it stops short; writes it off

Maybe I’m thinking too much
Maybe I should stop
Maybe it’s not healthy
Maybe it’s not easy
Maybe I should turn it off
If only I could turn it off
Long enough to make it stop
—  t.m.

i’m imagining fake ah crew jeremy joining the crew shortly after graduating high school and after a couple years deciding he wants to take some college courses part time because he’s interested in music and art and all sorts of shit and now he’s got the money to pursue that

he’s nervous about mentioning it to geoff and the others because what if they’re not cool with me skipping out on some jobs to do this

but instead everyone is actually super encouraging and somehow that is ten thousand times worse

  • like jeremy shows up for a heist briefing and jack’s like “what the hell are you doing here, you have a paper due in the morning, get out, go work on it”
  • he gets a c on a project and ryan very calmly suggests that he can “go have a chat” with his professor, ryan no, why do you have a bat
  • he registers late and there isn’t room in a couple courses he wanted; twenty minutes later gavin cheerfully lets him know that there was a database error and suddenly there’s plenty of room in those courses, how about that
  • geoff picks him up from campus right before they’re ready to do a heist. 
    some kid: who’s the dude yelling in the yellow booty shorts on the motorcycle?
    jeremy, covering his face with his hands: that. would be my boss.
  • michael calls him and tells him he’ll be there to pick him up in a couple minutes
    jeremy: are those…sirens in the background?
    michael: yeah, i can’t actually stop, how do you feel about jumping in through the window while i’m going like thirty miles an hour
  • eventually jeremy’s like the kid in middle school embarrassed to be seen with his mom. “just– you can just drop me off at the corner, actually, right here’s fine, i’ll walk”
A Note From Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance's breakup if you haven't read it yet

A note from Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance’s breakup:

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.

[[/MORE]]

It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.

The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.

My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013

We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-

Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.

Fatalism.

That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.

To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.

I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-

When it’s time, we stop.

It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.

You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.

Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.

There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…

I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.

The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.

All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.

What it said is between me and the voice.

I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.

Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.

There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-

That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?

With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.

And another opens-

This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.

He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-

“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.

When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.

I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.

In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.

I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-

Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.

Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-

My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.

Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.

Love,
Gerard

Creative Control

The shadowy figure stalked the cells. Flame torches lit the otherwise dim prison and they flickered slightly as he walked past them. They clutched at a well worn journal tightly as they walked along the corridor, their footsteps echoed off the stone walls. They paced up and down the narrow path before pausing. The only sound they could hear was his own breathing and the crackle of the flames. Perfect. They could think clearly now. They opened the journal and flicked through the pages. Their mind wondered through what was already written.
“You guys are unusually quiet tonight” he said to no one in particular, not looking up from his book. He smiled when he heard the rattle of chains coming from the furthest cell.
“Bastard” came a low mumble from within it. The figure stepped towards the voice.

Inside the cell sat a man with a pink moustache. The hair on the top of head was the same colour with black on the sides. He wore grey trousers and a cream coloured shirt which was slightly creased from where he had been sitting. A bright pink bowtie finished off his look. The chains on his wrists clanged again as the person they were bound to walked towards the bars. They tightened a few feet away, the man let out a frustrated growl and clenched his fists. He shot a threatening look towards the person outside the cell as he made a mighty effort to reach the bars.
The figure calmly took a pen out of his pocket and started to write in the journal.
The person in the cell let out a gasp as the chains tightened around his wrists. They shortened and dragged him back.
“Stop!” They cried. “I’ll keep my distance”
The figure stopped writing.
“There you go, Wilford” he said “You’re learning” he continued to write.
The one the figure called Wilford said nothing as the chains loosened slightly around his wrists, instead they turned their back on the figure, shoulders slumped in defeat.
“You’ve made me too weak” Wilford said, there was a drawl to his accent.
“Don’t worry, Wilford. I’m sure I can make Mark come up with something. I see you fading. You haven’t been out to see the fans since Valentines day. I’ll fix that soon”

A low chuckle came from another cell. The figure grinned when he heard it. It came from his favourite prisoner. He gripped his pen tightly as he approached the cell. Inside was adorned with an antique desk with an elegant chair. The top of the desk was polished and it shined in the torchlight. A man who could nearly match the figure’s looming presence was leaning on the desk, head bowed and arms folded. He wore a tailor made suit that was immaculately pressed. He didn’t seem too bothered about the chains around his ankles.
“Got something to say, Dark?” asked the figure.
Dark raised his head, a confident smirk greeted the figure’s sight.
“Nothing for you to worry about” he said, his voice was deep and had a subtle roughness to it.
The figure twirled the pen in his fingers.
“Did you like your latest appearance? It took me a while to work out how write you in to that video.”
The smirk on Dark’s face faltered. He glared at the figure.
“It was too short” he said, bluntly.
The figure scoffed.
“I’m not stupid, Dark. Too much air time for you would be dangerous for Mark, don’t you think?”
“He fears me”
“Don’t flatter yourself. The fans give you that power”
“At least they’ve heard of me” countered Dark “Most of them don’t even know of your existence” taunted Dark.

The figure leaned in closer to the bars of the cell.
“And I’d like to keep it that way” he whispered. “The only person who needs to care about my existence is Mark. The fool still thinks he made me up but we all know the truth, don’t we?” He watched as Dark’s expression hardened.
“You’ll slip up one day” growled Dark “and when you do, I’ll take my rightful place as the guard and I’ll make you suffer”
The figure chuckled. He liked having one of his prisoners showing a bit of fight in them and Dark was the perfect entity to have conversations with. He wrote down a few sentences in the book.
Dark felt reality shifting around him but stayed calm. He knew the person was manipulating something about his existence but had enough wit about him to resist a tiny fraction of his influence. He grunted as he felt pressure within his chest. He knelt down to keep from falling.
“You’re one of my favourite creations, Dark. But I need to dampen that desire for revenge.”
Dark let out a shaky breath.
“Of course” he said before shaking out of his submissive mindset. The figure smiled once more before walking off. Dark seethed, he hated this situation but knew he would have to bide his time. Relying on the fans’ desire to see him angered him but they were necessary to his plan to one day escape.

