Hey guys. I don’t know if anyone ever talked about this or brought it up, but I want to talk about this thing with Stan. I feel like he’s a better fighter and wins when he’s not well clothed in some cases
I mean look at this:
He can take out eagles without his sleeves
He can take out zombies with part of clothes ripped
And can take out a DEMON without his suit
However, when he’s well-dressed in his suit and it isn’t damaged, he’s much weaker.
In his suit he….
was weaker than his brother in a fight and Ford beat him fast
Got hit by a robot badger and almost lost if it wasn’t for Goldie
And got knocked down and defeated by lots of hands
Looks like he fights better not well dressed than perfectly dressed up
even saw isak on the first day of school and since he was always strategically placed in isak’s line of sight when isak started noticing him, even probably followed him around and sat close to him whenever he could. this means that he saw all the little things no one else noticed. he saw isak yawning and scratching his nose when it was too damn early for anyone to be fully awake. he saw isak stretch his arms above his head and make that high pitched whiny noise. he saw isak hum the postman pat theme song while waiting for the boy squad to show up at lunch. he saw isak struggle with his locker and completely destroy his books every single day. he saw all these stupid things people do when they think no one’s looking and he was completely mesmerized by it
A new discovery about the Plaidypus has necessitated that I
expand my previous entries upon them, and indeed include an entirely new
creature to my Journal.
While generally docile, the Platypus do actually have venomous
spurs similar to their mundane counterparts. However, instead of releasing a toxin
that causes pain, it invokes a transformation within this victim.
I made this discovery after being injured by one of their spurs
myself. At first there was no reaction, so I concluded that the
Plaidypus must be non-venomous, but this was soon to be proven otherwise. At the setting of the sun I was
transformed into a half man, half Plaidypus beast that I will from henceforth
refer to as “The Were-Plaidypus”!
Unlike the traditional Were-form, I seem to change every
night rather than according to changes in the lunar cycle. Fortunately, other than a ravenous desire for Maple syrup and shrimp, I seem to
retain all of my human faculties. I have read of a
few lumberjack tails that speak of a cure for my affliction. Tonight I shall
see if these cures work, either way I shall report my findings in the morning.
🐾 - other were (specify)
In which Ford learns about some special aspects of Platypus the hard way. I like to think he was trying to get a platypus pelt by capturing one instead of the correct way he gives in his journal here. (he learns that later.) Otherwise Platypus are perfectly happy to let folks pet and love on them. (because they are soft and I want that to be true.)
A/N: i was forced at gunpoint tonight to write a s4 drabble about bellarke realizing how the other feels about them. Rated T. WC: 1455.
Somehow, quiet is always around Bellamy. It’s like he wears it on his shoulders, along with all the pain and hurt and guilt. She doesn’t know if he’s even aware he projects it. All she knows is when she’s sitting with him like she is tonight, sorting meat packages into piles for storage for Alpha Station’s five years weathering out the storm, everything just feels calmer.
“Pass me the checklist,” Bellamy rumbles, nudging her hand with his. It’s the first thing either of them have said for the past half hour.
She obliges, and he squints at it.
“We’ve got to sort those.” He points. Clarke glances around. “Into different kinds of meat. We forgot to do that.”
“Then we have to do it again,” she exhales, and rakes a hand through her hair, nails digging into her own scalp. That will take another twenty minutes at least. Heavy frustration washes over her in a wave. There’s too much to do. Too many small details to iron out. “There’s not enough time.”
She hears him taking a deep breath— it’s no secret that they’re both counting down the minutes. But when he speaks, his voice is even. “There’ll be plenty of time soon enough. Five years, to be exact.”
She looks up, finds him watching her, dark eyes unreadable, and nods, her throat still feeling tight.
They resume sorting, but this time, it’s his shoulders that are drawn tight, and Clarke feels terrible right then for reminding him how little time they had, as if he weren’t already thinking about it every moment of the day. She scrambles for something to say to distract him. “What do you think you’ll do?”
Bellamy looks up, quirks up a brow.
