just sits there and does nothing

Stay After Class

V/Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2,010

Warnings: Sexual Content

A/N: I don’t know how this happened. It wasn’t even planned, it was impulse. BUT ANYWHOO I’ve been lazy when it comes to writing lately so please hold tight with this while I prepare new chapters of series’:)

This gif does not belong to me. Credit to the owner:)

Great. Another day to endure, sitting in front of Mr.Kim. You weren’t sure you could endure any longer. Like really, just looking him made you feel some type of way. His blonde hair always framed his face perfectly and when he styled it so that his eyebrows showed, there was nothing but heat. Everyone knew that he was attractive yes, but you barely said anything about it. Today was the day though. When you came in, you saw him at the board, wearing all black. Dammit, he must’ve done this on purpose. Your eyes trailed all over him, your thoughts filled with how good he looked. How sexy he looked.

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One of my favorite things about overwatch as a whole is how much of their energy went into the character animation. Every single one of them has mannerisms that are all unique even down to their “Hello!” hand-waves. Seriously, there’s a difference between Soldier’s slow and minimal open-palmed wave and Ana’s salute, between Sombra’s curly-fingered long nailed wave and Reaper’s wave seeming more like he’s trying to grab something, between Bastion’s choppy finger-wave and the repair module waving in sentry mode and Genji’s short bow with a distinctive hand motion. It’s all completely unique to each character to express something about their personalities even with the same general motion.

This isn’t even the half of it. Compare EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER’S seated emote for example. Even if characters are in the same pose, like McCree and Bastion and Lucio? The way they ENTER those poses is completely different. McCree holsters his gun and sets his hand on the ground before seating. Bastion spreads their legs a bit, balances with their arms, and then PLOMPS onto the dirt unceremoniously. Lucio fuckin BREAKDANCES into his seat, how extra can you get, what a show-off, I love him.

And the guys who take a knee instead of sitting down??? Also completely different. Pharah does a little flourish with her weapon before kneeling. Soldier just sweeps into it, all no-nonsense and efficient. Ana sweeps her cloak behind her first and gently eases into the kneel. Reinhardt fuckin hefts his hammer murder-side down and kneels like a knight, gazing slightly upwards to some imaginary monarch he’s in the service of. Zarya clonks her whole gun on the ground and kneels beside it, and it really starts to make sense just how BIG and HEAVY that thing is when you see it beside her like that.

The meditators? Fuckin. Nothing is safe from the character quirks and differences. Genji makes some kind of hand pose on one foot and balances into meditation, keeping his hand near his face. Zenyatta hovers a little lower, bows his head, and his orbs spread out to chime like prayer bells. Hanzo sets his bow down and sits seiza, with his hands on his knees. On that note, Mei also sits seiza but doesn’t meditate, instead awkwardly looking around and glancing at snowball for confidence.

And the COMPLETELY unique poses are probably my favorites. Junkrat wants you to paint him like one of your French girls, fingers tapping on the ground and OOZING such misplaced confidence and insanity that I can’t NOT love him. D.Va reveals her stash of snack food and plays on her Future GameBoy for a while, completely uninterested in what else is going on. Symmetra’s too pompous and confident to sit on the ground, so she creates a seat for herself out of hard light to sit on instead.

Just. I fucking love this game.

5

JuminV Week - Day 4 | Long Distance Relationship

WARNING ; ANGST plz read at your own risk. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED . Long Distance Relationship, I headcanon that sometimes Jumin would sit on his balcony and just… talks and imagine as if V is still there, with him, talking, like how he usualy does to him. Even now when he is gone, Jumin who is unable to fill the emptiness in his life so he just pretend nothing happen and yeah- A “long distance” relationship indeed. Which lead to this-

I AM SORRY FOR THIS

why I always angsty- somebody plz gimme some fluff- I am hurt because of my own story wtf

LOOKING FORWARD TO DAY 5 THOUGH I PROMISE I WILL DRAW SOMETHING HAPPY/CRACK AFTER THIS~!

