dingy

lovelifelyrics2  asked:

Hey I've read both of your Jughead leaving when Betty was pregnant fics and I don't know if you were planning on writing more but I would love it if you did. I think they're awesome and would love to read more!!

Sure! ThNks so much!
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Betty stared at her reflection in the mirror, tugging on the soft white, strapless dress and playing with her silky blonde curls. Pregnancy had been good to Betty, her skin was smoother than ever and her hair was down to her back. She thanked god for the fact that she was able to lose the baby weight so fast, she was lucky, she knew that and she had her amazing son to thank for it. Another one of the amazing things he brought into her life.

“You look amazing. Stop messing with your hair. he’s gonna regret the day he walked out of that door.” Veronica came to stand behind Betty, placing her hands on her shoulders and resting her chin close to her face. Relaxing into her best friends embrace she sighed, her fingers smoothing down the dress.

“I feel like I’m back in highschool all over again, like I’m going to meet him for our Friday night dates at Pops.” Betty sighed miserably. “I don’t even know why I’m putting any effort into this, he left once, he’s just gonna leave again.”

Veronica shook her head
“Not this time B, I swear to god if he leaves you and Hunter I will personally have daddy track down the son of a ….” she trailed off at the sound of little feet scampering into the bedroom and crawling onto the bed. Hunter crossed his legs and sat comfortably, holding his stuffed white sheepdog and looking in awe at his mother.

“Look pretty mama.” He reached a chubby little hand out, still clutching the dog. Betty walked towards him and kissed his open palm before kissing the dingy white toy.

“What does hotdog think? Am I the cats meow?” Betty wiggled her eyebrows and spun around, putting on a show for her little man.

Hunter clapped his hands and barked, giggling and grinning.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Nerves forgotten for the time being as she took comfort in her favorite boys laughter.

“I hate to break up the fashion show, but it’s quarter to six. You might wanna get going.” Veronica shrugged carelessly “or you can skip it, forget he ever came here and order takeout.” She grinned wickedly.

Alice Cooper walked through the door at that exact moment and instantly began cooing at the two year old clutched in Betty’s arms

“Go on Elizabeth, destiny waits.” She plucked Hunter from Betty and headed for the kitchen.

Rolling her eyes, Betty grabbed her purse and walked through the front door, waving at Verona and driving off in her mini van (it was much cooler than a mom van and she used it to deliver flowers, Thankyou very much)

She arrived at Pops in no time at all, instantly heading for the door, if she stopped to think she would turn right back around.

It was almost too much to handle, there he was tucked in his regular booth, sleeves of his denim jacket rolled up and a familiar slump to his posture, his eyes lit up when she walked in and she remembered a familiar sight three years ago on prom night.

Shaking her shoulders she slid into the booth across from him
“Hello.” She tried to come off as uninterested but the way he was staring at her made her breathing slow and her heart race.

“Hey bets.” His voice was cautious and shaky as he slid the vanilla milkshake towards her.

Betty looked down at the drink and sighed, here goes nothing.

Finally getting to look at her fully, She looked like the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her bright green eyes were something he had never forgotten, but to see them again in person was almost surreal, his eyes lingered on her honey blonde hair, it was longer now and he physically had to grip the table to keep from running his fingers through it. Finally his eyes dipped lower, taking in all of her new curves, he remembered a time where he knew her body like the back of his hand but now.. now there were new dips and lines and deliciously soft skin, the familiar scent of vanilla and peaches invaded his senses and his eyes nearly rolled back. She was everything he remembered and so much more.

“You wanted to talk?” The sugar sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts and he drew his eyes back up to hers.

He nodded, taking a shallow breath before he began

“We had plans, you and I, we were going to go New York, become a journalistic duo, move in together, be a family.” He glanced up, his eyes catching the watery ones of Betty’s

“You don’t have to remind me Jughead, I know exactly what our plans were.” Her voice was small and she cursed herself for letting him get to her.

“Just listen, please. We had these plans and they were everything I could have wanted, hell you could have told me you wanted to join a cult in Utah and I would have gone along, because you would have been there. All I wanted was you.” He cleared his throat, willing the emotion to stay back until after he was done.

“But you left me. I was all you wanted and you left me.” There was a bitterness to her voice now and Jughead shook his head

“I didn’t want to leave, I did everything I could but it was too late. He found out, he found out about our plans, about us. and he made me go.i never would have left you and then.. you were pregnant.. you were all alone and I was gone..” he mumbled the last part.. the guilt was pushing down on his chest and he found it hard to breathe, his teeth ground into themselves and his knuckles turned white when suddenly he felt a warm hand cover his own.