She clarifies. “What do you think you’ll do with those five years?”
❝You’d always wondered what it would have been like if you and Hoseok had grown up liking each other, if you had had a childhood friend for a neighbor instead of a sworn enemy. While you would literally rather gauge your eyes out with a spoon than be forced to have a conversation with your shit for brains neighbor, a class trip to the museum and one wonky statue places the two of you under a body swap curse with no set way to reverse it.❞
Request: aa can you do a soulmate
au with archie wherein all you see is black and white until you touch your
soulmate? like he bumps into you in the hallway or something and color just
blooms before your eyes?? i dunno of that makes sense or not but your writing
it great!! <3
Summary: (a Soulmate!AU) [In a black
and white world where you find your soulmate when you touch for the first time.
After your skin touches theirs, the two people can see each other in color,
later on expanding into seeing the whole world in color.] Y/n has just moved to
Riverdale and is starting her first day at Riverdale High. Will today be the
day where she’ll find the one she’s been looking for?
Word Count: 1804
of all lmao the summary I just wrote for this was so cheesy I apologize. I had
fun writing this so I hope you have fun reading it but if not sorry I suck. I’m
posting it without editing it so if you see any mistakes I promise I’ll fix
them tomorrow I’m just currently being lazy. Don’t forget to request!
You heard it happened to another
girl from your old school last week. She’d been visiting family in another town
when it happened. You heard it happened like some sort of rom-com. Apparently, she’d
dropped her wallet and he’d tapped on her shoulder to return it to her. She
turned and saw him, like actually saw him, in color. You’d heard it a billion
times. When you touch the right person for the first time, you finally start to
see in color. At first, it’s just them you see in color, everything else stays
black and white, but after a while you can see everything. Something in you
goes right with something in them and the rest is history.
It was hard to even conceptualize.
You’d lived your whole life seeing black and white, what did it even mean to
see in color. They compared it to The
Wizard of Oz, like seeing in Technicolor. Before you touch them is like
Dorothy in Kansas, but after was like when she went over the rainbow to Munchkinland.
People who could see it had tried to explain it to you many times before, but
they always ended up saying it was impossible to explain to someone who
couldn’t see it; you’d see one day. But what if you didn’t? There were people
who lived their whole lives and dies still seeing black and white. Maybe you
would be one of those people.
You felt stupid even thinking about
it. You were only in high school after all. There were people who didn’t see
their person until they were 30, people who didn’t see their person until they
were 60! Why were you so anxious?
You knew you didn’t need
another person to survive or anything, you could take care of yourself. It’s
just the thought of spending your whole life by yourself sounded pretty
unappetizing. Even though so many people hadn’t found their person yet you
couldn’t help the feeling like you were late. You knew a couple that had seen
each other since second grade. You were patient, but you just wanted to know
what you were missing.
Your first day at a new school.
You’d moved into your new house in Riverdale a couple days ago, and it seemed
like a nice town. All the people you’d met seemed welcoming enough and your
room was bigger than in your old house. You hadn’t moved here to find your
person or anything, your mom’s job had a great opportunity here for her, but
you thought maybe this would be that place where it would happen. You didn’t
want to get your hopes up… but what if?
You pulled up into a spot on the
far side of the parking lot at Riverdale High. You took a deep breath before
ripping the band-aid off and opening the car door, making you way toward the
entrance. Various other students were laughing and talking with their friends. To
say you were nervous would be to say that Mount Everest was a bit of a hike: a
huge understatement. It was the first day back from summer, but you’d never
been the new kid before. You didn’t know a soul.
You’d been to the office once
before over the weekend to register for classes so you found your way there
relatively easily once you got inside. You walked into the bustling office and tried
to avoid getting hit by a receptionist who at that speed could have easily
passed for a linebacker. You hesitantly approached a woman behind a desk who
looked busy, but at least noticeably less busy than everyone else. She was typing
up something with a level of ferocity that had to be breaking some sort of
record. You waited uncomfortably for her to finish what she was doing and
notice you standing in front of her. Was she going to finish?
