let's get this paper

how to help sick bee!!

is bee on ground? is bee not moving much?? is bee tired??? help sick bee!!!

  • use paper to pick up bee!
    slide slowly under little bumbly legs and little bumbly body until bee is fully on paper

  • bring bee inside to open window or open door!!!
    when bee is better, bee will fly out!

  • make sugar water for bee!
    mix two (2) to three (3) tablespoons of sugar (can be normal sugar or organic sugar! no artificial, no diet sweetener, no sweetener, just sugar!!!!! no honey either!!!!!!) with one (1) tablespoon of water! stir until sugar dissolves!!!!

  • put sugar water on plate or spoon for bee!
    give to bee! put bee on clean parts of plate or hold spoon near bee! if bee gets stuck in sugar water, use paper to help them get unstuck!

  • let bee drink and rest!!!!!

  • can put a bowl / plate / container of sugar water outside for other bees!!!!! use same two to one (2:1) or three to one (3:1) ratio for mix!!!!!

re-imagined citadel dlc photo because bioware, you can’t give me a dlc specifically dedicated to proving how much this ridiculous ragtag group of buddies love each other like family, and then give me their drunken houseparty photo… where they’re all standing in strict lines at military attention not touching each other????? like, I get it, making people interact in video games isn’t easy, but that weirdly awkward photo did break my game immersion somewhat. I haven’t been to a drunken houseparty in about five years but I can tell you, they’re gonna cram as many people as possible onto that sofa, and most of them are gonna be distracted well before the photo gets taken. 

TOP ROW: steve and vega are on krogan-wrangling duty. steve is better at it. zaeed wants wrex’s drink umbrella but wrex is watching him closely to make sure he puts it the fuck back. jack’s just…jack. miranda was meant to be looking kind of disgusted like “ugh really?” but I realised as I was colouring it looks like she was about to say something and got, um, distracted by jack’s tongue soooo……… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  its definitely canon that samara L O V E S babies and excited-daddy-to-be jacob would deffs have baby scans to show anyone and everyone. 

BOTTOM ROW: kaidan “biotic beefcake” alenko unfortunately ends up next to garrus “unreasonably bulky armour” vakarian, and is torn between “YES FRIENDS :D” and “dear god shepard your feet s t i n k” (she fell through a fishtank yesterday kaidan give her a break). sam is tipsy enough to find this all hilarious. shepard’s the only sober one there but she’s still bein a little shit and lounging over everyone because drunk garrus is handsy garrus. liara’s trying to point out that javik’s passed out to tali but its a miracle that tali’s even sitting upright after being blasted on the bathroom floor for like an hour, so its not very effective. kasumi’s trying to convince joker that his hat would make a lot on the merch market and he’s saying that if she tries it he’ll sic edi on her (edi won’t do anything but her Disappointed Face is absolutely Devastating). javik passed out like five minutes ago and let me say, if all he gets is a bit of paper taped to his head, he gets off INCREDIBLY lightly.

There is no reason too small to learn a language

You like the music? Go for it! Enjoy the books? Sure, do it! Heard someone speak it in a café one time and loved the sound of it? Get yourself some paper and start practicing!!! Don’t let anything deter you from learning something new 🌱🐝

My Wayward Sisters wish list
  • Donna and Jodi to have a beautiful and complex friendship where they support and challenge each other and sometimes even drive each other a little crazy.
  • I want Donna’s sweet persistent kindness to help break through Claire’s bristly exterior and give them a special bond.
  • I would love for Claire to meet Hanna’s vessel, Caroline, so she has someone to talk to about the unique experience of being chained to a comet. 
  • I’d pay good money for them to find and help Kate from Bitten & Paper Moon. 
  • Let’s get some more diversity! Add a POC and/or queer sister.
  • Linda Tran should be their Bobby.
  • They have to meet up with Krissy & Josephine at some point. 
  • Cas needs to guest start in an episode.
  • Claire & Alex being sisters who share secrets and inside jokes, who bicker like siblings, and who will defend each other to the death. 
  • Kali is still out there. What if she took an interest in these hunting ladies?

I’m sure I could think of more. I’m just so excited about this!! Feel free to reblog and add your own Wayward Sisters wishes.

I’m wondering if I should say anything about this (especially after a long, draining shift at work where two things went wrong – but those two things were enough to occupy me the whole entire night), but –

I just think it’s unfair that there have been callout posts for artists who have drawn Pharmercy in an offensive way, but have admitted their mistakes and have apologized for them.

It’s one thing to call them out if they didn’t. But the thing is, they owned up to their mistakes, and one of them is even reluctant to draw Pharmercy now because of it.

I just think Tumblr is too obsessed with being right and having this moral rectitude that’s personified in callout culture, to the point where even people who make simple mistakes are punished for them via death by crucifixion. 

If you really want to help someone out, you’d engage with them one on one instead of getting thousands of people to shame them, and then smearing an entire subset of a fandom with the same brush, especially since there are members of that fandom who admit that there is a problem with racism, fetishism, whitewashing, etc. and have actively spoken out against it.