LIST :

Day 01 | Day 02 | Day 03 | Day 04 | Day 05 | Day 06 | Day 07

anonymous asked:

WHAT are you bestist favouriteist and longest klance fics or voltron fics that you can recommend

aaaa!!! ok so i have a really bad memory so i just picked out a few longish ones that i distinctly remember liking!!

so baby, pull me closer by redburn

this one is !! just amazing!! there’s a brief nsfw implied secition but i can overlook that bc the writing is beautiful, it the does enemies to friends to lovers trope and the pining trope justice.. it’s just really beautiful as a whole

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts, thebrotherswinchester

ok. i have a lot of feelings about this fic. i read it in one sitting and it left me sOBBING and completely reevaluating my life, it was just.. so soft? aaa i don’t know how to describe it but it’s one of my favourites, anon.

Foreign Scenes by bwyn

this fic is completed now, but every time it updated i was… over the mOOn ok?? the chemistry between the characters is.. incredible.. it was just so fun and raw and wONDERFUL?? it made me want to write again !!!

The Hustle by morvish, sinelanguage

vvvvv good im !!!! listen, i’m going through my bookmarks and clicked on this one to refresh my memory and now i’m rereading the entire thing, so that should sTRONGLY indicate that it’s Good. read for Ultimate Pining

Baby, Take Me High by yeahyouresocool

soft pining at a carnival,,, do i have to say any more??? this fic made me really happy it was just?? so lovely?? at some points i had to stop reading for a few minutes and pull myself together jkfjg

First Day of My Life by eso (cazzy)

!!!! bed sharing !!! texting !!! i love tropey fics but i love them even more when they’re done well, and this one is just!! good content m’guys

Red is the Coldest Color by EnglishCivilWar

see,, i think i know what pining is and then this fic!!! just comes and blows it right out of the water!! i generally tend to read au fics more, but this is canon compliant and sO. GOOD. also as a sidenote i love the characters so much

it’s quite bizarre, and will remain this way by mayerwien for strikinglight

this is one of my favourites, partially because of the setting, partially because of the writing itself, and mostly because i loved the character portrayals. they were just.. teenagers!! they were complex and silly and i loved them!! there was something about this that just,, resonated with me. it was really, really lovely

i’m riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss by nikkiRA

ok i think its obvious by now that i’m hopelessly in love with roommate aus so i’m not always objective about them, but i pROMISE,,, this one is is sPECIAL and fUNNY and !!!! read it!!

Better than coffee by peralta

another cafe au for the hell of it, and also because im love the pining so much, and keith here is !!! mY keith you know??? god fanfiction is amazing

Sweeter Than Pumpkin Pie by konekat for kenbrah (OliviaxxMarie)

i know i recommend this one a lot, but it’s just.. so soft and in character and makes me feel at ease ya know??

Location by inelasco

i either really love wormhole/start of s2 fics or i don’t, and i really loved this one. i love lance’s character being focused on, and this one does it so well.

i hope u like some of them!!!! (btw proofreading is for the weak im sorry for any mistakes!!!)

Best Out-of-Context Lines From Musicals

- “Sit down John, you fat motherfucker!”

- “Screw the middle classes, I will never accept them!”

- “Consider yourself part of the furniture.”

- “Now shut your face.”

- “Henry can’t really stay; he’s got rabies.”

- “I love you even though it does not matter that I still don’t know your name.”

- “The internet is not for porn!”

- “Miss America should just resign!”

- “No one keeps a cow for a friend!”

- “Lot 666 then.”

- “Nothing can bend the will like half-Castilian men!”

- “Sometimes my father appeared to enjoy having children.”

