

Duco and Nyleen story

In an everyday regular high school, Duco and Nyleen go to school

Duco is being heavily bullied and no matter how much Nyleen tries to protect him no one else helps and none of the teachers do anything so it’s kinda rlly bad

One day the bullying got rlly bad and in the end as soon as Nyleen got there to help she came in time to have her brother die in her arms

After the “accident” Nyleen has to deal with the fact that the so called popular students killed her brother

She starts to slowly go insane the more time she spent at school knowing the reason she no longer had her little brother was because of those people so she starts to intricately plan their deaths to be the most sadistic, violent, and painful deaths

She plans it for everyone who wronged her brother: their dad, the teachers, the bullies, the police, ppl who did nothing, etc

The only people who will be left alive are those who were actually their friends

Before she could put these plans into effect, she had to pretend to be nice to all of them. She became a “popular” only with the thought of homicide comforting her rage against the people who wronged Duco

After all the planning, Nyleen puts each and every plan to effect and succeeds, creating a huge massacre with only a select few surviving

After all was said and done Nyleen was killed by one of the survivors. She purposely left that one survivor alive knowing they would kill her

She didn’t fight back and just let them take her life

____

After Duco died, he was sent to heaven

As beautiful as heaven was represented on earth it was nothing like the actual thing.

It still had the same principles of how a good person would come to heaven and a bad to hell but it was corrupted and overrun by power hungry people who made it in with the loophole of doing good instead of meaning good

Duco tries to make it a better place, finding other good people and trying to form a strike against the corrupt system only to be cast down to hell and become a “Fallen”

____

After Nyleen had died, she was obviously sent to hell

In hell, as a “newborn” demon she was assumed to be weak and was sent off to an imprisonment camp where all new/weak demons, imps, devils, etc. were sent

Her rage and deeds put her into the demon category which in the hierarchy of hells power was the most powerful but not all demons are powerful and she was assumed to be weak like mentioned earlier

After killing her jailers and escaping the camp, she starts to gains respect and followers (not in the “oh your a good person” way but in the “Daym she killed them all” or “damn she could kill me rlly easily” way)

Sooner or later Nyleen becomes one of the most powerful and respected figures in hell

Years of self defense and fights for survival hardened her into a cold killer with no sense of mercy along with the thoughts of how the world had killed her brother and she no longer could be with him

At least until one day she witnessed a bright light fall from the top of the accursed cavern and land in her territory

Of course she went to check out what it was only to find her dead brother lying on the ground

For the first time since Nyleen had come to hell she cried

____

After falling, Duco landed in a sort of barren waste land

The first thing he saw when he came to was someone in front of him crying

Not knowing who it was he instantly tried to comfort them

That was until he heard that someone utter “Uco” (pronounced “you-co”)

He instantly recognized the name and replied “Nyl”? (Pronounced “Nile”)

He started to cry as well

After a while of them sitting there crying, embracing each other in a desperate hug, they were approached by a group of demons

They proclaimed themselves as the “council” and demanded that Duco would be sent to the camp

Nyleen obviously defended him, threatening them with her power, ready to tear each one limb from limb until they said that if they died or if she didn’t follow, they would call down the angels to finish him (Duco) off

(Angels and demons have no differences in their power levels but Nyleen knew that her power and respect would not last against both the angels and the “Council’s” group)

Nyleen only agreed with the condition that she would go as well

The council instantly agreed with the thought of getting rid of one of the most prominent and powerful figures in hell, giving them more power

Jokes on them, Nyleen got out on her own accord so she’ll do the same, just with her brother this time

__________

Additional details

The names Satan and Angel are titles, not beings or levels of powers

The title is given to the being with the most territory, followers/people, reputation, etc.

Like basically the person with the biggest, strongest mafia

Nyleen being Nyleen gains the attention of Satan who later approaches her, befriends her, and acts as her stand-in father

Meanwhile in heaven, before Duco gets kicked, he manages to gain the attention of Angel who also approaches and befriends him and acts as his stand-in mom

Names will be given later their names are N O T Angel and Satan. Those are just titles

Oh also….mom…. Dad….. hint hint

Oh also btw, both Angel and Satan are men. Not bc of the whole women are weaker sh1t but bc I want s o m e sort of gay in here bc I can（╹◡╹)

Also

The scars on Duco and Nyleen are indications of how they died…. Or at least show the wounds they had as they died

Duco’s scar across his cheek is from being thrown into the ground and heavily scraping his face

He also died from blunt force trauma to the head

Also if we wanna have more angst we can say that the bullies dunno that Duco was dead, so they taunted Nyleen about why he no longer came to school which drove her even closer to insanity

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petroltogo · 2 years

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Let's talk flip a coin 'verse because I finally figured out what's going on with Takeshi in this world and there's no way any of it is gonna make it into the current (or even the next, probably) instalment but I need to write it down somewhere:

Takeshi is born to a super father with a reputation dangerous enough that when he lays down his sword for the sake of his family, no one is willing to provoke him into picking it back up again, and a civilian mother with a sharp tongue and a kind smile.

But what defines Takeshi's life more than his parents' happy marriage and calm, largely uneventful life is that he is born human.

It's rare for a child of a super to not be super as well. Rare but not impossible. And if Tsuyoshi breathes a sigh of relief at the revelation, well, a father can be forgiven for not wishing to burden his child with the bloodshed he carries in his veins.

[For the Yamamotos are gifted killers, always have been. What few people ever have paid enough attention to realize is that gifts aren't genetically inherited and yet every Yamamoto proves himself capable beyond what a super's enhanced abilities can explain and so maybe gift has never been the right word for it.]

"Be sure, very sure of what you do before you father a child," Tsuyoshi's father told him back when he was young and far too confident, high on the bloodlust that lives in his heart. "Blood wins out. They'll be a natural born killer and no lie you tell yourself will change that."

But Takeshi is as human as they come and Tsuyoshi thanks the gods every day for the miracle they have granted him, a loophole he hadn't known he was searching for.

Takeshi is seven years old on the way back from the grocery store with his mother when they get accosted by three robbers. He is seven years old when he grabs a small stone from the ground and throws it with deadly accuracy at one of the man's heads.

Takeshi is seven years old the first time he kills someone.

[They'll be a natural born killer, whispers Tsuyoshi's father into his mind that night and who says that humans can't be monsters too?]

It's a game Takeshi has been playing for as long as he can remember: look at a person he crosses on the street, a classmate, a customer of his parents and figure out the easiest way to kill them. He doesn't, of course, because his mother doesn't like the sight of blood and his father always says that murder is a cheap cheatcode and Takeshi doesn't like to cheat. But.

It takes effort, is the thing. Not killing doesn't come natural to him.

After middling through highschool Takeshi gets a job as a salesman who maybe spends more time terrifying than charming his customers into buying anything they don't need. Only the ones who annoy him though.

[Sometimes he looks at the news playing out on a nearby screen where they show footage of another violent battle between Vongola Inc.'s forces and a supervillain that went too far and Takeshi watches them. Thinks of how easy it would be to kill that villain and kill them better than the supposed professionals do.]

[Sometimes Takeshi hates being just human.]

Takeshi is twenty-five when his mother is killed in one of the super riots and a paper-thin leash he hadn't even been aware of holding him back snaps for good. He is twenty-five when he meets a man with eyes like cracking flames who gives him something to kill for. But that's a story for another time.

#ReRe rambles #ReRe writes #flip a coin 'verse #flip a coin verse #headcanon #Yamamoto Takeshi #Yamamoto Tsuyoshi #background information #world building #superhero and supervillain au

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youraverageauthor · 1 year

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The loophole

I didn’t want it to end like this nor did I expect this. All of this could have been avoided but here I am lying down into a grass field while bleeding to death. All of this started because of him. The man who killed my friends. Me and my friends Rin, Agathi and Fay had just returned from a quest. We had defeated a dragon and now we went to a nearby city to rest for the day. My friends went and booked a room in the inn to rest. I took a walk around the city. It was a peaceful day. I wanted to surprise my squad with some sweets after managing to complete such a quest and winning so many golden coins. I went to the local bakery of the town and purchased some baked goods and a cake.

As I was returning to the inn a strong smell of iron was surrounding the air. No one was at the reception, so I quickly ran to our room in the inn. The door was broken, I found my entire squad dead and a man was just standing there, hysterically laughing. I quickly ran away, I didn't have the courage to fight him. I was ashamed of myself for not attacking him right there but I just couldn’t. I swore that I’d take my revenge, I wouldn’t let him live after killing the people that I cared about.

I was left with my lute, two golden coins and the baked goods. I went to a tavern and sat there, trying to figure out how to kill him. I decided to go back to the room we booked in the inn and there was a commotion. The bodies of my dead friends were taken outside for investigation. I went inside and grabbed everything that I could. Some daggers, a sword, some bottles with poison and a small sack filled with golden coins. Some officers tried to interrogate me but I ran away. I had to find him. If only I had returned earlier my friends could have lived…

I was searching for clues about him, luckily I knew what he looked like. Weeks had passed, I visited a lot of towns and villages but I couldn't find any clues. I began to lose hope but then an old lady told me to follow her. She invited me to her house and started telling me about the man. Turns out I wasn't the only one who seeked vengeance, a lot of people did but nobody had the courage to kill him. The lady told me that the man could be found at an abandoned village. I was determined to get there and thanks to the kind old lady I knew the directions. I stayed at her house for the night before beginning my journey to the abandoned village.

