nothing good cames out of it

gimmeyourname  asked:

Ok, it's gonna be long and I'm sorry for that. I feel awkward because I came out as genderfluid to my friends but lately felt more androgynous, and because my country's society frowns at people who don't comply with the gender they're attributed at birth, I have to keep going in public as a girl, which makes me feel good about my feminine appearance. At times I feel like I shouldn't really call myself genderfluid, but sometimes I feel it's the best description. Do you see anything wrong in this?

There’s nothing wrong with that. Your presentation and your gender are totally different things, and liking feminine things doesn’t take away from you androgyny. If you feel like genderfluid is what you are, then you’re genderfluid. Just go with whatever feels right to you bud. 💅

I would say a lot of things are making Overwatch die other than just because new games are coming out.

Mainly:

  • Lack of lore that’s making people lose interest. Canceling the graphic novel and just saying “let fans work it out” was not a good choice. People are interested in the characters, and when you’re given nothing a year later chances are they’ll just get frustrated and find something else
  • Lack of progress in character’s stories (remember Symmetra and Lucio’s stories when it comes to the Vishkar plot? And Yeah Zarya now knows what Katya did but nothing really feels like its changed)
  • Bad understanding of representation and/or not keeping your promises (remember those multiple LGBT characters that we were promised that for some reason couldn’t be revealed when the game first came out?)
  • Not fixing broken game mechanics and instead focusing on fan favorites (There was no need for a Mercy rework, reworks went to characters like Symmetra because she was the least played and because her mechanics made it so she wasn’t very versatile in game. Healers that weren’t Mercy that needed buffing on their healing mechanics are being ignored, buffed in the wrong abilities, or nerfed, and still makes Mercy the primary healer choice. Doomfist, a character that was recently introduced, is still broken and needs to be looked at before buffing Junkrat again)

being mean to homeless people is so unbelievably shitty like dont kick people when theyre down. dont refer to homeless people as riff raff or whatever that’s so dehumanizing and cruel. ive had coworkers say they cant wait for the cold winter to come and “get rid of” some of the homeless people that come into our store like why would you say that? where is your empathy? what the fuck?

last night there was a Ton of rainfall and all this rain was coming out of the gutter and a lady who worked security for this grocery store my job is next to came up to me and joked about how finally all the smelly homeless people could have a shower. i was really taken aback by this and responded with “that’s not a good idea, that would give someone pneumonia and if they dont have shelter theycould very easily die” and she fucking Laughed and told me it would help “cut down on the riff raff.” like why dont you just go die lady you have nothing to offer this planet if you think like that.

remember in gold and silver how azumarill was just flat-out terrible it was a water-type with mediocre bulk and no offensive presence and no interesting moves outside of belly drum and even that was questionable, completely useless and outclassed

then gen 3 came along and it got huge power and suddenly its attack stat was actually fantastic but it still wasn’t all that good because it had nothing in the way of physical STAB since all water moves were special

then dppt with waterfall and aqua jet and it was such a boon, and people actually started using it for its stupidly powerful water moves and it had ice punch and superpower for coverage and it was pretty good

and then xy, it got the fairy-type, knock off got buffed, and now it’s a huge threat with ridiculously powerful belly drum aqua jets and play roughs and knock offs and it’s immune to dragon and it got into OU. no other pokemon has a success story like azumarill (excluding megas), god damn. i’m so proud of her

i love you azumarill

Outside the relevant video footage there are a few particular photos of the FAHC that the media likes to use whenever they are discussing one of the crew’s attacks on the news; between citizen’s snapshots and professional photojournalists there’s certainly no shortage of available images but a select handful have become somewhat iconic.

There are favourites for each individual, at least of the main public-facing portion of the crew, even ideal shots of near every little combination of members, but it’s the big group photos that really bring in the money. The favoured images are all action shots including all the key members of the crew, rare and hard to capture but spectacular when managed, the candid photos looking more like promo stills for a Hollywood blockbuster than anything based in reality.

Tales of the crew’s latest acts of bloody ruthlessness are often accompanied by a snap taken by a long-focus lens through a chain-link fence of the Fake’s waiting for pickup outside a warehouse. Pattillo’s on the phone, Ramsey has his head in one hand as he gestures towards where Jones is tipping off balance with Dooley in a headlock, who in turn has one hand fisted in the Vagabond’s jacket as Free looks on, apparently cleaning his nails with a knife. The group ranges from a light smattering to utterly drenched but not one has entirely escaped the spray of blood, and every single one of them is laughing.  When instead the topic of discussion is the FAHC’s opulent irreverence the image of choice is one showing the key six in various stages of undress, swimmers and cocktails all around as they lounge about the spa and deck of the mayor’s yacht.

Then there’s the photo that never fails to come up whenever the media is focussing on the FAHC’s ability to do the unbelievable, taken during one of the Fake’s more ludicrous heists. An overbearing titan dwarfs the scene right outside Maze Bank, cartoonishly large magnet swinging heavily below it at the aircraft absconds with an entire safe.  Two figures are standing atop the safe as it is lifted, one in a suit and the other in a skull mask, both clinging to the chain as they lean out to shoot towards those still on the ground. Below a hotly pursued chrome car is fishtailing around the corner even as two bikes are caught mid-flight, launching through the air over a police barricade, the drivers – one decked out in all gold and the other a mess of purple and orange – reaching out to bump gloved fists.

A grainy mobile camera shot that is largely ignored by mainstream media nonetheless makes the rounds on the internet, quickly going viral as people express their fascination with the image of Los Santos’ most infamous villains after a night at the bar. Walking down a quiet street Ramsey and Pattillo are out in front, the boss laughing and gesticulating wildly while the second shoves him away, grin mostly hidden as she looks back at the others following behind. Free’s arm is hooked around Jones’ neck, a careless piggyback that matches the sloppy edge of their grins, his other arm thrust forward like he’s directing a charge despite the way the Vagabond is clearly towing them both with one hand. The other hand is busy keeping Dooley from slumping to the ground, limp body slung over the Vagabonds shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and even masked its clear the mercenary is looking skyward in exasperation. It’s an oddly humanising image, the familiarity of drunken camaraderie regardless of the nature of the people involved, and, feeling safe and brazen behind the anonymity of the internet, the picture is quickly utilised in a dozen different ridiculous memes.

Despite all that, the most commonly used image of the crew by far, and easily the most obnoxiously arrogant of the lot, comes from the memorable day the FAHC decided to make a show of finally wiping out their key rivals, an example to the city and a huge payday all rolled into one extravagant affair. While there are still plenty missing the imagine contains nearly every identifiable member of the FAHC, including a sizable chunk of support, all dressed in matching suits - visibly expensive, personally tailored and entirely unnecessary, each with their own little flairs of green; a tie, a handkerchief, a necklace, a vest. The crew is walking in a V-formation, with Ramsey front and centre and the rest flared back around him, loose limbed and laughing like they’re not all armed to the teeth. Like there isn’t a burnt out plane behind them or a building pouring smoke and flame. Like this photo didn’t catch them moments after securing the most horrifically high body-count the crew has to their name. It’s used because of how many members are visible, because of how clearly it displays the callous cruelty of the crew, the violent destruction at the heart of their existence. The Fake’s just love how insufferably grandiose it is, from the accidental formation of their walk to the silly last second decision to suit up and wreck shop like caricature gangsters, all picked apart and interpreted as intention, calculated self-importance and immaculate organisation.

There is however, a single photo in circulation that the Fake’s draw no pleasure from no matter how many times its shown. It’s the kind of image prime time news always precedes with a warning; disturbing, graphic, might offend some viewers, proceed at your own risk. It was taken by a particularly reckless journalist in the middle of a shootout that stayed in the headlines for weeks, the stormy night that almost spelled the end of the FAHC and cost many officers their lives in the process. The image embodies every inch of that grim reality, almost washed out by the red and blue lights reflecting back off every surface from pale faces to the wet shine of the road, and the whole photo couldn’t have been framed better if it had been staged.