And in my case, I’ve even taken hits for it from members of my own fandom, and have lost people that I once considered friends because of it.

So yeah, Pharmercy fandom does have a problem with racism and bad portrayals of Fareeha, etc. And that should rightfully be discussed. Most of us are aware of this, and are trying our best to counteract it. But I do think it’s unfair to make callout posts for misguided artists who have made mistakes, and who have also apologized for them.

And that’s all I’m gonna say for now.

Minimalist Spell Series: Black Honey Curse

I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees,
I can’t understand why they’re stinging me…


  • Red pen (or any writing utensil that’s red)
  • Paper
  • Honey
  • Ground pepper


Take your paper and write your target’s name on it. Try to take up as much of the paper as you can. If you’d like, write it multiple times, over and over, to take up more space. As you do this, channel all of your negative energy through the pen and into the paper. Say to yourself, when done, “You keep swinging your hand through a swarm of bees, you can’t understand why they’re stinging you. But I’ll do what I want, I’ll do what I please, I’ll do it again ‘til I get what I need.”

Take the honey and strike through the name with it. Take the pepper and sprinkle it into the honey and over the name. Say, “And this time, I’ll get it right. Yeah, this time I’ll get it right. It’s gonna be this time I get it right. Oh god/goddess [your preference] let it be this time I get it right!” 

Tear up the paper. Rip it to absolute shreds. Burn it, tear it, cut it up, whatever you can to destroy the paper. As you do, say “So I’m cutting this branch off the cherry tree, singing ‘this will be my victory!’”

And finally, dispose of the shreds, outdoor bins or the toilet are the best. Make sure you cleanse your honey jar, pepper container, and your pen afterwards!

Snake skin

•I have a feeling I’m going to be obsessed with this multi chapter, if you guys like it let me know and I’ll for sure continue it!•

24, he was 24 today. It wasn’t much of a calendar year but hey, atleast he wasn’t ten feet underground. It was something.

Jughead Jones buried himself deeper into the grungy, beat down booth at The Snake Pen Bar. Gripping the worn out paper back in his fists, he let himself get lost in his own thoughts.

This is not where he thought he would be at 24, he had had dreams, ambitions, he had been so determined to make it out of Riverdale that he ended up smack dab in the middle of the very same town. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his hometown, Riverdale was everything to him, more or less the fact that he was sitting in a gang members bar wearing his fathers old leather jacket and currently sporting the scruff of a man who hadn’t shaved in weeks.

He had turned into his father.

Jughead was one of the most prominent members of the Southside Serpents, he had risen with the ranks and was now one of the top gang leaders, it was an accomplishment that held very little weight. He was supposed to be an author writing novels, writing scripts, but instead he was facilitating drug deals and running his fathers abandoned mechanics shop. The last part wasn’t so bad, he enjoyed fixing up cars and bikes. The thought struck something deep in his chest and he shuddered.

The girl who had taught him everything he knew, hot summer nights knee deep in some run down Toyota, long blonde ponytails brushing his shoulders as she stood behind him, her tiny hand covering the wrench in his. Jughead shut his eyes tighter, banishing the painful thoughts.

Suddenly he was pulled from his personal bubble by the arrival of five older man, the Original Serpents. Throwing his novel on the metal table, Jughead stood up to join the clearly agitated men.

“What’s the matter?” He asked evenly, it was best to not get these men angry, as much as they respected their own, they were still dangerous.

Viper stood behind the bar, drawing the attention of the few Serpents who were scattered amongst the place, they came forward and leaned closer, listening intently to whatever the boss had to say.

The bulky old man took a deep breath

“As many of you know, one of our own was locked away today, he and his wife will be serving fifteen to twenty in max. The reason they’re there is because…” he looked down angrily “they’ve been mistreatin’ their boy for a long time now. Hurt him real bad. Right under our noses.”

There was murmuring and cursing heard throughout the entire bar, Jughead fists clenched angrily. Noah Reyes was the sweetest little boy in the world, he was usually found playing under a bar table or wandering the streets with his stuffed teddy bear. He should’ve known, he should’ve seen how neglectful the Reyes were, but he was selfish and too concerned with his own issues.

“Anyway” viper continued “ we went down to social services today to see if we could take the boy, figured we’ve gotta be able to foster him, but no. Of course not.”

Jughead swallowed thickly, his foster family had been great, they took care of him but he had never been able to get over his abandonment issues, he prayed Noah wouldn’t be in the same boat.

“The kid was already taken in, it usually doesn’t work that fast. So I questioned it, who the hell would take in some Southside toddler without being briefed?” Everyone nodded in agreement, it was odd.

“Well turns out its some north sider, someone from that side of riverdale took him in no questions asked, that’s a little suspicious to me. I figure it’s time we pay her a visit, make sure she’s taking care of our little snake.”

Jughead stomach clenched, who had stuck around? No one he knew would just take someone into their home, no one from that side no…

“What was the name?” He asked abruptly, taking everyone back, Jughead rarely ever spoke in meetings.

Viper looked at him curiously
“What?” He asked

“What was the name? Of the person who took the boy in?” He bit out.

