shut up sparks no one cares

missing, if seen, please report to- [ teen!richie x teen!reader x teen!stan ] .3

summary: it’s the 90′s and richie tozier is still in love with you. in an unexplainable turn of events, the losers are led to believe that pennywise is back. and that you’re missing because of him.

chapter summary: beverly tries to find some clues but her investigation is stopped when richie and stan get into a fight

warnings: mentions of blood(very brief)

a/n: if anyone wants to be tagged lemme kno. this fic is so inspired by twin peaks that i CANT

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!



Students, if I may have your attention please…” A tired voice speaks from the speakers and the class falls dreadfully still. Beverly’s breath hitches in her throat; outside the window ominous dark clouds gather overhead, dulling the sparkle of her pretty amber hair, “There has been an… The police have informed me that a student of ours, (Name) (Lastname) of Year 3 Class D, has gone missing.” Hushed murmurs spread like wildfire. The teacher, with a fierce frown permanently fixed on her face, shushes them, “Posters with further information have been placed at school and around town. If anyone knows anything, anything at all, I urge you to step up. In the meantime, the police suggest enforcing the curfew again. This is the one and only reminder you will get regarding this matter. All classes are to end till 3pm, extracurricular activities – till 5 pm.” He falls quiet, “Again, if you know anything, please come talk. Help the family and your friend. Thank you.” The line goes dead, but no one dares to say a thing.

Beverly stares into the speaker as if her eyes could pierce right through it and see the various wires and mechanism’s its composed of. Her heart clenches painfully enough to spring tears and she smacks a palm over her lips. Missing. You are officially missing. That flimsy hope she held onto – that perhaps you are fine, and what they had accidentally overheard from the sheriff was simply police incompetence, - is promptly crushed to dust and she feels like a wilting flower seized by the cold Autumn weather.

She glances at Richie. He sits lifeless, staring into space; behind her she hears Jocelyn hiccup.  Beverly hunches over the table. The world spins in strange vertigo and it feels as if she dives into a pool of icy water of memories.

“You like him!” Beverly exclaimed, grinning cheekily and feeling o-so-clever.

Summer of ’89, before IT, before you quit and said goodbye to the Losers forever. You and Beverly had found a perfect spot in your backyard that to her child eyes appeared so vast and green, with flowers and bees buzzing around and tall old trees that seemed to reach the sky. A tire was hung on one of the sturdier branches and Beverly had slid into it and swayed softly in the air, watching your expression. Your hair was short. It had been long yesterday. There was a visible bruise on your cheek – your mother had slapped you in fright you had informed her lazily, - and Beverly couldn’t help but worry. After all, you followed in her example. Wasn’t this her fault? But you wore such a carefree look…Perhaps your glasses were so thick that they masked any inner pain you were afraid to show. Beverly would’ve know, would’ve understood you. She lived with a monster, after all.

You blushed like a rose in the morning sunshine; your fingers went to hook (colour) hair behind the tip of your flaming ear, but the hair promptly fell back. You still weren’t used to the new haircut, that you did yourself might I add. You picked on a few weeds and daisies. Lastly, you shrugged, “That obvious, huh?…” You muttered, glancing up at Bev and fixing your glasses – an action identical to Richie’s (or was Richie’s identical to yours?). Beverly couldn’t help but laugh. You looked so adorable when flustered.

“It was clear from day one to everyone except Richie himself,” Beverly stated cheerily, “for being such a ‘profound love expert’ he sure is dense.” She added. You agreed with a shaky nod. “But…be honest with me, okay?” She leaned in, “What do you see in Richie Tozier?” You blinked, “I mean, not judging, but…It’s Richie. Dorkiest dork of the century and half of his jokes are…-“

“-Not funny?” You finished for her with a raised brow. She nodded. “Yeah, I know. But he’s just so…cute.” A small smile bloomed on your lips, one that could be described only as lovely, “With his fluffy hair…and his big eyes…and he wears glasses, too, so I feel less lame.” You finished dryly; Beverly giggled.

“Yeah, well, when you finally do ask him out – because there is no way in hell he will do it, -  don’t forget your best friend.” She winked at you.

“Of course not, Beverly.” You said, quite seriously at that, “You know that I love you.”

Beverly hardly contained a grin, “…I love you too, (Name).”

She was so happy then, possibly the happiest she had been in a long, long time. The two of you sat outside all day, occasionally going to steal snacks from your kitchen and to inform your mother that the two of you were: alive, hungry and waiting for desert. When evening came you dragged her to your room – such a drastic change of scenery from her small gloomy bedroom- gave her your favourite pyjamas and ordered her to stay over. Which she gladly did. You brought out the girliest magazines you could find and the two of you had read them all night, painted each-others nails, attempted at hair braiding but both of your locks were much too short. When your family was finally in bed and snoring, you had sneaked out to get the Polaroid camera. You put the timer on it, placed it on your nightstand and hugged Beverly just as the flash pierced the dimly lit room.

“To a million more.” You wrote on the picture with a black sharply. That night, you had used up your fathers tape.

But Beverly kept only the one with your chicken-scribble on the back.

She had excused herself to go to the bathroom, shaken and choked by tears she left the classroom without looking at anyone. The hallway was cold and empty. Once she reached the girls’ bathroom, she inhaled a sharp whimpering breath and pushed it open.