There are lumps scattered across the scene; rubble, cartridges, crashed vehicles and indistinguishable bodies in blue and black Kevlar. In the foreground there is a shock of green hair against the pavement, Dooley’s prone form blocked almost entirely by Ramsey crouching over him, usual jacket abandoned to reveal a tattered shirt, stark and ghostly white against the harsh black metal of the machine gun braced against his shoulder.

Slightly further back, ducked low and braced against a wall Pattillo and the Vagabond press together, bodies inadvertently angled towards the photographer. The Vagabond is caught mid-reload, skull askew as his head twists back to look behind even as Pattillo keeps him pinned, gun slung across her back and her own shirt ripping between her teeth as she ties it around the masked man’s thigh.

Furthest away and almost perfectly centred Jones has his back to the camera, the distinctive snarl of the wolf stamped across his spine just visible as he stands square between his crew and the advancing line of officers, outline lit by the bright flare of his muzzle flash. Nearby a slighter figure echoes his position, taking aim from the hood of an abandoned police car, though one of Free’s arms hangs wet and useless to his side, face turned just far enough to reveal blood streaked skin and bared teeth.

Out of focus but distinct even in the background the LSPD advances, a solid mass interspaced by flashing lights and flaring weapons. The photo even captured a glimpse of the Firebird’s chopper arriving, the deciding factor that finally swung the fight back into the FAHC’s favour, just visible emerging around the hulking silhouette of a building. The photo is, in all objectivity, an artistic masterpiece. The Fake’s hate it.

Any media loop of a job gone bad is a pretty miserable time, and there is certainly enough footage of that night to go around, but something about that image is particularly grating. It’s hardly the worst photo of them out there, isn’t embarrassing or overly revealing, the few visible faces not even reflecting the desperate terror they’d all felt by the end, but it’s still too much. Too painful, too human, far too close, so each and every time it surfaces again it never fails to tip somebody into a bad mood.

The annoyance is aimed at the media really, not the individual who’d snapped the shot; no matter how many claimed the man should have his identity protected for safety the Fake’s simply weren’t interested. Which isn’t to say they didn’t notice when that damned image won a prestigious award, oh no. For all their collective indifference there’s just no way the photographer was ever going to keep that prize long, his apartment broken into within a week without any obvious signs of forced entry, the culprits only identifiable by the message they left behind in their wake, bright green paint splashed across the wall where the shiny new plaque had hung in pride of place; Get our good side next time, xoxo FAHC

the signs as things my friends have said

Aries: “That’s what you get for making out with my dad”

Taurus: “I included that in my diss rap I wrote about her”

Gemini: “First of all I called you an imperialist before I called you a bitch”

Cancer: “I’m just trying to astral project into a bed so I can get some sleep”

Leo: “My pecs need the nipple for definition”

Virgo: “The TV gods told me I needed to consume”

Libra: “Poisoning is feminism”

Scorpio: “I could deal with syphilis if they were hot enough”

Sagittarius: “Your ass may be thicc with two c’s but the Earth is thicc with seven seas”

Capricorn: “Can you tell everyone you know that I’m a good time”

Aquarius: “I came out of the womb yelling ‘Pinot Grigio’”

Pisces: “What is the point? To roast and be roasted until we are nothing but ash?”

Sonic the Hedgehog is basically some sort of freaky cryptid, isn’t he?

No, I don’t mean because he’s an electric blue hedgehog, though there is that.

I mean… like, back in the day when 2D platformers were all the rage, everybody wanted to be the next Mario. There were about a billion different attempts to manufacture a mascot-driven platformer franchise by corporate decree; some flew high and crashed hard (e.g., Earthworm Jim); some were bad jokes right from the get-go (e.g., Bubsy); and some have just bumbled along doing their thing, no gushing headlines but no hysterical laughter (e.g., Rayman) - and then there’s Sonic.

Sonic is the one mascot-by-committee who’s managed to make good. He has a goofy design, a self-consciously “edgy” personality, and basically nothing to distinguish him from any of dozens of failed efforts, yet everybody loves him. And on top of all that:

a. Most of his output has ranged from mediocre to terrible for longer than the bulk of his current fanbase has been alive - there are literally kids who love Sonic in spite of the fact that his last standout game came out before they were born; and

b.  He’s a console mascot for a defunct console.

… and yet he’s coasted on pure name recognition for decades, and is routinely mentioned in the same breath as mascots like, well, Mario.

Like, I’m not saying it was aliens, but…

Inexorable (1)

So I thought, why not combine that shit and make it a mini-series or something? I really hope you two anons enjoy it! No idea how many parts there will be. We shall see. Gif isn’t mine, cred goes to the owners! 1,560 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, a little crack, (Eventual) Smut, Mafia au!

Part 1 | Part 2

Everyone’s heard of blind dates – never of blind marriages, not even in the mafia world. Yet, here you were, walking down the aisle, your hand latched onto your father’s arm, towards a young man you had never seen before. 

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to him, let alone this being the first time you actually got to see his face. There was so much rage bubbling inside you at the moment, but it was all hidden behind a small smile.

Combining two mafia organizations together was a huge deal; something bosses usually agreed on with the exchange of girls, but considering Red Python was one of the most powerful organizations in the country, they wouldn’t want just any girl. They wanted a suitable bride for the heir of said organization.

And your father, being the great, generous man he was, suggested you.

Keep reading

Suga Daddy: Part 11

Suga Daddy: Part 11 (m)

Word count: 8.3k

Genre/Warnings: smut, angst, language, dom!Yoongi, choking and dirty talk

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi comes with you to Jungkook’s graduation.

I think there might be just a few chapters left. 

Parts: {playlist} one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Keep reading

KaciartKaciart
He’s being bullied by some of the kids in the school
Because Noctis snubs everyone but Prompto

DraiadDraiad
they’d get so jealous

KaciartKaciart
So as an act of self preservation he starts trying to not be caught alone with Noctis so much
Always willing to go to Nocts place but less willing to go to the arcade
Of course the bullies are clever enough to never do it around Noctis and his entourage

Keep reading

“Will I be the lead?” || Finn Wolfhard

Request: none

Characters: Finn Wolfhard x reader, Wyatt, Josh, Jake

Tense: 3rd person

Summary: Finn is back home and has some time to spend with his friends. Talking on rooftops, skating on the streets and sleepovers in the gardens.

A/N: In terms of this storyline, Finn and Wyatt have known each other for a while and all characters became a friendship group

Finn was finally back home after filming for over a year; he hadn’t seen his friends in that space of time until now. He got into his house to find Josh sat at the dining table eating leftover pizza from the Wolfhard’s fridge. He turned and smiled, mouth full, and waved as he got up quickly. He engulfed Finn into a hug and as he did, Finn noticed Wyatt sat with Jake. The two came and joined the hug, creating a large group hug. Finn stood looking around slightly.

“(Y/N) will be round later,” Wyatt said. “She has some things to do,” Finn nodded, somewhat embarrassed that Wyatt knew exactly who he was looking for.

The guys all sat around and talked for ages, mostly about nothing in particular, just general nonsense. They were all sat outside in front of Finn’s house on the front porch: Jake and Wyatt sitting in a swing seat, whilst Finn and Josh sat on chairs opposite.

“Yeah, but hypothetically speaking, you can’t just take it out of its shell, like it would kill it,” Wyatt spoke seriously, even though the subject they were discussing was completely random. The others nodded in agreement, humming like the topic was an actual debate of some sort.

Finn stroked his chin. “Yes but if it was then covered in, let’s say, the armour then it would be protected even more and it wouldn’t die, because it would replace the shell,” Josh clicked his fingers and nodded vigorously.

“No the bones of it are attached to it, it would destroy it then bleed to death,” Wyatt elaborated. “Armour would then make it worse and it would already be dead,” he said.

“If it’s attached,” Josh said. “Then why can they retract into their shells?”

