but i think i like the way the final thing communicates what i was attempting to here

Y’all seriously need to learn to fact check things you see on here.

1.) it wasn’t Disney who turned down Coco but DREAMWORKS. 
and to those who STILL erroneously insist that Disney/Pixar turned down The Book of Life

2.) People getting mad at this:

Marigolds are traditional to our culture as well as to the holiday, ESPECIALLY in petal form. Not the best example but that’s like getting mad at different Christmas movies for using mistletoe.

3.) “Oh it’s the same plot.” Has anyone looked up the plot for this movie other than outright bashing it from the trailer? 
“The footage, raw though it may be, spun a compelling story about Miguel, a sweet kid who loves music despite the fact that his abuelita banned music long ago, thanks to an ancient drama involving Miguel’s great-great-grandfather—a dashing musician—who walked out on the family. That musician, Miguel discovers at the start of the film, is his town’s most famous son: deceased film star and music supernova Ernesto de la Cruz. On the eve of Día de Muertos, Miguel breaks into de la Cruz’s mausoleum in order to borrow the famous skull guitar that hangs there so that he can enter a talent competition and convince his family to embrace music again. Once Miguel touches the guitar, he becomes something of a living ghost. His family can no longer see him, but Miguel can now see all of his dead ancestors—who look like fantastically decorative skeletons—crossing over a bright bridge made of marigold flower petals from the Land of the Dead. Looking for help and answers, Miguel travels to the Land of the Dead—a dazzlingly vibrant, stacked metropolis inspired by the Mexican city of Guanajuato—himself and sets off an adventure with trickster skeletal companion Hector to find the rest of his family, de la Cruz, and the answer to how he can fix this curse.”  
You know how insistent Pixar is on always making original films. So don’t you think that they would continue that?

4.) “But the white director who thinks he knows everything because he’s been to Mexico.” That’s right, a white person who is not of Mexican/Latinx culture can not truly KNOW our culture simply by visiting it. And Lee Unkrich knows this fact. Which why he assembled a group for the sake of making sure the movie is culturally accurate, rather than him taking on that role

you know, a team of actual latinx. Including someone who was a huge critic of Coco, and is a critic of Disney, Lalo Alcaraz. He is most famously known for his response to the action of Disney attempting to trademark Dia de los Meurtos (which will be our next point). It’s not Alcaraz selling out. It’s him working together with the movie so it’s not just Disney trying to bring in more Latinx fans but rather creating what Unkrich’s true mission: “a love letter to Mexico.” This team along with many other Latinx creatives (like Adrian Molina who was originally just a writer and then promoted to co-director) and a fully latinx cast (again, as insisted by Unkrich), are working together to make it a Latinx piece of media. ( http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2016/12/pixar-coco-gael-garcia-bernal-dia-de-los-muertos-miguel )

5.) We all know and got rightfully angry at Disney for attempting to trademark Dia de los Muertos. This was due to the similar original name the movie had. As expected, it received intense backlash to which Disney quickly revoked the request to trademark. Unkrich was the first to vocalize that this was a mistake. This even leading to that point most likely has to do with him being a white man not of our culture, but this humbling experience is what really knocked that message into him and he began recruiting people like the ones in the above point to make sure that the movie itself is true to the people, culture, and holiday, in ways he himself could never fully grasp.

6.) It’s about the Day of the Dead like The Book of Life. My response to this is easy: look at how many movies are there about Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Valentine’s day, Saint Patrick’s day, etc.

7.) Gutierrez himself doesn’t want it to be a competition but as two wonderful films about one aspect of Latinx that will hopefully lead to more in the future.

I love The Book of Life, and is one of my favorite movies if I’m being honest. When it first came out I was filled with such pride and joy for many reasons. One of course for it being a gorgeously rendered film, but for it being such a positive and beautiful representation and celebration of Mexico. As someone who grew up only seeing white main characters, with people like my family and I as only side characters, it brings me such joy to see more media being produced in which Mexicans are the focus along with our culture (which is agreeably much more diverse than what is being tapped into). We still got a long way to go as Mexico is still only one group of Latinx culture, but we are witnessing the stepping stones of Hollywood beginning to reach out and representing this community by working with people of those cultures. The Book of Life will always have a special place in my heart, but I’m not letting my love of that movie keep me from supporting Latinx creators that are putting out Coco. I’m finally getting the representation that I craved as a kid and loving it.

Story 215: Cultural Exchange

The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner.  It flashes - no weapons.  I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her.  By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies.
“Hello there!  Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity.  You’re a Ixian, correct?”
Mimicking human body language, I nod my head.  "That’s correct.  Ix Malasan.  It is an honor to meet you.“
She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself.  Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies.  Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet.  No other known species tampers with their bodies like this.
“Not to be undiplomatic, she says, "but the Gaunvans enslaved your people.  Why are you here?”
“We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement.  We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture.  The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.”
She nods.  "Understood.  I can respect that choice.  How much freedom do you have, personally?“
Smart of her, to start planning for her future. "A fair amount.  I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit.  At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.”
“Have you ever met the Empress, or…?”
“Oh, no.  No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.”
“Shame.  Okay, plan ‘A’ then.  Let’s get this over with.”

Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats.  I don’t know why I bother.  He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light.  His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed.  "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you.  Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“
To her credit, she looks very calm.  "We live in a post-scarcity society.  Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
“It is for the glory of Gaun!”
“Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind.  Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?”
Now he goes back on script.  Maybe I am getting through to him a little?  He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites.  They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.

She nods as she listens.  There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike.  They don’t understand the horrors of war.  Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft.  They play games with each other instead, silly competitions.  They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun.  They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did.
“Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected.  On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.”
Oh no.  Foolish humans.  The galaxy will miss your innocence.  The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat.  He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.

Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand.  She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off.  It’s not possible.  The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb.
“I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck.  The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain.  They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature.  She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table.  She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.

I don’t understand.

The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act.  She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance.  She can die in peace.  Or… no… She’s killing them.  She’s smiling because this is fun for her.  Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed.  Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic.  At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion.  It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room.  I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing.  Only one yet lives, and he is retreating.  She seems to be allowing it.

She follows behind, holding a lance.  The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes.  She’s just… walking.  Calm.  And for some reason I’m following.  The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him.
“Come on, we’re stealing their ship.”  She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“There are thousands more on board!  Thousands!  Almost all warrior caste!”
She smiles again, and keeps walking.  I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost.  They can’t tell anyone what is happening here.  Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end.  Do they even know they’ve been boarded?
“How?”

We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease.  They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time.  Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again.
“Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.”
“But you… you ripped his arm off.”
“Yeah, that was super satisfying.”  She looks at me appraisingly.  "Oh, come on.  Is it really that surprising?  You knew we were into changing ourselves, right?  Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“
"Your people are so peaceful…”
“Oh, sure, most of them.  But we did that, too.  Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed.  Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.”
“You bond with Ry'ling devourers!”
“Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah?  Those guys are adorable!  But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved.  We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable.  It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”

I can feel the ship un-dock.  We’re moving.  "What about all the warriors on board?  They’ll break through the doors eventually!“
"Not according to this control panel here.  Take a look.”
It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship.  Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time.  She disabled all the safety measures, somehow.  She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers.  Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?”
“Yeah, I’m calling some friends.  The military is right around the corner, so to speak.”
“But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.”
She laughs.  Not just a little bit.  She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath.  "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that?  No standing military.  Have you read about us at all?“

Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel.  Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors.  Speaking English.
"Okay boys, send your last goodbyes!  This is in all likelihood a one way mission.  Commander Thorn!  It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!”
She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans.  Or… humans?  Can they change themselves this drastically?
“You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere.  Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.”
“New brain?”
She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others.  "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity.  He’s going to be helping with our intel.  Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship.  Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed.  We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“
"But how do you know the protocols?  This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!”
“No?  There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?”
“But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”

The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding.  The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder.  "You coming with?“
"Naw.  Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets.  Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.”
“It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn.  Well, maybe we’ll see each other again.  Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.”
“Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles.
He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job.  And what is that job?”
In unison, they start chanting.

“FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!”

