do i like this or hate this you will never know

Loki’s Future

some random thoughts/meta after watching Ragnarok (a good ass film™️)

- After watching Ragnarok, I was struck by how similar in appearance Loki is to Hela. Same slim face and build, same pale skin, and even the same black hair. They both prefer blades to fight with and magic to communicate with. Hell, their wardrobe color schemes even match. This raised some questions for me when I was watching the film; why this deliberate choice, and how much does Loki’s appearance have an effect on how Odin treats him, in this film and others? Thor is Hela’s sister, yet we’ve seen that Odin treats Thor very, very differently to Hela and later Loki. Does Loki with his black hair and magic just remind Odin too much of his own shitty decisions? It would explain a lot about why he acts like such a dick to Loki, even when Loki was a child and not killing anyone (as far as we know haha, that kid coulda done anything)

- But there’s gotta be more to it than that. The similarities in appearance may well be Taika’s nod to the original Norse myths, but it occurred to me that it’s way too obvious a similarity, and could be pointing to something a little more complex. In the original myths, Hela is actually Loki’s daughter. Coincidence? I think not! Add this to the fact that in the mythology Loki also has a son, a gigantic wolf called Fenrir, who we also see in Ragnarok, I think there’s plenty of evidence pointing to the fact that Loki has some greater importance and connection to Asgard, running deeper than him simply being a Jotun war prize. For me it’s just too much of a coincidence that Hela and Loki are a) strongly connected in the source material b) have strongly similar appearances, fighting styles and love for chaos (to a certain extent, their characters are similar) and c) are both ‘children’ of Odin. On one of Loki’s bad days, you could call them twins. Why though? It’s been reeeeally bugging me, but I just can’t work out a direct connection, or reason as to why Hela’s character had to be built to resemble Loki.

- One answer to this is a theory I read that Loki is in fact Hela’s son. (Yeah, I know, that sounds deranged when you think about it.) The timelines align such that Hela could very easily have invaded Jotunheim with Odin before Loki’s birth. There she could have had, through some means or other, a child with Laufey, and then later abandoned it due to ‘weakness’. So… a hybrid. Loki even has black hair when he’s in his Jotun form, and that’s really fucking unusual - no other frost giant is even similar - he LOOKS like a hybrid of Hela and Laufey. Although there’s a few things off about this theory, and the MCU will probably never confirm or go into enough detail about it, AND it also makes Loki Thor’s nephew (!!!wtf!) AND Odin would have also have to have known about it the whole time (albeit explaining his behaviour), it does give reason and a cause to the weird connection and similarities between the two.

- Loki and the Tesseract. Ooooooooohhh my god. So we basically KNOW that he has it, as although we don’t see him take it in Ragnarok, it’s strongly implied, and he also is literally holding it in the leaked trailer for Infinity War. (I appreciate that some ppl don’t want to watch the leaked trailer, but it confirms he has it) Why is this important? The Tesseract is an Infinity Stone. It has power Loki knows how to use, and he’s one of the few that do. What’s Infinity War about? Infinity Stones, and Thanos. The same Thanos who’s on the hunt for Loki AND the Tesseract. I honestly don’t think Loki’s taken it for some world domination shit this time round, I think he’s taken it for power and leverage. He’s acting intelligently and planning far ahead. This is given extra gravity when you remember that Loki is the only one in the Infinity War lineup who has met and knows Thanos, and that honestly did not go well for Loki at all.

- (On a side note, I just want to talk about Loki and Thanos; it’s been theorised/discussed for ages that Thanos met Loki in the void after his fall from Asgard in Thor 1, and gave him a deal: the mission of capturing Earth, finding the Tesseract, and the tools to do so. Now, Loki’s not really one to make deals unless he can subvert them, and so the whole way through Avengers his motives for attack to me seemed uncharacteristically illogical, although I can understand his primal emotional reasons for wanting to rule. But we also saw him looking very, very ill at the beginning of that film and in the Thor 1 credits scene, and being in obvious pain - he looked like a damn meth addict. Some fans have also noted that his eyes look blue during some scenes in Avengers, like he’s being mind controlled. I completely agree with this theory: that Thanos, recognising Loki’s power, tortured him, (with heat and fire, because how else do you torture a Jotun? It explains his appearance and injuries) and mind controlled him to enact the events of Avengers. And everything that happens thereafter in the MCU makes soooo much more sense when you think about it from the torture perspective. It explains a lot about the ‘big picture’ behind all of Loki’s decisions since. He has angered the most powerful man in the universe twice: failing in giving Thanos the Tesseract, AND remaining alive.

- Which brings me back to my point - Loki is the only one who has any possible comprehension of what’s coming, so taking the Tesseract easily interprets as him acting impulsively for reasons of his own safety, and possibly the safety of those around him (he takes it after his ‘redemption’ arc). I think he still has some kind of connection or knowledge of Thanos’ presence, maybe from torture, and he can sense when shit is about to go down - and we see the beginning of it going down at the end of Ragnarok. He’s also keeping his possession of it a secret, and for obvious reasons. Knowing he’d just taken the same item that he screwed everything up for last time would completely ruin his new trust-bond ‘redemption’ arc with Thor (I kinda hate using the word redemption tho - it’s obvious from Dark World that that’s not what Loki wants or really cares about) so, he’s going to use it in some kind of bamboozle, dodgy deal, Loki-esque interaction in the future .

- I really really reeaallllyy hope they don’t just turn Loki ‘back’ into a villain in IW. It would be an insult his character and the character work Taika’s done in Ragnarok. At this point it’s weak, cheap and easy character development and a trope that’s extremely overplayed. However, HOWEVER. It would equally break my heart to see him fall completely into the other side - the role of martyrdom, righteousness and self-sacrifice in IW. We already have dozens of characters who do that, and what makes Loki more loved than all of them is that he can do both - when and how he acts is fascinating to watch. He’s every inch a chaotic neutral, and I hope so much that Marvel keeps it like that. He survives because he has no morals, likes to play both sides and he’s smart about it. It makes him compelling, godamnit.

- With Tom’s movie contract and the amount of times they’ve ‘killed’ him off already, it’s looking likely he’ll survive Infinity War. (Not looking so good for Thor though 😭IW is seriously gonna kill me too)

- Some more mythology stuff… Although in the MCU Loki’s plot usefulness is as more of a ‘bad guy’ and not he’s not a central enough character to justify such an in depth plotline, there are plenty more things the myths can give him. For example, his own honest relationships, outside of Asgard’s influence. Loki has most likely experienced a much wider range of people, creatures and places in the universe than average. He’s got lots of little secrets tucked away. For example, in mythology he has another son, called Jormungand, a giant serpent. Not likely J will ever make it to the screen though, sadly. I think that the serpent shapeshifting story in Ragnarok was perhaps a nod to that. So was Odin’s 6-legged horse Sleipnir, another of Loki’s sons.

Secondly, and of greater interest to me: in the myths, Loki has a wife called Sigyn, the goddess of intelligence. (I love her already…) with whom he has these strange animalistic (likely shapeshifting) children. Now, I know IW is really too late along his storyline to be introducing someone like Sigyn, let alone as a love interest, but god damn would it be awesome if they did. Maybe it’s just me, but I think it would be truly satisfying and also extremely entertaining to see Loki get himself a girl. Superhero movies are so often plagued by the oppressive American binary of good and evil, wherein the good guy always gets the girl, and the villain is always miserable. Seeing Loki, (a character who we know consciously does bad things and fits very well the evil stereotype, but does good things as well, and plays both sides entirely to his own benefit) get the typical stamp of a good guy would make for a more interesting, rule-breaking plot. Please, MCU, don’t let Loki fall into this binary! Let him be both! It’s what made him so extremely damn popular! that and the fact that he’s smart and funny and Tom is extremely fucking hot lol

- I also really wanna see a bit more of his magical abilities - in his villain role so far we’ve been shown he’s smarter than half the MCU, extremely skilled in in magic and combat with knives, he can teleport, he can create illusions, he can fuck with people’s heads and more. His Valkyrie knife standoff scene was interesting in Ragnarok - I’m 100% sure he deliberately lost to Valkyrie to gain access to her memories- but Thor mentioned something way more interesting: Loki is a shapeshifter. And a really good one; he’s basically in a constant shift from Jotun to Asgardian. But to animals? That’s really fucking cool, and the snake story shows how easily he can hide in plain sight. (Y’all can get the cat!Loki y’all have always wanted.) Idk I just really wanna see more of what he can do. I think further abilities/aspects of his fighting style and personality will be revealed in future though, because having the Tesseract and knowing Thanos makes him into a major plot point for IW.

