self invite

anonymous asked:

What If one of the fakes had a high school reunion or something like that and just took the crew and it somehow ended in a shoot out with the cops.

Let’s just be clear, it’s not a pride thing. Geoff has never cared what people said about him, not outside a professional sense anyway; he knew exactly who he was, what he was capable of, even before he’d taken an entire city to its knees. So it’s not that he felt the need to prove himself, it’s just that there’s something particular about high school trauma, isn’t there? Something that lingers, even when it shouldn’t, something that emerges from even the most upstanding adults when thrown back together for a reunion, the bullies and the bullied, all desperate to show what they’ve become.

Geoff’s last high school was nothing like he’d ever been to before, a snobby upper-crust hellhole he was only in because his Ma’s third husband pulled some strings, and the other students were quick to point out just how much he didn’t belong. Between the tattoos and the smoking, the lazy looks and slow sneering drawl, it was always all too easy to label Geoff a loser, a drop out, trailer park trash everyone knew would be washing their cars one day. Never mind that he scored higher than most of his cohort even when skipping more or less every class, never mind that he is possibly the most well-read crime-lord in the country, back then he had an image and teenagers are relentless. Not that Geoff was all that phased even at the time, only a year or so away from the day he picked up his first gun and never looked back, but it’s the principal of the thing.

So when an invite forwards through from an email so old he’d forgotten he’d even made it Geoff has to laugh. Then pause, consider, hatch an utterly ridiculous idea, and laugh some more. Because he might not care, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy ruining the night for all the pathetic stuck-up nobodies he went to school with; rubbing your success in everyone’s faces is what reunions are for, after all. The fact that it has a theme, that it is masquerade of all things, really just cements Geoff’s resolve to drag his crew halfway across the country into one of the strangest nights of their lives.

Everyone knows the option to bring a guest to these events is, in reality, the offer to bring a romantic partner, singular, but it isn’t technically stated. There are no rules barring Geoff from RSVP-ing for 7, so that’s exactly what he does. Sure he receives a few increasingly less polite emails suggesting he’d been mistaken but he doesn’t even bother opening them, doesn’t try to clarify that he is bringing his friends, his family, not his entire harem. Let them talk; they’d do it anyway. Plus, it’s not like the Fake’s aren’t all entirely too pleased with the suggestion, cackling hyenas who spend the next few weeks laying it on thick, batting their eyes and blowing Geoff kisses, picking out increasingly absurd meet-cute stories to tell his scandalised classmates. Between creating new identities and playing dress up in masks and suits they couldn’t be happier.

Masks or not they catch every eye in the room when they make their entrance and why wouldn’t they; Geoff and his unusual request must have been the talk of the rumour mill and identity hidden or not clearly this must be Geoff, it’s not like anyone else brought along 6 dates. As stage whispers hit a dull roar it’s obvious no one was prepared for what they were seeing, perhaps imagined instead stained tank tops and a string of strung-out baby mama’s, not expensively tailored suits and an attractively refined entourage. Paying the noise no heed Geoff swans into the room with Jack looking elegant on one arm, Gavin at his most Ken-doll glamorous tucked under the other, flanked on either side by Ryan, Michael, Jeremy and Ray, all dressed to impress.

Shock and jealousy aren’t good looks on anyone, let alone rich brats turned elitist yuppies, so Geoff’s classmates behave just as poorly as he’d anticipated, years and newfound maturity doing nothing to stop the tittering laughter, the sneers and judgmental looks, fake pleasantry and condescending questions. But then, his crew didn’t exactly play nice with them either.

Ray and Jeremy immediately beeline to the food table and bar, respectively, and each set themselves up and settle in for the night; loud, obnoxious and tactlessly talking about everyone around them. When asked about themselves or their relationship to Geoff they’re both frustratingly vague, Jeremy chattering away without saying much at all and Ray simply staring people down until they can’t bear the tension.