The person stopped in front of the last cell.
“And how are you feeling tonight, Google?”
The cell lit up in an instant, the walls were illuminated with a bright, white light. Another man who sat in the middle snapped his head up and stood up straight. He wore a pair of black jeans and a blue t-shirt with a glowing white G adorning the front. His glasses shined in the light
“I do not feel anything, creator. Would you like me to add emotion to my database?” His voice had a robotic tone to it.
“No need, Google. I can do that from here” said the figure, pointing to his book. “The fans seem to like you.”
“Thank you creator. I seemed to have had an energy spike in my code which lasted nearly seventy hours after you let me out. I am still running a data analysis to process what to do with this information and will be coming to a conclusion shortly.”
“No need” mumbled the figure, quickly jotting down a few lines in the book.
Google immediately stopped. He looked frozen in time.
“Close one” said the figure. “I’ll have to keep him away for a while.” He finished writing and saw google come back to life. “Put yourself on sleep mode, Google.”
Google gave a short nod and went back to sitting down. The lights flickered off and the cell was in darkness once more.

The figure snapped the book shut and put the pen back into his pocket. He surveyed the cells and contemplated making new creations before dismissing the thought. Darkipler, Wilford Warftstach and Googlplier were all he needed for the time being.
“That’ll do for now.” He stretched out his arms and yawned. His connection with Mark was strong. “Seems Mark’s getting tired. Alright, time for me to rest too then” he walked to the base of some steps which led out of the prison. “Goodnight, boys” He sighed when he didn’t get a response. “Shall I write out your demise? It’ll be easy” he waited for a second “I’ll say it again, goodnight, boys”. He grinned when heard the voices call back.
“Goodnight, Author”

My Uptown Girl *Jughead Jones x Reader*

Originally posted by betty-and-jughead

Originally posted by chaneloberlinvevo

Summary: Based off the lyrics of Billy Joel’s song Uptown Girl

Pairings Jughead x Reader


You walked around Riverdale High with a certain grace, an almost happy bounce in each of your steps. No one could mistake your smile; it always present, from the beginning of the day to the end, in fact, it got bigger on some days.

You are everything Jughead Jones The Third isn’t. You are happy, wholesome and sweet, caring and good. You came from a well-to-do family, wealthy and snobby, yet you weren’t like your parents. You were nice to everyone you met, you are the popular girl without the hateful stigma behind it. Despite that you weren’t allowed to hang around with any old riff-raff, your parents set standards or guidelines and even managed who your friends were, for obvious reasons Cheryl is your closest friend.

Jughead was no exception of the love everyone had for you; Riverdale’s sweetheart. He fell for you like many other guys, he didn’t want to, but it happened over time. You somehow wormed your way into his heart. He set up this demeanour that he was brooding, unable to receive let alone give love to someone, and from the moment you came back from spring break he knew he was in trouble.

If people knew he even had a crush on you everything he built up would be gone. His ‘tough’ exterior would be gone because of you!

“You’re staring at her again,” Archie’s voice sounded from behind Jughead; the beanie wearing boy jumped, slightly glaring over his shoulder at the red-head. “Why don’t you just go over and ask her out?”

Jughead scoffed and went back to watching you, like a creep, he knew that. “I can’t, you wouldn’t understand!” He pushed off the wall of lockers, turning to look at Archie who was searching through his own.

“What’s to understand?” Jughead rolled his eyes, “Seriously, I don’t get it.”

“We’re two different people, Archie.” Archie rolled his dark eyes, “She’s from the uptown, where the rich live and I’m… well, let’s just say my family isn’t exactly respected. Y/N, she’s-”

“-Nice?” Archie cut off. “She isn’t interested in anyone’s home or family line, you know that. In fact, if anyone is able to entice her it’s you,” his friend smiled and patted his shoulder.

Jug sighed, “She’s never had a boyfriend, let alone a guy like me ask her out. She’s living in this clean bubble, she shouldn’t get involved with someone like me.” Jughead shrugged, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as Archie shuts his locker.

“You’re so dramatic,” Archie exhaled, “if she doesn’t know you like her, then she doesn’t have the choice of dating someone like you. Who by the way, is a decent guy and intelligent, with a twisted sense of humour but is a loyal friend.”

Before Jughead can sarcastically wit his friend, the rest of the scooby gang shows up. “Whoever is writing Archie’s speeches; I need their number.” Veronica grinned, standing between the two boys with Kevin at her left and Betty to her right. “What locker conversations are you two having?”

Jughead gives a look to Archie, who completely misses it. “Talking about Jug’s crush,” that makes Veronica’s eyes go wide and look at the glaring teen. “Yeah, on Y/N, I told him to go over and talk to her but apparently Jug here is living on social platforms now.” Archie shrugged at his best friend’s glare.

“Juggie, you are so in Y/N league.” Betty comforts to which Jughead scoffs at his friend, who gives him a challenging look.

“Actually,” Kevin pipes up, “I heard Y/N is growing tired of her high-class toys and all the attention from the uptown boys.” He shrugs as Jug frowns, “What I’m saying is, maybe, you’ve got a slim chance if she’s willing to make a choice for a guy of such… standards as yourself.” Jug gives a mock smile to Keller who doesn’t seem fazed.

Veronica smiles, “See, you have a chance. Betty was right, Kevin has the inside scoop and Archiekins gave you the pep talk,” Jughead raised his eyebrows. “And I’m threatening you, if you don’t go over there and talk to her, I’ll personally cut up that precious beanie of yours!” Jug sighed and nodded, making the raven-haired girl clap as he trudges over to you.

He glares over his shoulder as he friends all huddled together, watching from afar. As he walks over to you, he watches as you bring out various different school books from your locker, tucking a lock of you (Y/H/C) behind your ear, smiling as Jug stops a little short of you. It’s silent for a moment as Jughead thinks of what to say, only you beat him to it.

“Jones, what do I owe the pleasure?” You grin, moving the three textbooks to be cradled in your left arm as you shut your locker, your white cardigan delicately hanging off your shoulders. “I heard your writing for the Blue and Gold with Cooper, am I being interviewed because I campaigned for more vegetarian options?” He chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“Actually, no, not about your recent campaign.” You chuckled and nodded, “I just…” He stopped and studied you for a moment, he really liked you, truly he did. But he couldn’t compare to the guys wanting you also, the guys who could offer to give you the nice things you’re wearing. He didn’t care if he embarrassed himself with the potential rejection, he couldn’t live with himself if the entire school, town, mocked you for having him as your boyfriend. “Wondered… did we get any Science homework?”

You let out a little sigh, a small frown coming upon your face that he watched quickly get concealed by another bright smile. “Yeah, we got Chem, want me to give you notes?”

“Uh, no, it’s fine… I’ll ask Betty,” you nodded and watched him waiting for something else to be said but it wasn’t. He just nodded and stalked down the hallway, head bowed and shoulders tensed as he turned a corner, you frowned at his odd behaviour; he wasn’t any different from the usual, although, he never asked you about homework.