- lastly can I just say I’m really digging the 80s/rock soundtrack aesthetic Marvel is pushing for

- and the c i n e m a t o g r a p h y!! Got damn.

- just protect him please for the love of all that is holy.

- That is all. Thanks for reading my ramblings. Xxxx.

BTS replaced you. - pt.END

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.END]


Originally posted by mimibtsghost

“You guys have no idea how hurt she is that you basically threw her to the curb and left her like that.” I looked at all seven of the men who stood before me after Y/N had ran to her room and closed the door behind her.

“Why are you interfering? What did you say to her to get her to hate us like this?” Jungkook stood before me, squaring up as if he was ready to throw a punch. But I took a step back.

Keep reading

thank you — p.p.

summary → there has never been a moment where peter’s words haven’t failed him whilst basking in your presence, so why should they form coherent sentences now?

word count → 3.5k

author’s note → did you guys forget that i write because honestly me 2

  Be it totally and completely out of the blue, you awaken one bright, blazing Tuesday morning in early November, brisk chill whipping through the air, and decide that later that night, when you see him somewhere that isn’t so public and academic like, you’re going to kiss Peter Benjamin Parker.  

  You’re not quite sure what brings it on, perhaps you should just leave it to the raging teenage hormones that the doctors and psychologists and guidance counselors blame everything on, but another part of you understands that this longing, yearning, to let yourself fall in love with your best friend is something far from foreign or new. This loving feels familiar to you, like coming back home after vacations far away and far too long, and it’s warmth in the way that burrowing under your blankets when the chill settles into your bones is. Boys like Peter demand to be adored, and they demand to be kissed as if never before. You’d be damned if you let such prime opportunities escape your grasp, or rather, your lips. 

  The hours in school glide by, which was, admittedly, utterly surprising. Typically, when you’re anticipating something later in the day, any hours before the event that is to transpire drag on as if you’re not impatient, as if you can wait all day without a complaint. But suddenly it’s last period, then two-thirty rolls around and you’re bounding over to your locker where your best friend awaits you, rocking slightly on the heels of his feet the way he has a tendency to do when he’s overexcited. This motion is arguably the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. Then again, anything Peter does, the simplest actions that bear no real relevancy, is something that you mark down in your head as the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

   Peter glances around the halls, unable to see you through the mounds of students rushing hurriedly past him in order to relieve themselves of academia for the day as soon as possible. He pulls down the cuff of his sweater over his hands, then rethinks this and pushes them back up to his elbows. Blue looks nice on him. There are just these little things you tend to notice about him, silly things that only a person in love would pick up, and these tiny details, like the way the light catches in his eyes and the smiles he saves for certain people, make your heart bright and happy and whisper lovingly to him in a voice he can’t hear. The crowd disperses considerably enough, and you manage to fight your way through the remaining throng of people loitering in the hallway for no real reason- beyond frustrating, you think, but then Peter catches your eye and his already happy demeanor increases tenfold. With a beam that practically stretches out and reaches into your heart, seizing it carefully and determinedly, Peter ambles toward you, trying to appear more relaxed than he felt, and pushes himself into your personal space, as usual, by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. 

    “You’re in a good mood,” you note, because at this point in your relationship there’s no need for formal greetings, as he parades you out of the building after letting go of you long enough to allow you to gear up for the cold sweeping through the borough outside the walls of Midtown. He casts a glance your way, sideways but still joyous, then shrugs, nonchalant. “You’re just so happy to see me, aren’t you, Pete?” 

   You’re half joking and not expecting much until Peter gives you a little look, head tilted to the side and his eyebrows furrowed slightly like he can’t believe the question is something you don’t know the answer to. He gives your shoulder a squeeze. “You should know the answer to that by now!” He exclaims, mock disappointment in the head shake he gives you. “The answer is yes. We see each other for, like, two seconds at a lunch all day and that’s it. I’m deprived. I miss you.” 

  “We’re together right now,” you laugh, nudging into his side. 

   “Not enough. I see Ned twenty-four-seven, I need both of my best friends with me all day every day if I’m gonna survive the next two and a half years of high school.” Your heart sort of twitches again, your palms feel warm. He has that influence over you. Love is such a strange thing sometimes, impossible to decipher or make sense of, and then other times it feels like the simplest emotion in the world, easy and steady and everything. You’ll never know what to make of it. “I just miss you, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he jokes, rubbing your shoulder for a second before letting his hand dangle across the edge of your shoulder. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, the way you have millions of times before in the same seemingly intimate way, pretending as if you don’t know the sweet grin that the gesture elicits from him, staring adoringly at the profile of your face like he couldn’t possibly get enough of the view. 

   “Aw,” you coo, pinching his cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding his. Peter flinches away, his eyes squeezing shut and his cheeks pink. “I missed you, too, Pete. So, where are we off to today? Can we go traipse around SoHo? We haven’t been in ages and oh! Look, I see the A train, it’s on every corner, let’s go.” Before he realizes it, he’s being dragged down toward the steps of the subway, his complaints about constantly getting lost there falling upon deaf ears. 

   Much more than a mere few hours later, Peter is shaking his head as you laugh hysterically down the block leading to your apartment building. He has a feigned look of annoyance on his face as you talk, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Peter, we didn’t get lost that bad this time. Seriously, we made it to Union Square, which was right by the R train, then we took it to the mall and hopped on the M which we took to the F, ridiculously simple!” You exclaim, taking a sip from your bottle of water. “You’re acting as if we, like, walked around in a  circle for an hour.” 

   “Because that’s exactly what we did!” He replies, playfully punching you in the arm, but with a carefully light touch. Peter is, and has always been ever since it became a pressing issue, terribly aware of his enhanced strength and senses. He’s so nervous about accidentally hurting you when his intentions were to be playful that he does everything with extra caution now, barely letting himself touch you most of the time or even give a gentle squeeze of your hand. “We did walk in a a circle for an hour! And your phone died while you were trying to use Google Maps, it was pouring rain, you got so cold I had to give you my jacket which made me cold-”

  You interrupt him, “No one said you had to give me your jacket!” 

  He continues on his rant, pretending as if you haven’t spoken even though the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips beg to differ- “we couldn’t figure out where we were which is stupid since we’re supposed to be New Yorkers, then finally I said to just keep walking straight, which we did until we found Union Square due to pure dumb luck.” Peter watches you throw your head back and laugh, high in sound and utterly happy, and he shoves his hands deep in his pockets, a stupidly thrilled grin on his face, too. He hated that he couldn’t stop grinning; it was ridiculous and it hurt his cheeks and made his eyes squint so hard they ached once he was finally able to let his mouth rest. Oh, how his heart couldn’t stop hammering! He was so nervous he could hardly think straight. Peter Parker was drowning, suffocating, choking on these emotions that had been so far buried deep, deep within the recesses of his heart that he hardly knew what to do with them now that they were drifting to the surface like leaves on a pond. 

     You can feel his eyes on you, the soft and sweet, carefully watching gaze of Peter, and so you take the moment for your own. You’re standing in front of the door to the apartment building when you whip around toward him, and he goes in for the hug like he knows what you’re planning to do. Instead, you lean up, take his face in your hands and you note how cold his cheeks are as you avoid his surprised gaze. Then, you’re kissing him. You are kissing Peter Parker in the way you’ve never kissed anyone before; it’s hesitant, over too fast like it never even happened, but you kissed him and he knows you’ve just kissed him, but the thoughts flipping through his brain and the way his stomach is clenching doesn’t allow him to form coherent sentences that you can hear and comprehend. 