Michael and Ryan set off together to explore the room but quickly separate to accommodate their vastly different methods of surveillance. Ryan skulks into the background, ducking numerous attempts to catch his interest in favour of fading into unlit corners and empty nooks, frightening the life out of anyone trying to slip away for some private time. Michael, on the other hand, seems determined to be the life of the party, cheerfully making conversation only to laugh in the face of every so-called achievement, ruffling feathers and causing major offence wherever he goes.

Gavin slinks off like a man on a mission and doesn’t come back for over an hour, offering no explanation for the absence beyond a dangerously self-satisfied smirk. His work becomes obvious soon enough anyway, once the yelling starts; Geoff’s two main high-school tormentors, mentioned only in passing stories over the years, simultaneously having huge, public, relationship-ending blow ups with each of their significant others. What are the odds? Across the hall Gavin laughs, all tinkling glass and sparkling charm, smoothly working the room like Michael’s mirror opposite.

Jack stays at Geoff’s side all night, hackles raised into something abnormally cold and unimpressed any time someone comes up to speak to them, protective instincts in full force no matter how often Geoff claims to be unaffected. He fills her in on all the worst gossip about those who approach, and as the night progresses and general unease begins to spread Jack mellows, sinking back into something sweet and mocking, somehow even more unsettling playing docile arm-candy than she was rabid guard dog.

Throughout the night the Fake AH Crew remain a key topic of every casual conversation; they might have been regardless, even this far from Los Santos no one can get enough of their scandals, but with the huge heist pulled just last week there was no way to avoid it, everyone has their two cents, their praise and condemnation. It’s too funny, the whole crew killing themselves trying not to break character, to laugh or correct or manipulate the conversation but all their self-control is well rewarded in the end.

Half the room removed their masks less than an hour into the night; too difficult to eat and talk and drink in, too vain to keep their hard earned looks covered, so it’s not at all strange when the Fake’s start to follow suit. Jeremy and Ray start it, the newest member and the one caught on camera the least often, casually dropping their masks mid-conversation. They each get a confused squint or two, a double glance, a few individuals trying to place them, remember how they’d met before, why they were so familiar.

Next came Gavin and Michael, having goaded each other out onto the dance-floor they were playing as much as they were moving to the music, laughing and grappling and generally making a bit of a scene. They snatch off each other’s masks as they play and the looks double, because alone they’re each distinctive but together, together, people have seen those faces together, somewhere they’ve seen them and so often together..

Last is Jack and Geoff, more graceful than their counterparts and moving with far more purpose they reveal their faces in the centre of the room and, like a party trick, they instantly catch the whole room’s attention. Out of context, in ones and twos where they don’t belong, the members of the FAHC could be mistaken but no one in the country would fail to recognise Ramsey and Patillo, the kingpin and his right hand, rulers of the most well-known gang in the US. And here they stand, casually mingling at a high school reunion.

In the calm before the storm the crew gravitates back towards one another, can almost see the cogs turning around them, the lightbulbs flickering on in a slow ripple spreading out across the room, disbelief and the first hint of horror swirling together as people start unconsciously reaching for their phones. As Ryan slips back out and wanders over, the last still masked, always masked, the chatter seems to crescendo then crash into something still and almost silent as a room full of entitled trust-fund babies recognise their own terror.

Finally uncovered and flanked by his family Geoff’s grin creeps across his face, slow and violent and more confirmation than anyone needed as he lets the oppressive tension sit for a long moment, arms spreading out to his sides like a magician revealing a clever trick before he breaks the silence; Surprise motherfuckers.

Guns are pulled from jackets and from there it’s all running and screaming, no honour or courage, just a stampede for the exits to the sound of cackling laughter and the occasional aimless pot-shot. The Fake’s aren’t looking for lives, not worth the hassle really, and this job certainly has no monetary reward beyond the wallets Geoff’s filthy little thieves have no doubt absconded with, but the fear in the air is delightful and even the sound of incoming sirens can’t ruin the mood. If anything it only hypes them up further, all savage grins and ramping excitement as they make for doors, reloading their weapons and pumping themselves up for a whole new police force to terrorise, Geoff’s magnificent little miscreants.

