i did it. i finally got the last two novels so i did it

‘Learning Russian has given me a whole new life’ Mary Hobson: It took me about two years [to read War and Peace]. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. English writer and translator Mary Hobson decided to learn Russian at the age of 56, graduating in her sixties and completing a PhD aged 74. Now fluent in Russian, Hobson has translated “Eugene Onegin” and other poems by Pushkin, “Woe from Wit” by Griboyedov, and has won the Griboyedov Prize and Pushkin Medal for her work. RBTH visited Hobson at home in London to ask about her inspiring experience. 

RBTH: Learning Russian is difficult at any age, and you were 56. How did the idea first come to your mind? 

 Mary Hobson: I was having a foot operation, and I had to stay in bed for two weeks in hospital. My daughter Emma brought me a big fat translation of War and Peace. “Mum, you’ll never get a better chance to read it”, she said. I’d never read Russian literature before. I got absolutely hooked on it, I just got so absorbed! I read like a starving man eats. The paperback didn’t have maps of the battle of Borodino, I was making maps trying to understand what was happening. This was the best novel ever written. Tolstoy creates the whole world, and while you read it, you believe in it. I woke up in the hospital three days after I finished reading and suddenly realized: “I haven’t read it at all. I’ve read a translation. I would have to learn Russian.” 

RBTH: Did you read War and Peace in the original language eventually? 

M.H.: Yes, it was the first thing I read in Russian. I bought a fat Russian dictionary and off I went. It took me about two years. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. I learned such a lot, I still remember where I first found some words. “Between,” for instance. About a third of the way down the page. 

RBTH: Do you remember your first steps in learning Russian? 

 M.H.: I had a plan to study the Russian language in evening classes, but my Russian friend said: “Don’t do that, I’ll teach you.” We sat in the garden and she helped me to remember the Cyrillic script. I was 56 at this time, and I found it very tiring reading in Cyrillic. I couldn’t do it in the evening because I simply wouldn’t be able to sleep. And Russian grammar is fascinating. 

RBTH: You became an undergraduate for the first time in your sixties. How did you feel about studying with young students? 

M.H.: I need to explain first why I didn’t have any career before my fifties. My husband had a very serious illness, a cerebral abscess, and he became so disabled. I was just looking after him. And we had four children. After 28 years I could not do it any longer, I had break downs, depressions. I finally realized I would have to leave. Otherwise I would just go down with him. There was a life out there I hadn’t lived. It was time to go out and to live it. I left him. I’ve been on my own for three years in a limbo of quilt and depression. Then I picked up a phone and rang the number my friend had long since given me, that of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, London University. “Do you accept mature students?” I asked. “Of sixty-two?” They did. When the first day of term arrived, I was absolutely terrified. I went twice around Russel square before daring to go in. The only thing that persuaded me to do it was that I got offered the place and if I didn’t do it, the children would be so ashamed of me. My group mates looked a little bit surprised at first but then we were very quickly writing the same essays, reading the same stuff, having to do the same translations. 

RBTH: You spent 10 months in Moscow as part of your course. How did you feel in Russia? 

 M.H.: I hardly dared open my mouth, because I thought I got it wrong. It lasted about a week like this, hardly daring to speak. Then I thought – I’m here only for 10 months. I shall die if I don’t communicate. I just have to risk it. Then I started bumbling stuff. I said things I didn’t at all mean. I just said anything. The most dangerous thing was to make jokes. People looked at me as I was mad. I hate to say it, but in 1991 the Russian ruble absolutely collapsed and for the first and last time in my life I was a wealthy woman. I bought over 200 books in Russian, 10 “Complete Collected Works” of my favorite 19th-century authors. Then it was a problem how to get them home. Seventy-five of them were brought to London by a visiting group of schoolchildren. They took three books each. 

RBTH: You’re celebrating your 90th birthday in July. What’s the secret of your longevity? 

M.H.: If I had not gone to university, if I had given up and stopped learning Russian, I don’t think I’d have lived this long. It keeps your mind active, it keeps you physically active. It affects everything. Learning Russian has given me a whole new life. A whole circle of friends, a whole new way of living. For me it was the most enormous opening out to a new life.

“Mad Dog and Puppy” English Translation

Here it is. I apologize for the delay, but various circumstances got in the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

From Haikyuu!! Light Novel 6, Chapter “Mad Dog and Puppy” written by Kiyoko Hoshi with illustrations by Haruichi Furudate.

Introductory page 

Attached illustration on page 129:

Mad Dog and Puppy

One fine holiday in fall, there was a man standing in a convenience store nearby Aoba Jousai High School. The guy, wearing a volleyball jersey, walked out as the opening and closing door made an electronic sound. The man’s name is Kyoutani Kentarou, a second-year member in Aoba Jousai High’s volleyball club.

Kyoutani tore the wrapping of the chicken—chicken is his favorite food—that he took out of the convenience store bag before sinking his teeth into it, making an audible noise; this was how he walked toward school. The volleyball club took Mondays off. Practice starts morning today, which is a Sunday.

Kyoutani had not attended the club for quite a while since the middle of his first year due to various circumstances, though he has been recently thrown into the spotlight for coming back after being recalled by Oikawa, the team captain.

At the preliminary round of the Inter-High Miyagi Finals in June, Aoba Jousai suffered defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa Academy, the invincible champions. It was necessary to regroup and reorganize the currently completed team in order to clear themselves of the disgrace come the next Spring High School competition, move on from second place and aim for the Nationals. What they wanted to strengthen in particular was their offense. The fighting strength that served to be the trigger of that was Kyoutani, whom Oikawa jokingly called “Mad Dog.”

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The Reader and the Writer (Part 3)

Originally posted by juptern

Part one here    Part two here

Anon requests: Will you please do part 3 of the reader and the writer

You’re writing is so amazing, it’s what keeps me alive 😂😍 so thank you for doing such an amazing job and I hope you’re having an amazing day 💜 And I was wondering if you consider writing a part 3 of The Reader and The Writer someday? Because I’d love to read more of it 🙈

Please please PLEASE do a Part 3 to the reader and the writer? It’s amazing x

Omg! Part 3 please gor he reader and the writer 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE

PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER

Part 3 of Reader and Writer?? Cause you are too good to us??? Like thank you??? 💞I swoon for your writing 💞

I NEED PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER ASAAAPPPP

The Reader and the Writer (part 2) was amazing and so are all ouf your writings ! I can’t wait for a part 3 !

Will you do a part 3 of the reader and the writer??

I know you just posted but WOW I NEED A PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER GIRL YOU TOO GOOD!!!

OMFG PLEASE PART 3 OF THE READER AND THE WRITER AAAAHHH I’M SO GLAD I REQUESTED IT YAAASSS YOUR WRITING IS PERFECT AND AMAZING I LOVE YOU <3

I!!! AM!!! SHOOK!!!! I NEED PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER WOWOWOWOW ITS AMAZING

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The reader returns, and she offers the writer some explanations that he’s been waiting for

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,041

A/N: It’s here! I am so so so sorry for making you guys wait this long, I had so much going on this week and I had barely any time to write at all. I hope this makes up for it, enjoy!


Jughead didn’t expect for (Y/N) to return to Pop’s; in fact, he thought she’d leave town.  However, the following night he was proven wrong when she walked in and sat across him in their usual booth.

“You’re here,” he stated. (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow.

“You expected otherwise?” she inquired, crossing her arms.

“Well, to be fair, I hadn’t seen you in about a month before yesterday,” Jughead defended himself.  (Y/N) sucked in a breath and went to contradict him, but she realized he was right, so she shut her mouth.  They sat in silence, both of them avoiding eye contact with each other.  Finally, (Y/N) sighed and broke the quiet.

“So I’m guessing you want to talk about it,” she said, not even bothering to pull out a book.  Jughead nodded as he closed his laptop.

“I think I deserve a bit more information than the fact that you were born in Riverdale,” he grumbled.

“You do,” she agreed.

“So why did you think that was important to tell me?” Jughead began the interrogation. “Out of all the things to say to stop me from leaving, why that?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” (Y/N) attempted to joke, but Jughead didn’t even crack a smile.  She sighed and continued.  "I don’t know, because that’s the beginning. I’m a reader, Jug, I like to start at the beginning of a story.“

"And so your beginning started here.”

“Yes.”

“But then you moved somewhere else?” Jughead asked.  (Y/N) nodded.  "Why?“

"Because we had to,” she responded.  "My parents were… unpleasant people, to say the least.  Bad people tend to mingle, and thus my parents met the Blossoms.“  Jughead’s head perked up at the mention of the family.

"The Blossoms?” he echoed.  "As in Jason Blossom?“

"No, the other notorious Blossom family in Riverdale,” she rolled her eyes, sarcasm oozing from every word.  "Yes, Jason Blossom’s family.“  Jughead’s silence signaled for her to continue.  “My family and their family had this long-lasting feud for as long as I can remember.”

“So is that why you left?” he asked.  “Because of the feud?”

“Yes,” she answered tentatively, “and no.  It’s complicated.  You see, I didn’t leave Riverdale with my parents.”  (Y/N) paused for a moment, biting her lip.  “My parents were murdered.”  Jughead’s eyes widened as he realized the severity of her situation.

“The Blossoms did it?” he immediately assumed.  (Y/N) shook her head.

“Not that we know of,” she replied.  “They never figured out who did it.  Yes, the Blossoms were high on the suspect list, but personally, I don’t think it was them.  They’re too snobbish to actually murder someone.”  The pair fell into a silence, Jughead attempting to soak up all the information he was just given.  (Y/N) lazily glanced around the dinner, scanning the strangers’ faces.

“Why’d you come back?” Jughead spoke up.  (Y/N)’s eyes flicked back to his face.

“They were about to sell our old home,” she shrugged.  “My aunt was infuriated, so she packed up all our things and moved here.” Jughead had so many more questions swirling around his mind, but when he observed (Y/N)’s face, he saw how tired and deflated she looked.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “this is too much for you.  I shouldn’t have pressured you to tell me everything at once.”

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, shaking her head.  “I want to tell you, I… you deserve to know.”  Jughead reached across the table, grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, and gazed at her in a manner she couldn’t quite distinguish.  He didn’t say anything, and neither did she.  They just sat there in the booth, on a quiet day in Pop’s, Jughead holding (Y/N)’s hand and she was letting him.  Without speaking, she understood what he was trying to tell her: there was nothing left to say.