   Instead of kissing you again, instead of lifting you up in his arms and spinning you around the street and singing like a madman because the person of his dreams seems to want him right back, he stutters for five seconds. The only words that he can manage to say are, “Thank you,” before he turns back around and quite literally sprints down the block to his own apartment. 

   When he gets home he collapses on his bed, grunting a hello to May before he shoves his pillow over his face and screams into it, unabashed screaming that he drags out for two minutes. He pulls back, red cheeked and panting. He immediately rolls over to call Ned, begging him to come over immediately and no, Ned, he doesn’t care about the comic you’re in the middle of reading because this is an emergency damn it! 


   “You said thank you?” Ned says incredulously, thirty minutes later and trying not to burst into hysterics after what his best friend had just relayed to him. He can’t help himself, and as Peter hugs his pillow to his chest with a look similar to that of someone who is experiencing severe indigestion, Ned wheezes out a laugh held in for so long that it just goes on forever. Peter buries his face in the plush, comforting fabric, emitting a groan that continues for as long as Ned cackles. “Dude, you’re a mess. I can’t believe you said thank you. Who says thank you after being kissed? For the first time? By someone you’ve been dying to kiss for the past, like, three years?” Ned is practically crying by the time Peter  launches his pillow at his so called best friend, resting his fists against his cheeks and letting a pout befall his lips. 

   “Ned,” Peter whines, brown eyes pleading. “I need help. I said thank you! I hate myself, I shouldn’t be allowed to be kissed ever again. I’m… I’m so stupid. I said thank you! To Y/N! Y/N! Of all people! Thank you! Thank you.” He repeats the phrase with a sad, small shake of his head and lies back down on his bed. Ned stretches out across the top bunk, Peter can hear the old bed creak, and they both let out a sigh. “What should I do, man? Do you think Y/N hates me?” 

   Ned is quiet for a moment. “Right now? Y/N definitely hates you right now. I’m not even saying that to be mean, I’m saying that as your best friend. You said thank you.”  

  “I know,” he says, miserable and pathetic and contemplating what sort of injuries he might hypothetically sustain if he attempted a backflip off the edge of the Empire State Building. 


   “He said thank you?” Michelle Jones doesn’t even bother to wait, to even offer a dash of fake but well meant sympathy, before she erupts into hysterics, laughing so terribly hard that she nearly rolls off your twin bed. You stare at her, stone faced, unamused, as she continues her awful wheezing laughter that she has no intention of halting any time soon. “Oh my god, oh my god, I have to-” MJ abruptly stands up, stifling her laughter behind her hand as she leaves your bedroom, then closes the door behind her and starts laughing again. It’s loud, practically deafening, mostly because the laughter feels so mocking and smothering in lieu of recent events that had occurred less than an hour ago. You sigh, hugging your pillow even tighter to your chest as you wait for your so called best friend to return from her stint in the hallway. 

   “Oh, are you done now? Thanks,” you snap, shifting over on the bed to make room for her to clamor back on. “I can’t believe you. I’m having a crisis and you leave to go laugh at me in the hallway. What sort of friend are you, MJ?” 

   She shrugs, the ghost of a hilariously mocking grin still playing at her mouth. “The friend who tells it like it is.” 

   You huff, lying down on the bed and staring up at the glow in the dark stars you had stuck up there when you were fourteen, the July before you started high school. You put them up with Peter, and it was late and hot and your palms were sticky with sweat that sometimes wonder was due to the heat of the summer or the boy sitting next to you in your room, on your tiny bed, rambling on about the rings that Jupiter had, because yes Jupiter has rings, and the reasons as to why stars emit light. Peter was always there, never wavering in his loyalties, your most beloved friend, the boy who promised over and over again that he’d be there for you no matter what. He was Peter, and you loved Peter, and if Peter didn’t love you back that would be just fine- you just wanted to know sooner rather than later. “What should I do? Is he, like, repulsed by me? Why would you let me kiss him, Michelle?” 

   “Uh, excuse me, I didn’t even know you were planning on planting a big one on Peter Parker, so any blame cast on me is henceforth cancelled. Got that? Good,” Michelle brushes her hair out of her eyes, that intense look appearing on her already intense face. “First of all, that loser is physically incapable of being repulsed by you. I’m just telling you that right now before you go off on a stupid tangent about whether or not he hates you. That’s final. Next, he’s never been kissed before! He was definitely overwhelmed, probably freaking out inside, didn’t know what to do, and that was the first thing that popped into his head and he ran with it and then he ran away. Understandable. Finally, boys are just stupid. All of them. They’re all complete morons, and-” 

   “Okay, Michelle, the idiotic tendencies of people who identify as a male is a riveting debate that we enjoy quite frequently, but tonight I think I’m done talking boys. I’m going to just… let things happen as they should? If Peter likes me, he’ll tell me, and that’ll be that. I just won’t bring up the kiss. I’ll pretend like it didn’t happen.” With a satisfied nod, MJ pats your head, then, for a split second, snorts under her breath again. 

  She holds her hands up defensively, exclaiming, “He still said thank you! He’s never living this shit down!”


    The next day at school, Peter is prepared and ready for the conversation he anticipates is going to happen. He is ready to be understanding if you yell at him for being a complete and utter ass after you kissed him, he’s ready to spill his bottled up feelings all over the linoleum floor if that’s what it takes for you to believe that the kiss was the best thing he’s ever experienced, ever would experience, and he’s ready for the beginning of everything he’s ever dreamt of, but none of that comes. At least, not immediately, not in the way he expected. 

   The boy has always thought himself a patient person, but in the months that have passed he’s realized that under no circumstances is he okay with waiting. He’s impatient and annoyed at everyone and everything that comes his way that isn’t you, and then he’s annoyed at you for not appearing to him and acknowledging that you kissed him on the front steps of your apartment building with a fervor that could only be identified as the crashing, burning, raging, bursting power of pent up emotion. He knows he has hardly any classes with you, so there’s no conceivable way you could have an in depth discussion of your relationship status as of this very moment, but still. He’d appreciate a gesture of some kind. And then, after this thought pops into his head, he wonders if he should be the one to make the gesture. 

   Prompt with following his instincts, he sets off to find you before you can avoid him at lunch like he knows you will. He stands by your locker, leaning against the cool metal frame, waiting for you to make an appearance. He sees you first, and by now this is simply rote for him. You don’t have time to even attempt to duck out of his way; Peter is determined, stubborn, and he won’t lose out on his chance by allowing you to go on ignoring him. Even if you don’t want a relationship, a decision he’ll respect wholeheartedly, he flat out refuses to even entertain the idea of no longer having you as his best friend, as his other kind of love. He takes your hand, silent begging scrawled across the weakened, anxious smile he gives you. He leads you toward the front of the school, around a bend of empty lockers, and takes a step back. 

   Neither of you really look at each other until he says, unexpectedly, “You kissed me!” It’s almost accusatory, the way he says it, and, affronted, you look back up at him in alarm.  

   “And you said thank you!” You retort, eyes narrowed. “Who says that!” The entire reason you’ve been avoiding him was to avoid this discussion. It was making you feel feverish. Peter had always made you nervous, it was painfully obvious, but this was so much different than just incessant butterflies in your stomach. This was a post-kiss conversation, and you hardly knew what to say to him other than repeating the previous query of, “Seriously, who tells someone thank you after they’ve just kissed you!”

   The question is rhetorical, so he ignores it. That, and because he’s already embarrassed enough by his tactless reply. He waves his hands around aggressively. “I know! I know I did! I didn’t mean to! You scared me!” 

   “Wow, thanks.” 

   “I didn’t mean it like that! You’re not scary, you’re like a baby deer, a fawn, you’re so cute and non-intimidating, I didn’t mean that you were scary I meant that I’ve never been kissed and being kissed by the person you have a crush on is a scary thing especially when it comes out of nowhere so I’m sorry that I said thank you but I just didn’t- my brain doesn’t work sometimes, okay!” Peter runs his hands through his hair. One curl flips down, curling over his forehead in a stupidly cute way.

   “Peter, you literally drive me up the wall, sometimes.” You shake your head, give a sigh, take two steps forward so that you’re so much closer to him than you were before even though two steps shouldn’t feel like you’re closing the widest gap in history. “Should I not have kissed you?” 