Viper shrugged his shoulders

“Elizabeth Cooper.”

Everdeen Vineyards

happy valentine’s day, just barely! here’s a little drabble that wouldn’t leave me, hope you enjoy <3

“Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?” Katniss asked the back of the man’s head, her eyes already scanning the room to make note of the new patrons she still needed to greet. A steady flow of customers through the tasting room was keeping her busy–not that she was complaining. Not much, anyway.

The man turned around, and she snapped her gaze back to him, a polite smile fixing itself to her lips. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He smiled, and her expression froze as she got a look at his face for the first time. “Hey, Katniss.”

It took an embarrassingly long moment for the synapses in her brain to fire, and her smile slipped. “Oh–Peeta?” Why she phrased it like a question, she didn’t know. Of course, it was Peeta. She’d recognize that face, with those blue eyes and that sweet smile, anywhere. She just hadn’t expected to see it here. “Oh my god–what–I mean, hi. Wow.”

He laughed slightly, and she felt herself blushing. She shook her head, forcing a laugh too. “I’m sorry. How are you?” she asked awkwardly. She wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol for greeting an old high school classmate who’d existed mainly on the periphery of her acquaintances. The last time she’d seen him was graduation 10 years ago.

“I’m good,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “I just wanted to check this place out. I, ah, saw your post about it on Facebook.” He looked sheepish when he said that, and she blinked. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that–the fact that he could, and did, apparently, read her posts on Facebook. She’d accepted his friend request years ago in college without much thought; they weren’t friends or anything, but she’d received numerous requests from people she barely knew from high school over the years, so it hadn’t seemed too strange. Some–actually, probably most requests–she’d declined. She hadn’t seen the harm in adding him, though. She didn’t know him well, but Peeta Mellark was nice. Funny. Popular. College wrestling champion two years in a row, or something like that–not that she was keeping tabs. He’d regularly show up in her feed over the years, even though they never interacted.

Since she barely used Facebook these days, it just didn’t occur to her he would ever see anything from her.

“Right, of course,” she said with a dazed laugh. “That was the point. Um, thanks for coming. That’s–that’s really nice of you.” She folded her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and not sure what to do with her hands. They were trembling slightly.

Peeta pressed his lips into a small smile, his eyes darting around as he surveyed the room, the people milling around them. “This place looks incredible.”

She wondered if she was ever going to stop blushing at this point. “Thank you. I mean, most of the groundwork was already laid.” She took a deep breath, not wanting to launch into that story. If he’d seen her post, then he’d already learned of her efforts to revitalize her family’s old vineyard, which had been in disrepair since her father’s death more than a decade ago. “Let me get you a menu.”

He nodded while she grabbed a paper menu from a nearby table, holding it out for him. “We do glasses and bottles of the wines listed here, but we also offer a tasting where you can sample seven of our wines. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend that.” She stopped herself and laughed, shaking her head. “Which, of course you haven’t. This weekend is the grand reopening. I just mean–that’s probably what you want to do.”

His eyes flicked up to her from the menu, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“Sure. Just find a seat outside if you’d like, and I’ll bring the wine to you,” she said with a vague gesture toward the patio, already turning away to scurry to the bar. She needed a moment to compose herself, inexplicably rattled.

It was just…Peeta. Mellark. Here. To see her. Or rather, to see her vineyard, but it was her vineyard. And he’d come because she’d made a post on Facebook proudly announcing the reopening of Everdeen Vineyards, after three years of planning and toiling and fermenting wines until they were just right.