The white tiles shine brighter than ever. A scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air, and Beverly herself feels the sudden need to smoke, too. As she enters the bathroom she sees only one person. Laura, your new best friend and partner in crime, stands in shambles, leaning onto the bathroom wall and starting into the depths of the mirror with the cigarette slowly burning away between her fingers. Beverly always considered Laura to be a bit boring. Kind-hearted and inspiring at times, yes, but for the most part Laura cared only of the latest trends and how her make-up looks. Oddly enough, Laura reminds Beverly of some girl from Twin Peaks – short curled black hair, a striped blouse, long denim skirt and different colour socks.Aren’t those your clothes? Her face is in a state of permanent allure; her brows arch strangely and her eyes are always narrowed as she examines each and every person from head to toe without missing a detail.

Now all of that beauty is melted – her skin is dyed in red spots, the mascara has run down her cheeks and she almost looks like a bad portrayal of a sad clown. Laura notes Beverly stand by the entrance, sniffles a bit before wiping a few stray tears with the back of her palm, “What do you want, Marsh?” She asks through gritted teeth, her voice raspy and numb.

Beverly gulps, “Do you…Do you know where she is?” And it is as if the question physically hurt Laura because she shuts her eyes and shakes her head violently.

Laura takes a long drag from her cigarette before she leans off the wall, “Do you know—“Her watery eyes meet Beverly’s, “-do you fucking know what happens when someone disappears in Derry?” She sways to the sink, pinching the bud, “They are found two weeks later. In a ditch. Dead.” She spits the last part, “He might as well have told us to prepare for a funeral…”

Don’t.” Beverly whispers, “Don’t you dare say that.” Laura looks away, “Please, you have to know something…You’re her best-friend.” Perhaps this is what Laura needed to hear because she glances up with a spark of hope in her sad eyes. Hugging herself, she sniffles again.

“Do you think I’d…be here, in the bathroom, crying if I did?” She asks, “All I know is that…Is that she hasn’t been sleeping well. And she looked tired. And she was having problems with—“And she promptly shuts up. Her eyes grow wide in alarm, “Never mind the last part.”

“What do you mean having troubles?” Beverly pesters, “With whom?”

“Why do you care, Beverly?” Laura questions tired.

Beverly freezes. Why does she care? Well, because one time last summer you were her best friend in the whole world, a sister – something she never had and still doesn’t till this day. She doesn’t know why you stopped talking to the Losers. Stan never alliterated, simply stated that “(Name) won’t come anymore”. It had broken her heart and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t cry herself to sleep the first night when she came to visit your house and you shut the door right in front of her. She was back to living in her small world, a small world you had broadened with your positivity and love, but she was back and now she knew she will never escape again. The boys are her only friends, good friends and she appreciates them a lot, but she want a girl to share her troubles with, she wants you.

And she is still hung up about you leaving, you changing. She still cares about you, too much to put into words but her heart sings when she sees you happy even if you will never return the feeling or even look in her direction.

“…Because she’s a good person.” Beverly says firmly, “And she doesn’t deserve this.”

Laura takes a step closer, now more composed, “Just…please don’t tell anyone. Especially not Jocelyn and the rest…” She murmurs before taking in a deep breath, “She was having troubles with…Everyone, really.” She squeezes out a sad smile, “Before she…she…” Laura gulps, “disappeared, she only really talked with that…Uris boy. Stanley? Your friend, I think. The last I saw her I was finishing my shift at Tea House…She stayed to clean up and I…left.” She finishes hollowly, “I can’t help but think that…that if I would’ve stayed, maybe she wouldn’t—“

“Do you have any idea who could’ve done it?” Beverly interrupts before Laura can spiral into grief, again. She shakes her head.

“I told you. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”


“He knows something…” Beverly murmurs to Richie, watching Stan Uris in the hallway. The said boy stands further away by the message board – your poster is right next to the cheerleading try-out sheet, - staring at it intently as if he could read something no one else could. The hallway stews with students, loud chatter and sombre whispers echo and bounce off the walls. The hottest topic of the day, possibly the year even, is your disappearance and everyone has to put their two cents into it. It makes Beverly angry. She hears people talking about you as if they had known you, the real you. She shouldn’t feel the way she does, she knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help it. Their fake sympathies and theories are nothing compared to the pain she feels, what Richie or Stan feel, what your family and other friends feel.

Richie frowns softly, “You think?”

Beverly shakes her head, “I know.” Her eyes trail from Stan to the boy beside her, “Laura told me. She said that he has been the only one (Name) was talking to before she disappeared…”

“I knew it. I fucking knew he knows something. And he didn’t even bother telling us. That prick…” There is a note of fiery anger in his voice and his eyes glaze over with hatred. Stan Uris slowly pinches the poster off the board, gives it one more good look - his face twists with grief before he can control it –turns on his heel and starts walking to the exit, poster still in hand.

Before Beverly knew it Richie had fallen into motion, swiftly following after Stan and was out the door before she could catch up. When she pushes the entrance open a cold shower of rain hits her along with Richie’s “Stan!”. Stanley turns and grunts when Richie grasps him by the collar. The yard full of exiting students stills and everyone pokes their heads in to see what’s happening. Beverly gulps. Her quick strides lead her down the stone steps and she tries to make way through the thickening crowd of people, “Anyone told you you’re not only a coward but also a fucking liar?”

