so proud to call against me one of my all time favorite bands

I was really struggling this week. Working way too hard, skipping breaks and meals, not staying hydrated, not showering, not taking my meds. it was bad. even at the busiest times, self-care is so so important. if I needed help, then I’m probably not the only one. all of these lil ideas are small and relatively easy and I highly doing something nice for yourself, even if it’s not on the list. hope you all have a wonderful day/week/year. 

(my personal favourites in bold)

  1. drink some cold water
  2. wash your hands and face with cool water
  3. make some tea
  4. get a blanket and snuggle it around you
  5. snuggle an animal/stuffed animal
  6. buy your favorite candy from the gas station
  7. close your eyes and listen to your fav song on repeat for 10 mins
  8. put on some throwback jams (high school musical, mamma mia, 90s, u do u) and dance around ur room in ur undies 
  9. make a calming playlist
  10. call a friend/relative just to say hi and hear someone else’s voice
  11. rewatch cute/funny/happy clips from ur fav tv show/band/movie on youtube
  12. put on a skirt and twirl (yes boys/agenders/trans u can do this too)
  13. scribble really hard with black pen on a blank page and scream
  14. look at the sky/moon/sunset/sunrise/stars
  15. write
  16. watch kitten/puppy/small animal live streams on youtube
  17. go outside, even if its just by ur front door, and take some deep breaths
  18. eat something - fruit, veggies are best
  19. change ur contacts/clean ur glasses if you wear those
  20. change your underwear
  21. if u can’t get urself to shower, wash off w a damp washcloth/baby wipe
  22. put on a cute/comfy outfit that makes you feel good about urself
  23. dont put eye makeup on so you can rub your eyes & they wont feel heavy
  24. stretch, do some yoga or meditate
  25. get a breathing/meditation app and use it (headspace is gr8)
  26. take a nap
  27. go to bed before 11 pm
  28. brush your teeth
  29. turn off bright harsh lights and use smaller, warmer lamps
  30. unplug. give your eyes/brain a break from screens for a half hour
  31. get one of those pet/family apps/games and care for someone else for a change
  32. find cool people on tumblr and send them anonymous compliments (that you actually think are true - spread love)
  33. find a quote, write it/print it nicely and stick it on ur wall
  34. watch a new movie
  35. boil some cinnamon sticks/vanilla bean for 5 mins so ur house smells pretty. if in ur room, use essential oil drops or candles
  36. make your bed
  37. vacuum 
  38. wipe down ur desk w some disinfectant
  39. clean something - a backpack, small area, fluff ur pillow, put away one shirt
  40. do your makeup all pretty and nice just because/dress up just because
  41. research into your dream job/vacation/city/whatever
  42. open up pages/canva/photshop/etc and make something just for fun
  43. build a fort and crawl under it
  44. find an easy diy and do it/ be proud of ur creative genius
  45. make a list of things that make you happy. stick it somewhere you’ll see it all the time
  46. print a picture of someone/thing that’s pissing u off and throw things at it (tape it to a dart board if u have one)
  47. reread a book that makes you happy
  48. clip your nails, clean the dirt from under them
  49. send some good old fashioned snail mail to someone u like just for fun
  50. take some selfies if you’re feelin it (see #40)
  51. fuzzy socks. enough said. 
  52. make yourself a fancy meal/cocktail/coffee/tea latte/drink/whatevs
  53. open ur window or put on a fan/air purifier. get some air circulating
  54. draw, even if u think u suck. 
  55. reach out to kids help phone (canada) or a suicide hotline if you need to talk to someone about more serious matters. you deserve help and care and support. (message me if you need resources)
  56. donate to a local animal shelter (if u have the means obviously)
  57. go for a walk/run/bike ride
  58. put on a face mask
  59. take a bubble path
  60. shave ur legs and moisturize
  61. moisturize 
  62. bake some cookies
  63. go on spotify/youtube and find some new music you love
  64. make a really fun upbeat playlist for next time u get the aux cord
  65. scroll through some wholesome or funny meme accounts. whatever you’re in the mood for. 
  66. take some cool pictures of whatever you want
  67. change up your room in any small ( or big) way that you can
  68. teach urself a new skill on youtube (simple like a hair style, or complicated like an instrument, whatever u want)
  69. sign up to volunteer at a library/homeless shelter/soup kitchen/retirement home/daycare center/etc. help those who need it. be giving. 
  70. put on sad music and cry. let ur mascara run. be dramatic. let it out.
  71. put rock music on and stomp and scream throw (soft) things. let it out. 
  72. teach urself the words to a fast rap song thats cool right now so you can impress ur friends/classmates/family
  73. print off some kid colouring pages and dont stay inside the lines
  74. brush your hair, take it out of a ponytail if its been like that for a while, or put it up if its down and in ur way
  75. diy a hair mask (coconut oil) and do that
  76. exfoliate ur whole body and feel like a whole new person
  77. clear out ur phone/laptop. delete old messages, numbers of people u dont like/hang out with, get rid of photos of shitty friends, apps u dont use, etc
  78. find cards against humanity online (or if u have it use the cards) and play with urself - make funny matches just because
  79. empty a drawer (or multiple) and fold ur stuff neatly
  80. do something that will make u sweat (gym, dance, clean) then take a nice shower
  81. take a second to listen to ur body. unclench muscles that are clenched, fix ur poster, massage/stretch tight areas
  82. move to a different area of the house for a little while. clear ur head. 
  83. go out, anywhere. window shop, go to a coffee shop/library and work. people watch if ur broke. 
  84. update your planner
  85. make Pinterest board/real life vision of things that make you happy for when in this situation again
  86. find a youtuber you like and watch their videos
  87. lie on the floor, listen to music and do nothing for a while
  88. give yourself a pep talk in the mirror and then stand like superman for a few mins. sounds silly but it works. its called powerposing. look it up. 
  89. repeating this bc important: hydrate!!!
  90. start a new tv show
  91. order something online so u have something to look forward to
  92. go sit with a family member and keep them company. u dont have to talk to them. 
  93. the app ‘trump dump’ will make u feel better about the current us political situation
  94. read happy news: find stories of students doing something cool, women kicking ass, men being amazing, whatever. bonus points if this inspires u
  95. sort your garbage from recycling and help the environment
  96. smile at people you see just because. smiling is good and nice. 
  97. look at old pictures of u and ur fav people
  98. go through old yearbooks and take a second to appreciate how far you’ve come
  99. go to a park and watch kids play. remember what it’s like to be young. realize you are still young. go on the swings and go as high as u can
  100. play in a sandbox just because u still can