Keep reading

my house headcanons
  • gryffindor: bonfires with friends, heart pounding and sweaty palms, being terrified but just going for it, leather jackets, combat boots, flannel shirts, holey jeans, cutting holes in old tees, tees w/bands or things you like, baseball caps + beanies, beat up converse, tank tops when it’s too cold out, weird outfits that end up looking great or terrible (but usually great), weeds (esp. the flowery ones), four leaf clovers, going apple picking, corn mazes + scarecrows, laughing at scary movies/haunted houses, goosebumps books, going all-out for halloween, stepping on crunchy leaves, the way everything looks when all the trees are different colors in fall, really intense/fast-paced relationships, abrupt endings, angry tears, not calling first, pride, songs that pump you up + make you think you can do anything, making everything a contest, skinned knees + bloody knuckles, raw emotion, really graphic/detailed tattoos, finger/foot tattoos, not giving a shit that everyone hates something if you like it, others’ dislike making you do it more, making a ton of plans but never following them + winging it, spontaneous road trips, long night drives, jumping in a lake in the middle of winter, walking on a frozen pond, short hair/pixie cuts or always keeping it back, borrowing chapstick (and always needing it), coffee w/lots of sugar half the time and black the other, only thinking in extremes, not thinking + just doing, always knocking shit over but managing to catch it/never breaking it, reading summaries of everything for class, journals half-finished, super chocolatey ice cream, not having a plan for life but taking a chance
  • ravenclaw: passing notes in class, love letters, astronomy, sweaters, anything knitted, poor patching jobs, mismatched buttons, ironed button shirts w/the sleeves rolled perfectly, dozens of cross-outs in handwritten work, paper painted w/tea, typewriter font, forget-me-nots, rainy/gloomy days, dresses w/tights, twirling in dresses, wearing stuff with pockets just so you don’t have to carry a purse, sunhats, mary janes, knee socks, shorthand notes from writing so much, telling jokes with your friends that make no sense to others, tons of blankets, singing really loud when you think you’re alone, indie/piano music, metaphors, a bunch of small random tattoos, one or two really deep loves, either going everywhere alone or with two best friends, braids, purposely messy hair, light brown hair, hair dyed bright colors, biting/picking your nails when you’re nervous, hot tea, overthinking/worrying + regretting, ballet, either really graceful or really clumsy, tripping but acting like you didn’t, classic literature, diaries, mint chocolate chip ice cream, being born into affluent families
  • slytherin: whispering and laughing with your friends, hair always looking perfect, black lace dresses, leather boots, studded clothes, thigh-highs, wearing heels even when it’s impractical but refusing to complain, wearing stuff without pockets + then keeping stuff in your bra/boots, organized desks w/nothing out of place, cursive handwriting, ivy, pine trees, black/white roses, white candles, upside-down crosses, one whole day spent in bed + overworking the next, locking yourself away for long periods, the calm as snow falls, falling asleep not touching but waking up wrapped around each other, vultures, angry songs, either no tattoos or a lot (of words/sayings), rolling your eyes but secretly identifying with things, being the dumper, short relationships, breaking up w/someone because you’re scared when it gets serious, black hair, blonde hair that’s almost white, purple/black lipstick, black coffee, always poised/collected on the outside, breaking down for .2 seconds in front of someone and berating yourself for it, acting like an asshole because you’re insecure/uncomfortable, feeling terrible for betraying someone years after + going to them in the middle of the night to apologize, edgar allan poe stories, russian poetry, everything typed, italian ice/gelato, working your way to the top no matter what it takes
  • hufflepuff: laughing so hard you can’t breathe and your sides ache, daisies + wishy flowers, sunflower seeds, watermelon, sundresses, polka dots, bright colors, jean jackets/shorts, rompers, patterned tights, snapbacks, taking the fall for someone, underdogs, smiling when you want to cry, not complaining because someone else is having a worse day, breezy spring days, hot summer beach trips, seed-spitting contests, guilt over something that’s not your fault, hugging stuffed animals/pillows, canaries, always humming + dancing around, upbeat pop/cute acoustic, one or two really meaningful tattoos/matching tattoos with someone, trying to walk barefoot outside but regretting it (then walking carefully on your toes), messy + super curly hair, golden blonde hair, freckles, dimples, a small gap in your teeth, fruity flavored lipgloss/light pink lipstick, cold drinks, being the first to text, grouptexts, twister, reading to little kids, shel silverstein, making scrapbooks/photo albums, vanilla ice cream w/rainbow sprinkles + whipped cream, sherbet ice cream, settling for the middle if being the best means cheating
Inspiration (Jughead Jones x Reader)

Hey guys! So this is a story I started writing maybe 3 or 4 hours ago? It’s not Marvel, I know, but @mrsjugheadjonesthethird was having a writing contest, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to try another fandom. Also, if you didn’t know, Jughead and all of the other characters are from a show called Riverdale, and oh my gosh, it’s such a great show! If you haven’t yet, check it out! Anywho, I hope you guys like it even if you don’t watch the show. Enjoy Munchkins!

When you first met Jughead Jones III, you were people watching. You often found yourself doing that when you needed inspiration for your art, so there you sat at Pop’s, watching as people came and went, hoping that any one of them would send a spark through your veins.

You sat for hours in the same position, hand hovering over your sketchbook, pencil cocked at the ready, eyes flitting from each customer. In each you found something that almost lit the fuse, but never caused a flame. You noted that you really liked Cheryl’s hair or the way Betty laughed with her whole body or how Archie grinned as he played another one of his songs or even when Veronica smirked, but none of it made your hand start gliding across the page.

So you waited some more, watching at Archie and Betty and Veronica left. Watching as Cheryl delicately ate her fries before waltzing out of the shop, her cronies following close behind. Watching as people from this small town of Riverdale left you feeling nothing but dejected. They gave you no motivation.

And then he walked in.


He hadn’t even made it all the way into Pop’s before your hand tingled. You hadn’t even waited before he was sat in his usual booth before you were sketching the way his head was tilted down, music blasting from his headphones and eyes fixed on his laptop. Fifteen minutes hadn’t even passed before he was calling you out for staring.

“Can I help you with something?”

For a moment, you couldn’t tell he was talking to you. You were so immersed in getting his lips right, that you sat for a solid two minutes not noticing until your eyes met his, an eyebrow raised in question. Your hand immediately stopped.

“I’m sorry, what?” You finally spoke, trying to seem unfazed by the way his eyes focused only on you, the intensity behind them almost making you break.  

Jughead rolled his eyes before returning his gaze back to the screen.

“I said, ‘Can I help you with something?’”