“Get off me, Richie.” Stan warns.

“What’s going on here?” Beverly hears Bill’s voice somewhere behind her.

“Excuse me…Let me through!”

“You fucking know what happened to her.” Richie insists.

“I told you all I know.”

Just as Beverly finally struggles her way through, she sees Stan push Richie harshly with a fierce frown on his face. Raindrops dot the surface of her hot skin and lashes. Your poster had slipped from Stan’s grasp and sadly floated to the ground, into a dirty puddle, dissolving within minutes into a mushy inked mess. Beverly springs into action; she grasps Richie’s upper arm and drags him back, “Richie, stop it.” She hisses.

“We know you’re lying, asshole.” Richie spits, “I bet it’s your fault she’s missing, too.”

The unthinkable happens. Beverly shrieks. The crowd cheers and gasps and their faces twists with smiles and winces of pain. Stan had punched Richie square in the nose and he had stumbled back. Bill grabbed a hold of Stan, whilst Beverly still kept her grip on Richie, her lips open in shock. Stan struggles against Bill’s grip as Richie slowly brings his hand to his bleeding nose, “Don’t you dare blame this shit on me, Tozier. Because unlike some of you,” Stan’s fiery gaze goes from him to Beverly as he tries to break free again with another harsh tug, “I actually fucking care about her. Not the person she was six years ago.” And his voice cracks. He falls quiet. His lower lip trembles trying to contain a snarl, “I’m the only one of you who even knew her.”

“Then tell us!” Beverly cries, “Then tell us what you know, we want to help!” Tears start picking at the corners of her pretty crystal eyes and she shuts them along with her lips to hold in a painful sob. Stan regards her with an unreadable look.

He shakes his head, “You don’t fucking deserve it.” Bill’s grip on his loosens and he finally jams himself free; Stan stalks to the crowd and fearfully they let him through.

Shit…” Bill mutters, “You okay, Richie?”

The rain hits harsher. Blood mixes with icy drops and dyes Richie’s cupid’s bow in its sultry color. The boy nods shakily. Beverly hides her face in her palms.

What a mess, what a fucking utter mess she had created and they are no step closer in finding you. This is all her fault. Now Stan definitely won’t say anything. This is all her fault.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13@headcanons-for-losers @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo @cheshirecatbyul@broken-pieces​  @multifandom-states @darlingimawriter @chalatea @coffemistake @of-outerspace @headcanons-for-losers@official-maddibrown@httpvirtualgraves@beepbeepanna​ @watooosh @fcnnwolfhard

anonymous asked:

can you write something g where you and harry try sex toys and he ties you up and tries to use vibrators etc on you?

i changed it up just a bit but i hope u enjoy!!!

“So y’wanna tell me why?” Harry questions, gazing at you with a cocked eyebrow. The look on his face is smug and taunting, but just underneath his nonchalant exterior, you can see just a drop of hurt brewing in his eyes. You chew on your bottom lip, fingers twitching as your wrists rub together. He’s bound you with one of his silk scarves (you think it’s the red one he wore in his shoot for Rolling Stone, but you can’t be sure).

Harry’s still looking at you, waiting for an answer and obviously expecting you to be good for him. But you’re feeling a bit rebellious tonight.

“Can your cock vibrate?” you ask boldly, your chest tightening in victory when you manage to catch him off guard. His brows furrow together and his lips tuck into a fine line, and he sets a steely gaze on you. 

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Did I mention that I don’t wanna make spouses for myself anymore? Yeah…so when I’ll get on generation 6 (most likely year 2084 or something) of Roses and if I don’t change my mind until then, I’ll leave you guys to pour good genes to this legacy.

Katsuki Bakugo - Familial Bonds

392.“How long have you been standing there?”
“Longer than you’d like.”

47. “Just shut up and listen to me!”

141.“When are you going to realize that I don’t care?”

The scenario that no one asked for, haha! Sorry, I don’t mean to ignore requests, but this popped up in my head and wouldn’t go away so I had to get it out. Just so you know, it is completely separate from the plot so no spoilers included! Please enjoy. :)

Warnings: Swears, little angsty, no fluffy declarations of love- just hints of what’s bubbling under the surface~

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lustik-chan  asked:

6 katsudeku

6. the way you said i love you: on a sunny tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

There are some people, Bakugou realizes, that are just too damn good-looking—and Midoriya Izuku happens to be one of them.

Bakugou knows that no one ever expects him to be the observant, intelligent type (screw those people), and most of the time, he isn’t. Fights and training are really the main exception to that. But with someone like Izuku, it’s hard for him to not stare out of the corner of his eye, when he thinks no one is looking.

It’s a sunny, Tuesday afternoon when Bakugou finds himself staring again.

The weather is warm, but not too warm that it’s uncomfortable, and a soft breeze rustles the cherry blossom trees surrounding the park. Pink petals fall to the ground at Bakugou’s feet, but he kicks them away, leaning back on the wooden bench he sits on.

Sunlight washes over Izuku, who stands a few yards away, talking to Four-Eyes and Round Face. It casts a glow across his cheeks, making his freckles stand out; Bakugou wants to rub them away.