   His pretty brown eyes go wide. “Did you not hear the part where I called you cute? And the part where I said I have a crush on you? Do you have selective hearing? Work with me here,” he pleads, taking holding of your shoulders and giving the gentlest shake he can manage. 

   “So, kissing is a yes, then?” You press, just to make sure, just to tease him a little because you can see the way he grows more and more flustered each time you act like you have no idea what he’s talking about. He closes his eyes. There’s a deep inhalation while you stand there waiting for him, and when he kisses you, you’re the one taken by surprise, hands frozen in midair as he lets his lips move from yours in this painfully slow way you’re almost sure he’s taunting you with. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to the punch. 

  “I swear, if you ruin this moment and say it-” 

  “Thank you, Peter.” 

  “I think we’re going to have to break up before we’re even together. You blew it, Y/N. Good work.” 

  “Aw, c’mon! It’ll be our thing.”

  “No.”

TAGS : @iusethistoreadfanfics @pbpz @skymoonandstardust @lunastarwatcher @warcriminalrogers @brittyblogs @tiny-friggin-human @heartfrost @gentlethunderstorm @fairydustparker @emmaaolsen @xwinterromanxff @idioticnerd24 @ravenclaws-say-caw @buckysmaingirl @pillow223 @quacksontommy @handsomeholland @tomarvelicious @fluffyavengers @wavy-ley @radicalstars @nedslaptop @nedandpeter @starparker @parkerroos @stephie-senpai @spideytattoo @peterplanet @fullwizardstrawberry @yoinkpeter @linnsweatpants @mossyfeet @sophia1644 @itsssmichelleee

Stozier; it’s like marmite. You love it or you hate it.

I love reddie and stenbrough but here’s why I fucking ADORE stozier, strap yourselves in

- they’re literally childhood best friends, they met when they were super young and are around each other 24/7

- they’re polar opposites but that’s what makes them perfect

- richie would literally kick anyone’s ass that tries to make fun of stan

- and honestly, stan would do the same

- Stan keeps richie in line

- richie gets stan to loosen up

- their fiery tempers cause a lot of sexual tension, frustration ensues

- Stan hates hugs and cuddling, but for some reason he lets richie do it?

- richie hates having people in his house because of his parents but his mother actually knows Stan’s name and Wentworth actually tries with stan

- out of all the losers club couples they are the angstiest just try and fight me on this

- stan has seen richie at his WORST, like hysterical sobbing and screaming

- richie has seen stan at his LOWEST, because Stan’s mental health is something no one but richie knows about

- They would follow each other to the end of the goddamn earth (because richie wants to annoy stan forever and stan needs to make sure richie doesn’t end up hurting himself over something dumb)

- their banter is so savage and everyone is so shocked they don’t actually get upset over it

- but if someone else insults the other person they square up

- ‘Only I can say belittling and down right mean shit to him, how dare you!’

- their fights are explosive but they last like 2 minutes

- he’ll never admit it, but seeing richie blush is Stan’s favourite thing in the world

- Stan is a smooth talker and gets richie flustered sometimes in the most annoying places and Richie hates the shit eating smirk on Stan’s face

- their first kiss was during an argument because richie is a jealous little shit and hates stan being around bill so much

- Stan kisses him to shut him the fuck up (and also because he’s been wanting to do it for years)

- To calm him down stan holds Richie’s hand behind their backs and rubs his thumb over his knuckles

- Stan gets panic attacks a lot and Richie knows that he just has to tell him to breath and to make sure he’s not touching him (claustrophobia is a bitch) before he can calm down

- RICHIE WAS THE ONLY FUCKING LOSER TO GO TO STANS BAR MITZVAH OKAY NOT EVEN BILL WENT SO YEAH EXPLAIN THAT TO ME.

- They’re the most stubborn boys on gods green earth and will never admit they love each other and just kiss and hook up as ‘friends’ because it’s easier

- It’s also a good way for stan to take out his anger and richie loves it??

- But one night richie has a bad night at home and stan literally spends HOURS worshipping him to make him see that he’s loved

- Richie was a mess afterwards and even cried, but stan held him so close and stroked his hair and cried with him as they fell asleep together

- Stan attends every one of Richie’s band gigs even though he hates crowds and loud music because he lives for seeing the look of pure joy on that boy’s face when he’s on stage

- Richie goes bird watching with stan even though he can’t sit still and asks dumb questions throughout their time together

- Richie sang ‘ever fallen in love’ by the buzzcocks one night and stared at stan the entire time and stan literally had a panic attack and ran out because oh shit he really is in love with this fucking idiot SHIT

- Their first real ‘I love yous’ are outside stans house at 3am in the pouring rain and richie can’t see because he’s glasses are soaked and stan is shivering because hes only wearing a thin jumper but richie still kisses him like Stan’s air and honestly stan just melts

- THEY ARE SOULMATES. *Wyatt Oleff voice* FIGHT ME, FIGHT ME

the art of chasing ♔ billy hargrove

concept: steve has a female best friend and billy has taken it upon himself to flirt with her just to piss steve off. that’s it. that’s the plot.

a/n: i don’t know where this came from. it just sort of happened. it’s not really an imagine bc i don’t like writing in second person or even first person, hence the reason the girl actually has a name. but i guess it can classify as one. i’ll be glad to write more if people enjoy it. also just a disclaimer, i don’t condone billy’s behavior in the show. i know he’s an asshole. but i do love dacre montgomery, so. this happened. also this has no timeframe, it’s just basically taking place randomly in season 2. each scenario is numbered separately that way i can write however many i want whenever i want. sound good?~~


just a young gun with a quick fuse,

i was uptight, wanna let loose.

i was dreamin’ of bigger things and

wanna leave my old life behind.

#1

“’Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit…’” he reiterated in a high-pitched rendition of Nancy Wheeler’s voice.

Annie’s eyebrows rose as she replaced a few things in her locker.

“Ouch,” she said, frowning a bit. “Are you sure she knew what she was talking about? I mean, she was drunk. She might not have even heard what you said. Drunk people usually don’t.”

Steve Harrington gave her a dubious look as he leaned against the locker next to hers. He inclined his head, a strand of brown hair falling down over his forehead.

Keep reading

Coming Home (Chapter 14)

Quick shout out to @kahuna-burger who suggested the idea of Stane/Tony/ Super Serum. I think that part of the chapter turns out very well!

Sam lays some tough love on his Alpha, but is also amazing and perfect and is there as Tony opens up to him. 

MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy :) 

***************************

The Iron Man nearly died, and the new stations couldn’t cover it enough.

A chopper full of soldiers had gone down, it’s tail end blown off by a rocket or a missile or a lucky shot from some jerk with a gun– no one knew, and honestly no one cared why the helicopter had gone down carrying six soldiers.

All they cared about was that it hadn’t actually gone down.

The chopper was plummeting to the earth, screaming may day may day, soldiers scrambling to hold onto something– anything–praying for salvation, for mercy, for the families they were going to leave behind–

And then a sonic boom and a red tinted flash, or maybe it was a red tinted flash and then a boom, and the Iron Man had appeared from seemingly no where, coming up under the chopper and throwing the full power of it’s repulsors into slowing the choppers descent.

The soldiers had lived, every one of them with nothing worse than a bruise and a scrape to show for their adventure, but the repulsors on the Iron suit went out at the last minute and it took the full weight of the chopper smashing it into the desert floor.

By the time more military personnel got there to help– and probably to capture the suit– it had powered back on and blasted away into the sky, wobbling and sputtering but still going too fast for the base to scramble jets to intercept it.

But everyone knew the robot, or suit, or whatever it was– almost died being crushed under that helicopter.

Sam knew it too, so he was sitting in the lab waiting for Tony when the Iron Man suit came in for a landing through a secret passage that opened up on the far side of the garage.

Keep reading

Chat Room???

Title: Chat Room???

Characters: Dean, Reader, Jody, Sam

Word Count: 2,813

Warning: Fluff, that turns angsty, that comes back to fluff. Pretty normal for supernatural violence

A/N: Not really sure how this one came to me, but I’m glad it did. Enjoy!!