You were stuck. You had known Jughead all of your life. In such a small town, that was common, but you didn’t know Jughead. You’d only ever crossed paths at school, barely even making eye contact with one another, but here you were now, staring him in the eye while he sassed you. For all you knew, that could’ve meant he hated your guts. And from what you had heard from Reggie and Moose, you wouldn’t put it passed him to be a total dick to you.

But then there was what you had seen when he was with Archie. He was smirking most of the time, but he seemed genuine. It wasn’t hard to see the tells on Jughead’s face when all you had been working on for months was sketching the different ways people expressed the same emotion.

And there it was. The tell. He wasn’t exactly comfortable or excited about anything, but the way his eyebrows were looser than whenever you had seen him without his little group, it was clear that he wasn’t on the defensive. That was enough for you to respond with a less strict tone.

“Actually yeah, I need you to pout your lips for me,” you chirped, holding his gaze when his eyes flew up to look at you again.


You laughed at his wide-eyed expression.

“I’m kidding. But it would really help if you just went back to brooding and concentrating on your laptop. You’ve completely ruined the pose,” you teased, glancing down to the sketchbook as your hand worked on perfecting the curls that spilled from the boy’s beanie.

Jughead’s mouth hung agape for a few moments, sputtering as he tried to come up with a response, only to spit out a pathetic, “Why?”

Smiling slightly, you lift your sketchbook so he can see the drawing of him looking at his laptop. All that was missing was the shading, the few moles littering his face and the final touches on the headphones that had fallen to rest on his neck.

“So you were staring at me for a drawing?” Jughead asked after a few seconds of examining the sketch.

“I wasn’t staring,” you argued, lowering the drawing on to the table. “I was observing. For inspiration!”

Jughead snorted, a smirk over taking his lips. “Uh huh, sure.”

You wanted to argue, but suddenly your eyes noticed something.

“Oh! Stay still!” You cried, hand flying across the page as the shadows fell across him accordingly. “The shadows!”

Another snicker left his lips, but he made no sudden movements, so you didn’t complain.

Gaze flickering between page and person, you smiled when you noticed his eyebrows were looser than before.


Weeks went on like this, you going to Pop’s to people watch, and Jughead typing away a few booths down as he teased you about it. But slowly, as the weeks continued, the number of booths between the two of you decreased until one day you were sitting across from him.

You found that sitting closer to him meant getting to know him better as well. When the two if you weren’t occupied by your different art mediums, you talked and ate. In only a matter of sentences, you quickly learned that Jughead was quite the eater. The mere mention of food had his mouth watering and you giggling.

In between the eating–and stealing his food–you found out just how similar you two were. Movies were a must in your lives, but so was art and literature. You bonded over artists and authors and everything in between. But despite there only being miniscule similarities, they also ran deeper. Jughead had a bad home life, and while yours was far better than it used to be, it had once been on the brink of corroding; you both hid behind humor to avoid getting too serious for fear of never being able to get back to a lighter time; and worst of all, you both had no idea what to expect out of yourselves. The outside world was so set on sending both of you down differing, but certain paths. Paths neither of you were sure you wanted to follow. Paths neither of you were sure you could escape when the entire town was expecting nothing else. You both had that burden to bare, whether you liked it or not.

Of course, when the two of you were together, none of that mattered. You were both in good company, and the world wasn’t going to change that. Not when you were so adamant on focusing on taking a fry or two or perfecting his smirk on paper or getting to hear him let out a genuine laugh, and he was even less likely to give up his daily routine of swatting your hand away or typing away with a clear view of you right above his laptop screen or feeling your foot brush against his thigh innocently from where you had rested it on the seat across from you.

Along with the new seating arrangement, you were graced with having gotten to know Jughead’s friends. They were different than how Reggie or Chuck had described them, but you found yourself liking them. A lot.

Among the group, you had gotten rather close with Veronica. Despite her socialite exterior, she was funny and kind, a complete contrast to what you had expected. In a matter of days, the two of you were the best of friends, going out whenever the others were busy and getting to bond in a way you never had with anyone before. You had grown to love her company.

Betty, while not quite Veronica, was definitely a good friend. She was someone you could go to without feeling judged, and she was on board for just about anything you had to offer. She didn’t look it, but she definitely shared your dream for adventure.

Archie was different. You had spoken to him on occasion, but never to the point of feeling like good friends. Sure, he was nice before, but now you felt that you could joke around with him, not give a shy smile whenever you found yourself near him. It was a great development, you couldn’t deny that.

Of course, there was a downside of making friends with these people so quickly; they could see the development of feelings you had for Jughead.

It was slow at first, and you hadn’t even picked up on it. In fact, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if not for V pointing it out one day while you were sketching the beanie-clad boy. You had taken to drawing him whenever you couldn’t find motivation in the rest of the world, but in the process, you had also taken to drawing him in a new light. The once brooding boy was now surrounded by flowers, sparkles, hearts, you name it. Anything you enjoyed was now the background of anything involving the boy. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why until it was shoved in your face.

“Omg, you totally like Jughead!” Veronica had squealed, snatching your sketchbook as she flipped through the pages.