“For this particular topic,” Finn said, sounding like he was from a posh and upper class area. “I’m going to say it wouldn’t kill it because this is complete fantasy, not reality,” everyone laughed.

“Fine,” Wyatt rolled his eyes jokingly. “But it’s able to retract because it’s the limbs of it, it has space in its shell to just go into itself.”

They were still sat on the front porch, when they noticed (Y/N) skate over. She stopped, picked up her board and then made her way up to the guys. Finn’s face instantly lit up, the two ran to each other, instantly hugging. The other guys shared glances with one another and then with Finn’s brother who was stood inside the house, but was definitely watching.  

“You got taller,” she laughed as she now had to look up at him slightly. “I’m pissed,” he shrugged, laughing along with her. He couldn’t help but think why she had her beanie covering the entirety of her head, showing no hair apart from one tiny strand which he could’ve sworn was an odd colour.

“I haven’t skated in a while,” he said, referring to her board. “Do you mind if we do?” he asked, everyone else was up for it.

                                                          ***

“Your balance is better than it was,” she laughed. “You’re actually good now,” he looked at her and smiled.

“Learnt from the master,” he pointed in front of him towards Josh. “Which would be him,” She flicked Finn’s forehead and he pretended to be injured.

“Such a baby,” she rolled her eyes and skated away from him, causing him to get back on his board and follow her jokingly. He had one arm out in front and the other on his chest.

“Breaking my heart,” he said which made everyone laugh. They all started to skate towards (Y/N)’s house, which was where Finn’s parents now were.

Finn’s parents were close with (Y/N)’s, which was why Finn and her were as close as they were. They all stumbled into the house, heading straight for her room. Josh threw himself on her bed, Jake following suit, Wyatt took a beanbag chair whilst Finn took her desk chair. She sat on the floor, like she usually would whenever they were altogether as a group.

“The sunset is so nice,” (Y/N) said, looking out at the sky through the window. Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Remember when Wyatt almost fell off the roof?” Jake spoke up, barely able to get his words out through laughter. “Cracked me up so much.”

“Those times we’d sit on the roof and just make fake answers to actual questions,” She said, also barely audible through laughter. “I miss those times.”

“Let’s do it now, then,” Finn suggested, spinning around on the chair. Nobody had taken notice that he’d been doing it as soon as he sat down, more than likely the 10th time he’d spun around. “Why reminisce about doing it when we could just do it now?” He stood up, stumbling slightly with dizziness. He held out his arms and stayed still, “I’m all good.”

She opened the windows and one by one, they all crawled out the window to sit on the roof. All were laughing, talking about anything that came to mind, yet again nonsense. Finn’s eyes kept diverting to her unintentionally, which Josh had picked up on.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “But I know what I know,” she shook her head, stomach aching from laughing.

“Which is nothing?” Josh asked, causing her to reach over Finn and hit his leg. “You kneeded permission to do that,” you looked at him emotionless, whilst Finn sat laughing. Finn was finding anything and everything funny that night on the rooftop.

“I’ve done legitimate research,” Jake said, speaking with a serious tone. “There are a couple of things you don’t understand- also the world is flat,” he interrupted himself with his statement. Josh squealed a trailed ‘what?’ as Finn just stared from Jake to her and then back to Jake.

“And the moon landing was fake,” Wyatt pointed out. She raised her eyebrows in amusement.

Josh piped up, “Dude, I’m just glad that people are, like, being straight up with me for once, because I’ve never heard any of this shit,” everyone laughed.She patted his back in a joking comfort. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink, anyone want anything?” She said, everybody shook their head, carrying on with their discussion, as she climbed back into the house through the window, heading downstairs. She went to the fridge and pulled out a Coke can. She took off her beanie, the hat that had been covering the entirety of her hair, and she placed the hat neatly on the dining table. She made her way back upstairs and as she walked into the room, Josh turned round from the roof. Widened eyes, he turned back round to the others. She climbed through and joined them in the place where she was originally sat.

“Oh, wow, you’re hair, it matches the sky,” Finn smiles, chuckling at his own statement, speaking softly. The sky at that very moment was a pink colour, something that happened at sunset. “I like it, it suits you.” All she could do is smile back, stroking her hair in flattery. Finn then kept making eye contact with each of the other guys, almost questioning if they knew she’d dyed her hair whilst he was away. It wasn’t a big deal to him but it had surprised him.

The group had eventually come down from the roof and were now in her back garden, putting up a tent. Finn and (Y/N) were planning to camp out in her garden for the night, after much begging to their parents. The guys had offered to help, knowing full well that the two of them putting it up together would take them until morning.

“No you need to give me that pole,” Wyatt shouted over to Josh who was stood opposite. “No, the other one,” Josh kept purposely picking up the wrong one, just to frustrate him. “Yes, thank you,” he caught the pole and attached it.

“It’s feeding time,” Jake said eagerly, referring to the part of pushing the poles through the material, which would keep the tent up and in place.

“I’ve already eaten,” Josh said seriously, everyone stopping and turning to him, hoping to see some evident look on his face that he was joking. They all found nothing. “I’m joking,” he reassured everyone.

Soon enough, the tent was up and secure. They’d all helped with sorting out the inside as well. The other guys had left after giving their goodbyes to the two friends and their families, who were sat inside. Finn and (Y/N) went inside to grab food, and then came back out to go into the tent.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, breaking the silence. “About a year, you look good, though.”

“So do you,” the two laughed at their conversation. “We sound like 35 year olds,” she nodded as she laughed.

“Yeah who lost touch after a break up and just reunited.”

“Oddly specific, but pretty movie-like,” Finn took a bite out of the chocolate bar in his hand.

“I love movies,” she said. “I wanna make some one day.”

“Will I be the lead?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Obviously, no one else would even need to audition, it’d be yours automatically,” she furrowed her eyebrows in a pretend ‘duh’ tone.

“What kind of film would it be?” He loved hearing her ideas for films or shows, he always admired her creativity which is why he was so interested in watching other directors do their jobs. It wasn’t always for his benefit, but for hers.

“I’m thinking an indie road trip,” She said, putting her arms out in front of her, acting as if there were a screen there as she paced out the words. “Pastel colouring, emotive music-“ She listed, tapping her fingers as she counted.

“Maybe some love?” he wiggled his eyebrows causing her to laugh.

She shook her head. “All platonic.”

“I love you,” Finn laughed. She smiled. “Always have this thing about you, you have such a creative mind, and I love it. This is why we’re friends,” He kept a constant eye contact, almost wanting her to believe he was telling the truth. “Talking about creativity, why’d you dye your hair?”

“I’ve always wanted to,” she explained, becoming self-aware. “I don’t really know, rebellious, I guess,” she shrugged. “I missed you,” she changed the subject.

“I missed you too,” his smile faded to him biting the inside of his lip. “But all you have to do is watch me in shit and you’ll be okay,” he tried making her feel better.

“I literally cried at stranger things two, dude,” she laughed, almost immediately regretting saying it, but her mouth was speaking before her mind could process the words needed. “It just reminded me of you coming back, you know? Emphasises how much you miss someone. This place isn’t the same without you.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised. He had thought that she would’ve been off doing things with new people or having more fun lately. “How so?” He was intrigued.

“People are so boring, they never want to do things like what we do. They don’t get me the way that you do, nobody has ever gotten me like you do.” Finn smiled.

“You’re a pretty hard person to understand,” he joked. “That’s why we get along so well.”

“How long are you here for?” she asked, lying on top of her sleeping bag. Finn copied, lying on his in the opposite direction. The two were top and tailing, Finn occasionally putting his foot on her face which caused her to tickle the underneath to get him to move it.

“I’ve got some interviews,” he explained, staring at the top of the tent. “So maybe two days?” he could hear her sigh. He instantly changed the subject as he noticed the raindrops on the tent material. “I remember you tried to convince everyone in our class that raindrops were God’s tears,” They both laughed. He sat up, eyes fixated on the droplet, and flicked the tent which caused the raindrop to fall.