For the next two weeks, neither Jughead nor (Y/N) said anything to each other.  They still went to Pop’s every night, and they sat together at the same booth.  But (Y/N) always had a book, and Jughead always had his laptop.  Frequently, when one of them wasn’t looking, the other would glance up and stare for just a moment.

On a slow Tuesday, Veronica entered Pop’s.  She was only there to pick up the food she and her mom had ordered, but she noticed (Y/N) and Jughead sitting together at a booth, and so she sped over there.

“You’re back,” she noted, sitting down next to (Y/N).  She glanced up, putting Frankenstein down, and shot Veronica a timid smile.

“I’ve been back for a few weeks,” she responded.  Veronica furrowed her eyebrows.

“Really?” she questioned, shifting her gaze to Jughead.  He didn’t look up from his computer.  (Y/N) awkwardly nodded, turning back to her novel.  Veronica glanced back and forth between (Y/N) and Jughead, waiting for one of them to say something.  “Do you guys ever talk?”

“It’s not always necessary,” Jughead replied, rolling his eyes.

“Well yeah,” Veronica shrugged, “but you guys are dead silent.  Neither of you have spoken to each other since I got here.”  When neither of them replied to her comment, Veronica understood that she was unwanted and left.

The two sat in silence for another hour before Jughead interrupted it by slamming his laptop shut.

“Okay, I’ve spent two weeks thinking about what to say,” he started, catching (Y/N)’s attention.  She lifted her eyes from her book and stared at Jughead, puzzled.  “But I don’t know.  I don’t know what to say!  How do I respond to the fact that your parents were murdered?”

“You don’t have to sa-”

“Yes I do!” Jughead interjected.  “Because we’re… friends, we’re friends.  And I’m supposed to say something to make you feel better.”  (Y/N) tilted her head sideways as she gazed at Jughead, trying to think of a reply.

“You still have a question,” she finally said, “don’t you?  And you didn’t want to say anything else because you didn’t want to tempt your own curiosity.”

“No,” Jughead shook his head, “no, I-”

“Just ask,” (Y/N) stopped him.  “Just ask me, Jug.”  He inhaled sharply, and examined her face.  There was no doubt, no hesitation; just determination with a hint of anger. Jughead sighed, giving into (Y/N)’s, and his own curiosity’s, demands.

“What’s your real name?”

Part four here

Someone’s YA Dystopian Future novel is going to feature one character being a natural leader and then revealing:

“I was at the Fyre Festival in 2017.”

The whole camp went quiet, with the exception of Daran, who swore softly. Chelsea looked like she was about to cry; Pete laughed softly with disbelief. “You were at the Fyre Festival?”

Craig nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the flames in front of him. “One of the first ones in. One of the last ones out.”

Susan furrowed her brow, trying to piece the words together. Would it be inappropriate to ask him? Was it a religious thing? A massacre?

“What’s a Fire Festival?” The question slipped from her lips before she could help it, and suddenly all eyes were on her–all except Craig’s. The fire still flickered inside them.

“There was just one. The Fyre Festival, with a ‘y’. They thought it was clever.” He sighed, stroked his beard, and shifted a little before continuing. “It was supposed to be a simple weekend in the Bahamas. Me and a bunch of other rich kids packed our clothes, gathered our things, and took a plane down south. Everything was going smoothly…but when we hit the first landing strip, that’s when we started to realize that something had gone awry. Instead of seeing a private beach in front of us, we saw a crowded tourist trap. We were promised private jets, fancy boats, the full VIP experience…” His eyes flicked up to her, and though his mouth curved up in a smile, the eyes did not share in it. “But none of that was anywhere to be seen. We thought it would be fine, all we had to do was get our things, make sure they were together, and they’d lead us to the hotel, but…it was already growing dark, and that’s when the luggage arrived. Unloaded from one of those giant storage containers, the big ones, like you see on the docks. Just tossed out to the crowd, one after another. No conveyer belts, no lockers, no express deliveries to the rooms…and it was when I finally got my bag, with a dented crease along the side, like it had been resting under someone’s golf clubs, that I realized: everything had gone wrong.

“Anyway, I’m standing there with this bag, and it occurs to me how hungry I am, so I start looking for the restaurant. I was young, and foolish…fortunately, Gabe was young and foolish, too, so we both headed off to find the restaurant, thinking it would be there.”

His smile widened, showing those teeth again. “There was no restaurant. They fed us sandwiches–small, flat, flimsy sandwiches, with that bread you see on a gas station shelf, and some meat they said was ham. A single wilted piece of lettuce and a piece of rubbery cheese were the condiments, if you could call them that…Gabe said he saw someone with a ketchup packet. I didn’t believe him. Served in a white styrofoam box.

“Anyway, this would be regal fare to us today, but back then, to us, it might as well have been cow dung. I saw three people vomiting their food right back out; the girl next to me saw the same thing, and she became number four. I don’t know how many of us managed to actually choke our way through the meal, or how many of us actually made it back to go onto the plane, but I do know this: there were two thousand of us left in that village when the last boat left the island. Two thousand of us left to fend for ourselves. 

“When the sun rose the next day, we were one thousand nine hundred and ninety four. Four of us were missing; two were dead. It was then that I realized that this was going to be a live-or-die situation. I chose to live.”


I would continue with this but it is late and I needed sleep an hour ago.

Reluctant Rejection

Summary: Being Sam Winchester’s Omega was wonderful… when he was actually there. Yes, he was kind and loving, but he’d spend weeks away from you, only stopping by when he needed to. Two years of living on the outskirts of Sam’s life is starting to take its toll. 
Pairing
: Alpha!SamxOmega!Reader
Words
: 2927
Warnings
: A/B/O Dynamics. Smut. Angst. Mistrust in a relationship. 
AN: First proper Sammy ABO fic!!! This is also my entry for @ilostmyshoe-79‘s Sweet Emotions Challenge! My emotion was Neglect… hope this fits the bill properly. But I feel like it does!!! 
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!

***

The first thing that alerted you to Sam’s arrival was the tell-tale low grumble of the large, black beauty of the car he owned, which was quickly killed and followed by the slamming of a car door.

An excited grin broke out across your face, the small pains that indicated the very early stages of your heat forgotten. Every instinct in your body telling you to go to your Alpha, every fibre of your being craving to be with him after so long apart; to see him, smell him, touch him… your very soul was calling out for him.

It wasn’t like you’d forgotten all of the doubts that had been plaguing you, haunting your thoughts and hounding your dreams. Those were still very much there; but, at present, they were being entirely overwhelmed by the hormones coursing through your veins. There was only one thing on your mind when your heat started creeping into your system.

Sam didn’t even get the chance to cross the threshold before you leapt at him, arms wrapping around his neck, lips crashing into his in a searing kiss. He dropped his duffel bag on the floor just in time to catch you, one of his large hands gripping your thigh as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist; the other quickly wrapping around your lower back. You heard him moan into your mouth as your fingers wove their way into his long hair.

He chuckled slightly when you finally pulled away from his mouth, but you made no attempt to detach yourself from him in any other way. In fact, you barely moved your head far from his.

“Someone’s keen,” he mused, smirking at you with a light in his eyes that only you could ignite. You matched his grin with one of your own, gently nudging his nose with yours before resting your forehead against his.

A small whine escaped your throat as you felt him slip the hand at your back under the thin shirt you were wearing, and you inhaled deeply, unable to get enough of his warm scent that reminded you of a campfire. “Missed you, Alpha,” you sighed, tugging on his hair slightly and eliciting a small growl from him.

“Missed you too, Omega,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck as he buried his face there, clearly revelling in your scent as much as you were in his.

The two of you remained entwined with one another as Sam carelessly kicked his bag just inside the door before knocking it shut behind him, just enjoying the moment of being close to one another. This wasn’t an uncommon way of spending your first few hours together when he visited, due to the fact that you often spent so long apart. You both just basked in the presence of the other.

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ultimate-drama-queen  asked:

Hi. I love your blog and all the little headcannons (canon?) you do. I also noticed you're amazing for writing little stories for people who are having a tough time. Would it be too much to ask if I could have one? I'm suffering from a bout of depression/insomnia and I'm running on about 4 hours sleep in about 3 days. What do you think of Derek or Stiles getting insomnia from all the stuff they've seen and the other just cuddling them through it? Trying to stay awake so they're not alone?

Hey, sweetheart. The depression/insomnia combo is horrible. I don’t know if it will work for you but earlier this year I stumbled upon ASMR videos. I know some people find them weird but they really helped me when it came to getting to sleep. In the mean time, I hope this little fic does something to help. 

Stiles thought being able to sleep after the Nogitsune had been the universe’s way of balancing out the good and bad in his life: get possessed by a psychotic Japanese fox but sleep like a baby every night after. As it turned out, being able to sleep after a spirit uses your body to murder a bunch of people came down to the fact Stiles hadn’t had a break since finding Laura Hale’s body that night in the woods.   

He believed joining the academy would be a fresh start, and in many ways it was. He just didn’t count on the fact that now he didn’t have pure evil trying to kill him at every waking moment that his brain would finally find time to process it. Stiles had always been a fan of ignoring his problems until they eventually, just, go away; watching his friends die, looking down at his own body and knowing it wasn’t really his but the cardboard cutout left behind by the Nogitsune, the memory of watching Derek almost -

He assumed - stupidly - that he had been successful in that particular endeavour. As long as he had his pillow, he was fine. You’re going to be fine. That was what the faceless people of the internet said. Stiles didn’t think “fine” was ever going to be an option for him but he guessed hope was a nice sentiment. 

“Insomnia,” Scott said, repeating the word back to him. Stiles could practically hear the concern, loud and clear, ringing through the phone. It instantly made him feel worse. Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed a tired hand down his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have called.  

“Yes, insomnia.”

Scott was quiet for several seconds.  “Do you have your pillow?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Stiles answered. He was currently clutching it to his chest, sprawled out on his bedroom floor. It was 3am, the floor was hard, and if he didn’t get some sleep soon he was going to start crying; the kind of crying he hadn’t done since he was a kid and his mom took ill. 

“What about drugs?” Scott suggested. “I could ask my mom-”

“No drugs, Scott.”

“But-”

I said no drugs, Scott.” 

The line went quiet again and Stiles felt his eyes begin to sting. This was a mistake.