On the way out they pass a wall of yearbook photos, blown up large and captioned with names and all the old superlative awards. Ryan stumbles to a halt and snorts, snatching one off the wall and tucking it into his jacket to take back to the penthouse, though not before flashing the Lads a glance at that all too recognisable face, sending them into peals of screeching laughter as they pour out into the night. Geoffrey Fink; Least likely to succeed. 

just a few things straight* people need to never do again

since i’m feeling extra bitter tonight!

  • don’t call ppl gay as a joke/insult, this is 101 level shit friends!

  • DEFINITELY don’t call homophobes gay as a joke/insult. this goes TRIPLE for homophobic politicians etc who deliberately torture, or endanger/end the lives of, LGBT+ people. fuck your putin memes!!!

  • don’t suggest that violent homophobes are just closeted self-hating gay ppl or that “the worst ones are always secretly gay”. that places the blame on us for our own oppression which is a cruel move

  • don’t bring up the fact that “LGBT+ people aren’t all perfect, they can be abusers too!!” because we know, you paint us all that way in order to justify our oppression, and you literally cannot handle that conversation with nuance because of that history - so leave those discussions to us.

  • don’t say making a butch-coded character a lesbian would be “a stereotype” so it’s somehow more Progressive™ to have yet another straight character who just happens to take all her fashion cues from lesbian culture. we need rep more than you do, straight girls with short hair!

  • don’t insist that it’s somehow wrong to be LGBT+ and fulfil stereotypes, as though the negativity in those stereotypes doesn’t nearly always come directly from straight people being uncomfortable with people being visibly LGBT+ and having our own cultures and ways of identifying ourselves to each other

  • don’t act all offended when someone mistakes you for one of us. take some time to think about why you think they should know you’re straight, and why you think it’s so bad to be seen as one of us.

  • don’t make AIDS jokes. what the literal fuck. it was a fucking genocide you monster.

  • don’t defend the way we die on screen all the time. don’t write stories where we can’t be alive and happy and LGBT+ all at the same time without being punished for it by the narrative.

  • don’t go making or joining in on our jokes about how straight people are the worst. that’s you too, buddy, no matter how big your rainbow backpack is.

  • don’t talk about how there are straight people and Straight People™ and you’re better than those other Straight People™. that’s not your fucking call and if you think it is you’re definitely Straight People™

  • don’t assume that everyone in your life is straight. odds are a lot of people just aren’t out to you. it’s your job to learn to be a person they can feel safe being honest with, and to act like that person even when you think you’re only interacting w straight ppl.

  • don’t assume that all LGBT+ people are adults who always knew. be aware that in most groups of children, some will be lgbt+, and be respectful of that possibility in how you talk to them

  • don’t out us. don’t speculate on whether someone you know is lgbt+. don’t mention us in conversation purely to get Cool Credit for knowing A Gay, that’s weird and uncomfortable even if it’s not to someone we know/will ever meet. other lgbt+ ppl see u doing that and we are creeped out.

  • don’t pretend you can be privately creeped out by/uncomfortable w/disapproving of our existence without being a homophobe. you’re a homophobe. you don’t have to stay that way.

  • don’t fetishize relationships between ppl of the gender you’re attracted to. our sexuality and our relationships are not for your consumption and us loving/fucking each other is explicitly not about you at all!

  • stop talking about same gender relationships like they’re dirtier or more sinful than yours. stop pretending gay fanfiction is dirtier than straight fanfiction.

  • shipping isn’t activism, porn isn’t activism, and it’s homophobic to pretend voyeuristic fetishization of our existence is remotely supportive. especially if you’re still uncomfortable w gay & bi people of your own gender.

  • like it’s 100% ok to ship gay relationships but it doesn’t make u an activist or exempt from homophobia, and u do need to examine how u interact w those stories to make sure you’re not objectifying oppressed ppl for ur own pleasure - we’re not fetish objects, we’re people

  • stop showing up to gay bars uninvited. stop having your bachelor/ette parties at gay bars. stop treating our only places to meet each other like your personal zoos.