Shrugging, turning and bumping into Veronica Lodge, you smiled an apology. “Hey, Y/N, what was Jughead just talking to you about?” You frowned a little, why did Veronica wanna know that?

“Uh, asking if we had any science homework… why?”

Veronica let out a frustrated sigh, “That idiot. He’s not so tough,” you were frowning more by the minute as she talked, “and you’re more oblivious than I thought you’d be!”

“Excuse me?” You asked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am not oblivious, Jughead just wanted to know an answer to a simple question.”

“That he could have gotten from Betty,” you snapped your mouth shut, “He’ll hate me for spilling his well-kept secret but he likes you.” You chuckled, Jughead never liked anyone, did he? “Laugh all you want, it’s funny having people like him adore you, I’d know from experience but… maybe consider him?” The bell rings before you can question or say anything, Veronica shrugs and smiles at you before leaving, “Jughead, although savvy with words through writing, isn’t so when expressing them outwardly.”

*Pop’s Diner: Next Day*

“You didn’t tell her,” Veronica stated again as she sat down in the booth directly opposite him. Archie on his left and Kevin sliding in beside Veronica, Betty squeezing herself in beside Keller. “I thought you were gonna tell her?”

Jug rolled his green eyes, “No, you said to go over and talk to her,” he pointed out. “I did exactly that, it was a pleasant conversation if I do say so myself.” Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Why is it so difficult to admit you like her, to her?” Archie asked.

“Cause that’s a very straight guy thing,” Kevin sips his strawberry milkshake, answering for Jughead and receiving a less than impressed look from Archie.

Jughead sighed, “Because I can’t afford to do stuff like dating or gifts, I lost my job and maybe, even if I get another job I still wouldn’t be able to buy her all the things she likes.” His voice getting more agitated.

The table becomes quiet as Jug leans back against the booth, folding his arms and looking out the window. Betty ends the silence by talking to Archie about his music, everyone allowing Jughead to be in his head, but not leaving him alone. If he truly wanted to be alone he would have jumped over the back and left, he didn’t do that.

From looking out the window he notices you, tentatively walking towards the diner. He hadn’t seen you… ever in Pop’s, not without Cheryl or maybe, a few other River Vixens. You were dressed in a dark blue coat, unbuttoned, showing the pink sweater underneath plus jeans. He frowns when you notice him in the window, making a gesture for him to meet you outside. He hops over the booth; pushing the diner door open and walking out into the cold towards you.

“What’s up?” He frowned gently.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” You began, “if you need help with that Science homework, I can help you?” Jughead frowns at you, “Just I’m passing that class, not that I don’t think you can’t do it or fail, I just wanted to offer my assistance.” You ramble a little chuckling nervously at the end.

Jughead lowers his gaze to the floor before looking back at you, “Did one of my idiots talk to you?” You chuckled and nodded causing him to sigh out.  “Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be seen that way with me.”

“So, like my parents, you’re gonna be making decisions for me too?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, “what makes you think I give a damn what people think of me? You think I’m nice girl because it makes people like me? No, I’m nice because that’s just me.” You explain smiling a little up at him.

He shakes his head a little, the little amount of dark hair falling into his face as he towers over you. “We’re two vastly different people, you know that, right?”

You chuckled, “Sometimes you love someone because of the reasons they’re not like you!”

The air is thick around you both, you were waiting for Jug to say something but he had no words nor thoughts to what you said. It’s how he felt; he loved you for all the reasons you were different to him.

“I get that this might seem like some, stupid, uptown girl bullshit to you. I’m rebelling against my parents or something by dating you, it’s not. I just… you’re you, you know? This broody, writer type, that would laugh at this cliche.” He chuckled at that, “Then Veronica told me, kinda made it clear and just, I came here hoping…”

“That you’d help with my science homework?” You sighed and chuckled, nodding. “Well, I finished it,” you frowned as he smiled, “so, more time for burgers and fries, right?”

You followed him into the diner, a little in front as you walked to a booth, turning in time to see his friends give Jug supportive thumbs up. You grinned as he slid in opposite you.

“What about your parents?” Jug asked with a little frown, resting his arms on the table, leaning a little in and you mimicked his posture with a grin.

“Screw them,” you added an eye roll for dramaticness.

He huffed a chuckle. “I’m already causing a bad influence on you,” he amused as you smiled, adding a little half-shrug.

“You can’t be that bad of influence cause you’re in love with an uptown girl,” you point out.

Jug exhales through his nose, giving you a look. He leans forward a little, table edge digging into his torso but he doesn’t care, he connects his lips with yours in a short but sweet kiss. It’s like everything he hates about romance novels suddenly make sense, the butterflies and ‘fireworks’ suddenly happen, he curses himself for letting this happen to him. His heart racing, he pulls back a little and looks at you, you’re smiling with a faint blush.

“So, what can I get my uptown girl?” He nods to the menu, “I get any milkshake flavours on the house, by the way.” He adds with a mocking cocky smirk.

You laughed, “Well, if dating you means on the house milkshakes then I’m your girl,” He chuckled with a slight blush of his own at that.

(Hope people enjoy this. My dad was singing this as he cooked and I thought instantly, this is a Jug type song and I had to write it! Let me know what you think. - Ro)


I tagged people from Five Hundred Words, the next part will be posted Saturday (figured you’d guys would like this): @caitsymichelle13 @gurliest @florenceivy @katshrev @thelastxgoodthing @merrahonthawall @idkmilla @tinastark2015 @oh-balls-you-idjits @imahuricane 

Things Never Changed

Group: Got7

Member: Mark Tuan

Pairing: member x reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2739

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Okay so I’m slowly becoming Got7 trash thanks to @fortheloveofsuga (fuck you for giving me “feelings”) so I was compelled to write something for them. I just kinda wrote this at like 3am on my phone and debated on whether not to post it, but I decided I would. :) 

@seokvie @gotsinvn @mark-myass (i know y’all appreciate Got7 so here ya go *insert side eye emoji*)

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There’s an old philosophy that says “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. The sentiment seems beautiful. Poetic, even. The thought that your absence from someone’s life will be an ever-present hollowness that makes it nearly impossible to complete simple daily tasks–the constant memory of the one you love dancing along the edges of your mind, just barely out of reach from your shaking and nostalgic fingers. The deep and meaningful love a connection that is blatant and comforting and unwavering, even with thousands of miles of ocean separating you. Poetic, indeed.

But it’s just not realistic.