I was ready, my inventory was full of different types of daggers and thanks to a wizard the bottles of poison that I was carrying were turned into potions that would hurt him. That man deserved the worst, I won’t only execute him for the death of the people that I cared about, but also for all those poor people that weren’t brave enough to seek their revenge. After a while I found myself in the abandoned city. Every house was covered with tree branches, the roads were surrounded by grass. The place was quite peaceful, you wouldn’t expect to find a killer here. I was slowly walking around trying to find him, without being noticed.

I saw someone in the corner of my eye, I was sure it was him so I followed the person. I followed them out of the city, I saw who the person was. It was him, it was as if he knew I was there. He stopped at an area that was surrounded by grass and a lot of trees. I took out a dagger from my pocket and I attacked him. He surprisingly dodged it and then turned around to look at me. I was shocked, he knew that I was here. He was holding an axe and he was ready to attack, I took out my sword and charged at him. I successfully attacked him but it wasn’t a deep cut. The fight continued for a while, I couldn't land an attack on him and it was getting harder and harder to dodge him. I already had a cut in my arm. He sprinted closer to attack me but I threw a potion at him, it didn’t seem to budge him. I screamed “Why did you kill them?!” . He didn’t reply and just looked at me with a big smile on his face. I was so furious that I threw a dagger at him. He looked at me with an expression of shock , he was injured near the stomach. My energy was being drained as the battle took on, I was injured and so was he. He managed to take my bag and throw it away. I was only left with my sword and he only had an axe. I was severely injured and I didn’t know if I’d make it. I managed to stab him, but he only removed my sword from his chest and stabbed me in the stomach. He proceeded to remove the sword before dying.

I knew that I wouldn’t manage to live, I was slowly walking away. Tears were filling my eyes, I was glad that I managed to kill him, I didn't have the energy to walk anymore so I laid down on the grass field. I smiled knowing that I was going to see my friends. I didn’t feel any pain, only the breeze of the air. I was smiling as I left my final breath before following my friends. The grass covered me.

#writing #newwritersclub #bard mc #fighting #death involved #writing prompt

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yourlocalcoffee0330 · 1 year

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POST-MORTEM: Chapter 1

Hi I have a little story I wanna post here and I have no idea if it’ll do any good I just wanna use the tumble with all my friends,,, anyway lemme know what you hate or like about it. I plan to post some more recent writings soon so hopefully it’ll be a little less poopy stinky doodoo

In the afterlife, we have an expression. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before. That expression is “unfinished business.” Every ghost I’ve met has uttered that phrase at least once. They die and find out that because they have a score to settle, they can’t pass on before seeing things through. The tricky part is that- if someone is killed- most of that unfinished business has a lot to do with someone’s murder. And things get even more muddled when you factor in the fact that ghosts who were murdered lose their memories. They’re amnesiacs, and in order to pass on they first have to fix that. They need to figure out who their killer is and ensure that they’re brought to justice.

I’ve been dead for twenty years, and I’ve spent all those years trapped in purgatory. I can’t find my killer. I’ve seen my corpse in police departments, my identity in newspapers, and I’ve even visited my own grave. The amnesia isn’t gone, but I at least know who I am. I’ve made it over that hurdle, but the reason why I’m still here is because I’m one of seven people killed by perhaps the most cautious murderer of this century. I’ve had to watch as six other men and women were slain. Meanwhile I twiddled my thumbs, just as clueless as anyone living or dead as to who this person was.

I haven’t exactly been doing nothing since I rediscovered who I was, though. The afterlife has “jobs.” They’re typically simple, and just a way for lost souls to pass time. Just as the living has mediums, we do as well. We can manipulate the mortal realm in small ways- moving things, speaking through electronics, typical ghost stuff- but the only way to directly communicate is to hire a medium on our side to commune with one on the other. Mortals think they found a loophole for this with ouija boards, but the truth is most ghosts don’t seriously bother with them. Most of the time you either get ghosts spelling out nonsense like a supernatural prank call, or a demon.

Pretty much the only other jobs include comforting those who have just arrived without memories, helping others plan how they’ll complete their final task to pass on, or simply helping new arrivals find their way. As for me, I’m a detective. I help amnesiacs remember who they are, and use the knowledge of the police as well as my own work to figure out who killed them. I help other people pass on with the hope I can help myself one day. Through my work I’ve met the other six victims. They had each come into my office with a case they had said was a difficult one. They heard I was the best in the field, and hoped I would be able to help them. Then they realized they had seen my face in the news, and they realized quickly that I was just as clueless as they were.

It was the same business as usual today. I was walking to my office, prepared to take on a case that I had a much better chance of solving. Purgatory is a rather interesting place. There’s this white light at the “beginning” of it where the newly departed show up. From there it’s a large hallway, with rooms on either side for each soul. My office is the eight millionth, four hundred and seventy-eight thousandth, five hundred and fortieth room on the left side. The hall is endless in nature in the sense that it grows constantly as new souls arrive, and shrink as old ones leave. However it does have an end. There’s an elevator shaft at the very end of the corridor. Only works for those who have everything in order and are able to go to the other side without leaving any matters behind. People think it leads to whatever afterlife awaits us on the other side, and frankly I agree. Where else would it go, after all?

“Cyrus!”

I hear a shrill voice call my name from behind, so I turn around. A little boy ran up and hugged my leg. This was Joshua, a kid who’s been here even longer than I have. He’s a good kid. One of the first people I met here. He calls me his best friend, and I like that. He was the victim of a hit-and-run, from what he’s told me. His killer has been just as evasive as mine, but I’ve sworn to find that piece of trash before dealing with the guy that sent me here.

“Hey, kiddo,” I reply, patting him on the head.

“Gonna solve a mystery today?” he asked, letting go of me.

I turned around, entering the room that was designated to me. I began fumbling with the folder I had on the table, filled with currently unsolved cases. “That’s the plan.”

“Okay. Good luck!”

He smiled up at me as I selected the case I would be working on today. Some poor old lady who still doesn’t know her own name. Joshua ran off, and I exited my office as well. I don’t spend much time there. I’m mostly just around to think or get a new case. Or sleep, though I don’t have much time to. Thankfully ghosts don’t need to sleep, though sometimes one can get in a “sleepy” mood.

I came to the old woman’s room- Room 5,887,633 R- and knocked on the door. She opened it, smiled, and welcomed me in. It looked about what you’d expect a grandmother’s house to look like. The center of a room held a chair for her and a chair for a guest, separated by a low coffee table with a lower compartment for magazines (yes, ghosts have their own magazines) and novellas for light reading. Beneath the whole furniture set was a circular tapestry adorned with a faintly-colored red and blue pattern orbiting a big purple ball. The tapestry was faded, as if it had endured decades of use; aged just like the old soul who owned it. The walls were adorned with mounted shelves covered end-to-end with tea sets, porcelain dolls, and potted plants beginning to overgrow their small homes and dangle over the walls. It sounds strange when I describe it, but there’s this cozy charm to it, the kind only a grandmother’s cottage can have. I sat in the guest’s designated seat, sinking into the well-worn cushions. My client sat across from me.

“Thank you for coming to help me, detective. Can I get some tea for you?”

“You recall how to make it? When I left yesterday we couldn’t even figure out your name.”

“Oh, I’ve been doing those mental exercises like you asked. My mind is starting to come back in bits and pieces. Just like you said, my memories aren’t gone, just lost. One of the things I’ve recalled since yesterday is how to make tea.”

“Alright, then. I could go for some tea.”

She smiled and rose eagerly to her feet. A small countertop with a heater and kettle manifested itself in the room’s corner as she walked there. I observed her closely; her technique, what all she incorporated into the blend. She came back over with a tea set, laying it down on the coffee table and pouring us both a cup. I held my serving, waiting for it to cool, and continued our conversation.

“So my exercises were helpful. What all have you remembered since yesterday? Anything that could help us?”

“Well, I remember a bit about a house I lived in. It was hard to reach the countertops in my memory, so it must’ve been my childhood home. It was a small place, it was made out of bricks and overlooked a large river. The name of the town is on the tip of my tongue. Goodness, what was its name…”

“No need to stress over that now,” I replied, finally taking a sip of my tea. “Names usually come last during recollection.” I took another sip of the tea, admiring the taste. It had a rather sweet taste, underscored by a savoriness that calmed the otherwise aggressive flavoring. In life I could vaguely recall having a similar-tasting blend during a vacation in a certain seaside country. “This is a Frelan blend, if that helps at all.”

Her eyes went wide a little bit when I mentioned Frela. Seems like I jogged her memory with that remark. “Very good,” she said. “You know your tea, then.”

I nodded. I drank a lot of tea back when I was alive. Personally, I never got the appeal of coffee. Even now that I no longer have to eat or drink I still find myself enjoying tea. “That does help, though,” she continued. “I believe I did live there. I remember it being a very beautiful country. I’m certain I spent almost my whole life in the town I grew up in for that very reason. Oh, but the name…”

“Again, no need to worry about that. We’ve narrowed down what country I need to work in, and I have a good idea as to what the town looks like. That’s enough for me to do my job.”