Inside were drawings of random things–Betty in her Homecoming dress, Archie playing his guitar, Veronica in the middle of her cheer routine, even some of Cheryl and Ethyl and Reggie–but as the pages continued to turn, it became blinding clear that many of them were covered with sketches of the resident wallflower.

Blushing, you pulled the book away, slamming it shut to avoid anyone else seeing its contents.

“I do not,” you countered, avoiding her gaze as you ignored the slow flutter of your heart.

“You do not, what?” Betty suddenly asked, slipping into the booth alongside V.

“(Y/N) likes Jughead!” Veronica exclaimed, effectively cutting you off.

Betty squealed. “Really? Oh my gosh, they would be so cute together!”

You wanted to argue, but the pounding of your heart objected to the lie about to slip from your lips. Stopping yourself, the only thing you could do was blush and listen to the raise of pitch of your two friends squealing.

Despite your new discovery, though, you tried to remain normal. You and Jug had fallen into a comfortable pattern, and you refused to let it ruin the relationship you two had.

So there you sat again, across from Jughead, trying to find something that got your hand working across the page other than said boy, but it was proving to be a rather difficult task.

You had just decided to give up the endeavor entirely when Jughead spoke.

“Hey, (Y/N), can you read this real quick? I think I overcomplicated a sentence,” he asked, already pushing the laptop in your direction.

Nodding with a small smile, your gaze takes in the words before your eyebrows furrow in thought. Realizing the mistake, your hands begin to fly across the keys as you explain what he had done.

“You’re going too into detail, so the sentence is getting too long. If you just–”

Your voice suddenly died in your throat.

“What?” Jughead asked when he noticed your reaction. “What’s wrong?”

But you weren’t listening; you were too focused on the page that had appeared on the screen due to a misplaced click.

(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), read the header, but the words underneath were what had stopped you in your tracks.

((Her eyes won’t stop sparkling. God, those big, beautiful eyes. And she’s laughing. It’s so contagious, that I want to laugh, too. But I’m supposed to be annoyed. Annoyed that she stole my fry, and that Archie is on her side about the whole ordeal. But is it really worth trying to act the part?

I couldn’t be annoyed with her if I tried. She makes me too happy to be annoyed. Too at peace. She makes the world seem like it’s going to be okay again. Like it doesn’t matter how everything is playing out right now. It doesn’t matter that Reggie and the other football guys find me to be an easy target. It doesn’t matter that I have to rely on my best friend’s dad to be the father figure in my life. It doesn’t even matter that this Blossom case is getting out of control and could lead to more deaths than we all could’ve imagined. Because she’s here, with me, enjoying every second we have together.

I want to spend every second I have together with her. I love–))

“(Y/N)!” Jughead suddenly exclaims, hand resting on your cheek. “Is everything okay?”

You want to nod and act like nothing happened. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t accidentally read through something so personal of Jughead’s. It wasn’t fair, and you knew that.

Instead, you blurted, “You like me!”

Jughead pales, hand falling from your cheek to the laptop as he turns it towards himself. He looks like he’s going to puke now, eyes washing over the once hidden document. A quiet, “shit!” leaves his lips as he slams his laptop shut. His eyes are on you, trying to gauge your reaction, but before you can say a word, he’s working his way out of the booth.

Before he can make it very far, your hand grabs his sleeve.

“Wait!” You plead, tugging him back gently. Despite your softness of the action, he tumbles back into the booth with a loud thump.

“(Y/N), I’m–”

You cut him off, shoving your sketchbook into his face. “Look!”

His lips made to argue, but you only pushed the book closer to him until he groaned and opened it.

You watched, sure your cheeks were glowing a bright red as color returned to Jughead’s face. Page after page seemed to fuel the tan’s return, until red made its way onto his cheeks as well. Finally reaching that last page, his gaze lifted to match yours, a smirk adorning his lips.

“Well, this is interesting,” he mused, trying to feign innocence. “It looks like little (Y/N) has a crush.”

Your heart pounded faster at his teasing tone, but you tried to push it away as you retorted with teasing of your own.

“Well, the same can be said for you, Jug!”

Jughead laughed, placing the sketchbook down gently.

“You aren’t wrong,” he mused. “The only problem is I don’t know if she feels the same way.”

His words were filled with questions. Questions directed towards you. Questions you had hoped he would one day direct towards you.

Slowly, a large smile forced its way onto your lips, leaning on to the palms of your hands with a flutter of your eyelashes.

“Oh, she is. I’m sure she’s just waiting for her crush to ask her out,” you teased, emphasizing the latter part of the statement.

The smirk on Jughead’s face was slowly melting into a real smile, chewing his lip as he tried to hide his nerves.

“How about I take her out then? I know a really great place. Their burgers are to die for. I’ll pay,” he laughed, eyes on you, having long forgotten the laptop and sketchbook.

You dropped your jaw on mock surprise.

“Jughead Jones wants to pay for a meal? What has the world come to?” You cried dramatically.

Jughead rolled his eyes, laughing nonetheless. “Gee thanks, Juliet.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you crone, “Doesn’t that story end in a tragedy?”

“Yeah, but we share the fact that we come from different worlds,” he explained.