xo soph

rockstar

hello! i got this fic idea based off this post and IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC OH MY GOD!! btw theyre 18 in current time, 16 in the flashback

thank u for reading and thank u anna for the idea and letting me write it.

summary: richie is the lead singer of a popular garage band in derry and eddie is his ex-best friend

pairing: richie x eddie

words: 1070


“Richie, we’re on in ten,” Stan yelled from across the backstage and Richie nodded, shoving the mic pack in his back pocket. Bill tossed him a mic, which he turned on and tested it quickly. It worked fine. He placed it on the mic stand, looking to see if everyone had their instruments set up. It looked great and they practiced all week long, but Richie was nervous as hell. It was their biggest gig, 100 people. It wasn’t a lot, but it was to their small band. They had built it up from nothing and they finally got somewhere, even if it was just popular in their hometown of Derry.
   The lights were making Richie sweat even more than he already had been. Less than a minute to go.
   “Five… four…” Richie’s heart was pounding, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the microphone. “Three… two…” A drip of sweat fell down his face. “One…”
   The curtains pulled back and cheers erupted from the crowd. A smile broke out across Richie’s face, all of his nerves washing away somehow. “Hey, guys! How’s everyone doing?” His question got cheers in response. “We’ve got a couple songs for you tonight, all classics and requests from you guys, and I hope you enjoy.”
   The band played exceptionally and Richie’s vocals were phenomenal. Richie always got really into it. Headbanging, dancing, you name it. Richie had done it. Performing could arguably be his favorite thing in the world. It gave him a sense of pride knowing he could do something fantastic. They really were a great garage band, if you could even call them that anymore. “Alright everyone, that’s the last song for tonight. Our next gig is at the school dance, attend if you can. It’s free and I know everyone loves that.” Richie chuckled, gazing into the audience. As he did, his eyes landed on a familiar face that he hadn’t seen in nearly two years. Eddie Kaspbrak.
   A smile broke out across his face. He had to talk to him.
   “See you all later, goodnight!” The cheers faded as the curtains shut. Sweat was rolling off Richie’s face and his hair was soaked. His glasses would’ve been fogged, but for gigs, Richie wore contacts. They didn’t help him see as much as his glasses but it was enough for him to perform with.
   Richie hopped off the stage, going into the outgoing crowd in search of his former best friend. He spotted him, nearly walking out the door. “Eddie!” He called.
Eddie came to a stop and turned on his heel, seeing a waving Richie Tozier. He debated on whether or not to keep walking but missing his four-eyed friend won out over reason. “Hey, Richie.” He spoke softly, his voice deeper than Richie remembered.
“How are ya?” Richie asked, smiling and leaning against a wall.
Eddie shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine. How are you?”
Richie grinned. “I’m fantastic. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I know. I have to go-”
Before Eddie could fully turn around, Richie grabbed his arm. “I know you’re probably still pissed at me-”
“Of course I am, Richie! You dropped me for your stupidass band and more popular friends. I get that. I don’t need you trying to pity me.”
Richie was baffled. He knew he fucked up, but he did not choose popularity over Eddie. He’s his best friend.
Was. Eddie was Richie’s best friend.


“Are you nervous?” Eddie asked, gently nudging Richie in the side. Richie shook his head, throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m too good to be nervous.” He replied, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.
Eddie rolled his eyes, shoving Richie away from him. “You’re arrogant.”
Richie waved his finger in Eddie’s face. “I do believe the accurate term is confident, darling.” He said proudly, faking a British accent.
“Beep beep, Richie.”
Just as Richie started to reply, Stan and Bill came around the corner. “Rich, we’re on in ten. Let’s go.”
Richie scoffed. “I’ll be there in a minute, calm your tits there Bill.”
Bill rolled his eyes and him and Stan walked off.
“I’ll see you after,” Richie said, pinching Eddie’s cheek and walking off. “See ya, Eds!”
Afterwards, however, Richie was nowhere to be found. Eddie searched for about ten minutes, before finding him talking to a group of popular kids from their school. He approached the group, gently tapping Richie on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be with you in a minute, Eddie.”
Eddie nodded in understanding. That minute turned into ten minutes, that turned into 20, then half an hour. He got tired of waiting for him and left. Eddie was pissed. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he couldn’t help but cry. He loved Richie, he just wished Richie loved him back.