4

The skinny on sending Lin fanmail as of December 2016, according to his dad. To summarize:

The address is

4768 Broadway Unit 743
New York NY 10034

You will get a reply (somehow, eventually, I have no idea how he has time for this) even if you don’t include a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope). Do include an appropriate SASE if you are sending pictures or programs for him to sign. Gifts that are meaningful to you are okay, just nothing expensive.

He was dictating answers to interns when he was in New York, closing with his signature. (His handwriting is… super messy. Plus, that’s a lot of volume, when he does sit down to do it.) (eta: He does still handwrite some of the replies himself.) Here are some examples of replies people have posted on twitter. I’m not sure if he’s sent any from London yet, I think maybe one batch?

My advice is to feel free to send what you really want to say and then be very patient.

A Little Something About The Tangy and The Tart

I cannot believe it has been so long since I posted and I’m sorry, truly, that it’s taken me forever and a day to get my ass in gear. But due to recent events, I felt inspired to write something and I’m actually really, really happy with how this turned out!

Also, I owe a huge thank you to @permanentcross for giving me advice and reassuring me this wasn’t crap and to @canistay-haz for being her wonderful, loving self and telling me I don’t suck. You both are so, so lovely and I’m lucky that I can ask you for advice when I’m not confident in my writing.

That being said, enjoy!

Warning: NSFW

Masterlist


Normally, Saturday mornings would be reserved for sleeping in, lazy kisses, and barely audible gasps filling your ears. Today however, you and Harry had to be somewhat functioning adults. You were having one last get together with Harry’s closest friends and family before his life was sent into the spotlight for who knows how long, and he didn’t get to be as free and open with his time as he had been. 

You woke up about half an hour after Harry did, knowing you had things to do and people to see but you were having none of it. All you could think about was the slight yet very-much-still-there tingling sensation between your legs thanks to yours and Harry’s late night rendezvous. You smiled to yourself, rolling over and letting your face collide into Harry’s pillow, inhaling his lingering scent that made you want him all over again… 

You made your way downstairs to your boyfriend, legs bare and torso covered in his ridiculously baggy pink shirt that was littered with the white polka dots, your rear just barely peeking out at the bottom hem. Harry was sporting only a pair of grey joggers that hung much too low on his hips, not that you were complaining. 

“Morning, sunshine.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, peppering his back with tiny pecks.

“G’morning, poppet. Sleep okay?” Every morning after, without fail, he asks how you slept. He asks because he knows when you’re both in the heat of the moment, sex isn’t gentle. Not that it’s animalistic, but you and Harry like what you like and making sure you’re comfortable and properly taken care of after is an essential part of his aftercare routine; he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take care of you and pamper any part that might be slightly bruised or extra loved on. He does love a routine after all…

“Mhm,” you purr into his back, pecking his skin once more before he spins around in your grasp, your arms falling to your sides while he places one hand on your cheek and encloses your mouth with his.

“Good,” he smiles down at you, pecking your cheek before turning back to the countertop where you can see he’s been preparing a dessert for the get together later that night. 

“Whatcha makin’?” you ask, hopping upon the countertop, legs swinging back and forth while eyeing the bowl of plain raspberries and the graham cracker crust that was still sitting in the tart pan Harry insisted he needed.

“How does a raspberry tart for tonight sound? Bought the pan, figured there was no use in letting it sit in the cupboard.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. There was nothing comical about the dessert in and of itself, but you were feeling some type of way this morning and you couldn’t help but think of it in a provocative way.

Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to grin, “Why is that funny?”

You just giggled again and reached to kiss him on the cheek, “Maybe I wanna be your little raspberry tart. I already have the perfect shirt on.” Although you’d been sitting on the countertop for a good minute already, Harry had just noticed how his shirt had ridden up your thighs and he swallowed hard, also taking in how you had only the bottom two buttons fastened and there was little, if anything, left to the imagination. What Harry didn’t know was that you didn’t have anything covering the part of you that wanted him the most; he figured you’d just thrown on something skimpy just to torture him but no, you were completely bare, apart from the bottom of the hem under your bum, and sitting on your boyfriend’s counter. Harry didn’t have a prayer. 

