can we have these day again

I’m sorry. For everything.

“Son, you seem distraught.”

Arcann heard his mother’s voice but was reluctant to tear himself out of contemplation. The air was cold above the canyon, the breeze made sounds dissipate faster and he wasn’t aware of her footsteps when Senya approached him near the railing. Her gloved hand pressed upon his right shoulder.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, mother.”

It was alright. Odessen was safe, the Eternal Fleet was theirs again. The Commander was working hard to rally factions for peace. She worked day and night, sometimes days at a time when deployed to another system.

He barely ever saw her anymore.

“Ever since last week, when we returned from Zakuul, I have noticed you were absent from your chambers. I can’t help but worry.”

“I need to stay busy,” he replied with an assuring nod. “The Alliance needs all the help it can get, we must stay alert against any uprisings. We have known these times when father was alive.” He recalled traveling Wild Space and the Outer Rim with Thexan, crushing the resistance against the Eternal Empire. “I know we can’t afford the same mistakes twice.”

“You are valuable to us all, Arcann.” She leaned over to catch his gaze, and he faced her with a certain difficulty. “But watch yourself not to get overworked.”

His teeth were locked tightly and he managed a pinched smile if only to dismiss her concerns. It was a vain attempt, a mother always worried about her children. Arcann needed to actively remind himself that she had only one left.

He sensed her pain and her mental exhaustion. Senya looked down in turn, clutching at the railing that separated them both against a deadly precipice. His lips twisted with dread before he circled his mother in his arms.

“Oh,” she breathed with surprise. “Thank you.”

He held on to her for a moment, sufficiently long enough to realize how much he’d missed the comfort of another person being close to him.

Long enough to want more. From someone else. Of something else.

Keep reading

Week 17: Something Round

This week you get to put your creative hats on again.  Our challenge is to photograph something round!  This is a wide open challenge with very few limitations.  Use all the cool new skills you’ve learned so far to capture something special.

The only requirement this week is to include something round in your image.  It can be an outdoor shot, an indoor still life…or basically anything. 

Remember what we have learned so far.  Depth of field control, rule of thirds, fill the frame…all of these can help you create something truly unique.  Submissions are due before the end of the day Saturday April 29th.  Have fun!

- RK

I am super fucking slow, but I had a great deal of work :D Consider it as continuation of the party. @darthbiscuits​  `s B-DAY PARTY. God, look, who saw this world on this day! Maul woke up somewhere far far away and thought: “I have a good feeling about this!” And the stars got their places in a special pattern, so they do every year this day, they are crowding to look down on the  hero of the occasion and say: “Happy birthday!” Humans can`t heart it, though, and when NASA receives these signals, they can decipher it and just run around shouting: “We got it, we got it again, wtf is this, all the scientists on alarm!” So, that`s a party for so many people.

He didn`t know, that on Earth there is a strange tradition to say good wishes being in just your underwear, Kilindi told him about it.

WARNING: SERIOUS OVERLOAD OF FEELING OVER A BEAUTIFUL AND SPECIAL BIRTHDAY BOY AHEAD!

Today is the birthday of a young man so amazing, so fantastic, the world stops when his name is mentioned (or at least my world)

Today is the birthday of the one and only Min Yoongi also known as Suga or Agust D.

The first time I discovered Suga was a year and a half ago. Indeed, I had just signed up to kpop amino and someone added me to a ‘Suga appreciation chat’. And since i then wanted to fit in I was like ‘yea of course i know him’ while quickly searching for him. And before i Knew it I was trapped. 

Min Yoongi is passionate

Originally posted by youngest-k

Sexy

Originally posted by eatupbangtan

So…. dangerous

Originally posted by everydaysatanist

He is so talented. He can rap, dance, compose and write lyrics… and I’m sure there’s so much more that he can do that we don’t know about

Originally posted by mllestardust

(Even though he does like to just lie down sometimes… and by sometimes i mean always)

Originally posted by yoonmin

This Young man is someone who has 3 different personalities.

1. Suga- The idol

Originally posted by bwiseoks

The one slaving away with the constant rapping and dance, the one who is on stage slaying every time, making you forget your own name. 

2. Agust D

Originally posted by dabbingjungkookie

That is the badboy that wants to say all the raw emotions and feelings that he cannot say, that he must not say if he wants to have his career as it is. That is the one who does not filter himself, who will tell stories that are seen as taboo in the society he lives.

Originally posted by junghosyub

3. Min Yoongi

Originally posted by chimchams

Now that…. that is the soul behind the body… That is the boy who sold his everything for music… his mind, his body by working countless of hours and so much more. that is the boy tormaned deep inside. Agust D told the stories of a boy with social anxiety, depression, possible suicidal thoughts, but that is the story behind Min Yoongi. A boy who’s passions have not always been accepted. A boy who just wanted to create music and just have people listen to him.  

Originally posted by taeguk

This boy always tried to stay as Suga, only to break when receiving the Artist of the Year award

Originally posted by hopetaeguk

And honestly I love all the personas. After all, it shows that Yoongi is not someone who will shy away from what he has to say. He will not keep quiete just because something is labeled as taboo.

Originally posted by berry852

And he is not someone who will just give up. he always fights and in this sense he tells us to fight. He shows us how to strive forward, to overcome our demons. 

Despite all his issues he remains so kind

Originally posted by apgujeon

So loving

Originally posted by pastelyoonseok

 I mean, just look at him with the other members

Originally posted by vminevmin

Originally posted by taedboy

Originally posted by yoongichii

Originally posted by yoonmin

Originally posted by rapnamjoon

Originally posted by w-t-f-yes

And of course, how can I not make a small Yoongi’s smile spam… after all it is so beautiful, so pure my heart breaks and heals at the same time.

