i don't think for one second no one saw this coming

6

I had promised a KiriBaku kid something like months ago, and tbh most of the reason why it took me this long is because I couldn’t pick between these two so?? In the end just have them both I guess - some info about them under cut, in case you wanna know more!!

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  • Pete: Hi
  • Brendon: it was the summer of 2001, and Joe meets Patrick and he's like "yo, I know about music." then Patrick's like "yo I know more about music!" "that's impossible. so you wanna start a band?" and Patrick's like, "yeah that's cool." and then, he's like "yo this is a book store not a music store." and then they met at Patrick's house. so Patrick's wearing shorts, socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason and then Pete's there for some reason. and they start playing music together and they're like "oh, let's play some covers from some other bands." it was like Green Day, and fuckin' Misfits, and fuckin' Ramones. Pete said to Joe, "yo, that's dope, but we need a fuckin' drummer." because Patrick's playing drums and he's a singer. Patrick's like "yo, I got a soul voice," and they're like "wait how do you have a soul voice?" and he's like "yo, watch this: YEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeAAAAAAAAaaaaAAaahhh!" and they're like, "oh my god, that sounds like soul!" so they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIIIGHT?!" and they're like "yo that's fuckin perfect, this is Fall Out Boy." and they made records like Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. "it's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend." with your ex-girlfriend. it's called evening out with your Ex-girlfriend. it's called eating out your girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. and Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he's like "you what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. yo, this is gonna be fuckin' doooooooooope!" so they made a record and it was called Take this to Your Grave. they made it without a drummer, and they had like 3—4 drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Pert, the dude from Toto, the fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something, and they're like "you, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." and he did, and he killed it, and he was like "bigidalililililillillilila, PSHHH!" killin' the skin, tapping the skins, tapping the rim, playin' the shit, killing these bitches, rapping it out. you're getting a fucking tattoo right now?! what the fuck is going on?! We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, 'cause thee guys know what the fuck is going on. and they were like "yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys." and Pete was like "yo, we got this record that's fuckin' dooooooope, dude, it's called Take This to Your Grave, it's called From Under the Cork Tree it's gonna be fucking huge." and then Patrick's like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called-BURP-Thnks Fr th Mmrs, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar, Were Goin' Down. and they made this record that was fuckin' dope, and it fucking hit on the charts like one two three, three two one, three four five six seven eight nine ten. ten to one. From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records. ten million records. fifteen million records. and Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. and Patrick was like "that's gooooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOd." Pete was like, "yo, fuck you I can do whatever I want." and Joe was like, "yeah it's cool man whatever I don't give a shit." and then Andy was like "eh, cool." and Pete was like "Make up is fuckin' great for a guy. because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everyone thinks that guys are beautiful." I'm good so far yeah. yeah I do. SHUT THE FUCK. oh fuck, alright alright. Pete was like "oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic." and then I saw the dick pic and was like "ah it's not bad." it's not a bad dick. let's be real. we made Rollins Stones one issue before Fall Out Boy. and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed they were like "yo, fuck you guys!" they're like "yo! Panic! has the fuckin' cover for Rolling Stones, yo, fuck these dudes, we're gonna fucking go miles above. we're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man." but they didn't because they missed a second of time. apparently they were like "oh shit, we got every continent." and they didn't actually hit it. dude, and Pete was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?! 'oh you didn't fuckin' make the continent' it's like FUCK YOU!" so From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three-four years of awesomeness. like, people are coming in themselves 'cause it's so big. Alright so Fall Out Boy was like-- so Patrick's like "yo, we are going to name these records from under the Cork tree and from Innity-- from infinity on high." Pete was like "yo folie à deux means the theatric of two." "The madness of two." oh sorry I'm sorry. follow boy was like "yo we got to take a break." Meaning Pete was like "yo we got to take a break bro." and Patrick's like "I need time for my music. UHUhUhUHuhUUUh." and joes like "yo I need time to find the fucking art dude I got to find some fucking me-- metal" and andys like "i'm just gonna play with some fucking metal bands." and they're like "all right this breaks been like three years long two years long three years long 3 1/2? we gotta fucking come back man we gotta come back strong." you took my beer away what the fuck? "no you poured it all over yourself." "yeah you poured it on yourself man here." "we got to make this shit legit it's gonna be fucking dope it's going to go fucking sky high. we're going to make a fucking record that sails the skies. we're going to call this record save rock 'n' roll." so they made alone together light 'em up alone together Phoenix. and everybody's like "what the fuck? you're working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk." is this pu-- what the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on myself? oh god. Pete was like "yo were gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and twenty pilots. and that's all and that's all that matters. and that's just how the fuckin' story goes."
4

I Don’t Mean It Pt 6

Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

All the stress had taken a toll on your health and sadly, your body could no longer take it. Your colleagues had found you passed out in the hallway at work and that was when you finally decided to take a few days off. After deciding to leave Taehyung’s life, you were overwhelmed with how much you would be losing. 

You wanted to slowly ease out of his life. And you knew that once you gave him up, you had to give the rest of them up too. They had grown to be like your second family, and it broke your heart everytime you thought that they probably didn’t feel the same way about you. 

But when you saw Taehyung’s texts, anger somewhat bubbled up in you. He’s the one who didn’t want anything to do with you, so why did he care if you were suddenly sick? And who was he to get mad again? You clearly didn’t do anything this time around.

You decided to face him once he came back home. You figured it would bring you the closure you both needed, seeing as he clearly had something left to say to you.

The boys kept assuring you that they would come see you once they were back in town, but you almost dreaded the day they came back, knowing that it might be the last day you got to see them.

“You can do this Y/N” you told yourself over and over as the days passed by. You didn’t know when exactly they were coming back as their schedule was never really set in stone. As each day passed, you felt more confident that you didn’t need them. But one night your doorbell rang, and your heart sank. It was time. 


A/N: thanks for waiting for part 6! Who wants part 7? Also, I think for part 7, I’m not going to have any texts, hope thats ok?? PLEASE let me know what you think of that. 

If you ever want someone's attention, send them this-

It’s summer of 2001; Joe meets Patrick and he’s like “Yo, I know about music.” and Patrick’s like “Yo, I know more about music” “That’s impossible. Do you wanna start a band?” And Patrick’s like “…Yeah… That’s cool.” And then he’s like “Yo, this is a book store, it’s not a music store!”

And then they met at Patrick’s house. And Patrick’s wearing shorts and socks and a hat. Patrick is playin’ drums for some fuckin’ reason! And Pete’s there, for some reason! They start playin’ music together. And there like “Oh, let’s play some fuckin’ covers from some other bands!” It was like, Green Day and fuckin’ Misfits and fuckin’ Ramones! Pete said to Joe “Yo, we gotta change this shit up! Yo we’ve played all these bands; let’s play shit from Fall Out Boy.” And so Pete and Patrick are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need a fuckin’ drummer!” Because Patrick’s playin’ drums and he’s a singer! And he’s like “Yo! I got a soul voice!” And there like “Wait, how do you have a soul voice!?!” And he’s like “Yo watch this! Yeah!” and they’re like “Oh my god! That sounds like soul!” So they put it in the song and it was like “WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIGHT!”

And then they’re like “Yo, this is fuckin’ perfect. This is Fall Out Boy.” And they made records like, Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. its called Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. Its called Eating Out Your Girlfriend, and its real and it doesn’t matter. And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like “Yo, what the fuck! Yo this is gonna be fuckin’ dope!” So they made a record, and it was called take this to your grave. They made it without a drummer! And they had like three, four drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like… Josh Freese, Neil Peart, the dude from Toto… The fourth one was like the guy from papa roach or something. And they were like, “yo, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take this to your grave. Fuckin’ record it.” And he did it, and he killed it. He was like,Bigadigadigalalululapssshhhh! Killing the skins! Tapping the skins! Tapping the rims! Playing the shit! Killing these bitches! Wrapping it out!