“Well alright then, dear. Thanks again for helping me.”

“No need to thank me. It’s the right thing to do, after all.”

I tipped my hat slightly, and headed out the door. As I twisted the doorknob, I visualized Frela, and once I left the room I was there. As a ghost, all you have to do to enter the mortal world is visualize where you want to go. The only trick is that you need to have a pretty good recollection. Because of this I visualized an image of a monument to some saint I saw some years back. It’s a pretty distinct place, so I use it anytime I need to travel to Frela. Once I arrived, I found myself phasing through a myriad of people. The statue was particularly crowded today. Of course, none of them saw me. This makes communicating without a medium pretty difficult, but for the most part I actually think this is convenient.

I was looking for a relatively quiet town, close to a river. Frela was an oceanside country; it was close to sea level, so it had a bunch of lakes and rivers. So, I’d focus mostly on just finding small towns. I spent most of the day doing just that, exploring the country and taking note of the small towns I found which had lakes. By sundownI was satisfied with my search, so I returned to the old woman’s room. It’s the same affair getting to the spirit world as it is to the mortal one; you just have to picture it and you’re there.

Again, I knock on the door, and again she answers.

“No luck on your name,” I say, “but I do have some candidates for the town you lived in.”

I listed off the names I had compiled, until she stopped me at the forth one: Barnice. “That’s it,” she told me. “I lived in Barnice.”

“Alright then. I’ll know your name the next time I come back.” She smiled and nodded, and with that, I left again.

This time I paid a visit to the town’s police station. I made sure to figure out where the police station was in each town I searched in order to go in and look for my client’s identity. I went inside, and began looking for any picture of my client. Buildings are tricky to deal with as a ghost. You can enter them just fine, but oftentimes there’s something there that keeps you from manipulating things. Some people paint the roofs of their balconies blue because they believe spirits can’t cross water. We can, but because the act is protective in nature, it still keeps us from messing with things inside. To bypass that, you need to be talked about by the people inside; that’s what gives you power. But I don’t have to worry about that; I’m just here for information.

I scoured the precinct, looked through all the bulletin boards and office spaces I could find. Eventually I found her picture in a small stack of evidence. The detective working the case seemed invested, typing away furiously at his keyboard. It looked like the case was in good hands, but I’m convinced I could do better. My informant’s the victim, after all. Behind the detective’s desk was a corkboard with a bunch of papers and pictures, with strings connecting each thing to another. This kid’s work ethic and office made me peg him as the type who joined the force because he watched a lot of detective movies when he was little. Then he became a detective himself, realized it wasn’t like the movies, and acted like a movie detective in spite of that. The little plaque on his desk read Parker Jones. Felt fitting for a detective. Maybe his parents were in on that dream of his, too. That wasn’t the name I was looking for, though. The name I was looking for was… Barbera Lewis, according to the autopsy report. Mission accomplished, at least for now. I returned to the good old hallway to nowhere, and returned to her room with more good news.

“Hello again, Miss Barbera Lewis,” I said, feigning nonchalance. She looked at me, obviously confused, but when she realized I was referring to her, her eyes widened. Again, it looked like I found the right name. She held her head for a moment, but looked back up at me and spoke.

“My… I- don’t remember everything, but that name certainly sparked a lot of memories, my boy.”

I nodded. “You won’t get everything back just from hearing your name. I’ve had twenty years to gather my memories and there are still things I don’t remember. But hopefully this is a start.”

“Well, it definitely is,” she responded with a smile. “Thank you, my boy. You’ve opened my eyes.”

“I’m glad. Now, regarding your death. It may take me a little while to figure out just who your killer was. I’m kind of backed up with clients right now. But you can trust me to find them.”

“Very well. Take your time, my boy. I’m sure there are clients of yours who have been here far longer than I have, so please have them pass on first.”

“Alright then, Miss Lewis.” I tipped my hat once again, and walked away.

“Oh, and another thing? Mister Detective?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“I’ve met many people here. Good people that I wouldn’t have met if I wasn’t murdered. I know my murderer was wrong for what they did, but part of me still thinks I should thank them for putting me here. Strange as that may sound. From the way you carry yourself, I can tell you think of this place as a curse. Remember that everything happens for a reason, Detective.”

“I think that’s where we disagree, ma’am But I’ll try my best to look at it that way.” I buried my hands in my pockets, and left, determined to find out just who would send such a sweet old lady to a place like this.

#short story #murder mystery #ghost #my writing #writing #sorry if this sucks I made this two years ago :(((#expect more chapters tho bc I really like this setting #I like writing this guy too he’s fun

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sierraraeck · 4 years

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Daylight

Spencer x GN! Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After a long time without answers and your relationship ending on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and can finally put things to rest. Part one.

The prompt from @veraiconcos Fic Writer Challenge was “If I asked you to stay, would you?” This is bolded within the fic.

Category: Angst. Just pure angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mention of normal CM stuff. Suggestive content.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This was initially a songfic and now it’s not, however it was still inspired by the song “Daylight” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Internal dialogue

Flashback

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

In one word, complicated.

Yes, that was a cliche and overused, but there was really no better way to describe your relationship with Spencer. Unless of course people preferred terms like arduous, intricate, convoluted, twisted, entangled, or your personal favorite, fucked up. Although, that might be a little harsh. Kind of. It was complicated.

And things continued on that path when you waltzed into the San Jose precinct, ready to defend your client against none other than the BAU.

Despite being 28, you were already one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state, and had already had a couple run-ins with the FBI. Luckily, none of those had been against the ‘all-powerful’ behavioral analysis unit, and you were able to wrangle out some wins, or at least, the best you could have hoped for given the circumstances. This time, a man, Brayden Lee, had been arrested as a suspect for a series of strangulations, all of the victims tall, blonde, college athletes. Looking over his case and the amount of evidence against him, you felt sure that you could manage a favorable deal.

But now, your strides faltered as you saw the team of profilers standing around in a circle, speaking in hushed voices, immediately turning around to watch you in. Well, it wasn’t necessarily them that teetered your confidence, it was more like him. And that damn hair.

You were at your older brother’s graduation. A small, skinny kid with moppy brown curls walked across the stage, the gown he was wearing clearly three sizes too big for him. He looked really young, about your age, which immediately interested you.

“Spencer Reid,” the announcer called. He accepted his diploma, moved his tassel from one side to the other, and plopped right back down in his seat.

You just stared at him from your place high up in the bleachers, almost missing your brother as he walked across the stage. You clapped and cheered, but you still couldn’t tear your eyes from the strange kid who’d walked across moments before him. When the ceremony was over, you asked your brother who he was, and all he gave you was a shrug and an arched eyebrow. That was not exactly the answer you were looking for. So you took it upon yourself, being the awkwardly brave kid you were at 12, to find him and learn more. You ended up taking him home after the ceremony, and that was that. You still remember the dopey smile he gave you as he hopped out of the backseat, a smile that you would miss for three more years.

You tried to compose yourself as you avoided eye contact with any of them, marching toward the interrogation room to have some time alone with your client. But it had never been this hard to concentrate before.

Snap out of it. It’s been four fucking years, six if you really think about it, so you need to get it together. This man, the one right in front of your face, needs your help.

So you did just that. As a lawyer, you had to have intense focus, so you made yourself hone in on that skill. The two older men of the team came in to have quite the nice chat with you and your client, but it ended fairly close to how you predicted. He would be let off, for now, but you would have to stay on call in case they found more evidence of your client’s guilt. You ushered Brayden out of the station and into a cab, telling him that you’d be in touch if anything else came up and to keep a low profile.

You were ready to be done, but had to make sure there weren’t any other loopholes or things they weren’t telling you before you could leave. You trudged back into the precinct, expecting to talk to the two men you saw earlier, but found that once-nerdy boy you used to know waiting for you. Not to say he wasn’t still nerdy, you were sure he was, but he’d definitely changed since the last time you saw him.

You tried to act as professional as possible, “Is there anything else that I need to know about this case and your evidence against my client?” Honestly, you were shocked at how calm your voice sounded.

“As long as you’ve heard about his recent purchases and easy access to the material used to strangle these women, no,” he responded, just as casually.

“Okay great, and nothing else in the profile I should be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then,” you said, turning on your heels to walk out.

“That’s it?” Spencer’s tone suddenly sounded confused, even accusatory, which was such a stark contrast to the smoothe, gentle voice you remembered.

You were at the local library studying for your midterms before the holiday break. No one really went there anymore, and there were a ton of good research tools available, so it was the perfect quiet study spot. Well, mostly quiet, that was, until the ever-so-irritating ping of books being checked out was going off non-stop. You’d had enough, so you shot over your shoulder, “Jesus, how many books do you need?”

The pinging immediately stopped, and you heard a small, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lot, but something about that voice seemed familiar. You turned fully around to see those piercing gold eyes staring at you, and you recognized those curls.

“No way. You’re the kid who graduated high school at age twelve! I remember you,” you blurted before really thinking.

“Yeah. Hey (y/n),” he said.