Izuku’s hair, curly and thick and soft, turns different shades of green as the light shines through the strands. One moment, it’s a simple, dark green; Bakugou tilts his head slightly, and it turns into emeralds. The next, it’s a forest.

Bakugou hates it. He hates Deku, he hates his hair, he hates his freckles.

Most of all, Bakugou hates himself. 

He hates that he notices every little thing about Deku, from the scars and calluses on his hands to the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles.

I hate you, Bakugou thinks, reaching down to pick up a handful of petals from the ground. He clutches them in his fist, enclosing his fingers around them, and when he releases, the blossoms are long gone. Only a pile of soot and ash remains.

Bakugou knows, as much as he wishes he doesn’t, what he really means.

I love you, he thinks bitterly. I love you, I love you, I-


He jerks his head up. “The hell do you want, Deku?”

“Um, nothing! I just saw you staring at us, and I thought, uh, maybe something was wrong?” Izuku scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“That’s not all!” Uraraka chimes in. “We heard you muttering something over and over, Bakugou, it kinda sounded like you were saying-”

“Shut your mouth!” Bakugou roars, raising his palm so sparks fly in Uraraka’s face. She jumps back, narrowly dodging what could have been a singed nose.

“I don’t mutter. I’m not fucking Deku,” Bakugou scowls, standing up from the park bench.

“Actually, Bakugou, there is a large difference between muttering and mumbling!” Iida corrects him. “You see, muttering is when you say something under your breath, and mumbling is-”

“Like I care,” Bakugou says over his shoulder. He walks away, staring at the ground and his footsteps.

He decides one thing, right then and there—Izuku can never catch him staring again.

anonymous asked:


NEITHER OF US HAVE PLAYED BUT I LOVE POKEMON AND I WANT THESE NERDS TO BE PLAYING IT TOO. pls forgive me for any mistakes, my knowledge is based on hearsay


  • Has been waiting for this day since he was 4. Him and Bakugou used to trek around the woods pretending to be Pokemon trainers and now he’s low-key hoping that this might be an excuse for the pair of them to hang out. 
  • Loves hatching eggs. He actually bought incubators so he could hatch lots of them during his 10k runs.
  • He just wants Lapras so bad. They’re one of his favourite Pokemon and he’s just waiting for the day one pops up on the radar.
  • Team Valour


  • Acts like he doesn’t care but if he sees the notification that there’s an Arcanine or Growlithe anywhere near he will jump out the window and go hunt down the bastard.
    *Kaminari in the bg telling him to love all pokemon*

  • The school is a gym and he’s been trying to become leader since day one but there’s no such luck. 
  • Team Valour (is not happy Deku picked the same team)


  • Loves all her Pokemon dearly and gives them nicknames and tells them how disappointed she is in them when they don’t win her any gym battles.
  • Has a Poliwag named Tsuyu and she refuses to get rid of it or evolve it. 
  • Is really excited for more pokemon to be added to the game because she wants all the eeveelutions. 
  • Boss ass Dragonite might actually win the UA gym for her. 
  • Team Instinct, it felt like the one with the least competitive people in it (yet she’s worse than all of 1A combined)


  • Vroom vroom engine legs were made for hatching eggs and passing pokestops.
  • Likes all aspects of the game but he’s a collector. He wants to have at least one of every Pokemon and wants to train his favourites to decent levels. He doesn’t like having just one op Pokemon. 
  • Takes everyones phones with him when he goes on a pokestop. As class president he must make sure that all people are happy and have enough pokeballs.
  • So so very jealous of Uraraka when she caught her Dratini.
  • Team Mystic


  • Aizawa is the gym leader and his main Pokemon is Persian. 
  • Present Mic keeps coming back to challenge it with his Electrabuzz but he can never win. The one time he came close his battery died. 
  • “KAMINARI DENKI, GET DOWN FROM THERE” - Jiro when Nari starts scaling the dorms to reach an Eevee
  • “NO. I’M GOING TO BE THE VERY BEST! LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS!” - Kaminari before he falls flat on his ass
  • All Might really wants to play but his aim is so bad.
    “PLEASE! Please, Pigeon! I just want to play with you”
{Whatever End | Aelin & Rowan}

Because I’m hopelessly in love with Rowaelin, I had to write this. Please forgive me if it’s… *clears throat* intimate. I felt like I had to at least try to write something smutty. So yeah, here we go… Rowan has been on a mission away for a few weeks and when he returns, Aelin is ecstatic.

Warning: mature content, not for younger readers; recommended 18+

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Big Brother! Kim Jaehwan

jesus my hiatus here was way longer than on wattpad

I have to do something

Big Brother! Masterlist

  • always sleep before 10
  • never sleep later than 10
  • but this really depends on what Jaehwan does
  • if he sings
  • you’re really good and you get good dreams hopefully
  • if he watches tv, especially comedy
  • you better pray that you would last the night without waking up
  • his psychotic laughs
  • omg his laughs
  • you now know the reason why your parents live in the apartment next to you
  • half the reason is about Jaehwan’s laughs and your parents can’t do a thing about it