“We should get signed, to Fueled by Ramen. ‘Cause these guys know what the fuck is going on.” And they were like “Yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin’ hard. We will sign you guys.” Pete was like ”Yo! We got this record that’s fuckin’ dope dude! It’s called Take This To Your Grave.“ Hey, its gonna be called From Under The Cork Tree, its gonna be fuckin’ huge. And then Patrick’s like “I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic. These are three songs that are gonna make the album and its called… This is called Thanks for the Memories, 20 Dollar Nosebleed, and Sugar We’re Going Down..” And they made this record that was fucking dope and it fucking hit on the charts.

Like one, two, three! Three, two one! Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! TEN TO ONE! From Under The Cork Tree sold like, four million records! Ten million records! Fifteen million records! And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. And Patrick was like “That’s good!” Pete was like “Yo, fuck you! I can do whatever I want!” Joe was like “Yeah, it’s cool man, whatever… I don’t give a shit.” And then Andy was like “Eh… Cool!” And Pete was like “Makeup is fuckin’ great for a guy. Because it makes a guy look beautiful. Which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. And I wanna change that.I wanna make sure everybody thinks that guys are beautiful.”

Pete was like “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed about this dick pic!” And then I saw the dick pic, and I was like “Eh, it’s not bad. It’s not a bad dick. Let’s be real.” Panic! At The Disco made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy. And Fall Out Boy made the issue right after Panic! And they were so pissed! They were like “Yo, fuck you guys!” They were like “Yo! Panic has the cover of Rolling Stone!?! Yo, fuck these dudes, were gonna go fucking miles above! We’re gonna hit every fucking continent there is known to man!” But they didn’t! Because they missed a second of time, apparently. They were like “Oh, shit we got every continent.” And they didn’t actually hit it. Dude, Pete was like “What the fuck!” oh you didn’t fuckin’ make the continent. It’s like, fuck you!

So From Under The Cork Tree happens, we fuckin’ have three, four years of awesomeness! Like people are cumming on themselves it’s so big! So Fall Out Boy was like, so Patrick’s like “Yo, we’re gonna name this record ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ and From Infinity In High.” Pete was like “Yo, folie a deux means, the theatric of two.” Fall Out Boy was like “Yo, we gotta take a break” meaning, Pete was like “Yo, we gotta take a break bro” and Patrick’s like, “Y need time for my music! Yeah!” And Joe’s like “Yo, I need time to find the fuckin’ art dude I gotta find some fuckin’ meau-metal.” And Andy’s like “I’m just gonna play with some fuckin’ metal bands.”

And they were like, “Alright, this breaks been like three years long. Two years long. Three years long. Three and a half. We gotta fuckin’ come back man. We gotta come back STRONG! We gotta make this shit legit. It’s gonna be fuckin dope. It’s gonna go fuckin sky high. We’re gonna make a fuckin’ record that sails the skies. We’re gonna call this record… Save Rock And Roll.” So they made Alone Together, Light 'Em Up, Alone Together, Phoenix. And everyone’s like “What the fuck? You’re working with this guy who fuckin’ recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk!” Pete was like “Yo, were gonna end up on the tour with Panic! At The Disco and Twenty Pilots.” And that’s all. And that’s all that matters. And that’s how the fucking story goes.

@thunderboltsortofapenny said: No no let’s do this! Why would steve need to be fake married. Or why would bucky need to be fake married to Steve. We need a reason. #Viper do the thing #It’ll be fun!

So I did the thing, and it’s stupid and terrible, but here, have it:


Bucky’s an EMT. Normal guy, just living his life, trying to help where he can. And then one day, all of a sudden, the aliens are invading NYC, and Bucky’s out there helping, right in the middle of the danger zone because of course he is.

There’s a fight going on, and a bunch of freaks in weird suits seem to be fighting the aliens, but Bucky doesn’t have much time to focus on anything other than all the people in dire need of medical attention. He does what he can to help, grabs the first metal bar he can find and fights only the aliens getting in his way, and works himself to exhaustion. Then there’s a blast, and it sends a man flying right into the wall next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asks, rushing to help him, and though Bucky could’ve sworn the blow was hard enough to crush anyone’s ribs, he’s surprised to see the man–who must’ve been on his way to a costume party–stand up practically unscathed.

He’s got broad shoulders and a strong jaw and eyes of the prettiest shade of blue Bucky’s ever seen, and even with his face covered in soot and grime and blood, Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

For a few seconds the man seems a bit disoriented, then he finally registers Bucky’s presence. “What are you doing here?? Get out of the streets!”

“I was–” Bucky starts, and is cut off by an explosion right above their heads and a bunch of debris raining down on them, and a hand shoving him aside.

When he comes to, which is a surprise in itself, the dust has started to clear, and the man who’s clearly saved his life is carrying him as if he weighed nothing, concern in those beautiful eyes and a big, warm hand pressed tenderly against Bucky’s neck, checking for a pulse.

He locks eyes with Bucky and sighs in relief, the hint of a smile on his plush lips, but the hand remains where it is. “Hi,” he says. “You all right?”

“Y-yeah… Thank you,” Bucky replies, but he doesn’t move to free himself of the man’s arms. His stomach is doing something weird, and the man surely has other people to rescue, but for a few seconds they both just stay there, shell-shocked and staring at each other like the world around them has stopped.

Then something blows up nearby, and the spell is broken.

Carefully, the man helps him to his feet, makes sure Bucky’s in one piece, and then says, “Find shelter, okay? Stay inside.”

Bucky’s not planning to, but he can’t find it in him to tell that to this incredible man, so he slowly licks his lips and nods. Before turning around to leave, the man offers him a small, shy smile.

- - - - -

During the next few weeks after the Chitauri attack on NYC, every single piece of footage of the Avengers fighting against the aliens and helping civilians goes viral. Phone videos, security cameras, blurry pics.

The most popular, by far, is a snapshot of Captain America carrying a guy, who can be seen fighting aliens and helping people in other videos, bridal style, thumb caressing his jaw, and both looking like lovestruck teenagers.

Bucky can’t go to the grocery store or even do his job without being stalked by the paparazzi or Cap’s groupies or just random people wanting to know what his Avenger name is, and for how long he’s been dating Captain America.

- - - - -

“You’ve ruined my life!!” Bucky tells him, because of course, of course Captain America would pick Bucky’s park for his morning run. Of course Bucky’d slip on wet leaves on the pavement precisely this morning, and of fucking course Captain America would just happen to be around to catch him at just the right time. Bucky’s seeing red.

“I’m sorry,” Captain America says, and it’s extremely unfair just how genuine and how much like a kicked puppy he looks.

Christ, Bucky wants to punch him.

- - - - -

Steve’s been living in PR hell.

He’s spent the past weeks “saving” girls and boys alike from getting hit by a bicycle, or fainting, or a fuckton of equally stupid shit.

The second anyone spots Captain America, there’ll suddenly be some kind of dangerous situation going down, and someone hoping Cap will carry them bridal style to safety and maybe fall head over heels in love with them in the process.

Steve is tired and done and ready to get back in the ice for another few decades, and shares Pepper’s worries that someone might actually put themself in real danger soon.

“We should handle this before it gets worse,” Nat says. And Steve agrees, of course, but he just doesn’t know how.

“Just marry the guy,” Clint suggests.

Steve almost chokes to death on his own spit.

“WHAT?”

Clint shrugs. “Why not? Half the world already thinks you’re dating…”

“Clint, he hates me…”

“Only cause people keep pestering him about this. If you two get married it’ll be a circus, but then it’ll blow over. He can’t even do his job right now, right? So you pay the guy for the trouble, yadda yadda, then when this is over you two get a quick divorce, and that’s it. Problem solved.”

For two minutes, no one else opens their mouth. Then:

“He’s got a point…”

“Tony, no,” Steve whines.

“You saw the footage, how he was helping those civilians… If you have to marry someone, he’s not a bad candidate,” Nat says, and then smirks. “Plus, he’s cute.”

Steve already knows he’s lost this battle, but that doesn’t help him feel any better about this. Yes, he’s cute. Yes, he’s a brave and kind and smart guy. Yes, Steve could very easily pretend to be married to him for a while and yes it’d help them both. None of that’s the problem.

The problem is that he kind of really likes the guy.

The problem is that the guy hates him.

This is a really, really bad idea.