“I’m so sorry I snapped at you like that…”

“Spencer,” he filled in, after hearing you hiss like a snake, trying to jog your memory of his name.

“Spencer! Sorry about that, I’m just kinda stressed about my exams,” you explained.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Spencer replied, gesturing to his ever-growing pile of books.

You inquired about how things were going for him, and he told you all about how his first year and a half in college had been, already obtaining his bachelor’s in mathematics.

“That’s so impressive. Think you could help me?” you said in a somewhat mocking tone.

Of course, he took you seriously, not picking up on the half-joke. “Sure.”

Although, you were thrilled he offered, and the two of you spent the next couple of hours talking about high school and college classes, your seemingly easy math compared to his, and him helping you with any other subject you needed help with, like AP biology and psychology. At the end of the night, you gave him your phone number, trying to cover up your little crush with a joke about needing his help as you rushed out into the freezing night air.

He never used it.

“Yeah. That’s it,” you shot over your shoulder.

“(y/n), hold on, I-” he started.

“Doctor Reid, they need you in the conference room,” some lady said. Now that caught your attention. You spun back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes flitted between you and the lady who told him he was needed.

“What are you waiting for, Doctor,” you sneered. He let out a sigh, giving you one last pointed look before turning away. You didn’t even know people called him ‘doctor’ now.

You returned home, hoping that the case would get cleared up easily, that they’d find a different culprit and you wouldn’t have to risk that floodgate of emotions bursting open. No such luck. They found Brayden at the scene of the crime, literally in the middle of digging up an old victim to do god knows what with, and took him back into custody. When you got back to the precinct, you told your client not to say a word, and asked what the charges were and if he was going to be transferred in the meantime. The answers to your questions were not in your favor, and you had one of the worst client-lawyer conversations you'd ever experienced. The man wouldn’t tell you a damn thing, and if he didn’t tell you anything, then you couldn’t help him. Of course, it was your job to try and help him as best as you could, but you whole-heartedly believed he was guilty too, which didn’t help you keep the right mindset. Plus, your heart was pounding into your ears for more reasons than being across the table from a serial killer.

Focus, please, you begged yourself. And you did, for a while, but it became a futile effort. At one point you just wanted to say ‘fuck this shit, lock him up’ and leave, you were that desperate.

When it was all over and the station was getting everything together in order to transfer him to a holding facility, you tried to slip out the doors and wait outside. Only moments after, though, you heard the door squeak back open.

“(y/n),” Spencer started.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly interjected. You had been contemplating for the last day or so if you needed to apologize, and just figured you would, if not for your sake, for your clients’. I mean, they would probably end up testifying at some point, not like that was the main thought going through your mind, but you convinced yourself it was. “I shouldn’t have conducted myself like that earlier. It was unprofessional and you were just trying to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it,” he acknowledged.

“Probably, but that’s all in the past and I should have left it there,” you concluded. You both stood in absolute silence until it became too much to bear. You decided you’d at least try to act natural, “So how have things been since the last time I saw you?”

Spencer looked at you with surprised eyes, but answered with, “They’ve been interesting. There always seems to be a new case. How about you?”

“Same. Just one after the other, but it’s nice knowing I’m helping people,” you added.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Come on, what else can you throw out there? “Uh, so, they call you ‘doctor’ now?”

He offered a small laugh. “Yeah, they do. When I started, you know, I was much younger than anyone else in the bureau-”

“Still are,” you interjected.

He continued, “-true, but one of my mentors, who’s gone now, told people to call me that and I guess it just stuck.”

“Well, it sounds nice.”

“Thanks. I hear you are doing pretty well yourself, getting national mentions and such,” he stated.

You raised your eyebrows, “You heard about that?” A year or so back you got recognized as the top rising talent in your field of work, but you didn’t think that news would make it to the other coast. Unless he was specifically looking for that information…

“Yeah, I did. The FBI likes to keep tabs on people that might cause them the most trouble in a case, you being one of them.”

“Seriously?” You were astonished. The FBI was keeping tabs on you? “Why?”

“Just in case they get tired of opposing you and would rather work with you,” he shrugged, “But you seem to be having fun opposing right now.”

You let a smile reach the surface at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m a profiler. Plus, you’ve always had a thing for opposing the ‘overbearing’ power and sticking up for the little guy.”

That was a little too close to home. You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and you couldn’t help but think about that god-awful night when you were just two kids trying to take a walk in the moonlight. The night that solidified your friendship.

It happened so fast. All you did was walk away for a second to throw your trash away, but that was all it took for the boys to pounce. Spencer had been attending CalTech for three years, and you were there to pop into the chemistry class, which you conveniently had with Spencer. Those other 20 year olds hated you and Spencer for the sole reason that you were two nerdy 17 year olds that were making them look bad. They’d already gotten in a few good punches before you returned, but when you did, you were livid. They were holding Spencer up while taking turns at him. You worked quickly, setting your phone to record before stepping in between one of the boys and Spencer. You hadn’t intended on getting caught in the crossfire, but you did, landing yourself a pretty bruise on your cheek for the next two weeks. You yelled at them about how they were assaulting a minor and how you now had all of their faces on tape, along with some other legal shit. One of them smashed your phone and went for another punch, but you kicked him in the throat before he could get to you, putting him flat on his ass. He tapped out, and you later found out he’d gotten whiplash from how he landed on the ground. They ran off, and when you turned around, Spencer collapsed in your arms. He was littered with cuts, blood, and already developing bruises. You took him back to his dorm and cleaned him up, spending the night before figuring out how to recover the footage. Once you did, you showed it to the board members, effectively expelling the boys and bringing them up on charges for assault. They got convicted, and no one screwed with either of you again. That was the moment you really decided to become a lawyer.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you murmured. Brayden was brought out in cuffs and shoved into the back of a squad car, which was your cue to get moving. You had a full case on your hands.

You turned to leave, but as you did, Spencer stopped you. “Hey, would you maybe want to catch up later?”

You didn’t remember him ever being so bold before, and were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled out, “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just … coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” you said, and immediately saw Spencer’s shoulders relax. “Do you still remember where Arnette’s is?”

“Of course,” he responded. That used to be your favorite go-to spot.

“Alright then. I should be done with this at around eight,” you said, hopping into your car before he could respond. The officer with Brayden had already sped away, and you needed to stay close behind.

The whole drive you kicked yourself for saying yes. You were getting over him. You had gotten over him. And you loved Jordan and couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow betraying him. Plus, why should you be meeting him to catch up? He hadn’t been interested in that for five years! I mean, you put everything into making your relationship work. Sure, you were realistic that it wouldn’t last, but he could have at least tried.

You had it planned out. You would keep in touch until you could go out and visit him during the summer for Fourth of July during your sophomore year of college. The next year, he’d visit you, and the one after that, you’d visit him and so on. But that was the problem. There was no ‘so on.’ You visited him for the second time and that was it. And pretty soon, you could barely get him to pick up the damn phone. The last thing you heard from him was that he was pretty busy starting out with the BAU, along with an unanswered text wondering how his first case went.

But, you already agreed, so you might as well just see what happens.

You threw on some nice, non-work clothes and drove to the little shop on the corner. God you felt like a teenager.

It was just before eight and Spencer was already there waiting for you. Of course he was.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was supposed to be two people who used to care about each other, and honestly still do, just catching up. Simply talking. About the present, no need to worry about the past.

“Hey, (y/n).” You always liked the way he said your name with welcoming confidence.

“Hey,” you replied. He opened the door for you and you shuffled in. With no surprise, you were the only two in there, and he went ahead and ordered for both of you, remembering what you wanted with ease. You gave him a bit of a confused look as you waited for your drinks.

“What?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable by your staring.

“Nothing, it’s just that you remember my order, that’s all.”

“I do have a really good memory,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but you also told me once that that only went for visuals, and your eidetic memory didn’t really work on audio,” you quipped.

“That’s true. I guess some things just stick. Plus, it’s not like you made it hard on me. You always ordered the same thing.”

You laughed a little, “I guess that’s true.”

You grabbed your drinks and left the hole-in-the-wall, autopilot kicking in, taking you both along the path that went around the park. Spencer sighed.

“Hm?” you questioned.

“Just, you know, thinking,” he said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“How we used to do this all the time. You’d finish your high school classes, drive over to CalTech for chemistry, and then afterward we’d stop by for coffee and a walk,” his voice sounded like he was in a dream, and he looked into the night air as if there was some answer or memory floating around out there. You guessed there was a memory floating around out here.

“Yeah those were crazy years,” you recalled. “I felt like I was constantly on the move and everything was happening all at once and I had all of this stuff I needed to get done. But this was always a nice place where I could clear my head and forget all of that.” That feeling was starting to return as you kept walking, the sticky air of California clinging to your skin.

“It was nice. I miss those days sometimes,” he said.

What is he getting at? “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You walked in silence for a while, but you could see Spencer’s posture tense up more with each step. There was something on his mind and he wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he acted bewildered.

“What’s on your mind?” He tried to shrug it off and deny it, but you knew him better than that. It might have been a while, but some things, like he said, just stick. And the way his body acted when he was thinking was one of them. “Don’t even try that. I know when there is something bothering you, now out with it.”