Originally posted by bfjoonie

Originally posted by yoongipassion

Originally posted by queensalad-stormbutterfly

Originally posted by jeonbase

Originally posted by pastelyoonseok

Originally posted by justgayfeeling

Originally posted by 95park-jimin

I genuinely hope that that smile never fades.

After all, Yoongi is such a beautiful human being, both inside and out. 

He is so hardworking, so loyal, so sweet, so….. Yoongi. He really is one of a kind. It always feels like an honour to see him on my screen, it seems like a privilege to see him genuinely smile. He does not deserve hate. He does not deserve misery. he does not deserve to feel lonely or hopeless or useless.

He is an inspiration, a reason to learn to move forward, to fight, to create, to try and of course to risk. 

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

I hope he has inner peace and is healthy both physically and mentally. I hope his mental state no longer becomes ‘polluted’, hope his body will stay healthy.

If I am to be honest, no words can really describe how much I love this human being. He makes my heart flutter, my day brighten up. Its ridiculous really. After all, how could I have possible got so attached? But then again, perhaps that doesn’t matter. All I know is that the feeling is extremely positive, euphoric even and I truly, truly , truly hope that something or someone makes him as happy as he makes me, as he makes us- ARMYs. 

Originally posted by sugagifs

Most of us, can’t give him much. In fact we can’t give him anything at all…. well, material wise at least. 

However, what we can give him, should give him, must give him is all of our support, love. It breaks my heart that, unfortunately, Yoongi will always get hate. After all, there will always be toxic people, jealous of some boy from Daegu actually making it, all while staying humble and true to himself. And of course, so funny.

Originally posted by aoikemi

Originally posted by berry852

But what we should do is not attack, but simply to spread our love for this amazing young man. Be positive, write positive messages and so on. Flood him with our love.

After all, he deserves nothing less.

Min Yoongi is a  precious young man. He is beautiful in all aspects of live. he is hardworking, sexy, handsome, loyal, loving, caring, funny and so much more.

He pours his heart and soul into what he writes, what he creates in order to be able to connect to us, to reach out to us as well as to express himself.

Words cannot describe Min Yoongi. Trust me, its impossible.

Originally posted by sugagifs


So happy birthday to the one and only Min Yoongi! We ARMYs have such an immense for you, you cannot even imagine… I have such an immense love and admiration for you!

Once again happy birthday! We are here for you.

Thank you for reading!

 Let’s spread the love for Min Yoongi!


Originally posted by nevermindmyg

PS. I really want to appreciate this gif at it is a masterpiece

Originally posted by galaxxxy6

And also…

Originally posted by toomuchjams

Paper Hearts Finale

Originally posted by tbhobi

Genre: Angst/fluff

♡ Pairing: Reader x Jungkook // Reader x Jimin

♡ Length: 6.4k

♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.

1  ♡2  ♡3  4  5  6  7  8 9 ♡10 ♡11 ♡12 ♡13 ♡14 ♡15 ♡Finale
♡JK ♡JM

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Top 5 most difficult hq college separations??? (It can be from the same or different years)

Bye this is gonna be so painful

1. Bokuto and Akaashi. The mother of all the college separations, I think the realization would hit Akaashi way more than Bokuto. Because he won’t say goodbye to just Bokuto, but basically to the whole Fukurodani team as we know it. Not to mention he will have to take the weight on his shoulder and be the next captain…after him. He will have to start over again, without the blinding, comforting light and force of nature that Bokuto is by his side. Practice will suddenly be so quiet, his days so empty, his life so steady and so…cold. And Bokuto…well, I know that, if he could, he’ll give up everything just to live forever in this last year they have to share. 

Originally posted by imthesixtysqueen

2. The third years and the rest of Karasuno. Ah this is gonna be another big one. All the crows are impossibly close to each other, they accomplished together a greatness that was once forgotten. I think they have this thought constantly buzzing in the back of their mind, that each game could be the last they’re playing together. And I know Furudate will show us their last goodbye and there’s no way I’m gonna be prepared to see that. To see Asahi and Noya separating, to see the transfer of power to Ennoshita, to see how desperate Hinata, and honestly all the others, would be. To see Suga smiling and saying it will be ok, that they’ll be ok. To see Daichi telling them to win, to win again, for them. I…I’m already a mess

Originally posted by doritobes

3. Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The news of Oikawa and Iwaizumi not going to the same college hit us all like a truck. They’ve been together since they were kids, always side by side. They grew up together, both as a person and as players. They are partners, on and off court. Thinking about them finding a new equilibrium without the other just breaks my heart. Because I know they would do amazing wherever they’ll end up being, but still…damn. I just wanted them to be together, forever. Seeing them saying goodbye to each other with eyes full of tears it’s an experience I’ll never recover from

Originally posted by tetsuruo

4. Tendou and the rest of Shiratorizawa. His team was the very first place where Tendou felt accepted for the wonderful player and human begin he is. The swans were his family, his home, his paradise. I can’t make myself think about how hard the separation would be on him, that he would end up being alone…again. To an extent, this same thing could be said about Ushijima, too.

Originally posted by randomyelly

 5. Kuroo and Kenma. I don’t think it would be such a devastating separation for them, since they’ve been through it once before in middle school. But that first time they knew it was just a matter of one year before they’d be reunited again, but now? They still live very close, but who knows where Kuroo would end up studying? Despite his very much annoyance, I think that Kenma finds somehow a feeling of comfort in having Kuroo by his side, always ready to protect and encourage him. They’ll both miss each other very much a lot, I’m sure of it. 