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Title: Better Off Beautiful
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Peter Maximoff x Reader
Warnings: Self-hatred
Word Count: 1,090
Notes: Request from anon for “Helloooooooooo! I love your blog! I was wondering if you could write a Peter Maximoff fic based off ‘Better Off Dead’ by Sleeping With Sirens where the reader seriously (COMPLETELY) hates herslef and one day Peter just finds a notebook in her room where she has a long-ass list of things to hate about herself? Its a bit weird but could you maybe write this? Tysm!!😙😙” // Always remember that you should work towards loving yourself entirely on your own, rather than wishing for someone to come along and make it so. Everyone is beautiful and perfect in their own way, regardless of the opinions of others. I really hope this fic made you feel a bit better, but please remember that you must love yourself first and foremost. ♥

Originally posted by quicksilver-gifs

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Okay so, if you have ever had the misfortune of being in chat with me on the topic of Assassination Classroom you would know I have a very strong belief of gay Karma and demi/pan Nagisa.

Now I was ecstatic to learn they were making the KorosenseQ spin off an actual series (Which is very likely the story Korosensei mentions in passing in the main series he wants to write in which he wouldn’t have to die and therefore is more than likely written by the octopus himself) anyway back on track, while the series seems to have diverged a bit from the comic now (tbh I think they made it better especially pope Gakuho omfg) but with the episodes being so short it means they emphasize certain things while cut other things out.

Trying to stop rambling now the thing that’s really caught my attention is the relationship between Karma and Nagisa (this is 100% a ship post if this is your notp then please stop reading now, if you do ship it or at least tolerate feel free to continue) and since @serenity0220 likes my analysis of these dumb boys so much figured eh what the hell lets post what I noticed in this episode.

Spoilers blow the cut turn back if you haven’t watched the episode yet.

Excuse the lack of spell check I’m literally copy pasting this from my skype chat.

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walking with him │ naruto

title: walking with him
pairing: naruhina
summary: after months without any alone time or anytime together at all it seems, the couple decides to take a walk.
notes: i did the thing. (side-note: sorry it’s taken me months to write anything, i hope this makes up for it. i’m so rusty….)


“Hinata! Wait up!” He was running after her, sweat forming in sticky droplets on his forehead and cascading down his back making his orange shirt cling uncomfortably against his skin.

She was yards ahead of him, too giddy with excitement to stop and wait for him. It had been months since they’ve had time together. Often he didn’t come home to sleep, instead he’d spend weeks in the Hokage’s office reading scrolls and taking food cold because he’d forget it was there. 

So today was special.

A whole twenty-four hours dedicated to spending time together. Iruka agreed to watch Boruto and Himawari after Hinata mercilessly guilt tripped him offering her best puppy dog eyes. A bit out of character for her often shy and non-pushy personality. He agreed nonetheless, a tight lipped smile as he did. 

Hinata stopped, grinning while placing her hands behind her back. Her husband looked out of breath, beat, and disgruntled but otherwise still as gleeful as she hoped he was. 

“Sorry Naruto, I’m just so excited to finally be here with you.” She offered her hand which he took. It was cool to the touch and filled him with butterflies. After years of marriage he still felt this way about her. His stomach doing backflips and frontflips. He’d never get over her. 

A goofy grin spread against his face and she was pretty sure there was still a piece of basil stuck in his teeth from their ramen lunch date earlier. “Are you ready?” He asked looking down at her an taking in the pale beauty of her eyes. 

She nodded squeezing his hand and taking a step forward in the direction of the trail. 

Today they decided to take a walk around the lake. It was a public trail so naturally there were other people on it. Some even stopping by to great the Hokage and his wife or just smiling in their direction. It was nice but they made sure conversations didn’t last longer than they should. The sun was high over head and the that days air was humid. The day before it rained, so small puddles of water filled small dips in the trail and it became almost like a game trying to avoid them all and occasionally they’d laugh coming out with wet feet because someone lost their balance. 

Around them the trees were in full bloom and neither of them had really seem the trees this green before. It was almost magical with the light breeze shaking the branches making the leaves fall in a melodic like dance to the ground. It was fresh, the air cleaner than it was deeper into the city. Kind of like a paradise in its own way. And the water, green in color but crystal clear when you stopped to look at it as they were now. Across from them on the other side of the lake children played. Splashing, and daring each other to try and walk on the water and then laughing when their chakra didn’t work right and in the plunged into the cold depths. 

Next to her Naruto chuckled and she reached up to place a gentle hand against his cheek. Blue eyes shown down at her and blond brows raise in wonder. “Yes, love?” 

Her eyes grew soft. “Thank you for walking with me today. For all of today.” 

“Of course. I would walk with you everyday if I could.” His lips touched the side of hand, sending chills through her body. 

“Even now you still send my head spinning Uzumaki Naruto.” Her hand returned to his while she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes.

He leaned down, fingers tangling in hers, and lips crept closer to hers. “I plan to always do that, Uzumaki HInata.” 

Their lips touched, pleasure rolled through their bodies making them calm. Like months of near separation never happened. Sure they had kissed before this, but this one was perfect. It was a rushed goodbye kiss, or a goodnight kiss. It was a no matter what happens, how long they’re apart, or how much they see each other, they would still find a way to give each other the same feelings like it was the first time. 

It was a slow kiss, one that made people stop and stare or blush from second hand embarrassment. His hands were on either side of her face, dipping her body, pushing her abdomen into his and nearly knocking her off her feet. And then it was over and she had stars in her eyes and he wanted more. 

“I love you.” He said against her lips, stealing another kiss. 

She flushed. “I love you too.”

Perhaps they’d go on another walk.