“Who is it?” That was all he offered and it was your turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

“Who has the other one?” he said, voice a bit harsher than before, motioning to the gold ring around your finger.

“His name is Jordan.”

“Jordan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What does he do?” Spencer inquired.

“He’s also a lawyer. We actually met in law school,” you answered somewhat hesitant. You still didn’t know what he was getting at, if anything.

“Oh. Nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your attitude starting to flare up.

“Absolutely nothing. Just not what I thought,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What did you think?” You were trying not to get offended by whatever he was implying, but you couldn’t help it. He asks me to catch up just to make passive aggressive criticisms?

“I don’t know. Not that, I guess.”

At this point, you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Well, you know, you could have changed that,” you replied in the same passive aggressive manner.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” his voice was raising, obviously picking up on what you were putting down.

“Uh, I don’t know, how about respond to one goddamned text?”

“I tried.”

“Not really. And then you just went dark,” you spat.

“You seemed to be fine with that. You moved on pretty quickly,” he hissed, not even bothering to look at you.

“Why do you think that is, genius? I visited you, and then you stopped answering my calls. You stopped responding to my texts. I basically never heard from you again, and then the next thing I know, your showing up on my fucking tv, in California for a case, and you don’t even reach out. You didn’t even ask to meet up anywhere, not even stop by to say hey. Nothing. You did nothing once your job swallowed you up whole. I know what that’s like and it’s hard, believe me, I’m a lawyer for Chrissake, but I found the time. Plus, for all I knew, you had already found someone else, so I wasn’t going to wait around for the guy who seemed to love me much less than I loved him.” By the end, you were yelling, and thanking the stars above you that no one was around to hear it.

“You’re right,” he whispered after a while.

You were stunned, and could only manage a small, “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “I should have put in more effort. I don’t know, (y/n), I wish I had a better answer for you but I don’t. I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I let my insecurities get in the way of us, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“What?” It was seriously the only thing going through your mind, however, you were able to force out, “Insecurities?”

“Yeah. I was worried that because I was away, you were going to tire of me, that you weren’t going to want to stay in a relationship. I thought that maybe, by being ‘tied’ to me, so to speak, that I was holding you back, which we promised each other we would never do. We said that we would never get in the way of the other’s dream, and I wondered if maybe I was going to do that to you. I just … I had all of these doubts, so I panicked. I stopped responding. And I was so wrong to do that.”

Now that he’d said them, they sounded like some of the same doubts he expressed to you the night before he left.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven, which means I have to be there by six, which means I have to be leaving here by four-thirty at the latest,” he recited. He had all of his stuff piled by the door, which was hardly anything at all. You were in his hotel room because his house was soon to be taken over by a young couple, since he’d be living in Massachusetts, and his mother was in a mental facility. You’d just come back from visiting her, which left Spencer in tears.

You ate dinner while playing chess, which he effectively beat you at. You were actually pretty good at it, but no match for his math-based brain. You snuggled into bed next to him, willing yourself to keep it together because the last thing you wanted to do was spend your last night with him an emotional wreck. He queued up a movie, but neither of you paid any attention to it. His arm was draped around your shoulders and yours were clasped around his waist.

Spencer’s hand lazily circled your back until it moved with purpose down to your thigh. He continued his lazy patterns when you looked up at him, a question in your eyes.

You’d been with Spencer for over a year, and recalled your first time. You were ready before he was, which came as no surprise, but that didn’t stop the nerves from racing through your head. But if you thought you were nervous, you had no idea what was going through Spencer’s head. He later told you that he was absolutely terrified because he didn’t want to do something wrong, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to think less of him because of his body style, and a million other things that he was scared about. That’s how you accidentally said the ‘L’ word. “Spencer Reid, I would never judge you and you could never scare me away. I love you and your body and your brain, and you are not going to do something wrong, not like I’d know because we are both new to this and are doing it together. Understand?”

He gave you a shy smile. “I do.”

Now though, it was very different. Comfortable, confident, safe.

“Can I have you?” he asked, “All of you, one last time?”

You leaned up to kiss him, and he sighed when you pulled away. You looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m all yours.”

And you were. You felt like you always had been and probably always would be, and could only hope that he felt a fraction of the same. Your bodies pushed and pulled in perfect unison, fitting together as if you were two pieces of a puzzle, specifically crafted for the other.

You returned to your curled up position beside him, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears silently flowed out of your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself peel your arms away from him long enough to wipe them away. You attempted to sob without making a sound, knowing that if Spencer saw you crying, it would make him cry, and he couldn’t cry because it would make you cry more, splitting you right in half. It didn’t matter how quiet you were being about it, because when you looked up at Spencer, you saw the same silent tears glistening on his cheeks. It was only then that you pulled your hands from around him and brushed away his tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” you apologized. “This is supposed to be exciting. You’re going to the best school in the country to get your PhD.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, moving his hands up and down your arms, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decision.”

This took you by surprise. He’d always seemed confident about this, passionate about furthering his education. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to complicate things for anyone. For my mother. For you.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You knew it was unfair, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The only thing you wanted to say. You needed him, and it was sickening wondering if soon, he might not need you. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, so you quickly covered it up with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You are about to start a whole new part of your life, and you should go, pursue your dreams with the best education this country can offer. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

You repositioned yourself back on his chest, and started to drift off to sleep when you felt him sigh. You lazily peered up at him, meeting his restless eyes. “Spence, you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep on the plane. I need this more,” he said, smiling at you. You tried to stay awake like you knew Spencer would, but to no avail. You did, however, wake up to him getting ready to leave. He kissed you goodbye, and you held yourself together until he’d walked out, the door shutting with a definite ‘click.’

All the air had been stripped from your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you’d never again without him by your side. You cried yourself back to sleep, willing this all to be one giant nightmare, but when you woke, he was gone. And you felt completely numb. So while you may have been two pieces of a puzzle, aiming to create the same beautiful picture, you no longer fit together.

You felt yourself starting to get flushed from constantly going in and out of anger then feeling bad and forgiving. It was exhausting, and probably part of the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you. That didn’t mean you loved him any less, though. He was, in fact, your first love, and you guess people were right about that stuff being more powerful and affecting you longer. Hell, you walked into the precinct for a total of three seconds before he was affecting you all over again!

You took a deep breath in before saying, “I guess we both made mistakes and wished we would have handled things differently.”

“What would you have handled differently?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“When I saw that you were in California for a case, instead of … doing what I did, I should have been the one who reached out. I could have just asked you then what was going through your mind and what was going on between us. Who knows how that might have changed things? But, I was petty,” you gave a cold laugh, “I guess I still am sometimes, huh?”

You had definitely been acting that way lately. You felt guilty and ashamed about it, but in that moment of anger four years ago, knowing that Spencer was out there ignoring you, you sent him a hurtful message and then blocked his number. Only a week or so prior, you’d met Jordan who was clearly hitting on you, and you were so firm about moving on that you asked him out. He eagerly agreed, and the rest was history. Or, at least, you thought was history.

Spencer shrugged and dodged the somewhat rhetorical question. “We can’t really dwell on that now.”

You knew he didn’t really mean that, considering he was the type of person who dwelled, but he was right. You were engaged to a great guy and soon to be married. This, Spencer, was something you were just going to have to come to terms with, something you realized you hadn’t come to terms with yet.

You’d been walking so absentmindedly next to him that you hardly noticed you were outside of a hotel. He stopped just outside the lobby entrance and turned to face you.

“Walk you to your room?” you offered. What the fuck did you just say? Why did you say that? You can’t say things like that. Stop it.

Spencer gave you that small, closed lip smile of his which immediately ended your inner scolding, and nodded, holding the door open for you. You walked up the stairs together in silence. When you reached his door, instead of getting out his card, he leaned his back up against the heavy wood.

“Alright, well, it was nice catching up, and I wish you safe travels in the morning,” you said, turning to leave. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks, and you spun around to face him.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” Those words pierced through your ears, ringing all too familiar from when it was you who said them.

“Spence-” you started. And then his lips were on yours. Those sweet, soft lips. It had always been so natural between the two of you, and you felt his tongue bypass yours as you pushed further into the kiss. Then you remembered where, and when, you were, no longer that hopelessly devoted kid but an adult with a wonderful man waiting for you when you got home. You pulled away. “Spence-”

“I would have said yes, you know,” he confessed. The question must have been etched on your face, because he continued, “When you asked me that night, given the chance, I would have said yes.”

His words stung, and your whole body ached from rehashing old feelings, to igniting new ones, to the guilt of what just happened weighing on you so heavily you might just crumble beneath it. You murmured out, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you were right. I thought I was doing the right thing. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the regrets I have, you, (y/n) (y/l/n), are my biggest one.” His honey brown eyes peered right into yours, like he was looking at something far greater than just your eyes, and repeated, “So right now, if I asked you to stay with me, would you?”

It was too much to handle. After all the time you’d spent wishing he was still yours, he finally could be, but you could no longer be his. Tears were streaming down your face as they once did, the first time you lost him, and you choked out, “I can’t.”

One More Night

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lovelyamneris · 3 years

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George + Jerry, “The art of not being an idiot is extremely challenging for me.”