How the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury

I’ve been wanting to make a post about this for a while, even though I might be the only person invested in this, but anyway, here we go.

I’ve seen mentioned several times, in posts about the movie and in fics that the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury through the window of Steve’s apartment, and every time it makes me groan in frustration because no.

The Winter Soldier didn’t shoot Fury through a window, he shot him through a wall, and I don’t know about you, but it seems like a pretty big difference to me.

(bullet hole in the wall!!)

When I saw the scene the first time, I remember thinking holy shit??? that’s crazy, and for me that’s when the Winter Soldier really became a real, terrifyingly good assassin, that’s when his image as a serious threat solidified.

Read about the blogger getting carried away under the read more.

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Lust

Pairing; Kim Taehyung x Reader

Words; 3.4k

Genre; Smut with a plot (hints of other things if you look real closely)

Summary;  ❝Lust; A passionate or overmastering desire or craving❞

Aka; Taehyung is a jerk, Jimin drags you to his Halloween party and Taehyung looks too fucking good dressed as a vampire

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anonymous asked:

man I don't think you can really say bro is brainwashed but gamzee's just evil when you can argue that gamzee's also possessed by cal. they even have really similar relationships to how he's formed, ie part of their souls exist inside lil cal already. which is probably a good explanation for how lil cal is able to brainwash them when he doesn't brainwash, like, dave, who is around him his whole childhood. idk, I just think gamzee's more complicated than "evil ass hole"

As it happens, Gamzee has a line I never gave much weight to before noticing Bro’s SAW interest that I’m more inclined to take seriously now, that suggests Gamzee and Bro’s relationship to Cal WAS intrinsically different:

But even if Bro is kind of a noble captor figure holding Cal back, I still wouldn’t think it excuses any of what he put Dave through. He’s still an awful dude.

As for Gamzee, here’s the main problem with reading him as “just” brainwashed.

Gamzee doesn’t require Lil Cal’s presence to go evil. In fact, Gamzee doesn’t seem to require ANYTHING to turn evil. 
But even if like, Doc Scratch ALWAYS teleports Lil Cal into Gamzee’s presence to trigger his personality shift, I don’t think it would matter.
The weight of the sheer SCALE of Gamzee’s devotion cements his place as an ultimately willing accomplice/acolyte to Caliborn’s Dark Carnival. 

And it kind of makes Gamzee fucking terrifying and a fantastic villain.

I’ll explain my reasoning here.

We know for a fact that Gamzee snaps and kills all his friends in at least one Doomed timeline. This is the source for half the code used in the creation of Doc Scratch. There’s no implication that Lil Cal is involved here at all. 

But again, let’s assume Lil Cal was here again. It doesn’t matter.

Because there is canonically, explicitly, no timeline in the history of Gamzee where Gamzee ever, ever, EVER chooses to rebel. Gamzee Makara simply does not ever choose his friends over Lord English.  In any timeline. Ever.
How do I know?

Lets talk about Ghosts for a minute. The fandom has historically kind of taken these guys for granted, and loose fandom consensus is that they aren’t coherent/who has what ghosts is arbitrary. This is incorrect!

Pretty much everybody in the Bubbles that should have alt!ghosts does, including Meenah and Aranea, the two characters who’s alt!ghosts are typically presumed “Missing”. 

This is important. The Ghosts kind of give us very low-key character development, and contextualize the characters for us. For example, Eridan is an absolute irredeemable bastard in the Alpha timeline. But in a God Tier iteration of themselves, Eridan and Feferi seemingly come to friendlier terms. In another, there’s suggestions Eridan makes up with Feferi and Sollux. In yet another, he seems to be Trans or exploring femininity at least.

The point is, there’s a certain fluidity to Eridan’s potential. Still terrible in the comic, but it’s important to remember that Eridan didn’t CHOOSE to be trapped in the meteor with Jack, or to be born to Alternia’s power system, or to be trapped in the Alpha Timeline. 

It’s important to remember these things because in Homestuck, someone with power–Lord English–deliberately and willfully chose those things FOR him. Eridan’s lives are lived in response to that imposed power structure.
These factors don’t redeem him completely necessarily

But anyway, the fact that the rest of the cast have coherent quantum expressions means there are only three real exceptions–three characters who either don’t have any ghosts at all, or should have more ghosts than they do. 

The first is Caliborn, who’s timeline has exactly one deviation from the Alpha–apparently caused by John’s retcon. This riddle’s solved easily enough:
Predomination doesn’t leave a ghost to appear in the bubbles at all.
When Calliope says she ate his soul, she means that literally. 
Caliborn’s cheating in the Alpha Timeline is indeed the only reason Calliope exists in the bubbles at all.

(This, by the way, explains a lot about the relationship between Caliborn’s soul and Gamzee/Arquis’ in the Lord English. He predominated over them, too.)

The second is Vriska, who only has a single ghost in (Vriska). This is really weird, because we literally know for a fact she dies in more than one doomed timeline! As with the two Calliopes, I think this is down to John’s retcon doing some weird entanglement nonsense to Vriska’s quantum existence.
The point is: Where others have a palette of possibility, Vriska has two extremely polarized halves. Schrodinger’s Vriska. 

Important to mention that just like Eridan, the structure of the Alpha Timeline that limits potential Vriskas is IMPOSED ONTO HER. Vriska didn’t want anything about the way she was raised or where she was born. She didn’t ask John and Terezi to retcon her into this bizarre state. Both Vriskas, like the rest of the cast, are rolling with the punches LE has seen fit to give. 

Except for Gamzee.

Hussie literally tells us Gamzee never dies. His single non-Alpha Timeline death in [S] Game Over is retconned by John, and Hussie suggests it straight up doesn’t count. But that presents a problem.

There are thousands upon thousands of Doomed troll timelines. How is it that Gamzee specifically never ever EVER dies? Well, there’s only one real way that a Non-Time player can survive a Doomed timeline, that we know of:

Dream self merger. By going to sleep as the last player present in Sburb, the Doomed Rose from Davesprite’s timeline triggers a game mechanic that ends her timeline completely and merges her consciousness with that of Alpha Rose through their dreamselves. 

If Gamzee survives his doomed timelines, this is the only possible way how.
And collapsing all of his potential instances into a single Alpha identity certainly sounds like the reduction of possibility commonly attributed to the Rage aspect.
But what that means is that to move on to the Alpha, every Doomed Gamzee must inevitably either snap and kill all the other trolls, or somehow outlast them. 

And it means that if any Gamzee had EVER, in the entire spectrum of plausibility the Alpha timeline affords, EVER been inclined to rebel against LE–then we would know. Because somewhere out there, that at least Hussie could see, there would be a Ghost to show for it.

But there isn’t. Similar in this respect only to Caliborn, Gamzee simply has no alternate deviations because he doesn’t want them. He chooses the path that leads to Lord English freely and willingly, over and over and over again. 

And like Caliborn…

Gamzee does this because he wants to. 

Gamzee doesn’t BELIEVE he’s going to become his own God–he knows it for a fact. He sees it in Lil Cal’s mangled soul. And he embraces that truth wholeheartedly, throwing himself into the acolyte role from then onwards and presumably following instructions Doc Scratch gives him throughout Act 6. 

Which we can talk about some other time. The point is: Gamzee chooses all this. Whether or not Lil Cal causes him to is beside the point, because there is not and never will be any timeline where Gamzee chooses to resist. 

Gamzee is the ultimate in shitty cosmic nazi religious zealots, and devoted to the very power structure that causes every other character to suffer so. There are no mitigating factors for him as there are for everyone else but Caliborn.
At the end of the day, he’s evil.
Bad clown. Worst enemy. 

anonymous asked:

I often have ideas for a scene or a character but there is no plot. How can I expand these ideas into stories? I just don't know what to do with my ideas to get a story out of them. Most plotting tips require that I know at least the beginning and the end of my story. But I don't even have that.

Hi Anonymous,

I’ve heard of other writers having this same problem, so you are not alone! Here are some ideas that come to mind when I think about this.