The Marauders as the Parent Friend

Marauders as Parent Friends I always hear everyone talking about how one or another Marauder is a parent friend, but I sort of think they all are in their own way. Sirius will always look after the other boys if they’re sick or injured. Too many times Remus has come back from the hospital wing trying to hide an injury, and Sirius know what that looks like and knows what happens if it’s not treated, so he keeps a small med kit under his bad and stops short of tying Remus to his bed to patch him up. When James had a cold but refused to go to the hospital wing, Sirius hauled him back to Gryffindor Tower by the ear and spoon fed him chicken soup he’d snuck from the kitchen, writing a letter to Euphemia afterwards asking her to give James and earful. When some nasty Slytherin’s were trying to beat up Peter, Sirius came in and sent them off, and checked Peter over four times to make sure that he was safe, he wasn’t injured, he was fine. Remus always tried his best to make sure that the other three were feeling happy. He’d cuddled with Sirius all night the first time he’d come back from his parents after being Sorted, and neither of them mentioned it but Remus had had to throw out his sweater from all the tear stains. When Euphemia died, James sought out Remus rather then Lily, knowing that Remus would understand and would just hold him and let him cry. Whenever Peter was feeling quite down and unloved, Remus would bring him into the dormitories and would only let Peter out once he had a big smile on his face(as well as a few chocolate stains on his cheeks). He also made sure that they never pulled any pranks that were way too dangerous. The red mark on James’ shoulder from getting punched in the shoulder was almost always there, because it was the only way to get him to /shut up and listen/. Peter always made sure that the boys were well hydrated and fed, and got their schoolwork done. He’d mastered Aguamenti by second year, if only to make sure that the boys got enough water with all the talking and movement they did with their pranks. He’d also figured out how to mimic the handwriting of the other three, so that if they were too tired to write, they could at least talk and he would write down what they said. He was also ridiculously good at getting the boys to calm down. When Sirius pulled that god-awful prank and almost got Snape killed, Peter was the one who got Remus to stop throwing things at the wall. When Snape called Lily that horrible name, Peter pulled James aside and stopped him from actually killing the slime-bag. Whenever Sirius came back to school from staying with his family, him and Peter always spent multiple hours locked in a room together, with the occasional yell being heard from Sirius and hushed whispers coming from Peter, but Sirius always came out much calmer and happier. James was quite special. He’d developed good muscles from carrying the boys to bed when they stayed up too late. He had this perfect face for scolding that worked well when the boys did stupid things, and made them feel shamed. However, he always gave so, so much love. Every morning, Sirius, Peter and Remus could expect a hug and a hair ruffle(a kiss on the cheek for Sirius who had tried to deck James one too many times for “messing up my beautiful hair, you twat”). Whenever Remus came out of the hospital wing, James would greet him with a bucket of chocolate and a twinkle in his eyes as he said “You look like shit”. James and Peter had a cuddle date set for every Saturday till the day they died(which turned out to be a lot sooner then planned). James and Sirius were often found sleeping in the same bed, and on Christmas, James would share whatever sweet Euphemia, even after Euphemia started sending it to the both of them. When all four of them were piled on top of each other, tired after a long day, James would blow a raspberry on someone’s stomach and a tickle fight would ensue. James had so much love to give, and always made sure to share it with others. As Sirius watched Harry on his third year, he mourned the fact that although James had raised the Marauders, he’d never gotten to raise Harry, and share that unending love.

Ephemeral [1]

(adj.) - lasting a very short time; short lived 

Member: Namjoon 

Genre: Angst, some sort au that is tbd, romance(?) 

Words: 1.5k 

Summary: There is a man in your dreams. You don’t know what he looks like or what his name is - you only know the sound of his voice. His voice. His voice follows you where ever you go. These dreams are your only source to see him, yet these dreams feel so real. 

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my new series, Ephemeral. I know I’ve kinda left things on a bad note with Fernweh as I took it down, but hopefully you will enjoy this series. I feel much better now and I have a good feeling about this story. I hope you guys enjoy Xx 

[ two ]

Originally posted by nelliel66

“Don’t be afraid Y/N—“

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What are Ace Attorney Characters like in the original Japanese Version?

mxearthling asked me:

hello!! i found your AA “pronoun” and honorifc post in the tag and it was really interesting!! i was wondering if you could expand on blackquill, edgeworth, and klavier in particular when it comes to how they refer to themselves/what others call them? i am INSANELY curious.

This is an interesting Question I got a while back. Now that I’ve replayed some of the games AND am playing Spirit of Justice I feel more up to try and answer it. That said, I am going to go through all Ace Attorney main characters, meaning Defense Lawyers, Detectives, Assistants and Prosecutors, and will give you a profile of how they were written in Japanese, comparing it a little to the original. 

This post might be edited when I realize I misremembered something or learn something new.

That said, let’s go!

Currently on this list:

  • Phoenix Wright
  • Mia Fey
  • Maya Fey
  • Miles Edgeworth
  • Dick Gumshoe
  • Pearl Fey
  • Franziska Von Karma
  • Ema Skye
  • Kay Faraday
  • Apollo Justice
  • Trucy Wright
  • Athena Cykes
  • Klavier Gavin
  • Simon Blackquill

Phoenix Wright

Japanese Name: 成歩堂龍一(Naruhodô Ryûichi)

Japanese Name Meaning: “Naruhodô” is a pun on “Naruhodo”, a Japanese phrase akin to the English phrase “I see(what you mean).” “Ryûichi” means “Dragon”, and the ending of the name indicates that he was the firstborn son of his family. This “Dragon” is presumably what served as the inspiration for naming him “Phoenix” in the English localization. 

Refers to himself as: “Boku”, a rather soft-sounding way for men to say “I”, albeit it’s still less formal than “Watashi” would be. This makes me sound younger than a professional who would be using “Watashi”, since older men tend to prefer “Watashi” in their work life. While we’re at “Boku”, contrary to what you may have heard, women *do* use it veeeeeery rarely, albeit women using this in real life are usually seen as eccentric and odd. It’s more common for women to use it in poetic writing, though. In any case, Phoenix’ “Boku” is written in Hiragana, indicating that it sounds especially soft, hinting at his generally mild-mannered personality. 

Referred to by the Textboxes as: “Naruhodo”, with a short “o”, openly acknowledging the pun.

Referred to by others as: Maya, Pearl and Mia call him “Naruhodo-kun”, with the short “o”. Trials and Tribulations indicates that Phoenix tried to stop Mia from constantly cutting off the “O” in the end of his name, but she never did, so the punny nickname stuck. Larry and Edgeworth both call him by his last name, “Naruhodô”, without a honorific, which is common among male friends. Apollo and Athena correctly refer to him as “Naruhodô-san” (with the long “O”). Trucy calls him “Papa”, which explains the writing on his beanie. The Judge calls him “Naruhodô-kun”. Blackquil calls him “Naru-no-ji”.

His Speech-style: Somewhat casual, he does sound like a pretty typical, mild-mannered young man, using less polite forms when talking to Maya and more polite forms when talking to certain witnesses or the Judge. He uses the very common, polite “Desu-Masu” forms (which most people in Japan use when they’re talking to anyone other than their closest friends and family) a lot more frequently than a lot of other characters in the series.

Notes: Probably the character who carried over best in the translation. His averageness definitely helped.

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@vardasvapors made a good post about how, uh, filtering our relationships with a text through fandom can get really weird and dysfunctional, so I thought I’d take a (short) break from calling him a Horrible Orc Creature to talk about why Maedhros is actually a character I find really compelling. 