“Who made you leave? Who found out?” Betty’s soft voice tore him from his internal fight and he finally caught her eyes

“Your dad Betty. Hal found out.”

Betty ripped her hand from his, putting it to her own heart
“My dad? What.. what do you mean?”

Jughead reached for her again, before dropping in on the table and continuing

“He found out that we were leaving together, he threatened my fathers job, he threatened to frame me for robbery, he was going to get me locked up, but still I didn’t care, I was going to fight it but then.. he told he would send you away, send you to the place they sent Polly, I didn’t know what he meant, I didn’t know what he was talking about but now I do.. he must have found out you were pregnant, he was going to send you to the sisters.. even though I didn’t know, I believed him, I thought if I left it would be better for everyone. I left the night he came to talk to me and I didn’t look back, god I wanted too, but if I looked back… I would have come running right back to you.”

Tears were streaming down both of their faces now and Betty gasped slightly, taking a shuddery breath and whispering

“You could have come to me, we could have fought this together, you know I would have been by your side. I would never leave you, no matter what. I know you think you were doing what was best for me but I was alone. I had no one. Until Hunter, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and.. I feel bad for you… I feel bad that you missed him growing up, you would have been a great father.” She looked away, her arms coming to protect herself as she hid inside herself

“I’m here now. I know it’s not the same and I know it’s nowhere near enough but I’m here.” Jughead begged desperately, tears falling in heavy drops onto the metal diner table “I can be his father, I can be there for him, I can be there for you. Betty… I love you, I never stopped and I never will.” He gripped her hands, pulling her eyes towards his.

Feeling her resolve weakening she whimpered

“I meant what I said about us not needing you.” She said lamely

Jughead nodded
“I know that, but.. I need you. I need you and I need my son. Please Betty.. let me be here.”

Looking deep into the stormy blue eyes she had grown so familiar with throughout her childhood, she opened her mouth to speak.

Archie, Veronica and Kevin arrived at their booth at that exact moment, and the bubble they had been in popped, Betty pulling her hands free as Kevin slid in beside her.

Jughead was still staring intently at her, waiting an answer. Giving him a quick glance she let him know, this wasn’t over.

It would never be over.

Based on this post.

Dean lies awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in this dingy motel room and crawling out of his skin.

Sometimes, especially nights like tonight, he can literally feel his blood pumping, like a monster in his veins trying to get out. It’s too hot, the street outside is too quiet, the sheets are too scratchy, and all he can do is think.

He thinks about the mess they’re in this time, about how they got here, about how many times he failed. He thinks about the people they couldn’t save, the people who they dragged into messes they didn’t ask for. He thinks about what Sam has been through, and how mad John would be if he knew how much Dean had fucked this up.

His breathing gets a little ragged as his chest tightens. It feels like he’s choking, suffocating, and it’s exactly what he deserves.

“Dean?”

The deep voice is calm and a little sleepy as it breaks through the haze around Dean. It’s a sound Dean knows better than anything, one that could get through to him if he was dead.

Instantly, he can breathe again.

“Dean, come here.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, just slides out of his bed and stumbles into Sam’s, slamming into Sam’s chest with a thud. Strong arms encircle him and he clings to them, presses his nose and mouth against Sam’s neck and drinks him in.

Sam’s snoring again in seconds, and it’s the sound that keeps Dean alive until the sun comes up again.

It’s a common theory that you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. But Dean knows that’s bullshit. He doesn’t think he will ever truly love himself.

But he loves Sam enough that it spills over. Enough that he forgets what hating himself feels like.

Protectors

Warning: FLUFF, sexual assault, that’s it i think.

Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Sister!Reader Winchester, Castiel

Summary/Request: Hi, i love your work so much! Could you do an imagine where the reader gets attacked by a drunk guy from a bar and her brothers and Cas come to the rescue. FLUFF, lots of FLUFF please. Thank you, keep writing!

Word Count: 1,209

Y/N: your name

Y/N/N: your nickname


After week of researching, kicking, ass, and many bruises finally the hunt was done. You had to say you were kind of proud of yourself, you fought off nearly an entire pack of werewolves almost without a scratch. So with a hunt all done of course you and your brothers went to a old bar to celebrate. It was all going great, until it didn’t.

