lots of vomit

[Major Spoilers] “Follow your true feelings!”: My Musings on P5′s Wildcard Couple

Can we talk about Morgana’s astute observations regarding Akechi’s true feelings for Akira? Can we talk about how (Morgana’s words–not mine) Akechi’s smile when he was hanging out with Akira had been genuine? This boy– who had distanced himself from everyone, who had wrapped himself up in layers upon layers of lies that he wears like a second skin, who had made revenge his one and only goal in life – had also, in spite of himself, serendipitously found kinship in the one boy whom he has decided that he has to kill. 

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anonymous asked:

imo, the fact that louis is stuck is why harry has this kind of leeway. or the other way around. no matter. it's just sad for the both of them, and esp louis whose team does not care about him, but just the stunts around him. in this lt001, i'll just blast the music, so the others would just be background noise.

Eh, I don’t agree with your first sentence. Harry has ALWAYS been able to play fast and loose with ambiguous quotes about his sexuality, gay innuendo, eccentric and feminine fashion choices, and so on…and actually, his allowance for that has increased over time. In direct contrast, Louis has been allowed to venture into those things less and less as the years have passed. I think the difference lies not in how their teams are playing off each other (I don’t think Harry is able to have more “gay” interviews because of Louis’ ironclad closet), but in how their own respective closets have always been different from one another. Harry was cemented as a womanizer so early on that he’s able to put minimal effort into reinforcing his closet because other people do the work for him. As we saw today, he can act gay as fuck and there will still be a huge defense squad claiming that he’s straight, claiming that he’s just joking around, claiming that he’s a huge advocate for the LGBTQ+ community and that’s all it is, claiming that he’s a true man in touch with his feminine side, claiming that he’s a straight man who’s not afraid to have fun and reject stereotypes, etc.

With Louis……it’s never ever been like that. He was super flamboyant and read as gay automatically to SO MANY PEOPLE back in the day, and over time, they’ve attempted to extinguish so many aspects of his true identity or shove them behind closed doors, and it continues to this day. People rave about so many of Harry’s photoshoots and fashion choices, and while I don’t think Louis would make the same choices in most cases because he’s his own person with his own distinct personality and fashion sense, when people try to make comparisons or act like Harry and Louis are so different because of the images they portray to the public, sometimes I just want to be like……do you guys really not realize that Louis would NEVER in a million years be allowed to do anything that veers even slightly from the hypermasculine, laddy, I’m-all-about-my-girl image they’ve been fine-tuning for years? Louis would NEVER be allowed to wear the clothing that Harry wore in Another Man or even Rolling Stone. Louis would NEVER be allowed to reject a model and get turned on by a man in an interview and then chuckle about it with the gay radio host and his stylist. His closet is so different from Harry’s, and it’s been that way for a long fucking time. And I’m not minimizing what Harry’s been through - his closet is less strict now, sure, but he’s been through some serious shit and what the media and fans do to him on a near daily basis with their het fantasies and linking him with every woman on the planet….it’s disgusting. But I feel like for a fandom that talks endlessly about how terrible their closets are, a lot of people don’t realize how much they’ve all bought the distinct images of both Harry and Louis in certain ways, despite the fact that both are at best, somewhat, and at worst, completely dictated by how different their closets are and always have been.

With Louis, it’s not just about the baby, or Eleanor. It’s everything. It’s years and years worth of publicly erasing his genuine self and making him little more than a shell of masculinity supported by his fake baby and fake girlfriend, with a career and family life and friendships and charity work and personality that always, always, always come second to everything straight about him. With the Observer, I had so much hope that this promo would show more of HIM, who he actually is, a dynamic and fascinating and lovely person, but then I see how things are going, and I look at how differently some things have gone for Harry, and then I realize that this is just going to be more of the same for Louis. And I don’t understand why and I don’t think I ever will, but it’s terrible to watch. It’s sad and so frustrating, but I won’t stop wanting better for him anytime soon.