“Sorry, man, I have to go.” 

He hung up before Scott could respond, deciding he could feel guilty about it later.

~

At the academy, he was on auto-pilot. Luckily, Stiles had come up with some of his best plans during the last four years on little-to-no sleep, so it wasn’t overly obvious to his fellow agents-in-training that he needed several cups on coffee just to get through the day.

It was obvious to someone though. Someone who clearly thought it was their sworn duty to haul Stiles over their shoulder in the middle of his third run to the coffee shop that day and deposit him in the back of their car. 

Stiles wanted to protest - he should protest, call for help, maybe? - but he had had his eyes closed when the stranger grabbed him, had been drooling on a statue, leaning against it for moral support, as he had waited for his order.

Plus, the stranger’s arms felt nice. 

In the back of his mind, Stiles couldn’t decide if thinking a stranger’s arms felt nice during a potential kidnapping - fuck, please don’t let it be a supernatural kidnapping - was because of his sleep deprived state or if that was just the way he was wired now. 

It was only when a door opened and a familiar pair of eyebrows slid into the driver’s seat did Stiles begin to laugh. Hysterically. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and pressing his lips against the cool leather interior. Familiar hands strapped him into the his seat. “Of course it’s you, big guy.”

Derek just gave a slight huff and muttered something Stiles couldn’t hear, but it sounded an awful lot like, yeah, I missed you, too. 

Stiles laughed again. It was crazy, what your mind came up with when it wasn’t functioning properly. 

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College Tips

From someone who was in your position last year.

For academics

  • Morning classes? Maybe. Take it from someone who had to wake up for a 7:45AM class for two out of the three terms of my first year; they were the worst parts of my day and incredibly stressful because I would end up sleeping through them when I was particularly sleep-deprived. However, they were nice in that they kind of made me a little more self-disciplined; I had to finish my work by midnight cause I would be dead the next morning if I wasn’t. If you’re a night owl, try to schedule classes post 9AM; your life will just be a lot less miserable. 
  • Make sure you have a break for lunch. I usually try to have an hour of downtime between classes early afternoon, so that I can fit in the gym and lunch. My reasoning is that you’re probably not going to be very productive during that hour unless you have immediate work due the next period, so just use it to take care of yourself. Eat, exercise, and take a moment to breathe between lectures.
  • Don’t do all the readings. This sounds bad, but I have taken (so many) reading intensive courses where I would have 200 pages due the next day. This is impossible to do if I want to be a healthy human being. A lot of the times, professors will have a main idea they want you to take away from a reading and will just add a lot of supplemental material. If your reading material is particularly dry, it’s going to be the worst and most time-consuming struggle to get through because your eyes will glaze over and you’ll find yourself rereading the same sentence over and over to fully comprehend what it means. Instead of doing that, first grasp what the main idea is by reading the headers, find the key details associated with the idea that links it to other main topics of the course, and store a few examples of what’s been mentioned. All of this can be done by a mixture of skimming and looking at chapter summaries and specifically reading a few paragraphs.
  • Use SparkNotes. Use CliffNotes. Watch the movie version, the miniseries, whatever it is. Use Khan Academy, Crash Course, WHATEVER. You might be thinking, “This is college! There’s no way for easy cop-outs!” And yes, you’re partially right. If you’re in a literature course, you should absolutely read the material you’re given; however, sometimes, it’s not possible or even necessary to read everything. I had a class that consisted of three papers, to be written on three different novels - two of the papers were assigned to specific books, but the last one was a free-for-all. There were eight novels total that we had to get through. It just wasn’t smart to sit there and read all eight novels with equal intensity. Yes, read all eight if you can, but if you need to supplement your reading with SparkNotes or the movie version or whatever, do it. 
  • Participate in discussion. How much you talk matters in college. If you’re a shy wallflower, talk to your professor about your inability to speak up in class, because if you sit there and let other students reign over the discussion, that’s your participation grade going down the drain. I learned this the hard way in my first two classes - my final grades were significantly lower because I just couldn’t speak up in class. Professors are usually nice and can understand when you’re introverted, but becoming part of the discussion isn’t just good for your grade; you’ll be able to contribute your perspective to a dialogue about a subject that you’re most likely interested it. Isn’t that what college is all about?
  • Preview + review. In specific regard to classes, use the readings + assignments to predict what the professor will lecture on for the next class. Obviously, just doing the work will help you preview; however, keeping conscious note of what you’re doing will help you identify questions and topics of interest that you can talk about during the actual class. This all ties into the previous three points of reading smart and participating. After the lecture, try to resist the temptation to just relax your brain completely and do something else. Stay in the “lecture” mode for a few more minutes and go over what you just did in class. This will cement the information and help you SO MUCH when it comes time to cram for midterms and finals. 
  • You’ve probably heard it a thousand times, but GO TO OFFICE HOURS. Professors love it when you come talk to them; they get to know your name and put a face to your tests and assignments and also talk your ear off about the subject they love. Of course, don’t just force yourself to go there and stand awkwardly in the doorway without a question just because you heard you need to. Times you should go: first week of class, when you can drop by and casually say, “I just wanted to introduce myself!” Most likely, the professor will want to chat with your about what your expectations are for the course and what you want to do with your life. And then you should go whenever you have an issue with your homework. Go before midterms and finals with all of the questions that pile up while you cram. Score brownie points and get better help on something you might be confused about. Win-win. 
  • There’s probably going to be an interlude of time between classes and your extracurricular meetings + dinner. USE THAT TIME TO FINISH WORK. A lot of stuff happens in the evenings that make you tired and ready to curl up in bed after you come back to your dorm/home. If you buckle down and concentrate during those few hours before meetings and dinner, you will feel sooooo much better for the rest of your day. 
  • Go to class. This should be self-explanatory. But seriously, go. Do you find the class useless? Still go. The professor will remember you, even if it’s a 150-person class.
  • Take good notes during class. Also self-explanatory. If you find that your notes don’t feel sufficient because your professor is the type of person to go all over the place in their lecture and you zone out, compare notes with someone in the class. Compare notes with multiple people in the class. Record the lecture if you have to (but ask the professor beforehand! Because intellectual property rights exist and that’s actually really important!!!!). Make study groups where you compare notes and listen to recorded lectures together. Do what you have to to make sure you got the most out of the actual class sessions - and then supplement it with your readings and outside research. I know a lot of people say that writing things down with a pen and paper help retain information more than typing things down - but honestly, this is just a personal preference. If you prefer typing things down, go ahead. If you prefer handwriting, go ahead. However, if you do decide to use a computer, please make sure you aren’t surfing the web when you should be paying attention. I know I’m guilty. 
  • Sit in the T-Zone. This zone is basically the first row and the aisle seats. The professor looks at this area the most during lectures, and this is where he’ll see you the most. Even if you don’t like sitting in the first row, grab an aisle seat so the professor can see that you’re actually engaged in the class. Also, you’ll fall asleep less if the professor sees you. 

For extracurriculars

  • Don’t do everything. It’ll feel like everyone is doing everything and you should be doing more, but that’s really not the case. It’s a given that this isn’t high school, so no one expects you to have five clubs and two sports on your application - and also, this doesn’t actually help you on your resume unless you come away from the activity with a skill that makes you more valuable as an employee/human being. Stick to things that you actually really like and feel that you can grow in - and then really stick to it, so you can say you actually did things instead of being a half-hearted member. 
  • Try to assess what you can take away from an activity if you do end up joining. Have specific ideas about your role in the club/extracurricular and what you’re contributing and taking away, mainly because you’ll be expected to talk about this in the future if you have it in your resume. 
  • Get started on applications early. Surprise surprise, applications do not end with college apps - that’s only the beginning. You have to apply to literally everything in college, from clubs to internships to study abroad programs. What I like to do with a lot of my applications is have specific answers ready; a lot of applications will ask similarly generic questions about your abilities and goals. Considering you’re in college, I’m also going to take for granted that a lot of the activities you’re applying for have a similar theme, so that should make the job easier. Save your answers so you can use them the next time you have to fill out an application; all you have to do then is restructure them a little so that they fit with the specific question being asked. 
  • Before submitting an application, go and talk to a person face to face about it. You’re naturally going to have questions about a program if you’ve decided to apply to it. Instead of just stewing over them alone and then submitting an application, go see the person in charge. This helps SO MUCH in the long run, because they’ll have a face in their mind when they finally read your application. Most likely, the meeting you have with them will include not just your questions, but also facts about yourself that they’ll ask naturally. This helps. This helps you get in, this helps them stay impressed. 
  • Make a resume. Do you have a LinkedIn? Go make one - and go make an actual resume. Resumes are kind of a pain in the ass, but they’re completely necessary and will be useful for you if you want to keep track of all the stuff you do over the years. There are so many resources for you to make resumes on the internet AND most likely at your school. Find the Career Services at your school; they can offer comments on your resume and will provide actual, personal help. 
  • KEEP UP WITH EMAILS. This is so important because adults get SO annoyed with non-responsive college students. Emails are weird because they’re simultaneously really easy to do (just type out a few short polite sentences!) and also really hard because of the implications behind them. However, adults send a million a day, so your email probably doesn’t have the same gravity to the head honcho/mentor/adult you are emailing as it does for you. Don’t stress too much about it, and just send. Nothing gets down if you don’t email first, and nothing gets done if you don’t respond. Adults are especially impressed if you’re a fast responder - again, this helps with brownie points. 
  • Get friendly with the adults. Please, for the love of God, interact with adults who are mentoring your club, your boss at work, or wherever else they might be. They are not there to judge you, you are still in an institution of learning where your capability is still seen as relatively low and nothing more is expected of you. That means adults aren’t going to expect you to be amazing and talented, which means you can literally just show up and open your mouth, and that’ll be enough to impress them. So DO THAT. Talk to adults, smile and say hello when you see them, get them interested in you and who you are. These people have these jobs for a reason - don’t just be another anonymous face that passes by. It helps so much when adults have a good impression of you.
The Only Exception (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes

A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.