Originally posted by sknockt

Thank you for your message (and for the pain)!

Ask me my top 5 things!

smh we’re back to the good old days of s3 again, aren’t we?

people have started to already dehumanize even and make him a villain and become islamophobic and racist because clearly he has a past that involves muslim poc boys from the balloon squad, coupled with the fact that their biphobia is so transparent because even is bi/pan, that their insecure lil ass feels the need to label him as a serial cheater because they think even will cheat on isak causing evak to breakup, and the fetishizers can’t have that happen now, can they? otherwise what else will they wank and jerk off to and fantasize about?

i wanna know why some people feel the need to think in such a narrow minded way that “isak must be protected at all costs from all harm” and wrap him in cotton wool, but “it doesn’t matter if any other character gets hurts idgaf about them”. my buddy, then why are you even watching skam in the first place?

newsflash: skam isn’t all about isak. skam is an ensemble cast show. y'all treat even with such disrespect and disregard him, and have become downright ableist in doing so too, by not giving a single fuck that he has bipolar disorder.

it pisses me off when i read stupid shit like “as long as my isak doesn’t get hurt by even or the balloon squad!”, “as long as even doesn’t get hurt by sana and the balloon squad (notice how they LEAVE OUT isak here … so isak can get hurt by even, but even can’t get hurt by isak? mhmm sure jan!)”, “i will riot if evak break up they need to be together 5eva!!!”.

because? i hate to break it to you son, but, they are gonna get hurt. a lot of people in this are gonna get hurt. it’s disgusting how dimissive people are to anyone else getting hurt though, as long as their white gay ship is all smiles and happy go lucky. y'all can’t stand the other characters, especially when those characters are poc muslims connected to even with a backstory to tell about him and his past (which, around dec 2016/jan 2017 all y'all were THIRSTING over), and how those poc muslim boys, especially mikael and yousef, were hurt and upset just like how even was, by whatever went down.

as long as y'alls agenda of seeing evak pda-ing, seeing them be horny teens, seeing them make out against windowsills, seeing them kissing here and kissing there, is met, y'all are fine. lol, as soon as that agenda isn’t met, and we finally get to see them as individual characters, which they are first and foremost, with a rich history and connections with other people, hmmm, suddenly y'all are feeling “a little bit 👀 uncomfortable 👀”?

lol. this season has bought out all the ugliness these people harbour. you know what y'all are? let me tell you what y'all are:

islamophobic.
racist.
ableist.
biphobic.
fetishizers.

and all y'all can literally gtfo of this fandom tbh. we don’t need y'alls “thirst” and ugliness lurking, anyway.

Sharing

Requested by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​: A Misha x reader x Jensen in which the reader is Misha’s girlfriend, but has a thing for Jensen. Jensen returns the feelings, and they surprise the reader by telling her they’ve shared before.

Word Count: 2100ish

Warning: smut, threesome

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy! XOXO

Misha knows.

You tried to ignore it, and since you realized that wasn’t going to help, you’ve just been trying to hide it. But he knows.

You’ve been caught staring at Jensen one too many times, have laughed too loudly at his jokes, have let yourself text him about silly things in the middle of the night, and now Misha knows.

Keep reading

i think in our previous lives, we’ve always been in love with each other, estranged and held apart by a thin thread.

you were the king’s son and i was a peasant girl.
i was an aristocrat and you worked in the stables.
i was in love with somebody else.
you were in love with somebody else.
the first time we met, the world must have stopped in its tracks.
because when i first saw you in this lifetime, i felt everything freeze.

we have always loved each other from afar, each lifetime drawing us closer and closer.

the first time, you accepted a flower from me when you were riding through my village. you rode through it often, and one time you stopped, got down from your carriage, and spoke to me. but you were soon married to a princess, just like all princes were.
the second time, you helped me learn how to ride and take care of my horse. sometimes our hands would brush when we groomed him together. you were my confidant. my friend. we never once told each other what we really felt.
the third time, you were my neighbor, my best friend, and one night you kissed me during a game of hide and seek. “i love you,” you’d said to me, and for a second i loved you too. but a few weeks later i started dating somebody else. that summer, you moved away. in that lifetime, i broke your heart.
the fourth time, we had each other, for a while. our families vacationed by the same lake. you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend until you had seen everything i had to offer you. you watched me cry in front of you. your family left the next day. in that lifetime, you broke mine.

our souls knew each other before we did. they found each other from across the room and pulled us together. “it’s you,” they said to one another, “i’m so glad it’s you. maybe we can get it right this time.” and then it began, again.

this time, we could have made it if we had had the strength. the courage. but i was afraid and your heart wasn’t there. eventually, mine wandered too. we drifted, our souls still reaching out for each other even though our hands no longer were.

but this time, we knew.
this time, we told each other.
this time, we fought.
in this lifetime, there wasn’t an issue of who broke who.
in this lifetime, we merely broke each other.

i know it’s heartbreaking to think we never got a real chance.
your sobs ring as loud in my ears now as they did the day we shattered,
and they haunt me.
our time in this life together is over. we lost this round.
but each lifetime, we inch closer and closer.
and in my heart, i hope.
my soul, it longs for you still.
it has picked itself out of the rubble of yet another failure and pieced itself back together.
my soul, it knows.
“i will find you again,” it whispers into the cosmos,
“there are many lifetimes to come.”

from across the world, your soul returns,
“we will get our chance yet.”

—  reincarnate -c.h. // Instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)
Imagine Sam finding your daughter talking to Sully

“I’m telling you, she’s talking to herself.”

Sam laughed as you walked back into your bedroom, a towel around you as you dried your hair.