  • don’t hit on gay men or lesbians, in earnest or as a joke. This includes hitting on gay ppl of your own gender bc you think it’s funny or bc you want to turn on your partner. don’t fucking ask us if you can watch us having sex. stop asking for sexual interaction altogether from people you know aren’t attracted to your gender. you will not be an exception.

  • don’t pressure ur bi partner to engage in a threesome they haven’t said they actually want. definitely do not hit on LGB+ ppl on behalf of your bi partner. wtf dude.

  • straight women, please stop calling your platonic female friends “girlfriends” or people you admire as “woman crushes”. Take some time to think about why you think just indicating she’s a girl is supposed to make it clear that your feelings toward someone are actually platonic, and how that makes lbpq women you know feel.

  • when someone comes out to you, don’t act like they’re suddenly a predatory pervert w no self control. don’t stop inviting them to events or start acting differently around them. we interact w ppl of our own gender all the fucking time w/o making it sexual, stop interpreting every interaction w a gay person as sexual in our minds, it’s almost certainly not. ur not that irresistible, stop making it weird.

  • don’t pretend our existence is 100% about how we have sex. that means stop making excuses to not tell children about us! don’t act like we shouldn’t be gay in public! don’t act like your weird kinks make your experience remotely equivalent to ours! (stop ‘coming out’ as kinky you creeps!)

  • don’t demand we present a desexualized and platonic image of our existence and relationships at all times. we have wildly varying sex lives and levels of complexity in our relationships to sex, just like you do.

  • don’t ever EVER use the word h*m*sexual, it’s considered a slur bc it was used for medicalized justifications for our torture. there’s a reason 99% of the usage of that word today is by anti-gay groups.

*tbh this is really just @ straight cis ppl even tho it’s abt gayness since honestly most of these do not apply to straight trans ppl, bc straight trans ppl are an integral part of the same communities/face many of the same issues - and almost always have better fucking manners.

“Show me instead." 

i say this every time, but seriously… read @tyranttortoise‘s Skeleton Squatters and the Landlady. this latest chapter is one of only innumerable reasons why it is forever in my top favorite fics, period.

… and talk about seeing fireworks with a kiss. <333 honestly red is my eternal weakness, and i’m not even mad about it.

This is what a blessing looks like. 

She Hates Me

A/N: Is this terrible? Idk maybe, really it’s up to you to decide, but I do think the idea is good. Cole said that they were probably going to play the Ethel x Jughead angle on Riverdale in an interview and the idea of a Jealous!Ethel kinda inspired this thing + I’m playing off on the shadiness seen in 1x03 
Feedback is always greatly appreciated! 
p.s.- I apologize if there are any mistakes. 

Pairing: Jughead x Fem!Reader x Ethel

About: Ethel targets reader’s anxiety when she feels like the reader’s relationship with Jughead is much more than friends, and maybe she’s right causes the reader to avoid Jughead

Warnings: I think there’s a swear in there somewhere and the beginning might be a bit triggering as it’s Ethel being a meanie + mention of anxiety

Words: 2,500, give or take a few

masterlist | prompts


           You’re too much of a nervous mess to make sense in any sort of conversation, aren’t you? No wonder he never talks to you, he probably just lets you hang out with him out of pity. Your anxiety is a damper to be around so how about you just leave Jughead alone. He doesn’t need you in his life and he sure as hell doesn’t want you in it either, so maybe it’s time for you to finally get the memo.

           Ethel’s words echoed in your head as you walked home with takeout from Pop’s, a place you had loved to take refuge in, now an environment full of negative emotions– too much of them to bare all at once. Jughead and you had been close friends since middle school because of the sitting arrangement in your English class at the time. You didn’t think anything had changed between the both of you, well not until Ethel crashed joined your quiet nights at Pop’s with Jughead.

           She’d constantly make conversation with Jughead, and crack jokes that made him laugh chuckle. You were happy there was a girl interested in him, except that she was a total bitch to you. Scratch that, Ethel didn’t even acknowledge your presence or the comfortable silence that there was between you and your best friend before she got there. Jughead either didn’t notice or didn’t care and would just continue to type away on his laptop while listening to Ethel talk.