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: jughead knew, he knew that FP wouldn't get better after a month, or even a year, and still he told his dad that he believed him and that he'd go live with him. he knew that it wasn't the best situation to put himself in and that even being homeless is better than this, but he agreed to go anyway because it would break his father's heart if he said no. this boy cares so much. he knows he's going to be let down but this is his Dad dammit and he can't help it but to care this much and bless those 30 seconds of clarity FP had to let jughead go with the andrews, it was probably the best thing he's done in a long time for a son that he honestly doesn't deserve, a son that is too good and too pure and what are you talking about i'm not crying, you're crying!
10

happy 28th birthday kim minseok! I’ve only be lucky enough to celebrate your special day 4 times, but I hope that in the future that you’ll always be happy and healthy. it’s hard to express the unbound affection I have for you, but I’ll try my best! I hope that when you face hardship, you continue to persevere; to work hard no matter what and to never give up your dreams. regardless of your success or failures, I will always look at you with kind eyes. no matter what you decide to do in life, I will try to support you to the best of my abilities. you have so much time ahead of you, I’m certain that you’ll be able to touch even more hearts like you have with mine and so many others already. thank you for being my sunshine on a cloudy day. thank you for always inspiring me, for always giving me a reason to try harder, and helping to better myself as a person. I’m glad we are able to grow together like this, following our own respective paths. I hope that you only have to walk the flower road, but I do understand that every person must face obstacles and hardship to grow and improve as a person. no matter what, I hope that everything you face help shape you into the person you will be tomorrow and way into the future. while I don’t know everything you have gone through, I do know that whatever most of it was, it has helped mold you into the person I see you now. far from perfect, since we’re all human, I still adore you anyways. your flaws that you might nitpick about, the haters who try to bring you down, please know that me and so many others will be here to support you and to lift you up from those painful times. your family, your members and your friends are there for you and that brings comfort to me to know that you’re not alone. regardless of what the future may bring, be unabashedly yourself and don’t be afraid to show the world just how amazing you are.

Sometimes it’s hard to explain to people how I simultaneously love girls so freaking much but also have internalized lesbophobia that makes it harder for me to view myself in a loving and committed relationships with a woman because of society’s fetishization of lesbians and wlw to the point where being with a girl just feels like I’m part of some kink to get straight men off

A Hero in Black (Part One)

Jughead x Reader

Request: Could you write something about the reader being missing and jughead being really worried. And when he finds the reader they have a really romantic moment and he saves her. But not the typical kind of romance. A jughead kind of romance.

Warnings: Kidnapping, swearing

Word count: 2,728

A/N: Think Brandon’s piece he performs at Idyllwild (The Fosters). That’s the kind of good she’s playing here.  I also tried third person so tell me what you think?? I also got very carried away, so I feel it deserves a second part, since i left the prompt kinda (okay very) unfinished. I can’t help myself, I love a good cliff hanger.


(Y/N) sits at home, playing the electric piano in her room. The grand piano downstairs isn’t tuned correctly, so she has to make due. College auditions are coming up, seeing as she’s a junior, and everything has to be perfect. She has at least three auditions for her top picks, and they are all a little less than two months away. She practices every day, for at least two hours a day with no distractions. Her parents barely even notice she’s there anymore, they’re so busy wrapped up in work and whatever else they have going on they couldn’t care less where she is or what she’s doing. They’re out of the house at bars and friends houses most of the weekday. It sounds worse than it actually is, this way, she can practice as loud as she wants anytime she wants without bothering anyone. She likes it like that.

 She has the music laid out in front of her, but she barely needs to look at it, the piece flows out of her fingers from memory. Her eyes close ever so slightly, really feeling every note and rhythm.

“That’s a really fancy version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star huh?” a voice makes her jump in her seat, causing her fingers to pound on a horrible combination of keys.

She turns her head to see none other than her best friend, and long-time secret crush Jughead Jones leaning on the window frame as he peeks in the room with his head.