After half a minute and a few final
loud smacks on her keyboard, she pushed up her glasses and looked up at you
with a weary but genuine smile. “Can I help you with something, honey?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said fumbling
through the front pocket of your backpack for the right paper. “Here it is.”
You slid the paper to her with your name and information they had given you
when you’d registered. “I’m new.”
Her eyes scanned the paper and she
turned to grab something from behind the desk. She turned back to you and
passed a piece of paper to you. “So, this is your schedule. The school is a bit
of a maze so let me see if I can find someone…” She looked around the office
and her eyes landed on someone. “Aha!” You followed her line of sight and saw a
boy with his arms full of books walking toward the door. You strained your neck
to see his face but he was turned away. “Mr.
Andrews?!” The boy stopped in his tracks and swiveled around in search for the
source of his name. Whoa. The receptionist waved him over and he made his way
over to you.
You had tried your whole life not
to think about the boys you met too much so you wouldn’t get too attached to
them only for them to see someone else. But boy, oh boy, he was kind of a babe.
“Mr. Andrews, she doesn’t know her
way around the school yet; Could you show her to her to her first class?”
He glanced quickly at you then back
to the receptionist, “Oh, yeah. No problem!”
You smiled graciously at the
receptionist and she turned back to her work.
“So we’re going to…” He looked over
the schedule and mumbled to himself. “Ah, cool.” He looked up at you and
smiled. “That’s not far at all.” You could feel your heart flutter. He started
walking down the hall way and you stayed by his side, a couple inches away. “I
would shake your hand but I don’t really have a free one at the moment,” he
said nodding down to the comically large pile of books he was carrying. “I’m
not trying to be rude, I promise.”
“No, don’t even worry about it.” You
replied. Secretly though, you were kind of upset you couldn’t shake his hand.
You wanted to touch him for a second, just to rule him out as your person. Now
you were going to be thinking about him all day.
“So, are you a freshman? Or just
new?” he asked while maneuvering through the populated hallway.
“Just new. My mom got a promotion
so we moved to Riverdale last week. I’m actually a sophomore.” You explained.
You had a feeling you would have to be telling this story pretty frequently in
the near future.
“Oh, hey, cool! I’m a sophomore
too! Maybe we’ll have classed together and stuff.” He said with a hint of excitement.
You didn’t even know why you were getting your hopes up. For all you know he
had already seen his person.
“I hope so. So far you’re the only
person I’ve met at this school. It would be nice to have a familiar face in a
class or two.” You tried to keep the sound of desperation in your voice to a
He stopped in front of a classroom
on the right side of the hallway, “Well, here we are.”
You didn’t want to leave yet, but
you knew you had to. “Thank you so much for helping me out, by the way.
He smiled and turned to face you,
backing away in the opposite direction “Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around later?”
It only hit you then that you didn’t know his first name. And he didn’t know
your name either. You opened your mouth to speak, some guy rammed into him,
knocking down all his books and making him fall right onto you.
The guy looked at the pile up he’d
caused, “Oh, sorry dude,” and walked away.
“I’m so sorry,” he said lifting
himself off you and turning to pick up his books without looking at you.
You looked down at your backpack and
fixed everything that was misplaced. “It wasn’t your fault,” you comforted
without looking up. “It was that stupid guy, he came out of nowhere.”
It was then that you looked up at
him, and it happened. You could see him. You, quite literally, could not
believe your eyes. You could see the way he really looked, with all the colors
that belonged to him. He looked even more beautiful that you had thought. His
hair was bright – you didn’t know what everyone else’s hair looked like, or
what color to call his, but you knew it was special. You could see the blush in
his cheeks as he fumbled with his books, you hadn’t known what blushing really
looked like. You could see him, and for now, only him.
He still hadn’t looked up from the
books. An overwhelming feeling of fear washed over you. What if he didn’t see
you in color back? That happened sometimes. What if it happened to you? You looked
at him and you wanted to say something, to ask him, but nothing could come out.