           Then the incident between you and Ethel happened whilst Jughead was in the restroom. This was the first time you and Ethel were left alone with each other. You wanted to start a conversation with the girl who showed such fondness towards Jughead, but found it hard to start a conversation with Ethel as she glared at you. You had already felt incredibly uncomfortable and felt close to tears seeing Jughead not need you as company anymore, but when she let those harsh words out you left immediately. You didn’t understand why she had it out for you, but she definitely seemed to embody the voice in your head. You could barely walk as you were struggling to breathe, so thank God Archie had found you on his way to Pop’s.


           It had been five days since you and Jughead had spoken. You had tried to distance yourself from him and Jughead had noticed your efforts. He tried to talk to Archie about it, but he said that he promised you not to meddle. Archie didn’t agree with what you wanted, but he also didn’t want to see you in that state of distress again. Jughead wasn’t sure what he did wrong as he hadn’t noticed anything off the last time you guys hung out. You had left early because of some family issues, but family issues always seemed to arise more often nowadays. 

          Ethel seemed to appreciate the time alone with him, but Jughead felt uncomfortable being there with her by himself. Not to say that Ethel wasn’t great company, which she was, but she kept on interrupting his thoughts every time she spoke. Jughead rarely heard you speak when the both of you were at Pop’s, but he liked the way your voice was smooth every time you ordered despite knowing that you felt terrified that you were going to say it wrong.

          Jughead somehow managed to make eye contact with you despite being in the middle of a crowd, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t want to face Ethel or Jughead, but having a class with both of them and Riverdale being such a small town made the endeavor extremely difficult. You had a feeling Jughead knew what you were doing and was just letting you be, but you secretly hoped that he’d get fed up with your antics.

           “Y/N!” you heard Veronica call after you, so you turned around and waited for her. “It’s been a while girl, what’s been up?” Veronica said as she linked her arm with yours. Veronica was very kind to you and you appreciated the kindness she showed not only to you, but to all her fellow girls (unless they somehow managed to not deserve it).

          “Nothing really, just that meandJuggiearen’tfriendsanymore,” you say quickly.

          “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught any of that,” Veronica let out a small laugh and pulled you aside from the crowds of students walking in the halls.

          “I said that Jughead and I aren’t friends anymore,” you took a deep breath while Veronica looked more confused than ever.

          “You and Juggie were so close, though. Kev and I were even hoping the both of you would end up together,” Veronica admitted. After the whole Ethel ordeal, you had started questioning your feelings toward Jughead, sure, but you had only confused yourself further.

          “Well it doesn’t matter, Ethel brought some interesting points up last time I hung out with Jug,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest. Jughead saw you again, this time speaking to Veronica, and had decided to talk to you to figure out how to salvage the friendship between the both of you. Of course, neither you nor Ronnie noticed the boy walk towards the both of you.

          “Really? What exactly were they?” it was Veronica’s turn to cross her arms across her chest. Her eyes were narrowed as if she knew that you weren’t about to say anything good. She was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. “Wait if you and Jughead were hanging out, I definitely hope you would call it a date, but why the hell was Ethel there?” her face was scrunched up in disbelief. Veronica once thought of Ethel as brave, and she was, but now she was beginning to wonder how much shadier that girl is. Jughead was at earshot at this point and started to piece things together in his head, stopping in his tracks.

          “It wasn’t a date Ronnie, you talk in those. Jughead and I hardly speak when we’re at Pop’s. As for why Ethel was there, she just sort of self-invited herself I guess. She asked me what I was doing one day and then she had just decided to tag along. And then she started to tag along for all of the times Juggie and I were at Pop’s,” you shrugged, your arms no longer crossed. You hadn’t noticed how much it bothered you until you said those words aloud. “Anyways, she just told me that Jughead probably only hung out with me out of pity, why else wouldn’t he speak to me when I’m obviously sitting across from him?” Veronica noticed you biting your lip from saying anything else.