And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Originally posted by 8bit-arc-reactor

Keep reading

The Bookstore

Hey guys! It’s me again, and I sorta wanted to write a Tom meet-cute because I daydream about those 25/8? This is just soft, fluffy and sweet, I hope you like it!
Author’s note: Tom is my screensaver and I went to Barnes and Noble today and the girl that was ringing me up was really, really nice and we were talking about Marvel because I was buying a comic, (I finally found Spider-Man Blue, three cheers for me!) and she was literally like, “oh my gosh, you and Tom would be super adorable together! I can just see it now!” And I sort of died? So this is just a story branching off of that?
The Bookstore
“Is that your boyfriend?” The saleslady asked, referencing the girl’s phone, as a smile that stretched from ear to ear crossed over her features. “He comes in quite often, has mostly good taste in books, although, sometimes his choices are questionable at best. Likes fantasy and adventure, some good, some not.”
The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth flopped open and shut like a guppy’s as she attempted to stutter out an appropriate response.
Tom Holland was the girl’s screensaver, and no, he most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend because he had no idea that she existed. Even if he had stumbled across her fan account, she’d just be another fan to Tom, maybe she’d even stand out for being an ultimate creep.
“He’s a very polite boy, you’re so lucky! My daughters are only interested in self-obsessed assholes.” The lady began to scan her choices, continuing to rant about her daughter’s apparent bad taste in men.
The girl was still struggling to comprehend her situation. The saleswoman clearly knew Tom, who apparently came in often, as did she, so she couldn’t really say that he wasn’t her boyfriend without looking like an utter and complete weirdo.
Pondering, she bit the inside of her cheek. Their paths had never crosses, so what could be the harm in indulging in a little fantasy? “We’ve been dating since last Spring,” She said, not daring to look into the kind eyes of the saleswoman.
“Ah, I see. I bet you two look absolutely adorable together, maybe turn him onto some high quality literature next time he comes in, eh?” The woman smiled from across the counter, waving the girl’s new Philip Roth books in the air before handing them over.
Reaching for her five purchases, the girl smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my very best!” She called and waved as she left the store.
Over the next few days, Tom wandered back into the bookstore. Navigating his way down the store’s narrow aisles, Tom searched for something that he could read on the plane that he’d inevitably be boarding sometime soon. He paused every so often to pick up a book, glance over the summary on the back, and reshelve it to it’s proper home.
After shuffling down another section, he came across the very same saleswoman who had helped the girl moonlighting as his girlfriend.
“How come you guys never come in together? She knows some good authors, I’m sure she’d love to help broaden your horizons.” The saleswoman said, maintaining her position, crouched over to straighten and tidy the shelves.
Tom looked around, unsure of who the woman was speaking to, because as far as he knew, none of his friends knew about this store. They opted for Barnes and Noble, while he prefered to dig.
“Yes, you. I just met your girlfriend and she’s lovely. Great taste in books.” The woman said again.
Scratching his head, Tom wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he played along, not wanting to be rude. Surely she must be confusing him with someone else, because he didn’t have a girlfriend to share books with, as much as he’d like one.
“Yeah, we just have different schedules, she’s usually in class when I peruse the bookstore.” Tom said, bending down to help the woman on the floor.
“She’s very cute, and very sweet. It’s nice to see young people reading something that isn’t their twitter feed.” The woman said, taking one last glance at the fixed up shelf, before nodding decisively and standing up.
Tom stood as well, chuckling, “My Dad’s an author, so reading has always been apart of my life.”
“You guys are lovely, let me know if I can be of any help.” The woman began to walk away and Tom shook his head and laughed.
“How do you know that my girl is my girl? We never come in at the same time.” Tom asked suddenly, curiosity leaking into his bloodstream.
“She comes in more often than you, buys more books than you, and you’re her screensaver. It’s quite cute, actually.” The saleslady called out.
There it is, Tom thought, she might be a fan. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be her screensaver. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tom smirked and picked out not one, but two books. One to leave at the register for her the next time that he came in, and one for him to read while he was on the press tour.
“That is so thoughtful! She’ll love it!” The woman said from behind the cash register, clapping her hands together. “I’ll make sure that she gets it, alright? Wanna put a little message in it, promise I won’t peak! I’ve got a pen right here!” She chirped happily.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll actually do that. Could I please borrow your pen?” Tom asked.
Drawing a heart to conclude the note to his ‘girlfriend’ that he’d never met, he said thank you one to the lady one last time and left the store.
The very next morning, the girl pushed her wallet back into her purse at the bookstore’s register, waiting for the same saleswoman to finish ringing her up.
“Saw your boyfriend yesterday, left a little something for you.” The saleswoman smiled, turning around to sift through the books on display behind her to find Tom’s choice for the girl.
The girl felt the fiery licks of scarlet coloring her skin again. Her hands shook, surely Tom thought that she was a mega, ultra stalker. He’d probably left her a note begging her to kindly fuck off. She wished Mother Earth would swallow her up the same way it did to Sita in ‘The Ramayana.’
“Don’t be embarrassed, silly, it’s endearing.” The woman handed her a book titled, ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’ by Pablo Neruda. “He’s paid for it, of course, and he left you a little note on the first page. Lent him the pen myself.”
“He really shouldn’t have,” the girl stuttered, her hands almost noticeably shaking as she held the book within her palms.
Inside, Tom had scribbled out,
Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, I thought it was only fitting to leave you at least twenty love poems. Left you a song of despair as well, seeing as we haven’t met yet.
Love always,
Your devoted boyfriend, Tom

“Could I go back and pick one out for him as well?” The girl asked, feeling a tiny bit braver after reading Tom’s cheeky message for her.
“Of course! I love this, I wish more couples did things like this for each other, it’s endearing!” The saleswoman smiled, shutting the register.
After picking out an appropriate novel, she left the store, smiling, blushing and practically gliding on air.
Later that very afternoon, Tom was chased by the overbearing coldness of the afternoon breeze, and his own excitement over whether or not she’d received his present, back into the bookstore.
Not even bothering to look at anything, he came to a halt in front of the saleswoman, who upon seeing him enter, tore through her display to retrieve the novel that she’d left for him.
“Did she get it? Did she like it, I haven’t heard from her yet.” Tom asked, beaming at the woman.
“She loved it! She loved it so much, in fact, that she’s left one for you as well.” She handed him a novel called ‘One Day.’ “She’s left a love note for you as well!”
Tearing the book open, Tom came across her delicate handwriting sprawled in black ink.
Here’s to hoping that I meet you one day.
With all the love in my heart-
Your mystery girlfriend
Fighting the urge to hug the book closer to his chest, Tom made a choice.
“I’m going to go pick her a book out right now, and I’m going to wait right here until she comes back in. I want to give her this one in person.” Tom turned on his heel to search for the perfect book for to give her, when the saleswoman informed him that she’d already been in today.
“Alright then, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Tom blushed, but continued on his way down through the shelves, desperate to find the perfect book for her.
Deciding on ‘You,’ by Caroline Kepnes, Tom paid and left the store, planning to return right when the bookstore opened.
The very next morning, Tom was perched in a cushy, plush chair, obscured by stacks and shelves housing novels, waiting for her. He’d positioned himself perfectly, ensuring that he could see the register at all times, but that the people at the register wouldn’t be able to spot him, unless they knew where he was hiding.
He was completely on edge. Every time the door opened, he’d practically leap to his feet, only to be met with disappointment because mostly everyone who wandered in off the street was either male, or too old to be his mystery girlfriend.
Finally, when Tom had all but lost hope, a girl so otherworldly beautiful that Tom truly debated in his mind whether or not the girl was even a girl, he briefly wondered if she was an ethereal fairy of sorts, floated into the room.
Her hair reflected light the same way that waves in the sea did, and her voice was so soft and warm that it sounded as he imagined his favorite hot drink would taste. She waved hello to the saleswoman before diving into the poetry section, hidden deep within the store.
Jumping to his feet, Tom rushed to finally meet her, rolling the book he planned to give her in between his palms.
Checking his hair one more time, Tom came to a stop next to her.
“Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you happen to be my mystery girlfriend, who apparently has better taste in books than me?” Tom’s confidence was evaporating as she turned around to face him.
She was even prettier up close and Tom wanted to scratch his own eyes out for beginning the conversation with such a shit line.
Thankfully, she smiled, a strawberry jam colored blush widening across her delicate features. “That would be me, but unfortunately, you’ve caught me off guard and now I don’t have anything to give to you.” Her eyes refused to meet his own for more than a few seconds.
She could barely believe any of this. First, her celebrity crush and her happened to both shop at the same bookstore. Then, he goes along with the charade of being her boyfriend, and even leaves her gifts, and now, he was standing in front of her.
He looked like Prince Charming and her brain was turning to mush.
“Lucky for you, I don’t mind. But, I do have a book for you.” Holding the novel, ‘You,’ out to her, he began to sway from foot to foot, nervous that she’d hate it.
“Funny enough, that’s one of my favorite books,” She laughed, “But are you planning to kill me?” She referenced the plot of ‘You,’ which was more or less a horror story, hardly the conventional romance.
Stuttering, Tom attempted to clear his name. “I just thought it was fitting, seeing as we met in a bookstore, and so did Joe and Beck,” the main characters who become romantically involved in the novel, “And really, I just wanted you to have the line about the mouse in the house.”
“Are you going to get a cat to chase me out?” She teased, and Tom laughed.
“Absolutely not, you’re just all I’ve been thinking about. I wanna know you, and learn from your apparently epic choices in literature.” Tom said, leaning in closer to her.
“Than sit, and I’ll pick you something out?” She questioned, shyly moving to sit on the floor, her arm curled around more than a few options.
The pair scooched into one another one the floor, and the saleswoman watched, smiling from her spot at the register. Her two favorite customers were finally together.
Her eyes twinkled as she turned the radio onto a station that played only love songs.
They read love poems, and love stories together, so it only seemed fair that they listened to only love songs as well.

Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 


Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”

Secrets - Jughead x Reader Imagine

anonymous asked:

Can you do an imagine where Jughead loses his laptop and the reader and him split up to find it the reader finds it and finds out he’s been writing about the reader

Originally posted by juptern

I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

word count: 827

The school bell rung at the end of the lesson signalling the long awaited home-time for the students of Riverdale High. Your best friend - and partner in crime, Jughead Jones, was particularly eager to get out of school today so he could work on his novel, which by the way, was highly classified. Nobody, not even you were allowed to peak. 


The two of you walked out of class together as always to head over to Pop’s Diner where he would type away endlessly and you’d occupy yourself with Homework or reading a book - secretly admiring the way Jughead’s concentrating face looked when every so often his brows would furrow in the cutest way when he got stuck. Yes, you were crushing on your best friend. You have been for a while, but you try to ignore it since you know Jughead wouldn’t feel the same.