“Hey,” he said, “I just realized
that I never got to ask you–” He glanced up and you and back down before he knew
what he had seen. He froze, calculating in his head. He slowly turned his head
up to face you. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at you and for a while,
you just looked back.
You broke the silence, “Can, can
you see me? In color?”
He nodded his head yes but remained
silent. You could see his eyes scanning all over you, looking like it was the
first time he had his eyes, because it kind of was.
With wide eyes he darted his to
yours, realizing, “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” you laughed lightly.
“Well can you? Please?” He laughed
“Y/n,” he said more to himself than
to you, like he was feeling how it felt on him. “I’m Archie.”
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you
“I guess so,” You were in as much
shock as he was. This was definitely not how you had expected your first day at
Riverdale High to start, but you certainly weren’t complaining.
“Do you want to get out of here? We
can talk and stuff,” he asked standing up.
“There is nothing more I want in
the world.” You reached out your hand and he pulled you up. You walked right
out the school and onto the street abandoning all the papers and books. You had
more important things to do. You were finally seeing in Technicolor.
Request: #50: “I can think of five good uses for that mouth.” With Harry please 😊
Pairing: Harry x Reader
Warnings: Dirty talk ;), Light smut
You woke up with your head on his chest, listening to the same rhythmic heartbeat you fell asleep to. The heartbeat of none other than your boyfriend, Harry. His steady breathing making your head rise and fall.
You looked up at him. He was still asleep, so you decided to wake him yourself. You began kissing just above his collarbone and trailed up to the skin where his jaw and ear met, earning a soft moan from him. That moan was followed be a chuckle.
You continued your work, kissing along his jaw and back up to the corner of his mouth.
He opened his eyes. “I can think of five good uses for that mouth.” he smirked, his voice raspy.
You lifted your eyebrows. “Oh really?” You sat up and slowly straddled his hips. “And what might they be?”
“Let’s just say none of them involve kissing me. Well, up here, at least.” He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled you down so your faces were millimeters apart.
“What?” He laughed back. “A guy’s got needs.”
You started sliding your hand down his arm. “And what do you want me to do about that?” you asked seductively.
“Something. Anything.” he pleaded.
Your hand stopped at his hip, and moved to where he needed it most. His head fell back as his eyes fluttered shut .
He let out a groan of satisfactory and you giggled, landing a single peck on his lips. “Perv.”
You got off of him and stood at the side of the bed. His eyes shot open. “Wh-What?”
You laughed at his expression. “Come on, Harry. You know we have to train with Uma first thing in the morning.”
He groaned again, this time more reluctantly. “But I don’t wanna.”
You tugged him up by the arm, only for him to throw himself back on the bed. “You know,” you whispered in his ear. “Good boys always get rewarded.”
His eyes widened and he sat up. “Well then we better get training!”
He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you out the door excitedly.
All throughout the training session, Harry was giving you ‘the look’ and whispering dirty things to you when no one was looking. Until finally, Uma dismissed everyone.
The both of you walked back to his room, and the second the door shut, he grabbed your shoulders and slammed you to the wall.
Summary: Dance Practice for the Yule Ball and Y/n and George are paired up to practice. Just flufffff! Also need to tag @notgreengrass for being the editor over my posts, and helping me with the ending. I have no idea what I would do without you, tysm for making my writing that much better!
Word Count: 1578
Pairings: George Weasley x Reader
The Yule Ball, as McGonagall described it, was a tradition that only happened during the Triwizard Tournament in which boys and girls — third year and up — attend a formal dance. The partying was what George was fine with, but the aspect he was had trouble with was the dance class. Sure, on the outside he joked around about the ordeal with his twin brother, but on the inside, George was terrified. It wasn’t because McGonagall was forcing everyone to learn how to do the Waltz correctly, no. It was because of the person he longed to dance with.
Y/n stood just across the room with all the other girls. It was a sunny day, and so her y/h/c hair looked glossy from the diamond-like reflections of the large window. Her smile was captivating, radiant even, as she laughed at the sight of McGonagall and Ron dancing together. Her hips were swaying ever so slightly to the soft music bouncing off the stone walls of the room.