          “Is that all she said Y/N?” Veronica asked, and you shook your head looking down at your shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world now. “Tell me what she said right now or I’ll get her to tell me herself,” Veronica’s tone was deadly, so you sniffled and mustered up all the courage you had to tell her.

          “She said that Juggie doesn’t need me in his life and that he doesn’t want me in it either,” Veronica’s face softened at your words. You had started crying so Veronica hugged you. “She was so mean Veronica, I mean who says these kinds of things to someone?” you pulled away from her embrace, cleaning up your face and wiping the tears away. You knew that you had told yourself those things, but it was easier to brush off when you could blame it on your anxiety. You definitely knew you looked like a complete and total mess because of that brief crying session. “I don’t even like Jughead in that way, I think. I’m just so confused and I don’t know how I feel and I just- it’s been five days and I miss him, Ronnie. Why do I miss him so much?”  

          “Because you care about him, and I sure as hell know that he cares about you, okay?” Veronica says reassuringly. “I think the best thing for the both of you right now is to talk to each other.” Archie had said the same thing, but you made him swear that he wouldn’t tell Jughead a thing. 

          “I doubt he’d want to speak to me, I’ve been ignoring him all week,” you let out a humorless laugh. Your face was blotchy, but you were no longer crying just sniffling from time to time. You felt the anxiety building up in the pit of your stomach just thinking about it.

          “I’d like to disagree,” Jughead said from behind you, making you tense up. “How about we ditch and go to Pop’s to discuss this Y/N, think of it as a way to repay me for the avoidance.”  

          “Go,” Veronica insisted as the bell rang. You nodded and sent her a small forced smile before turning to face Jughead.

          “Lead the way,” you mumble, keeping your head down.


           Sitting in a booth at Pop’s next to Jughead made you feel sick. You wanted to curl up in a ball and cry while hoping the earth would swallow you up whole.

          “Earth to Y/N,” Jughead snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes felt droopy so you didn’t bother to turn and look him in the eyes, not like you would have been able to anyways. You hummed to let Jughead know you were listening. “So now you’re spacing out on me?”

          “Sorry,” you mumbled an apology. You had to try to stop distancing yourself from the feelings this place brought or else no progress would be made. Your therapist had told you that before, and now you were finally taking her advice.

          “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jughead asked, wanting the answers he should have asked for from the very beginning.

          “Tell you what exactly,” you weren’t about to start talking about the wrong thing, especially considering the fact that it wouldn’t have been the first time you did that.

          “About Ethel. Why didn’t you tell me she basically targeted your anxiety?” it was hard for Jughead to get through asking the question.

          “I didn’t want you to confirm what she had said,” you said quietly, shifting in the booth.

          “You actually believed her?”

          “I didn’t want to, but then I started analyzing everything and I noticed how our dynamic had changed from talking at all times to now hardly even saying any words when we’re near each other–”

          “That’s because we can literally make eye contact and have a full conversation Y/N… I don’t hang out…,” Jughead trailed off again, the words he was about to say felt as if they were burning his throat. He sighed, “Y/N I enjoy your company, just sitting across or next to you is good enough for me. I don’t need to have full conversations with you because you know me well enough to know that whenever I start whining like a baby when you get up it’s because I want you to grab me more food, or that when my hands are carefully tapping at the keyboard of my laptop it’s because I don’t know how to continue. You start talking about your day in hopes that I’ll figure out what to write and if I still haven’t started typing anything you start listing words alphabetically, which actually does help.

          “I’m the only one who knows that you only get the crease in between your brows when you’re trying to remember something you forgot and that when you start to fidget with your hands it’s because something is bothering you and making you feel uneasy. Y/N, I never want you to feel uneasy when you’re around me,” Jughead grabbed your hands. You hadn’t noticed you were fidgeting with them, you also hadn’t noticed that you were barely breathing.

          “Juggie I don’t know how I feel about y-you being this close to me,” you had said, barely above a whisper. You didn’t know what compelled you to tell him this information, but you felt the need to acknowledge it.