“Actually that was Wheels on the Bus.” she mocks, smiling as she spins around on the piano bench, turning to face him, leaning her elbows on her knees.

She mentally kicks herself, because she almost forgot, it was Wednesday, the day that Jughead always comes to write his novel when she practices.  He says her playing makes him write better, or something, but she can hardly believe it.

He climbs in through the open window and takes a seat on the bench right inside it, flopping his book bag on the floor as he does so.

“Well don’t let me interrupt.” He says, holding his hands up as he leans against the window frame before shoving them in his pockets, their usual location.

She can’t help but smirk as she turns back to the piano, placing her fingers lightly over the keys before picking up where she left off before she was so rudely interrupted.

She leans into your music this time, her whole body moving with the notes, and in that moment she could’ve stayed there forever, surrounded by the sound of keys filling the room. She almost forget someone is in there with her, before hearing a light clapping while hitting the last notes.

She lets out a breath, turning to see Jug smiling at her.

“That was good for a beginner.” he teases, getting up and motioning for her to move over.

She obeys, making room for him on the bench in front of the instrument.

He makes a big deal about cracking his knuckles and waving them a whole bunch before overdramatically placing them on the keys ‘delicately.’ She stifles a laugh, putting a hand over her mouth as she waits for what he’s going to do next.

He raises his hands ever so slightly before coming down fast, pounding several dissonant keys before continuing to play what she can only discern as some awful combination of the two mentioned kids songs.

Her hands reflexively go to Her ears, chuckling at his serious face while plays a few more chords, before he finishes with sliding his hand up to the highest note and back down again.

She slowly drops her hands, only slightly concerned he would continue.

“What, no applause?” he asks, giving her the side eye with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you should stick to the keys of the laptop variety.” She tells him, nudging his shoulder.

“Yeah, right.” he scoffs, getting up and going over to his backpack. He sits on the bench by the window again, pulling out his laptop and opening it, “The Jason Blossom case has stalled for the past few months. They haven’t found anything new. My novel has remained a blank page.” he says, looking at something on his laptop.

“Who cares what the cops are saying, weren’t you doing your own investigation with Betty?” she asks, trying not to sound too jealous or put any emphasis on the question. She has to remind herself that he’s allowed to hang out with other people besides her, even if that includes one of the most beautiful girls in school that she could never compete with.

She knows that he’s been investigating for a long time with her, but strangely he’s never talked about it that much. Her guess is that he doesn’t want to bother her with it, her focus being on music and all. She really wouldn’t mind hearing about it, though.

“Yeah, but that came to a screeching halt when we found the car on fire and Polly came home. She said she didn’t have time, but wished me luck.” he says, pulling up the document the novel is located in. Sure enough, it hasn’t been written in in a few weeks.

“You must have been getting close.” She says, taking the music off of the stand and putting it away in a folder on the floor next to her. She contemplates for a moment on the solution. Jughead is obviously very passionate about this, at least for the sake of his novel, and she doesn’t want him to stop something he loves doing. “What if I help you?” she proposes.

“What? (Y/N)? Really?” that gets him to look up, “but you have those auditions, I can’t rope you into all this.”

“Nonsense. I’ve practiced so much my hands might as well fall off and I’ll still be able to play.” She jokes, earning a small smile from her best friend, “come on, let me help.”

He sits and looks at your for a few moments, adjusting his beanie, a strand of his black hair falling to the side of his face as he does.

It seems like the silence goes on forever, when really it’s probably only a few seconds.

“Okay.” He finally says, “but only when you have actual freetime, not when you’re supposed to be practicing.”

“Deal.” she says with a smile, standing up to join him at the window, “when do we start?”


About two weeks later she is in full on investigation mode, while still practicing every day, her audition dates growing closer by the minute. Jughead still comes over every Wednesday, but she sees him a lot more often now. She’s not opposed, but their Wednesday sessions of just sitting with each other while she plays and he writes still hold a special place to her.