For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans.  Nearly.  Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans.  Fuck shit up, indeed.

give me a voltron episode where they’re all on a planet covered in a million and a half different species of flowers and allura is like “i just think that perhaps you shouldn’t touch ANY of them” and of course lance is all “well what does this purple one do” and he touches it and it blurps out this goo on his hand and he yelps and tries to wipe it off on keith but keith blocks it with his hand and BOOM. their hands are stuck together. can’t pull away, cant find anything to get it off, NOTHING. allura is nearly crying because why does lance never LISTEN and shiro is just internally screaming three feet away while pidge laughs their ass off.

fast forward to them dealing with it on the ship. coran is running around trying to find information on the Snorfalus plant and how to remove the goo, but until they have an answer, they’re quite literally stuck holding hands.

keith is pissed because, if there’s an emergency, he wants to pilot his lion. but lance is fighting to have it so they go in his, and it becomes this huge thing that escalates and they’re both thisclose to punching each other when pidge kindly reminds them that neither of them can pilot at all if one of their hands is covered in this super-alien-force glue. keith is dying inside. lance tries to make a pun and keith kicks his shin. it’s a hot mess.

it gets even worse when hunk oh so sweetly asks how they’re going to end up sleeping tonight if they’re stuck this way. cue keith turning bright red and stumbling over his words for three minutes before lance sighs loudly and says “i swear, if you’re a blanket hog, i’m putting you on the floor.” needless to say, neither of them sleep very well that night in lance’s cot, both of them staring up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to say that they know the other one is awake.

just imagine keith and lance trying to do their every day routines while being forced to hold hands because of this goo. eating at the table, standing next to each other at meetings about next steps, attempting to train together.

at first, it’s rocky. they both walk at different paces so they trip over each other, they go in different directions at the same time and then get snapped back together and fall over, and there is zero privacy at all. but as the days go on, something shifts and they start bickering less. they communicate better, start falling into step and accomodating each other instead of pushing to be in control. their movements become fluid in training and they’re strong. stronger together than they were apart, even. and it’s noticeable.

maybe that’s why coran hid that he knows how to remove the goo for an extra week. either way, when it’s finally gone and keith and lance are free, the team works as a unit even better than before. lance and keith have each other’s backs like it’s just instinct now, can predict each other’s movements, and it makes them all that much stronger and better as a team.

keith won’t ever admit that he misses the constant feeling of lance’s palm pressed tight against his own. it’s a shame, really, considering that the only thing lance misses more than earth is the way keith’s fingers felt entwined with his own.

2

A/N: So, originally, this was supposed to be a thing in my fanfic “Colour Bruise” which I haven’t updated in ages. I am planning on finishing the story but for now, enjoy this. ;-)

Words: 1789
Warnings: lime, a lot of swearing

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DÉPAYSEMENT | 04

| Fluff | Comedy | Smut | Slight Angst | Nerd!Hoseok | Braces!Hoseok

word count: 10k

❝ An engineering prodigy and your resident college loser, Jung Hoseok coerces you into teaching him the ways of the dating world. 

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Fifth set of ten Sterek fic recs - sorry this one’s a week late, but I broke my foot on the day I usually compile ‘em, and it’s…kinda thrown my entire schedule off. The next set should be posted sooner.

Thanks, Batman! | @LadyDrace | 1,575 | Teen | 2017-09-03

Derek meets someone at Comic-Con. Too bad they’re completely wrong about Batman.


Sandpapered Corners And No Points | @hayesgeneration | 2,578 | Mature | 2012-12-17

It’s dark and he almost slips when he follows the siren’s voice until the water is up to his neck because she wants him, she wants him and he’s lonely, and her calling is like a relief and this might just be worth drowning for. He punches Boyd in the face when he pulls him out of the water, sputtering and coughing and yelling because he wants to go back, because nobody else wants him, don’t they fucking understand that?


Word By Word | @Cobrilee | 11,843 | Teen | 2017-03-30

The first time Derek sees the words, he’s had a really shitty day. Laura was on his case again, all in the name of sisterly love, of course, and Cora was wielding her usual acerbic wit like a rapier. He’d gotten to the scene of a shooting too late and the victim had died before Derek could call for an ambulance. His Camaro had gotten a flat and while he was attempting to change the tire on the side of the road, someone drove by and sent a wave of muddy water arcing, drenching him, and he was cold, muddy, and miserable.

Then, as he was sliding into the front seat after toweling off as best as he could, he felt something prickling on his arm and glanced down. Shaky, thin lines began appearing, little by little, and he could do no more than stare as the infamous phrase formed on his arm. 

Are you 18?


Lost on You | @troubleiwant | 4,709 | Teen | 2017-08-29

Stiles is the sheriff of Beacon Hills, and Derek’s an inveterate cattle hustler better known as The Outlaw Derek Hale. It’s a shame he’s so goddamn pretty, then.

-OR-

Hale gives Stiles a rakish, dangerous smile. “Aw, that Whittemore kid’s got enough cattle he won’t miss a few.”

“Be that as it may, the law’s the law,” Stiles says. “I’m charged with taking this property back to its rightful owner.”

“And what if I don’t let you?”

Stiles scowls. “If you put up a fight, I’m within my rights as sheriff to shoot you.”

Hale eyes him, an inscrutable smile quirking one side of his mouth. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“Sure,” Stiles agrees amiably. “‘Cause you’re gonna leave this herd right here and ride away, all agreeable-like.”

They sit on their respective horses and stare each other down for a moment that stretches out like taffy. The cattle sway along between them, snuffling and clopping on their way. Stiles has enough time to give some serious thought to what he would do if Hale, for once, didn’t take his offer of a peaceful resolution.


We Have Potential | dragon_temeraire ( @dragon-temeraire​ ) | 10,196 | Teen | 2017-08-23 to 2017-08-27

Derek has finally been invited to the annual North American Werewolf Convention. The only problem? They’re expecting him to bring a significant other. He doesn’t actually have one, but everyone volunteers Stiles for the job.


It Started With a Game | @nightlight9 | 2,805 | Gen | 2017-08-28

It’s one thing to have Stiles as his anchor. It’s another thing entirely to realize that he’s in love with his best friend. His best friend who happens to be three years younger than him and, oh god, John is going to have him arrested. He won’t be able to become a cop because he’ll be behind bars.


put ‘em together and what have you got? | yodasyoyo ( @yodas-yo-yo​ ) | 11,162 | Teen | 2017-08-22 to 2017-08-27

“Oh, bibbidi bobbidi fuck you.”

Unsurprisingly, Stiles’ fairy godmother is a menace.


The King’s Riddle | @itsdeianeira | 14,802 | Teen | 2017-08-27

He has been waiting for this war to be over, for his love to come home, sending away one insistent suitor after the other with a trick. He has come with a question that only the one person that knows him better than he knows himself can find the answer to, and he has stuck to it for all this time.

Or, the one with a little bit of Odyssey, a little bit of Tristano & Isotta, and of course, a bit of Merlin.


Love (And Belly Rubs) In The Moonlight | @clotpolesonly | 1,462 | Gen | 2017-08-22

When Stiles came home from the grocery store, there was a wolf in his living room. A really big wolf with curly brown fur like he’d never seen before, even in pictures. Then, quite abruptly, the wolf was gone. In its place, there was a naked Scott, with his modesty blessedly preserved by the upright back of the couch.

“What the fuck?” Stiles demanded. “Since when the fuck can you do a full shift?“

“Dude, it’s a solar eclipse!”


If These Walls Could Talk | distortedreality ( @triskelesandpixels ) | 41,224 | Explicit | 2017-08-21

“I’m worried about you. If you’re hung up on this guy all through high school then you won’t have room for anyone else. What do you think will happen when you both go off to college? Fuck, don’t answer that because I wouldn’t put it past you to go to the same one as him.”
“You literally make me sound like a stalker.”
“You’re only like 60% stalker.”
“I’m not any percent stalker.”
“Now that’s just a boldfaced lie, isn’t it, Der?”
Derek pressed his face into Cora’s pink duvet and groaned loudly.

A high school AU where everyone’s human and bad at communication. Stiles is an oblivious as hell lacrosse star, Derek is totally not pining and in no way working against his own self-interests (shut up, Cora), and everyone else is the captain of their ship (which doesn’t exist) (but it so does).