You thought for a moment before nodding.

“As long as we don’t end up sacrificing ourselves for each other, then I’m game.”

“Oh, but of course. Where would I be without my muse?” Jughead teased, leaning forward slightly as your hands connected on the table.

You smiled at the sound of that.

“Or I without my inspiration,” you hummed, grinning at the feeling of his hand surrounding yours.

Meeting each other’s eyes, a sort of warmth washed over you before Jughead turned away, raising his free hand to gain the attention of a server.

As he occupied himself with ordering, your smile softened ever so slightly; you could already hear the sound of Veronica squealing.

Whenever Shaolin Fantastic wants to kiss Books, he hands him a cigarette instead. Or a blunt, a cigarette or a blunt, whichever is in his mouth. He fixes his lips on it one more time and then passes it over. Sometimes he has to hold it close to Books’ mouth to get him to notice it and being that close to his lips sends light and sparks and music tingling up from Shao’s fingertips to his shoulder and then zings down around his heart. Books takes it from his hand and it feels like recognition. Books sees him and he says yes. He takes the joint. And that’s his boy, you know. Always down for fucking anything as long as Shao’s the one offering, giving him the right explanation.

Shao always, always watches when Books puts his lips on the joint, right where Shao’s were a second ago. That’s a kiss, isn’t it? His lips on the paper off his lips. Take away the cigarette and take away the time in between their drags and it’s just lips on lips. 

When Books give it back to him – does he realize that their fingers touch everything he gives Shao the joint? – when Books holds out the joint Shao takes it and brings it right up to his mouth and sucks the lingering touch of Books’ lips off of it. He chases the kiss down the filter and doesn’t let it get away. 

He wants to eat the paper. Eat up the touch and warmth of lips, and eat Books’ words and his heart. Books is his wordsmith, his soul in another body and Shao wants to eat him up, eat him down, inside out and all over. He wants Books in his body and all around him and everywhere. Spinning is his life, but Books is his world. He doesn’t want to be places without him any more. Since the moment Books picked up that record, that was it for Shao. Shao and Books, that’s all he ever wants to be any more. 

This is the kind of shit that he wants Books to say for him, with all of his smart words. He thinks that maybe if he gives him just the right beat, if he finds just the perfect get down- maybe he can get Books to spill those words for both of them. 

You bring out the worst in me

✖ Characters/relationships: Original!Percival Graves x Reader

✖ Genres: Love/hate relationship, some sexual tension

✖ Summary: After Percival becomes your boss and starts ignoring what was between you, you can’t help but feel fury. Percival also masks his true feelings with anger. [Based on this imagine] @Anonymous

✖ Disclaimer: All characters are at least 21 y/o unless stated otherwise.

✖ Word count: 2413

A/N: I tried my best like I always do but I have some doubts about how this this fic ended up feeling like. It sounded much better in my mind if I’m being honest and I’m worried I did some wrongs with the whole scenario. I feel like I need to apologize if I disappoint you with this one. It’s quite hard to write Graves angry because I imagine him almost never losing his cool so I tried to make it subtle yet still in character for him. Did I succeed? You have to decide. Enjoy.

Keep reading


Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader.

Warnings: mild sexual content.

Word count: 650

Summary: Jake and the reader sneak off to handle some “urgent” matters…


My server has crashed like eight times, each with an edited version of this i’m so sick of this shit :))

Very short, I know, but I’m only testing the waters with this fandom and writing for this character. I really enjoy the show and so far I’m deeply obsessed with Peralta, so this was my go to cathartic experience for all the feels.



Y/N can barely contain herself.

In the silent confines of the closet, her breathing is labored, a jagged mess of pants and heaves. Her chest stutters up and down, falling as fast as it rises, and she struggles for breath. There’s none left in the tiny box. There’s nothing but the sound of clothes rustling and sweaty skin sticking together like glue as she goes in for another kiss. His hand slides down her side then to her waist, to the y/s/t skin peeping out from a lilac dress shirt, to her back and down to her ass, because, yeah, this is definitely more fun than filing paper work.


It comes as a whisper. A soft, sweet whimper dredged up from the deep, but it quakes the walls of the building with the weight it holds.


He groans, teeth clashing, tongue scavenging for hers, heart beating like a bomb ticking. God, it’s ticking. It has been since they stumbled into this closet, as though waiting to detonate and it’s so intense and a little bit disorienting, but heaven be dammed if he’s going to subdue it.

Jake’s hand slithers beneath her shirt and Y/N shivers at the contact. “Y/N…” He manages despite his nebulous mind.

“Jake…” she pants, lips screwed to his and muffling her speech. He flicks his tongue along her bottom lip and she let’s him, his hand clasping her cheek tight like a ripe apple.

“Uh-huh? “

“We shouldn’t be doing this…not here. “ Y/N leans back against the wall and he attacks her neck with his tongue, trailing wet kisses down from her jaw to behind her earlobe. She clamps her eyes shut, stifling a moan. She can’t. She shouldn’t. This is beyond unethical, breaching into pure sin she ought to be repentant for—but, dammit, it feels too good to stop.