“(Y/N)!” You were pulled from thought as you walked along side Jughead down the school hallway. “Hmm?” you turned to face your friend as he stopped dead in his tracks, searching through his backpack frantically. “My laptop! It’s gone!” he panicked. “What? Where did you last leave it?” you ask concerned. He looked at you as if he were about to say something snarky but decided against it. “It should be in here! I never leave it anywhere, it’s with me at all times.” Jughead was looking extremely worried now. “What if it’s been stolen? All my work is gone! wha-” You cut him off; “JUG! We’ll find it, okay? I’m sure you just left it lying around somewhere. We’ll split up and look for it. You check your place and Pop’s, and I’ll search the school.” Jughead glanced at me and paused for a second, worry etched on his face. “uhh.. Okay. Yeah, just.. Call me right away if you find it, yeah?” You simply nodded. “Thanks.” He said, and with that the two of you parted.


The first place you thought to check was the school paper room, where you know Jughead has been helping Betty out lately, and not to your surprise, Jughead’s laptop was safely sitting on the desk he’s been working on. You got out your phone to call Jughead but halted when you saw a familiar picture peeking from the half-open screen. It was a picture of you and Jughead when you were little, You both sat hugging each other and grinning widely in Jughead’s tree house. A small smile crept to your lips at the memory, curiosity got the better of you. Was this Jughead’s murder novel? Why was this picture in it? You couldn’t help but to peak. Filled with confusion and guilt, you slowly lift the screen up and scan your eyes across the page. Your heart drops and you feel a tight sensation in your stomach. This looks like some kind of love poem.


A tear escapes your eyes as you read it. Jughead has really put so much emotion into this. You had no idea your best friend felt this way. There was so much passion you didn’t even know Jughead had. He describes the way that he’s addicted to the way he feels when he thinks of you, The feeling of adoration every time he looks into your eyes and the world just stops. “(Y/N!?)” You jump back so fast that you almost fall over. Jughead had remembered where he left the laptop and came as quickly as he could. He stood at the door frame watching you. “What did I ask you about not reading what was on there!?” He snapped. “I’m so sorry Jug, I really am. I just saw that picture and I couldn’t help it. I shouldn’t have. I’m such a terrible human being!” You rushed your words out, distraught. You felt utterly terrible.


You didn’t realise until Jughead ran over and engulfed you in a tight hug that you were crying. Tears streamed down your face, whether it was from the poem or your guilt you couldn’t tell. “Hey, it’s ok.” Jughead shushed you. “It was a stupid mistake. I don’t know how I managed to leave that page open for you to see.” You both pulled back and Jughead went bright red, the realisation that he’s been busted finally hitting him. “uhh.. About that..” He trailed off, rubbing his hand behind his neck awkwardly. You reached up and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed back with almost desperation, a fire in the pit of your stomachs. The kiss died down into a more slow and passionate one until you pulled apart and stared into each others eyes. Jughead’s smile reached his ears. “The poem was beautiful, Jug.” You simply stated and he replied sarcastically of course; “Oh that thing? that was just about Pop’s.” You let out a laugh and lightly smacked his arm. “speaking of Pop’s..” He started, “I’m hungry.” He said “Let’s go eat then, Pendleton” You teased.

whatrparks  asked:

Heyyy! Love your blog, I've read possibly every fic under the "accidental relationship" and "pining" tags and was wondering if you could update one of them? much love to you people

I did the pining update yesterday and here’s the accidental relationship one. - Anastasia

Originally posted by edigarledezma

Diamond Side Down by hazelandglasz

(1/1 I 659 I Not Rated I Allydia)

Prompt 24- Accidental marriage

put a ring on it. by doctorkaitlyn

(1/1 I 1,120 I General I Sterek)

Stiles wakes up with a mouthful of dirt.

Werewolves + Alcohol = Married? by audrey1nd, RsCreighton

(1/1 I 1,260 I Teen I Stiles/Isaac)

What do you do when you wake up in bed next to your least favorite wolf and find that you got married the night before at your best friend’s bachelor party?

On the Other Shore by Strangeredlantern, Vague_Shadows

(1/? I 1,765 I General I Isaac/Stiles)

Stiles and Isaac have started building a life together with Eloise, but they still have a lot to work through.  

That’s What I Get For Waking Up In Vegas by dontletyourheartdistractyou

(1/1 I 2,821 I Mature I Erica/Malia/Allison/Lydia)

“This is so much like the Katy Perry song,” she groaned, throwing a hand over her forehead.

“Really?” Derek asked. “I was thinking of the Ashton Kutcher movie.”

(In which Erica Reyes accidentally marries four people while vacationing in 9Vegas.)

Turn a Little Faster by skoosiepants

(1/1 I 3,207 I Teen I Sterek)

He shifts back and forth on his feet and tries to psych himself up. He can do this. He’s a badass werewolf, he can totally tell Stiles that they accidentally got werewolf married because—because Stiles was thinking about him, and happened to give him a token of his, uh, affection under the silvery light of the last full moon. Platonic affection, Derek thinks sourly, so he doesn’t get why his wolf feels all warm and fuzzy and bonded all of a sudden.

Honestly, it’s like—why aren’t people accidentally getting werewolf married all the time, if it happens this easily?

Bacon Is The Answer To All Life’s Problems by eeyore9990

(1/1 I 3,322 I Teen I Sterek)

After the election results come in, Stiles uses his long weekend to go visit Derek in Nevada because running away from all of life’s problems sounds like the best of all possible choices. Shenanigans ensue.

Sealed with a Kiss by Inell

(1/1 I 3,628 I Explicit I Stackson)

The fairies seem to like to Stiles, and, unfortunately, the only other person they’ll even let around him is Jackson Whittemore, who he totally doesn’t have feelings for at all. Nope. Not at all.

And Also, I Love You by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 7,155 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek didn’t look at all like Stiles expected. After all, he deliberately chose a school where being a nerd was cool, so he certainly wasn’t expecting his hotter-than-a-thousand-stars roomie to be an actual cool person. Derek has muscles, like everywhere, which he has a tendency to display in skin-tight, sleeveless t-shirts for bands Stiles has never heard of; his jeans are always tight and ripped too, and he has an impressive five-o’clock shadow, the tips of his jet-black hair dyed purple. And his eyes. Stiles is pretty sure he’s only seen eyes like that in comics, or on a movie screen, or in his freakin dreams. They’re somehow simultaneously all of the colors and none of them, transcending something so pedestrian and insignificant as words to encapsulate their beauty. Stiles would come to learn that he’s also wickedly smart, and he plays the guitar and speaks multiple languages, and his sunshine smile is even more alarming that his resting murder face.

The Valentines Thing and Other Fiascoes by Pandaabeer

(6/7 I 8,705 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek has recently succeeded in a lot of things. He has a job, he has a place with electricity and heck he even has netflix. What he has never succeeded at and probably never will is relationships. He’s a sad sack when it comes to love. This Valentines is nothing new.

Or

The sequel to Valentines Strike no one wanted.

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

(5/5 I 9,383 I General I Steter)

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

Best Men by zcinmalik

(1/1 I 11,422 I Mature I Boyd/Scott)

Boyd, in a moment of startling clarity, finally feels the unnatural weight of the gold band adorning his ring finger.

To Form a More Perfect Union by WritersAreLiars

(3/? I 11,503 I Mature I Deucalion/Stiles)

Stiles never expected that helping an injured dog would result in him living out the plot of one of his novels. Now he’s accidentally married himself to the alpha of the esteemed Blackwood pack and hoping that Deucalion isn’t too good to be real.

The Hangover by van_helsa124

(13/13 I 15,826 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and the pack visit Vegas to blow off some steam, only to wake up with no memory of the night before. After interrogating Peter for information they quickly realise that: Boyd is missing, a rival pack has declared a blood feud, hunters are on their trail …and, oh yeah, Derek and Stiles are married.

Steel Blue: A Fractured Fairy Tale by FiccinDylan

(15/15 I 29,251 I Explicit I Sterek)

The real reason Stiles and Derek stopped sleeping with each other was because Stiles was the first to break the feelings dam. For Derek, love and sex were placed in two separate compartments, but for Stiles, love was 9chocolate and sex was peanut butter, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were always his favorite candy.

He knew he’d fall head over heels in love with the wolf and he did. And he didn’t know if he could handle Derek not feeling the same way. So instead he agreed with Derek to remove chocolate, and add in the jelly of sarcasm and ribbing banter and jerking off alone.

It sucked.

But Stiles respected Derek and valued his friendship over everything else., he’d do anything for the wolf.

Oh, and he also just found out that he might have a twin brother that’s a porn star for Neckz&Throatz, but oddly… that’s the sidebar in this tale.

Fools Rush In by origamifrogs

(3/3 I 30,673 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Stiles wakes up in his hotel bed in Las Vegas, sticky eyes blinking open to the sight of a stranger sleeping beside him.

A stranger who is male.

And naked.

Stiles promptly falls out of bed.”

Or, the one where Stiles and Derek get drunk in Las Vegas, accidentally get married, go on a road trip, and find love along the way.

UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo

(20/20 I 54,259 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

We Prefer Good Love to Gold by i_am_girlfriday

(9/9 I 63,371 I Explicit I Sterek)

This week on Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition - Derek Hale, a thirty-year-old millionaire venture capitalist and beta werewolf, finally gives into his sisters’ pressures to start dating again and reluctantly agrees to use the services of a supernatural matchmaker. Stiles Stilinski, at age twenty-five, just sold his start-up to Google for undisclosed millions, and ends up on a reality dating show when his true alpha best friend tries to help him get over his broken heart.

***

The last thing anyone expects is for the two eligible bachelors to fall in love with each other behind the scenes.

The Purloined Letter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

(34/34 I 83,123 I Explicit I Sterek)

Kate Argent learns that Peter Hale has a letter, the contents of which, if known, would ruin her, and decides the best place to find it would be the hunting party arranged for the Whittemore-Martin engagement celebrations, but there are some issues with her plan, Peter has brought his nephew, the house is full of omega meaning everyone is watching everyone else, Lydia is not as happy with the engagement as her mother casting her eyes on someone else, her niece, who she’s meant to be chaperoning has eyes for a penniless Scottish Lord, and she’s not even sure that Peter brought the letter with him.