Missed Opportunities

Originally posted by wwhatfinn

Anon requests: If ur still taking requests. Can you do one where the reader of best friends with Juggie but they told him how they feel, but Juggie doesn’t listen and then in a football game Reggie makes a move and they accept b/c Juggie doesn’t seem to acknowledge them that way and Juggie ends up jealous…

Request if you still take one. Reader and Jughead have been friends forever and they said stuff to each other about being together but Jughead been avoiding it. Reader wants something more, and in a football game Reggie asks them out and they say yes b/c they feel they need to love since Jughead is avoiding them about their feelings and Jughead gets jealous…

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: You missed a thousand opportunities to tell your best friend that you fell in love with him.  One night, you finally seize the chance.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,926

A/N: I’m so sorry for my inactivity, I hope this longer imagine makes up for it.  Enjoy!


You didn’t mean to fall in love with your best friend.  It was an accident.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened.  It wasn’t anything sudden; you didn’t wake up one morning and realize you were in love. It was a slow process.

Maybe it began when you two met at Pop’s.  He was sitting in his regular booth, brooding and mysterious.  He was the edgiest ten year old in Riverdale.  For the first time, you entered Pop’s all by yourself. Your parents had decided that double digits meant that you could be more independent.  Of course, your first action was to go to the best diner in Riverdale all on your own.  Once you arrived, you realized how scary being alone was.  Scanning the diner, you looked for a companion to sit with.  You spotted a boy who looked around the same age as you.

“Can I sit here?” you asked, approaching the table.  The boy stared at you suspiciously for a moment.

“Sure,” he nodded after a second of contemplation.  You smiled and sat down across from him.

“I’m (Y/N),” you greeted, sticking your hand out across the table.  The boy tentatively shook it.

“Jughead,” he introduced himself.

“That’s a weird name,” you crinkled your nose.  He shrugged.

“I know.”

Maybe it was that night at the drive-in: a cold October night, and you forgot your jacket.  Vertigo was on that night, and Jughead, knowing it was one of your favorite movies, notified you that it was playing.  You asked him, with a smirk, if he had anything to do with this movie being played; with an indignant scoff, he promised you that he had no part in the Twilight Drive-In playing your favorite movie.  The two of you sat together watching the movie, Jughead’s arm casually draped around your shoulders.  Bitter October night winds blew in, causing you to shiver.  Jughead noticed this, so he drew you closer to him.  It wasn’t the warmth Jughead provided you that caused the redness in you cheeks.

There was no way for you to pinpoint when exactly you fell in love with your best friend.  Every time you saw him, wearing that goddamned beanie and a wide grin, your heart skipped a beat.  Each time your hands brushed against each other, or your thighs rested right next to each other, you could feel your affection swell.

But as Newton’s third law states: every action has an equal opposite reaction.  Every time you fell a little more in love with Jughead, there was an agonizing pain in your heart because you could never be with him.  You knew you could never build up the courage to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.  All the risks threatening your friendship with Jughead were enough to keep your feelings bottled up.

Although you swore to yourself that you’d never reveal your secret affections for Jughead, you found that hiding things from your best friend was more difficult than you imagined.

“(Y/N),” Jughead interrupted your thoughts, causing your head to snap up.  Immediately, you plastered a smile on your face.

“Yeah, Jug?” you asked, slightly tilting your head.  He shook his head at you.

“What’s up with you lately?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes.  “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”

“I’m fine Jug,” you waved him off.  “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Jughead ignored your protests.  

“I promise you, Jug, if there’s something wrong I’ll tell you.”  Satisfied with your answer, he nodded at your response and turned back to his laptop.  The two of you sat in the diner booth, each doing your own thing.  After an hour of silence, you closed the book you were reading and set it down on the table.  Jughead noticed this, so he lowered his laptop lid.

“Something wrong?” he inquired.  You pursed your lips for a moment, contemplating what to say.

“Have you ever thought about us?” you asked.  He shot you a confused glance, so you elaborated.  “Have you ever thought about us, I don’t know… as not friends?  Like more?”  Jughead’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean… yeah,” he shrugged. You bit your lip.

“Do you think it could ever work?”

“I don’t know,” he responded.  “I’d just hate to ruin our great friendship, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.  “I know exactly what you mean.”


The next day at school, Jughead completely avoided you.  Every time you attempted to approach him, he turned on his heel and walked in the other direction.  After practically confessing your feelings last night, you were devastated to see Jughead ignoring you.  This continued throughout the rest of the week; Jughead never talked to you, no matter how hard you tried to communicate with him.  On Friday, Archie approached you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he greeted. You shot him a small smile.

“Hey, Archie.”

“I’m sorry about Jughead,” he frowned, looking at you with pity.  You shrugged and shook your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you responded, causing his frown to deepen.  “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well, actually, no,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I know it’s been a rough week for you, but I was wondering if you wanted to come to the game tonight.  It’s a big game, so I’d just really appreciate it if you were there.”  He offered a hesitant smile at you, and your fake smile widened into a real one.

“Sure, Archie,” you responded.  He thanked you and headed away, probably searching for other people to invite to the game.  You knew you hadn’t been in the best shape for the past week, but you figured this was the perfect opportunity to get your mind off of everything that had happened. It was an opportunity to forget about Jughead.


You arrived at the football stadium, and you wandered into the bleachers, looking for a place to sit. As you wandered around, you spotted Jughead.  Before he could turn his head to look at you, you dashed out of sight.  Finally, you found a seat at the top of the bleachers. You watched the entire game from there, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crowd every time Riverdale High’s team scored.  Once the buzzer signaled the end of the game, and another victory for Riverdale, you ran down to the field to congratulate Archie.  Instead of finding Archie, you ran into Reggie.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, his sweaty figure towering over you.  

“Hey, Reggie!” you smiled. He grinned.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” he noted.  You shrugged.

“Did you want to?”

“Well yeah,” he laughed. Oddly, you found yourself blushing. “We should catch up sometime, (Y/N). How about Tuesday?”  You blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

“Seriously?” you questioned. He nodded as if it was obvious.

“Of course.  Eight o’clock at Pop’s?”  You grinned and nodded.  He did the same and then walked off to celebrate the victory with his teammates. Turning on your heel, you suddenly came face-to-face with Jughead.

“Reggie?  Seriously (Y/N)?” he inquired, crossing his arms and raising a brow.

“At least he had the courage to ask me out,” you scoffed, stomping off and leaving a stunned Jughead behind.


Tuesday night arrived quickly, and, as promised, you met Reggie at Pop’s.  He sat waiting in a booth, and when you entered, his face illuminated with a grin.  The night went successfully, and you thoroughly enjoyed your time with Reggie. You didn’t even notice the dark figure watching you from a few booths away.

“I had a great time tonight, (Y/N),” Reggie said as he noticed the time.  It was nearly midnight.  “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course,” you nodded, smiling.  He grinned.

“And, just to be clear, these are dates, right?”  You hesitated at this, and for the first time you looked up and spotted Jughead. Realizing you were staring at him, he averted his gaze.  You turned back to Reggie and frowned.

“Reggie,” you started, twiddling with your fingers.  His face slowly fell as he anticipated what you were going to say.  “You’re a great guy.  Any girl would be lucky to have you, but… I like someone else.”  You smiled apologetically at him.  “I’m sorry.  I hope we can still be friends.”  The football star stood up, remaining in front of your table.  He offered you a small smile.

“I understand,” he sighed. “Of course we can be friends.  I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”  He strode away from your table and exited the diner. Once he was out of sight, you turned all of your attention to Jughead.  You stood up and rushed over to his table.

“What the hell, Jughead?” you seethed, sitting down across from him.  He refused to make eye contact with you.  “Were you spying on me?”

“We’re best friends, (Y/N), you should know by now that I’m always at Pop’s,” he spat in retaliation. You didn’t back down.

“Oh so we are best friends?” you cynically questioned.  “That’s funny, because I don’t think we’ve spoken in a week.”

“I had a lot on my mind, okay?” he defended himself, growing quieter.  You rolled your eyes and nodded.