“You’re so interested in the strangest of things,” she said before she was quickly eager to flick an oddly shaped droplet. The two spent the next few minutes focused on the raindrops, neither speaking but only giggling at their actions.

They both then sat back down, facing each other. “We’re such kids,” she shook her head, laughing to herself.

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” Finn questioned rhetorically. “I mean, it’s not like we’re 20 year olds, we’re kids. Can’t grow up too fast,” she was in awe of his mind-set. A part of her couldn’t wait to grow up and be independent, but being around Finn always influenced her to stay grounded. “So have you met anyone?” he jokingly asked, but was also somewhat serious.

“You know me, Finn,” she shrugged, speaking with a posh accent, “I don’t meet people. What about you?”

“Oh no no,” he copied her with the posh accent, “I try to stay focused on my career and my school career,” he chuckled, an arrogant and posh tone. “I don’t see the point because I have my time to find someone, I am just a kid so,” she tried not to laugh.

“Why, that’s because you feel whole, Sir,” she said, again a seriousness hidden within the words.

“I feel whole?” he asked, still keeping the joke going. She nodded.

“Yes, like you have something to fill up the gaping hole of emptiness,” Both stopped laughing and Finn had now caught on that she was being serious.

“And you have this gaping hole?” He asked her, concern evident in his voice and no accent this time, feeling slightly sad that his friend was feeling this way.

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, her mind functioning to find the right thing to say. “Sometimes,” she shrugged. “I mean, I have my insecurities and times where I feel like I need someone to make me feel real, which is crazy because I’m not even that old,” she laughed slightly, humourless but filled with embarrassment. Hearing herself say it she thought it sounded stupid.

“Well, you’re amazing and you don’t need anyone for you to know that,” he smiled, attempting to give comfort and reassurance. “Apart from me of course,” she smiled back this time. “And if you’re gonna be with anyone it’s obviously going to be with me,” he said, not really thinking.

“Finn don’t,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked, worried.

“Just,” she sighed, “Don’t.”

“Did I say something wrong?” she shook her head. “I did, didn’t I?” She shook her head again. “You’ve gone all quiet, I obviously have,” he became frustrated both at her lack of talking and at himself for not knowing what he’d done.

“Now we really do sound like 35 year old exes,” she muttered, causing Finn to laugh. “I’m sorry, I just had a bit of a moment,” she shook herself and Finn copied, almost mimicking her in a comforting way.

“It’s okay,” he said, giving a slight side smile. “I understand.”

Finn and (Y/N)’s mums had come out to check on the two when they overheard parts of their conversations, they decided to walk back in, sharing a hand to the chest and mouthing the word ‘aww’. They were in the kitchen, (Y/N)’s mum making some tea whilst Finn’s sat at the kitchen counter.

“It’s nice to see them together again,” Finn’s mum spoke up. “He was talking non-stop about her and how he wanted time with everyone,” (Y/N)’s mum rested against the counter by the kettle opposite.

“I couldn’t agree more,” she smiled. “She’s been down lately,” she explained, sighing slightly. “School is becoming some sort of chore, she’s really not enjoying herself here at all. I don’t know how to help, it’s really difficult.”

Finn’s mum was always close to (Y/N)’s and with any situation, she was eager to help out. She was always there for advice and to take over if it ever got too much. She walked round and hugged her. “You know you can always talk to me.”

                                                         ***

“Yeah but if the chicken was to run away, then what would you do?” She asked Finn, raising her eyebrows as she threw the small bouncy ball towards him. He caught it, threw it between his hands a couple of times as he thought. He looked upwards, something he did when he was concentrating and was deep in thought. He stopped, looked to her and pointed with the ball still in hand.

“Um, I,” He stopped, shaking his head and retreating from what he was about to say. He copied his actions as before: looking up and throwing the ball between his hands. He sighed. “You make this too difficult, (Y/N).” they both laughed. Finn threw the ball back to her, she caught it after 4 tries of catching as she unintentionally bounced it to try and keep it in her hand. Finn began to laugh hysterically, falling on his back and clapping. She threw the ball at him.

“Shut up,” she whined. “Stop laughing at me,” he started to roll around, still laughing and unable to stop. He then sat up, holding his stomach and gradually stopping from laughing.

“You make me laugh so much,” he said, smiling and holding the ball.

“What by me embarrassing myself?” She pretended to be offended. “That’s just hurtful.”

“No,” he said plainly. He was running over the right words in his head. “Just- Just you being you,” he put the ball down. She picked up a packet of twizzlers, pulled one out and began to eat it. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met and will ever meet, no doubt about it. I talk about you all the time, man,” She choked on the sweet, coughing then swallowing it again.

“Oh Jesus,” she said, hand on chest. “Sorry,” he waved her off then started to pat her back to make sure she was okay. “I just thought that you kinda forgot about me- well not forgot but like just didn’t really think about me.”

He widened his eyes and shook his head vigorously. He moved back to where he was sat, opposite you. He had his legs up, his hands intertwined with each other and rested them around his knees. “You’re always on my mind,” he laughed. “So much it’s come naturally to just think about you and for everyone on sets to groan if I even start to say your name,” She smiled, biting the inside of her mouth.

“That means a lot,” she said. “I think about you too.”

“Good otherwise this would be awkward,” he laughed, the two hugged. It was a much more sentimental hug, the type where you knew that you wouldn’t see someone for a while so you wanted to get the most feeling from it. It was quite a long hug, almost as if the two hadn’t realised they were still hugging and as if time itself was going slowly.

Tagged for imagines:

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

2

WOW this came out dark

So like… as soon as I watched this fucking episode I knew I was going to be painting it. That fucking lil smile he does.

Feels good to paint stranger things. I have thought of/talked of/watched nothing else since it came out :)

The Dozens of Times Eddie Kapbrak Came Home, and the One Time He Didn’t

(A Story in Sonia’s POV)


–There was the one time Eddie came home angry. Slamming doors, cursing under his breath. I was upset at the language, but more worried he’d catch a little finger, or a toe in the cabinets or doors. I asked why and he pushed me away. He had always been doing that lately. Am I being too much of a worrier? Maybe I am. He’s older now, and doesn’t need me as much. As much as that hurts to admit, seventeen is old enough to be independent. 


–He came home crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that, too. Something was different. He came to me for once. I was selfishly happy, but that left me when I saw him. He had a bruise under his left eye. His lip was cut, and his hands were shaking and red, a sign that he’d had a panic attack again. Those signs used to be foreign to me until he told me those weren’t asthma like I had thought for years. I’d like to think of myself as an almost expert on them now. The only thing hard for me to tell anymore is what might cause them. He has them so often. Eddie comes to me, and sits down, panting. He looks worn down and sad and resigned, as if he’s accepted a heavy fate, or like he was waiting for a piano to fall on him. 

This time when I ask him what’s wrong, he crumbles and starts to cry again. He tells me Henry and his psychopath friends cornered him in the locker room, and roughed him up. He shows me his ribs, and I see red. Partly the dried blood, partly rage. That little freak carved the word “Fag” into Eddie’s little side. It takes everything in me not to take him to the hospital, but Eddie insists he cleaned and dressed it as much as it needed, and it wasn’t deep, no stitches needed. I prayed with everything in me that it wouldn’t scar. When I asked him why they would choose that word, he becomes silent again. He seems to be trying to find the right words to say, and eventually he does. He tells me, stuttering more than the elder Denbrough boy, that it’s because they saw him kissing Richard Tozier. I had nothing to say, and he goes to his room before I could find the right words. I did eventually, over dinner. I tried to make a lighthearted joke, and said he could do better than little Richie Tozier, and that I loved him. He did laugh, but he also cried. This time it was the good way. 