“I’m not kidding,” you told him. “I just walked by her room on the way from the shower, she’s chatting away to herself in there. Talking through the plot of Moana.”

You allowed yourself a small laugh at that. The kid was obsessed with that movie.

“Do you want me to check on her?” he asked, and you shrugged. “Alright.”

He kissed your cheek on his way to Katie’s room.

“An’ then she was the chief an’ then they all went voyagering on the ocean,” your daughter was saying, and Sam laughed slightly until he heard an all too familiar voice respond.

“They were voyagers? For real?”

Sam pushed the door open, frowning when he saw his old imaginary friend sat on the floor with his daughter, playing with Lego.

“Sully?” he asked, confused, and the two of them looked up at him. “What- ah, what-?”

“Daddy!” Katie gasped, “You can see him?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah sweetie. Can I speak to him alone for a sec?”

Keep reading

spring equinox part one.

clean house.

to the doormat in me; you have the right to say no. never apologize for your decisions— explain yourself only at your discretion. never feel pressured to defend your choices. you do not need a reason to put you first. let your favors be in love and come from your overflow. do not starve yourself to feed others out of fear of loneliness. serve you everyday. say “no” today. say it again. don’t waste time trying to figure out who feels what about you. you have the right to be the only person you live for. free up your time that was once full of commitments that didn’t honor you. the kind of love worth a favor is counterfeit. do not become bitter when you see the love you gave was not returned to you. continue to love with discernment. you have the right to boundaries that only abide by you, and cause no harm to others. make it a mantra for others to follow. fall in love with having a voice. now fall in love with hearing your voice. become your favorite sound. you have the right to love that won’t exploit you. there are people who are okay with you living for yourself. the love you seek flows freely within you. you have the right to please you. do what makes you smile. you have the right to relationships with those that you won’t ask you to pay with your life to love them. your love belongs where it’s appreciated most, not with the highest bidder.

to the manipulator in me; you have the right to engage in confrontations. you do not always have to concede to psychological warfare. allow people to know your wants, needs and desires in its most natural form— tell them. you do not have to live avoiding altercations. let that nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach be a reminder of your release from feeling undeserving. you have the right to ask for what you want directly, confidently. you do not have to plant seeds, use power of suggestion, and create dramatic scenes acting out roles of victim & damsel to access the affection you long for. you have the right to be honest with yourself. you have a duty to remind people how you prefer to be loved. you have a duty to know what to tell people because you know yourself. you have a right to authenticity, and a life void of ulterior motives. you can be yourself and still receive what you need. you will never have to deceive, extort, or exploit others for your needs again because you know there is enough for you. you have the right to ask for more from others. you don’t have accept everything that is given. you have the right to be vulnerable. you have a right to be safe.

to the ugliest parts of me; you have the right to believe you’re beautiful. you deserve to be showered with compliments. accept every kind word you receive without a counter argument. do not second-guess celebrations of yourself. bask in your moments of worship. you are glorious. we will never experience the unique frequency that is you, again. honor your rare existence. you are precious to me. be the best you there is. walk upright, and have compassion stored for the days that you don’t. you have the right to forgive yourself. the love you demand does not rely on successes and failures but on inherent self-worth. you are allowed to be imperfect, and you are allowed to receive love while imperfect. be proud of your work. there is healing in every mistake you made. they have a right to be seen so they can touch others. you are a picture best when complete. find beauty in your own right. join hands with the rest of your existence. i am not complete without you.

Happiness Is Homemade

also on Ao3


MooMaw’s kitchen is always filled with light.

It’s pouring through the windows above the sink and filtering through the blue and white checked curtains that hang above it.

Eric sits on the counter, right in the middle of a sun beam, and swings his little feet against the cabinets below as he licks brownie batter off a wooden spoon.

MooMaw has the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she uses a spatula to scrape the last of the batter into the pan.

The cord stretches from the wall and Eric extends a sock covered foot out towards it and tries to touch it with his toes.

It sags before he can get to it as she steps forward and takes the spoon from him.

He only has a second to pout before she’s putting the spatula in the bowl and the bowl in his lap and ruffling his hair.

Keep reading

  • Jess: *is sitting behind Lena's desk* And what did we learn today Ms. Luthor?
  • Lena: *recites* Never get a temp Secretary while you're gone because they might turn out to be evil and in cahoots with my mother.
  • Jess: And?
  • Lena: *pouts* And I promise to never do it again. Can I get my desk back now?
  • Jess: No. You get my desk for the rest of the day.
  • Lena: But Kara and I were supposed to have lunch here.
  • Jess: Well then, I guess you should of thought about that before you tried replacing me with some two bit wannabe never gonna be me assistant, right Ms. Luthor?
  • Lena: *gulps* I know Jess. Sorry Jess.
  • Jess: You may go Ms.Luthor.
  • Lena: *heads out* Yes Jess.
  • Kara: Uh Lena, what are you doing at Jess's desk?
  • Lena: *pouts* I rather not talk about it.

Cristiano wins Portugal’s player of the year at the FPF Quinas de Ouro Awards (20.03.17) 

(src: @FCPortoGlobal on twitter)

PT: ”Falar mais um bocadinho… Bom, como disse anteriormente, 2016 foi um ano de sonho - a nível pessoal, a nível coletivo… Aquilo que conquistei no Real Madrid foi super importante - a Liga dos Campeões. Mas acho que a cereja no topo do bolo foi o Europeu, sem dúvida alguma. Foi a primeira vez na história de Portugal e, de certa forma, é especial. Para mim foi especial porque era o último troféu que me faltava e, por isso, fiquei super contente.