Tipping her head back, she stutters a shaky breath as Jake goes to town, working his tongue down to the collar of her shirt and then back to the curve of her jaw. He’s attentive and precise. Within a second his lips are back on hers and Y/N feels the knot in her stomach coil tighter. Peralta .

Only Peralta.

Having been with him for six weeks now, she knows just as well as the sky is blue that only he can spark the fire burning in her belly. Only Jake can make the pulse of her blood run like a river, stir up a tsunami behind her ribs that makes her wonder if she’s sane. She can’t possibly be—the decision to be with him is enough of a an alibi, because who is crazy enough to date their colleague, let alone get steamy with them in the paper room?

“You okay?” His voice cuts through Y/N’s reverie, causing her to flutter her eyes open, meeting the deep brown ones a few inches away almost immediately. Her lips are wet and plump and there’s a heat pulsing in the pit of her stomach she can’t satiate.

Hooded eyes regarding him, she nods frantically. “We should get back. Terry’s probably looking for us.”


“And I don’t want my uncle blowing his top because he caught me making out with my colleague.”

“Well, they don’t call us partners for nothing.” Jake grins. Y/N punches him in the shoulder and his expression immediately consorts, a pout surfacing. “Ouch. Uncalled for.”

“Can we go now?”

“Nope. I’m not done with you yet.” He states. “Nor will I be until our desires are both satisfied. Now….” A mischievous smirk stretches across Jake’s face and, grabbing her hips, he hoists Y/N up against the wall.

Her resistance falters; a smile manages onto her face, and she shakes her head softly. The room is getting smaller and smaller and the temperature is rising, but it’s okay. Jake leans in, his face inches away, warm breath fanning her heated skin.

“…where were we?”


This is the closest thing to smut I’ve ever posted my face us still burning hot

As always, thank you for reading, likes/reblogs and follows are much appreciated. more B99 to come seeing as it is my current consuming obsession. I love Jake Peralta, he is perfect, I want him to be my second husband

Have a nice day!


requested by anon <3
  Hi! Could you do #36 with Cedric Diggory (if not then with James Potter?) Thanks! X
  + prompt list


That night was irritated by stars; they were barely a glance away, behind the window. The end of the school year was approaching and despite your efforts to make this year your year, you only mildly succeeded. The last batch of homework needed doing and so you sat around the Hufflepuff common room, by one of the few tables next to the lazily flicking flames of the fireplace. You had been busy, engrossed in the seemingly never ending small text that explained the complexities of herbs you had trouble pronouncing, when he had showed up and all of your plans to finish early were thrown out the same window those stars twinkled so beautifully. Cedric was always sweet. To you especially. He was raised a gentleman and with you it showed most- whilst with his friends he was more loose, goofy even, when you were around he chose his words carefully and never missed a chance to accidentally touch you – was it to simply carry your bag and let his fingers graze your own as you passed the strap, or pull you into a group hug when Hufflepuff won in Quidditch. To say the least, it wasn’t that surprising that he suddenly approached you.

The stars started to fade. Slowly, the sky inked with violet and red. You laugh echoed in the Common room. The two of you were sitting close with your knees barely touching, had discussed summer plans all night with lingering excitement in your voices despite being tired. He smiled sheepishly; resting his head in his palm as he nearly hogged the whole table, his elbow placed on your half-finished essay. It had been long forgotten admits the conversation. The charred wood in the fireplace stirred.

Cedric watched you closely, behind the sleepy daze of his eyes lied some sort of mixture of intense emotions he could only portray wordlessly; watched the way the lamps magically dimmed and let the morning light touch the delicate features of your face. Pleasant silence had settled.

“Say, (Name)…” A question rose in his mind and without thought he voiced it. You blinked, shaking the sleep off and humming softly, “Are you… are you going to the Quidditch World Cup?”

You smiled sadly, “No, I couldn’t…afford tickets…” You murmured, clearing your throat and suddenly in desperate need to do something with your hands instead of just letting them sit there. You fiddled with the papers, the quill, let your mind get distracted as he thought and re-thought his words.

“My dad works in the Ministry, he could get you a ticket.” He said. You stopped putting away your books, “I’d like you to go. With me.” He wasn’t as confident as he pretended to be, the strange shift in his voice betrayed him. Your heart leaped in your chest and you grinned.

Those two words, ‘with me’, were telling of their own and when he asked you out a second time, truly asked you out, it was as smooth as he had hoped for and as genuine as you had wished.

It’s dark. The night is irritated by stars. You sit still on the stone steps leaning up to the astronomy tower, a soft sniffle escaping you as you stare into the distance with no particular direction in mind. It’s cold, so high up. The only warmth that greets you is Hermione’s hand that rubs your shoulder lovingly, a frown knitting her brows together as her shushes and caring words fell on deaf ears. You gulp – your throat is dry and the lump that forms in the very middle makes it hard to breath.

“I-I just…” You rasp, turning to look at Hermione, “I just don’t understand…How can someone just not be here anymore?”

Cedric died. And there is nothing in this world that you or anyone else in the world could’ve done to save him.

Requests are open!