–One time he came home excited, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran upstairs. I called out to him to get the door, but he was down just as fast heading out again. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and I can’t help but to think that just a few months ago this same boy was crying in shame over what had happened. He was a lot happier in general, due in part I suppose to coming out, but mostly Richard. Richie, Richie this, and Richie that. I almost wanted to tell him I was tired of hearing it, but his happiness wasn’t something I could get tired of. Despite being a trouble maker and a bad mouth, he did take care of Eddie. I did tell him to stop coming home with love marks- unsanitary and shameless little things. I tried not to think about the fact that he still probably got them where I couldn’t see them. He may be an adult next month but he’s still my little angel.

He tells me he’s finally going out on a real date, just the two of them. That they’re going to see a movie, and he tells me not to wait up. I know I’ll try to, but he always manages to come home after I fall asleep. Sneaky little boy. He tells me he’s already left the name, address, and number of the movie theatre on the counter, and that he’ll be with Richie who can be reached as well. I have his number in my Rolodex, as I do his parents, and the rest of his friends- you never know when you might need them. He kisses my cheek and practically skips out to the beat up truck Richard drives. It has a bench seat and the driver seatbelt doesn’t work most of the time, and I cringe thinking about Richie just sitting on it so he doesn’t get a ticket for not actually wearing it. Eddie promised me he’d never drive it, so at least there’s that. 


–He came home today, silent. It’s almost worse when he does that instead of crying. Eddie was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I asked if he was okay, and he just stares at me. It feels like an eternity when he opens and says “The school won’t let Richie and I go to prom together… They said if we showed up they’d kick us out.” His voice sounds so fragile and small, like he doesn’t feel like a real person. I’m furious. I tell him I’ll call the school, but he begs me not to. He says it’s okay, he knew it would happen, that this is just the way things are. I, however, will not stand this. As soon as he goes to his room, I call his principle. I can’t remember exactly what I said, though I am equal parts embarrassed and proud to have used foul language in place of his name. “Mr. Shitstain” and I came to an agreement that they may attend as long as they are within a larger group. He will not allow them to have couple’s pictures, but he did reluctantly allow that they dance together. I tell Eddie in the morning and he cries and hugs me. He goes to Richie to give him good news. 


–He comes home after prom with a photo- the whole group is in it, all holding a sign that says “Loser’s Club”. I cringed at the name, but they chose it for themselves years ago. Eddie and Richie are next to each other, and I suppress an eye roll that Richard had ripped open his shirt to reveal an exclamation point painted on his pale abdomen at the last moment. The picture is slightly blurred, and Eddie confirms my theory when he laughs and says the camera guy was startled and tried to lunge at Richard to put all of his clothes back on. Despite this, I see the stars in his eyes. He is happy, so I am happy. 


–Lately he’s been coming home with heaps of papers, college letters, essays, SATs, tests. I try not to think about him leaving. I turn up the volume on the TV or the radio when he uses the phone to talk to his friends about it. It hurts and he knows it hurts. I’ve never been good at not worrying. This goes on for weeks. I fail to keep my tears in when he’s at school or out with friends, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud. He’s such a good boy. 


–This time he comes home, and he doesn’t say a word, and I can’t see him from the kitchen but I know something is wrong. His feet are dragging and his breathing sounds funny. I drop the spoon into the soup when I hear a crash. He’s laying on the floor and crying. Despite him being curled up in a ball I can see he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and bleeding badly. I try not to scream but when I rush to him I can’t hold it, he’s been cut up badly again, more words carved into his soft belly and his thighs. I can see the word “Queer” seeping through his khaki pantleg as he sobs. This time, he does need stitches. In many places. The only thing he says to me from the hospital bed is that he is oh so tired of this town. Richard never leaves his side, growling at anyone who causes him pain or wakes him up, like a wild animal. I’ve decided that I am incredibly grateful that he is who he is. 

He’s in the hospital for three days. Night one was cleaning and stitching and recounting what happened. The police had been called to file a report. He hesitantly confesses that Henry, Patrick, and the other cretins did this to him. Chief Bowers is red with rage. I hear him in the hallway calling my son a “flamer” but that his boy was “going to get it”. This is the first and only time I’ve yelled at a cop. Richie laughs and holds up his hand for a high five, something I wouldn’t usually reciprocate, but tonight is a night of firsts. Night two was observation and tests to see how bad the internal injuries might be. He has a concussion, but they found no internal damage aside from bruises and a cracked rib. They send him home wrapped in Ace bandages and taped up like Richard’s glasses. That night he tells me he needs to leave, that he can’t take this anymore. I’m angry, and admittedly irrational. We do not speak to each other for a week. 


–When we speak again, he walks in the door with Richie, William, and Michael. Out of his friends, Michael is my favorite despite where he lives being so messy. He brings me flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables. He washes them himself, but only once he gets here so I can see it. He’s a very well mannered and intelligent man. William is wonderful too, but I feel guilt in having trouble understanding him, and he has a habit of talking with his mouth full. He’s not as messy as Richard, so at least there is that. Eddie has healed nicely so far, most of the stitches are out already, and the scars he has, though sadly legible, are hidden under clothes. His lip and eyebrow have small scars, but they are hard to notice. The boys have folded boxes in their hands. I knew this was coming, but I still couldn’t bear it. I stubbornly told him I wouldn’t help him, and that I wouldn’t watch him either. He only nods his head, looking down. 

They pack up his belongings, and I step out into the yard, smoking my first cigarette in years. I swiped one from the Marsh girl months ago, when Eddie was starting to talk about college. I thought that was the worst, but this hurts more. He’s leaving too soon, and I can’t stop him. He promised me he’d finish high school, and go to college, but that he would not live here, in Derry. Because we weren’t completely speaking, I have no idea where he’s moving, and now I’m too embarrassed to ask. When I go back inside, William hands me a piece of paper, his handwriting surprisingly neat, with Eddie’s address, and number. He was moving just outside of the city, into the matchbox apartments. With Richard. I can’t help it. When he walks out of the front door with his things, he kisses my cheek. I can’t help it. When the car drives away, their silhouettes in the windshield. I can’t help it. I sit down on the porch, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. 


–He doesn’t come in the door anymore. Not the way he used to. No angry slams, no excited pops as the door hits the wall. No silent entries when he’s tired. No little footsteps. He doesn’t come home. He visits, sometimes with Richard, and with his friends. He calls frequently, too. He’s a good boy. Time passes, and he came to visit after graduation. He got accepted to a college in Maine. I try to hide how happy that makes me. I promise I won’t go to the dorms too much. He and Richie talk about their lease ending and moving on campus. His little group of friends are trying their best to stick together. They all got accepted to the same school, and will try to attend until their majors take them elsewhere. It’s nice knowing that he’ll have so many friends. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits. Holidays he even stays in his old room. Sometimes. Other times he stays with William in his new house, just down the street from mine. Sometimes they visit Richie’s parents, or Michael’s farm. It’s a lot like it used to be, but it isn’t the same. I know it never will be, and while I’m sad, I’m happy too. He doesn’t come home, but he gets married in the same church I was married in. They make the paper as the first same sex couple to get married in Derry. Someone booed them as they walked to their car, but before anyone said anything, Richard flipped them off. I don’t tell Eddie, but I caught it on camera. It’s framed in my room, shameful but endearing. He doesn’t come home, but he visits often, asking for advice. We’ll have lunch together and talk about stain removal, and he’s picked up cross stitching for Richard’s anniversary gift. He’s going to make a sign that says “Tozier-Kaspbrak” for their sitting room. 


He doesn’t come home, but he visits often. Many times with Richard, and even more happily with their new daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter, so I spoil her rotten. I try not to be so overbearing as I was with Eddie. I know it had the wrong impression on him, and I don’t want her to feel the same. I give her sweets when they aren’t looking, and I teach her all about keeping a good home, and let her watch football with me when they need a babysitter. Eddie doesn’t know, but sports are a guilty pleasure of mine. I want her well rounded, too- to know that girls can like whatever they please. Her name is Amelia Isabelle, and she grows so fast. He doesn’t come home anymore, not like he used to. And I’m so, so grateful. He’s leading a good and proud life, and I’ve never been more proud to be the mother of Edward Tozier-Kaspbrak. He doesn’t come anymore, but when he visits, it’s like he never left at all. I’ve lived a good little life, I feel.