“Uh huh,” you scoffed, “a lot on your mind.  Whatever, Jughead.”  You rose from your seat and prepared to exit, but Jughead grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, (Y/N),” he stopped you.  You raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sorry.”

“Wow thanks,” you smiled sarcastically.  “This makes everything better, Jughead.”

“I know it doesn’t,” he rolled his eyes, “but I can’t do anything else except apologize, (Y/N).”

“How about you talk to me?” you offered, narrowing your eyes as you settled back into your seat.  “Because I’ve had my feelings out there for a week now, Jughead, and you haven’t said anything about it.”

“What feelings?” he questioned.  “All you asked me is if I thought we should be a couple.”

“What do you think that was?” you practically screamed.  “Did you really just think that was just casual conversation, Jug?  Come on, you’re smarter than that!”

“Okay, so you confessed your feelings to me!” he exclaimed, frustratedly throwing his hands up.  “How do you think I felt, (Y/N)?  When I thought my best friend was thinking about the same possibility as me?  I was fucking terrified!”  This drew you aback.

“Terrified?” you echoed. “Why… why were you terrified?”

“Because I think about that too, (Y/N), all the time!” he didn’t yell, but his voice grew louder.  “I don’t know when it happened, but sometime between that first time you walked in through those diner doors,” he pointed at the entrance, “and right now, something changed.  I don’t know when, I don’t know how, and I certainly don’t know why.  All I know when I saw you laughing with good-looking, athletic Reggie the only thing I could think about is all the times I could’ve told you how I felt, and I didn’t.”  He was almost panting by the end of his tangent, and you were subdued by shock.  The two of you sat together in silence, staring at each other in astonishment.  

“Missed opportunities,” you finally murmured, breaking the silence.  “We both… we both missed so many opportunities.”  You bit your lip between your teeth, holding back a smile.

“But here we are,” Jughead replied, a smile creeping onto his face.  “We missed a thousand opportunities, but the universe gave us one more.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” you smiled.  He grinned.

“Neither do I,” he responded.  “But I do believe in us.”

Limerence (Yoongi x Reader)

Originally posted by gotjhope

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: hi can you do a fic where youre in love with suga but he rejects you because you’re like a little sister to him but when you start to avoisld him or something, he starts to miss you. Thank you!!

 - Limerence; (n) the state of being infatuated with another person. -

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: language (what’s new), public embarrassment (I guess?)

Word Count: 8414 (I’m so sorry)

Authors Note: Yoongi is my babe and I love him with all my heart as much as I love Jungkook and I want to protect him and love him and care for him forever and always *gasps for air* So yeah. A Suga request! I’m so sorry this took forever, and I’m even sorrier that it’s so long, I know long fics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Let me know what you think, and happy reading!

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I AM SO INTO THIS SHIT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I tried to make them kinda different, but in the end they still wound up pretty similar, Please Forgive.

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Witchy Beginner Guide/FAQ

  I’ve had this blog for about 2 years now, and I’ve noticed that Tumblr has a large population of beginner and often ‘closeted’ witches. Of course, it’s a seemingly perfect place for a sprouting witch to turn to, with an interactive community and boundless fountains of information. I’ve been asked just about every question in the book, and I do my best to answer them. However, there was one question that persisted in my inbox, that I frequently ignored due to the mere vastness of the topic. So, finally, here is my panacea for the swarm of newbie asks.

*This does not mean you cannot ask me questions about these topics! If you feel something wasn’t covered or might be different to your situation, feel free to ask. However, I will probably link you to this if your question is directly addressed.*

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I know if I’m a witch?

The title of a witch is chosen, not born. While certain signs may push you towards a certain diety or spiritual path, the ultimate choice to begin practicing witchcraft is a choice and often happens over time and consideration rather than an all at once ‘initiation.’

Do I have to be Wiccan to practice witchcraft?

Nope! Wicca, or any other religion for that matter, does not own the practice of witchcraft. It is not a closed practice (though certain aspects can be, and are therefor not witchcraft, such as smudging) meaning anyone can practice.

What is paganism?

Paganism, or pagan religions, are religions that are not majorly practiced. It is sometimes used by Christians to identify non-Christians. Paganism is not one religion, but rather an umbrella term for many;.

What are the basic things I need to do a spell?

While Tumblr likes to glamourize spells and the craft with fancy shots of big geodes and perfectly angled teacups, all you really need is intention and your hands. Some easily obtainable things that might help you start are jars, herbs that double as cooking ingredients, candles, notebooks, twigs that double as wands, and boxes. Moon water is a pretty easy first thing to make, and can spice up spells that call for water. In reality, the most important part of a spell is your intention.

Are curses bad?

With the growth of Wicca has come the growth of the term 'white magic,’ and the idea that karma will send your ass to witch hell if you so much as utter poor fortune upon a wrongdoer, let alone use your craft against them. The reality is, no witch should be shamed for their personal choice is magic. Also, for beginners, the terms 'white/black’ magic are associated with racial stereotypes. Try substituting it for negative/positive energy.

How do you start witchcraft?

Just…start. Just go for it. Collect a rock you like on the street, make a potion, read a book about witches. Little things that turn into action. My biggest tip is to start by dedicating a journal to your craft, which will later turn into your Grimoire of sorts, and can help you keep track of your beliefs and how you’ve grown spiritually.

How do you start being Wiccan?

It is popular to start Wicca with an initiation ritual, though not required. Because Wicca is a religion, it’s usually typical to at least do some sort of spell acknowledging and presenting yourself to the deities.

Is Hekate the Wiccan goddess?

Nope. No no! Very common mistake. Hekate isn’t even technically a tri or multiple layered goddess! Hekate also does not aline with Wicca’s core values.

What religion is witchcraft associated with?

None! Witchcraft is an accessory to religions, and belongs to none impartcular.

Top 10 Tips For Beginners

1) There is no singular right or wrong way. Trying to mimic somebody else’s path will only result in dead ends and frustration. Don’t be afraid to try something you’ve never seen done.

2) Don’t force yourself to align with a religion or patron deity. While it may feel comforting to have a god or goddess there for you, if you aren’t prepared to maintain a relationship with one or you don’t really have any interest in them, remember that it’s okay to go solo.

3) Use what you have available. There is no need to spend tens or twenties of dollars on fancy, decorative things. Jars are available for cheap at the dollarstore, and tealight candles are great for starting out.

4) Don’t feel the need to justify your practice with “I only do the positive kind of magic” or “it’s not like…Satanism or anything…” Be confident in your craft. Come out of the 'broom closet’ when you’re ready.

5) Don’t feel like you have to choose to be a 'kind of witch.’ Hardly anyone I know only practices a single 'type’ of magic.

6) Give yourself space to grow. Tumblr makes everything seem awfully black and white, and tiny mistakes can be blown up into death threats. Educate yourself to the best of your ability, acknowledge when you messup, and learn from everything.

7) Spend time in nature! Go hiking, or if you’re a city witch, just take a stroll down the street. Humans are nature. Get outside, is all that matters. Nature is everywhere.

8) Starting a journal to track your beliefs, progress, interests, and attempted spells will make things so much simpler! Plus, it’s fun to look back on when you become more experienced and see how much you’ve changed. The book doesn’t have to be anything fancy. My first was an old composition book.

9) Ask questions. Ask stupid questions. Ask questions you think might be offensive. Bother witches with questions over and over until you get a clear answer.

10) Find magic in the little things, not just grand spells and big holidays or full moons. Find magic in getting dressed, or cleaning, or even driving.

-

This is still undergoing some editing and adding to, but I hope it helps someone :)

Much love!

@nature-is-punk

Originally posted by myfoxesandroses

ribcage. || i

Summary: college!au Where Tom is a genuine sweetheart trying to make it through college without completely losing his mind; his three close friends make it easier though. However, there’s one girl who wears the big sweaters and seems to have her head more in her sketchbook than anywhere else who changes him after he gets caught blatantly admiring her from afar. Tom takes it upon himself to make her problems his problems, but sometimes it’s just better to not stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Emphasis on the sometimes though.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Black!Reader

Word Count: 1,255

Warnings: Swearing & Staring

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stay

( i’ve been loving you for quite some time )

Summary: Being a camp counselor combines all your favorite things: kids, high adventure activities, campfires, campfire songs, watching the stars fly overhead, and a singular being who takes the name of Park Jimin.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff; Camp Counselor AU
Word Count: 12,854
Author’s Note: If any of you guys remember, I did a little camp counselor Jimin drabble for this 100 WTSILY collab I’m doing and it sparked this desire for me to expand and create more on that little world, hence where the previous inspiration came from. & !! @minsvga !! because she supported this story since the planning stages and endured the 23+ texts i had to send just to get the story to her because china does not support communication via any types of social media and apparently trying to send a 12k text is “uncalled for” on iMessages. 