“I didn’t choose popularity over you, Eds-”
“Yeah, you did. Every damn day you chose them over me and I’m done. I’m leaving.” Eddie grumbled, trying to pull his arm out of Richie’s grip, who hadn’t quite let go yet.
“Eddie, please,” Richie spoke softly. “Give the Trashmouth another chance.”
Eddie looked him up and down, trying to make a wise choice. He either A, accept this plea and possibly become friends again, which in turn would start up Eddie’s crush once more or B, walk away and never talk to Richie again. He searched Richie’s eyes for any sort of sign that he’d be lying, but all he got was regret and guilt. With a sigh, Eddie relented.
“Fine. But don’t fuck it up.”
Richie smiled, using his grip on Eddie’s forearm to his advantage. He pulled Eddie towards himself, wrapping his arms around his smaller frame in a hug. Eddie hesitated, but slowly wrapped his arms around the other boy.
Richie pulled away, running a hand through his still sweaty hair. “I’ll catch you around, yeah?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He turned to walk away and paused. “You look cuter with glasses on, by the way.” And with that, he walked off. A shit eating grin spread across Richie’s face as he walked backstage to meet up with Stan.


SO YEAH THATs THAT

okay ik he didnt “Confess his love” because i wanted to do a part two!!!

so lemme know if y’all want that too???

also send me a message or an off anon ask to be on the taglist, much love 

masterlist

ask to be on taglist/request a part dos

thank u so much for reading <3

A Mostly Decent Proposal, Cat/Kara, Rating: PG

Kara tries everything. She drops Cat’s name. Lena’s name. Supergirl’s name. The snotty publicist turns her down each time with increasing relish. 

“The tastings are for engaged couples only, Miss Danvers.”

And it’s not like she doesn’t try Alex. It’s maybe a little insensitive to ask given that Maggie hasn’t exactly given an answer to the spur-of-the-moment proposal yet, but dammit Kara is feeling sorry for herself. Now the best cake on the entire West Coast is being kept from her by the sad fact of being single.

Not that she would have married Mon-El. Honestly it had been effort enough to teach him to chew with his mouth closed. But it had been less lonely, less Kara left behind, less table for one and going to bed early and alone. 

She posts to Facebook in desperation, hoping Winn or James will volunteer to play her fake fiancé and grab one of the exclusive tasting appointments. There’s only four left today, and Kara wants one with a need that’s bordering on obsession. 

Before anyone can reply and save the day, a text from Cat arrives. 

Assistant AWOL. Have my car out front in 5. Meet me there.

Keep reading

Open Letter to the Clique from Mark

Dear Skeleton Clique,

We are slipping.

Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun use their many talents to send a message of hope and community to those who feel hopeless and alone. The band’s mission is for this message to reach those who struggle (usually with depression, since this is the struggle they (specifically Tyler) understand best), in hopes that it will also help the listener overcome the obstacles they share. They do send other messages, but this is the most immediate and by far the most important.

When a fan base selflessly rallies around this kind of mission and message for the sake of helping others to stay alive, it’s unspeakably beautiful and actually lifesaving. When that same fan base selfishly rearranges its priorities to put fan-status ahead of the mission, it’s unspeakably ugly and detrimental to everything it stood for to begin with. It isolates the message from those who genuinely need it most. It’s an ego-driven, life-threatening mentality.

If there wasn’t so much at stake, I wouldn’t care enough to write a single word about this. The reality, however, is that a truly lifesaving message is getting heavy pushback from many who claim to believe and live out these truths – all in the name of self-glorification. When that happens, we withhold goodness from so many people. Again, we withhold aid from those who need it, and I refuse to just sit here and watch that happen.

I’m not just assuming this negativity and selfishness exists, but rather watching it unfold firsthand. Furthermore, I’m not just assuming that people could really benefit from the message. How many times have you read “Your music saved my life” in the comments? Has it saved yours? Would you want it kept from you?

Let’s take a look at some (paraphrased) attitudes we constantly see:

1) “I’ve been a fan since [album title/year]”
I completely understand why somebody would be proud to have watched a band grow from the beginning. In that case, there would be few who could claim to have seen what you’ve seen, and that’s special in and of itself.

However, it’s not meant to be a trophy for you to shove in anybody’s face. The most likely reason somebody would do this is so that others might acknowledge and validate some high-level of fandom that they possess. Instead of seeking this approval for no good reason, acknowledge your fandom to yourself and move on. Validate your fandom by being a fan. Support the band and its mission.

Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to find more than one legitimate instance in which you should bring up how long you’ve been a fan. The only one I can think of (and it’s rare as hell) is if somebody asked you directly, but even then, just tell them and move on. Somebody was a fan before you, and there’s likely a band you’ll love that – through no fault of your own – you haven’t even discovered yet.

Boasting the number of years you’ve served in the clique doesn’t drive any of your points home. Not a one. Instead, it divides us, which is foundationally against the message and mission of the band to come together and stay alive.

2) “I hate that they’re getting famous.”
If that’s the case, you simply don’t love or support this band. Let me clarify.