Someone (okay, VV again) mentioned that they enjoy how well Tolkien does double edged character traits and never is that more evident than with this dipshit no I promise to do this properly.

The most obvious place to start is duty. Or, maybe more accurately, cussedness. I hardly need to write an essay on where a refusal to stop or consider other options leads (i.e. off a cliff, into a lava pit), but it’s also important to remember where we started:

It is said indeed that Maedhros himself devised this plan [i.e. holding the front lines in a war with a godmonster that only just got done torturing him], because he was very willing that the chief peril of assault should fall upon himself.

Ouch.

Of all his brothers (…of damn near all the House of Finwe even, humility isn’t exactly a family trait), Maedhros is most able to put aside pride and personal honour in favour of accomplishing his goals. Which is pretty fucking laudable when it involves giving up the crown his father did any number of dubious deeds to secure, taking the most distant and least hospitable land available to lessen potential conflict, or laughing off Thingol’s dickwaving. His pragmatism is significantly less appealing when he’s ambushing messengers at peace talks (we tend to misremember his capture as a result of naively expecting Morgoth to honour terms when really the opposite was true; Morgoth just ambushed harder), sacking refugee camps, or taking children hostage. 

While Maedhros’ record as a war leader is shaky, he does pretty well as a diplomat. It’s hardly surprising given the likely education Finwe 3.0 received in politicking (lots) vs doing wars (none), but, like, how hard was it to maintain even the pretence of friendly relationships with Fingolfin and everyone that crossed the ice with him? How hard was it to form any kind of alliance in the aftermath of the Dagor Bragollach, with the three Cs systematically alienating everyone they crossed paths with? …never mind that, how hard was it to hold together a dying, defeated people and lead them into performing increasingly monstrous acts without a one of them faltering until the third disastrous attack on a civilian population? Does this make his increasingly desperate and utterly ineffectual letter writing campaign funnier or sadder?

Also, cause I hate myself and want to be sad, let’s talk about Estel - trust or hope in the absence of any certainty which, in Finrod’s words, “is not defeated by the ways of the world, for it does not come from experience, but from our nature and first being.” Like, how much does it cost to hold onto that in the face of, you know, the entire damn book? Well, we know the cost to other people and it’s a corpse pile so fucking high they had to update the maps. (I’m not really sure if this counts though, is it fair to call daring to hold onto hope a flaw? Would not uniting in one last attempt to overthrow Morgoth have ended any better?)

Anyway yeah, Maedhros’ most admirable qualities are also the flaws that lead, irrevocably, to monstrosity and death, and that’s a damn tragedy (in the proper greek fuck-your-mother half-cousin sense of the term)

Moonie Ch. 2

This is part two of a story about a very normal college student at a very abnormal college. @elsewhereuniversity was created by @charminglyantiquated, and I am so grateful that we can play in their world!

Read chapter one here!

Read chapter three here!


I’ve been noticing more and more strange things around campus.

Since Jenny went missing two weeks ago, this place hasn’t felt the same. Maybe I never noticed it before, or maybe things have somehow changed.

I had never paid any attention to the bottles and the sugar packets and the all-crust end slices of bread left on paper plates outside of every door. All that perfectly good food I had assumed was garbage. Now that I’m looking, I catch older students glancing at me from across the hallways. They shake their heads and avoid eye contact, dark iron jewelry dangling from their ears or necks. These were easy enough to write off as a cultural thing. I wasn’t part of the In Crowd. Whatever.

I couldn’t explain away the places where physics didn’t work right. The park benches outside of the art buildings were always in shadow, even at high noon with the sun beating down overhead. That one scale in the gym locker room has been replaced sixteen times and will never read the same weight twice. The tree by the soccer field pulls kites and footballs and frisbees to it like a nuclear-powered fun magnet. Then there was Jenny’s car. In a matter of days it had shriveled from almost new to rusted out junk. I couldn’t explain any of it. None of it should be possible.

Why had I never noticed the horns wailing and the howls of dogs at night?

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anonymous asked:

Hey! Pls write Jikook with“You know what? I don’t care!” “Stop yelling at me!” “You're an asshole." "Just get out."

a/n: hmu w some short prompt and i’ll write you smt

warning - fighting and implied past abusive relationship


jungkook isn’t sure when they started. jungkook isn’t sure when they’ll end. jungkook only knows that this hurts, and this burns, and this feels like the color red flaming inside and out, ripping his skin from off his bones and tearing the air from his lungs.

“you’re an asshole!“

you’re being irrational!“

jungkook is screaming at the top of his lungs, his volume unbridled. he isn’t sure what he and jimin are fighting about in the first place, isn’t sure why he’s so angry, or even if he really is angry.

“if i’m being so fuckin’ irrational, then you can get out. just get out!” jimin is even louder than jungkook is, frantic-looking, jabbing wildly towards the apartment door, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. jungkook resists the need to wipe them away, for whatever reason - pride, perhaps.

it’s not his choice, though. he’s been and still unwillingly working on muscle memory, face even contorting into a sneer, his mouth snarling on its own: “you know what? fine! i don’t care! i don’t fucking care anymore, jimin, i don’t give a fucking fuck! you can watch me! FUCKING WATCH ME GO, JIMIN-”

jimin grips his head, eyes screwed shut. “stop yelling at me!” he screeches, sobs. “SHUT UP!” 

jungkook hates that when jimin forces his eyes open again, they’re practically delirious, but jungkook doesn’t do anything. he is an asshole.

muscle memory, he tells himself, is what makes him throw his hands up in the air in exasperation. he notices that when his arms raise, jimin flinches and covers his face, and then jungkook’s body stutters, confused at jimin’s wariness, at the look in jimin’s eyes. jimin looks scared, as though he thinks jungkook would hurt him, as though he flinched because-

jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach. oh.

it’s not an easy topic to approach, and jungkook isn’t sure how to. but somehow all of the anger instantly dissolves from his body, the boil brought down to mere bubbles in the froth: his shoulders slump, his face softens, and his brain whirs to a standstill. jungkook feels out of his own body as he inches forward softly to where jimin is standing with his head low and tears tracking down his red eyes.

jungkook breathes shakily, his chest twisting. this is the type of stuff he’s seen on the news and on tv shows, the stuff of nightmares.

my last relationship, jimin had tentatively said when they first started dated, didn’t go so well.

jungkook can’t fully understand the situation or know everything, but he can show jimin that he loves him and that he wouldn’t hurt him - that there are still people out there like that.

jimin lets jungkook approach and wrap his arms around him, hugging him so tightly that if he squeezes any more jimin might break. 