You smirked at him cheekily and even though you’d had him not even eight hours before, he could tell you still had an appetite for something else, something that filled you in a different way. 

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continental drift

(#21 off the Super Sappy Prompts list: “I’m better when I’m with you.”)

It’s an experiment based on a hypothesis based on a coincidence. They’re sharing a room on a roadie, and Nursey has been stuck in a dry spell for a week and a half now. The words just haven’t been coming the way he wants them to, and he’s starting to feel dried out, like all the creative juices have been wrung out of him by school stress and lack of sleep. Maybe it’ll never come back. Maybe he’s just done. All washed up by the tender age of twenty.

He’s not even trying to write as he watches Dex from across the room, tracking his fidgets and expressions as he sits hunched over his laptop frowning at the screen. It’s been a while since he and Dex have been in the same room for an extended period of time – a fortnight, about. Dex has been on a project, and Nursey started isolating himself about when the drought hit. But it was nice to sit with him on the bus today, and it’s nice to dump his bag near the bed and just relax, hands behind his head, and drink in his presence. It feels like something he’s been missing for far too long.

Nursey’s not sure what it is that makes the words start coming back, but it’s like a cloudburst on a hot day – a few lines, scattered drops against a parched sidewalk, then all at once he’s drowning.

He writes for four hours that night. His poems are full of microchips and anger, all about the gray morality of man against the rigidity of binary code, and by one a.m., when he should really be getting his beauty rest for tomorrow’s game, he’s starting to formulate a theory.

The theory is that maybe being in Dex’s proximity jumpstarts his creativity. In a phrase, Dex inspires him.

So Nursey resolves to test it.

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Perfect Ten

Summary:  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, Dean’s slight pudge has always been a part of himself that he’s never felt completely comfortable with.  After a few miserable days of unsuccessful dieting and choking down rabbit food, Cas reminds him exactly how beautiful he is.   


“You’re getting kinda chubby!”  

Charlie makes this remark lightly, offhandedly, as she passes by Dean on the way to breakfast that morning:  Dean had been stretching his arms overhead in a yawn so that his cotton shirt rode up over his stomach, which Charlie takes the opportunity to poke.

Startled, he looks down just in time to see the disconcerting way in which her fingertip sort of smushes into the soft, freckly flesh.  

Dean halts in his tracks, blinking comprehensively.  “Wait, what?”  is all he can think to say.

Charlie, who’d been nonchalantly continuing on her way down the hall, turns to look at him.  “Well, you don’t have to sound so offended about it,” she laughs.  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything!”

Dean folds his arms defensively.  “Then what did you mean, Charles?”

“First of all, I answer only to Charlie, Ms. Bradbury, or the Illustrious Queen of Moondoor.  Next, I just meant you put on a couple pounds.  Maybe getting a bit of a tummy.  It’s no big deal.”

Dean looks comprehensively down at his stomach.  Now that he thinks about it, he has been eating more these days – he’s been going through sort of a “nesting period” during his relationship with Cas:  lots of baking pies, burgers, etc.  He didn’t think it was noticeable.  

Taking note of the gravity of his expression, Charlie laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  “You don’t have to look so glum about it!  It’s cute.”

Dean glowers at her, tugging self consciously at his t-shirt.  “M’not cute,” he mutters grouchily.  “I’m a warrior.

Charlie laughs again.  “Alright, warrior.  Hurry up and take care of your morning breath – Kevin’s making waffles again!”

With that, Charlie skips off down the hall, leaving Dean to steep in his juices.  He lets Charlie laugh it off, of course – he knows she didn’t mean any harm – but the fact is, Dean’s always known he’s had a little bit of pudge around his midsection, and he’s always been the slightest bit insecure about it.  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, it’s one of the things about himself that he’s never particularly liked.  