There are only two cases (that I am aware of) in which it makes ANY sense to be upset about your favorite band getting famous: 1) They did so by way of “selling out.” In other words, they sacrificed their mission and message and abandoned what they once stood for as a means to an end (but even in this case, you’d be more upset about the means (selling out) than the end (fame)). 2) Their concert tickets are now much more expensive, which makes it more difficult for you to see them live. In these two cases, absolutely be mad.

The reality you need to accept is that if you love this band, it should bring you unspeakable joy when fame allows their message to reach more people. Otherwise, you’re pushing back against the mission of the band, likely because you just don’t want to share, which brings me to my next point…

3) “This is my band.”
I believe the “this is my band” mentality is responsible for a lot of the issues I’m discussing. When you link your personal identity so heavily with something that is fundamentally meant to be shared, you will inevitably forfeit your identity to the public when it actually becomes shared. You will lose yourself entirely.

4) “I hate how people call themselves fans but they only know Stressed Out/Tear in my Heart/House of Gold/Car Radio.”
Show me even one person who claims to be a Twenty One Pilots fan while simultaneously admitting to only knowing one or a handful of song(s). Seriously, if you see somebody do both at the same time, comment it below. Let’s see how many actually exist.

In other words, those who are upset about self-proclaimed fans only knowing one song likely have no way of proving that the person actually only knows the one song. Rather, they assume the worst of a stranger based solely on whichever song they listed as their favorite. If it’s a radio hit, they often call out the poor soul who simply said they like Stressed Out. Even if they do admit to only knowing the one song, in most (if not all) cases, it’s paired with something like, “…but I love this band,” suggesting they expect to dig further into the discography based off of how much they love what little they’ve heard.

The truth is that these songs are powerful enough for one of them alone to move somebody. If you’re not willing to accept that truth because you feel somebody isn’t doing the entire catalog justice, you don’t even understand these songs, let alone support the mission they drive. No matter how ideal it would be for someone to know the whole catalog, no matter how cohesive and intentional each album is as a whole, that can’t possibly diminish the fact that each song can speak volumes by itself. It’s no crime for somebody to recognize that. In fact, it strengthens this community and allows it to grow.

5) “It’s ‘Twenty One Pilots,’ not ’21p’ or ‘TOP'”
I actually agree that we should spell out the band’s name. They requested that we do so out of respect. However, we need to realize something.

Those who abbreviate the band name are almost never doing so to diminish what Twenty One Pilots is. Abbreviating is common with band names, and people are usually just being people. If you’re seeking to invite the person to understand the spelling-out of the band name, do so kindly and in a way that fosters community. This is usually the route the clique takes, and I’m grateful for that. This is just a friendly reminder.

Again, this is no time to take people’s innocent ignorance personally (see point 3). There is never a need to prove how much you know just for proof’s sake.That divides the fan base and pushes back against the band’s mission and message.

EDIT: Since this article was posted, Twenty One Pilots has released official merchandise with their band name abbreviated in nearly every way imaginable (2NTY ØNE PLTS, TØP, etc), which I have to imagine was their decision. Do what you will and remain inviting.

6) “Vessel is not their first album”
Again, those who suggest Vessel is the band’s first album almost never do so just to get under your skin. Don’t let it anger you. Instead, realize that it actually makes a lot of sense for someone to believe Vessel is their first album considering the difference between independent releases and label releases (some of their work isn’t actually allowed by law to be sold commercially or publicly). Be welcoming and kind. Nurture the clique. Let it grow.

7) “Twenty One Pilots is not indie/rock/pop/rap/whatever.”
The lines separating genres have become so blurred at this point that it’s almost pointless to even try to assign one to a band anymore. There’s no reason to get upset if you think Twenty One Pilots has been misrepresented by genre. That being said, by all means have a discussion about what you think it might be. But don’t get upset. That just doesn’t make any sense.

For the record, they’re self-declared as “Schizoid-Pop” and I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean. Discuss.

SO.
Being a part of the skeleton clique should make you feel proud. We are the foot soldiers in places the band can’t reach alone. By spreading this message, you help the band help others, and that’s all they want. That, and to see the clique grow.

If somebody flat-out disrespects the mission and message of Twenty One Pilots, by all means fight back. Don’t be rude, just be real. Defend the truth with more truth.

In that same vein, spreading this message is crucial. Let it through. Do not keep it for yourself. This band is not yours, it’s ours. Not everyone in the clique is guilty of this selfish mentality. In fact, I’d say the vast majority is still on track. However, I say again, we are slipping. Let’s find our footing.

Stay alive, friends. |-/

a very happy birthday to @themagnusbane ❤️🎂 this is late but i hope it brings you joy little sister!


“another martini?”

magnus had been lost in his thoughts, soaking in some feeling that was humming around his brain, the remnants of the day busy in his mind as he sat there at the bar of the hunter’s moon. he’d been lost in paperwork that needed to be finished, calls that needed to be made and thoughts about the night to come. he couldn’t help the way his mind was wrapped up in the idea of a long hot bath and dinner tucked into the warmth of the living room with alec by his side, sharing conversation as they talked about their long busy days. he looked forward to slow kisses as he drifted off to sleep, maia’s voice brought magnus out of that blanket of his thoughts, bringing the bar back into focus. the lights were warm and soft, glinting off of the edges of the shelves of alcohol behind her and catching on all of her tight curls. she was smiling that knowing smile that made it clear she knew magnus had been entirely lost in his thoughts.