Agradecer, uma vez mais, aos meus companheiros do Real Madrid e, obviamente, aos meus companheiros da Seleção, ao mister, todo o staff que esteve connosco, que nos acompanhou e a todos os portugueses - tenho de frisar uma vez mais, porque acho que eles foram super importantes na nossa conquista do Europeu, porque nos deram confiança e fizeram-nos acreditar que, realmente, as equipas favoritas também podem ganhar, e foi isso que aconteceu. As coisas correram… no principio, lembro-me, foi muito difícil, mas a crença sempre esteve presente: no nosso treinador em primeiro lugar, e em todos nós jogadores. 

Por isso, foi um ano de excelência - a nível pessoal e a nível coletivo - e, como digo, foi um ano de sonho. Por isso, estou muito contente. Obrigado a todos e… [em espanhol] Pasadlo bien!”


ENG: “Talking some more… Well, as I said before, 2016 was a dream year - at a personal and collective levels… What I achieved in Real Madrid was super important - the Champions League. But I think the icing on the cake was the Euro, without any doubt. It was the first time in the history of Portugal and, in a way, it’s special. To me it was special because it was the last trophy that I was missing and, so, I’m super happy. 

Thank you, once again, to my team mates in Real Madrid and, obviously, to my team mates in the National Team, to the mister, to the entire staff that was with us, that accompanied us and to all the portuguese - I’ve got to emphasize this once again, because I think they were super important in our conquest of the Euro, because they gave us confidence and made us believe that, really, the favorite teams can win as well [note: I can’t speak for Cristiano but I think he meant to say the ‘non favorites’ here] and that was what happened. Things were… in the start, I remember, it was really hard, but the belief was always present: in our coach firstly, and in all of us players.

So, it was a year of excellence - at a personal and collective levels - and, as I say, it was a dream year. So, I’m very happy. Thank you to everyone and.. [in spanish] Pasadlo bien!”

What Do You Feel?

Who: Jughead Jones
Where: Riverdale

{Decided to try out a jug imagine}


Part One ||| Part Two 

[Y/N] had, had enough. She couldn’t stand the one-sided tension between herself and Jughead. She respected Jug enough to give him space and time for this novel of his. She was thrilled about his idea and fully stood by what he was trying to achieve. [Y/N] would always support Jughead in everything he did because she absolutely loved him for who he was. She would never dare try to change a single thing because that was what made Jughead, Jughead.

But, this summer and the beginning of the school year was driving her insane. She felt second best and despite knowing that Jug needed to invest as much time as he needed into this novel, she just couldn’t’ stand having one-sided conversations. [Y/N] needed to know if anything more was going to come out of their odd relationship.

Nothing was ever talked about what they were, it just sort of happened. It was known that [Y/N] was off limits to any boy in Riverdale and not that Jughead had a line of girls waiting for him but it was clear who had his attention. Even Archie and Betty never talked about it, it was just there. A relationship built without words. But, [Y/N] needed answers. She could deal with the little notions of affection Jug would throw in her direction. In fact, she loved it. She loved that Jughead would reach across the table and gently grab her hand and hold it while he reread paragraph after paragraph; running his thumb over the top of her hand while she worked on her homework or read a book. She especially loved it when he’d just look at her and cup her face and press his warm lips against hers. Or when he’d gently bump into her on their way to her house and swiftly fit her hand inside his. And even the moments when he’d finally put his laptop away and they’d binge watch horror movies and pull her into his chest.

No words. Just actions. And [Y/N] could live with that. But being blatantly ignored and feeling as if she was talking to a brick wall, just wasn’t cutting it. She couldn’t sleep at night thinking that everything she had tried to talk to Jughead about, he didn’t even hear. It was frustrating because she was a human being that wanted to talk out her feelings. Express her everlasting love she had for him and wanting to know if he felt the same.

“Jughead.”

The tone in her voice snapped Jug from his thoughts, tearing his eyes from his screen. His brows furled as he looked at her standing in the doorway of the Blue and Gold news room. “[Y/N]?”

Stepping inside, she flickered a look towards Betty who gave her a concerned look. [Y/N] was never stern, and it was odd that she sounded so. “Could you give us a minute, Betty?”

Betty nodded, ruffling around and gathering papers to sort through in another room. “Of course, [Y/N]. Um, I’ll be back later.” Zipping by her friend, she exited the room.

“We need to talk.” [Y/N] said with the same tone as before, she was fidgeting with her fingers, trying to figure out her next words. It was now or never.

Jughead chose to ignore her strange behavior, “I really can’t, I’m finishing up the last few pages of this chapter.” Turning his focus back onto his laptop, his fingers started typing away. “You understand.” He spoke quickly before diving back into it.

An irritated sigh came from her lips as she turned around and shut the door. Slamming it loud enough to catch Jughead’s attention again. Turning to face him, she crossed her arms across her chest. “That’s the thing, Jug. Your novel is exactly what I want to talk about.”

Sensing that [Y/N] was as serious as her tone, he turned in his chair to face her. Nodding, he motioned towards the air. “Okay, shoot.”

“Am I second best to it?” She asked, her voice faltering a little. Her eyes were drilling into his, glossed over from feeling the emotion building inside her.

“What? No.” His eyes squinted, slightly shocked she asked. “What does that even mean, [Y/N]?”

“Second best, Jughead. Am I a less adequate, less desirable alternative?”

“Why would even ask me that, [Y/N]?”