“Sonia Kaspbrak, 65, passed in her sleep in her home of Derry, Maine. Natural causes. She leaves her son, son-in-law, and granddaughter. Funeral to be held this Saturday, July 17th at the First Church of Derry. She will be fondly remembered by all who knew her. Everyone is welcome to attend the open service ceremony being held to celebrate her life. 
Thank you, 
Richard Tozier-Kaspbrak”

choices stories explained badly

the freshman: become a grumpy old dude’s entertainment slave to get money for school where you’ll up liking it, then learn that anything that seems too good to be true (i.e. three people lowkey being in love with you at once) probably is and will evidently fall apart. oh and for some reason it’ll be your fault. it isn’t, everyone’s gonna blame you tho. but it’s cool, friendship prevails or whatever and everyone’s gay.

the sophomore: it’s the freshman except everyone looks like suburban middle-class parents now.

the rules of engagement: don’t marry cheating, lying scum bags who are predestined to be named something fratboy-esque like trent. marry hot men you meet on a cruise after three months of knowing them for money instead.

the crown and the flame: uniting divided kingdoms takes a lot of death and money, also you may or may not have some sexy times with the enemy’s son. the fire nation is the last surviving type of bender and bradley james turns into a dragon. avan jogia is hot and mysterious.

lovehacks: date men for work they said. it’ll be fun they said.

the royal romance: who needs a comfy life in new york maxwell i love you when you can have adventures maxwell why won’t you love me back in a far off country with a handsome maxwell prince? leave your life behind. leave your friends. it’s all good.

most wanted: murder, scandal, and revenge. you’re gonna ship massey and dave and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. and not to be that guy but where is book two. not to be shady but we’re moving on to the freshman: senior home and most wanted hasn’t even—

endless summer: you just came out here to have a good time and you’re literally being attacked right now. your entire life has been a lie and your gbf was stolen by sentient plants. you’ve sold your morals so that your fave would like you. why is tony stark so sketchy.

haunting of braidwood manor: you go on a haunted slumber party with a family of ghosts because you wanna help your ghost brother and oh hey, ghost girl is pretty cute. actually she’s really cute. the power of the lesbians has made ghost girl a normal girl again. this is my not-ghost girlfriend and we’re in love, thanks for your support best-male-bro-pal-who-i’m-not-interested-in-because-i’m-gay.

hero: everyone bullies you because you’re broke and don’t have the diamonds for this and that’s all we know so far

You’ll Float Too [Bill Skarsgård/Pennywise x Fem!Reader]

A/n: Well guys, I’ve finally made the foray into the fold. Done are the days I simply reblog for this fandom– look out for some more Bill or Penny x readers coming. It’s the first day of Halloween today, so be prepared, I’m spoopily inspired :) 

Warnings: Hint of dub-con. Brief smut. Sexy clowns.


“Bill?”

Your feet barely make a sound against the floorboards as you carefully trek out of the bedroom. Your husband, Bill Skarsgård, had told you he would just be a moment– that the noise was probably just the broken furnace in the old house you two had just bought. This was, of course, after you had so abruptly been interrupted.

“Fuck, baby,” you had whispered, grinding against him and dipping down to slip your tongue back into his mouth.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” he had growled, fingers curling up inside of you mercilessly as his thumb rubbed your clit. You bounce on his fingers, one leg on either side of his own long ones.

“Bill, I-” you gasp, squealing as he readjusted his hand, shoving his fingers even deeper.

“Love feeling that pussy squeeze around me…” he tugged you down, licking his fingers off with a pop. “Love feeling it around my dick.”

“I’ve got something else in mind,” you grinned, moving the covers down to brush your lips against his clothed, hardened cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed in turn, breath hitching as you give a lick through his pyjama pants. That was when the noise had sounded.

Your head had popped up. “What was-”

“That?” he echoed at the same time.

“It’s probably the rain,” you murmur, “The thunderstorm is loud.”

“Sure… but rain or no rain, if that fucking piece of shit of a furnace is broken again, I’m gonna-” You envelop his lips again, but he groans, softly pushing you off. “Here, I’ve gotta fix the thing, I don’t wanna freeze all night. I’ll be back in a second, babe,” he had promised, kissing your forehead. You had smiled, and tugged at his loose pyjama pants from the bed.

“You’d better be. I want these off.”

A smirk your way, and he had dashed off downstairs.

Now, it had been a long while, and you hadn’t heard him answer any of your calls for him.

Coming to the door of the basement, you open it cautiously.

“Bill, where are you?” You tug his oversized “cast” T-shirt he had kept from Allegiant further down over your panties. It was cold down here, and– you gasp. The basement was flooded. Was the thunderstorm really that bad?

“Bill,” you hiss, “I hate it down here… did you fix the furnace?!”

You hear a ripple in the water, and swallow, taking another step down. “Hey… can you hear me? It’s still freezing, it must not be wor-” You stop, and gaze around. There’s no sign of your husband. You turn, and bite your lip. Maybe he’s upstairs in the kitchen, and he faked the furnace just to get a midnight snack…

No, but you were about to go down on him. The day Bill evaded a blow job for the last slice of carrot cake in your fridge was the day hell froze over.

Speaking of freezing over… You shiver again, and begin to take two stairs at a time up– until you hear another ripple, and a small splash.

“Bill?” you repeat for the billionth time, sighing as you turn back. “What are you– oh!” You find Bill standing by the far wall, up to his knees in water.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, clutching your heart at the startle. He just stares at you. “What the fuck are you looking at?” you ask playfully, and smack your ass with a small smile. “Come up and get it.” You bite your lip and turn toward the door, but Bill doesn’t follow. You huff. “I’m getting a towel for you. No way I’m letting you in the bed with soaking legs.” He still makes no move. “Bill!! Come on!”

This time, he smiles.

“But (y/n),” he says quietly, “If you come with me… you’ll float too.”

“What?” you mutter, and then you roll your eyes so far back you’re sure they’ve hit the front of your brain. “Oh Christ. Your movie line? Really? My husband played a killer clown, I’m not scared of anything.” You let out a laugh that seems out of place in the eerie, dripping basement. “Stop being a dork and come with me, will you?” You hold out a hand, making a grabby motion.

He takes a step forward. “You’ll float too.”

“Only if you provide the finest duck floaties,” you tease, grinning, “AND poolside cocktails.”

“You’ll float too.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s nice, let’s g-”

“You’ll float too,” he begins to laugh, and you frown.

“Bill, st-”

“You’ll float too!” his voice takes on a giggly pitch, then his face changes. “You’ll float too, you’ll float too, you’ll float too-”

You back away, and your eyes widen as Bill’s face slowly begins to peel off, revealing flesh and teeth and bone. “You’ll float too! You’ll float too!” His voice is now low, demonic, and his eyes are clouding over as blood runs from them.

“Baby,” you breathe, a tear running down your cheek. He was decomposing right before your eyes, and you could do nothing about it– it was the most horrible thing you’d ever seen.

“You’ll float TOO! YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!” he begins to shout, eyes blazing as his mouth falls open.

“Stoppit!” you scream, and hide your eyes, clutching the railing. You suddenly hear silence, so you look up. There, in place of Bill, is Pennywise the fucking dancing clown, grinning over at you.

What the fuck?

“You smell lovely,” he titters, biting his lip with those sharp teeth you saw Bill take in and out during shooting. You could tell from the reflection of the water he was drooling, too. “So, so lovely, little girl.”

“Bill?” you ask softly, because really, it’s all you’ve remembered by way of words.

Bill? Bill?” Pennywise mocks, shaking himself violently, “Where are you?! It’s cold, and I’m such a slut that I can’t wait five minutes for you to fuck me!” He arches his back, mimicking your moans from upstairs, and you gasp.