“i thought we were at the point where you didn’t have to ask me that,” magnus said with a wink. then he let his gaze wander off towards the door, shifting the omamori settled in his fingers. he had been holding it since he got there, worrying his thumb against the edge of it as he always did.

“is alec meeting you here?” maia’s voice drew him back as he watched a few werewolves he knew walk through the door, followed by a small band of seelies who immediately tumbled into a booth near the door. she was still smiling that knowing smile as she started to mix him a fresh martini, her hip pressed against the bar and the warm light spilling down the front of the red shirt she had on.

Keep reading

hollywoodreporter.com
How Syfy's 'Wynonna Earp' Is Paying Homage to 'Buffy'
"The one thing that I strive to emulate from Buffy above everything else is that despite its camp factor and its low budget, it really was about something — about being a woman in the modern world and carving your path and making your own family," showrunner Emily Andras tells THR.

Much like Buffy, there’s some apologizing that goes along with admitting to watching Wynonna Earp. But if online fandom reveals anything, it’s that there’s an audience, and that audience is starved for strong, well written female characters. What do you hope viewers takeaway from the show?

Look, it’s a big concept, and it’s almost a hard sell. The title is slightly ridiculous, and the budget is like, $10. It’s a lot like Buffy in that way. I always say, you can see the zipper up the back of the werewolf’s costume. The one thing that I strive to emulate from Buffy above everything else is that despite its camp factor and its low budget, it really was about something — about being a woman in the modern world and carving your path and making your own family. You can enjoy Wynonna for both things. I don’t apologize for anything. Especially in today’s political landscape. I think about people who come home after a long day working, and there’s no shame in turning on a show that is pure escapism, that makes you feel joy and laugh out loud, and cry. And maybe make you feel a little empowered for 42 minutes. I want to show that there is more than one type of woman in the world, and there is more than one type of a way for a woman to be a hero. I really relate to people that have struggled to define themselves and to become who they want to be versus what society thinks they should be. It’s something I’ve fought against my whole life, and I think that’s why I feel so passionately about representing good LGBTQ on TV, as well. Obviously, the LGBTQ community is one that never sees themselves represented in a way that feels real and fresh and diverse. It’s time that our entertainment delivered real characters to us wherever possible. I just want people to feel inspired. I don’t care which character on Wynonna Earp inspires you because I think they’re all flawed and heroic in a different way. The way that people have embraced Wayhaught is huge to me, the sister relationship is huge to me, the bromance is huge to me. I tricked everybody and wrote a sci-fi show and then added a billion female characters in the traditional male roles, and it seems to be working.

You need to get to at least season 6 for your Buffy-inspired musical episode. Do you think Wynonna Earp could ever possibly go there?

Tim was on a show called Instant Star where he played a boy band manager. Obviously Dom [Provost-Chalkley as Waverly Earp] can sing as we’ve seen on an episode, Mel has a beautiful voice, Shamier is an incredibly talented singer and I believe dancer. I think Kat Barrell can sing, and if not, we can help her like they helped Amber Benson who was so shy on Buffy. And if not, she can rap. Full Haught gangster rap. With Nedley.

The online fandom, lovingly referred to as Earpers, are dissecting scenes, analyzing hand placement and making gifs four minutes after every “Wayhaught” scene.

They’re zooming in and looking at backgrounds, graffiti, outfits…

And there are Twitter handles for pieces of furniture and body parts.

Every body part of Nicole Haught has a Twitter handle
It’s hard for me to explain to people. As an artist and as a goof, how gratifying is that? That people are so in love with it that they appreciate the time and care we put into it. The online community has probably been my favorite part of this experience. When everybody’s live-tweeting together on Friday night … People love this show, but they’re also making fun of the campiness and joke about it, and it’s a safe place for us to do that. We can still be critical and tease each other about this thing we absolutely love. They’re so passionate and dedicated, and I think that’s what helped our show stand out in such a crowded landscape. Again, this is an underdog show, and it’s a hard concept to spout on Fridays at 10 p.m. I’m just really happy that it’s being judged on what it is as opposed to what it should be. I could spend the rest of my life with the Earpers. I’m so proud of them, and so lucky to be a part of it.

more

MESSAGE DELIVERED | interim 1

→ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader / Namjoon x Reader
→ Genre: fluff, smut, angst, humor
→ Words: 2,659
→ Rated: NC-17
→ Warnings: language, sort of unintentional sexual innuendos
→ Summary: A text message sent to the wrong number turns into a long lasting affair between two people completely opposite one another.
→ Note: Ok, so the interim parts are gonna be from Jungkook’s POV (to show how intertwined their lives are without them knowing) and I hope you remember the last paragraphs from the first part since they kind of hold significance in an early conversation in this one lol. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! :) 

(Also, these parts aren’t that important really (but this one is). They’re mostly because I love to write from everyone’s POV to make things more complicated lmao I’m sorry)

Parts: 01 : interim : 02 : coming soon

cr.


  • jungkook pov

10:11pm
Quick question
Is it socially acceptable to just get up and leave a discussion?
Maybe punch someone on the way out?

It takes a little bit of courage to send it, but when he finally lets his thumb press the send button and the message flies away with a sort of satisfying whoosh, he smiles and pushes it down the pocket of his tight jeans. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous, but it feels nice to message her again. It’s been three days after all.