.

It’s summertime, and the first few weeks had been brutal. The overpowering heat spent all its time trying to leak in through the closed windows of your house, trying to sink in through the walls, and had actually succeeded from most of its attempts—as a result, making your apartment feel not unlike an oven and letting you just boil on the very spot you stood. Your nights would be filled with laying on top of the covers, trying to will yourself not to sweat in your sleep; your days filled with sitting on the couch or debating whether or not it was worth running to your car just to drive to the mall or to the nearest Starbucks to suck in as much free air conditioner as you could muster.

Not to say that those things still aren’t relevant in your daily life, but things are only different in the slightest because today, you are in a car, drumming your fingers on the skin of your knee as your mom finally makes the turn into a parking lot. Before you, a bus lay ahead of you, a good few dozen or so other kids lingering about, either interacting with others or shifting back and forth amongst the crowd in order to try and get their duffle bags and backpacks loaded onto the bus. You recognize the pillows, the sleeping bags, the light baggage to avoid carrying too much and to avoid having too much to think about. You would know, because you are in a very similar situation—your own pillow tucked underneath your arm, your sleeping bag compressed as best as possible within your duffle bag, enough clothes to last the duration.

You know the protocol because you’ve endeared the pre-summer-camp excitement multiple times in the past, five consecutive years as a camp counselor to be more specific. Yet, you find yourself constantly returning back as a counselor because you absolutely love it. You love interacting with the kids, getting to spend some time up in the mountains where the sky was clearer, as was the lake and the meadows and every other seemingly insignificant thing that has plagued your memory over the past five summers.

You love getting to hang around other individuals who share your interests, who share your excitement for the outdoors and adventures. Speaking of other individuals, you immediately catch sight of a familiar face dashing his way towards you, bright smiles and wide grins to reflect what the next few weeks up in the mountains are going to be like.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, joining your side as soon as your mom pulls into a parking space and lets you know it’s okay to exit the vehicle. “Hey!”

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MCU Civil War Fic Recs | Stony Edition

FINALLY i’ve decided to post my first fic rec list. Caught up with my feels after watching CA:CW. THE PAIN, THE ANGST, THE HEARTBREAK </3 Anyway I’ve been reading lots of MCU Post-Civil War fics and I thought it’s time for me to contribute to our lovely fandom. Here are some of my favorites to share with y’all. Don’t be shy, feel free to share any fic recs with me (●♡∀♡) I’d love to read more!


last updated 17/7/2017.

new fics added on top :) will be updated from time to time if there are new recs.


Tony gets the phone, but he never uses it and he never intends to. Or, he doesn’t until Steve starts texting him, asking strange questions about medication and mental health, which is when Tony gets worried.

(A texting fix-it that grew beyond all proportion. Deals with depression and anxiety quite a lot. There is even some plot in there somewhere.)

Tony and Steve fall through a portal just after defeating Thanos and his army. Stranded in another dimension, the two have to finally face what happened—and what could have been.

“Tony is missing.”

Steve hears the words over Natasha and Clint’s bickering, over Sam’s snorts, over the erratic beat of his heart.

The Avengers are in the aftermath of the Civil War, trying to keep their heads above water when an unexpected portal opens up and drops a few familiar faces on their doorstep for the upcoming battles.

Never let it be said that fate doesn’t have a sense of humor.

Steve doesn’t think about having sex with Tony Stark. He certainly doesn’t plan for it. It happens anyway.

They fight Thanos—and they’re losing. And before Tony knows what’s happening, he’s standing with Doctor Strange in front of the Eye of Agamotto and gets send back in time. Can he find a way to fix things this time around, or are they doomed to fall apart all over again?

“So was I,” his soulmate would tell him one day, and what it would mean was that they loved him. 

Post-Civil War. A mission at a power plant goes south and the ensuing explosion triggers the denaturation of the serum. In which Steve insists that he’s feeling fine, Natasha gets Tony involved and pieces start being put back together. 

Tony bypasses into the mailbox every time. It drives Steve absolutely nuts. 

Tony can’t even recognize himself nowadays.

Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days.(a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Steve and Tony love each other—that would undoubtedly always be true. However, there might just be things that don’t care for love, that don’t care what it means for the two to take different sides. Things that none of them could’ve foreseen. Things that might just rip everything apart.When the United Nations attempt to put restrictions on the Avengers, Tony has to admit that the pawns had been in place for a long time, he just hadn’t dared to admit it to himself. And now, it is simply a matter of who will move first—and more importantly: in which direction.

Tony struggles with the day-to-day of leading a UN-sanctioned team of superheroes, Steve goes on a listening tour across America, and Natasha would like to remind everyone that (unlike Sam Wilson) she is not a licensed therapist.(55/200) page fancomic

When we do things, we always have a good reason. It’s other people we see as defective.

Learning to look a little harder than that will be a long journey, but it might just be worth the struggle to change.

After the civil war, everyone is left living in the new reality they’ve created — and now they have to figure out if they are willing (and able) to try again at being a real team.

If you think of life and death on a continuum, finding the point where it tips is complicated. It cuts across all political lines and gets to the root of our humanity. It requires faith informed by years of intimacy that you’re doing what’s right for your loved one.

But Tony is just a man. And there’s only so much he can do.

(Or that time when Tony does what is necessary to survive just so that he can continue to fix things and makes extremely rash decisions; because even if Steve may have left him behind, doesn’t mean Tony would do the same. Kind of.)

Everything seems to be in working order; except one day, after hoping and hoping for a chance to set things right, to prove what he had meant in his letter, that he’d be there for Tony when Tony needs him, Steve is given the opportunity to. It just isn’t what he had expected it to be. Not by a long damn shot. Sequel to Rebirth.

Strangely, or not so strangely, Steve is the one to call first.“Tony,” is all he says, low and throaty and oh so raspy.Tony says nothing. Not because he has nothing to say, but because he has too much. And maybe, for once, Steve should be the one talking.

After the Civli War, the Avengers were back together.

How is everything going, Tony? Pepper had asked in her email.
It’s fine (Tony had written back). I’m fighting with Steve all the time. Everything is going to hell. I’m okay (you know I’m always okay).

(Or: How Tony and Steve learned to be a bit gentler with each other)

It’s a mistake destroying Steve’s gesture of goodwill, Tony thinks, even as he takes an unholy amount of glee smashing that stupid phone to bits down in his lab and DUM-E waits eagerly with a fire extinguisher for the last of the letter to burn down. But it’s a mistake Tony is happy to make.

How to say ‘wish you were here’ without actually saying so, as done by Captain Steve Rogers.

One moment they’re fighting, yelling scathing insults and ugly accusations at each other, and the next they’re kissing, all teeth and anger-fuelled desperation. Steve backs him up until Tony’s shoulders hit the closest wall, and hoists him up, giving Tony no choice but to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist for support. Tony bites Steve’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and Steve growls, and grips both of Tony’s wrists in one big hand, his hold bruisingly tight.

‘Dear baby,’ he thought hysterically while dodging an arrow, ‘One day your daddy and I fought and almost blew up an airport. I hope you’re better at communication than we are.’

Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to -

“Steve?”

After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you’d expect it to.

Before Afghanistan, before New York, and long before Siberia, Tony was given the gift of Peggy Carter as his godmother.It was maybe one of the best gifts he ever received, one that kept on giving even forty years later. Because even when the Avengers are scattered, the team and his trust torn apart, there’s still one thing Tony has that no one, not Steve, not Ross, not Stane, had ever managed to take from him.A family.In the aftermath of the Civil War, Tony will need them more than ever if he’s to pick up the broken pieces of himself again. And save the world. Of course.