Chevy67: hey

Pie94: hey stranger, how’ve things been?

Chevy67: meh, another road, another long drive. How’d work go? Did you talk to your boss?

Pie94: Yup. I was right. He’s an even bigger ass when he’s mad

Chevy67: LOL

Chevy67: at least you tried

Keep reading

OK, let's talk.... *sigh*


Please stop going with Keko to tell her that you hate her by Durik. NOT, ENOUGH. I know she doesn’t care but I do because I know it’s my fault.
Folks, the Fell Poth was never a nice ship, at least not at all; You never knew well how were the personalities of Cupcake or Rurik, never, to say they were. Besides that I always saw them as a forced couple because of the Poth’s fault, despite their different personalities.

Cupcake is not the romantic type, Rurik is the affective type and Dante gives him what he wanted: love, initiative, provocation and perversion. (Let’s not forget the perversion, that leads to a lot of sex and Rurik is very sexual). Dante has everything that Rurik likes.
So in these 2 months that I didn’t have my laptop, I was talking to Keko a lot and the interaction about them both; that at first they were only a sexual partner but Dante attracted Rurik and Rurik ended up falling in love with him for what he was; and that’s how it ended.

For me and Keko, they are the most HOTEST couple we have ever met and they really get along well in all aspects hehe
So I say: Yes, it’s Cannon. I like it a lot and it has a good base, and very solid too.
And although Rurik likes Cup to always be there with him and Cup loves Rurik, but Cup will never  will he show affection to him; besides that Cup really doesn’t care that Rurik “cheats’‘  him. Rurik for the first time has fallen in love as he should and is happy.
That’s the whole story. 


So please, don’t go tell Keko such childish things that she doesn’t deserve it…

anonymous asked:

Prompt idea I'm too nervous to try writing: One of the Side's eyes change colors depending on his mood, and no one notices until they're nearly black one day from sadness/red from anger, and whatever you want can happen afterwards. You choose what colors represent which emotions, which side, and any relationships (I love them all). Angst is appreciated but fluff is also wonderful. Sorry if it's a bad prompt it's just an idea I had. You're an amazing writer!

A/N: This is an amazing prompt! I put a slightly different spin on it, but it’s still the same basic idea. I’m also now obsessed with this au, and will probably write more of it in the future. Enjoy!

Tag List (let me know if you want to be removed/added!): @thuriweaver @bloodropsblog @justanotherpurplebutterfly @cosmic-chu @lynlinked @imnotamermaidimanangel @lollingtothemax @sombraplayslazertag @softbludemon 


Patton was at the core of a lot of Thomas’s feelings. And not that this was new news, all the other sides knew this. There was a reason they called him the “heart” after all. However, there was something odd that happened to Patton because of his emotions. His right eye would change colors. While his left eye would stay the same warm brown color, the other would change according to his emotions. When he was happy, it would be a golden yellow. When he was sad, it was a dark blue, so dark it was nearly black. When he was scared or anxious, it would turn purple. When he was calm, it was light blue. And the list of colors could go on and on.

So yes, Patton’s right eye could change colors. And he hated it. It made him feel ugly and out of place. Thankfully, none of the other sides seemed to notice his… condition. That is, until now.

Keep reading

{ glory and gore }

tags: @ghostierawrrawr @nonbinarywildchild @ichbineinlesbisch@mizzallfamdomz @psycho-b1tch @tniki713 @dyinginside-bro@coololdsoulpoetlove @lilyofthevalley63 @patron-saintof-sluts @blu932@laureninthewoods @an-enigmatic-avenger@humanityscoconut @glorlfy@bethbat @myselfandi56 @hanakatsumi @upinit-lovinit @lattes-and-wildflowers@sarmar29 @pls-give-me-some-sp8ce @promisesandmore @sapphire-roseee@breathingstops @obiwan824 @skipfire@tremendouslypaleangel@companionintime @scrabblesense @xdsockmonkey @juggernaut-jet @sarahgurl09 @violentsummer@evietheunicorn3-blog @adaydreaminganon@librarychild @likemyfatherbutboulder @tigerlily316 @my-mind-at-work@mythical-canary @allegedmultifandomwriter @poptartroyalty@brynnjaminthings @blu79790 @ryebreadwithaknife@imatransformersfanlol@isntthisenoughwhatwouldbeenough @mzfirefox01 @iifangirlingii @bear-num-mom @kolelondon24@snazzydoesthings  @shadoweddarkness@ohmystars30 @theunderstandingmomfriend @my-mind-at-work @alexander-did-it-first@um—hi @missmrene @elliebellylikestojelly @thoughtfultrain @justinkyloscase @someoneisholdingmynamehostage

au: vampire, 1920s

t/w: cursing, yelling, angst

inbox || masterlist

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five


four.

“Bite me,” you whispered, leaning closer to Thomas. You came and sat on his lap, gently moved your hips against him. “P-Please.”

Thomas smiled, stroked your cheek tauntingly. “What was that?”

You whined, tucked your head into the crook of his neck. You gripped his shirt a little tighter, held him close.

“Bite me.” You said softly, voice full of desire and lust.

“Is that translation for fuck me too?”

“Yes.” You blushed, looking up at him. Thomas smirked, set his hands on your hips possessively. His sharp nails dug into your skin. For once you didn’t mind.

“Pretty little thing.” Laf wrapped his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck sweetly. You mewled, pulled him closer. “What is it you want again?” He asked teasingly, reaching down between your thighs.

“Bite me, fuck me,” You whimpered. “Want you both.”

Thomas lifted your dress, bundled it up around your waist while Laf continued to kiss your neck. He kissed your shoulder tenderly and you let out a gasp as he gently bit there. 

“Be still, pet.”

You woke up with a start and sat upright in bed. You felt hot and bothered. A bit of sweat was along your shoulder and your hair at the nape of your neck stood on end. You tucked your knees into your chest and tried to steady your breathing.

What was wrong with you? You hated Thomas. He hurt you. He hurt Ben. You hated Thomas.

So why were you dreaming of him? Laf was understandable but not Thomas. Not him.

It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. You hate him. You hate him.

What was happening to you?

Keep reading

bad omen | C3 | sweet pea

I sat slumped forward in my seat, arms wrapped around my bag. Every so often, my eyes would threaten to slip shut, and I’d have to remind myself that while this wasn’t exactly the best excuse for an educational facility, I still needed to be awake and at full attention. Especially with Sweet Pea hovering dangerously close.

I ran my hands over my face tiredly, pulling on the skin beneath my eyes slightly as I let out a quiet groan. From the corner of my eye, I could see Sweets eyebrows raise in question. I thought about muttering something about losing sleep over him, thought about letting him know that I had created that much anxiety for myself over a stupid biology project that he couldn’t even be bothered to participate in.

I had scribbled down unwilling to work and lazy under the bullet points I already had from the previous night. While I was certain that was unsatisfactory in Mr Birdy’s eyes, it would have to do. Perhaps it would get a message across that working with Sweets was just a bad idea.

“Cal?” I snapped my attention to the front, watching the faces of several students turn to me from their small collective groups.

“Can you repeat the question?” I asked quietly, swallowing as I sunk in my chair.

Birdy sighed, “What qualities are you attracted to in a potential mate?”

“I — what? You want me to list characteristics of a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

I pressed my lips together firmly, hearing Sweets breathe out a quiet laugh from next to me, “Could you call on someone else first?” I asked, slightly agitated.

Birdy looked down at the floor, then pointed his finger towards my partner, “You’re up, SP. What qualities are you looking for?”

“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” Birdy repeated, folding his arms, slightly intrigued.

“What does this have to do with the unit?” Someone asked from the back of the crowd. Thankful for the distraction, I sat upright in my seat and hastily flipped through the pages of my textbook, eyeing the board for the chapter he had instructed us to have read for the day.