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Dorian - Two Years Later

During the Exalted Council, if the Inquisitor speaks to Dorian, he sits in front of a chessboard. So, I headcanon that this happened (chess’ headcanons from here):



“I saw Demetra’s hand, Cullen.”
The silence felt heavy between the two of them.
 They had met a couple of hours before, when the new Tevinter ambassador had smugly shooed away his colleagues that were chatting around the Commander.
They both needed to speak and they both knew they gave their best if some chess game was involved.
So, they played.
Dorian spoke quietly again, tapping one finger on the luxurious chess board “Well, I admit I forced her to show me her hand. When you wrote me the first time I thought you were a bit paranoid. Now, I regret you didn’t write me earlier.”
The mage moved his pawn “Do not think I’m blaming you, of course. I’m furious with the stupid me.”
The Commander opened his mouth, his eyes gentle, but Dorian shook one hand vehemently “Please, don’t. I’m a Mage. And a very good one. I should have known that an ancient magic such as that damned Anchor is couldn’t just stay quietly carved on her flesh forever. Visante kaffas, I have been so stupid!”
“Nobody could foresee this, Dorian. Nobody. I’m sure Demetra told you the same.”
“Actually she told me to stop being silly and give her another cup of tea.”
Both the men forced a smile.
“How is she doing, Cullen?”
“She…” he stopped, staring at the chessboard. He couldn’t say aloud again what she had said him not later than six weeks ago – six weeks and five days ago, most precisely. He couldn’t. Dorian had the right to know, though.
“She is fighting the Anchor, but she’s not sure who will win.”
Dorian sighed heavily, pinching his nose in a poor attempt to hide his reddened eyes “We’ll save her, Cullen, even if I had to invent a spell myself bargaining with all the spirits in the Fade.”
Cullen looked at him, his throat painfully clenched.
“Thank you.”
It was all he managed to say and it was insufficient to express his gratitude towards Dorian. Towards his friend.
Dorian understood and nodded anyway.
“I told her she shouldn’t be here, wasting her time with this useless, ungrateful bunch of people.” the Mage hissed “She should take care of herself better.”
“I told her the same” the Commander captured Dorian’s Hero of Ferelden “But Demetra helped Thedas’ people while they suspected her of destroying the Conclave, calling her an abomination. She’s not going to act any different now that she carries the Inquisitor title.”
“I bet she also doesn’t want to put Leliana in a more precarious position.”
“That, too.”
“I warned her that nobody was going to thank her,” Dorian sighed conquering a position near Cullen’s Divine “And I fucking hate being right. But this? An Exalted Council against the only person who stood up between Corypheus and the world? This is beyond ingratitude. It’s monstrous.”
A silent nod was all that Cullen could add.
Cassandra had said something along that line, in a more colorful way. Varric, the same. Sera had already menaced to kill at least thirty nobles and twenty diplomats. The Iron Bull and Thom Ranier hadn’t spoken very much, but they escorted their Inquisitor silently daring people to say something wrong, as Demetra greeted people here and there.
Vivienne had been kind enough to keep away from the Inquisitor the most problematic guests, while Josephine took care of being the first to talk with the ones who would like very much spat their venom in the Inquisitor’s face. Cole had asked Maryden to sing Demetra’s favorite song and Leliana, though bounded to her role, had sent in her bedroom fresh flowers, trustworthy servants, useful information about the ones who still sided with the Inquisition and a giant box of the finest Orlesian chocolate.
Demetra had wept in Cullen’s arms “I’m so lucky to have all of you. As long as you still trust me, I’m alright.”
Dorian cleared his throat “Speaking about messy things, I heard there was quite a problem with the bedrooms when the Inquisition arrived.”
The Commander couldn’t stop the blush, but Dorian’s grin was full of pride “Well done, Cullen!”
“So everybody knows about my change of quarters?”
“Are you kidding me? The Commander of the Inquisition army that takes his luggage, ignores the outraged Chamberlain and marches in the Inquisitor’s quarters declaring that he will stay there, messing with thousands of years of protocol? My friend, you are a legend.”
Cullen shrugged “Demetra agreed and I’m not going to leave her alone just because a useless etiquette told me so.”
“Of course! I can already hear the minstrels singing about the Lion of the Inquisition who marched in his beloved Inquisitor room and took her in his strapping arms before kissing…”
“Yes, thank you, Dorian, I get the concept.” Cullen shivered, making him laugh. A sincere one.
“And I didn’t kiss her in front of everybody! I just told them to go to bother someone else.”
“So no kisses? Not even a little one?” Dorian pouted.
Cullen tried to not grin “I didn’t say that.”
Dorian winked at him “Your admirers will be heartbroken to have the ultimate confirmation that you’re not available.”
Cullen smiled “Finally! Maybe they’ll stop to send crows asking me to marry this countess or that noble.”
Dorian tipped his head on the side “Since we’re speaking about this, let me ask you a thing: are you going to ask her to marry you?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just fierce firm belief.
“Good. Soon?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not anymore. I had one, but now I suppose I need another one.”
“Do you have a ring?”
“I was going in Denerim to buy one when all of this happened.”
Dorian nodded again, stopping their match, and fishing something out of his pocket. Cullen took the delicate box from his hands with a perplexed frown. When he opened it, he couldn’t hold back a surprised sound: laying against soft velvet, a couple of golden rings glittered under the afternoon sun. Inside the biggest one, it was carved “Demetra & Cullen”. In the other one, he read “Cullen & Demetra”. A line of minuscule arabesques in the external part made them two little masterpieces of gold-working.
Before he could speak, Dorian smiled, quiet and sincere “In my Country, it’s the best friend of a bride or a groom that buys the wedding bands. Now, since you don’t have a lot of friends that can  be better than me and I’m quite sure Demetra loves me as much as I love her, allow me to follow one of the few traditions that I’m still proud to.”
Cullen’s thanks were too full of emotion to be as much eloquent as he wished, but they were sincere in every bit. And Dorian winked at him “One last thing: I won’t tell you to take care of her. I have no doubt you will because she’s lovely and you don’t want that an angry Magister sets your ass on fire.”
Cullen smiled, but he knew Dorian was deadly serious.
His friend continued “What I want you to promise me is that the two of you will do the impossible to be happy together. That you will treasure what you two have and you will fight to keep it alive. Life can be hard even for people who love each other as you two do, but you have something precious. Treasure it.”
“I will. We will, I promise on my life.”
“Good. And now, let’s finish this game. I want to take back some Tevinter pride and kick that awesome Fereldan ass of your.”
Cullen chuckled, putting the precious box with the rings safely in his pocket “Good luck with that. And… thank you, Dorian.”