Tears were brimming her eyes, taking a deep breath, she walked over towards him. Pulling a chair right in front of him. She sat down, her heart sinking further into her chest. Afraid to venture into this conversation. “Jughead, I love this novel of yours. I think it’s great, and if anyone is going to write about this town, it’s you. No one else could ever pull it off like you will.” Pressing her lips together, she looked up at the cracked ceiling. “But, it seems like that’s all you ever do. We used to talk to Jug. Talk all night about everything and anything. And when we would, I forgot where I was for the moment. All that mattered was that you and I were together. And that one day we would leave this town together and embark on this adventure away from Riverdale. But, I feel like you don’t feel the same.”

Jughead took in her words, analyzing them in his head. Taking in her hurt tone and trying to understand them. Was he invested in his novel, of course. Did he want to make [Y/N] feel like she was second best? Absolutely not. As much as he was a fluid with his words on paper, speaking them out loud was a different story. Jughead wasn’t normally one to shy away from voicing his opinion or putting his two sense in something he shouldn’t. But when it came to [Y/N], she took the literal words straight from his mouth and put them in a blender. He could never express what he felt other than by just showing her what she meant to him.

“Can you say something, Jug?”

Biting his lip, he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, [Nickname].”

Sucking in hair, she ran both hands through her hair. “I want you tell me what you feel, Jug. I want to know what you truly think of me. If I’m just crazy and think what we have is more than what it really is. You write so beautifully, Jughead. I’ve read your stuff and for someone who’s so elegantly articulate, you never use them with me. I want you to use your words, Jug.” Her voice was breaking and it pained Jughead to see her so upset. How did he not see this coming? How could he have been so blind?

“[Y/N],” He started, his mouth pursed as he tried to pick the perfect words from the garden in his brain. “We function without words. That’s how it’s always been. I couldn’t tell you when we started us, because in a way we were always us. Just somewhere along the line, you and I delved into different world and never left. It worked. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I care about you, [Y/N]. It’s written clear as day on my face when I kiss your lips.”

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “That’s the point. We never talked about us and maybe we should have because I’m so confused, Jug.”

His brows knitted together, the wrinkle along his forehead becoming more defined. “What are you confused about, [Y/N]?”

Looking at him in his eyes, she calmly asked. “Is your novel more important then what we have?”

Jughead hesitated, the words getting caught in his throat. Closing his mouth, he shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, Juggie.” She breathed, a tear falling from her eye. “If you had to think, then I know my answer.”

“What do you want me to do, [Y/N]! This is who I am, you knew this before you dived head first into my dark waters. I am not the only one to blame for this.”

Standing up, [Y/N] whimpered out. “I want you to fight for me, Jug. I want you to tell me I’m being crazy and that this-whatever I’m feeling will pass. That you’ll make it up to me or that you love me or something.”

Jughead stood up too, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know what to say, [Nickname]. What I feel for you can’t be described because I really don’t know what I feel. You’ve always just been there, [Y/N]. I care for you, I do. I just don’t know what more I can give you then what I’m already giving you.”

She stepped forward, “What do you feel when you kiss me, Jug? What do you feel when you hold my hand? What do you feel when I’m lying on your chest in the middle of the night? What do you feel when you haven’t seen me all day? Do you even feel anything for me at all? Am I just some girl you can practice on for the real thing?” Tears were falling now, she couldn’t hold them back anymore. “We’ve been best friends since were six, Jughead. I’ve grown up with you, watched you turn into the person you are and fell in love with it all. You’re flaws, you’re oddly humorous morbid personality, everything.”

Shaking his head, and turning slightly away from her. His hand reached up to his forehead, “[Y/N],” he warned.

Taking in a deep breath to settle her tears, she scrunched up her nose and wiped underneath her nose. “I can’t do this anymore, Jug.” Biting her lip, she held back a whimper at his darkened facial expression. The cold look he gave her was enough to shatter her fragile heart.

“So, that’s it, then?” Jug asked coldly.

Avoiding his harsh stare, she softly spoke out. “I asked a simple question and you couldn’t give me the answer. So why should I pretend that I never asked? I screwed up, I had this picture in my head of how we are supposed to be and we are far from that picture.”

“You’re throwing away years of friendship because-“

“-because I love you, Jughead. It’s just like Betty and Archie except in our case, you fed it. You kissed me, you held me, you caressed me. Over and over again.” Moving the chair back to its place, she wiped away more tears. “I’m too emotionally invested in you to continue our friendship right now but maybe when I get over it, we can go back to how it used to be, the days before you first kissed me on my front porch.”

“[Y/N],” he called out to her.

Shaking her head, she headed for the door. Swinging it open, she looked over her shoulder and pressed a smile. “I’ll always love you, Jug. That I have no control over but they say the soul usually knows what to do to heal itself, the only challenge is to silence the mind.”

Jughead watched her walk out of the news room, his heart pounding in his chest. What in the world just happened? Never in a million years would he have ever pictured his life without [Y/N]. She was essential to his life. She had always been there, always. Despite Archie being his best friend, so was [Y/N] but in a different way. She believed in everything he wanted to do, no matter how crazy. She was always someone he could rely on no matter what. And even though she would still be present in his life by going to the same school.

It felt like a part of him had been ripped from his body and thrown away, lost in the cruel world they lived in. He felt empty.

“Juggie?” Betty was leaning against the doorframe, “Everything okay?”

He stood there for a minute, still stunned that apart of him just walked away from him. “No.” He shook his head, “No, everything is not okay.”


Goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished and the book has been closed – jnd

The “Just the thought of Team Cap walking all over Tony makes me want to trash my room, I just want unashamed, biased, pro-Tony quality content, is that too much to ask??” inspired ficlet I’ve been holding back for a while:

Bitterness ahead, guys. Not Team Cap friendly. Nor is it particularly deep or rational. I just wanted to get a couple of thoughts out of my head. Basically Tony is done being the team’s sugar daddy, only it comes to light in a very roundabout way. 