“That’s right,” he giggles gleefully, “You don’t think I can smell i-t?” He takes a deep breath. “Mmmmm, I smelled it on him before I snapped his spine!”

“No,” you sob, and the clown glares.

“Yes! You smell good. Special. Like nothing I’ve ever taste-d… I want to taste you.”

You clench your jaw. Your legs are shaking, but… those eyes, boring down on you… they couldn’t… be doing things to you, could they? Suddenly, you’re disgusted with yourself.

“Are you scared?” he laughs, half to himself. “I do hope so. That will make it taste so much better.”

“Why?” you breathe shakily, “Why are you here?”

“Because,” Pennywise growled, “Just like your precious Bill said, before he died in agony…” The clown’s eyes lit up, glowing. “YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!” It came out as an otherworldly scream, and suddenly, Pennywise was lurching at you, slamming you onto the staircase and tossing open your legs–

“AH!” you shriek, and open your eyes. The room is dark, and the covers over you are strewn around. Bill turns over beside you, brow crinkling as he blinks open his own eyes.

“Hey… what’s going on?” He yawns. “You okay?”

“I,” you murmur, then start crying. He wakes himself fully up now, leaning over and cradling your head.

“Hey… hey, hey, you’re okay,” he’s frowning, concerned, as he pulls you into his arms, “You’re okay… whatever it was, it was just a dream, (y/n).”

“You were… but you were–” you try to articulate, sobbing uncontrollably. Bill, with all his facial features still perfectly intact, stares down at you earnestly.

“Hey. Just a dream. Okay? I’ve got you. I’m okay. See? I’m here.” His soft voice lulls you back into a calm state, and you clutch his arms and bury your face in his chest. Maybe his movie had gotten to you more than you thought… and the secret you had kept from him that you actually found him attractive in his costume.

He lays you back down, and strokes your hair back, whispering how much he loves you in your ear. You never want to let go… sleep begins to take you again.

Bill looks down at your sleeping form, and adjusts his head on the pillow, turning over. You make no move to wake up. He closes his eyes, then they open again slowly to reveal yellow orbs. As you fall asleep, you think you hear a gentle giggle, but it was just a dream… just a dream…

just a bet part iii

hey!!

hi thank you for so much support on this story it means a lot

if y’all wanna make playlists or moodboards based on this??? PLEASE DO?? i will love you forever

part one, part two, part four, part five

summary: beverly bets richie he can’t get with the new kid, eddie, in under three months. richie disagrees

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 2,097


2 months and 19 days remaining

For the past week, Eddie had been uncharacteristically giddy about going to school every day. There were days he even debating on saying he was sick to get out of going, but recently, something changed. He didn’t want to think Richie was the cause even if in the back of his mind he knew it was. Eddie swung his backpack over one of his shoulders, stopping in the hallway to check his hair in the mirror. He had even started to care about what he looked like. Eddie tried to wear cooler clothes, style his hair in the way he knew Richie liked (he told Eddie about ten times when he first saw it) and even wore cologne.

Keep reading

Costar || C.S.

Originally posted by immortalle

Word Count: 1936

Pairing: Cole Sprouse x reader

Summary: You have real feelings for your costar, but you’re afraid that people might call you unprofessional. You decide to ask Cole himself what he thinks about the situation, and his answer is not what you were expecting.

Warnings: smut, not hardcore but still smut, a little cussing, cute Cole, being in love with Cole

Requested by anon:

“I know you already had a request for Cole smut but I’m so thirsty for it, help your girl out??”

“lordchild I know I know Cole is “bad” but THAT SCENE was so god damn hot, I know you’re writing Ross smut next but you’re so good at smut, please write Cole/jughead smut? Please boo?”

Part 1 (Ross Butler) // Part 2 (Kj Apa)

Masterlist


His smile is what drove you to do what you do every day. His soft laugh would fill up a room with so much joy, you couldn’t stop from smiling yourself. His eyes would twinkle in the light when he would think of a terrible joke that would be so bad that everyone couldn’t help but laugh.

But nevertheless, he could never truly be yours. He was your costar, Cole Sprouse. It would be incredibly unprofessional to admit to anyone your feelings. Even if you did, they would say it wasn’t real that it was just your mind’s habit.

You and Cole work together in very intimate ways this season on Riverdale. The previous season’s ship, Bughead, had sunk due to several reasons and your character and Jughead had begun to have a very casual relationship.

It was hard for you going from kissing him to pretending you were just friends. But, maybe they were right. Maybe, it was just your mind connecting kissing to real feelings. Or they could be completely wrong, this wasn’t your first rodeo after all and you never felt this way with any of the other actors you had to be in an on-screen relationship with.

You never had butterflies in your stomach when they looked you directly in the eyes, or when they pulled you close while taking pictures at a convention. They never made fireworks explode under your skin when they dragged their fingers along your arm. You couldn’t hold in your feelings for much longer. You were itching to tell someone, and who better to tell than the person who makes you feel this way.

Sitting in your trailer, you decided it was time to ask him yourself and get his opinion on the matter. You grabbed your jacket and walked across the lot to find his trailer, texting him to tell him you were on your way over. Lili was the only other cast member on set today and she was filming currently, so there wouldn’t be any distractions.

As you opened the trailer door, you took a deep breath and steadied your racing heartbeat. Cole was sitting on the small couch in the corner of the room, scrolling through his phone. He looked up with a large smile that reached his eyes, and it just solidified your feelings.

You took a seat beside him and started to make small talk, you weren’t just going to jump into this. You had to build up to it to make sure not to make it awkward.

“Cole, you know my friend, Blair, right?” You fidgeted around nervously, wanting this to go over smoothly.

“The one with brown hair, right?” He questioned with his eyebrows scrunching up.

You nodded in response before continuing, “She came to me last night in distress. She’s currently working on the second season of her show,” you paused to look over at him. He had a focused look on his face like he usually did when you told a story. “Well, like I said she came over to my house last night so confused. She rambled on forever before she finally told me what was bothering her.”

You were about to continue before Cole interrupted, “With Blair? I’ve met her like twice, but from those encounters, I could probably guess it was about one of her shoes braking.” He chuckled and you joined him because it sounded just like her.

“Close guess,” You laughed and he smiled back, “But not quite. It was actually some boy trouble. Yeah, she has completely fallen in love, or so she thinks, with her costar.”

Cole nodded in response, “Well, has she told him about said feelings?”

“No, she is afraid that he won’t take her seriously since they have an on-screen relationship.” You paused to get his input.

“Why would she think this? How does she think he will handle the situation?” Cole leaned back against the couch.

“Well, since they have romance on-screen, she is afraid that he will say that it’s just her mind trying to comprehend kissing someone that she didn’t have feelings before they started to do intimate things.”

“Well, if I remember correctly, this isn’t her first on-screen romance, is it?” Cole questioned while holding eye contact.

“No, you’re right. I brought up the same point to her, but she insists that this time is different, that the way he makes her feel is really real.” You turned completely around and leaned your back against the side of the small couch.

“Really? What did she say about him?” He inquired.

“She said that the way he makes her feel when he places his hands on her body is like nothing she had ever felt before. That even when he says her name, that sparks fly in a way no one has ever been able to make her feel before.” You confessed. You felt as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Telling Cole how you really feel about him, even if you’re using Blair as a coverup, makes you feel like you can finally move on.

“I think that she should tell him, just confess it all. Put herself out there. So what if people might think it’s unprofessional? Being in a real relationship with your coworker is frowned upon by the majority of people, but fuck them. Look at Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth or Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher, no one is saying shit now that they are happily married and in love.”

That was not the answer you were looking for. You were hoping that he would say that it was just mind games, that she should wait it out. You were second guessing everything you thought you wanted to do. Should you listen to his advice for Blair? After all, that might not be what he wants for himself, what if it’s just what he would want to see. Your thoughts were interrupted when Cole started to talk again.

“And when did you say she came over?” He had a mischievous look in his eyes, but you wrote it off as him enjoying the drama.