His one solace was convincing himself that these features weren’t as noticeable to everyone else as they are to him.  Now, that seems to have changed.  

Dean pulls up the rim of his shirt, noting sourly the way in which his pudge protrudes slightly over the waistband of his pajama pants.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so hungry anymore.

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swashbucklery  asked:

Kara and Lena, making out on top of that desk in her office

It’s been a long week.

It drags at her heels, weighs down her cape as Kara makes her way from the DEO bunker back towards National City. In the distance, the lights of the city guide her way, and she’s grateful for it as sleep is calling her name.

She just has to get home, and she adjusts her trajectory a little to the south as she gets closer, aims for her neighborhood and her bed and the angle of the city shifts, rearranges itself into a different view and the L-Corp building is there, the sign neon-brighter than all the rest. She doesn’t decide to go so much as she just does, a slight arc around a cluster of buildings downtown and then she’s landing on Lena’s balcony.

It’s not the most graceful of entrances.

Okay, she stumbles, but she’s tired, and, more than that, she’s messy with eagerness. She hasn’t been in her life for days, not at work, not at home or the bar, not with the people she cares about who don’t fight by her side, because someone thought it would be a good idea to sell captured gil’dishpans on the black market without a clue as to who or what the alien portal creatures were. But as the events of the week start to fall away to a memory, she wants back into her life. She wants

Her less-than-graceful landing gives her arrival away.

Inside, Lena turns in her chair, sets down the tablet she was reading from, and at the sight of her the weight of Kara’s exhaustion and longing twists in on itself, rearranges at an elemental level, and something of what she’s feeling she finds reflected back in the look painted across Lena’s face.

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Things were good, actually no things were great before it all happened.

Now, I feel so lost, lost for words, lost with my sense of direction, lost in my thoughts…I am lost. I have so many questions, I’m starting to think my life has become nothing but a series of questions.

Thing is they are legitimate questions but they are still yet to be answered, will they ever be answered? Did I deserve this, does anyone deserve this? 

Do you ever just look at someone and think to yourself, wow they are so lucky I wish I lived their life or when will  I finally be satisfied with the life I live. I used to be like them you know, happy, or at least I thought I was happy.

Now..now I just sit, I feel numb, so numb in fact that I feel as if someone could drive a knife through me and I wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain.

Emotions, what are emotions?

Feelings, huh I feel nothing but emptiness…

Hope, I used to think that was all I needed to get through life, that was until you. You made me give up on hope, give up on practically everything I lived for.

Oh but look at you, everything has worked out pleasantly well for you hasn’t it? 

Pain, I guess the only good thing is I no longer feel it, pain..that is. Or maybe I do, but I have become immune to it because that’s what anyone would do right?

—  Tenari Ioapo - Everything I’m not // Excerpt from a book I’m writing.

The first time Tony shaves off his beard, no one in the tower recognizes him and they all just think that some random dude is just wandering around the tower. No one does anything about it though and they’re so confused because they haven’t seen Tony all day and there’s this guy sitting in Tony’s workshop and playing with Tony’s bots.

Tony doesn’t say anything because he finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious and tells Jarvis to say nothing until they’ve figured out who he is. 

but I don't ever think I can ever learn how to love just right

requested by anonymous

andreil au in which neil gets tired of the ‘we’re nothing’ game and decides to stop playing


It isn’t much of a surprise when one of the foxes gets hurt on the court. While running drills, they’re often teamed up against each other, working of defensive and offensive maneuvers. And while they don’t mean to hurt each other, Exy is a violent sport, and accidents happen. Most of the time they’re accidents, at least.

Today’s incident is a legitimate accident; in a scuffle for the ball, the handle of Dan’s racket catches Neil’s helmet, tugging it off and sending him crashing to the floor. She fawns over him with apologies, helping him back to his feet, ignoring his attempts to wave her off.

He’s only been on his feet for two seconds when Andrew pushes through, tipping his chin up with a finger, likely to get the bleeding to stop.