  • Perks of having a brother that sings really good 
  • he is a walking music player
  • like, you can hear him singing while you shower
  • every weekend you two have this moment to just sing
  • bless when there’s time where Swoon’s around
  • you would immediately drop what ever you were doing and just listen to those two
  • only when they’re singing
  • Sewoon was just like you, he doesn’t know to give what kind of expression when Jaehwan’s doing his thing
  • (kinda like the time where the two were doing the mystery box thingie)
  • he isn’t that loud like everything he is
  • he is just lOUD when he wants to
  • you only see him cry once when he failed his music assignment
  • being the good sister you tell him 
  • “it’s okay, you’ll be fine.”
  • while mentally you’re like, “yOU GOT a B, boy. ISN’T THAT GOOD ENOUGH?!?”
  • (we all know how hard working he is, good luck JAEHWANIE!!!!1!!!)
  • im trying hard to be funny and make a good experience for you guys to read

  • ok, never, EVER! 
  • go to the amusement park with Jaehwan
  • …fine, it’s okay to go there with him
  • just don’t go on the Viking with him
  • unless you have ear plugs on you
  • unfortunately, this was the only time you have gone on the ride with him
  • you either laughed at his screams or covered your ears the whole time 
  • “*SCREAMS*”
  • this continued on the roller coasters too
  • to your relief he didn’t scream, that loudly
  • also, don’t ever go to any horror houses with him too
  • “God damn it Jaehwan, I still want to listen to music. I’m too YOUNG to go deaf!!”
  • “I’m really sorry Y/” and he gets cut off by another jumps care and he screams some more

Originally posted by ong-seungwoo

ok… so this post is heavily sparked(?) (i won’t say that inspired because the part is only a snippet) by this post/ Wanna One Go episode snippet thing

please feed me with requests

gosh i sound so desperate (am i not)

the way I see it, Daisy misses those days, when life was simpler. When Team Bus was finding its way, and Hydra didn’t exist, and she was slowly falling for Ward, and they were falling for each other, and they made a good team

before shit got real, before so much went wrong, and before so many other emotions piled on top of the ones that had been starting to grow, and nearly snuffed them out

she might’ve understood Ward a little; they did have a connection after all. But after his betrayal, she had a hard time seeing any of the good that was still there.

and now, in the Framework, she finally does see it, and she understands who he is; someone willing to protect the ones he loves no matter what, who will bend the rules to save the people he cares for.

and even though she’s changed and grown and so much has happened, and this world has it’s differences, it’s not a total opposite. She finds herself trusting Ward, working with him, and those old feelings well up again, and that spark between her and him ignites once more.

logically, she knows the Framework isn’t real and she’ll have to leave eventually. But if the Framework fixes one regret, she finally got what that was for her: her regret of completely shutting out Ward and refusing to look deeper, to even look past her own hurt and anger, because people aren’t black and white.

she just wishes she could’ve seen it sooner.

But at least, for a moment, she could tell Ward what he once hoped she would say: that she finally understands, and that there are parts of the real him that she does like.

Alone- Steve Rogers

Character: Steve Rogers


88. “Just once.”

96. “Why are you running from this? I know you feel it too.”

99. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Warning: Just lots of feels and angst and general sadness…Considering doing a Part 2 to this one if anyone is interested! Enjoy! :)

“I need everybody in one this one, except for Agent Grant.”

I felt my mouth fall open slightly as I met the Captain’s eyes from across the room. Everyone around us shifted uncomfortably. “Excuse me?” I asked carefully, leaning forward in my seat. “Why am I not going?”

“You know why.” Steve went on, his fingertips pressed to the edge of the table. “You’re not at 100% yet, Grant.”

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30 Days of Thrilling Adventure Hour: Day 12

tl;dr: Favorite Sparks Nevada quote/exchange?

There are too many lines that have made me crack up in Sparks Nevada, but currently my favorite lines is:

Sparks: “Now who are y– oh, I don’t care.”

But my favorite exchange is:

Croach: “…And I am as close to human family as you will encounter.”
Sparks: “Yeah, uhh, Croach? We ain’t family.”
Croach: “…you saw my feet.”
Sparks: “Shut–nO.”

Awkward Sparks is the best Sparks. 

Also holy crap I managed to do art for this one, yes. 

anonymous asked:

ALRIGHT LEMME PUT TO YOU LIKE THIS LEMME TELL YOU WHAT I NEED. I need a Sleeping Beauty AU where Stiles is Sleeping Beauty and Derek is Prince Phillip and then the big bad Argent would show up and she'd curse Stiles to prick himself on a spinning wheel on his 16th birthday AND TO SAVE HIM mama and papa stilinski would send him to live with Jackson, Isaac, and Scott until he turned sixteen BUT ARGENT WOULD GET STILES BACK and he'd prick his finger but Derek would save him with a kiss OH GOD

yeah man except, scott, lydia and allison are my fairies because i love my girls kay


Derek peers over the side of the cradle, scrunches up his nose, “I don’t like him.”

His mother laughs, ruffles his hair, “He’s a baby, darling. You were one once, too.”

“I’m not now, though,” Derek huffs, glares down at the little Prince. “What am I supposed to say to him?”

I’ll talk to him,” Scott barrels forward excitedly, trips over his own feet. “Mama, can I give him my present?”

Melissa laughs as Scott tugs on her hand, gold dust showering out of his hair as he darts over to the cradle.“He’s not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“But, mama, I know exactly what I want to give him!”