“i’m - i’m sorry,” jungkook whispers into jimin’s ear, trying to say what he feels, because he means it, he really does. he realizes that none of that was muscle memory. all of that was him. it was all his fault. the fight, the argument, the so-called anger, his awful words. “i would never -” jungkook holds jimin closer to him. “i’m so sorry.”

jimin cries against him, and jungkook feels the wracking of his chest and body, the way the sobs ripple through him. “i know - i know you wouldn’t,” jimin sniffles, and jungkook feels both so awfully guilty and so awfully in love; he feels so sorry that he made jimin feel as he did for even a moment. “i’m sorry. that was stupid of me.”

it wasn’t, and jungkook wants to tell him so, but words have never been his thing - he’s always really been one to talk through touch, through intimacy. so jungkook holds jimin in his arms and tries to tell him that he loves him, tries to show a million things in one, and it’s okay if jimin doesn’t catch every single one right know.

jungkook would bet that jimin knows them all already.

anonymous asked:

Bughead prompt! Loved the last episode and I was wondering how Jughead would react to Betty going full dark. Maybe some overprotective!Jughead?

For sure! This is how I think it would go (and I haven’t seen the new episode yet so this is still based off 1x03). I tried to do some overprotective while not defending her actions because, haha, girl was not in her right mind.

343 words / G / AO3

-

Jughead has heard rumblings around school of how the video of Chuck happened, and is yet to find Betty to talk to her about it.

He has looked everywhere and decided to just get some work done in the Blue and Gold office. To his surprise, that is where she is.

He opens the door slowly and sees she is intently focused on an article, not even looking up when the old door squeaks.

“Betty,” he says, and she stops writing, but doesn’t look up, “you seem tense,” he winces when he notices she is gripping her pencil until her knuckles turn white. She takes a few breaths and her grip loosens, and Jughead takes a few steps closer.

“I’m just writing,” she says while putting down the pencil and looking up at Jughead, “need to take my mind off-” she stops short and looks down.

Jughead pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of the desk. Then he says, “what exactly happened? I’ve heard things,” Betty shuts her eyes at that, “but no one knows what happened, but you,” Betty opens her eyes to look at him, guilty.

He reaches across the desk to grab her hand, “the guy is an asshole,” he says, rubbing his thumb in circles in her palm to relax her.

“But I-” she starts.

“Whatever you did,” Jughead makes sure he has Betty’s attention, “don’t let it weigh on you, there’s enough crap going on in this town anyways.”

Betty nods, and Jughead tries a smile, “and if anyone tries to pick at you for information,” he says, serious, “tell them they have to go through me first,” he says in a fake mobster voice, and that makes Betty crack a smile, and even laugh.

Jughead takes that as a victory and Betty loosens up. He moves to take his hand back, but her grip tightens.

“Work right here with me,” she says, hopeful.

He agrees and they work at that one desk right across from each other for the rest of the night.

Butterflies- Andre Burakovsky

Hey lovely! Hope you enjoy xx

Requests Are Open

Anon Request: Love ur writing! Can you write a Andre burakovsky one where you meet his team and you’re kinda shy? Thanks! Lots of love<3

Warnings: none

_______________________

“Andre?” You called to your boyfriend behind you. “Which dress?”

You turned from you closet, holding out two of your favorite summer dresses.

Andre bit his lip, studying the options. “The blue,” he smiled. “It’ll looks great on you and with how hot it’s going to be today, it’ll be nice.”

You nodded and pulled the dress of the hanger. You quickly kicked off your shorts and t-shirt and slipped the dress on.

“Stop staring,” you blushed, looking at Andre out of the corner of your eye.

“But I like what I see,” the Swede smirked.

“Yeah well too bad for you buddy. We have to leave like, five minutes ago,” you grimaced as you looked at the clock. “Let’s go hot shot.”

Andre chuckled as he followed you out the door, grabbing the car keys from the side door in the hallway. Andre was right. It was extremely hot out and you were glad your dress was so light weight.

Andre sang along to the radio as he drove. It was a comforting sound, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in your stomach.

You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand instinctively, something you always did when you got nervous.

“(Y/N/N), you okay there?” Andre glanced at you.

“A little nervous,” you murmured.

You and Andre had been dating for almost four months and he had finally decided it was time you met the entire team. You had met Latta and Tom, but meeting everyone else all at once was not something you were thrilled about.

“They already love you,” Andre reassured.

“Yeah, but when they meet real life me, will they still love me?”

“Are you saying that I make you sound better than you actually are?” Andre laughed. “Because, sweet girl, let me tell you, that’s not possible.”

You giggled as you blushed again. Andre just seemed to have that effect on you.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter, ‘cuz we’re here.”

You took deep breathe as you gazed at the house. The Oshie house so beautiful and you could feel yourself to get anxious again.

“C’mon love. You’ll be fine.”

You hadn’t even realized Andre had stopped the car and gotten out. You took his out stretched hand in yours and stepped out of the car, taking more steadying steps to sooth you. Andre held your hand tightly as you walked up to the house. You hadn’t even rung the doorbell when the door swung open.

“Andre, (Y/N)!” Lauren Oshie exclaimed. What you didn’t expect was for Lauren to pull you into a hug. “I am so excited to finally meet you!”

You smiled as you hugged her back, relaxing slightly. “I’m so happy to come. Thank you for inviting me!”

“We’ve been waiting since your first date to meet you! Andre wouldn’t shut up about you and he hasn’t stopped talking about you since.”

You turned your head towards your boyfriend and noticed that he was a bright shade of pink. You squeezed his hand as Lauren led you inside.

“So this must be (Y/N),” TJ smiled as he shook your hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smiled.

“Come in and make yourselves at home. (Y/N), come with me! I have people I want you to meet.” Lauren pulled your arm, taking you away from your boyfriend.

She dragged you around the party, introducing you to every player and significant other she could find. You both finally stopped on the deck, drinking and talking to Nastya and Liza. The sun was beginning to set and you could tell that people were getting ready to leave.

Andre and TJ wandered out onto the deck. “Do you girls mind if I take my girlfriend back?” He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Sure!” Liza laughed. “We get to have her back on Wednesday for breakfast and then for the game on Friday.”

“Before you know it, you’ll never see her again,” TJ joked.

His wife gave him a pointed look. “I see you occasionally.”

Everyone laughed and said their goodbyes. Andre held you close as he walked you to the car.