Every reblog, comment and tag are deeply treasured and yes, I read them all!!!!! 

anonymous asked:

Hi!! I've spent the last few hours just reading your work and omg I love the way you interpret the prompts! You're making the long hiatus so much better already and I can't wait to read more! I have a prompt request as well: friends with benefits to realizing they like each other (with some angst added in!) thank you!!! :)

First of all thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! Second of all, here it is! This is more playful than angsty but I still hope it’s okay!

AU: Jughead never went to Riverdale High and never became friends with Betty and the gang the way they were supposed to. Archie, Jughead, and Betty were close in middle school, but once they parted ways and Jughead followed in his father’s footsteps of becoming a Serpent, their relationship was never the same.

Betty brushed past Cheryl Blossom as she hurried her way down the freshly-mowed lawn of Riverdale High’s courtyard, nearly snagging her baby blue sweater on one of Cheryl’s particularly sharp insect brooches as their shoulders slammed into one another.

“B, where the hell have you been?” Veronica called to her from their usual picnic table at the end of the quad, her prized set of pearls shining elegantly in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

Ignoring the icy glare that Cheryl tossed in her direction, Betty maneuvered her way through the crowd of chatting classmates to slip her way onto the bench of the picnic table next to Kevin, just as Veronica turned to narrow her eyes at Betty. “I’ve had to listen to Cheryl’s incessant ramblings regarding the subpar quality of her brand new Louboutins for the past half hour and trust me, when I reach the point of boredom beyond repair talking about designer shoes, you know there’s a problem.”

“Sorry, something came up,” Betty mumbled, shrugging off her pale pink backpack and placing it on the wooden surface in front of her.

“There have been a lot of things ‘coming up’ lately,” Veronica pointed out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say our little, not-so-innocent Elizabeth Cooper has a man in her life she’s been hiding from us.”

“Yeah, right,” Betty scoffed, unzipping her bag and rummaging through its contents to find the salt and vinegar chips she didn’t eat at lunch. “You know how terrible I am at keeping secrets. Remember your surprise birthday party last year?”

“How could I forget? You asked me to come over to help you with an English paper,” Veronica recounted the event in question, shaking her head in shame at Betty’s failed attempt at such a classic form of surprise. “The day Betty Cooper asks Veronica Lodge for homework advice, you know there has to be something else going on.”

Betty’s lips curled into a slight smile, her expression distant as she reached into the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, repeating this process for several minutes without blinking or acknowledging that there were other people sitting at the table with her.

“Kind of like now,” Veronica mumbled, waving a perfectly manicured set of nails in front of her in an attempt to snap her out of the trance she had fallen into. “Look at her face, Kev. There’s something wrong with it.”

“You’re right, V,” Kevin concurred, leaning in close and tilting Betty’s chin towards him with a flick of his thumb. “There’s an actual smile on it. Hell must have frozen over.”

“Hey, I smile!” Betty defended herself, her too-tight ponytail nearly smacking Kevin in the face as she whirled around to look from Veronica, to Kevin, and back again.

“Not since Polly-” Kevin started to explain, but before he could get the words out, Veronica lunged across the table to place a hand over his mouth, nearly knocking various textbooks and papers onto the grass in the process.

“Shhh!” Veronica quieted him. “Kevin, we agreed that bringing up such events should be handled as if one were at Hogwarts and in the position of saying the name Voldemort - you just don’t do it!”

“Sorry,” Kevin shrank back onto his spot on the bench. “Let me rephrase. You’ve been a little down the past few months, but lately-”

“You’re happier than Kevin during a Brad Pitt movie marathon,” Veronica finished for him, her eyes dancing wildly as she leaned in to point a finger in Betty’s direction. “And that can only mean one thing.”