Today, in the early Monday afternoon, she’s  in the room with all of the pictures and connections all over the wall, looking over the latest work. They were getting close, she could feel it.

“So he roped you into this?” She hears someone ask, looking over to see Betty, smiling as her hands are on her hips, raising her eyebrows.

You give her a half smile, “More like I volunteered.” she says with a shrug.

“Why?” Betty smirks, walking over, her blonde ponytail bouncing with the sway of her walk.

“I think you know.” (Y/N) says, crossing her arms in a light-hearted way.

“Enlighten me.” Betty gestures to the board, looking at it with (Y/N).

“I wanted to spend more time with him.” (Y/N) admits, a blush coming over her cheeks. She’s a bit surprised at herself for telling Betty this. They’re not really friends, (Y/N) only know her through Jug. It’s the honest truth, though, and it’s not incriminating for a girl to want to spend more time with her best friend. And a friend of Jug is a she could deal with, she tells herself. She only half believes it, though.

“He talks a lot about you.” Betty says, “he talks about the way you play, the jokes you guys make.” she has a sad smile over her face, like there was something she was just realizing.

“Well you guys are pretty close, too. He practically ditched me to hang out with you.” (Y/N) rebuttals, trying to not sound too sassy about it. She knew it wasn’t Betty’s fault, at least not completely.  

Betty stands there, looking at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asks, noticing Betty’s change in attitude almost immediately.

Betty takes a few breaths, closing her eyes, taking a few moments before responding, “We kissed.”

“What?” (Y/N) asks, turning towards her. A shock going through her system she wasn’t expecting. That can’t be possible, surely Jug would’ve told her something like that. Her vision begins to spin as she tries to process what she’s heard.

“I -we- Jug. I kissed him.” Betty says again, an apologetic look coming over her face, like she’s done something terribly wrong.

“Oh.” is the only thing that can come out of (Y/N)’s lips, her world shattering around her. There was a sliver of hope before today, just a small one that maybe he would like her back, but now… she wasn’t so sure.

“It was nothing, I swear.” Betty lies, trying to make it feel better, trying to erase the bomb she just gave (Y/N). Betty knows that what happened between her and Jughead was wrong in some capacity. Betty knew that deep down, Jughead wants (Y/N), but Betty can’t help her feelings.

“Sure.” (Y/N) says, brushing Betty aside as she walks out of the room and down the school steps. She needs to get away, she decides, just for today. She needs to disappear for the afternoon to think.

She walks as far as she can away from town, wanting to get some fresh air. She knows that she’s probably being a little over dramatic, but at the same time she doesn’t care. If Jughead is her best friend, why is he still such a mystery?

A car pulls up beside her, but she doesn’t think anything of it. She isn’t concerned with anyone else now.

She hears a window roll down, but she ignores the sound.

Her heart beats are starting to increase, though, making the slow moving car feel like a heavy weight on her chest. There is definitely something fishy going on. She begins to speed up, but the car starts to follow. She slows down, it keeps pace.

She’s afraid to look over now, but out of her peripheral vision she can see a figure in a mask, driving a white van with tinted windows. Of course, the most obvious thing parents tell their children to stay away from.

She closes her eyes for a moment to catch a breath, trying to decide on what to do. She is too far out of town to run all the way back without causing a scene or them catching up. Her phone is in her backpack, and it will be too obvious as to what she’s doing if she tries that.

She’s stuck.

A touch catches her off guard as she spins around, and then doubles over in pain as the man makes a swift punch to her gut. Her backpack falls to the ground, her notebooks falling all over the gravel side of the road.

Before she knows it she’s being thrown in the back of the darkened vehicle, the stench of alcohol and weed filling her nostrils, making her gag. Her hands are tied tightly behind her back with rope before whoever her captor is closes the door, plunging her in darkness.

The car begins to move, and she has a sinking feeling she might be in some deep shit.