Coming up with a Plot (from scratch)

First off, you have ideas for characters or scenes, and that’s a starting point, and you probably (I’m assuming, because it wasn’t that long ago) saw my post, What to Outline When Starting a Story, which can give some guidance on what to consider. However, if you have no idea where to even come up with a concept for your plot that post can only be so much help.

Conflict out of Story Elements

Since you have some ideas about character and scene, I’d try building off that. In some cases, you might need to flesh those out a bit more to continue (I don’t know, since I don’t know how much you have those figured out).New York Times best-selling author David Farland points out in his book Million Dollar Outlines that characters grow out of their setting. We are all influenced by our setting–where we live, where we spend our time, what century we’re part of, etc.

Setting –> Character

Farland goes on to say that out of character (and setting) comes conflict:

Setting + Character –> Conflict

Plot obviously comes from some sort of conflict, the character reacting to and trying to solve that conflict or conflicts. But let’s finish out the diagram/equation.

Setting –> Character –> Conflict –> Theme

How conflicts are dealt with in the story create the theme.

It should be noted though that this diagram may not be helpful to everyone, and it’s also possible to work backwards from it. For example, I personally don’t like the idea of starting with the setting–although, realistically, pretty much all stories start there, if only to the most basic degrees (time period, real world vs. fantasy world, Earth vs. space, etc.). I often like to start with character. But as you work on your character, at some point, you are going to be looking back at what kind of life he grew out of and where he came from, and where he is now. Other people may like to start with conflict, and work back into character and setting. So, it doesn’t have to be linear.

But let’s look at the conflict part. You need some form of conflict to have plot. As I mentioned a few weeks ago in my post Are Your Conflicts Significant? the conflict should either be broad (far-reaching) or personal to the character. If it’s not either, it’s probably not that significant. However, it should be noted that you can make almost any conflict broad, or personal.

But how do you even get to that point? If you like Farland’s diagram, what I would suggest would be looking at those characters and setting. Brainstorm conflicts by asking yourself questions.

  • What conflict can come out of this setting?

For example, in some stories, major conflicts come straight out of the setting. Most if not all dystopians, like The Hunger Games fall into this category. You can even look at movies like Interstellar, which deals largely with space travel. The major conflict came out of a setting (Earth will soon be inhabitable). In a fantasy story, conflicts can come out of the world and worldbuilding (setting), whether it’s the magic system or the world itself. In Lord of the Rings, the major conflicts often come from the setting (Frodo has to make it to Mount Doom) and magic (the One Ring is a magical object that must be destroyed). In historical fiction, it can come out of setting–what are some of the conflicts the world was dealing with during WWII?

But what about something more small-scale than Panem, outer space, and Middle-earth? Setting can play a role there too. What kind of conflicts can come out of attending high school in 2017? What conflicts might be present there? What conflicts might come out of trying to start a career as a woman centuries ago? The story doesn’t have to be epic for this sort of brainstorming to work.

Les Miserableis a good example of how setting can play into conflicts, whether it’s being a struggling young mother, a convict, or participating in politics.

  • What conflict can come out of this character?

Once you have your character, you can try brainstorming conflicts for her. Now, there are sort of two ways to approach this.

One, you look at your character–her personality, strengths, weaknesses–and ask yourself, what would this character want? Figuring out what your character wants is often vital to a good story. In some stories, it can be more simple, basic, or straightforward. Maybe your character just wants money. In other cases, it might be bigger. Maybe your character wants to defeat an evil ruler. It can be somewhat philosophical. Maybe your character dreams of ridding the universe of a false god, like in His Dark Materials.

When you know what your character wants, you can start brainstorming conflicts by considering what could stop her from getting what she wants. In Lord of the Rings, Frodo volunteers to destroy the Ring, but there are literal obstacles in his way. Space, for one thing. He has to travel for miles and miles and miles. Then there are other people and creatures: orcs, Shelob, Sauron, even his own companions–these people are in conflict with him. He has to deal with getting hurt, wounded, and fatigued. All these things are keeping Frodo from his goal. And of course, his ultimate want is to return to the Shire, but he has to destroy the Ring first.

If your character wants to be in a relationship with someone, there are obstacles too. Maybe the love interest doesn’t know he exists. Maybe there is a family feud, like in Romeo and Juliet. Maybe there is a love triangle. Whatever your character wants, you start brainstorming what could keep him from getting it.

A second approach to brainstorming conflicts with character is to look at your character and consider what kind of situations would be difficult for them, what would make them grow. In some cases, they might be the reluctant hero. Love him or hate him, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, Edward Cullen is a good example of this sort of thing. He’s a “vegetarian” vampire living his life, and then out of nowhere, a girl shows up that is basically his personal brand of cocaine. How is he supposed to deal with this? Worse. He has feelings for her. Immediately, Edward is in conflict.

Now, you can combine both methods. And in reality, both those examples have both. Sure, Frodo volunteered to take the Ring, but he was basically the only person who could. But look at him. He’s just a humble hobbit. He doesn’t do magic, he doesn’t know warfare, and he knows very little about the world. But he’s thrown into a situation where those characteristics will be tested. Similarly, Edward is thrown into a situation, but he ends up having wants too. He wants to be in a relationship with Bella. But the fact he is a vampire and she has potent blood is a conflict that impedes that.

So you can brainstorm conflicts from setting and character.

Plot out of Conflict Types

Let’s look at this another way.

There are five types of conflict.

Keep reading

Me as a parent
  • kid: mom tell me a story
  • me: it was the summer of 2001, and Joe meets Patrick and he's like "yo, I know about music." then Patrick's like "yo I know more about music!" "that's impossible. so you wanna start a band?" and Patrick's like, "yeah that's cool." and then, he's like "yo this is a book store not a music store." and then they met at Patrick's house. so Patrick's wearing shorts, socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason and then Pete's there for some reason. and they start playing music together and they're like "oh, let's play some covers from some other bands." it was like Green Day, and fuckin' Misfits, and fuckin' Ramones. Pete said to Joe, "yo, that's dope, but we need a fuckin' drummer." because Patrick's playing drums and he's a singer. Patrick's like "yo, I got a soul voice," and they're like "wait how do you have a soul voice?" and he's like "yo, watch this: YEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeAAAAAAAAaaaaAAaahhh!" and they're like, "oh my god, that sounds like soul!" so they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIIIGHT?!" and they're like "yo that's fuckin perfect, this is Fall Out Boy." and they made records like Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. "it's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend." with your ex-girlfriend. it's called evening out with your Ex-girlfriend. it's called eating out your girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. and Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he's like "you what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. yo, this is gonna be fuckin' doooooooooope!" so they made a record and it was called Take this to Your Grave. they made it without a drummer, and they had like 3—4 drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Pert, the dude from Toto, the fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something, and they're like "you, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." and he did, and he killed it, and he was like "bigidalililililillillilila, PSHHH!" killin' the skin, tapping the skins, tapping the rim, playin' the shit, killing these bitches, rapping it out. you're getting a fucking tattoo right now?! what the fuck is going on?! We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, 'cause thee guys know what the fuck is going on. and they were like "yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys." and Pete was like "yo, we got this record that's fuckin' dooooooope, dude, it's called Take This to Your Grave, it's called From Under the Cork Tree it's gonna be fucking huge." and then Patrick's like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called-BURP-Thnks Fr th Mmrs, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar, Were Goin' Down. and they made this record that was fuckin' dope, and it fucking hit on the charts like one two three, three two one, three four five six seven eight nine ten. ten to one. From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records. ten million records. fifteen million records. and Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. and Patrick was like "that's gooooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOd." Pete was like, "yo, fuck you I can do whatever I want." and Joe was like, "yeah it's cool man whatever I don't give a shit." and then Andy was like "eh, cool." and Pete was like "Make up is fuckin' great for a guy. because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everyone thinks that guys are beautiful." I'm good so far yeah. yeah I do. SHUT THE FUCK. oh fuck, alright alright. Pete was like "oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic." and then I saw the dick pic and was like "ah it's not bad." it's not a bad dick. let's be real. we made Rollins Stones one issue before Fall Out Boy. and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed they were like "yo, fuck you guys!" they're like "yo! Panic! has the fuckin' cover for Rolling Stones, yo, fuck these dudes, we're gonna fucking go miles above. we're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man." but they didn't because they missed a second of time. apparently they were like "oh shit, we got every continent." and they didn't actually hit it. dude, and Pete was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?! 'oh you didn't fuckin' make the continent' it's like FUCK YOU!" so From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three-four years of awesomeness. like, people are coming in themselves 'cause it's so big. Alright so Fall Out Boy was like-- so Patrick's like "yo, we are going to name these records from under the Cork tree and from Innity-- from infinity on high." Pete was like "yo folie à deux means the theatric of two." "The madness of two." oh sorry I'm sorry. follow boy was like "yo we got to take a break." Meaning Pete was like "yo we got to take a break bro." and Patrick's like "I need time for my music. UHUhUhUHuhUUUh." and joes like "yo I need time to find the fucking art dude I got to find some fucking me-- metal" and andys like "i'm just gonna play with some fucking metal bands." and they're like "all right this breaks been like three years long two years long three years long 3 1/2? we gotta fucking come back man we gotta come back strong." you took my beer away what the fuck? "no you poured it all over yourself." "yeah you poured it on yourself man here." "we got to make this shit legit it's gonna be fucking dope it's going to go fucking sky high. we're going to make a fucking record that sails the skies. we're going to call this record save rock 'n' roll." so they made alone together light 'em up alone together Phoenix. and everybody's like "what the fuck? you're working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk." is this pu-- what the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on myself? oh god. Pete was like "yo were gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and twenty pilots. and that's all and that's all that matters. and that's just how the fuckin' story goes."
Pocky Day