I've been hoarding this ask in my inbox for God knows how long I'm so sorry anon. Then I wrote like three quarters of it and posted about that and was immediately hit with writer's block. Here's my attempt at trying to write more seinfeld content for you <3

[Ao3 Link] [Full Series]

It’s early on a Saturday and Monk’s diner bustles with its usual crowd of regulars. George and Jerry are sitting across from each other in a booth by the window; George with a strawberry pastry and hot coffee and Jerry working on his third consecutive double espresso.

Sun pours in and blankets their table with warm early morning light. It’s intimate; in the way that drinking coffee every day with your oldest friend is intimate once it's a routine.

“So do you think that’s funny?” Jerry is asking, doting over a notebook of incomprehensible scribbles, “Are people allowed to laugh at that sort of thing these days or would it be considered a mood killer?”

Jerry is pretty sure that the audience wouldn’t throw tomatoes at him like he’s in a bad Shakespearian play, but stranger things have happened.

George half shrugs, “I don’t know. How would I know?”

“Well, I assumed as a fellow human being you’d have an opinion.”

“Comedy is subjective.” George says waving him off, “Just improvise or something.”

“Surprisingly harder than you think.”

The last time Jerry tried to improvise on stage the only person in the audience laughing was Elaine. And technically she was laughing more at his expense than she was at the joke. Cue the metaphorical tomato throwing. Jerry stares at his notepad and pouts. Why is it so difficult to figure out if his joke is funny or not? Kramer laughed, but perhaps that’s a bad sign.

A moment passes and when he looks back up from his notepad George is about five shades paler. Jerry recognizes the look immediately. It’s the ghostly expression of a man doomed to come face to face with the consequences of his own actions. Never a good sign for George.

“What’s wrong?” Jerry asks. Despite the courtesy of asking the question, he doesn’t seem too concerned by George’s sudden change in demeanor. He’s used to George’s sudden waves of panic. It’s like his default.

“Does that look like Lindsay to you?” George’s voice cracks.

“Psycho sadist Lindsay?” Jerry looks around the diner theatrically, “The one who thinks you got wacked by the mob? Where?”

“In our booth by the door.”

From where they’re sitting, Jerry can only see the side of her head, but it’s definitely Lindsay. She seems a lot happier than he remembers. Back when she was with George, she always had the face of someone who’s just accidently bitten into a lemon. Kramer even called her lemon face once, which was an awful moment for everyone involved.

“That’s her alright.” Jerry confirms, “What do you think she’s doing here?”

“I have absolutely no idea!” George shrinks down in the booth to hide from her, “She knows I get the diner in the breakup. It’s part of our pre-breakup agreement!”

“Ah, the pre-breakup agreement. The prenup of the dating world.” Jerry nods understandingly, “While I’d usually agree with you on that, I think faking your own death gives her a loophole.”

“I died while we were together!” George counters, whisper yelling. He looks awfully frazzled and generally insane, “She’s basically my widow. How does she think you feel having to see my widow at your favorite diner? It’s outrageous!”

Jerry considers this. Ever since the infamous incident with the fancy plates, he’s instinctively crossed to the other side of the street when he’s seen her in public. He’s not sure he’d be able to hold it together if she asked him about his best friend and said best friend’s terrible fate at the hands of the mob. Cracking a grin would probably not be an acceptable response.

And George is technically right. If he was actually dead, Jerry wouldn’t want to see Lindsay at the diner. It would undoubtedly cause a chain of events starting with him thinking about George and moping around about it (Jerry’s not sure he’s capable of moping, but he’s too afraid to find out) and ending with him being all sad and ruining his comedy routine. How are you supposed to be funny when you’re busy thinking about your dead friend?

Jerry relents, “Well, I can’t argue with that logic.”

“What do I do?” George panics, shrinking further down in the booth, “She’s going to kill me, Jerry!”

“I think you’re overreacting. So what if psycho Lindsay sees you? It’s the nineties. Is a dead man not allowed to have a strawberry pastry without persecution?”

George deflates, “You’re not taking this seriously. Lindsay is going to kill me and you’re making your little jokes about it. Great. Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, it’s not like you didn’t bring this on yourself. Even Elaine said she knew this would come back to haunt you eventually. It’s about time you face the music.”

George doesn’t think that sounds appealing at all. He’s gone his whole life avoiding the music. Why should he face it now! In fact, only people who have given up in life subject themselves to the music. If you’re still alive and breathing then it’s your God given right to avoid the music.

“How does Elaine know about the fancy plates?”

“Kramer told her.”

“How did Kramer know?!”

“I told Kramer.”

And of course. Of course, everyone in filled in and up to date on George’s suffering. He shoots Jerry a scathing look and Jerry returns it with a lopsided teasing grin.

Jerry glances down at his empty cup of espresso and frowns. The whole lemon faced Lindsay debacle has distracted him from what’s most important. Caffeine. He’s sure that the waitress is avoiding him because George is causing a scene. Or maybe Jerry is being cut off like he’s a drunk at a bar. Are they allowed to cut you off from caffeine? Is there an unspoken caffeine limit that only waitresses and baristas know about? He decides to investigate further.

Just as he's about to signal for the waitress, Jerry makes eye contact with Lindsay. Her face drops and suddenly she has that lemon faced expression about her again. Uh oh. Lindsay says something to her friend and gets up from her seat, making her way across the diner and towards them.

Jerry gives an enthusiastic wave, the type of wave that you’d give an old friend you’re seeing for the first time in a while. After all, Lindsay was always friendly to him. And she was one of George's most humor-inclined girlfriends! Maybe she'd be able to tell him if the joke was funny or not.

George stares at him in horror, “What? What’s happening?”

“Buck up, buddy, looks like she’s coming over.”

George makes a face like he’s been hit by a bus, but he defeatedly slides back up in his seat. Suddenly Lindsay is beside their booth, arms crossed.

“So, I’m guessing this is a Weekend at Bernie’s situation?” She asks. Jerry appreciates her humor. She seems pretty chill for someone who just found out that her boyfriend has risen from the dead.

“Good guess.” Jerry says conversationally, “Actually, George was getting too cramped in his coffin. He doesn’t do well in small spaces and decided to call the whole death thing off. Good idea if you ask me, the whole funeral thing is always a bit too theatric in my opinion. Like we get it. You're dead. Move on."

“Real classy.” Lindsay shoots back, but Jerry can tell that she liked the joke, “By the way George, I knew it wasn’t real when I called your parents to offer my condolences and your dad laughed at me. Anything to say about that?”

George shrugs, the gig is up as they say, “Admittedly, the art of not being an idiot is extremely challenging for me.”

Lindsay rolls her eyes, "You know what, I don't care." She heads back over to her friend and doesn't look back.

“Huh. She took that pretty well.” Jerry says when Lindsay is out of ear shot, “The way you talk about her I assumed her reaction would’ve been far more deranged.”

“Trust me,” George says seriously, “If you weren’t here she would’ve unhinged her jaw and swallowed me whole like a snake.”

“Too bad. I would’ve liked to see that.”

Finally, the waitress comes back over and Jerry orders another espresso. He considers his joke again.

“Should I ask Lindsay if she thinks the joke’s funny?” Jerry asks seriously. Lindsay is still sitting across the diner with her friend, “I need a woman’s perspective.”

George shrugs, “Jerry, I’m telling you right now, just improvise. Or do the lifeguard bit again. It’s your best.”

#seinfeld #seinfeld fanfic #prompt requests #ao3 tag

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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Yesterday (March 3) marked 30 years since the infamous beating of Rodney King by the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) was caught on film for the world to see. Decades before cell phone footage would capture the horrific slaughter of Black Americans such as Philando Castile, Eric Garner, George Floyd and Alton Sterling, a grainy camcorder clip of four LAPD officers hammering King 56 times with batons and kicking him repeatedly, reopened old wounds in a nation that figured itself healed from racially-motivated police violence that seemed to be it at its maximum amid the Civil Rights era.

The following year the four officers who were filmed beating King were acquitted of all criminal charges, sparking the Los Angeles riots of 1992. Black citizens of Los Angeles took out decades of frustration of being over and aggressively policed and racially profiled in a stretch of days that resulted in numerous businesses being vandalized and decimated, and the kind of chaos that ensues when a people’s cries for justice are ignored.

Excessive police violence against Black communities did not dwindle in the decades that separated the beating of Rodney King from the emergence of the movement for Black lives. An evolution in technology would ultimately allow citizens to capture the violence in surround sound and high definition. We have held a bird’s eye view of state-sanctioned executions literally in the palm of our hands.

Over the past three decades, our community would learn a great deal about how the legal system would find loopholes for these incidents of violence, and be re-introduced to the power of our advocacy. The following are but a few examples of things we have come to know in our fight against police brutality, 30 years after one of the most publicized examples in American history.

Qualified immunity: The phrase “qualified immunity” has been introduced into the vocabulary of social justice advocates over the past several years, as it has been a legal statute that many have fought to eliminate. Qualified immunity protects a government official from lawsuits alleging that the official violated a plaintiff's rights, only allowing suits where officials violated a “clearly established” statutory or constitutional right. The slippery slope for prosecutors in these civil cases is the burden of proof that an officer did indeed violate a victim’s constitutional right. In more instances than not, criminal charges brought against police that kill Black people do not stick, so the families of the (often) deceased only hope of any semblance of justice comes in the form of civil suits.