You and your brothers walked into the dingy bar feeling accomplished and ready for a few glasses of cold beer. Dean walked in front as always inspecting the place for hot women while you and Sam walked behind looking for an empty table to sit. Finally you found an empty booth at the end of the place and sat down, Dean walked over to the bar to order a few beers and some food leaving you and Sam alone.

“Hey, good job back there. You really did kick their asses.” Complemented Sam as he fist bumped you and smiled.

“What can I say Sammy, I learned from the best.” You smirked back at him.

“Aww thanks Y/N/N”

“I meant Dean” You said back jokingly, smirking at him mischievously.

“You little-“

“Beer!” You yelled raising your arms as if you were a child as Dean approached the table with the drinks.

You all grabbed your drinks and began to talk, talk about the hunt, the future hunts, and everything in between until your glasses of beer were out leaving you all wanting more. Suddenly Dean’s phone began to sound so he answered while you and Sam looked at him curiously.

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Spare Change

There’s a step down from
One dingy carpet to another,
Dead grass or sea side sand
In color. The pool was
Blood or cherry and it
Was smooth and deep
And there, filled with
Green felt, soft on the
Tips of my fingers as
I counted copper pennies
One to one hundred.
She was there, too,
White as a ghost or
A cloud, silent as her
Ears. Not friendly but
Not mean, she made
Skittish and flighty
Company, sleeping
Like a trap ready
To spring. In my
Mind I call to her
But her name is as
Flighty as her being
And my voice wouldn’t
Reach her anyway.

I Do (want to love you)

“God, Jimin.” You stop and giggle at him, light disbelief in his words. “You’re crazy.”

He chuckles, the sound of your laughter a perfect symphony to his ears. “If falling for you is crazy, then I’m going out of my mind.”

Synopsis: There is only one word to describe your life, and it is simple; there are a million words to define Park Jimin’s sphere and the few are extravagant, prodigal — affluent, especially. Though despite the stark differences between your plain world and Jimin’s riches, you both find a common ground within the universe of love.

[cr.]

Pairing: Jimin x Reader // soft sugar daddy au

Genre: light angst, fluff, lots of fluff ^^ + a bit suggestive

Word Count: 24.2k

Includes: alcohol mentions

A/N: i haven’t written full on fluff for a while, so here it is :D it feels great to be back into the loop. here u go @pjxmin!! :’)
10/10 would recommend the song this fic is inspired from!! here it is :)

namjoon’s also going to have his own branch from this story in another fic, haha. it’ll go into detail w him and the showgirl :D


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Eerie scenes for an urban Soulslike game
  • a dark street illuminated by nothing but the orange glow of old, flickering streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement after a storm
  • an abandoned subway station, with dingy white tiles and motes of dust floating in florescent light. in one direction, the tunnel is blocked off by a cave-in. in another direction you see naught but darkness, save for the rare and brief glimpse of a silhouette darker than the inky blackness surrounding it
  • an abandoned steel mill, its stacks rising into the clear, blue sky like the dark, iron pipes of a gargantuan church organ
  • the same steel mill at night, its electric lights dead, leaving only the faint glow of unattended furnaces to cast long, dancing shadows on the walls
  • A construction site with dormant machinery that looks like it was abandoned in a hurry, the engines having gone dormant not by the will of any human, but by the passage of time. even the air itself seems unnaturally still.
  • distorted terrain causing massive skyscrapers to lean and buckle, leaving few buildings untouched by their neighboring structures
  • a lakefront sidewalk in the early morning, shrouded in fog. every so often you can swear you can hear the cry of an infant, but that would be impossible, for the cries seem to come from the waters
  • a great and sprawling airport, many of the kiosks and restaurants still lit and open, as though they are still being attended to. through the windows, you can see that many of the planes are still there, some even positioned halfway down the runway, never having taken off as intended.
  • A large park, illuminated by naught but the light of the moon. you feel as though the bronze, grotesque fountain sculptures are watching you.
  • A zoo on a cloudy day, vacant of both its residents and its visitors, save for whatever is making that gut-wrenching noise in the herpetarium
  • an elevator that takes you up to the top of a skyscraper, only to open out on the ground floor of a different building

To be honest I felt pretty sorry for pocket!Laito being left in the cage with pocket!Ayato like that in my last post. So, here is some hamster love for my favorite Sakamaki. (At this rate I’m likely to do all of them tbh… I’m so in love with this au. “oTL)

Long, Lean, and Lethal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,106

Summary: The Reader finally takes things into her own hands when it comes to her feelings for Dean. 