“I gave him the gift of wit,” Lydia sniffs from beside Derek, “He’ll probably need it.”

King John chuckles, and Lydia remembers herself, blushes shyly, “I was just—”

“I would expect nothing less from an intelligent young fairy like yourself,” he says gently.

“I don’t have anything for him,” Derek tries not to pout; he’s really too old for such trifles. But, everyone else is giving the baby Prince something, and he suddenly feels like he ought to. The baby might not be doing anything, or seem interesting at all, but he’s blinking up at Derek so cheerfully, he wants to keep him happy. “Mama—”

“You’ll give him a whole kingdom one day, Derek,” Talia promises.

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Punk!Luke - Wild Rose (part 4)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY! Thank you for being so patient with waiting, I hope it doesn’t suck tho. :) Please, let me know what do you think! xx - N

+ please ignore grammar mistakes, I know there’s too many! :(

Warning: Violence, harsh language

Word count: 4.000 +

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[Complete] Under the Weather (6/6)

[AO3 FFN | Fic Tag]

Wash, Maine, and Project Freelancer. Sometimes the only constant is the rain.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five



The last time he sees Maine, it’s snowing.

The ragged gash torn through the hull of the ship opens onto storm clouds, thick snowflakes melting in their slow drift through the shredded decks above him. Wash, lying on his back, stares up and picks out patterns in the swirling flakes, feeling dizzy and weightless. He remembers the one time it snowed back in Texas. He remembers Allison standing under the street lights, staring up at the sky, laughing—

He doesn’t. He doesn’t remember. He grew up on a desert colony and found friends in the pouring rain and lost them, one by one, in the sterile confines of a spaceship. His hands spasm and clench into fists. He feels dizzy and weightless. He remembers. He—

“You’re still here.”

Wash’s HUD is flashing warnings about the damaged crossbeams above him groaning under the unaccustomed strain of planetary gravity. The snow is swirling. The snow is melting. He’s cold.

Footsteps send vibrations through the deck and, by contact, through his helmet. He thinks it’s entirely possible the vibrations will shake him apart. He wonders if they ever got the waste disposal unit in his helmet working properly. He wonders how much it hurt Allison to die.

A flicker of light above him. A flare. “Hello, Agent Washington,” Sigma says.

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anonymous asked:

I'm screaming can you do a ziall with like vampire!Zayn?? thnka you thank you thankyou


Zayn didn’t like to think he was ‘creepy’. He was just really observant.

He watches people.

Watches while he’s perched on a tree branch or is dangling his legs off the edge of a building. It’s soothing, in a way.

Even more so when he finds one boy that stands out from the rest, and now ever since then, Zayn only watches him.

The boy is beautiful. Pale skin with freckles that flushed in the cold weather, brown roots protruding the blond dye and he’s got the cutest little smile. Zayn doesn’t understand why he’s addicted, maybe it’s because of the way he talks or acts. Fuck, it might even be just because of the way he breathes.

Zayn can hear it, feel it. Feel his easy, evened out breaths, his heart beating like everyone elses except his was a beat that Zayn wanted to keep on replay.

They’ve never spoken.
They’ve never looked at each other in the eye.
They’ve never made any physical contact.

And Zayn wanted to change that so badly.

He wants to hear his voice early in the morning, whining about waking up so early while Zayn just chuckles, not tired, wide awake from not sleeping at all.

He wants to look into those eyes and read all his emotions, all his thoughts and scare away all his fears.

And of course, Zayn wants to feel that soft, warm skin under the pads on his fingers. He wants to feel that heart beat up close.

Zayn wouldn’t bite him. He was too pure, too innocent. Not a single tattoo on his skin or a scowl on his face. He was an angel from heaven sent to earth to become Zayn’s addiction.

Addiction. That’s all Zayn thought he was. But he now he knows it’s something more.

Niall was his name. Niall Horan.

Zayn didn’t think he’d ever find a negative side about Niall, but when he began following the boy, he realised that there was one thing that he did that made Zayn’s fists clench.

It was how touchy he was with his friends. And how much his friends placed their hands all over him.

It’s like they were taunting him, knowing he was watching and knowing that he can’t touch him but they can.

The next day Zayn swore to himself that he would talk to him. And he did. Sort of.

He muttered something to him, at least. They weren’t proper english words but he’s sure that counts.

He just ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. Oops.

“And I was just – shit!” He was talking to that small brunet guy with the nice hair. “Sorry, mate.” He apologises, smiling up at Zayn and yeah, if Zayn had a heart, it’d stop beating.

He’d also wouldn’t be able to breathe but it seems he didn’t need to have fully functioning lungs for that, the breath rushing out of him when he’s met with the deepest shade of blue.

They freeze for a moment, Zayn muttering something along the lines of an apology but he can’t make sense of anything because he’s staring at Niall and taking him in and just feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.

It’s even better when he catches Niall staring as well.

His friend steps back, a low whistle escaping his lips as he stares at the two with raised eyebrows. “Sparks are flying.” He says but Zayn doesn’t care, he’s too focused on how Niall grins at his friend then blushes before hitting him playfully. “Shut up, Louis.”

It escalated from there.

Zayn began following him more openly, not hiding in the shadows anymore. He still hasn’t properly spoken to him yet, but he loves being a few feet away from him. Just the easy thrum of his heart beat is enough to calm Zayn down when he sees another one of his friend’s squeeze his ass.