“When are my arrows gonna be fixed anyways?” Clint grumbles, rubs a hand over his sore shoulder. The one that wouldn’t have gotten injured, had his shot hit the target it was supposed to. Which it should have, his aim had been fine. The problem were the arrows. Someone must have screwed up somewhere in the production because they weren’t perfectly balanced.

They’re sitting in the conference room at the (mostly) restored compound. Tony is tapping away on his StarkPad, not even bothering to look up. He must have felt the questioning glances and noticed the silence, but he still doesn’t react.

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to encourage the tension between them, things are bad enough as it is. If only Tony would put in some effort as well, instead of going out of his way to antagonise them, maybe they could make some actual progress.

“Yo, Stark!” Clint snaps, voice reaching that biting sharpness he reserves specially for the billionaire. “I’m talking to you!”

Tony shows no outward reaction, which is strange to see. Back when they first came back, he used to move at all times, sharp and erratic, never staying still. Steve shakes his head at their unnecessary power play.

Tony answers before he has the chance to reprimand them though. “How would I know?” he asks, a brief frown flittering across his face as he scribbles something down onto the tablet.

The outraged look on Clint’s face tells everyone present that this meeting won’t get back on track any time soon. It’s understandable, really. Clint has been forced to fight three battles with faulty equipment and frankly, the lack of concern Tony is showing for his team mates’ safety is nothing short of callous. Steve knows things haven’t been good between them but this is the first time he wonders if things could really be so bad, that Tony would hold necessary equipment back on purpose.

It’s a terrible thought, but try as he might, Steve isn’t able to shake it off.

At least the rising tension finally causes Tony to look up and meet Clint’s glare. He’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re inside, like he always does. Steve doesn’t like it. Makes it harder to read Tony, to tell what he’s really thinking. Absently, he admits that this is probably why Tony wears them so religiously.

“What do you mean ‘how would you know’?!” Clint snarls, enraged. “My arrows have been acting up for weeks and you still don’t know how to fix it?!”

Tony stares at Clint, the expression on his face unreadable. Then, after a long, long moment of heavy silence, the answer.

“I’m not fixing your equipment.”

For a moment, it’s deadly quiet, as Steve struggles to process the meaning of what Tony has just said.

“Tony,” Steve hastily inserts himself as soon as he finds his voice again, before Clint can throw himself across the room and deck him, “I know there are still some issues we all have to work through, but that’s not an excuse to-”

“Hold it right there, Rogers,” Tony interrupts. It’s never Cap, always Rogers these days. The pain the distinction causes still catches Steve by surprise more often than not. “I’m not sure where you get this from but I’m not your mechanic. I don’t work for you. So if Barton here has an issue with his weapons, he needs to take it up with the people in charge. Considering how often you remind me that it’s not me, you’d think you’d have figured that part out already.”

“But it’s not working!”

Tony sighs. The deep, heavy sort of sigh you usually expect from an exhausted parent after their insistent child asks, “Are we there yet?” for the 34th time. “Then take it up with the quartermaster. Or Agent Hudson. Or one of the techies. Seriously, Barton, you signed the Revision. Who’s responsible for what is right in there, section 12 to 17. Besides-” he pauses.

“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Clint demands between gritted teeth, hands curled into tight fists. Thankfully, he’s not throwing anything. Yet. “Don’t get shy with me now!”

Tony straightens in his seat. Steve inwardly sighs. That man has never been able to let a challenge go unanswered.

Besides,” Tony continues, voice still surprisingly even, “chances are they’re working just fine.”

“You think I can’t tell when my bow isn’t fucking working the way it should?” Clint bristles.

The words actually cause Tony to lower his sunglasses for a moment, just to make sure there is no doubt about how stupid he believes Clint to be. “I’m saying you’re operating with a standard bow, Barton. The fabric and the construction limit the performance quality. Something I’m sure an experienced archer like yourself has picked up on.”

And yes, things are definitely getting ugly. That level of glacial cold in Tony’s voice is rarely achieved, even now.

“The why the fuck did you build a subpar bow?”

Tony sighs again. “You’re missing the point. Seriously, I can not believe we’re even having this conversation. I did not build that bow, Barton.”

And that’s–that’s a surprise.

Tony’s gaze trails over them all, taking in their confused, shocked expressions. “Really?” he asks, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “Did any of you even read the Revision? The Avengers’ are an official unit. Their weapons and uniforms can’t be provided by a private party, especially not one who is part of the team. Have you ever heard the term conflict of interest?”

“What about Stark Industries?” Natasha asks. From the furrow in her brows though, Steve suspects she already knows the answer–and doesn’t like it one bit.

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” and now there’s no mistaking the mocking in Tony’s tone, “but SI doesn’t sell weapons anymore. It was kind of a big thing, couple of years back.”

“But- But yours are better!” Clint splutters. It sounds plaintive and weak, even in Steve’s ears, but at the same time he knows what Clint’s struggling to say. It’s not about getting your toys taken away. It’s about their safety and efficiency in the field. On bad days, it’s about the survival of their entire planet.

“I can’t believe you would risk the teams’ lives and safety like this because of a petty argument,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet any longer, nor bothering to hide the honest disappointment.

Tony, unimpressed as always, simply snorts. “You’re an official unit, but before that you’ve been working for SHIELD for years. Did you ever have the very best equipment mankind was capable of providing at the time? No,” he answers his own question in a breeze, “you didn’t. Why? Because you’re agents, soldiers. And sure, the government wants to protect us, wants to keep us alive and make sure our missions succeed. But they have limited funding, which means everyone has to deal with the best cost-efficient option available. If you’ve got the right connections to get something more, then lucky you, but that makes you an exception, not a rule.”