“Every animal on the planet attracts mates with the goal of reproduction. Frogs swell their bodies, male gorillas beat their chests. Attraction is the first element of all animal reproduction, humans included.” Birdy turned to the rest of the class, and held his hands out. “Alright, SP. You’re at a party — or bonfire, whatever it is you do. There’s all different kinds of girls — different shapes, different sizes, all types of hair colours and personalities. You find one that fits your criteria — intelligent, attractive, and vulnerable. How do you approach the situation?”

Sweets smirked, “Single her out.”

“Good. What’s next?”

“I have to figure out if she’s game. So I’ll study her — what’s her body language saying? Is she open, is she pulled back? Does she engage in physical contact? You know, touch my arm, twirl her hair, that sort of bullshit. Does she bite her lip the way Cal is right now?”

I instinctively pressed my mouth into a tight line and scowled, sending a glare in his direction. This drew a few snickers from other Serpent’s in the room.

“She’s for it.” He stated confidently, bumping his knee against mine rhythmically.

I felt the heat creep into my face.

“She’s angry.” He continued, leaning forward, hands on his knees as he watched me. “See how she tries to busy herself with her notebook? She’s trying to pull attention away from her face, to bring it to her hand. Both are equally appealing, if you ask me.”

I nearly choked on the air; instead I leaned forward, hiding my face in my hands, slightly mortified. The class erupted into a chorus of laughter — I felt my eyes sting the slightest bit, trying to remind myself that one boy with his cocky know-it-all demeanor was not going to set a reputation for me in this pathetic excuse for a school. I turned to look at him, wrapping my fingers around my mother’s necklace as he studied me carefully.

Vulnerable, He mouthed, adding a wink as Birdy clapped his hands excitedly. He had somehow managed to capture the remaining students attention — the rest of the period had turned into several of the males trying to dehumanize their respective female partners in the same way Sweets had humiliated me.

He definitely hated me. I was absolutely convinced that Sweet Pea was over trying to make me blush or try his luck.

When the bell dismissed the group, I hardly wanted to wait and stick around to get the tailgate of Birdy’s instructions for the reading that night. Instead of bolted out of the room, pulling the hood of my sweater up over my head, keeping my chin close to my chest as I beelined for the girls bathroom.

The group of girls smoking in the corner next to the mirrors watched me as my shoulders shook and my chest heaved, “Get out.” I mumbled. Their faces contorted in confusion, ignoring my words. I tried again, “Get out!” I demanded louder, pointing a shaky finger towards the door.

They left slowly, gathering their belongings into their bags as they exited out of the bathroom. I gripped the sink tightly, staring myself down in the mirror.

I greatly disliked all forms of attention — especially negative attention. Unknowingly, Sweets had just labelled me as a prime candidate for continuous banter; eventually, the rest of the school would find out about our episode during second period and the entire student body would be watching my every move. I had intended to blend in as best as I could, had even opted to wear colours that drew in less attention, courtesy of Danny’s wardrobe.

“You look like a mess.” I snapped my eyes up in the reflection of the mirror to where the brunette stood, watching me carefully from the door. “Trouble in paradise?” She asked with a snort, moving to the sink next to me. She was just a few inches taller than I was, her brown hair was left wild and curled.

I turned my attention back to the sink, turning the faucet on to watch as the sink filled with cold water. “I’m fine,” I lied, shoving my hands into the cold water. “Just tired.” That wasn’t a whole lie — I hadn’t slept for twenty four hours, and I wasn’t exactly known for insomnia.

“Don’t let SP get to you.” The girl tried, casting a sideways glance at me, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, that’s definitely expected SP behaviour — but not necessarily to that extent.”

I dropped my head, pulling air into my lungs with more focus than necessary, “I told him I didn’t like him.” I grumbled, turning the faucet off.

I watched the girl pull her eyebrows up in surprise, right before her lips cracked into a large smile and she let out a loud laugh. “Girl,” She started, patting me on the shoulder, “That is single-handedly the most badass thing I’ve ever heard — we have to be friends, I won’t take no for an answer.”

I pushed away from the sink, running my fingers through my hair nervously, “Uh, I don’t really do the whole friend thing — but thanks for the offer.”

She paused for a moment, quiet as I gathered my bag off the floor and readjusted my shirt, “I’m Kabrina.”

I halted my movements, watching my reflection in the mirror. I tried to keep the annoyance from striking across my features; admittedly, I had wondered if one female friend in this hellhole might ease my conscious. I pursed my lips together as I holded my arms and turned to face her fully; she definitely filled out more in areas that I lacked. Her hips were set wider, making her waist appear smaller — which in turn made her chest appear larger.

“Cal.” I said cautiously, extending my hand forward to shake hers. “How did you hear about what happened with SP?”

“I sit in the back,” She responded, pulling a tube of lip-gloss from her pocket. “I’ve never seen him more engaged in his education — which benefits him, I guess, he can’t really afford to fail again.”

I pulled my brow together, following her out of the restroom, “Again?”

“Sweets is a senior.” Kabrina explained, folding her arms across her chest, “Technically.”

“But?” I asked, keeping my voice low as we entered the cafeteria.

“Not sure if he was held back, or if he missed a year. He got moved around a lot as a kid — at least that’s what they tell me.” She laughed, sticking some change into the vending machine. A group of Ghoulies stood on the other side of the bright blue machine, watching us closely. We waited until we were out of earshot before Kabrina continued, “He’s a year older than the rest of us sophomores, but he’s in all of our classes. It’s probable he failed and was held back.”

I considered this, nodding slowly to myself as I grabbed her hand and led her to where my cousin’s and their friends typically sat; “Assuming you’re neither Ghoulie or Serpent, you’re welcome to join us.” I stated, turning to Danny with a smile.

“You made a friend.” He noted, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

I nodded, “I did — this is Kabri —”

“Kabrina Sobon.” Josh finished, smiling up at her frame as he scooted over, “Southside’s very own bad and boujee.”

I grimaced the terms, taking my seat next to Don. “That’s gross,” I muttered, shoving my hands into my sweater pockets.

Kabrina laughed lightly, dropping her bag onto the table top as she sat in the chair in between Danny and Josh, “What are you girls gossiping about now?” She asked, nudging Danny with her elbow.

“Sweets little escapade in bio this morning.” Don replied grimly, looking over Danny’s shoulder to where the Serpent’s sat tucked away in their little portion of the cafeteria. I snapped my eyes to Donovan’s quickly, shaking my head a little.

“What happened in bio?” Danny asked me, raising a brow.

I shrugged, “Typical Sweet Pea behaviour — that’s all.” I lied, trying my best to make it sound as though there was nothing to be worried about. “No biggie.” I added, cracking my lips into a grin.

Throughout the remainder of the day, I noticed that the Serpents had shifted; I had completely overlooked it in Marketing, but I definitely noticed in History when Sweets strolled in, shot me a sly smirk before he proceeded to kick out the student from his seat in front of me.

My brows pulled together when he straddled the chair and sat down facing me, folding his arms across the top of my desk. His brown hues were bright and playful, the corner of his lips upturned into a smile that made me want to squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

We sat like that for about thirty seconds before I decided to break the silence; I sat back in my chair and folded my legs overtop one another, “Can I help you?” I asked tiredly, trying to feign boredom.

Sweet Pea’s lips broke into a wider smile, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

I narrowed my eyes, folding my arms across my chest, “Was what I said last night too subtle for you?” I asked, letting my tone slip the slightest to appear condescending. “Because I distinctly remember mentioning that I didn’t like sitting with you —”

“But we had so much fun this morning,” He cut me off, propping his chin up with his knuckles.

“Right. Fun.” I grumbled, flipping open my textbook as the teacher entered the room.

“You don’t think so?” He asked, dropping his face to my eye-level. There seemed to be genuine concern in his features, his mouth and eyes softening the slightest.

“If you insist on making my life here insufferable, could you at least pretend to pay attention in class?” I responded, clenching my jaw tightly after I had finished speaking. I glared past his head, trying to indicate that the conversation was over. Sweet Pea, after careful assessment, nodded once and turned in his seat. I spent a better half of the period staring at the back of his skull, trying not to think of how utterly satisfying it would be to just smack him.