This one-shot is inspired by Hiro Mashima’s picture he drew for Pocky Day 2017. I do not own Fairy tail or this picture, Hiro Mashima does.

Summary: Some people can’t seem to grasp the concept of staying in their lane. Erza finds out the hard way that sometimes it’s better to leave things alone. Canonverse.

Rated T for foul language, blood, mild violence, and adult situations.

Genre: Humor, Romance

Pairing: Natsu/Lucy (Nalu)

Word Count: 3.5K

Read on FF.net or AO3.


Pocky Day

“We need to figure out which guy Lucy likes.”

Cana and Mira looked over, giving Erza a questioning glance. They looked over to Lucy, seeing her sitting at one of the tables. A book was in her hand while her spirit, Plue, wobbled about the table. Their gazes turned to Erza, Cana choosing to ask, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Let’s do a pocky test!”

“A pocky test?” Mira asked, her tone skeptical. “What’s that?”

Erza’s eyes gleamed as she explained. “We make her and a guy eat a stick of pocky together to see who makes Lucy blush the most!”

Cana and Mira shared a look before shaking their heads. “That’s… that’s not a real test,” Cana said, but it was too late.

The requip mage was heading from table to table, asking if anyone had any pocky. When she found a pack of chocolate pocky in Levy’s possession, she snatched it away, ensuring the girl it was for a good cause. By the time Erza returned to the bar, a small crowd had gathered, Cana and Mira filling them in to Erza’s shenanigans.

“It’s not gonna work,” Macao said, shaking his head. “That girl blushes at everything.”

“Shhh,” Kinana swatted at the old drunk, “it might work.”

Erza grabbed a few sticks of pocky, waving them for everyone to see before heading to Lucy’s table. The celestial mage looked up when she saw someone approaching, offering Erza a smile.

“Hey Erza. How are you— What are you doing?!”

Erza dragged Lucy to the center of the room, looking around for her first victim. She found him sitting at the bar, a piece of chicken in his hand. “Natsu!”

Keep reading

in which y/n buys harry starbucks…

“Next in line, please.”

A few seconds went by.

“Next in line, please.”

She heard what the barista was saying, but she wasn’t processing anything. She was frozen in place. It wasn’t until the person in line behind her cleared their throat that she finally moved forward the couple of feet, coming face to face with the barista.  

“What can I get for you ma'am?”

Her eyes skirted around the menu for a few moments, as if she hadn’t been to Starbucks a million times. “May I get a grande white chocolate mocha? And also…” she looked in the pastry display, not quite finding what she was looking for, “Do you still have those pumpkin cream cheese muffins?”

“Yes, we do,” he said with a smile. 

“I’ll have one of those as well,” she replied, smiling back while pulling up the app on her phone. Normally, she’d already be prepared with her order and payment, but the fact that she watched Harry Styles walk into the place and was currently standing three people behind her was throwing her through a loop. 

Once her order was paid for, she leaned forward and gave the barista a ten dollar bill. “Harry Styles is standing a couple of feet down. Use that to pay for his drink and you can keep the change.”

He let out a short burst of laughter, but nodded his head along anyway. “Alright, love. I’ve got you.” He winked at her, as she went to go sit at the table with her belongings.

She had come there in hopes that a change of scenery would do her writing some good, but all chances of getting any work done flew out the window the second Harry Styles walked in. She spent the time waiting for her drink and muffin stealing glances at him from behind her laptop. 

They called her name and she scurried over to the counter to collect her refreshments just as Harry was moving up to the register. She was sure to keep her head down. Eye contact with him was the last thing she needed. She was just getting settled back in her seat when she looked up, prepared to sneak another peek at him when instead she saw the barista pointing at her. Quickly, she shot her head down before Harry caught her gaze, eyes bulging out of her skull. He wasn’t supposed to tell him! All she wanted was to do something nice for someone she was such a huge fan of. Now, he was walking her way. 

She plucked a piece of her muffin off, stuffing it in her mouth and chasing it with her drink, attempting to look engaged in anything that wasn't him.

“Mind if I sit here?" 

"No, of course not,” she choked out. 

She had planned out what she was going to say or do if she ever met him a million times over for a million different scenarios, but she never actually thought it’d happen. Still, she figured the key to this sort of thing would be to act natural. 

“Y/N was it?”

She nodded.

“Thank you for paying for my drink. You didn’t have to,” he said, smiling warmly at her. 

She smiled tightly at him in return. “I wanted to,” she said, glancing upward for a moment before looking back down. “And, I didn’t, like, do it so you’d…” she gestured between them, “I didn't—don’t—expect anything in return.” She hadn’t held any eye contact until she finished her sentence, but when she did, she found him already looking back at her, listening intently.

“Well, I appreciate it, anyway. I’ve never had a stranger buy me coffee before,” he admitted sheepishly.

She shrugged, finding it easier to talk to him than she imagined. “I like to keep my men both wined and dined.”

He snorted before bursting into a full bellied laugh. “I don’t even have any food.”

She pushed out the muffin she ordered for herself, silently offering him a piece.

He wrinkled his nose up at it. “What is it?”

“Pumpkin cream cheese muffin. It’s really good.” She thought for a moment. “Or are you not eating like carbs or gluten or something right now?”

He shook his head in amusement. “Where do you guys get this stuff from?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You literally admitted to doing a juice cleanse on national television. And, you’re, like, really fit.”

His face broke into a splitting grin. “You think I’m fit?”

“Not, like, British fit, like American fit, like, you’re always going to the gym and ugh!” she ended, burying her face in her hands.

He pried her hands from her face, laughing lightly. “Kidding.”

She opened her mouth to say something, breath hitching from the contact they held but was cut off by a pinging sound coming from Harry’s phone. 

He dropped her hands in favour of reading the message on the screen. She took a sip of her beverage in an attempt to avert her attention away from him. “I have to go,” he piped up a couple seconds later, grabbing his coffee and standing up to exit the building.

“It was lovely meeting you, Harry,” she responded, smiling graciously.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He picked up her hand and planted a small kiss on it causing her to squeak.

She watched him take a few steps towards the door, then spun on his heel walking back to her. To say she was confused was an understatement. “Did you leave something?” she questioned at the same time he sputtered out “Do you have tickets?”

“Pardon?” she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

He released a nervous breath. “Do you have tickets? To my show tonight?”

“I… do not.”

“Would you… like some?”

“Tickets? To your show?”

“Yeah.”

She was taken aback, so much so that she didn’t say anything for several seconds. Harry stood there nervously shifting from foot to foot. “You don’t have to,” he spat out.

“I’d love to.”