3

****

“What the hell?!” Jughead jolted upright from his position on the blow up mattress, dangerously close to the ground. Archie followed quickly, falling out of his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

“It’s my phone! It’s just my phone!” He shouted more to himself than to Jughead, they had both been woken up abruptly by the obnoxious ringtone coming from Archie’s speakers. “We connected my phone to my Bluetooth speakers last night, I must have forgotten to turn it off!”

Jughead put his hands to his ears as Archie fumbled with his phone, he was still half asleep and in his daze he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.
“It’s just Betty, we were supposed to meet up this morning to pick up Veronica’s birthday present from the jewelers, I totally forgot! Will you turn this damn thing off!” He chucked his phone at Jughead, who caught it with surprising ease.

Rubbing his eyes, Jughead looked down at the phone, instantly stopping dead in his tracks. There on Archie’s iPhone screen was the most beautiful picture of Betty he had ever seen. She was in a simple tank top, her long blonde hair down and straight looking like it was made of pure silk, and the lightest red lipstick, the most amazing thing about the photo was that it seemed to capture her eyes shifting from green to blue, a sign that she was content and relaxed. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Dude what the hell? Is it broken? Why won’t it turn off, just answer it!” Archie moaned, throwing himself back onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow. Jughead cleared his throat as he tore his eyes away from the screen and pressed accept.

“Hello?”

“Good morning! Geez, it took you quite some time to answer the phone. Wait? Is this Jughead? I recognize that voice anywhere.” She giggled into the speaker and he instantly felt his shoulders relax and any tension leave his body.

“You caught me, it’s just your friendly homeless teen, Archie said he’ll be there soon, he overslept. After you and Archie finish up, wanna grab a burger with the gang? My treat.” Jughead could practically feel her nodding excitedly , she wrapped up the conversation with a quick
“See you later Juggie.”

Closing the call Jughead stared at the picture Archie had assigned to her contact. He couldn’t get over this picture.
“When did you take this?” He asked the red headed boy.

“What?” Archie asked looking up from his pillow.

“This picture. When did you take this picture of Betty?” Jughead asked handing Archie his phone.

Archie stared at the screen for a second and smiled with a shrug

“I don’t know, last year maybe, I’ve really gotta update it, don’t let Betty know I have that one of her, she’d kill me. You should see the one Veronica has of Betty” Archie whistled lowly “smoking” he grinned at the beanie wearing boy and nudged him, Archie was the only one Jughead had told about his fairly deep crush on the beautiful blonde next door, at first it had been awkward but slowly Archie realized he just wanted his two best friends to be happy.

“Veronica has one too?” Jughead asked incredulously, how did he not know about this?

“Sure thing.” Archie threw on his letterman jacket and waved at Jughead promising to be home for Burgers at Pops. Walking over to the window he looked down and saw Archie running over to Betty and scooping her up in a hug as she shoved him away and flipped her ponytail.

What he’d give to be able to just hug her whenever he felt like it, he wanted to have pictures of her on his phone. He wanted to be the one she called up at eight in the morning. He knew Archie and Betty were just friends, both of them having clarified this to the group multiple times, but it didn’t ease the ache he felt when he saw her name pop up on Archie’s phone. Damnit, now he had no choice but to see Veronica’s picture of Betty .

The day passed slowly as Jughead worked on his novel and raided Fred Andrews snack cabinet, before he knew it Archie was calling for him from down the stairs.

“Come on Bro, burgers await. Betty’s already there with Veronica!”

Jughead nearly tripped down the stairs,
burgers and Betty?
Total package.

Walking through the clear glass doors of Pops, he instantly spotted the honey blonde ponytail, it was almost like a halo calling him over. He slid into the booth right beside Betty as Archie plopped down beside Veronica.

“Hey.” She smiled softly at Jughead, he smiled back before asking

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Betty seemed taken aback for a minute but quickly recovered with a giggle

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking” she pulled out her phone and placed it in his open palm.

“Thanks” he smiled goofily turning to Veronica.

“Can I borrow your phone?” He asked, the same smile gracing his face

“Hey!” Betty started as Veronica hesitantly handed him her phone

“You are so weird” Veronica rolled her eyes with a smirk.

He quickly used Betty’s phone to dial Veronica, staring at the screen as a glowing image of Betty popped up.

“Oh god, that picture.” He heard her mumble from his right.

The picture was absolute sin, Betty’s tan skin glowing and her blonde hair left loose and wavy.
He had never seen “bed eyes” before but he knew now he would never be able to look into Betty’s bright green ones the same again, they were so sensual and seductive staring into the camera as she pouted, don’t even get him started on that Shirt. He wanted this picture and he wanted it now.

“Veronica took that at a sleepover, I was just being silly. I’ve asked her to change it over and over again.” Betty rolled her eyes, snatching her phone away.

Jughead had to stop himself from physically moaning as the picture disappeared from the screen.

“What’s up with your infatuation with phone pictures?” Betty asked questioningly.

Jughead looked up at her and shrugged
“I don’t have one of you, I’ve never even seen a picture of you, other than your school pictures.”

Betty smiled scrolling through her phone before handing it to him

“That’s you.” She giggled pointing to Jugheads name and the picture beside it. It was one she had taken a few months ago when they went to visit the national history museum, Jughead was beanieless and staring right into the camera, his hair messy and his eyes relaxed, if you looked close enough you could see the hint of a smile popping through
“It’s my favorite picture.” She whispered, close to his ear.

Jughead turned away from the phone and swallowed hard
“I still don’t have one of you.” He mumbled out, reaching to take her hand underneath the table.

Betty smiled softly, her eyes sparkling
“Well that just won’t do.”

And so two weeks later after Jughead had finally gained enough courage to ask the love of his life out on an actual date, Betty’s picture appeared on the screen of his phone on a Saturday morning at 8 o clock. It was a picture of the two of them actually, faces smooshed together in a goofy looking kiss. And when Betty got angry at him for never answering his phone his answer was always the same

“Sorry, I just get distracted.”

Meet the family

Inspired by this post by @pottercrew (hope you don’t mind)


“You know it’s going to be a bit more crowded then when I met your friends right?” Draco nervously pulled on the sleeves of his cardigan. He doubted Harry had believed him when he said he lived together with all of his friends and he wouldn’t want him turning tails at the sight of so many snakes. Merlin knew how terrifying they could be.

“More crowded than at the Burrow? Did you invite half your house over for dinner or something?” Harry turned around and Draco quickly stopped fiddling, putting on the mask of calmth that his pureblood upbringing had left him.

“No. Like I said I live with them. We have dinner together every day if we want to.” Harry snickered and mumbled something that sounded like yeah sure you do. Draco’s stomach did a backflip and he almost didn’t kiss Harry back when the man stepped in closer and captured his lips.

“I’ll be fine darling don’t worry. Only two days ago I gave a speech in front of thousands of people, I’m sure I can handle a bunch of adolescents.” Draco was too stressed out to reply, though not stressed out enough not to think adolescents yeah. You keep telling yourself that.

“Are we flooing together?” Harry turned around once more to offer his hand. Draco swallowed and took it, still not making any noise except for a tiny squeak in the back of his throat. He should have been more clear about it, should have refused to take Harry with him, should have moved to China, should have…

Green flames engulfed their bodies, and soon enough all thoughts of should haves ceased to exist.


“Uhm… Hi.” Harry’s sweaty left hand stayed captured in Draco’s iron grip but his right hand was free to go up to his head and mess up his hair even more. For once Draco didn’t blame him. Had he been in Harry’s position he would have fainted.

“Potter, is it? Wonderful to finally meet you.” Mrs. Zabini walked towards them in a flowing deep blue evening robe and offered him her hand. The gesture made the newly arrived couple realise they had yet to step out of the heart. Draco had been too busy not looking at anyone, while Harry had been to busy looking at everyone.

Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Gregory, Millicent and Daphne had arranged themselves not in the most comfortable chairs of the gigantic living room but in the ones that made them look the most frightening. Draco would have laughed at how closely they resembled the front of a muggle vampire novel had he not been fully aware that any vampire with a half decent set of grey cells would run for their lives at their sight.

At that moment he thought he rather shared their sentiment, and even more so when his eyes fell on the other people in the room, who all appeared to be dressed to kill. Only when Draco realised that the person they were planning to kill was his boyfriend Harry Potter did he unfreeze and square his shoulders.

“Miss Zabini, mother, Miss Goyle, Mrs Greengrass, Mr Greengrass, Miss Parkinson, Mrs Flint, Mr Flint, I see that all of you have been able to make it to the family dinner after all.” And he nodded to each person when he named them as his eyes spoke make one wrong move that chases Harry away and there will be trouble.

Miss Zabini finally got her hand shaken as Harry came back to life again next to Draco. One glance sideways told Draco that Harry’s eyes were not the only green thing about his face anymore.

“For you my love? Anything.” Miss Zabini smiled with her eyes still fixed on Harry telling him that hurting Draco would mean a very slow and painful death where no corpse would ever be found. “And you will find Astoria, Marcus, Mr Wood and Andromeda in the kitchen. It’s been a struggle to maintain the quality of our meals since the ban on house elves brought upon us by your lovely friend Miss Granger, but we manage.”

If Harry had not yet been chilled to the bone by the eyes of Miss Zabini then her tone of voice would have done the trick. Even Draco had goosebumps now.

“Well they were being treated horribly so Hermione had every reason to install that ban.” Draco nearly broke Harry’s hand as he thought Merlin’s balls Harry what part of “no politics talk” did you not understand? But he managed to defuse the situation as he glared at Miss Zabini and told her that they would have a peek in the kitchen then, if she wouldn’t mind.

Draco would never find out if she did as he had already dragged Harry off into the general direction of the kitchen before Miss Zabini could open her mouth. He pushed one of the many doors coming out onto the hallway open and pulled Harry into a bathroom, where the man spontaneously collapsed on the floor.

He refused to move until Draco had supplied him with a gallon of water and a tight hug.

“That was positively terrifying.” Harry muttered into Draco’s now ruined hair.

“I did warn you.” Draco replied, torn between being touched by how protective his housemates were and tearing all of them to shreds because Harry was actually shaking from the released tension. He decided to make up his mind later and hug Harry a bit more first.