Jughead knocks on the bedroom window later the in the week, on Wednesday, of course. He hasn’t seen in her in a few days, seeing as they don’t have any classes together, he assumes she was probably busy practicing and taking a bit of time off from the murder case.

The window is closed, which is unusual. Normally (Y/N) leaves the window open a crack for him, always playing piano. He loves to sit and listen to her play, teasing her and writing when he has the time.

Her playing is one of the only things that can calm him in the midst of dealing with his dad and his novel. Her help with the murder is beginning to lighten the load, it seems like she spends just as much time on making connections as she does making music.

He cups a hand around his eyes as he peers in through the window, looking for a sign of her in the room. There’s nothing, though, which is also odd. He has been coming over every Wednesday since he can remember, since they were little kids. He comes in through the window, always.

He pulls out his phone and opens a text message to her.

‘i need to play my rendition of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” for you. where are you?’ he writes, pressing send, trying to make it sound as light hearted and not needy as possible. He knows she’s busy, that she may still be doing school work or out running errands, but it’s just so unlike her to not be practicing in her room on a weekday afternoon.

There’s no response, so he waits. He waits for an hour, which turns into two.

Soon it’s sunset, and still no sign of (Y/N).


The next day, Thursday, he approaches Betty.

“I need your help.” he says, making her heart flutter in her chest despite her protests to make it stop.

“What is it?” Betty asks.

“I know you said you don’t want to do any more investigating, but I think (Y/N) is in trouble.” he says under his breath.

“What? No, I just saw her Monday.” she says, pulling the books she is carrying closer to her chest.

“She wasn’t there yesterday. She’s always there on Wednesdays.” he says, a sinking feeling coming over his chest. Deep down, he knew.

“Maybe she forgot?” Betty shrugs. It’s not like she doesn’t care, because she does, she just knows that her and (Y/N) are in rocky territory right now, and she’s not even sure if she could call them friends. She wants to be friends, but knows it probably won’t happen.

“She doesn’t forget.” He argues.

“She’s probably fine, Jug, you’ll probably see her later. Don’t worry about it.” she dismisses him as the bell rings, walking down the hall.

The thing is, he can’t dismiss this feeling. This feeling of trouble.

He adjusts his beanie and begins to make a plan, trying to think like (Y/N) would. He exits the school, walking down the road. He notices a music notebook along the road out of town, and he knows she was there. She must have dropped it, or it must have fell. He looks around, and only then does he notice skid marks driving off the road on the other side of the road. They were fresh, like they had been caused only a few days prior. The tracks continued through the grass, off into the distance.

He contemplates what to do, looking at her stuff once more.

He kneels down and opens the notebook, reading the music notes on the page. On the top, the title of the song read, “A Hero in Black”. Underneath, “for Jughead”. His heart wrenched, looking at all of the marks on the page. It looks as if it’s been redone about a million times, pencil marks everywhere, notes appearing in patterns he can’t understand. There’s a pain in his chest, and suddenly he knows.

It took her disappearing for him to realize, but he likes her, and he needs to tell her. He may be overreacting, but a part of him doesn’t care. Wherever she is, he needs to get to her, in a cheesy-romantic kind of way that kind of makes him of want to vomit, but pulls on his heart like nothing else ever has.

And so, he sets off down the road, not knowing where it’ll take him.


Tag list: @always-chocolate @theselfishllama @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @idle-lanes @xbobaaa @juneb (If you wanna be on my tag list, just ask!)

Part Two Here

[ image description: A screen shot of a post that reads “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” Someone has crossed this out with a big grey X and underneath added “No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they’re worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.” End of descripton ]

I hate this post, I hate it so much. And let me tell you why.

At first it seems like a pretty good post, right? You should love people and do things for them because you want to or because it’s nice, or just because you love them, not because you expect something in return. Yeah. We learn that as kids. But listen. Listen to me. It is not that simple. Yes you should do nice things for people. Carry in your grandmother’s grocerys even if she forgets to say thank you. Sure. But you should never, never, pour yourself into someone who does not give back to you.