This is why there’s a consistent push by activists and civil rights attorneys to end qualified immunity. The protection it provides essentially strips grieving families of any chance of seeing the killer of their loved one being held accountable for their actions.

The use of “Reasonable Fear’ as defense: Two landmark Supreme Court decisions, Tennessee v. Garner and Graham v. Connor. established the legal precedent that police officers could lawfully use deadly force if they deemed the situation they encountered to be a ‘reasonable’ threat. This defense has been utilized in some of the most high-profile cases of police violence, as it reinforces the stereotype of Black folk as uncontrollable lawless savages. Whether it was a Black motorist heading home, a Black child playing in a park or a Black son returning from a dentist appointment, the argument of the threatening Black human has been used by individual officers and police unions to justify acts of violence. The LAPD officers involved in the beating of Rodney King used his intoxication and alleged aggressive resistance as their rationale for beating him mercilessly.

In the following decades, defense attorneys for American police have consistently played on a “Birth of a Nation”-inspired fear about unhinged Blackness, specifically as it relates to Black male victims of police violence.

Implicit Bias Training: As conversations around police violence have permeated the national dialogue for the better part of a decade, the concept of officers receiving implicit bias training has been presented as a measure to help curve violent interactions with unarmed Black citizens. Implicit bias describes the automatic association people make between groups of people and stereotypes about those groups and many of these unfair associations have led to police officers discharging their weapons or instituting violent chokeholds that have claimed Black lives.

If we consider the example of George Floyd and Derek Chauvin as a case study in implicit bias, we can completely recognize where this kind of training could potentially be of benefit to the communities served by hyper-aggressive officers. When Chauvin and his fellow Minneapolis officers apprehended George Floyd for allegedly using counterfeit money at a convenience store, the aggression they approached him with was directly connected to their assumption of who he was. They saw a very tall, muscular dark brown Black man wearing a tank top that had just been accused of a crime, and in their minds, he fit the description of a far more nefarious criminal than his alleged crime would suggest.

We cannot say with absolute certainty that implicit bias training would have prevented Derek Chauvin’s predatory hunt and kill of George Floyd as he had a previous history of violence, but what we know is that many police departments around the nation often shirk the very idea of implicit bias training because to incorporate these trainings is to some degree an admission of a need for improvement. And murdering unarmed Black Americans does not constitute a need for improvement.

Turning Protest into Policy: After several months of national (and global) outcry behind the shooting death of Breonna Taylor by Louisville Metro Police, activists in Louisville transformed their pain and protest into legislation. Breonna’s Law was passed by the Louisville metro council three months after she was murdered. The law, which bans no-knock search warrants, was a direct response to the manner Breonna was killed and the byproduct of a community that had endured multiple incidents of the LMPD executing similar invasions that endangered more than just alleged suspects.

The passage of Breonna’s Law was monumental in the movement for Black lives as it debunked the idea that all advocates were good for was chanting, marching and blocking intersections. The law provided a direct correlation between an act of police violence and the advocacy of a community that sought to hold law enforcement responsible for an unnecessary murder. Among other things, the ordinance regulated how search warrants were to be carried out in the future and mandated the use of body cameras during searches.

30 years ago as parts of Los Angeles would eventually go up in flames, Black residents were saddled with angst, grief and an almost impossible resolve to combatting the systemic violence they faced. What the past three decades have taught us all is that the fight against state-sanctioned violence is ongoing, but as we continue to become more versed in the mechanisms that provide cover for unlawful police violence, we can transform our pain into power and utilize every tool at our disposal to topple oppressive regimes.

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thatringboy · 4 years

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All of my other TWST HCs

Because my Twisted Wonderland Headcanons have been my most popular posts, here I am giving the mob what they want! An almost complete list of Headcanons I have about every character and house!

This is by far my longest post and it took me three days to type, so I hope you guys get a laugh out of it!

WARNING: THESE ARE MY PERSONAL OPINIONS ABOUT EACH CHARACTER. IF YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ONE, PLEASE DON’T ATTACK ME OR OTHERS WHO SUPPORT MY HCS. JUST DON’T BE A DICK.

Heartslabyul

The word “Queen” is gender neutral

Frequently allows students from other houses to study with them

Recently expanded into two buildings dedicated just for dorms to house all of the students

Actually lots of words are gender neutral

Riddle

Does rebellious things with Trey sometimes

Actually struggled with gender for a while because of his mother and responds to all pronouns (he/she/they), but identifies as male

Sometimes uses the label “Androgynous Male”

Is attracted to Trey, but he can’t tell if it’s because of his childhood or because he genuinely likes his Vice DH

Has Tea Time TM with Vil

Abolished gender roles in NRC despite it being an all guys school

During Summer Vacation he wears jean shorts and mint green tank tops with red flip flops

Has a pet crab that is red and named “Queen” despite Riddle not knowing Queen’s gender

Queen is the mascot for Heartslabyul despite being a sea creature

We stan Queen the Crab in this house.

Trey

Enjoys breaking the rules with Riddle, even if it’s not very often

He dyed his hair green as a joke with Cater during his first year, but decided to keep it

Has fallen for Riddle. Hard.

But between his dignity, his position and him not knowing if Riddle likes men, he won’t say anything that could ruin the friendship

Rook found out by accident and actually helps Trey try to work up the courage to ask Riddle out, but Trey always backs down

Invented a type of Tea that soaks clover leaves and it tastes like vanilla mixed with mint

Cater

#SELFIE

Not really a drama queen, but will egg on fights for views

Sometimes his clones will develop different accents and that’s how you tell them apart

Has a pansexual flag in his room

Spends more time partying in Scarabia than in Heartslabyul

Is close friends with Kalim and actually crushed on him for a bit, but got over it once he noticed the way he looks at Jamil

Actually gives good relationship advice

Deuce

Was Bi-Curious during his Pre-NRC days and actually tried to put it behind him like everything else

However, like, everyone at NRC is some flavor of gay

So he gave up on his internalized homophobia and now lives his full authentic life!

Still uses the labels Bi-Curious and Questioning and often goes to Cater for advice

But his buddies love and support him no matter what

Is a huge feminist

Cater fully believes that Deuce likes Ace, but he actually doesn’t

Deuce admits when men are attractive, no matter if it makes them uncomfortable or not

Didn’t go over well with Jack

But the two are cool now

Ace

Probably one of the straightest guys you’ll ever meet besides Rook

Actually learned what the different teas smell like so that he never messed up again

Enjoys his fights with Grim, even if Grim is a little shit

Like seriously Grim is a little flying rat shit turd fuck but that’s just my opinion

Almost never learns from his mistakes and always pays the price

Chaotic Good.

Loves going on adventures with the Prefect and Grim!

Has never gone back to the Mostro Lounge without Jack or the Prefect

Also got really into Mermaid culture and regularly goes back to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to talk with that one guard

Has memorized the script from the Little Mermaid

Can sing You Pour, Unfortunate Soul in a perfect baritone vibrato despite his high voice

Also takes singing lessons from Azul, but only if someone else is in the room with them

Savanaclaw

Throws pool parties regularly

Octavinelle is almost always invited

Magift between the two houses is insane

Leona

Raging Bisexual, need I say more?

Goes to great lengths to find loopholes and just be lazy

Also goes to great lengths to help Ruggie

Hates his brother, but loves Cheka and his sister-in-law

Can’t properly digest seafood, but eats in in front of Azul and the Leech twins just to be a bitch

Is kinda clingy

Even if he doesn’t want to, he goes to all of the Savanaclaw vs Octavinelle vs Pomfiore karaoke battles

Can’t sing for shit, but likes to watch Ruggie and Jack duet and destroy everyone

Constantly reminds Malleus about the time they swapped robes

Actually swaps clothing with Malleus quite often on purpose to see how they feel

Ruggie

A good singer

But kinda self conscious about it??

Also a Raging Bisexual

Play flirts a lot with Leona, even though they don’t like one another like that

Is FtM Transgender, fully transitioned, and wears his scarf to cover the fact that he doesn’t have much chest hair and his scars

Only Leona and Crowley know

Gets a little dysphoria because his voice is still so high and because he’s shorter than everyone in Savanaclaw, but takes one look at Riddle, Lila and Ace and forgets about it

Jack suspects, but the two make a killer duo during karaoke!

Jack

Is straight, but won’t get in your face about it

Actually learned how to become a fast swimmer just to flex on Jade and Floyd

Has memorized almost all of Heartslabyul’s rules just because he didn’t want to be disrespectful

Arm wrestles with Floyd often

Helps out in the Mostro Lounge pretty often when he’s bored

His karaoke skills are out of this world!

Also has memorized the layout for Ramshackle Dorm just so he wouldn’t get lost in there

Tsundere? Maybe.....