Warnings: Consensual voyeurism, mutual masturbation, Reader being sneaky, Dean being cheeky.

A/N: This little drabble stemmed from a conversation with @salvachester about Dean and his physique. And well, it ended up naughty, I’m not sorry. So, here ya go. 

Originally posted by dancewithmejensen

He’s all muscle and sinew, coiled strength and energy, long, lean limbs and broad shoulders taking up more space than should be legal. Every movement is calculated, every action purposeful. Watching him work is like watching a choreographed dance; trained hands loading a gun, handling knives, fighting monsters, driving his car. It’s nothing if not sheer beauty.

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4

  Living on Anaesthetic. No one seems get it.

…and kneeling on the floor of a dingy hotel room in Baltimore, MD, staring at the wrecked remains of what Neil used to be, Andrew knew there was no going back from this,

he was lost, he was lost, he was found

                        Happy Birthday Syeda!! @wasninski (4.30)

Unpopular Critical Opinion #1

I’m not too crazy about a lot of redesigns.

I think it’s a great think that young artists are putting there work out there and I do see a lot of potential. Instead of just putting people down for their art, I want to give some pointers. Of course, a major part of improving art is to seek constructive criticism, so here’s my two cents:

A lot of redesigns I’ve seen tend to be overly detailed. If you want to make a standalone art piece, that’s great! But if you’re working with characters who are going to be drawn over and over again, it’s best to keep it simple. Yeah, a lot of the designs in SU are unimaginative or wanky lookin’, but the minimalism works in their favor… for the most part. The simpler designs are more memorable and allow more time to focus on quality animation without having to worry about too much detail, something the show does not take advantage of, unfortunately.

It’s pretty easy to create an appealing design without using too much elements. First, you want to identify that shapes and gestures that are associated with a particular character. For example, Amethyst is round and curvy.

(Sorry for the poor quality, I just threw this together in a couple minutes to make a point)

Anyways, here I used curvy lines and circles to construct her basic silhouette. For this design, I tried to emulate a slightly bottom-heavy form by giving her a pear-shaped body, sloping shoulders, and hair that moves downwards to bulge at the bottom. Once you have a good idea once your basic form will consist of, then you can build upon the design by adding clothes or accessories that follow the rules you establish. I my case, it’s circles, curves, and a bottom heavy motion. The sleeves slope off of her shoulders as the bottom curves around the hips.

Next up is color:

I do agree that Lapis is too neon for my tastes, but some redesigns and recolors overcompensate by making her colors too dull and drab. This is especially noticeable when the pyrite is incorporated. It’s presented as a dingy yellow when the mineral is actually a really shiny gold.

Seeing this is is a cartoon and not a first-person shooter, the colors should be… colorful… yet distributed well. You don’t want to avoid all of the combinations of hues, shades, tints, and tones. You also don’t want to look like an amateur who picked all of your colors from mspaint.

(I’m not going to put effort into a demonstration, so I apologize)

To get my color scheme, I referenced some of the various minerals that compose lapis lazuli: deep blue lazurite, gold pyrite, and white calcite. I try to keep my color scheme limited but varied. I establish a dominant color (blue), and slightly change the saturation and tone of it. That way, I could add variety and differentiation to my character’s color scheme while keeping a low contrast. You see this with Lapis’s hair and skin (including her dress in the second example).

Since the gold and white are bright colors, they can create more contrast against the blue. I utilize them to create points of interest where the viewer’s eyes will be attracted to. On the first example, the dark blue diamond pops out from the contrasting white dress. I also use tiny gold details on the face since it contrasts with the blue skin. On the second example, I use the gold to create visual interest on the otherwise low-contrast dress. The white calcite on this example serves the same purpose as the gold pyrite in the first. 

Also, take note of the simplicity, The silhouette mostly relies on the tear-drop shapes on the form. The bright, eye-catching colors and details are used to a minimume and serve to add points of interest.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say. I’m not an expert, just sharing what I know about basic design. This was meant to be an unpopular opinion but turned into the guide no one asked for. My next posts are gonna be more controversial, but I’ll try my best to elaborate instead of pop the ye ole snarky post to attract angry anons.

                                             ‘’GREASE’’ 

Frenchie: The dreamer the student the almost dropout

Oh We're in Love Aren't We?

 Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Requested by anon:  “Is that my shirt” for either Lin or Daveed where you guys are best friends and it gets awkward and cute. Please and thank you

Summary: Lin and the reader were best friends all through their teenage years and college days. Like so, life pulls them in separate directions for a few years, only to have them reunite for a special occasion.

Words: 2,321.. (I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SO MUCH SHORTER but it’s Lin so)

Warnings: none, except fluff

A/N PLEASE READ SO THE STORY MAKES SENSE: The story goes back and forth between the present & past. The present is in italics. LET ME KNOW IF IT GETS CONFUSING. Roughly based off of Ed’s ‘Hearts Don’t Break Around Here’..enjoy :)

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I love the idea of grantaire silently picking up his friends habits? Grantaire looks up to the stars while on smoke breaks, matching the Big Dipper and then Orion in the sky, whispering Sylvia Plath’s “I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to god, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn’t speak,” the very lines combeferre utters after a shitty protest. He grows onions on the windowsill, clipped from musichetta’s little city garden that grows wild and free in a small dingy flower box in her apartment. He takes to singing sea shanties when showering, right after bahorel, who father was a fisherman. Grantaire does slow waltzes in his small apartment kitchen with an invisible partner, just the way eponine does when it’s morning and she just got paid and is making gavroche pancakes. He learns to love the parts of him that are his friends, and maybe a bit of himself too

“Why aren’t you married to me yet?” He asked one time, complete with laughing blue eyes and a cheeky smile.

I don’t quite remember what it was that I was doing. I probably said something amusing, or stupid or both.

But I smiled and looked at him and dared, “ask me.”

And in that moment, in the quiet of a normal mid afternoon, with the jostling background noise of the city streets below, in that dingy studio apartment I used to scrape by to afford - we really did think we’d end up together. We were no one, a pair of 20-somethings with idealistic dreams and a snobbish self-entitled depth, we shared nothing but youth, innocence, lust over cheap wine and an unhealthy obsession over each other’s laughs. We were in love. The kind you only get once in your life, when the world has only tainted you with its promises of happy endings and first loves.

Looking back now, in a way he did ask me. Not so much in words but in feelings. Those blue eyes, that cheeky smirk, the way he swept over me from across the room. He didn’t say the words but I felt them. And to be quite honest, back then, I would have said yes. Undoubtedly, unabashedly, wantonly yes.

But life happens, as you know. He broke my heart before he even had the chance to ask.

Make Tea, Not War.
If it weren’t for the sturdy construction of a late 2008 MacBook—yes, white (well, more like off-dingy-white) shell and all—and the soft, fluffy rug—a housewarming gift from your mother–that covered your hardwood floors, the computer would have been shattered when you vaulted from the couch after the article—sent from a friend that was in desperate need of a lesson in softening the blow–loaded on the screen.

“Fuck!” you cursed, haphazardly picking your laptop up by the corner and tossing it on the sofa. “Shit, fuck!” Snatching your not-yet-empty wine glass from its perch, you stomped into your flat’s little kitchenette and uncorked the bottle of red while downing what remained in your glass. You poured and downed another.

“Really?!” you screamed at the pocket pig calendar hanging opposite you, a bit of spittle and wine flying from your mouth.

Poor Darius; he and his little cowboy hat didn’t deserve any of this.

You tried to calm yourself, really you did, but after a few huffing breaths that were anything but calming, you gave up and grabbed the bottle of wine before heading back to the couch. Your phone was at your ear, number selected and dialed, before the blankets and pillows had even settled from the force of your entire body weight slamming dramatically into them.

“Honey, are you alright?” Despite the hint of worry in her tone, your mum’s voice managed to calm you a bit; suddenly air wasn’t being forced in and out of your lungs as a more natural rhythm took hold.

“No,” you answered tartly before taking another swig of wine. It was silent as you both waited for the other to speak.

“Well are you going to tell me or can I get back to bed?” Mum was always impatient when it came close to bedtime; she was a solid eight-hour sleeper—nothing more and nothing less—and she coordinated her bedtime and wakeup time perfectly so she always got the right amount of sleep.

“He’s…engaged,” you said bitterly, lips puckering around the words, a sour taste left in your mouth at the admission; it didn’t feel right coming off your tongue. And it wasn’t jealousy—or at least you didn’t want to admit it was—because you weren’t entirely sure that if He were replaced with We you would be left with the same sour feeling.

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