It was the first time they’d seen each other since Siberia. It was probably one of the worst possible ways to have an unscheduled reunion. It was also about to get worse. A lot worse. 

 Steve writes letters to Tony that he never sends. By the time he hands them to their rightful owner, Tony has had a brush with death, has retired as a superhero, and now has a small town workshop of his very own. But it’s okay, Steve has gone into retirement too.

An alternate universe where Steve wins the Civil War.

It doesn’t go well for Tony.

A deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.

Steve and Tony before, during, and after.

“But as a guy who’s never been good at anything but killing- lemme tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.”

“But nothing’s ever worth starting one. Nothing at all.”

As the dust of Civil War starts to settle- Steve begins to see a couple of things.

“Humans are machines. Fascinating ones, but fatally flawed- because we feel too much. We try our hardest to be objective; but whenever two sides are too close, we ‘follow our heart’, which means fall prey to whatever our emotions think best and fuck all that logic might have had to say about it.”

Sequel to ‘And In The Silence That Follows’. Three months after the 'truce’, AIM is on the move again, and Norman Osborn seems increasingly determined to seize power in the void that the Avengers left behind. Logic dictates that Tony should cooperate with the runaway superheroes, led by one Steve Rogers to get ahead of the situation. Too bad his trust issues don’t agree with him. Too bad humans aren’t actually machines who can turn emotions off at the flick of a butto-Oh. Hello Extremis.

Steve splays his fingers on Tony’s chest, over his heart, and Tony whimpers. “You should take better care of that, Tony,” Steve says, digging his fingers in briefly.

Tony closes his eyes. “Don’t.”

Steve laughs, and it’s cold. He trails his fingers lower. “I could hurt you,” he says, almost conversationally. “I’m a criminal now, remember.”

“He hid some things from me,” Tony says, then shrugs. “It’s fine. I hid some things from him, too. Don’t you know this story?”

616 Steve meets MCU Tony.

“You were supposed to say thank you,” Tony said after a moment, covering his eyes with his forearm. It wasn’t as if Steve could see him. “It’s only polite, you know. Happy birthday, Steve—Thank you, Tony.”

It was raining when Tony exited his car. In front of him was a church.

He wasn’t sure why it always rained nowadays, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Tony knew this weather kind of suited his mood, and his current mental state.

Attending funeral after funeral after you’ve been beaten up by the father of the embryo in your womb in Siberia before he left you in the cold, was beyond hard and painful. Tony had cried himself to sleep more than once. However, he couldn’t let anybody know, except Vision who had figured it out by himself.

“I sense a lifeform in you,” the android had mentioned to him once. “Is it… Steve’s?”

Tony remembered breaking down in front of him, after that Vision never mentioned the relationship between Steve and the lifeform in Tony’s womb again. He felt guilty, yet grateful. It had been barely a week after the incident in Siberia. Tony wasn’t ready for something that would remind him of that event, and he doubted he would ever be.

Steve never lets go of the phone. Sam thinks that it’s time for him to use it.

The written letter and cellphone never made it to Tony.

Tony never made it home.

Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man.
It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man.
Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground.
And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back.
Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It took two months and fourteen days.Well, two months and sixteen days if you wanted to be nitpicky and count the two days it had taken Tony to actually accept that yes, the phone was still lying on his desk, and no, it wouldn’t magically disappear just because he wished it so.The phone, and beneath it, that goddamn letter. If you need me, I’ll be there.

After the hell that was Ultron and the Sokovia Accords, Tony doesn’t blame the team for wanting nothing to do with him. To make up for past mistakes, Tony disappears into his lab and focuses on using his money and brains to provide the Avengers with more fancy tech than they’ll ever need. By doing this, he also doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s grim frown, Bucky’s hateful gaze, or everyone else’s cold annoyance.For six long months, this formula worked, but then fate decided to be a Loki-like dick and Tony wasn’t sure how it happened, but in the span of one week, he’d somehow acquired a kid.

He’s sitting there on the carpeted floor with blood dripping down the back of his head, holding the battered red notebook with trembling hands. He looks up from the page and tries to blink away the scribbled words that won’t seem to disappear from his eyesight. He can’t breathe, can’t get his throat to work properly because it feels like he’s being strangled by the sheer truth of what he realizes now.

They knew. Oh god, they knew.

When Tony discovers a devastating secret, it will threaten to tear apart everything they hold dear.

Steve is going to realise in the worst possible way what happens when you let pride, rage and fear cloud your judgment. What happens when you don’t listen.

“And you think you could take me, do you, Stark?”“I’d give it a good fucking try. I’d like to shove you into the nearest wall and wrap my hands around your damn neck.”“Oh yeah? And then what?”Post-CACW, a series of phone calls between Tony and Steve. 

Total: 38 fics

anonymous asked:

First line prompt Ladynoir "So I think Hawkmoth is my friend's dad."

Sorry sorry sorry for being so late. Also there’s not a TON of really shippy stuff in this, but I’m kinda proud of this scene so I hope you like it!


“So I think Hawkmoth is my friend’s dad.”

Chat squawked, nearly falling to his death. He grabbed the nearest metal beam, icy to the touch in the night’s chill, and stared at Ladybug. She looked out over the city, wide blue eyes reflecting the light. Her face was set in shadows, looking like it was carved from stone. She watched the Seine, snaking its way through the center of Paris, shimmering and rippling with a light breeze. Chat shivered and clung tighter to the beam, the breeze amplified to a bitingly cold wind this high up.

“Don’t drop something like that when I’m perched precariously on top of the Eiffel Tower, Ladybug,” he gasped. “You don’t want me to fall and turn into one of those cats with the squashed faces, do you?” As an attempt at humor, it was weak, and he knew it. It was little more than a reflex, a way to react when he had no idea what else to say or do. The set of shadows across Ladybug’s face did not change, so he gathered his wits and gave a real response. “My Lady, if you know who it is, then let’s go. What are we waiting for?”

“I don’t know if it can be that simple,” she said. Chat frowned at her, concerned.

Their patrol tonight had gone by unusually quiet. He was always the more talkative of the two, but tonight his lady had been silent as the grave. He was prepared to go home as soon as they confirmed there were no akumas that night, wondering if he had done something wrong, but just as he was about to leave she had laid a hand on his arm and asked him to talk. They always came to the Eiffel Tower to talk. Perched high as they were, with the stairs and elevators closed to tourists for the night, they could watch the city and talk, certain they were out of earshot from any curious civilians. It had taken Ladybug almost half an hour of quiet in the cold night air to finally speak up.

“What’s complicated about it?” he asked, trying to make his voice gentle. Ladybug’s fingers curled around the beam underneath her.

“Well, first of all– he’s not an akuma, Chat, he’s… He has a miraculous. He’s like us. That means that he’s choosing to transform, choosing to do these things. He’s a real criminal, not just someone who’s been brainwashed. So we… After we take his miraculous away, do we turn him into the police?” Chat ran a finger over his ring, considering.

“I’d say we make it public to the media. We don’t have the authority to arrest anyone, but if we unmask him, or get him to confess who he is, then the actual legal authorities can make whatever decisions they need to from there.” She jerked her head, nodding slightly.

“But…”

“But?”

“His… His son,” she said. Her words were choked, constrained. Chat resisted the urge to put his hand over hers in comfort. She’d probably think he was just flirting and this would devolve into an argument. “My friend. I don’t know if I can do this to him.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and turned to look at him for the first time that night. “It isn’t fair, Chat. This will hurt him so badly, I know it will. How can I…” She trailed off, shaking her head. She turned to look back at the Seine. As the city lights flashed across her face, Chat realized with a horrified start that there were tears on her face. He reached out, somewhat against his better judgement, and very lightly placed a hand on her shoulder.

“My… Ladybug,” he said. “Even if it hurts him, your friend deserves to know the truth.” He hesitated. “Although I may have been wrong about announcing it to the media. I know a little bit about what happens to kids when their parents are the focus of media attention. Maybe we should just take it to the authorities instead.”