“I’m sorry, Neil, I swear-“ Dan exclaims, peering around Andrew, who, though tiny, still manages to take up a huge amount of space in front of Neil.

“It’s okay. Really,” He says.

“Your nose is broken,” Andrew says.

“Hell, Dan. Remind me not to piss you off,” Nicky says, a teasing smile on his lips. Matt shoots him a look, to which Dan crinkles her nose, grip tightening on her racket.

“You know-“

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Sweet Dreams **

Request- Hi! Could u do a Bucky imagine where the reader is Tony’s daughter and she had a wet dream about Bucky and tells Wanda and Nat about it and the boys hear the conversation and Tony gets all protective and all? You can choose the final!!I love your blog btw♡ from @awesomebrokenangelworldus-blog

Bucky Barnes X Stark!Reader

Word Count: 1763

Warnings: There’s a wet dream! that’s pretty NSFW.

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry this took a while! I hope this is alright!! Please let me know :) xo 

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Shy || Jughead Jones

Request by @myteenwolf-world: Hi Rose :) I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is really shy and barely speaks to anyone? Jug is the only one she talks to and the rest of the group are surprised to see them having a conversation and being close. They question Jug about it and they find out he has a crush on her. Thank you in advance <3

A/N: I feel like this was kind of shaky since I haven’t written prompts in a while but I’m getting back in the swing of things! Hope you enjoy. <3

Gif by @juggiehead

—————

Being the new kid was never easy. Being the shy new kid was never easy. You were the perfect target for bullying from people like Reggie and Chuck who always catcalled you in the hallways and knocked your binders out of your arms. But you never said a word. You didn’t want to cause any trouble.

A few people noticed you. The “Sad Breakfast Club” saw you in the hallways. Sitting alone at lunch. Reading alone. Keeping to yourself. Day after day, almost every member of the group (with the exception being Jughead) attempted to talk to you. They tried to coerce you into at least sitting with them at lunchtime. Each time you quickly shook your head, eyes returning to your book.

Weeks passed and the group was still no closer to getting you to even speak a word.

“I just don’t understand!” Veronica exclaimed as she slammed her lunch tray down on the table. “We’ve tried everything. Does she just not like us?”

Betty shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s what it is, V,” the blonde said. “She’s just really shy. Sometimes you can try everything only to have nothing work.”

Veronica groaned.

“She has a point,” Archie said as he took a bite of his apple. “Maybe we should just stop.”

As the group talked amongst themselves, Jughead watched you from a distance. Unlike the others, he had taken a personal interest in you. The raven-haired teen loved mysteries and you were one he wanted to crack.

Why did you move here? Why did you move here so late in the school year? Why were you so shy?

“I can try,” Jughead interrupted, silencing the entire group. “To talk to her, I mean.”

Archie sighed.

“Jug, I don’t know…” he began. “You tend to be… really upfront. What if you scare her away?”

Jughead snorted.

“Wow, thanks, Arch,” he remarked sarcastically. “Like you guys haven’t terrified her enough.”

With that, he was off and making his way over to your table.

“This isn’t going to end well.” Betty said.

Veronica sighed as she opened her bag of chips.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

You heard someone making their way over to you before you saw them. You gripped your book tighter, forcing your eyesight to stay on the small words. You wondered who it would be this time. Would it be the jock or one of the two cheerleaders? It wasn’t that you didn’t like them either, it was just that you were literally terrified to talk to them. They seemed so cool and you didn’t understand why they wanted to talk to someone like you.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You looked up from your book, your eyes meeting blue-green ones. Your heart skipped a beat once you saw who it was. Jughead Jones. The boy in your English class who you had a massive crush on. But of course, you could never find the courage to talk to him. If you couldn’t even talk to Veronica Lodge or Betty Cooper, arguably the nicest girls in the school, how were you supposed to talk to the boy you liked?

“Can I sit here?” Jughead asked.