          “You think I do? I’m not even sure why I’m still holding your hands,” he said, his voice sounding deeper as he spoke at the same volume you did. He didn’t let go of your hands and instead, you quirked your eyebrow at him. He smirked, knowing that you were recalling the last time you held hands with each other. You gave him a small smile and noticed his eyes flickered towards your lips. You felt the need to do the same, and you remembered a time when you wondered what kissing was like.

          “Remember that time you let me kiss you?”

          “I remember the kiss, I don’t recall letting you,” you laughed at his reply, your forehead resting on his chest and your hands still intertwined.

          You were both no older than 13 as you walked next to each other on your way home. The friendship between the both of you had barely reached its first year of existence, while your anxiety was hardly existent. When you finally filled in the silence with a question, it was definitely not one Jughead saw coming.

          “Have you ever kissed anyone?” Jughead had scoffed, but you were genuinely interested.

          “Oh you’re being serious,” he said, as if he was surprised when you were indeed inclined to know.

          “’Course I’m being serious Jug.”

          “No Y/N, I have not kissed anyone. Have you?”

          “Nah, but I wonder what it’s like.”

          “It’s like exchanging saliva,” you gave Jughead a shove as the both of you laughed lightly. You guys neared your house and you were bummed you had to leave Jughead’s side.

          “Thanks for walkin’ me home Jug.”

          “It’s not a problem, you should know that by now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

          You smiled and he seemed satisfied with that response when you planted a kiss on his lips. He was so surprised he didn’t even get to kiss you back, but you were happy with what you had gotten.

          “Not like exchanging saliva at all,” you grinned at him and skipped your way to the door. “Bye Juggie, I’ll see you tomorrow!” and with that you went inside.

          “When did everything get so complicated?” you ask, looking up at the boy. Your anxiety levels grew exponentially a month after that because the arguments between your parents grew just as much.

          “When we started to experience different types of feelings at the same time probably,” you hummed in agreement and a quiet fell over the both of you. You sat up straight in your seat, making eye contact with Jughead, but neither of you could explain why there was a feeling of panic being shared between the both of you. Maybe it was just nervous jitters that you were both feeling, but it felt a bit too suffocating to just be that. The both of you seemed to make a subconscious effort to lean in, but separated from each other, hands no longer being held either.

          “We should figure out how we feel about each other first?” you say but it comes out as a question instead of a statement.

          “Yeah,” Jughead said quickly, which made you laugh. “I mean, yes. We should definitely get our feelings straight before moving ahead.”

          And with that, you guys shook on it.

Refresh & Renew Shower Sachet 🚿

A sachet meant to cleanse one’s self and invite positive energy into their life.


Ingredients: 

  • Lemongrass
  • Dried Orange Peels
  • Pink Himalayan Salt
  • Lime essential oil (20 - 30 drops)
  • Orange essential oil (20 - 30 drops)
  • Mesh organza bag

Instructions: 

  1. Combine the dry ingredients first (herbs and salt) and add to bag
  2. Add essential oils to the bag
  3. Set sachet in the corner of your shower where water can wash over it
  4. Let the aroma of lemongrass, orange, and lime cleanse the negative energy around you and bring forth positive energy in its place
Student Council Prez [9]

Episode 8 - Episode 9 - Episode 9.5 OR Episode 10
Words: 5.6k
Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au

Yoongi didn’t completely break his wrist.

When you went to the private doctor with him, they told you it was more of a severe sprain, some of his ligaments damaged from the fall. And now he had a cast wrapped around his entire arm. It would take anywhere from two to eight weeks to heal and they told you, very specifically that he was not to put any pressure on it and alleviate all heavy weights.

Yoongi on the other hand, told you that you should be happy he wasn’t suing you.

But no matter how much disdain you felt for him, you couldn’t help the wash of guilt that drowned you whole.

You were the one who pushed him after all.

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Promises

Pairing: Park Jimin / Reader

Genre: Expecting parents AU, Fluff + Slight angst

Rating: PG-15

Warnings: Implied sex

Summary: First times are meaningless without promises to bind them.

Count: 1342 words.

