misc: idek

Just a SVTFOE theory

Ok so like Baby compared Star to Queen Eclipsa But why is she considered so powerful? Queen Eclipsa was a queen of darkness. A really powerful queen I bet And she fell in love with a monster Based on the recent SDCC panel, it was kinda confirmed that Marco is a half-monster because his monster arm made him so And Star fell in love with him I kinda theorize that What if queens that fall in love with monsters become really dark and powerful And that’s why Mewmans and Monsters can only be enemies idk its just a theory lol

  • dean: *runs through purgatory looking for cas and praying to him every night*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • cas: *gives up an entire army of angels for dean*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • dean: *risks his life for cas*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • cas: *hugs dean with longing all over his face*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • dean: *calls cas sunshine*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • cas: *is told dean is his human weakness*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • dean: *gives cas a mixtape*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • cas: *tells dean he loves him*
  • spn writers: platonic
  • dean: *sucks off cas' dick*
  • spn writers: platonic

i can picture lance over the years trying to drop hints that he wants to marry keith in the wittiest ways like “hey do you know you traditionally need something blue at weddings?” “oh? yeah!” “well….i’m the blue paladin you see, we don’t need extra objects for it :)” and keith gets the hint and cries tears of joy

“Where did you get that nail polish?”
“murdoc”

He didn’t mention that he gave him a manicure, too.
This is stupid I’m sorry what have my life become

When I Lost You - Part I - Jaehyun x Reader - Fuckboy HighSchool!AU

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Requested by: @kpop-killed-me, I don’t know if I’ll make a part two????? but enjoy the angst!!

Word Count: 1313

Trigger Warnings: Offensive Language

Genre: Fuckboy HighSchool!AU, Angst


To everybody else, he was Jung Jaehyun. 

Senior star athlete, extreme womanizer and playboy, and the guy everybody wanted to be friends with, regardless of the consequences.

To you, he was once Jung Yoonoh; the quiet shy kid who sat by you in the library and showed you funny videos of cats on the internet when the librarian wasn’t hovering over you.

The transformation happened towards the end of sophomore year.

When you had been freshmen, the two of you were seatmates, so you ended up accidentally spending a lot of time together.

Projects were done together at cafés and ice cream parlors, cramming for midterms took place in either one of your rooms for hours on end, and by the end of freshman year, you had had a new best friend whom you could tell anything to.

That summer, you guys spent your time at the beach and parks or at comic book stores, looking through old ones people forgot even existed and pointing towards funny looking characters saying, “Oh, look, that’s you,” before bursting into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

When you got bored of going outside, in you went. Movie and show marathons, gaming sessions that ended at past midnight and had you lectured by your families, and sessions where you’d sit there and talk about anything and everything.

That was when it started.

You had accidentally said something and his eyes had widened, asking you to say it again as he scrambled up to look for a notebook and a pen.

He jotted down the words you had just said, a fire kindling inside of him as he smiled slowly, reading over the new lines he’d added.

“What’s that?” you had asked curiously, shifting a little closer so you could try and peek.

“It’s where I write my lyrics,” he explained bashfully, his neck and ears tinging red.

“Lyrics?” your voice perked up, grabbing the notebook before he could protest and reading some of the things he’d written.

“Okay, wow. These are good,” You murmured absently as you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration, making him smile and look down at his feet.

“I want to become an idol someday. A singer. I want to make my own music and sing them to my fans so they can enjoy the music like I do.”

You had looked up at him, grinning. “When are you going to audition? Why have you never told me about this before?” you asked happily.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he had answered, scratching his head shyly. “And probably in a year or two. I want to train first so I could be a good candidate. I don’t even know what song to pick.”

You thought about it, wondering about what he could sing.

You had given him a few suggestions, and even though he sounded terrific, he didn’t feel comfortable with any of the songs.

“Why don’t you just write your own audition song?” you had exclaimed, making him smile.

“That’s an idea! But… what if it’s not good enough?” he fretted, kicking up the dust with his feet as he worried.

“Forget it,” he said at last, “I’ll just find a song, eventually. There’s still plenty of time left.” He smiled at you, and you knew exactly what you had to do.

Sophomore year had started, and you had begun working on composing a song for him. Just because he had no faith in himself didn’t mean that you had none, either.

Anytime he spoke about his dream, his eyes would light up and he’d describe just how moved and happy he would be if he ever got to achieve it. It fueled your inspiration, and your lyric-writing skills began to flow.

It took you a few months, trying to get the right words and to compose the right music that would convey the emotions of the song properly, but you eventually did it.

During these months, he had joined the school’s basketball team, becoming the MVP quite quickly and training after hours, making you see him less and less.

You had been lucky enough to see him in the hallways sometimes, and he had started dismissing your texts and calls, bailing on your plans so he could hang out with his team and the new cheerleaders that had made the cut.

It was the day you had wanted to show him the lyrics, about a week or two before sophomore year ended, when you caught him at school.

You had stayed late in the library trying to finish a science project due the next day, and you’d finally succeeded.

“Yoonoh? Hey, wait up!” you called out as you jogged to his spot. He wasn’t alone.

“Um, who is this person?” laughed one of the cheerleaders.

“Yoonoh?” asked a jock with a lifted eyebrow, snickering.

He rounded on you, furious.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a low, menacing voice. “Can’t you tell that I’m busy?”

Your expression fell and you gulped, not expecting this reaction out of him at all. Never had you seen him act this way during the two years you had hung out.

“Are you okay? I’ve been texting and calling you about- “

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” he whisper-yelled, the others very clearly listening in and laughing at you.

“Take a hint, honey,” said the other cheerleader of the group, winking at you pathetically.

“I’ll meet you outside, guys,” he said, and they all exchanged looks before they muttered their ‘whatever’s’ and shuffled outside.

“What the hell is your problem?” he asked roughly once they were out of earshot.

My problem? What the hell is yours? Since when have you been like this? Since when have you hung out with such people or talked like that? I’ve been trying to reach you for days, and here you are -” you furiously replied, but he cut you off.

“You never thought that maybe giving you no answer was an answer?” he sneered, and you were taken aback.

“No. I didn’t. Because my best friend, Jung Yoonoh, would never do what you’re doing.”

“It’s Jaehyun,” he corrected.

“What?”

“My name is Jaehyun. Stop calling me by my other name.”

Other name? Do you even hear yourself?!”

“Hey, look, fuck off, alright? I don’t need this right now and I’m not in the mood for it either,” he spat bitterly, making you huff as you tried to contain your anger.

“Here I was, working to make your dream come true while you threw yourself away at cheerleaders and people who don’t even know your name.”

“You don’t know me,” he shot back.

Yes I do! But I guess not anymore,” you concluded, drawing the music sheets and lyrics out of your bag and looking at them pathetically.

“Here,” you said, shoving your arm outwards so he could take them, but he only looked down at you and turned away.

“I don’t want your stupid biology notes,” he mocked, beginning to walk, and you threw the papers at his back, making him turn furiously and take an intimidating step closer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, but you didn’t even flinch.

“They’re yours,” you stated plainly, walking past him towards the end of the hallway so you could leave before the tears spilled.

“And lose my number.”

Already have,” he spat as the door slammed shut behind you.

That was the last you’d spoken to him, when he started going through girls like they were tissues and having parties at his house every other night.

And here you were now, in senior year, opening your locker to find a paper from an entertainment company praising ‘Jung Yoonoh’ for being accepted as a trainee because of his wonderful performance. And the name of the song used at the audition was stated.

It was yours.