Knows something’s different about Ruggie, but can’t figure it out

Respects privacy like crazy

Just a cool guy to be around

Octavinelle

Hosts the karaoke battles

Now pays their employees in the Mostro Lounge

Gives free singing lessons

Azul

Choir Gay TM

Aromantic Homosexual

Constantly has Boss Bitch by Doja Cat in his head

Actually has shit handwriting and it made his Golden Contracts all the much more powerful

His handwriting is beautiful underwater, though

When he’s feeling lazy, Azul transforms into his Merman form and uses his 8 extra arms to do things for him

Has a single picture from his childhood that he has not edited (or tried to edit)

It’s of him, Jade and Floyd graduating Junior High

All three of them are linking arms and smiling brightly

It sits on his nightstand in a golden frame

Gives most of the singing lessons

But doesn’t participate in the karaoke battles

“I’ll join if Leona joins.”

Petty about the karaoke

Jade

Once swapped clothing styles with Floyd for an entire day and was just chaotic towards everyone

Does this more often now just to relieve stress

Only the Prefect could ever tell them apart

Not even Azul knew they had swapped

Is Pansexual and liked Azul during Junior High, but got over it once they started at NRC

Can scare someone so badly that they tell the truth regardless of Jade using his magic

50 students were asked who they’d rather have to fight, 42 of them said “Floyd all the way! No way am I fighting Jade!”

Was actually popular in Junior High, but turned down opportunities to be more popular to spend time with Floyd and Azul

Can cuss in 8 languages

Floyd

When he swapped clothing with Jade, he actually enjoyed being calm and responsible

Loves to do things like that for Jade

Raging Homosexual, need I say more?

His Bakugou impression is on point

There are several videos of him just standing at the end of a dark hallway laughing and whispering “Die, Deku!”

Also really likes Volleyball despite being on the Basketball team

Takes Bean Day a lot farther than it needs to be

Flirts with Riddle a lot, knowing it upsets Trey

But doesn’t know that Trey actually likes Riddle

Has sea related nicknames for everyone

Scarabia

Everyone has to help take care of Snake

Monthly competitions where Kalim hands out free vacations

The competitions involve taking care of Snake

Who is Snake? You’ll see.

Kalim

When he learned what Pansexual was, he went around Scarabia clapping pans together to come out

Cater was the one who explained it to him

Loves to party and flirt with Jamil, but can be serious if needed

Sometimes holds group therapy for his dorm residents

But also PARTY 24/7 IF IT HAS ALCOHOL WE CHUGGIN’ TONIGHT!

PARTY ROCKERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT

Named his magic carpet “Jamil Jr.”

Flexes on Azul with Jamil Jr.

Is open about his attraction to Jamil, but also respects Jamil’s personal space

He and Lila sneak out at night to mess with people

Jamil

Has a pet snake that he never named

Just calls the snake “Snake”.

When Jamil’s busy, other residents take turns taking care of Snake

There is an entire chore chart and half of the chores involve Snake

Snake isn’t even the dorm mascot, he’s just Jamil’s pet

Tsundere TM

The only reason he doesn’t accept Kalim’s professions of love is because of his family obligations to serve the Al-Asim family

Takes family and traditions very seriously

Internalized homophobia? Maybe....

Petty as well

Has poured sand into people’s shoes and hidden scorpions in beds

Pomfiore

Usually wins the karaoke battles

Unless Ruggie + Jack join

Make up tips

Vil

I’ve said most of my HCs about him

But I’ll retype them

Wine Mom TM

Musical Theatre Gay TM

Tea Time TM

Fashion Police TM

NRC James Charles

But also respective of people’s sexualities

Has poured water into people’s makeup

Has attempted to give Rook a make over, but Rook is more acrobatic then he looks

Has never actually sung in public

Likes to keep people guessing over his singing voice

Has a cherry apple tree in the school garden that he spends time every day taking care of

Runs NRC’s GSA

Rook

Heterosexual TM

Wears Doc Martens sandals with beige cargo shorts and white polo shirts when not in uniform

Can be seen back-flipping away in this outfit while Vil chases him around the dorm

Is allergic to strawberries

Epel’s bodyguard

Throws rotten fruit at people and calls it a prank

His bangs were by accident

But decided to keep them

Pretends to hunt, but can’t shoot for shit

However does go on fishing trips

Has to have some Heterosexual Hobbies TM

Epel

Is an actual Prince

Like owns land

Everyone in the dorm protects him

Is actually like Honey Senpai

Will put you in your place.

Like fr is a top.

Despite being so small

I don’t know what his sexuality would be

Probably Bisexual

Can lower is voice a lot if needed

Ignihyde

There’s magic inside of the dorm that turns all fire blue, but the fire turns back to normal once outside the dorm

Doesn’t apply to Ortho’s hair, though

Has the most LGBT residents - even more than Pomfiore surprisingly

Actually, not surprising - have you seen Disney’s Hades????

Iida

Cat-sits for Professer Trein

Everyone believes he can set his hair on fire, but he actually can’t

His hair is naturally that fire-y color

Loves to prank people, but never in person

Social Anxiety? Personified.

Before he rebuilt Ortho, Iida had a robot he controlled from his room that went to class for him

The robot was named “Meg”

Now he just uses his screens

Owns a crop top that has a cat face on it that Ortho made for him

Actually wears it a lot, but nobody ever sees below his shoulders on his screens

Oh yeah, also constantly questioning his sexuality

Currently likes guys, but that might just be because he goes to an all-guys school

Ortho

Has tons of cat plushies in his room despite not needing to sleep

Also has a mini library in his room, but he memorized all of the books

Burns things with his hair

Also sews a lot

Spills tea about the dorm residents with Trey, Jamil and Lilia

Has a couple pictures from before he became a robot, but doesn’t remember taking them

Has a bulletin board where he hangs pictures of his friends and family

Actually takes photography classes from Cater

Doesn’t focus on sexuality, so he just goes with “Queer”

People assume he’s scared of water because of his fire hair, but he loves playing in pools

Once cosplayed as Alphonse Elric and Iida was Edward from FML

Has pictures of that as well

Diasomnia

Basically one big family

Even more-so than other dorms like Ignihyde

Has a vault of hard liquor that has been sitting there for centuries

Malleus

Responds to Tsunotaro

Smuggles hard liquor into Scarabia despite not being a drinker

Has a YouTube account where he visits old buildings

Floyd ruined his Ramshackle Dorm video by standing at the end of a hallway and laughing

Can turn into a Dragon

His horns aren’t sensitive

Lilia once hung Christmas lights from them and Malleus didn’t notice for the entire day

Sometimes Lilia jumps and pulls on Malleus’ horns when he’s being dumb

Polysexual, but leans towards men

When he looks surprised by something - he genuinely is surprised, not faking it for someone else

Doesn’t believe in hiding emotions

Is actually like 300 years old, but was frozen for a good amount of it

Also immortal and is stuck at being physically 18

Damn Fairy magic

Oh and he didn’t mind wearing Leona’s ceremonial robes that one time

They were comfy

Enjoys swapping clothes with Leona a lot

Also had a crown made of thorns that is uncomfortable to wear

He burned it, but hasn’t told anyone yet

Takes the term “mom friend” to another level

Just ask Silver

Lilia

Only calls Malleus “old man” to be a prick

Is like 500 years old

Has gone through high school many times

Can undo stitches in people’s clothing without them knowing until their clothing falls apart

Asexual Homoromantic

“Who needs sex when you can be a bitch?” - Lilia Vanrouge, 2020

Is Malleus’ royal advisor

Spills tea like crazy

Has catfished people

Is the cool dad

Sebek

Is a Malleus fanboy???

He named his horse Draco

I don’t have many Headcanons about Sebek actually

Probably drinks tea with Riddle sometimes

Oh and definitely a bottom

Is he Bi? Poly? Pan? No one knows

But he’s a power bottom

Silver

Doesn’t have a last name because he was raised by Lilia and Malleus

Is indebted to Malleus because of this

and Lilia too, but like I said, Lilia is the cool dad

(he is actually indebted to Malleus in canon, but idk if it’s for this reason or not)

just let him have two platonically gay dads that go to school with him

Once in a Diasomnia/Savanaclaw sleepover, he and Leona passed out on each other’s shoulders while Ruggie and Lilia took photos

The photos haven’t been seen in a while, but are still around somewhere

Actually has several photos of him falling asleep with his head in Lilia’s lap

His bed stretches across his entire wall, forming a bench almost

Owns a suit of armor

It has a sword

He can use the sword if needed

Can he just get a nap????

Because of his relationship with Malleus, seeing fireflies calms him down

Is this guy wholesome? Yes.

Is he a Bisexual top? Also yes.

Can’t make everything wholesome

Holy fuck my fingers hate me. If you managed to read this far, I hope you enjoyed my headcanons for Twisted Wonderland students and houses! I don’t know enough about the teachers to make headcanons for each them, but I do have one for the staff:

Sam and Dire Crowley

Married

This is the only reason Sam runs the school store

Sam is not qualified for anything else

But Dire loves him too much to fire him

Forget the wholesomeness between the Dorm heads and their Vices

This is the most wholesome pair

Okay seriously - I need to stop making these headcanons it’s midnight at my house. I’ve spent probably close to 13 hours (give or take with a lot of breaks) writing these down and doing research on characters just so that my headcanons don’t seem completely out of the blue. Also, don’t be afraid to post your own headcanons, even if canon doesn’t always support them. That’s the thing about fictional characters - they’re open to interpretation!

And now to the long list of tags....

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