“Last night, after I left set, she came over almost immediately. I was so drained from a long day at set that I couldn’t give her a proper answer, so that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Really? Because last night Lili said you spent the night at her house because you were too tired to drive?” Cole looked like he was enjoying this, but you were sure that you had a look of horror on your face.

“Did I say last night?” You chuckled, “I meant sometime last week.” You tried to play it cool but Cole wasn’t buying it at all.

Cole scooted closer to you and brought his hand to your cheek and you leaned into it without thinking about it, “C’mon, admit it. Admit that I give you that rush.”

You were still unsure on how you wanted to handle the situation, so you denied it, “I just got the time mixed up.”

“Then tell me to stop,” Cole said as he leaned slowly into you, “If you weren’t using Blair as a cover up and you feel nothing right now, tell me to stop and I will.”

You were completely frozen, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Coming to set today, you were expecting the opposite of this. You didn’t know what you should do, but you knew you did not want to move from this spot.

Cole’s lips connected to yours and it was more than you could ever dream of. His lips felt soft against yours, and the kiss was tender and kind. Cole pulled away after a minute, but you left your eyes closed.

“Please, Cole,” You mumbled, not really knowing what you were saying.

Cole placed his lips back on yours, answering your plea. This kiss was different than the first, it had more urgency behind it, but it was just as sweet.

Cole placed his hand in the crook of your neck and pulled you close to him. You placed your legs on either side of his waist without breaking your lips from his. You wrapped your fingers in his dyed hair and tugged slightly.

As things started to heat up, you pulled his shirt over his head. You peppered kisses down his neck and on his chest. He leaned his head back against the couch and let out a sigh, trying to catch his breath.

You started to tug on his belt, but Cole placed his hands on top of yours and looked into your eyes, “Are you sure you want to? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You felt so giddy, looking into his eyes, that question just confirmed your feelings for him. “Yes. Take me, I’m yours.”

Cole smiled back at you while taking your top off. He pulled you down so he could kiss your neck while one hand massaged your boob through your bra, making you moan his name.

You brought your lips back to his while you unbuckled his belt and tugged on his pants. He lifted his lower half to pull his pants down to his ankles and he took his boxers with it.

“You’re wearing too much clothing for my liking.” Cole joked which made you chuckle as you stood up to take your shorts off.

“You’re beautiful, Princess, come here.” He said in a deep voice. You did as you were told and took your seat on his lap. You connected your lips again and you felt your heart melt when his tongue entered your mouth.

Without taking his lips off yours, he signaled for you to rise so he could line up with your core. You slowly lowered on to him, and let out a deep moan. Cole closed his eyes and opened his mouth like he was going to grunt, but no noise came out.

You adjusted to his size before you started to move slowly up and down. Cole helped guide you with his hands on your hips. You continued the slow pace as Cole whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you look so good from this angle.” You grunted in response before a knot started to build in the pit of your stomach, and you started to move faster.

Cole grunted under you at the change of pace and started to meet your bounces with his thrusts, and soon you were clouded with pleasure. You swore you were seeing stars as you started to go a little bit faster.

“Cole, fuck, please,” You mumbled barely able to form a coherent sentence.

“Are you close, princess?” Cole grunted between two moans, signaling he was feeling as much pleasure as you were.

“Yes, fuck.” You leaned your head back and closed your eyes before you felt Cole’s hand bringing your face close to his.

“Come for me.” With those words, he sent you over the edge and your toes curled as he continued to thrust up into your convulsing body.

Your orgasm sent Cole into his bliss. He was mumbling word fragments as a sense of euphoria took over. You bounced slightly to let him ride out his pleasure.

You both were sweaty, panting messes and you climbed off him and felt an emptiness as you took a seat next to him.

“Cole?”

“Yeah?”

“Blair wasn’t having boy trouble, it was me.”

He let out a laugh that made you chuckle as well, “I’m not going to say I told you so, but I knew it.”


a/n: I’m back and I finally finished this miniseries! Sorry for not uploading for a while, its summer break and all I want to do is nothing lol. Tell me what you think about this or any of my other writings in my inbox! Also, requests are open, but by popular demand, part two for “Bet” will be next!

mmmm too much nunvil hcs for the soul

Allura and Coran:

  • Nunvil is like a really light beer to Alteans so they have a naturally high tolerancy
  • Allura doesnt drink that mess so shes the designated Castle Driver
    • “ Coran, that junk is like rat poison even to Alteans i don’t believe this was a good idea”
  • Coran is the Altean equivalent to a vodka aunt, and he drinks nunvil like water and doesnt feel a thing
    • he gossips with aliens across the universe over a few bottles 

Pidge:

  • The “sociable drunk”
    • shiro doesnt let her have any at first but she sneaks a drink while hes not looking
  • Forgets shes on an alien planet and talks to everybody
  • Swears like a sailor even more than usual and tells wild stories that have even the bravest aliens in the galaxy quaking in their boats
    • Pidge, to a group of sketchy alien pirates: so there i was, 3rd grade, dragging her by the pigtails around the playground! and the bitch still had the nerve to say smth so i socked her right in the mouth n pulled the rubber bands from her braces!! yea Susie didn mess with the Holts after that! The aliens, visibly terrified: *scoot away*
  • Shes also a dancing drunk but once she and Keith started jumping on tables and stools Shiro Shut it Down
  • Pidge, hopping on a stool: “ykno what fuck it hEY EVERYONE ANOTHER ROUND FOR THE WHOLE BAR ON THE PALADINS OF VOLTRON!!!!!!” Shiro, slamming a hand over her mouth: “nOPE no its not we’re not doing that”

Hunk:

  • The “emotional drunk”
  • Also known as the ‘relentless crier about eveything’
  • “Lance listen ur like my best friend in the whole world idk what id do without u ur a good man come over here, pidge, u too ykno ur so brave for cutting ur hair and sneaking into the garrison matts a lucky dude if i had a lil sister id wish she was half as amazing as u u guys r like the brother n sister i never had, u too keith and shiros like my chill uncle of smth n i love u all so much i jus”

Lance:

  • The “came out to have a good time and is bitter he can’t actually get drunk” drunk
  • Its not fair he offered they do this! he was honestly ready to go to a space bar and get space wasted but he still hates the taste of Nunvil and after 4 drinks he feels nothing like is the universe out to get him or what!!
  • Doesn’t flirt with any of the aliens that come on to him bc they’re drunk so he just politely declines all night but he takes pride in knowing he looks good under drunk goggles
  • After 6 rounds he gives up and settles on drinking something fruity from a thin glass and taking embarrassing pictures of Keith
    • Even if he can’t get drunk he can still have a good time

Keith:

  • First of all, he’s a huge light weight. Even more than Pidge n shes half his body mass jot that down
    • All it takes is like 2 rounds during a competition with Lance and hes Out
  • Somehow switches between the “goofy” drunk and the “always dtf (down to fight)” drunk in 4 seconds flats
    • Keith: Lance is really pretty…. Anyone: really? I don’t see it- Keith, holding a knife to their throat: what the fuck does that mean
  • Laughs at everything. A lot. No one has heard this much laughter come from Keith not even Shiro and hes known the kid for years
  • Thinks he can fight the sun and he will
    • All Shiro hears is “Hunk hold my cup” and hes up in 3 seconds to stop him
  • He somehow starts a fight over space cryptids with some alien and nope they have to leave their whole planet has declared war on them gdi keith

Shiro:

  • Is reluctant at first but eventually he’s tired of watching everyone so he takes one (1) drink
    • He regrets it to this day
  • The “venting” drunk
  • He goes off on vents about the Garrison for so long he doesnt even realize the alien he was talking to has already left
    • “I’m like an elephant, ok? if i walk into a room, its like, woah hes in there”

On the ride home, Allura is grumpy, Coran is unaffected,  Shiro is already developing the Worst Hangover in the Universe, Pidge is knocked out on the kitchen counter, Keith is passed out on Hunk’s chest while he snores like an animal and Lance is just now feeling tipsy.