Doing everything for someone who gives you nothing in return is not love.

A friend of mine worded it really well “The point of the original post was to emphasise that your own mental/physical health is more important than someone’s selfish needs.” It’s not romantic to run yourself into the ground for someone who can’t even be bothered to care about you. And not only is it not romantic, it’s unhealthy.

I have, on more than one occasion, “crossed oceans” for people who I do believe loved me, but who didn’t even come close to crossing them for me. And do you know what I got out of that? The first one I lost 10 pounds because I was so miserable I could barely eat and I was throwing up what I did eat. And I was still doing whatever I could to be with them, and make them happy, even though they didn’t seem to be willing to put any work in themself. Why bother, I was always there. The second one I ran my own mental health so thin that that literally could not do anything for him, all I could do is sit in the bathtub and think about how I coudln’t feel anything. But I still refused to turn my phone off and ignore his messages. I still made myself avaible to him because he “needed me.”

There was nothing romantic about either of those situations (note: only one was a romantic relationship but the idea of giving and giving and giving when you’re gettin nothing back is romanticized whether it’s in a romantic or platonic relationship.) There was nothing beautiful or selfless about it. It was miserable. I was miserable. I can remember one of my friends telling me he missed me because all I could talk about was the person I had allowed to become my whole life.

And in the end, both of them stopped talking to me.

Don’t believe anyone when they say the second part of that post. It’s bullshit and I’m really tired of seeing it romanticized. It tells people (especailly young girls) that this is an okay way for a relationship to be, that this is what they should be doing. 

There is nothing selfish about demanding that your emotional labour be reciprocated. That’s what makes a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) healthy. That’s what love is. Both people giving. Both people supportin each other. Not one person giving until they have nothing left for themself. 

there are a lot of people accusingly asking ‘what are the good Muslims doing about this’. here’s the thing. you don’t see what happens behind the scenes here. There have been many more plots by IS-inspired people disrupted, and many rely on informants or other people in the british muslim community. Like the man arrested at whitehall whose family reported him to the police before that, which is why they managed to stop him before he could hurt anyone. there are also many people running anti-radicalisation initiatives. Dealing with a dispersed threat like terrorism is always more difficult than conventional military threats; the police have to deal with a huge amount of information and it’s challenging to figure out which are credible threats. the fact that someone unfortunately got through doesn’t mean the entire country has its head in the sand or that british muslims have been passively letting this go on. 

these terrorist attacks are a new phenomenon relative to how long the british muslim community has been here. this wasn’t always our image of terrorism. it is not a dramatic clash of civilisations or inherent cultural incompatibility, but a distinctly modern phenomenon spawned by 20th & 21st century geopolitical dynamics and developments. this mentality that it comes down to the inherent nature of islam being inimical to ‘western’ culture completely ignores how this type of extremism can be traced to modern developments. IS may proclaim itself a ‘caliphate’ ostensibly in homage to those of old, but they are distinctly modern in their ideological origins, manipulation of technology and tactics of violence. 

after all, ‘terrorism’ in the united kingdom used to make everyone think ‘IRA’, not IS or Al-Qaeda. and as we saw from the murder of MP Jo Cox, it also comes in the far right nationalist variant. it is definitely the responsibility of all of everyone to be vigilant and report anything suspicious. it’s definitely true IS markets itself as the ‘true’ Islam and tries to recruit disaffected people from the british muslim community. but apart from that? innocent until proven guilty applies. unless we want to throw out our entire system of laws and way of life. there is a problem, but knee-jerk prejudice isn’t going to solve it. precisely when the cooperation and good ties between law enforcement and communities has been very crucial to disrupting past attacks & is exactly what we need now. 