“Cool. Cool. Also, there’s gonna be an after party, and I’d really like it if you would stick around.”

She was certain she looked like a fish out of water with the amount of times her mouth opened and closed. “That sounds like something I would be interested in,” she finally said overly composing herself. 

“I’ll see you later then?”

“That you will, my dear, that you will.”

She watched him walk out the door and turn right before she freaked out over what had just happened.

Rough Around the Edges

upperstories submitted: 

Climbing up six flights of stairs was a pain.

Climbing up six flights of stairs after driving what felt like thousands of miles without stopping for anything but gas and coffee wasn’t much better.

But climbing up six flights of stairs with a bad knee, three exhausted bundles of living ink clinging to you like a lifeline, and going on nothing—no real food or water or even a bathroom break—but sheer grit? Downright impossible.

Henry Ross cleared it in half his usual time.

He didn’t care how late it was, how much he ached or how much he wanted to just curl up next to the chipped floor molding and become comatose, he was not in the mood for any of his neighbors catching him as he was. He just thanks god his doorman, a short ruddy-faced man named Patrick, had fallen asleep at his desk before he’d snuck in, like old Patty always did after 11:00 PM.

“644, 645—646,” said Henry, stopping to catch his breath.  “Here. This is it.”

He could feel Boris, Alice, and Bendy collectively sigh in relief, wilting like lilies in the hot summer sun.

Boris was fairing what seemed like the best of them; hand on Henry’s shoulder for balance, but with enough of his druthers to stand upright without help. Alice clung to Henry’s left pant leg, leaning heavily, her black eyes barely open, and not at all complaining when Henry used his free arm to help keep her steady. Bendy, for all his intents and purposes, hadn’t left Henry’s grasp since the studio, tucked against his left side with his face half buried in the old animator’s collar. Henry was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep at least 3 times on the way—he had one hell of a loud snore for a shorty. He hadn’t asked to be put down once, but Henry did not complain. It had been a long day for all of them, but Bendy had had it the roughest—which was saying something, as Henry had learnt that hard way that being turned into a living cartoon was no picnic.

“What’s the plan, Henry?” said Boris, catching Henry off guard.

“Plan is, uh,” Henry mumbled, fumbling with keeping Bendy and Alice from toppling over while he fished for his keys. They weren’t in either of his pockets… where were they?

“Get inside, go to bed. Try to sleep and…” He sighed, “I don’t know, come up with a better plan in the morning.”

“Works fer me,” Bendy muttered, not even opening his eyes.

It was then Henry noticed a small shimmer along the door’s upper frame. Bracing Alice as best he could, he reached up and ran a hand along the top of the door molding and caught something metal on the far corner. Of course. Right where he left it.

“Henr—ry?” said Boris, muffling a yawn behind the back of his hand. “That, uh, don’t seem particularly safe there, leaving yer key where someone can find it. What if someone tries breakin’ in?”

“Not to worry Boris,” said Henry, smirking to himself sardonically, “I doubt anyone would find anything of mine worth stealing…”

The lock gave a rusty clunk, and Henry shouldered it open.

The sound of a rickety radiator and the smell of old newsprint, a faint burnt wood-like scent, and cardboard greeted them along with the faint sting of old alcohol. The light of the hallway cast a thin orange glow into the otherwise pitch-black apartment. Henry couldn’t remember feeling so relieved to see color, faded and muted as it was.  He ushered everyone in and quickly shut the door behind them before trying a light switch. It flickered twice before dimly glowing weakly, barely any better than the hallway light. With a small fzzt!, it went right back out.

“Great,” Henry grumbled. It took a bit of blind stumbling, but he managed to reach a tall lamp next to the couch and switched that on instead. The bedroom was cast a pale light, giving everything a pale bluish tint. “Gonna need to replace that.”

Alice and Boris blinked in the sudden light, Bendy preferring to just keep his face buried under Henry’s chin.

“Well, uh,” Henry said, eyebrows creasing as it seemed something very apparent dawned on him. He tried his best to smile, but only managed a wince and he half-heartedly motioned to the living room. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

The light made it easier to take stock of just how messy the man’s apartment really was. A quintessential bachelor pad, with bare walls, sealed and opened boxes alike strewn everywhere, bookshelves decorated with everything from empty whiskey and beer bottles to unfinished model ships—and pretty much everything except for books. Dirty laundry littered the floor, waste bins sat overturned in the corner. The kitchen looked almost unused, save for the stacks of pots and pans stuck to the grimy stone tops, and piles of unread junk mail and bills sat on the kitchen counter, unsorted. The couch looked about as comfortable as a sack of potatoes, the green fabric a shade greyer than when it was first bought.  One of its legs was held up by an old phone book.

A thick, sturdy easel and stool sat out of place in the corner, next to a far window, unmistakable in spite of a tarp covered it. Stacks upon stacks of blank newspaper leaned against the corner behind it, book-ended by empty sketchbooks that looked hardly handled. A stray sheet of sketch paper poked out from under the tarp, the off-white paper marred with frustrated, uninspired scribbles of charcoal.

Henry was suddenly acutely aware of Alice and Boris’s stares. He coughed.

“Sorry about the mess,” said Henry, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down, “I don’t, uh, get guests all that often.”

“S’alright Henry,” said Boris, voice no longer tired. His ears had pulled back, eyes downcast as well. “We don’t mind it.”

“S’not like we got anywhere else to be,” Bendy mumbled, peaking up. “Even if it is a pig’s sty.”

“Bendy,” said Alice, sharply.

“Any port in a storm, huh?” Henry shrugged, smirking ruefully. “Alright, alright, everybody to bed. We can worry about this mess in the morning.”

He didn’t need to tell the Toons twice. Henry herded them into the next room, which was surprisingly less musty than the den. There were still more piles of boxes strewn about, sure, but the desk next to his bed was only slightly disheveled, and bed looked well made. Almost as if Henry never really slept in it… or used his bedroom at all.

He led Boris to one end and helped him strip the covers to climb in. Afterwards, he lifted Alice up onto the mattress. Up next was Bendy.

“Alright, short stuff, time to get down,” said Henry, leaning down for Bendy to easily fall onto the mattress. Which he did not. “C’mon, I need my arm back at some point.”

“Can’t here yah, I’m asleep,” said Bendy, pretending to snore, clinging all the tighter.

It took a couple of attempts, but he finally managed to pry Bendy free from his side, his arm practically all pins and needles from the tight hold the little demon had on him. In spite of the little devil’s petulance, Henry gently set him down next to Alice and gave his arm a slow pinwheel stretch. He ignored Bendy’s pointed, pouting glare, clearly not liking being rudely stripped from his warm perch. The fact that a draft ran along Henry’s apartment didn’t improve things much either.

“It’s cold,” said Bendy.

“I know. Sorry,” said Henry. He shouldn’t feel this guilty. “It’s all we got for now.”

The apartment was small, the circumstances messy, the bed a single, and tomorrow looked big and uncertain… but it was all Henry had on such short notice. He only got color back a day ago; he could worry about living conditions later.  

Tomorrow. He could worry about it tomorrow.

He motioned to tuck them in and—stopped himself when Bendy gave him a look.

Why had he moved to do that?

He rubbed his neck and stifled a yawn with his knuckles.

“I’ll be in the den if you need me,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling very foolish.

“You’re not staying here?” Alice asked. Boris looked surprised as well, but Bendy ignored all of them and crawled under the sheets, pointedly looking away from Henry. Something about that stung, just a little.

“Not enough room for all of us on there, Angel,” said Henry. The stinging didn’t go away. He’d gotten them all out, hadn’t he? He brushed it off. “But, uh, I’ll leave the door open. You can bug me for anything.”

Alice nodded, but she looked like she wanted to say something else. Henry waited… and she just followed Bendy, tucking herself between the demon and the wolf without another word. Boris gave Henry a little wave, but didn’t say much more before his head fell back on the pillows. Within seconds, he was snoring up a storm along with Bendy, Alice silently snoozing between them.

“Thing’s’ll be better in the morning,” he said, half heartedly. He wasn’t sure if he was talking more to them or himself. “Promise.”

The Toons said nothing.