When he’s following him one day, things backfire. Niall catches him.

The blond disappears around a corner and Zayn trails behind slowly, only to be pinned up against a brick wall in a dark alley seconds later.

“Alright, you need to tell me why you’re following me. I-I’m sick of it! You’re always around and – I don’t get it.” Zayn stays silent, eyes wide but soft as they watch Niall’s lips move.

“S-Stop staring at me!” He isn’t as strong as he thinks he is, Zayn thinks. The hands wrapped around his wrist loose and not as tight. Zayn worries that if he was a real stalker Niall would never have been able to protect himself.

The blond’s shaking and then he’s calm as he lets go, realising Zayn won’t hurt him. He still looks scared though. “What.. what do you want?”

Zayn bites his lip, eyes flickering a dangerous red which he held back. “You.”

The next time they see each other, Niall greets him with a small smile, and Zayn returns it.

The time after that, they talk and Zayn makes Niall laugh, he loves the sound of it, might even like it more than his heart beat.

Then everything’s great, Niall even considers Zayn as a friend and he kisses Zayn goodnight one time.

But then Niall finds out. And Zayn’s life tumbles.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zayn tugs at his hair frustratingly. “You’d be afraid of me, I don’t want that.” Niall stays silent. Before, “I’m not afraid,”

Zayn shakes his head, backs away because this is so wrong. He shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. “You should be,”

“But you’d never hurt me.”

Zayn looks at him. That’s true. Niall’s eyes are glassy, shining under the light of the moon and reflecting on his skin making him even more angel like.

“And you’d never want to leave me alone.” That’s also true and Zayn begins to wonder that maybe Niall wasn’t as oblivious as he originally thought. “You’d never do that, Zayn. I know you wouldn’t.”

Zayn walks towards him, his hands coming up to brush his thumbs over Niall’s warm cheeks. “I wouldn’t want to.” He presses their foreheads together and stares into his eyes and the whole thing’s a little intimate and Zayn doesnt know what he’s doing but he can feel Niall’s emotions, he can feel his heart beating quick when he brushes their lips together lightly. “I’ve wanted you for so long,”

Niall shivers, “Now you can have me.”


Happy “the anniversary of when my favourite character got his life torn apart” day

All Sirius will allow himself to think is fuck, he wants a cigarette.

That’s what he tells himself, because dread is spreading icy fingertips through him. He tells himself that when he gets to Lily and James’s he’ll have a smoke to pretend he wasn’t panicking. James might join him and Lily will purse her lips and move Harry to the next room, but later she’ll sit with them anyway and James will tease that she just can’t resist the pair of them, no matter how much they reek of smoke. Things will be normal and they’ll laugh at how skittish this war is making them. Peter’s mysterious disappearance will be explained away by something trivial: a bout of the ‘flu he’s ducked to Remus’ to fix.

That’s what he tells himself, until he gets to Godric’s Hollow and the world comes crashing down.

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Another Hogwarts AU - Tragedy hits Clarke like a brick-wall, and Bellamy is worried out of his mind, even if he as a Gryffindor, is not supposed to be. 

Tagging: @marauders-groupie and @cupcakeblake

As Miller rolls his eyes at him when he’s caught him looking over his shoulder at the Slytherin table for the hundredth time, Bellamy is forced to ground out that Clarke has absolutely nothing to do with it. It’s simply to send death glares towards Ontari. Earlier that day him and Miller had caught her bullying a Muggle-born Hufflepuff student, and as Miller had said before drawing his wand: “Nobody messes with the innocent dandelions and gets away with it.”

“Mate, don’t you realize that you keep looking towards her seat? The Princess, where is she?”

Turning his gaze down to his untouched plate of food, Bellamy huffs, but fails to keep the worry out of his voice when he replies: “I have no idea,” Miller looks very exasperated by this, which is not a shock. A Gryffindor worrying about a Slytherin is the same type of non-sense as a Goblin turning up to a wizard’s birthday, and Bellamy doesn’t really understand it himself. But somehow, his stomach is tying into a knot over the fact that the girl - who had been a pain in his ass since she became the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team last year, claiming the pitch like a true princess - is not at dinner.

Sure, it’s not all hatred. Sometimes it’s him brushing a piece of blonde hair behind her ear when she looks into his eyes for too long, and sometimes it’s her laughing at his ridiculous jokes in potions class, making everyone stare at her as if she’s swallowed a toad. And occasionally, something completely different happens, whenever she bites her lower lip in concentration in Transfiguration, causing his gaze to drop to her mouth, or that one time where she picked a leaf out of his messy hair because it was “distracting her”, and he barely had enough self-control to keep from pulling her closer as she ran her hand through it, her own blue eyes widening at the unexpected affection.

“Screw him or murder him, Griffin! Your choice!” Murphy had called from the other end of the bridge.

“Shut up, John!” Her face flushing, Clarke had stomped away, leaving Bellamy to knit his brows as the other boy passed him, but he hadn’t been able let it go, reaching out and pinning him against the side of the bridge.

“I’d be careful if I was you. I’d mind my own damn business, because if you happen to cross one more line, you might as well end up with a burned ass in the hospital wing.”

