damaged love damaged

I watched the musical (again) last night and the ending just really fucked me up. In the musical Veronica still loved JD but she can’t because of what they did. In the movie she’s really mad and wants him gone. When JD dies in the movie it’s probably because he feels like nobody loves him anymore and he’s better of dead while in the musical JD trades his life for Veronicas’ and she doesn’t want him to die. That made me really sad. And i’m sad that i’ll probably never see the musical with the original cast on stage.

4

There’s nothing childish about caring.

anonymous asked:

Ik it isn't bitter sunday but like what if tony had a daughter and team free loader tries to go back to the compound and she gives them a piece of her mind ft. Pepper,Rhodey, & Peter

Her name is Vic because of course Tony names his daughter Victory. She is almost as tall as Tony–she’ll get there one day, of that she’s sure–has her father’s curly, brown hair and her mother’s grey eyes–and, as her mother likes to joke sometimes, both of their worst qualities. She’s petty and sharp-tongued and never quite knows when to quit, and she adores Tony almost as much as Tony adores her.

Only Pepper, Rhodey and Peter are smart enough to be terrified of her.


The first time Pepper realises the extend of the Wrath Of Vic™ she’s leading the redeemed Avengers into their old compound. It’s still official SI property and since Tony refused to be here Pepper has decided to handle the team herself. She’s got plans.

Plans she never gets the chance to enact. Because when they arrive at the compound, Pepper is as surprised as everyone else to discover that they aren’t alone. And that every wall–every wall in the entire building, how did she even do that–is painted in the most galling, eye-paining shade of orange she has ever had the misfortune to see.

She doesn’t let any of her surprise show of course. Pepper hasn’t worked for Tony for years for nothing. Besides the returning “heroes” expressions are very gratifying indeed.

The orange isn’t the only new decoration either. In every place where there used to be the trademark Avengers sign, there is now Traitors written in poisonous green letters on the walls. The floors have been covered in a very cheap, very ugly carpet with a lot of suspicious spots Pepper decides she doesn’t want to investigate. The kitchen is filled with food.

Weeks old food.

Pepper is starting to suspect that Vic has been preparing for this ever since the Congress finally decided to take up negotiations on the Accords again.

(She is wrong. Vic has been preparing for this day since she spent seven endless hours in an impersonal hospital waiting room, awaiting the news of her father’s fate.)

The furniture in the personal rooms is mostly still there, if now covered in spray-painted graffitis. Mostly there seem to be a lot of penises and middle-fingers from what Pepper can make out. It’s so pointlessly childish she has to hide her face behind a file for a moment to hide a stubborn smile.

Dirty footprints, drops of paint, greasy hand prints on the windows, dust…the place is a mess.

Pepper is so busy pretending not to bask in Steve Roger’s horrified disbelief, she almost misses the girl sitting cross-legged in the middle of the common room–on the only spot of clean floor available–typing away on a laptop.

“Oh, you’re here,” she comments, shuts her laptop.

Rogers frowns. “Who are you?” he asks distractedly, apparently still in too much shock by the state of his home.

Vic blinks, once, twice, then smiles with all her teeth. “My name is Victory Stark. You may remember meeting my father, Anthony Stark.”

The announcement is met by stunned silence.

“I didn’t–didn’t know Tony had a daughter,” Steve manages to get out eventually.

Impossibly, Vic’s grin widens. 

“Don’t worry,” she says as she gets to her feet, shoulders her bag, “You’re unlikely to forget any time soon.”

And with that she pirouettes on her heels, kicking an open can of Red Bull until it falls over and spills on the ground where she sat just a moment ago, and strides out of the room, humming I’m sexy and I know it as she does so.

[”How did you do it? You’d have to have been painting day and night to do this much damage in such a short time!” Pepper asks curiously a few hours later.

“Would’ve been some well-spent weeks.” Vic shrugs unapologetically. “Wasn’t necessary though. I just asked on craigslist if any Iron Man fans felt the need to make their feelings known to the dear Captain.”

“And proprietary damage is what you came up with?”

“Oh, no.” Vic’s smile is unholy. “That’s just the start. I got together with some girls from my school to brainstorm. Honestly, how more people aren’t deathly afraid of cheerleaders I’ll never know.”

…Pepper knows better than to ask.]

no offence but i’m not going to apologize abt being gay OR about being angry about tumblr’s censor feature since the problem is directly linked to gay and lesbian being filtered as NSFW. this is not a coding problem. this is a homophobia problem because more and more websites including youtube are treating lgbt content as “not safe for work” because for some reason these companies believe that it’s “unsafe” for children to be exposed to same gender attraction. my sexuality is NOT sensitive content for minors because I AM the minor you are worried about

okay but lets be real super innocent ‘yona is the only for me’ hak is completely canon okokok if yona kissed him his puny thunder beast legs would turn to a newborn deer the poor boy would probably explode

*drops mic*

i thought about death last on a tuesday. i thought about how decay is supposed to smell sweet and i wondered what that meant for its taste. i have no intention to find out, though i know curiosity, like cat to mouse, has a way of digging her claws in.

i thought about life last night. not just the sunrise, or the stars. not just the way the world goes dizzy at the edges when you hold your breath, but the way that the air feels in the aftermath of a storm. particles lightning-charged with the same kind of life that lingers in the synapses of a brain at the edge of discovery.

this morning i thought about you. you. you are hard to fold into words. i find that your curves do not like the way sentences feel when i try to hold them up against you, to see if i caught your image within them. the comparison is as weak as i was when i saw you last tuesday, or when you smiled at me last night.

tonight? who knows. the thing is, i think these days i laugh more than i cry, but i still think about death. i haven’t looked at the stars in a while but i still see them, and i will always watch for storms. you do not complete me as i was a person before you, but i like that we could live alone. it means we choose not to.

l.s. | i still think © 2017