“You don’t need to explain real life to me!” Clint snaps aggravated.

“Then why do you feel entitled to something better?” That question, sharp and cutting, makes the archer still, his mouth open but with no retort forthcoming. Tony is blinking at him now, head tilted sideways in child-like curiosity.

“Of course, if I, as a private citizen, decided to build something that doesn’t violate any laws and give it to a friend as a gift, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?” Tony continues after a moment, voice softer now, but no less cutting. His eyes are fixated on Clint, sunglasses pushed back, eyes dark and unmoved. “The average update would take me what, a week or two? That’s a lot of time to invest into a single project, especially when the ultimate use is so limited. How many people can possibly profit from improved protective vest versus how many people improve from an exploding arrow is a really fascinating comparison to make.”

“So you see, Barton, even if I could improve your bow, there’s no logical reason why I should waste my time like this.”

“Tony!” Steve interrupts, scandalised. “Clint’s life depend on his aim! Our lives depend on it! How can you justify not providing him with the most basic necessities.”

Tony doesn’t even try and look abashed, instead he throws his head back and laughs. “This is how you want to play it, Rogers? Because I’m rich and a genius, I owe it to you to devote my time, attention and money to bettering your lives? What about the seven billion other people on this world? Don’t they deserve the same consideration, hm? What makes you so special that I should put your needs before anything else?”

Steve opens his mouth, but Tony doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I tell you what this is: this is you realising I’m no longer spoiling you rotten because you are in fact not my kids and I can cut you off whenever the fuck I want. And you don’t like it. Because guess what, I may be privileged, but so are you! You’re heroes, most of the time, as far as the world is concerned. You’ve been living off my money and resources on top of that. You’ve always gotten special treatment and you like that. You’re as far detached from the ‘ordinary man on the street’ as I am, you just don’t have the self-awareness to fucking notice!”

Tony sends them a sardonic smile that does in no way take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll still be special. It’s just no longer my name footing that bill. Because we’re not friends. And as a business man, I’m not at all sorry to tell you that you simply aren’t worth investing into.”

And with that he stands, all blinding press smile, sweeps around dramatically, and strides purposefully out of the room. The automatic door closes noiselessly behind him, but he might have as well slammed it shut for all the difference it would’ve made.

It’s likely not a coincidence, that on their next mission Spiderman, Vision and Miss Marvel all showcase new, incredibly features and weapons that can’t have been created by anyone else. And it’s impossible to know for sure, what with the mask on, but Steve is one hundred per cent certain that Spiderman is smirking at them.

He is not wrong.


Let me know what you think? And please excuse any mistakes, I’ll re-read this tomorrow. Also this is the last post for today. I’m tiredtiredtired now and think I’ve spread enough bitterness for the day. And spammed your dashes with enough endless posts probably…oops.

mariaoswin  asked:

Hi Cassie! First of all, I want to say that I'm so grateful that you created the Shadow world. And I also hope you are not so sensitive to criticism and hate as I am. We really love you and you should never forget about this. So, I have a question. Tessa was the last Starkweather as we know from TID. How then could Hodge exist in TMI?

I think we all remain sensitive to criticism and hate, but we do grow thicker skins over time – we can’t not. But time and many years teaches you patterns; watches how misogynistic systems work to demonize and thus delegitimize women isn’t pleasant but does provide a way to frame your own experience. (Which means that even though there are comments literally on that post, which is about demonizing women and accusing them of things they have not done so as to make yourself feel more comfortable in separating Bad Ladies from the ownership of their work, that say “But you are a bad lady and thus should not be allowed to write any more Malec, don’t you understand YOU ARE BAD?” I barely note them as anything but ‘another one of those.’)

In short: hate sucks, but I have an amazing group of fans, friends and colleagues who provide incredible support. And I have my work, which I love. I have Magnus and Alec to talk to. :) And the other day I rode an elephant in Northern Thailand. I can’t complain too much.

As for the Starkweathers I actually don’t think Tessa was the last, we know some of her ancestors fled England because of the horror of what happened to Adele and what become of Tessa’s grandfather. But remember even if she had been, when a family dies out, an Ascendant can choose their name and start the family again.

The Labyrinth Chapter 34

Originally posted by bts-we-are-bulletproof

Genre: Gang AU/ High School AU

Pairing: Reader/Jimin ft. all the members

Length: 3.8k

Summary: Looking back on your past, your life has never been anything out of the ordinary. Although your parents had left you on one mysterious night, leaving you little to no explanations, you live out the rest of your years residing in a new town under the custody of your aunt. That is, until you return to your hometown to investigate the whereabouts of your parents during your senior year in high school. It was that fateful decision that led you to find a boy collapsed on your front porch one night, wounds gaping and life fading when your entire life is spun out of control. Somehow being dragged into a life of crimes in the underground business of his, you discover the twisted secrets hidden behind the world you thought you had known all along. 

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They met at a dog park.

Which is weird in and of itself because a) Dean hates driving dogs in his baby; b) it’s not even his dog; and c) He’s still pissed at Sam for skipping out on him and their dad only to come back with a dog sized golden retriever he named Bones of all things. Jesus, Sam, you’d think you’re have a little more imagination considering you hid from one of the best damn trackers for two weeks only to name a dog after something we see every day. 

Dean sighed to himself. All that and he still has somehow found himself on pooch duty in some dog park in the middle of Illinois of all things. 

“He is limping.” Dean turned to the sound of a gruff voice coming from right behind in. 

“Yeah well, he’s old.” His comeback was coming out before he got a good look at the guy he was talking to. 

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