“And who’d send me there? You?” Murphy had snickered in disbelief, but a spark of fear could be seen in his eyes.

“No, her. But I can guarantee you, after she’s put you there, you are going to wish it had been me.”

Truth is, and he’s not afraid to admit it anymore, that she is a much better witch than he will ever be a wizard. She’s brilliant.

“Earth to Bellamy? Have you lost your damn mind? Did she bewitch it or something?” Waving a hand in front of his face, Miller knocks Bellamy back to reality - back to the sight of Clarke’s empty seat and the knot in his stomach that is almost making him nauseous. Perhaps she’s sick, and nobody’s brought dinner to the hospital wing. After all, she doesn’t have many Slytherin friends, her best friends being Raven from Ravenclaw and Harper from Hufflepuff. It takes him only a second of thought before he has stuffed his pockets with a wrapped sandwich and a crispy, red apple.

“See you in the common room, mate!” Nathan shouts after him, and even though Bellamy is convinced that his best friend doesn’t understand this weird exception to house-hatred, he is also certain that he hears laughter in his voice.

Yes, Bellamy expects her to be in the hospital wing, because she never misses dinner, and her being sick would be a logical explanation. So he heads in that direction, but finds her not far from The Great Hall, in the courtyard. As soon as he lays eyes on her, his heart breaks. Arms wrapped around herself, Clarke is barely holding up against the sobs that are tearing from her throat.

He has never seen her cry before, and he refuses to just stand there silently. Instead, he moves closer slowly, frown deepening with every step. At the sound, Clarke looks up, cheeks stained with tears, and when she notices him, twists her gaze away.

“Stay away, Bellamy,” her strained voice can barely form those words, which it pains him - an unexpected ache shooting through his chest.

But he doesn’t take orders from her, especially if she doesn’t mean them. “I won’t ask any questions, I promise.”

“O-Okay,” with that, she allows him to take her into his arms and pull his robe around her like a blanket as the coldness of her cheek seeps into his shoulder. After a minute, she stops crying, even if the sobs are still causing her to shake. Placing a kiss into the golden crown of her hair, Bellamy rubs her back to chase them off her spine, and she finally looks up at him, the ocean in her eyes filled with tears that she keeps suppressing. “Why are you-“ Her breath hitches, so he hugs her tighter until it slows and he can feel her eyes close, her face gently pressed against the soft material of his sweater.

Eventually, they end up in The Great Hall, sitting on their robes in front of the fireplace, ties taken off. All of the other students have returned to their common rooms for late night board games and chatting, so it is actually quiet for once.

“Were you looking for me?” Clarke’s words are almost a whisper, everything about her facial expression still heart-wrenchingly sad. Apart from that, the only thing Bellamy thinks is that he hopes that she doesn’t notice the blood that has rushed to his cheeks.

“You weren’t at dinner. I thought you might be sick…” Suddenly, his own words remind him of the food he snuck under his robe for her, so he reveals it and places it in front of her, making a mere shadow of a smile cross her lips.

Picking the apple up, she studies it for a pretty long while before looking at Bellamy apologetically and saying: “Sorry, but I’m just not hungry. I-“ Her voice cracks just when he senses the presence of someone behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Bellamy sees none other than the Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, carrying two cups of - judging by the sweet, mouth-watering smell - hot chocolate.

“Miss Griffin,” she starts, eyes sad. “Drink this. It helps better than words ever could right now.”

Oh no. Those same words burn in Bellamy’s mind still, even though six years had passed since he’d heard them. During his first year, his mother died in a car accident and he’d been called to the headmistress’ office, where McGonagall had told him that her old friend Albus Dumbledore was better at handling tragedy, and he’d advised her that hot chocolate healed more wounds than people could.

Clarke has lost someone.

Now directed at him, McGonagall’s words cause him to focus on her instead of Clarke: “Blake, please make sure that she does drink it,” honestly, he’s about to tell her that he isn’t exactly the best advocate for that considering that he’d given his to the plant on her desk back then as soon as she’d left him alone.

Instead, when she has walked away, Bellamy places his warm hand over Clarke’s, and when she doesn’t pull away, he interlaces their fingers. Soon after, she speaks again, her voice fragile: “You know they all say that every bit of evil in the world has gone since Voldemort was killed? Well, that’s some next level bullshit…” Staring into the flames, Clarke can’t prevent the tears from falling once more. “They killed my father.”

Obviously, Bellamy doesn’t really know who ‘they’ are, but he has a clue. There is a reason why the subject of Defense Against The Dark Arts didn’t miraculously disappear with the death of Lord Voldemort. The evil in the world did not die with him, and now, it had taken a father from a seventeen-year-old girl. Although Clarke hadn’t told him much about her father, Bellamy knew that he was an Auror and from Gryffindor house.

He places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’m here if you need me.”

Bellamy brings her to the Gryffindor common room, and every protest from his housemates evaporate like smoke into air once their eyes fall on Clarke’s facial expression. Actually, as it turns out, the night ends with all of his friends trying to make her laugh, telling her all of the shitty jokes and embarrassing stories that they can think of. But the thing that makes it clear that none of his mates are going to use the “But she’s in Slytherin,” anymore is the fact that he wakes up next to Clarke on the couch the next morning, and nobody has drawn on his face with permanent marker.