“It’ll be a media scandal no matter what,” Ladybug said. Her voice was brittle, her eyes fixed on a bateau mouche sliding down the river. There was an undercurrent of anger in her voice that made Chat still, his hand unmoving where it rested on her shoulder. “I’m furious with him, you know. Hawk Moth. For everything he’s done to Paris, that’s all bad enough, but especially for everything he’s done to A– to my friend.” She shook her head, another tear sliding over her mask. “I know we don’t have a choice. I know that we have to stop him. But my friend doesn’t deserve anything that’s about to happen to him, and I don’t know how to help him or how to stop it.” Chat hesitated, and then carefully scooted closer, until their thighs pressed together, suits rubbing against one another, and moved his hand off Ladybug’s shoulder to rub circles across her back. He moved carefully, slowly, telegraphing his intention so she could pull away if she wanted to, dredging up vague memories of the kind of physical affection his mother used to give him.

He’d hugged her, once, after she’d quite literally leaped into the jaws of death in the form of a giant t-rex and somehow survived. It had been instinctual, practically: he hadn’t thought about doing it at all. The only thing he’d known, consciously, was the sight of her safe and sound sent through him relief so entire and overwhelming that he thought he was going to come apart at the seams. He’d hugged her out of a desperate desire to communicate whatever small piece of that he could to her. He’d hugged her because he needed to feel her safe and whole and alive more than he needed to breathe.

Chloe tried to hug and kiss him regularly, but he kept his distance as much as possible because whatever she thought was happening between them he didn’t want to encourage.

His mother used to hug him, and cradle him and kiss him, and rock him to sleep at night.

Since his mother had left, he could count on one hand the number of times his father had hugged him, all of them uncomfortable and the last one eclipsed in his mind by terrifying conversation about his ring.

Other than that, there were fist bumps and high fives and handshakes, Nino’s arm slung briefly across his shoulder, the airbrush touch of cheeks when greeting someone with a kiss. Adrien didn’t know what to do with physical affection, didn’t know how to ensure his touch would not be misinterpreted. The only thing he did know was that he needed to reassure his Lady, to tell her, somehow, that her chaton was here and he was going to support her, and he wasn’t certain that words were going to be enough.

He was so startled when she turned her face into his shoulder and sobbed that he almost flinched away. He caught himself in time, however, and reached his arm across her back to wrap around her opposite shoulder, pulling her close to him.

“Okay, shhh, shhh, it’s alright, my Lady, it’s going to be alright. Shhh.” She shuddered against him, an arm reaching up to clutch at him. Wails tore their way out of her despite her attempts to steady her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t — I should be able to pull it together, I’m sorry, Chat, I—”

“You have nothing at all to apologize for,” he murmured. He turned his head and very lightly kissed her hair, afraid he was crossing a line, but she just pressed her cheek against his collarbone, one hand trying to swipe away her tears.

“Who do I even tell first?” she asked. “Do I tell my friend, do I warn him? Or is that dangerous? What if he tries to do something on his own? Should I just go to the authorities? And would I tell my friend as Ladybug, or as… me?” Chat pursed his lips, considering.

“Do you trust me, Ladybug?” he asked. She finally sat up, eyes puffy and red.

“More than anyone,” she said.

“Then tell me who you think it is,” he said gently. “And we’ll figure out whatever comes next together, okay?” She nodded, sniffling.

“Right. Right. Of course,” she said, a chuckle bubbling through the tears. “I’m sorry, chaton.” Chat shook his head.

“Like I said, you have nothing to apologize for.” Somehow, their hands found each other. Chat wasn’t sure who grabbed hold first, but they pressed together tightly. Ladybug took a deep breath.

“I think,” she said, “I think that Hawk Moth is Gabriel Agreste.”

The world disappeared from under him and he fell through darkness.

[Please do not send me prompts at the moment, I am working through old ones]

Guilty Secrets

You couldn’t lie to my sister. Not about the big stuff, anyway, the stuff that ate away at you and kept you awake at night. I don’t know if I’d call it a gift or anything, but she had an ability. She could see guilt.

I don’t mean she was good at reading expressions or picking up on body language; she could literally see manifestations of people’s guilt following them around. It started with Whiskey, our childhood cat. Mom said he’d decided to move out to the country to enjoy his old age, but Cassidy kept seeing him lying at Mom’s feet, completely still and stiff.

She asked Mom over and over why Whiskey wasn’t moving until Mom started to sob and admitted she’d had to put our kitty to sleep. She’d felt so guilty about lying and about her “betrayal” to Whiskey, her beloved companion of seventeen years, but she’d wanted to protect us from death for a little while longer.

In her grief, Mom didn’t think to ask Cassidy how she’d known the truth.

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Sherlock X Reader: Jealousy (nsfw)

My friend helped me write this so, thanks friend

Main masterlist: X

Tag list: X

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Help! My former math teacher is a creep!

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I hope this story gets accepted when I submit this, and if it does it’s actually a serious one; A bit of a warning actually to be wary of some of your former teachers who try to get back in touch with you. If anyone would like more info or screenshots even, just hmu on here @honeyhazey.

Alright, so it was around March when my former math teacher (let’s call him Lou ) got back in touch with me via Facebook. I accepted the friend request and he immediately sent me a message; It was like 11 pm though so I decided to reply again later the next day cos I was tired. At first it seemed as if he was checking up on me, asking about my future and what do I have planned; He was a decent teacher too and he was always really intrigued by me in a way. Around 2014, he retired from CPS since the system was going downhill and he began to hate his job. Around my 8th grade year, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a breakdown and yelled at us saying that “we’ll end up working in minimum wage jobs like Mcdonalds if we don’t listen to what he’s teaching." 

So after the first text that he sent, things seemed chill and I was happy that he cared for me that much. Eventually, he’d text me everyday (usually during the evenings and late nights) but after a couple of weeks things got very weird. He started trying to offer me large sums of money, at first it was $500 but he wanted to lower it "because his wife would notice”. Lou even asked what did I want for my birthday, and since I figured his intentions were innocent at first I just said an Amazon gift card. After we stopped communicating, it was sent in the mail and it was a pretty large sum for $50. I didn’t even ask for a present from him. Next, he mentioned taking out a $100K loan on his house because he wanted to take me out to this Harolds shack near this high school and I declined cos he wanted to meet at like 9 am while I was busy with my family. (The chicken shack wasn’t even near the school…btw he claims that “he loves dark meat <3 and that he’s not being prejudice”..btw I’m Black.). Then he saved a photo of myself that was in my sophomore year (at least from Spring 2016 and it was just a photo of me posing with skinny jeans and a tank top.) and accidently sent me to me. Finally, he would send me messages obsessively and would even stalk my status to see if I was awake or not (One time, I woke up early in the morning and I checked my facebook. A minute later he messages me if I was “Up for the day.”).

Don’t get me wrong, but we did talk on the phone a few times and he’d always bring up memories from when I was in middle school. I got bullied like hell and my school was trash at the time when I was there. Lou was going through a rough time as well since the public school system was trash and he would always have these mental breakdowns teaching in my math class; SO he’d use this and my experience in middle school to relate to me and build a connection since we were both “angry tortured souls”. He even mentioned an incident back around 2015 in which one of the girls (Which I found out that it was someone I knew from him when he brought the situation up) were having a sexual relationship with a substitute teacher who was teaching there. Then, he goes on about how he felt as if she was trying to flirt with him and that he was paranoid for some reason on getting fired since the administration were thinking that he was a bad teacher at the time. He would always talk about how beautiful I was, how I looked like a goddess, and he even tried to get me to go to college in his state (he currently lives in Indiana).

So fast forward to spring break, and he continues to text and call me. I began to ignore them cos I was busy with testing and with my family. I told my mother when he first texted me, and she was happy. But I started telling her how he’d obsessively stalk my facebook status and message me multiple times if I did not answer. So she was very concerned and disturbed by the messages he would send, and told me to cut it off immediately. I told Lou that his behavior was beginning to disturb my family and I, and that it was becoming creepy. I informed him that my mother was next to me as well as I was texting him, and it took him at least 45 mins to reply back after he read the message. (He knew that my mother was a cop, and that she’d do lots of damage to his rep if he continued this.). He immediately apologized for his behavior, and made an excuse on that he just really misses his children. After I read it, he just told me that we should just forget about all of this and that he was happy to have me as “a buddy” for a month.