Note: Based on this request. I don’t know if this really counts as expecting parents, but I hope you enjoy it @baekfast-club !

Promises

i.

When they first fell in love, it was on a warm summer day. She sat on the hood of his car, appareled in shorts and a light blue tank top which complimented her curves. Jimin had watched as perspiration glossed her skin, noticeable droplets trailing down her neck and met in the slight dip that was her collarbones. She gazed off into the distance and rested her chin on an elevated knee, scraped and bruised. He had wanted to inquire if she had gotten in another fight, but there was an intentional conversation about the philosophy of love instead.

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Glitter paths

Ever wondered why the reflection of the sun or moon on water sometimes takes the form of an orb, while at others a magical seeming path seems to be crossing the water towards your good self, as if inviting you to step through into the middlemarches? The answer is wind. When the water is still and quiet, a glowing orb shines back at you. Add the slightest choppiness though, and a glittering path seems to flow towards you over the water. The ripples or waves turn the surface from one large mirror into countless smaller ones that create the effect of the path, reflecting the light as a diamond’s facets towards the watcher’s open eyes. In this photo the full moon is sitting pretty between a couple of icebergs.

Loz

Image credit: Dennis Ingemann

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10-Minute Yoga For Self Care

Yoga With Adriene writes:

10-Min Yoga For Self Care invites you to take 10 minutes of your day to practice self care and love of self. We spend a lot of time on our phones, computers, in traffic, working and taking care of others. Take TEN to tend to your mind and body with this practice that combines yoga asana, breath and massage. Move in a way that feels good, tend to your heart space and cultivate self love with this 10-minute loving, healing, mindfulness practice.

loveisalaserquest17  asked:

It feels a bit silly to come to your inbox since we're actually chatting but you're good and you're indulging me in this, so. I'd like to have a comparison between songs harry wrote, like a timeline of his writing characteristics, something that shows how he's grown in term of songwriting, and maybe a little flash forward to his solo album? I know you've already made posts about SG, IICW and WITW, but maybe you could sum them all up and starting from the origins? And including Don't let me go?

Thank you for this ask, Julie!

I looked through the list of songs available to the public for which Harry shares writing credit. 

2011: Taken, Everything About You, Same Mistakes

2012: They Don’t Know About Us, Summer Love, Still the One Irresistible, Don’t Let Me Go

2013: Story of My Life, Happily, Right Now, Something Great

2014: Just a Little Bit of Your Heart (for Ariana Grande), I Love You (for Alex and Sierra), Not Our Fault (for Gavin Degraw)

2014: Where Do Broken Hearts Go, Fool’s Gold, Night Changes, Stockholm Syndrome, Change Your Ticket

2015: Perfect, If I Could Fly, Olivia, Walking in the Wind, AM

2016: Someday (for Michael Buble)

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“anyways i’m ace AND an aphobe so if you exclude me for being an aphobe, you’re excluding an ace person, which makes YOU an aphobe”

i’m crying this sounds like i just made this up to parody aphobes but my eyes honest to god just read this,,, i am literally so Astounded by the hoops this person jus jumped through to come to that conclusion

[request] [scenario] our song

((wat is this ?? i hope its ok HAHAh im so tired)) 

overview: seungcheol thinks the girl next to jihoon’s music room is super cute & he doesn’t know how to read name tags

10: “Teach me how to play?” 
35: “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” 

Title: our song

Member: seungcheol ft. jihoon

Genre: performing arts school au! // first-meeting // fluff // suggestive humor

Word count: 1564

“Hey, Ji?” Seungcheol asks after minutes of silence. The younger, artistic male’s hands hover above the piano keys, eyes leaving the handwritten music sheets leaning against the piano.

“What? I was about to play you the finished version.” Jihoon looks slightly annoyed, but nevertheless leans back and lets his hands fall into his lap. Seungcheol returns the expression with a cheeky smile, eyes wandering about the room.

“Are you ever gonna tell me who that girl is? You know, the girl in the music room next door?” Jihoon lets out an exasperated groan, throwing his head back as Seungcheol bats his eyes at him.

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