“Not enough.” Harry shot back, but he did put his arms around Draco and buried his face further into his pale hair. Draco didn’t really know how to respond to that. It might be odd for a man who had spent the last couple years of his life being sorry to still be shit at apologising, but he was. Harry usually accepted a kiss too though, so eventually he tried that.

Only to find out Harry was silently crying on his shoulder.

“Harry, Harry what’s wrong?” Draco tried to lift his boyfriends head and read his face but the man refused to look up, burying his face even further. He now pressed so hard into Draco’s shoulder he was sure it would bruise.

“Harry it’s okay, we can go home. Your home I mean, or I can stay and you can go. I can even call the Weasel if you want me to.” Draco knew he was babbling in a panic but he didn’t care, he just wanted Harry to stop crying. He really should have moved to China or become a hermit in Nepal or anything that wasn’t bringing Harry Potter home to face his overprotective family without enough warning.

“Please stop crying.” Draco begged.

He got a badly aimed finger nearly in his eye before it landed on his mouth and shut him up. If that hadn’t puzzled him enough then the trail of kisses Harry started making down his neck would have.

“What are..?” He asked muffled before getting Harry’s entire hand over his face.

“I’m happy.” Harry’s eyes were bloodshot when he faced his boyfriend but his dazzling smile got all of Draco’s utterly confused attention. “I never thought I would have a family to introduce anyone to, and I never thought I’d be introduced to a family myself either.”

Draco didn’t think he had ever teared up so fast, or shared such a wet kiss with anyone. Cho Chang would be proud.

“Fuck you Harry.” He sniffed as they broke apart, wiping his eyes. “Crying ruins my aesthetic.”

Harry just grinned and kissed him again, this time trailing down his path on the other side of his face until he’d reached the left shoulder. Then he muttered “Sorry not sorry,” and playfully bit Draco’s collarbone that vibrated from a deep rumbling laugh.

“Do you really live with all of them?” Harry asked after Draco fell silent.

“I do. Most of us lost pretty much everything to war repayments, as we should have, we were in no way deserving of that money, and one by one that meant giving up on our mansions and villas. Eventually we all ended up here.” He patted the bathroom floor, grateful for that and the mansion it was in.

“Miss Zabini is a wonderful woman once you get to know her. She created a place where all of us could catch our breath and relax, where processing the war was the only thing we had to do. No stares to be ignored, no vengeful curses to dive away from, no landlords who refuse to rent to slytherins.” Draco nearly started crying again as he felt Harry’s arms tighten around him. They stayed silent for a while then, both lost in thought.

“How big is this place?” Harry broke away from their tight embrace a little to take in the diameters of the bathroom. It wasn’t really big, though the white tiles made it look like it was.

“Not big enough for this many people. It’s crowded and we need to share our bathrooms which is hell when you live together with Pansy.” Draco sighed and pressed his back against the cold wall, a tired smile on his face. “It’s better than the manor or Hogwarts has ever been though. No bad memories except for the one time Daphne tried to make a stove. Ulgh.”

He shivered and pulled a disgusted face that was meant to make Harry laugh. His heart swelled up when it did. Soon after his suspicion towards his often misbehaving boyfriend swelled too as his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

“Now I do have one other question.” Draco raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow and backed away just a little, not looking forward to spending the upcoming dinner with pink hair. “Do I need to ask for permission from all of them when I want to marry you, or just your mother?”


Lol sorry for this I had time to  kill

Only You || Cheryl Blossom

Request from @gentlydean: You said angst is good so here’s one that I guess would be angst/fluff? Basically the reader is a really shy girl who likes Cheryl, but catches Chuck kissing Cheryl and assumes they’re dating. It’s a misunderstanding because Cheryl ended up rejecting Chuck. Cheryl of course, pulls a Cheryl and does something huge like kisses the reader during a cheer routine in front of everyone at a football game or I dunno you can decide on the ending of course!! (Sorry I’m not good at explaining these gah)

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! It’s been a while since I’ve done prompts so forgive me if it feels a little rushed!

Gif by @dailycwriverdale

—————

Two years. It had been two years since you realized you had a crush on the Blossom girl. You sighed as you walked down the hallways of Riverdale High. Okay, maybe you didn’t just have a crush on Cheryl. Maybe you loved her. Despite your best friend Jughead begging you for months now to ask the ginger out, you always vehemently refused. Cheryl was the most popular girl in school and you were known as the loner, even more so than Jughead. Unlike Jughead, people knew nothing about you. You had moved to Riverdale in the fifth grade for reasons no one knew of and no one was aware of where you lived. So, yeah, the loner asking Cheryl Blossom out? Not going to happen.

You groaned internally.

Why did you have to love her? You only talked to her a couple times in class and that was only when she asked to borrow a pencil! Get it together, Y/N!

A couple wolf whistles made you look up and you froze when you saw Cheryl and Chuck at Cheryl’s locker, passionately kissing.

“Get it, Chuck!” Reggie yelled.

You felt hot tears well up in your eyes as you quickly turned away from the… the couple in front of you, running off as fast as you could.

You didn’t notice Cheryl looking after you.

As you ran, you quickly pulled out your phone, dialing Jughead’s number.

“Hel—”

“Pop’s. Now.” you croaked before you hung up.

You needed to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jughead said as he handed you a vanilla milkshake, sitting across from you. “I really am.”

You shrugged as you took the milkshake, setting it in front you. You weren’t really all that hungry.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you mumbled. “I mean, what’d I expect? She’s Cheryl. He’s Chuck. I’m just… Y/N.”

Jughead sighed and shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not “just Y/N,” he said. “You’re the Y/N. My best friend. The funniest and smartest girl I know. If Cheryl doesn’t see that, well, then screw her.”

You smiled at your best friend’s words.

“Thanks, Juggie,” you said. “You’re the best.”

Jughead nodded.

“I really am.” he agreed.

You rolled your eyes.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

The raven-haired teen shrugged.

“Well, it was good while it lasted,” he said. “Oh, and, um, does this “situation” mean you want to skip the football game tonight? Since, you know, the Ice Queen is gonna be there?”

You kicked the teenager under the table.

“Don’t call her that,” you said as a smirk made its way onto your face. “But no. I can go to the game. Support Archie and all. It is the championship game after all.”

Jughead shrugged again.

“Alright.” he said before the two of you entered a comfortable silence, you drinking your milkshake and Jughead typing away on his novel.

“Can it be halftime already?” Jughead groaned as he leaned against the chain fence separating the two of you from the football field.

You rolled your eyes.

“We have fifteen seconds left in this quarter,” you said. “Chill.”

Jughead groaned but remained quiet otherwise.

As the football team began to formulate their final play of the quarter, you happened to glance over at the cheerleaders. Cheryl in particular. To your surprise, she was looking right at you. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heating up.

Why was she looking at you?

“Hey, you okay?” Jughead asked.

“She’s looking at me,” you said quietly. “Cheryl’s looking at me.”

Jughead looked up at the ginger girl.

“What do you know?” he began. “She is.”


“Why?” you hissed.

Before Jughead could answer, you heard the referee’s whistle blow, signaling the end of the period. You weren’t even aware that the last play had just taken place.

“And now,” a voice boomed. “For our halftime show, the River Vi—wait, where’s Cheryl going?”

“Incoming.” Jughead announced.

Noticing the change in your best friend’s tone, you looked up only to freeze once you saw Cheryl making her way over to you.

“Wh—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the ginger cupped your cheeks with her palms and crashed her lips against yours. You heard loud cheers erupt from the bleachers and the football field and when you finally pulled away from the head cheerleader, she was smirking at you.

“What? Something the matter?” she asked coyly.

“Wh-But I saw you with—”

“It was a dare, Y/N-kins. How could I like him when I love you?” she asked.

Your cheeks reddened at her words.

“I-I-” you squeaked.

“Y/N, don’t say. Just do.” Jughead said from behind you.

With that, Cheryl’s lips claimed yours again and you just got utterly lost in her.

Maybe the head cheerleader did have a little thing for the loner after all.

—————

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please send feedback. Now I’m off to watch the season finale of “Riverdale!” Who do you guys think is gonna fall through the ice? My guess is Cheryl!

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So I’m thinking about Root and Shaw’s relationship development (when am I not lbr) and I just really appreciate how slow burn it was. Has to be one of the best developments I’ve seen for a f/f pairing so far, well for my view. We meet Root in s1 and Shaw in s2, by s3 they’re both regulars now buuuut they’re nowhere near to the point of falling for each other. In fact, most of s3 Shaw hates Root with a passion and Root loves flirting with Shaw because she knows it annoys the mess outta her and she’s a little shit. Then a little further on in s3 they become friends with benefits or maybe enemies with benefits lol; just casual sleeping together that for the most part meant nothing. Shaw is adamant about not doing relationships and one night stands only (three nights if you’re lucky).

Then by the end of s3/early s4, that’s when feelings start getting involved especially on Root’s end. By s4 you can tell Root is falling in love day by day and them sleeping together is no longer just a no strings attached situation for her. She can’t even handle seeing Shaw ‘date’ other people even if it’s just for a mission and she’s very clearly on the verge of bursting from all these intense feelings that she has for Shaw. Shaw on the other hand isn’t quite where Root is feelings wise, she cares for Root a huge deal so much so that she prefers to stay with the team and Root rather than run off with an attractive thief, but because of her personality disorder she knows she’ll never be able to be enough for Root not knowing that Root was aware of this but really didn’t care.

Then 4x11 happens and they finally have 'the talk’ about what this is they have between them. Root drops hints that she really wants to attempt a relationship with Shaw but Shaw thinks they’d be too much and too lethal together, of course Root doesn’t mind, she just wants Shaw. Then they kiss for the first time on screen (this showed that the feelings were pretty much mutual between them now or at least Shaw wanted Root to know that she cares more for her than anyone else romantically) and then Samaritan captures Shaw and Root goes on a warpath to find her in the following months. You can tell pretty much all of the back half of s4 that she’s dying inside and is pretty much a hollow shell without Shaw.

Then comes s5 and we have no idea how Shaw’s feeling or how she’s doing etc. Then 5x04 airs and we literally see everything Shaw feels for Root in that one episode. Anyone that thought she didn’t care as deeply for Root as Root did for her was so very wrong. Shaw considered Root her safe place/her home, the only person she thought about when Samaritan’s torture got too bad for her. The thought of Root made her feel comfortable and like everything would be okay eventually. And in simulations she killed herself over and over instead of Root because she just couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.