You returned your gaze to your book, not answering. Jughead took a seat anyway.

“What’s your name?” the beanie-clad teen pressed.

Again, you didn’t answer.

“Well,” he sighed. “My name’s Jughead. I’m in your—”

“English class,” you said softly before you froze.

Jughead seemed equally surprised that you spoke.

“Yeah, I, um,” you began again, clearing your throat. “I know who you are.”

“Is she… talking to him?” Veronica asked incredulously.

Archie nodded.

“Looks like she is. Who would’ve guessed?” the ginger asked.

“But why?” Betty asked.

Archie frowned at her question.

“Why is she talking to Jughead?” he tried to clarify.

Betty shook her head.

“No, why is Jughead talking to her? When has he ever showed an interest in the new kids? He never showed an interest in Veronica.”

Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, Betty.” she joked.

“You know what I mean.” the Cooper girl said.

The three students returned their gazes to you and Jughead who were now talking and smiling amongst each other. At the moment, the bell rang signaling the end of the period. The gang saw you pack your stuff up as you and Jughead said your goodbyes. Jughead walked back over to the group with a smug smile on his face as you walked into the school.

“How?” Veronica asked once Jughead was close enough to hear her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked as he picked up his book bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder.

Veronica smirked.

“I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with the fact you have a crush on her? And, oh, I don’t know, maybe she likes you too and you guys are going out to Pop’s after school to get a milkshake together?” she joked, improvising everything as she went along.

Betty and Archie laughed but Veronica didn’t miss the way she saw Jughead tense up for a fraction of a second.

“Very funny, Veronica.” he deadpanned.

Veronica’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she murmured. “You like her!”

Jughead turned beet-red as Betty and Archie turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“And she likes you! And you asked her out!” Veronica continued.

“God, Veronica, scream it to the world, would you?!” Jughead hissed as the four of them walked into the school.

Veronica went silent but couldn’t stop her beaming smile or the way she was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Aw, Juggie, this is so cute!” Betty squealed.

“Not bad, Jug.” Archie said as he clapped the writer on the back.

Jughead’s red face didn’t go away.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you guys later.”

With that he was gone, escaping to his next class.

“Our Juggie’s growing up.” Veronica said, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

“You’re so lucky he wasn’t around to hear that.”

—————

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please send me feedback! Thank you!

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pidge and boobs: an unfortunate experience

  • pidge is just like. really done with having boobs
  • pidge, looking down at her chest: why are you even here
  • boobs are just like…sacks of fat that get in the way of fighting and seeing her computer screen when she lays down 
  • and when her boobs just hurt she’s like “why. why me. i’m just trying to live my life” 
  • she doesn’t even have boobs that are that big and she wears sport bras most of the time but sometimes during practice they bounce and she just wants them to s t o p 
  • to hunk: i don’t want my boobs anymore you can have them 
    hunk: pretty sure that’s not how this works
  • pidge never goes bra shopping like properly like she probably isn’t wearing the right size but the bra fits well enough and doesn’t pinch and she’s not spending any more time on these expensive fabric cups that society demands she wears
  • society sucks ass
  • so do boobs
  • one day lance is like “i’m like 90% sure shiro has bigger boobs than you” and pidge is like “good. he can share my suffering” 
    • shiro: i’m always suffering
  • those days where you just have to grab your boobs as you’re running up the stairs or something? yeah. pidge hates those days and swears aggressively as she wraps her arms around herself
  • she loves wearing huge oversized sweatshirts but she especially loves it because she can go braless and no one will know 
    • also for your consideration: the extra lazy days where she literally just wears a sports bra and a sweatshirt and no shirt
  • lance: do you ever just. hold your own boob
  • pidge: do you ever just punch yourself in the face
  • one day she’s bored and particularly annoyed at her boobs and she’s just like. an a cup for awful a, b cup for bothersome, c cup for cursed, d cup for dreadful—
  • she mostly lives in sports bras but there are a lot of days where she’s like “…what if i didn’t”
    • the answer is nothing would happen. she’s in space. no one cares. she can just go braless. it’s a freeing day when she realizes that
  • they’re just laying around one day and she sits up suddenly and is like “does space even have bras”
    • it does. or at least, alteans do 
    • both her and lance are disappointed when space bras aren’t anything special and are basically the same as earth bras
    • lance takes every opportunity afterward to say “cool starry bra” when it’s relevant 
      • because stars. and space. starry bra. it’s funny
  • she is so jealous of aliens that don’t have breasts like how is this fair
  • pidge loves her armor because her boobs are out of the way for once and it’s so nice
  • she’s just like “what is even the POINT of you!!” most of the time and like. she knows but still. what’s the point
  • pidge is just very frustrated with her boobs