Henry trudged to the couch, every inch of him feeling almost as heavy and war-beaten as when he returned to the States from the Front. As he turned off the lamplight, he only hoped sleep would come to him as easily as it had the Toons.

In spite of a million thoughts churned in his mind, clicking like giant cogs. The studio, Bendy, Boris, Alice, Sammy, Joey, their escape, the look on Bendy’s face and the strange ache it left in his gut. Or maybe he was just tired from all the running and the fear and the coffee. Henry pushed it all down, too tired to think, and fell face first onto the lumpy, familiar couch. His arm was left dangling over the side.

Sleep fell over him like a thick, lead curtain. Like a flood of inky black.

***

Henry awoke from a nightmare, and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming it.

He couldn’t remember much, except there had been whites and grays and something about sheep—or was it the 3 little pigs and the big bad wolf?— and a big, empty black void collapsing on top of him.  A faint whine broke through the void, someone’s whine—was it his? When his eyes snapped open, all he saw was black, and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

He was back. He was there. Back in the studio. Escaping had just been a wonderful, hopeful dream and he was still there he was going to die there and the Toons Were In Trouble—!

But when Henry bolted upright, he felt the familiar lump fabric of his couch, heard the familiar sound of taxi’s speeding by his building in the horrible early hours following midnight. He even welcomed the musty smell of newsprint and old beer. He wasn’t in the studio. He was safe.

And the Toons—

Henry leapt to his feet and bolted for his room in two easy strides. The door was open. And in the bed.

They were there. Safe and sound. Their silhouettes were easily recognizable, even in the faint moonlight and the faraway streetlamp light

Boris was leaning halfway out of the bed, tongue poking out and lolling to the side as he snored, his feet jutting out comically from under the covers over the end board. The blanket looks uncomfortable small on him. Alice was breathing deeply, her face twitching occasionally from deep REM, but otherwise looking peacefully saint-like. Her halo was crooked and looked dangerously close to falling on her face, disturbing her sleep. Bendy was silent, facing away from Alice and…

He softly whined.

Henry was at his side in a second. Had he woken Bendy up with his frantic flailing in the next room?

No, Bendy was still fast asleep, his face scrunched up tight, hands balling up the blanket and comforter in bunches, hogging it and pulling it away from Boris. A droplet of ink dribbled from his temple, staining the large pillow they shared.

Bendy was having a nightmare.

Without thinking, Henry reached for his pocket and pulled out a grey-stained handkerchief. Praying he didn’t startle the Toon awake, he gingerly mopped the loose ink from Bendy’s forehead. Bendy flinched away, curling tighter into himself. The little devil suddenly seemed very small.

Henry quietly shushed him and continued mopping up his clammy forehead, swiping it in long, gentle strokes. Slowly but surely, Bendy’s hands began to unclench, his brow starting to dry. His face refused to give an inch, his whines only becoming more anguished.

“….mmm…jo….ey?” Bendy breathed.

Henry’s chest seized. He lost his voice, but only for a moment.

“Nah… no, half pint,” said Henry, all the gruff and bite leaving it as he spoke softly to the little devil. “S’just me.”

A pause. Bendy shifted, shut eyes seeming to relax a fraction. “….old m’n?” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s old grouchy me,” said Henry, wanting to laugh. “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

“…stay’ere th’s time… kay?” said Bendy. His face finally relaxed.

Henry stopped mopping.

All at once, Henry faintly remembered something very striking. Something very specific. When he was a young lad, he’d become sick with pneumonia, and despite all his aching and griping and being a pain, his mother had dropped everything— work, her book club, volunteering at the library— to sit at his bedside for almost a whole three-day weekend. It had almost made up for being sick while school was out. And while he was sick, she read him stories. Treasure Island and Huck Finn. He never remembered thanking her for it, but he did remember drawing James Hawkins fighting Captain Long John Silver. She’d tacked up his drawing on the fridge with a green magnet and never took it down. She smiled for weeks on end after getting that gift.

He thought about that memory— that old smile she had where the edges of her eyes crinkled at the edges, and her teeth shown and she wheezed out a quiet laugh.

Seeing Bendy go back to slumbering peacefully, he could only wonder… Had this been how she felt while he was growing up?

A tightness settled in Henry’s chest and a whole different ache fell over on him. It wasn’t an entirely new realization, one he’d been grappling with ever since Boris had shakily asked Henry if he really meant they’d all escape with the animator. Ever since he’d found Bendy blindly running from his own solemn doppleganger. Ever since He’d told Bendy that he was his own story’s protagonist.

He was responsible for these three now.

Now, that wasn’t to say that Henry was irresponsible. He was a hard working, a dependable man of routine, and could even come handy in a pinch. 

But this was different. This was new. This was terrifying.

He was an old, bitter man. No living family left to speak of. Well on his way over the hill. Never had a thought in his mind about marriage or kids of his own, often only keeping his focus on staying alive, both during and after the war. Hell, he never even thought he’d set foot near an animation desk again before heading off to see Gabriel’s pearly gates (if he was that lucky). And yet, here he was, with three cartoons dropped in his lap. Who probably wouldn’t be able to handle living in the real world yet. Who probably shouldn’t be sharing a tiny bed in the middle of a run down apartment on the ass-end of a filthy city.

What could an angry old man with a tiny apartment and hardly anything to his name do for them?

“mmm… h’nry?” Bendy whined. Henry snapped out of his quiet, rising panic, stifling a yelp.

“S-still here,” he managed, feeling his voice crack.

“good…” Bendy relaxed against the pillow, completely at ease. Completely trusting.

The tightness in Henry’s chest finally unfurled, and his eyes felt a slight sting. He covered his mouth to muffle a deep, shaky sigh. Bendy had complete and utter trust in him. Was that a good thing? Did Henry deserve it? In spite of all that had happened these past few days, he suddenly didn’t feel so sure.

But… this was his chance right? He was supposed to figure things out now, wasn’t he? He felt so unprepared, like he’d been thrown out in No Man’s Land all over again.

But then again… this wasn’t like the war. Or the studio. Things were on his turf. If anyone should’ve felt like fish out of water, it was the Toons. He was the one with the knowledge of how the real world worked, how colors looked and how real sunlight felt on your skin.

He had to be there for them. He was going to be there for them. 

They were all he had now. 

Feeling more tired than ever, Henry stood from his seat as quietly as he could. He quickly grabbed Alice’s halo, just before it could teeter another centimeter and drop onto her nose, and after giving it a quick polish with his handkerchief, he set it on top of the bedside lamp, perfectly centered. He set to work on the blankets, adjusting it to be spread out evenly between the three of them— he left Boris’s feet sticking out, finding the silly sleeping position suited the wolf— and tucked them all in. It wasn’t the best, rough around the edges, and the blanket was lopsided. But Bendy re-curled around, snoring softly and facing Alice. Her head lolled, and she in turn nestled comfortably atop Bendy’s horns. Boris snuffled and licked his snout before settling more deeply against the pillow. They all seemed to just… fit together. Like puzzle pieces.

Henry felt that unfurling feeling return, and he quickly wiped his face.

Despite being exhausted, he hardly felt like returning to the lump couch. He returned to Bendy’s side of the bed, and took a seat. He knew his neck and back were going to kill him tomorrow, but he could worry about that later. He had more important matters to worry about.

Like making sure the other three got the best-damned night’s sleep they ever got. He wasn’t about to let their first night in the real world be a sorry one.

Tomorrow was going to be the roughest day of his life, and yet, somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to mind it.