After 11 months of separation, they reunite and this is where their relationship started really moving forward. Absence makes the heart grow fonder rung true in their case. Root admits she can’t live without Shaw and Shaw admits she’d rather die than have Root in any sort of danger. They take milestones with each other, the main one being Shaw letting Root hold her hand. From the outside looking in that seems like such a small non important gesture but for them?! It was everything and it said so much about how far they had come. And even their playful banter, Root’s flirting use to annoy Shaw to no end (so she says) but now? Shaw welcomes it with open arms.

They were meant for each other, Root always knew but Shaw needed time to figure it out and she did.

It took 3 full seasons (plus the last eps of s2) but their journey (what we got of it) was beautiful and I’ll always be emo af over it. Definitely a noteworthy slow burn imo.

The ultimate Jonsa theory

 So, I was home being sad for all these leaks, the boatsex thing and for all this beautiful shoots of Jon and Daenerys together at 7x3 and then I had an inception, and I NEED TO SHARE WITH YOU ALL BECAUSE I’M FREAKING. OUT.

This boatsex thing was tormenting me because I saw no single sense about it. I mean, Jon met Daenerys at episode 3 and they will bang at episode 7? This makes no sense, it’s too hush to develop some kind of beautiful and true relationship. Look at Missandei and Grey Worm, they were exchanges glances and beautiful lines since season 4~5 and only now they actually kissed and everything *I loved it btw*
So here’s the thing: why would they make Jon and Sansa have all those lovely moments together since season 6 if Jon was meant to be with Daenerys in season 8? I mean Jonsa is clearly happening in the show, slowly like Missandei and Grey Worm were. So why destroy it now with this sexboat nonsense?

I was thinking to myself “this would never happen in the books” and then I realized something very very important: what if this is meant to happen in the books? In a different context of course, but what if?
The show is heading to its end, so things NEED to happen now in order to makes sense in the last season. The show have cut a lot of things from the books, but somethings were there, some prophecies and stuff that are really clear in the novels but the show doesn’t have time to explain so they just did it and that’s it.
Like the prophecy that Sansa will defeat Littlefinger at Winterfell for example, the show never said anything about it but it’s going to happen anyway this season.

So here’s the thing: In the books Daenerys has a very important moment at the House of the Undying, she is told prophecies about her life and her storyline in the show is following these prophecies.


So let’s talk about Daenerys and how she’s going to lead to Jonsa. Yes, You read it right. Let’s go.


One of the more disturbing things about her visions to me, is that she sees things that lead me to believe she is going to love Jon at some point of the novels.

A blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice, filling the air with sweetness”.

  We know blue flowers were related to Lyanna Stark so seeing a blue flower in a wall of ice is clearly about Jon. Seeing this means he’s going to be very important to her. So I believe she’s going to fall in love for him in the future books. That’s very like her in the novels, actually.

While she has these visions, the Undying say:

“three fires must you light… one for life and one for death and one to love…” 

 In the show she already lighted two fires: the first one to bring her dragons to life, the second one to kill the Khals and there’s a last one to came: a fire for love. I mean if she’s going to love Jon she has a fire to light for him, a fire to save his life, maybe? 

“…three mounts must you ride… one to bed and one to dread and one to love… “ 

Again, she already rode two mounts, the first one is Khal Drogo, when she rides him for the first time looking at his face, in the books they make love under the stars, which is meaningful in the Dothraki culture. The second mount is her dragon Drogon, a mount to dread the enemies. So the last one is a mount to love. That’s why the boatsex is there. Jon is her last mount, like Drogo was her first. Jon is her mount to love.

“three treasons will you know… once for blood and once for gold and once for love…”

And here we go to the point I wanted. She’s going to face three treasons. One for blood which is Mirri Maz Duur crazy shit when Daenerys lost her baby, the second one didn’t happen yet in the books and I don’t think is going to happen in the show, cuz ain’t nobody got time for that, but the last one is for love. For. Fucking. Love. She’s not gonna face a treason because someone loves her, she’s gonna face a treason because someone loves something or someone more than loves her

That’s when Jon comes in. 

Jon has already “betrayed” a woman for duty. He did that to Ygritte, he left her because he had a duty, he left her for the Watch, to warn them about Mance’s plan. He liked her, but he left her and never looked back. Jon’s lines this season are pretty clear: he loves the North, the North is his home, a part of him and he will never stop fighting for it. He loves Winterfell and its people. Jon loves his family, he loves Sansa. That scene at Winterfell crypts exists to show us that. So if a time comes when he feels that he needs to leave or act against Daenerys for the sake of things he loves he’ll do it. He is going to be Daenerys’s last treason. A treason for love. 

That’s why the sexboat nonsense is happening in such a hurry. Jon will betray her for the North. For the people he loves. We’re all waiting for a Starkbow when there’s actually a Targaryenbow coming next season.
I can see it happening in the show.  Jon letting go of Daenerys and going home for the sake of his people, because he loves them more than he cares for Daenerys, meeting Sansa again and realizing she is the one he truly loves and that they’ve been falling for each other since season 6. They will probably have a sweet scene like Missandei and Grey Worm had in 7x2, not some banging on a boat thing, cuz they both deserve a sweet moment. The show is developing them for this.

I was kinda pissed about this Jonerys thing but now I kinda feel sorry for Daenerys.  Jon’s treason will probably trigger the beggining of her fall. She’s such a tragic character. She tries to do things right and nicely but the world is always hurting her, so she embraces her family words to keep going. She’ll probably be dead in the season finale. That would fit the “bittersweet ending” George Martin promised: you will have a good ending but it’s not gonna be a complete happy one, you will have that bitter taste in your mouth because is going to be kinda tragic. Daenerys wasn’t meant to sit on the Iron Throne, her role is to conquer, once she’s done with that her role will end. That’s why she sucks at rulling in the novels, that’s why she is not able have babies anymore. She is doomed since book one. Will be sad for the readers and viewers to watch her fall so we will never truly be happy about Jon being happy. Jonsa will happen because Jonerys is going to be tragic for Daenerys. We will receive what we want but it’ll have a bitter taste in the end. 

Facing things like this I can watch the Jonerys scenes without vomiting. I hope it helps you all too.

Peace on Jonerys cuz it’s not gonna last. 
Jonsa is Coming.

Edit: If you think about it Doreah, Daenerys’s handmaid, “betrayed her for gold” in season 2 in Qarth. So there’s only a treason for love left in the show. Like I said, Daenerys’s storyline IS driven by those prophecies from the novels. So yeah, the last treason is coming.
Dear Younger Students,

I completed the last of my semester coursework yesterday and made an interesting observation that might assuage some of your worries.

I used to be a procrastinator. I was the kid who started their science project at 9pm the night before it was due. I was the kid who cranked out 20-page AP lit essays the day before it was due. I was the kid who did the reading for my next class in the class I was currently in. I was a hard core procrastinator until sometime during my MSc (around age 22-23). 

Slowly, I started doing my work earlier. Studying earlier, reading earlier, drafting earlier. Then I started finishing a week early, getting classmates to proofread my work, and writing 2nd and 3rd drafts (I used to just turn in my first). At times when I would’ve blown off my work, I started to sit down for a couple of hours and hack away at it. Fast forward four years and I managed to get 2 critique papers, 2 presentations, a final draft of a mock dissertation proposal, a stats homework, and a stats paper asking a novel causal question all done within the past two weeks (when they were assigned), and I got them all completed early.

I’ve thought for a while how weird my transformation was. Procrastination felt like a pretty embedded psychological trait of mine, so how was I completing my work early during the hardest semester of my academic career?

1) Maturity. It’s worth recognizing that my 26-year-old brain is more developed than my 15-year-old brain or my 20-year-old brain. At those time points, my prefrontal cortex was still developing, so naturally I had less discipline than I do now. It’s also had a lot more practice regulating my behavior in a variety of settings. 

2) Practice. People tend to cite perfectionism as a reason for procrastination, and I think that’s true, but I also think it comes down to practice. I’ve been doing academic work since I was a wee toddler, and I’ve been writing hefty (~20 page) academic pieces since high school (thank you Mr. H!). So after roughly 10 years of practice, I know how long it takes me to read information, synthesize an argument, draft it, and edit it. More to the point, it isn’t painful. It isn’t always fun, either, but the mechanics themselves are pretty fluid.

3) Enjoying the topic. Like most people, I do my best work when I like the topic. I was a procrastinator for years because I just didn’t enjoy spending that much time on the topics. I loved reading and debating ideas, but I didn’t like them so much that I wanted to write about them for days, especially when the prompt only wanted regurgitation and not unique thought. Only when I hit my MSc in Forensic Psychology did I think, “Yes, now this is REALLY cool.” Because they did want novel ideas and critical thinking. I did really well in that program because I didn’t just copy ideas and parrot them back; I took heaps of literature and gave them something new, or at least gave them nuance, and they loved it. I have enough practice now that I don’t need to enjoy the topic so much to perform at par, but I still do my best work when I do.

I’m addressing this to younger students so that you know that if you’re dissatisfied with your current study habits and discipline, you can change. And to some extent, if you’re in an environment that demands better habits and discipline, some of this change will occur naturally; be patient. Don’t get stuck in the mindset of “This is how I am and this is how I always will be.” Because it isn’t true. Keep practicing. You’ll get there.

Title: Teenage Rebellion
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Jonathan Byers x Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1,355
Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of bullying
Notes: Based on a request from an anon for “Could you do a Jonathan Byers fic with the prompt ‘I always hide in this one stairwell whenever I’m having a mental breakdown / existential crisis / etc but today when I came here you were already there’ Thank you!”

Originally posted by therealspideyman

Jonathan Byers had grown very accustomed to people whispering about him, often pointing and giggling amongst themselves as they did so. Because of this, it didn’t bother him when a few of his peers began gossiping about him – until he heard his mother’s and brother’s names come up.

“I still don’t think that Will Byers ever really went missing. That freak show of a family probably just wanted to land some paid interviews or something.”

I think the mom is a bit of a schizo. She probably just had a psychotic break and made the whole thing up.”

Jonathan could hear the teacher yelling after him as he left the room. He knew that if he had to sit there and listen to those idiots for another second, he’d have ended up getting suspended. The teachers would undoubtedly be looking for him, so he went to the one place he knew they’d never check.

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