I don’t know how so much emotion can fit inside of such a tiny human.

Why does it feel so good to cry? Why do salt-stained eyes bring me comfort? I want to purge myself from feelings - I want to shove my fingers down my throat and pull from it strings of chewed up letters. Stomach-stained thoughts. Be filled with complacent emptiness for just a moment - the gasp of air, when it feels like happiness, until gravity remembers itself and the emptiness becomes stillness becomes face down on your bed, unmoving. This can’t be how I live every moment that I’m alone - I can’t be this unhappy every time I’m alone. What does being around others even mean? It means being The Performer. Reciting your lines, pause for laughter. Pretend like you’re listening. Don’t say what you really mean, how you really feel, it’s not what people do. Rip that pulsing heart off your sleeve. We are all alive, we are all feeling what’s the use in holding back. I’m exhausted. What does it mean to just exist? To just be Alice, laying in the daisy field. The sun can see her, but nothing else. The movement of petals. What does it mean to breathe easily? What does it mean to be happy? Where does the laughter escape to when you’re alone? I feel, often, always, like a wind-up doll, a performance piece. I’m out, I’m social, I speak, I dance, I leave out my hat. I come home, back to my shelf, I sit, I stare, I want to be wound up again - always by others, never of my own volition. I become nothing for myself. If a blue haired girl takes a bath, writes a dream, touches herself, packs a box, but no one’s around to see it, did it really happen? I weep and weep and it doesn’t matter. I’m screaming into the abyss, the abyss is silent in return. The abyss has given up on us, it seems. The abyss needed something to scream into as well, it seems. Alex in the morning, doe eyes, cheery Alex is all anyone knows and it seems unfair to real Alex. Magnificently unfair. When can I be content being myself. I’m so tired. My mouth doesn’t want to make the words anymore. We slur (soberly, drunkenly), we can’t form coherent sentences. Ink based thoughts are the only ones I ever complete. (It’s cheating, I have more time to think them up.) (I want to be this version of me, I don’t want to be spoken to the way I’m spoken to. I’m more than my body, than the tiny, helpless mess of a man of a mouse.)

(this is probably gonna be a long oneshot and once there’s more it’ll be on ao3 but for now, let me know what you think?)

There are things that Kent can handle, and then there are things that Kent cannot, under any circumstances, in any universe, even begin to handle.

As it turns out, watching Jack Zimmermann, Alexei Mashkov, Randall Robinson, and Sebastian St. Martin attempt to build a deck is one of the things that he can’t handle, because holy fucking shit.

It’s about a million degrees out, and they’re all shirtless and covered in sweat and, yeah, it’s the off season, but they’re still professional fucking hockey players, for fucks sake, and Kent realizes then and there that accepting the invitation to spend the week at Jack and Bitty’s new cottage was definitely a mistake because, really.

Except for Mashkov, everybody brought their families, and they’re all friends, and they’re all teammates, and Kent is 99% sure that his invite was a pity one prompted by the Aces losing the Stanley Cup in game seven against the Stars, and he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t belong there at all, and he can’t help but think it’s because he doesn’t.

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