The next day, I informed two of my counselors about it and one of them had called 311 to report it. They told me that I should probably end up making a police report about it, and so I did. Later on that day, My mother and I went to the police station to discuss the incident with the investigators. So there was immediate action, and asked me for all of his information since some of the things that he attempted to do were very disturbing. They felt bad that I had to go through that, and his intentions made me very angry; I’ve known Lou since I was 7, and to be frank he did give me some really creepy vibes. Since then, the investigators still need to get back in touch with me since they have a large case load; But now, I’m just telling most of my friends that went to middle school with me to avoid him so the same thing won’t happen to them.

*If anyone wants screenshots of our correspondence, please message me @honeyhazey!!*

Have This

Sometimes, the heart demands feel-good smut with feelings (Probably the sweetest stuff I’ve written in a while). I just need for them to have some tender moments, okay? ;). Takes place post-4x05 

Also on AO3 [Part 3 of the Appropriation Series with @bellohmyblake


Clarke isn’t sure the dust will ever settle for life on the ground. The piercing scent of burning rubble hangs thick in the air as the orange glow finally begins to fade, swallowed up by the blackness of night.

After hours of treating inhalation injuries and burns, the stream of patients has finally trickled down to a halt. The makeshift med-bay is completely full of recovering patients, but by some miracle, none of them are in critical condition.

Harper gives Clarke a tired smile as she makes her way over. “I think we’ve got this covered, Clarke, if you need to go take care of other things.”

Clarke squeezes her shoulder with a grateful nod, “Thank you, Harper.”

She takes one more glance around and spots Bellamy on the far side of the room, speaking in hushed tones with Miller. As if he can sense her gaze on him, he meets her eyes with a barely perceptible nod. She fights the urge to squirm under a stare so intense it feels like it’s physically holding her in place.

With one look, she’s transported back to the quarry. She swallows back a bolt of nausea at the vivid memory of the wind being knocked out of her as the bag was pulled off Bellamy’s head. She reminds herself that he’s safe. He’s here. He’s still with her. He wraps up his conversation with Miller and makes his way back to her with slow, steady strides that contrast the erratic rhythm of her heart, not once taking his eyes off her.

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anonymous asked:

after this new clip i need some EVAK smut.... any recommendations ? :D

Haha, I completely understand anon! I’ve got you ;)


ONESHOTS:

  • Afternoon Kisses by DickAnderton
    Summary: What could have happened during the cuddle scene if Isak and Even had been ready for more.
  • Push by nofeartina
    Summary: ”Even, we shouldn’t do that here,” Isak says and looks around with a blush on his cheeks. He’s so beautiful like this, it makes it impossible for Even not to touch. 

  • come again, get me excited by ourheartsintertwined
    Summary: "You think you can so openly flirt with other guys huh? Is that what you fucking think?“ Or in which Isak flirts with another guy and Even punishes him about it.

  • Heaven by Skamtrash
    Summary: Isak wants Even to finger him again. 

  • The Hotel scene by Evakforlife17
    Summary: A one shot of what could have happened at the hotel scene. (Season 3, Episode 8)

  • So Fucking Glad by crescendohowell
    Summary: What happened after Even showed up at Isak’s apartment. (Season 3, End of episode 7)

  • Winter Cabin by alijan
    Summary: Isak and Even go to the winter cabin with the boys. 

  • Summer by DickAnderton
    Summary: Isak and Even have been crushing on each other for a whole year when their paths finally cross at a hipster music festival during summer break and they spend the night together. 

  • Watching Over You by lavishsqualor
    Summary: In which Even knows exactly how to loosen his boy up.

  • so you play it wild by birthmarks
    Summary: Isak is dirty. Isak is shameless. Isak is possessive. Or: before, during, and after Isak and Even made out at school on Wednesday.

  • The only thing keeping me on fire by diamondjacket
    Summary: massage therapy!au; This guy—this profoundly, unfairly, deeply good-looking guy—is going to…put his hands on Isak? On his thigh? And, like…move them around? Listen, he’s just starting to maybe, possibly come close to beginning to acknowledge that he might not be one hundred percent heterosexual, all of the time. It’s slow going—okay, fine, it’s borderline glacial—but he’s getting there. He didn’t need this today. Or: Isak’s doctor tells him to get a massage. Even delivers…and then some.

  • Plane by Aceteroid
    Summary: Even, the flight attendant, and Isak, the pilot, both work at the same airline. After a flight from NY to Paris things are heating up between them. 

  • that soft perfect spot by reasoniwantyoutostay
    Summary: Even is obsessed with a certain soft perfect spot that always makes Isak tremble. 

  • hell yeah, you the shit (that’s why you’re my equivalent) by colazitron
    Summary: Even can’t keep it in his pants, or his heart. Or: Sometimes your boyfriend proposes and you just really want to sit on his dick. 

  • sweet creature (but we’re still young) by kittpurrson
    Summary: summer camp!au; Isak meets seventeen-year-old Even Bech Næsheim at Tyrifjorden on his fifteenth birthday. Or: the one where Isak tries to convince the boy next door to put his hands on him.


CHAPTERED:

  • love and condoms by kassie  ✓ 
    Summary: Isak was about turn on his heels and say “Fuck it” and go home, when a tall, slender-looking boy approached him from down the aisle. Shit. “Finding everything okay?” he asked once he reached Isak, his face entirely consumed by his smile. Judging from his choice of clothing, the boy definitely worked here. And, by the black letters scribbled on his name tag, the boy’s name was Even. Great.. Or: Isak owes Eskild a favor and Eskild sends him out to buy condoms where he runs into a tall boy who is a little too eager to help him. 

  • Life is now. (and now, and now) by FlyByNightGirl 
    Summary: In which the clips for season 3 update, because there is so much more of Isak and Even’s relationship we haven’t seen, so. Here it is, congratulations.

  • That’s Not My Name by cuteandtwisted
    Summary: one-night stand!au; “Isak.” Even smiled, then licked his lips. “Wanna go back to my place?” - aka: Isak is an exchange student in new york city where he meets a very forward and bewitching Even.

  • hot like fire, take you higher by birthmarks
    Summary: Isak Valtersen was a teenage boy and with that came internalized feelings and avoidance of communication. He spent more time morbidly thinking about his life than actively attempting to improve it. But that was about to change soon, considering the circumstances. He was entering his first serious relationship and everyone kept telling him that “trust and communication are the foundation of every healthy relationship!” (insert eye roll here). The issue was that most of the time what he really thought about was sex. And while he knew it was normal to think about, he was more than content with ignoring the topic than experiencing how awkward it could be to discuss it. Or: in which Isak and Even fall in love, discover their kinks, and experience life along the way. 

  • High For This by givemesumaurgravy
    Summary: Just twenty minutes ago, Isak was overwhelmed with coming out to his mom in a text, and an hour before that, he was consumed by a physics test. No where on his radar for today was… this. Or even the prospect of this. Or, what happened between the elevator scene and “Princess Vivian!”

  • Relationship Moments of Evak by skambition
    Summary: A collection of oneshots about our boys. Ranges from very explicit smut to very cute fluff. 

  • Sex life by skampanda
    Summary: "What are you thinking about?“ “You. Me. Alone. In bed” Even laughed and twisted the younger boy’s curls in his hand. God, he loved his hair. “I love it when you’re so needy” He whispered in Isak’s ear with low voice. - Basically this is all about Isak and Even’s sex life.

( ✓ - completed fics)

Finding Closure (Part 6)

Summary: AU. Reader left behind a hometown full of misery to make a new home in Brooklyn. A death in the family forces her to briefly return to the place that has haunted her dreams and memories for three years. Will she finally be able to move on, or will a figure from the past change everything?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,366

Warnings: angst, language, introspection, fluff. I’m a chump.

A/N: Happy 4th, America and Happy Birthday Steven G. Rogers! I hope everyone likes this ending. I’m a chump. The gif only sorta fits. He’s so cute.  This is the final part for my submission for @sgtbxckybxrnes’s AU Challenge. My prompt was innocent enough: 28 .“____ is not a real word.” “Yes it is!”

Part:  1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Originally posted by coporolight

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