“So?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I kind of love them,” you admitted.

“And they love you.”

“But I love you more.”

“And I love you mostest.”

“Please God get a room,” Tom gagged from behind you. You waved as he got into his own car.

Andre held the door open for you. He stopped you before you could get in, leaning down and kissing your lips gently.

“I really do love you most.”

Ice Kissed, Frost Bitten | A Meihem Oneshot

Summary:  When Mei returns to Ecopoint: Antarctica to retrieve old data and face her demons, she brings Junkrat and Roadhog along for a secret mission

Thanks @rinshi-chan​ for the eyes!

READ ON AO3

Talon’s hacking of the Ecopoint: Iceland digital archives is the excuse Mei is waiting for.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Winston to approve her mission request. Morrison doesn’t argue either when Mei commissions a hovercraft and requisite supplies for the journey. He knows what it’s like to be weighed down by the past, so he won’t get in her way.

The only person who might object to Mei’s mission is Junkrat. And she can’t go–won’t go–without him.

She finds Junkrat in his workshop, tediously trying to construct a pyramid from grenades. Hopefully, they’re duds. Mei supposes she’ll find out. Roadhog is leaning against the wall, breathing steadily. She can’t tell if he’s watching his partner work or if he’s asleep.

“I’m going back,” Mei declares. Roadhog stirs, cocking his head in Mei’s direction with a silent question. Junkrat’s hand, holding a grenade between two long fingers, pauses in the air.

“Goin’ back? Back where?” he says over his shoulder. “You’ve been all over.” Brow furrowed, he places the grenade at the pinnacle of the pyramid. It’s a rare thing for Junkrat to become fixated on something that requires so much patience. Mei swallows. If he’s so focused, maybe what she’s about to tell him won’t be such a big deal.

“Back to my old ecopoint.”

Keep reading

The Ball (Jumin x MC)

Victorian!AU: You meet someone new at the ball you’re attending.

Word Count: 1033

I am VERY excited to be starting this and I hope you all enjoy it! Anyhow, thank you and have a lovely day!

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You sat restlessly at your seat, fiddling constantly with your gown as music drenched the air, a crowd of people dancing about in the middle of the grand ballroom.

You glanced about at every man stepping remotely in your direction, curiously awaiting their next move to find them veer off towards someone else. 

It didn’t particularly bother you, you enjoyed observing.

Yet you noticed how someone could never quite pry their eyes away from you.

His name was Jumin Han, you had been introduced by the host when the night had been young.

And he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. 

His sooty gaze seemed cold when they drew to something else, but when they made their way to you, they always softened or warmed. 

And eventually, he approached you, mustering up a sort of internal courage as a new song began.

He gave a small bow, his tailcoat shifting awkwardly at the movement. 

“Would you care to dance Ms.MC?” 

His voice was soft and quiet, leaving an odd warmth you couldn’t quite describe in your chest.

You stood up, curtsying as you took his outstretched arm.

“I’d love to.” 

He had smiled, just a bit at your response. 

“You know, I couldn’t help but catch your gaze, many times. Were you perhaps, flustered?” 

Pink dusted his cheeks, awkward coughs erupting from him as he attempted to hide his reddening face. 

“That wouldn’t be an incorrect assumption.” He muttered, under his breath. “I was hoping you hadn’t actually seen that.” 

He put a hand on your waist, the other taking your hand and beginning to guide you along the dancefloor. 

Talking wasn’t exactly polite, or aligned with proper etiquette but you found yourself simply wanting to talk to him more and more. 

“Don’t worry, I thought it was charming,” You chuckled. “But I assume that means you aren’t courting anyone else?” 

“No, I don’t quite get along well with many. I’m surprised we’ve even gone on this far without any hurt feelings.” 

“How so?”

“I’ve been told I’m very difficult.”

“Well you don’t seem that way to me.” You grinned. “So you’ve got one person on your side at least.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Do you work in a profession that could lead to having many enemies?” 

“I work with my father with exportation and trade. But we’re not particularly problematic. We handle clothing lines and other things of the sort so we’re usually well-liked.” He explained. “But, I think it’s a bit self-explanatory to say that I’m not the spokesperson of the company.”

You knew of their business.

It was widespread. 

He and his father especially were incredibly well-known for their immense rise to success, being immigrants to the nation.

“You’re from Korea correct?”

“Yes, I am. Though, I hardly remember it. I was hardly a toddler when we arrived so I mainly rely on my family’s accounts.” 

“I’m sure it was hard moving so far.”

“The adjustment period was the oddest. It was difficult for my family to learn English in such short-”

The music stopped, and the men began escorting the ladies back to their seats, dawdling off to the other corner.

Yet Jumin remained in place, his hold on you even tightening as though you were a passing breeze. 

“Please don’t think ill of me, but it’s rare I get along so well with someone.” He smiled faintly. “And I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d be willing to have one more dance with me.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“I’d be delighted.”


You didn’t part the rest of the night, conversing on and on about your lives as if you were writing memoirs. 

You were both practically tethered to each other.

Simply inseparable. 

You never felt a sting of fear for what you said, only feeling a comfort as he responded with a tender tone.

Neither of you could seemingly stop smiling either. A grin stretching upon Jumin’s features simply from looking at you.

Yet as the night droned on, and people began to leave he leaned close raising a curious brow.

“Would you mind if I escorted you home?”

“Not at all!” 

Your heart thought it may burst.

And it appeared his may too at the light that sparked in his eyes at your agreement. 

He led you to your carriage, assisting you and propping himself on the other side of you. 

“I think that may have been one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time if you don’t mind me saying so.” 

He was almost bewildered. “I’ve never felt so safe, and content with anyone before.” He confessed. “To be frank, you’ve been an utter joy tonight.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” 

Butterflies soared in your stomach.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we carried on with correspondence?” 

“Of course not!” 

“Then this night has taken its spot as the best night.” He laughed softly, the carriage sputtering to a halt outside your home. 

He helped you out, leading you to the front door where he reluctantly let go of you, a faint sadness at that.

“Thank you for the incredible night.” He remarked, bowing. “I can’t wait to tell others that I’ve found an angel on earth.” 

You quickly became the shade of a strawberry, heat radiating off your face as you tried to muster any sort of coherent response.

He let out a raspy laugh, beginning to turn when you called back, turning slightly to face you.

You rushed forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

His jaw nearly dropped. 

He was speechless, staring at you with eyes the size of dinner plates as you curtsied and bid him goodnight, closing the door behind you. 

And Jumin was absolutely smitten.