I AM ACTUALLY SITTING HERE WIPING TEARS FROM MY EYES, GIRL

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.  I LOVE THIS.  I LOVE THIS SO, SO MUCH; YOU HAVE A LOVELY WRITING STYLE HOLY SMOKES.

stan the man and mike fall in love and become an iconic power couple, sorry i don’t make the rules:

-they initially bond over their mutual fear of disappointing their fathers (or grandfather) and once the bond is made, it’s unbreakable

-stan will often come over and the two boys will just lie on the grass behind the barn and make up stories to take their minds off of whatever’s going on thats upsetting one or the other  

-their first kiss is when they’re on the grass and stan is rambling off a story about an animal ghost town living among them, mocking their human ways, when mike put his hand in stan’s hair and leaned in

-stan was frozen for about five seconds and mike was just about to pull away when he felt a hand on his face and insistent lips on his own

-they become inseparable after that, and it doesn’t take too long for the rest of the losers to find out

-richie is the first to find out. he will go to his grave insisting that “his gaydar is the high quality shit” but really he saw them holding hands at one of the losers club movie nights

-eddie is next because “guys you have to let me tell eddie! he’s gonna be so psyched that we’re not the only couple in the group! please please plea-” 

-they tell the rest of the club and no one is particularly surprised. everyones happy they’re happy

-they are definitely the Old Married Couple, everyone comes to them for advice

-stan brings out the snark in an otherwise quiet mike and mike brings out the soft in an otherwise rigid stan. the losers club is shook when they see how soft stan is around mike 

-they’re just totally in love and fully respect and understand each other?? 

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

anonymous asked:

hey, i don't know if you write smut, but in honor of the leaked scene, could you write a established!bughead drabble, where he climbs her window and is all flirty? (doesn't have to be smut tho, just a hot make out).. i love your writing btw

(Okay, a little disclaimer. First of all, this is not full on smut, it’s just a hot, slightly smutty make out. Second of all, I didn’t make it full on smut, not because I didn’t want to (believe me Cole tempts me to sin and sin badly) but because I didn’t feel that Bughead’s first time would be like that and I didn’t want to write a random smut without first writing about Jughead not being sure about his sexuality and him and Betty generally testing the waters and all of the other normal things teenagers go through. I intend to write something like that because, asexual Jughead or not, Betty and Jughead are two teens that have a natural naivety and a mutual respect to one another so I believe that, as we saw in the kiss too, they would be timid and taking their time with exploring what they are comfortable with and testing their limits. So I left that for another one-shot. As for the part that Jughead might be asexual. I respect that and I’m not trying to erase anything of his (possible) character here. For what I have read and heard from other ace people and friends, yes, he can still be asexual. Asexuality is a sexual orientation, sexual behavior does not change that. Like every other sexuality it has subcategories; the “I dislike sex”, the “I find it ok, but I do not engage in it often”, the “I’m asexual but my partner makes me feel good” etc.  In my mind, as I became older and kept reading the comics and understanding more about sexuality and educating myself on the topic, Jughead fell to the third category for me. That he was being somebody with maybe a lower level of sexual interest but with sexual drive nontheless. So that’s what I have in my mind while watching Riverdale and writing this one-shot and the possible others that will revolve around this topic in the future.

Sorry that was so long, I just wanted to set some things straight and by all means I’m not trying to offend anybody. Everybody ships what they want to ship and that’s perfectly ok! Ship wars are just tiring and pointless so everybody stay calm and respect everyone’s opinions. And if Jughead does end up being asexual with no need to engage in any sexual activities then sure, everyone should be again perfectly ok and not bitch and moan that he won’t get to have steamy scenes or anything. He is still going to be the most amazing guy in Rivedale either way! 

End of my huge rant!! Hope you enjoy guys!! <3)


 Is your mom finally asleep?

I think so yeah. Why?

I’m coming up ;)

Betty locked her phone and shot up from her bed, abandoning her worn-out copy of Wuthering Heights pages first on the mattress and kicking her covers, a nervous excitement pouring down on her belly as she heard the familiar crack of careful footsteps on wood. She gave herself a quick once over on her vanity mirror, checking that her messy bun was intact and straightening her plain white t-shirt, before kicking off her bunny printed fuzzy socks of her feet and throwing them under her bed in a hurry. It wasn’t the fact that he wouldn’t appreciate them, he would and he would probably offer her that chuckle of his that set free a million butterflies inside her chest, but her toe nails were painted a lovely baby pink and it was a shame not to show them off, even though his focus would be on other places, more important ones. She felt her cheeks heating at that and she quickly grabbed her strawberry lip balm from her nightstand, applying some on her already soft lips with her ring finger, knowing that this taste mixed with her own always drove him crazy.

Since that day that Jughead had climbed up her window so for her to complain to him about her parents and her family situation, it seemed that this became a thing for them. At first, he was just sneaking up because they needed a quiet place to discuss investigation plans and theories, the office hours of Blue & Gold proving not to be enough. Now, two months after, the raven haired boy used that ladder almost every night to see his beautiful girlfriend, cuddle with her and watch movies and most importantly kiss her like she was the heavenly droplets of water on his always thirsty lips.

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anonymous asked:

Hey can you please write a hc about Isak hiding his face by hugging Even cause he's embarrassed ? Thx !!

okay SO

isak has a hard time letting go when he’s dancing, he remains pretty stiff, mostly just bobs his head to the music. it’s just. it’s not fun, it’s something he’d force himself to do at parties, dancing with girls and trying to play and look cool. and the thing is that he doesn’t really dance at parties since he’s with even, because even would never force him to, and it’s been a while since he’s cared about what people think of him, about looking cool 

but the thing is that even wants to dance with isak. even loves to dance, he’ll often put on a song while they’re in their room or in the kitchen and just start dancing and singing along. and one day isak is sitting on the couch under even’s loft bed, his notes on his lap, and even puts on fy faen by hkeem and he starts dancing, smiling wide at isak. and isak keeps looking down at his notes, pretends not to smile, but then even comes and grabs his hand and tells him “baby come on” and isak frees his hand from even’s hold, tells him “i’m studying” and even shakes his head but keeps moving to the rhythm of the song, tells him “you’ve been studying all afternoon”. and he grabs isak’s hand and pulls harder, lifting him up, isak’s notes falling to the ground, isak ending up pretty much pressed against even 

and even puts his arms around isak’s neck, whispers “hey you,” and isak can’t help but smile a little at that. but he’s still not really moving, not letting himself go, and then the song is ending and he shrugs, says “oh well, that’s too bad!” and he leans in to kiss even, expecting him to stop dancing, but the song just starts again. and even breathes out a laughter, says “i put it on repeat” and isak whines, tells even “i’m so bad at this”. and even shakes his head, whispers “you’re so good at this, you just need to let go. no one’s watching us, just move with me” and as he says that, his hands go down to his hips, and he starts making isak move the same way he is, and isak finally. starts moving by himself and even’s hands are simply placed on his hips, not guiding him anymore, just as a way to feel closer to him. it’s nice, moving together and kissing each other and smiling into the kisses. it’s  fun and sexy and warm and even thinks to himself that he could do this all day long, that dancing alone is nice, but it’s nothing compared to dancing with isak 

that is until even’s mom opens the door of his room, letting him know that diner was ready. and isak freezes, eyes wide, and mouths “oh my god”. and even chuckles, says “oops”. isak remains motionless, speechless for a few seconds until he lets out a little wail, buries his face against his shoulder, and he starts mumbling all sorts of things, from “i can’t believe your mom saw us dancing like that” to “this was the worst idea ever” to “i’m never dancing ever again. nope, nope, never again in my entire life”. and even simply wraps his arms around him, trying not to laugh, telling him “you’re totally dancing with me again, baby, tomorrow you’ll be dancing with me” 

they’re at a party the next day. and fy faen starts playing again, and even looks at isak wtih a grin, and isak just mouths “no”, but then even is asking sana, whom isak was hanging out with, “do you mind if i borrow him for a bit?” and sana raises an eyebrow, but her and even share a knowing smile. and isak lets out a sigh, and he actually takes even’s hand. and even kisses him softly before they start dancing, like they were yesterday, same movements, same song, and feeling like they alone in this room. and isak looks into even’s eyes and even thinks that what he loves the most about this moment is not the fact that he gets to be so close to isak and dance with him, but rather the fact that isak really seems to enjoy himself. because that spark in isak’s eyes is one of his favourite sights in the world. and when isak buries his face in his neck, he doesn’t do it because he’s embarrassed this time. he simply breathes even in, smiles against his skin 

The Remix (M)

“This studio is soundproof, be as loud as you can Baby, we need those moans for the next song.”

GENRE: Filthy smut, fuckboy Lee Jooheon
(y’all be warned, he’s really not nice lmao)


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