yes, i’ll freely admit i think this way because i live in a very multicultural part of south england & i was born in majority muslim seasia where my family was a minority (they’re christians). maybe people think this attitude is naivete, from being sheltered and ignorant. but you know what? it’s people in the multicultural cities of europe that are themselves at the biggest risk of terrorism in the first place- compared to the more suburban, rural parts of europe that also tend to be more ethnically homogeneous. (IS terrorists don’t check to see that all their targets are only non-muslims do they, when they decide to walk in with a bomb or mow people down?) we live it and we know it. far from being sheltered, it’s often on your mind when you go to a crowded event or step onto public transport- that what if. but we try our best to carry on because we’re not going to change our way of life because of this tiny minority. 

For some reason, I could not find this scene. Like I know it exists, but I couldn’t find it. Anyway, I’m gonna roll with this! For @jigglejaggle (Sorry this sat so long!)

It didn’t take long for the Paladins to learn to not underestimate their Bayards.

When Pidge shocked Lance with hers, she didn’t mean it as anything other than an annoyed jab to hush the boy, and when he fell to the ground, she smirked.

But, he didn’t come back up.

“Um, guys?” She started, staring at Lance with furrowed brows, and when Lance suddenly started convulsing, she cursed loudly. “Shit! Guys!”

Keep reading

I know this probably goes without saying but Alec and Magnus as individuals are so fascinating and complex. Each with such well-rounded, real struggles and stories. They are both so strong in different ways and vulnerable in others. It would take me far too long to name all of their unique qualities that make them the amazing, fleshed out characters that they are, mostly in part thanks to the insightful performances of Matt and Harry. But the depth that they have seriously blows me away. Alone, they are some of the most interesting, flawed, intriguing characters I’ve ever seen. And the fact that they are in love with each other and compliment each other and help fill in each other’s missing pieces in this sweet, chaotic, inexplicable RIGHT-ness is so incredible and we are so lucky to have these characters in our lives.

I know a lot of people are pissed at Percy for being angry at Scanlan, but at least to me, its so obvious that Percy is hurting. It’s so clear to me that he misses Scanlan so much and that makes Percy angry. He’s angry that someone could abandon their family like that and yet he still misses him and wants him back. I think Percy was angry when he saw Scanlan happy is because it means he might not come back. 

I also think the whole thing about Percy wanting his stuff back is Percy just wanting an excuse to go see Scanlan, because getting mad and demanding things back is so much easier than “i miss you so much please come back to us” 

Its been shown multiple times in the past that Percy tends to hide his real emotions behind anger. 

I don’t know if thats whats actually happening or if thats how Taliesin meant for it to come off as, but thats what I’m getting out of it

badboy!namjoon; blue jeans

i was like, “no please, stay here, we don’t need no money we can make it all work,” but he headed out on sunday, said he’d come on monday

[lana del rey insp. drabbles]

Namjoon never believed in begging for someone for anything.

He thought it was pathetic. To say the words that’ll wrap you to your knees, plea with each syllable dripping what’s left of your dignity. No, Namjoon could never imagine himself doing that.

Namjoon was on his knees, holding onto your hand. Saying anything and everything he could to make you stay. Hoping what he says would root you to your feet and pull you back from walking out of that door yes, Namjoon still thinks it’s ridiculous to beg.

But he’s drowning in a love so deep he can’t think straight. Hurricanes of his own emotions scaring him how possible it is to love someone this much that no number of scars could combat the pain he feels watching you leave. One step further triggers his nerves to contract around his heart, suffocating him with his mistakes and imperfections but Namjoon doesn’t stop trying.

Because how could he ever when it’s you?

His best isn’t enough when your fingers slip past his with a determined mind to walk away. Maybe not forever, maybe for a couple of days. For certain you’re not to stay and Namjoon has to deal with the stab in his chest as there’s no hesitation in your decision to open the door and leave. The door that closes only follows his cue of his fists meeting the ground.