I tried to force my shoulders to relax as I made my way to my last period, knowing he wouldn’t be there. I pulled my hair up into a pony, and exited the gymnasium to fill up my water bottle at the fountain just outside the doors. Through the tiny window, I could see the top of a familiar head — I burst through the doors angrily, open palms placed on his broad chest as I shoved him, “What is wrong with you?” I growled, looking up at his height with a venomous glare.

Easy, princess.” He warned, rocking back on his heels. His arms folded neatly across his chest; for the first time, I noticed the rings on his left hand and the tattoo on his right thumb.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, mocking his stance as I folded my own arms and tried to (unsuccessfully) hold my ground.

SP lifted an eyebrow, pulling the corner of his lip up along with it, “Technically, I have fitness.” He replied smugly, his smile only growing further when he noticed the disdain on my face.

“You don’t come to fitness.” I accused, narrowing my eyes.

“Maybe I should to start — get my beach bod and all that.” He joked, leaning against the wall beside the fountain. I watched him carefully, then slowly twisted the cap off my bottle and stuck it under the faucet. “I noticed you’re hangin’ with Bri now.”

I pulled my brows together, “Who?”

“Bri.” When I lifted a brow, clearly confused, he repeated, “Kabrina?”

“Oh, her.” I said stiffly, feeling my lips tug down at the ends. “Uh, yeah, she’s a friend. Sort of. I guess.”

Sweet Pea nodded once, shaking his head a little to keep the hair from falling directly into his eyes, “Not exactly the greatest company, princess.”

“First of all, stop calling me princess.” I demanded, twisting the lid back onto my water bottle, “Second of all, I highly doubt she’s worse company than a snake.”

“Ouch,” He pressed his palm to his chest in mock hurt, “That really hurt my feelings, Callie.”

I rolled my eyes, exaggerating the sigh that I forced past my lips. Spending three periods a day with Sweet Pea was exhausting and traumatizing enough; having fitness be the only place I have some sanctuary in this god forsaken hellhole, it was unnerving that he suddenly decided to show up. The semester was halfway over — obviously, SP was taking torment to a whole other level. Was he purposely trying to bother me? Did he take pleasure in making me severely uncomfortable? “I’m sure your ego isn’t bruised too badly.”

“I’m just being honest; Sobon is notorious for latching onto good girls and sucking the innocence out of them.” He stated matter-o-factly with a smug grin. “I’d hate to see such a pretty face crumble.”

“That’s cute,” I responded, feigning innocence as I leaned against the wall and placed a hand on my hip, “You think I’m a good girl.”

His face dropped, causing the warmth in his eyes to disappear as his grin shifted. It was that damn smile —  a smile that screamed I should run, caused my stomach and turn uneasily. Definitely the smile of a boy that guaranteed trouble. “I know you’re a good girl.” Sweets moved forward — I felt my body freeze involuntarily as his fingers came up to tuck stray hairs behind my ear, his thumb gently caressing my ear, “Blonde hair, blue eyes,” He started listing off attributes, his eyes thoroughly scanning over my body, “What — five feet? Four eleven?” SP took a step back, tilting his head to the side. “Pouty lips —”

“Stop.” I stammered, standing upright as I smacked his hand away from my face. “Stereotyping me doesn’t make me a good girl —”

Sweets rolled his eyes, “C’mon, baby, you’re killin’ me here.” He groaned, leaning forward with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, “You look like a fuckin’ Northsider that took a detour and got lost — and let’s not forget about the fact that you’re probably the only student here that takes this piece of shit school seriously.”

I licked my lips as I fumbled with the label on my water bottle, “Y’know, good grades mean more post-secondary options — which means moving far, far away from here.”

“You think I could leave?” He asked suddenly, his voice dropping the light-hearted playfulness tone (that I wasn’t even aware it had taken on), replacing it with animosity. “That college is really an option for someone like me?” He didn’t have to say it outloud for me to know what he was referring to. I let my eyes scan over the tattoo on his neck, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. “If you’re as smart Birdy claims you are, then you’ve already put two and two together —”

“And that’s how you’re gonna spend the rest of your life? Under the table drug deals, hanging out at dive bars, reliving the good ol’days?” I asked sarcastically, taking a step towards him. “I highly doubt that’s all you want for yourself, Sweet Pea.”

“It’s not about what I want.” Sweets said firmly, standing upright and tall, “My world is black and white, not grey. What I want and what I’m going to get are two entirely different things.” There seemed to be a sadness to his voice; I tried not to think too much into it. We stood in silence for a few moments, staring at each other blankly before I heaved a sigh and took a step back.

“Well I know what I want.” I replied simply. I had it all sorted out in my head. As soon as I had turned sixteen, I promised myself that I’d pack everything that mattered and leave the state altogether. I’d head North, end up somewhere just over the border. I wasn’t held to Riverdale or Greendale by any obligations — programs I had already looked into were better in Canada. Cheaper, too. As soon as I graduated, I’d leave. I’d never look back, I’d never come back.

That was a goddamn promise.

I tightened my pony, and smiled to myself, “I’m getting out of here as soon as I can.”

“Is that so?” SP asked, taking a step forward. I hadn’t realized how compromising my current situation really was until my back was pressed against the cool wall, the door blocked by his large frame. I nodded vigorously, not trusting my voice.

Sweet Pea placed his hands on the wall on either side of my head, leaning down so that he could be at eye-level with me, forcing me to keep eye contact. It wasn’t until that moment that I had really (I mean, really) looked at him. His eyes were a pretty brown hue, with flecks of gold around the pupils. There was a faintest (faintest) hint of warm brown freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he smelt like cigar smoke and motor-oil (his breath, however, seemed to smell minty).

“I don’t plan on sticking around long.” I mumbled quietly, licking my lips again, “Try not to get too attached.”

Sweet Pea smirked, “Promise I won’t if you won’t.” He lowered his hand to rest in between us; his middle finger was extended, similar to how pinkies were extended to solidify promises. I hesitated briefly before I brought my middle finger to his and linked them tightly, pleasantly surprised by his warmth. Using his strength, he pulled on my grip to bring us closer, his jaw working under the skin as he leaned down, warm breath saturating the hair just above my ear, “Now get back to class.”


TAG LIST: 

@sprinklesandsugarcubes @jolomez @cinn-rawr @allison-rosewood-maximoff  @ideolypsia 

all i need is you

“i would marry you in a dumpster”
“awww, i would marry you in a dumpster!”

or, the one where jake just wants everything to be perfect.
(post 5x06 fluff)
read on ao3

“Hey.” He exhales softly into the quiet, still darkness of their bedroom - long after they’ve turned out the lights. The muted shadows of the street lamps outside illuminate just enough of the room so that Jake can just about make out the outline of his girlfriend – no, his fiancée - lying next to him, breathing silently enough that he knows he isn’t disturbing a deep sleep. 

(She looks just as beautiful when she’s an amorphous black shape as she usually does.)
(God, he can’t wait to marry her.)

“Hey, Ames - you still awake?”
“…No.” She mutters into her pillow, barely audible, and he laughs a little.
“Okay then. Guess I’ll just…talk to myself.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

The timeline for toe will never add up for you delusionals because she tricked you by finally getting smart and dating PRIVATELY. So stop trying to figure out the timeline as you are so out of the loop, lost and have been tricked. Toe is probably doing a sixty nine right now. She will most certainly NOT be at the vsfs. Fame w h o r e karkie and her family will need to use someone else for fame. You notice Taylor's family never likes delusional kaylor crap because they know the real truth.

I always find it hilarious that unsecure & scared extreme Het shippers come & troll my blog with their nonsense, just to try to reassure themselves….As if their messages could have any effect on me…that’s so naive at this point…

Anon, if you had the good sense and curiosity to read my blog from time to time, you’d realize that this kind of messages only make me laugh my ass off….you just ridiculize yourself, really…it’s also pathetic to show that much hate towards Karlie..

The ones who are being tricked and lied to: guess what ? it’s you, the Hets…Sorry but it’s the truth…The Toe timeline is a fricking mess & every new behind the scene video shows it more & more….

And now we learned that Tay had started working on Dress a year before starting recording it, so how can it be about baby Joe ?

I feel sorry for you, bc you’re gonna have the biggest hangover of your lives….