It hurts, as if someone punctured through his chest to rip his heart out and you walked over it like it’s nothing and for Namjoon, someone who has gotten into more fist fights than the number of fingers, toes combined… the pain he feels now can never compare.

More OTP prompts
  • you’re dating my best friend but i think i might be falling in love with you
  • we sit next to each other in the park every day during our lunch breaks and one of these days i will have the guts to say something to you
  • we both want the same shoe but there’s only one pair left in what happens to be both of our size
  • you fell off your skateboard, i laughed and you saw me
  • ben & jerry’s is giving away free ice-cream and we team up together to find out where their stupid truck is so that we can gorge ourselves on the goodness
  • your kid threw up on my in the waiting room at the hospital
  • you caught me in the library watching hours of pimple popping and blackhead squeezing videos but didn’t say anything because they fascinate you too
  • “hi i know you don’t know me but i have no idea where i am and i really need the bathroom, can i please use yours?”

‘you know, i’m one of the people privileged to be ‘in the know’ and…i suppose it’s not such a wild idea or unbelievable concept to wrap your mind around, if you think about it. ideas, hopes, dreams…all that may be intangible in the beginning, but they translate into actions that move and shake our world, don’t they? and so, out of our imaginings and ideas, we fashioned them, made them in our image- in flesh and bone, with all our morals and ideals and hypocrisies and sins. but the one thing i’ve never got used to…that i can’t help find unnerving- is how young those two look.

children, but not-children; behind that youthful face, in their eyes, the weight of the decades, the centuries.’

4

anonymous asked: my “across time and space they will always find each other” pairing
➪ ziley

anonymous asked:

Jeremy breaks a leg during a heist and he starts to feel like a burden on the rest of the crew while he's recovering. He's not and they love him but he starts spiralling into self hate and thinks he's worthless

At first they think he’s going to be the one Lad (+ Ryan) who will sit still with an injury. They think it’s a good thing when he lays in the bed instead of trying to leave every five seconds. They miss the anxious look in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. They think him being close to tears was just the exhaustion of the heist that day. They don’t see him get little sleep that night.

He’s been through other crews before. He knows the Fakes are different, but even still. He knows a useless crew member isn’t a crew member for much longer. He can’t help but worry about his days being numbered.

He knows though he needs to get his leg to heal as much as he can before he’s kicked out. It’s why he isn’t up right away, it’s why he’s trying to not move too much. It’s why he’s actually following Caleb’s instructions. It’s why the others don’t pick up on it at first.

One of them catches him crying during the first week. He tries to keep it hidden, tries to not let any of them catch onto his mood. Let them see him even more weak. He lies to them about it, pulls off some excuse of his leg hurting him. They don’t buy it but they don’t push. He is allowed his privacy after all. He takes it as them not caring.

The downward spiral gets worse. He doesn’t eat, poking at his food. He doesn’t do anything around the penthouse. He is trying to convince himself that he’s conserving energy, getting used to not having much to eat. That’s not really it, but he continues to tell himself that anyway.

They don’t kick him out as he’s healing, and while some of it is a relief, it only seems to make him more scared. He doesn’t know why they’re keeping him around, can’t seem to understand how much they care. He isn’t used to people caring. He’s used to people only being interested in him because he can fire a gun or he can fight. They kept him around because he was useful. They didn’t even care enough to try to like him, just paid him for his fists or his thievery. It’s hard to get used to a crew caring.

It takes a bit for them to get him out of it once they notice. When Geoff sees how little he’s eating, how much is always left on his plate. When Ryan sees that Jeremy’s bedroom light would still be on even when he was going to bed late. When the Lads realize when they haven’t seen Jeremy out playing video games with them for a while. When Jack catches him for the second time crying into his pillow.

They all cuddle with him in the bed, refusing to leave his side no matter how much he insists he’s fine. They all surround him in warmth and love, reassuring that they care, telling him how much they love having him around. It helps, slowly they get his smile again. They get his laughter. And he slowly gets better, knowing just how much they do care.