Like we say in French: The hardest part is not the fall, but the landing.

My advice to you: Enjoy Prada Boy & the messed up Het narrative as much as you can, bc it won’t last… And all your hateful messages & anger won’t change a thing about it….

And same for the fake Anons you guys send to each other, with pathetic Secret Sessions stories, just to reassure yourselves…Bc soon, you’ll look ridiculous, and all these lies will be exposed…

Oh and if i were you, i’d be more accepting of Karlie : bc not only she’s not going anywhere, but also the day Tay gets married: it will be to her….

And the sooner you accept it, the better…

the signs as things that my renaissance drama lecturer has said to us over the past few weeks

  • aries: “if you don’t like what i’m doing, feel free to throw something. i respond well to tomatoes”
  • taurus: “i’ve never really been one for conspiracy theories, but consider this: what if christopher marlowe faked the moon landing?”
  • gemini: “and the moral of the story is, don’t slag off agamemnon”
  • cancer: “in ten minutes my colleague will come on and do something clever. what will he do? we don’t know. maybe he’ll assemble a trestle table. maybe he’ll read us some beautiful poetry. we just don’t know, and that’s the wonder of it.”
  • leo: “i know audience participation sucks and we hate it, but you guys have to help me out here. i’m very tired and i don’t know if i remember how to read.“
  • virgo:  “i’m standing way too close to the edge of the stage. if i trip over, i will fall face first into the audience and that will be the end of the lecture.”
  • scorpio: “jeez, it’s hot in here. it’s not just me, is it? look, if someone wants to stand up and go into a dead faint, that would be good. then we can all go home.”
  • sagittarius: “for a moment there, just a second, numbers stopped being real. is five more or less than six? i haven’t slept in 2 days”
  • capricorn: “and here, in the true climactic scene of the play, hal and hotspur meet for the first time - to kill each other. and it’s - holy shit it’s so good. i’m not even going to tell you what happens. it’s too good, you have to read it yourself. this is a spoiler-free zone, my guys”
  • aquarius: “the merchant of venice is my least favourite shakespeare play, because nobody - not once, not a single time does anyone ever cross a canal. how can you set a play in venice and have no canals? basic research failure, willy. it’s a zero from me.”
  • pisces: “i’ve never read a book in my life”

Hi Guys! I wanna be real with everyone here for a moment.

First of all, I wanna thank every single one of you whose taken the time out of your day to read my work (and even more thanks to those of you who’ve taken the time to send me feedback!) Nothing More, By Heart and Bruise are all incredibly special to me and I’m so proud of them. It’s so overwhelming to see so much love and support from you guys because of something I created and I value it so much.

Limerence was something I had in my head as a very vague idea while I was starting on Bruise. I wasn’t 100% sure on the plot up until i wrote the first chapter, and even in the week that’s passed to write the second I’ve changed a lot. To be honest I feel like i had to force part two out and It just didn’t flow well for me, and writing part one was very much the same. I feel stunted with the story and unable to find a rhythm/mood that matches well with the writing and subject matter.

I’m finding myself generally not very inspired writing this one, and struggling to create content I’m proud of. I’m really conflicted with what to do, because I want to be producing works that I enjoy and am proud of, but I don’t want to let anyone down. I’ve contemplated putting it on Hiatus but I feel like I would never come back to it. I’ve also debated shortening the plot and trying to force out the rest but don’t think that’s something you guys want (and you deserve stuff I’m proud of.)

I guess what I’m asking is what you guys would prefer I do. At this point I don’t think Limerence is a story that is living up to what I wanted, and that I rushed to write it immediately after Bruise so i wouldn’t loose momentum and ultimately that stunted my creativity. If I would discontinue the series I would happily answer any questions you had about the fic that were never answered, and would most likely delete it off the blog so no one else reads a fic that would likely never be finished.I could also put it on pause and come back to it someday, but at this point that doesn’t seem like something that will happen.I’m really sorry if I’ve let anyone down, I really hate having to even make a post trying to explain how I’m feeling because you’re all so sweet and understanding I know you’ll say its okay even if you’re disappointed. I hope you understand where I’m coming from, I’m sure any of you that have made anything in a creative form understand how it feels to start something and it just not be something you can finish or find the initial passion you felt for it. Sorry this is so long, kinda went on rambling. I feel really disappointed in myself and I’m really sorry if possibly deleting it upsets anyone, but I think it’s important I keep the content up I’m proud of and inspired to write, and to not force it. I hope you guys stick with me and still look forward to works I want to write. I’m sorry x

mom, i hate you. i really do, i’m sorry. i know you’ll never be able to understand. i know you mean it when you say you love me, but you are like a lit match. the way you love is dangerous and i hate you for it. i hate you even though it isn’t your fault. it was how you were raised, you caught your fire from your mother, and i’m so scared of catching it too. someday someone else will hate me the way i hate you, because we’re just alike, two twin fires who can’t see the burns our love leaves.

5

RJ: I hate that you think so poorly of me. But I never lied to you. You knew I was sleeping with Margaux when we hooked up, just like I knew you were sleeping with Nicky. I don’t lie to my partners. Now I realize it’s probably not the best thing to do-to be intimate with two people at once even if you’re upfront about it. Because Margaux knows all about you. Knows exactly how I feel about you. 

Diosa sneers: Does she really? How nice.

RJ: She does. She also knows that I was thisclose to ending things with her to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want me. 

Diosa snaps: And now she’s conveniently pregnant.

RJ: Diosa, things like this happen. You should know that better than anyone. But honestly? The way I feel about you? I’d still end it with her, pregnant or not. I’d be a father to my child, but I’d end it with her. *fierce*  I love you that much, Diosa. All you have to do is tell me that you’ll have me, that you’ll marry me when you come of age. That you’ll build a life with me. That you’ll let me take care of you. Diosa, tell me that, and I’ll end it with Margaux.

Diosa whispers: You want my answer to that?

RJ nods: Yes. Tell me how you feel. 

She slaps him hard across the face.

Diosa: THAT’s how I feel. I despise you, RJ. You know I love Nicky and I always will. I only wanted to call you out for the big two face that you are. I wanted to say it to your face.

He nods, holds a hand to his cheek. She turns away, her breathing ragged. 

Why? Why was she so afraid of telling him she loved him?

Guys don’t worry

Hey guys I am writing this because I know people get sad at times about things like this, I know I do. Just because someone doesn’t want to talk or be our friend or even rp with you it’s okay. One person or even 5 does not make up the rest of the people who care and want to be friends and love you. So to those who ever want to quit and give up for those reasons. Don’t because then you are letting them win.

Not only that but you are going to make those who DO care and love you sad because you are gone. Don’t risk the love of people liking you just because a few don’t.

Be stronger than hate be stronger than those who look down on you. And please never stop trying and doing what you love.

Also if it helps know even if you feel like this know I will never hate or think lower of you in any way. So if you ever need a friend come pm me.

(Feel free to re-blog this if you feel the same btw XD)

anonymous asked:

Erm, do you have any tips for ignoring ship hate? Particularly the "Usuk is incest"? I'm sorta a newbie to fandoms and such, I'd never let someone stop me from shipping something I love but it's always something in my mind....

i actually forgot about the argument for a little while bc its been a hot second since i got a ship hate ask like this, but uhhhh yea i mean– just know that you like what ya like and if it aint harming anybody (or contributing to a toxic mindset) then there are ppl who celebrate the same thing and thats worth fighting for c:

Do you know what’s hard to believe, but somehow funny? The fact that, for three years, I had been friends with a person who has recently turned into a b*tch. As much as she respected and loved me as a friend, just as much she insulted me now, along with her best friend who doesn’t know me at all. They told me that I’m antisocial, useless, pathetic, stupid, nerd, afraid of life, that I will never get to become a doctor, that I will never make friends because everyone hates me, that my parents can’t wait to get rid of me and, last but not least, to go and kil myself. And you know why? Because I told them straight in the face that they became horrible people. They expected to see me crying and stuff like that, but you know what I did? Laughing. Do they think I’m an idiot to not notice that those words were especially said in hope of bringing me down? Damn, look at what society has become.