“Betty Cooper: number one in her class, editor of the Blue and Gold and all around girl next door, is getting a little ‘Fifty Shades of Freaky’ with one of Riverdale High’s finest young bachelors,” Kevin concluded, his arms crossing in front of his chest as if he were proud of himself for solving such a complicated riddle.

“I am not!” Betty protested. “You two have way too much time on your hands if you’re speculating why I’ve been smiling more lately.”

“What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t notice such things,” Kevin pointed out, his gaze suddenly leaving his friends to focus on the parking lot in front of them. “Kind of like how I’ve noticed Jughead Jones’ massive biceps lately, holy hot and bothered Rolling Stone-meets-Abercrombie you can actually see them bulging through that leather jacket.”

The boy in question stepped out of his midnight-black 1968 Plymouth Roadrunner, his dark hair falling effortlessly over his eyes as he moved to shut the driver’s side door.

“Joining the Southside Serpents has really sat well with his upper body muscles,” Veronica admired, her mouth hanging open slightly as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket like he was plucked straight out a scene from the Outsiders. “Too bad he doesn’t go here anymore, I would love to run my hands up and down those-”

“Veronica!” Betty’s eyes went wide as she turned to glare at her friend, whose mouth was practically watering as she took in Jughead leaning against the classic car and taking a drag from his cigarette like she was watching the most sensual thing she had ever laid eyes on. “Last time I checked you still have a boyfriend, or have you forgotten about our good pal Archie Andrews. You know, captain of the football team, lead singer of his very own rock band, Riverdale High honor student. Ring any bells?”

“Oh please, I’m allowed to window shop as long as I resist throwing anything into my basket,” Veronica muttered, picking up her copy of The Sun Also Rises and fanning herself with it, even though it was a perfectly cool fall afternoon that didn’t even come close to meriting such actions.

“That’s wrong on so many levels,” Betty mumbled, pushing her half-eaten bag of chips away from her and wiping her greasy fingers down the front of her sweater.

“What’s Jughead doing here anyway?” Kevin wondered. “I thought he and Archie stopped talking once he moved schools a few years ago.”

“He’s here to see me actually,” Betty admitted, turning in her spot on the bench to look at Jughead for the first time since he had pulled into the parking lot. “He was the best writer we had at the the junior newspaper in middle school and no one’s ever come close to filling his shoes, so he’s helping me out a few times a week after school at the Blue and Gold.”

“You sure he’s not helping you out with a few other things too?” Veronica wiggled her eyebrows at Betty suggestively, her lips creeping up into an amused smile as Betty narrowed her eyes at her.

“Just friends, Veronica,” Betty assured her. “Jughead isn’t Archie’s favorite person right now and after everything that’s happened with their fathers - I just - I wouldn’t do that to him, okay?”

“Whatever you say, B,” Veronica shrugged, still looking unconvinced as she reached underneath the table to retrieve her cheer bag. “Okay, I have to go find Cheryl before River Vixens practice so I can warn her that the choreography she’s been throwing at us is too 90′s cheer routine and not enough Beyonce video like we were going for.”

“Yeah, and I have to go witness the bloodbath of bitchy, yet impressively clever insults that is sure to occur as a result so we’ll see you later, Betty,” Kevin followed Veronica’s lead as she made her way away from the picnic table, the giddiness in his expression made even more evident by the enthused squeal escaping his lips as he bent down to pick up his backpack.

“Bye, guys,” Betty called out to them, shaking her head in amusement as she watched them round the corner to head back into the school.

Betty kept her gaze focused on the chemistry textbook resting open in front of her as she saw the movement coming from the parking lot out of the corner of her eye. Jughead had pushed off his car and was slowly making his way onto the sidewalk leading up to the courtyard. Her breath caught in her throat as he took a step closer. And another. And an-

“And then there was one,” Jughead announced, his leather-clad sleeve brushing the soft fabric of her sweater as he slid his way onto the picnic table next to her. “What’s it like without chatter mouth one and two attached to your hip?”

“I don’t know,” Betty sat up straight, turning slightly on the bench to quirk a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “What’s it like without your manhood to back up that newfound edginess that drives all the girls crazy? Wanna find out?”

“Betty Cooper,”Jughead beamed, one leg tucking underneath itself so that he could turn his body to face hers completely. “Throwing the banter back at me like we’re in a 1940′s black and white screwball comedy. I like it.”

“You’re early,” Betty noticed, her eyes focusing back on the periodic table displayed on the inside cover of the chemistry book.

“I ditched the last two periods,” Jughead shrugged nonchalantly, scooping up the abandoned bag of chips on the table and tossing back a handful into his mouth. “I figured that I’ve already learned as much as I needed to know about 17th Century England and the Taming of the Shrew to pass with at least a C in both history and English and still function in the real world like an adequately intelligent human being so why not skip out early and come see you?”

Jughead crumpled up the now-empty chip bag and tossed it behind him, missing the trashcan completely as he looked back to watch it roll onto the grass. Leaning in close, Jughead rubbed a hand on her knee resting underneath the table, his breath tickling the exposed skin of her neck and nearly causing a thrilled giggle to escape her lips.

“Jug,” Betty warned, reaching down to remove the hand slowly creeping its way up her thigh and turning to give him a leveled glare. “We agreed, remember?”

“You agreed,” Jughead corrected. “I said friends with benefits was a dated form of emotional torture that benefits neither party in any meaningful way.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Betty reminded him. “To not get attached in a way that lets you mean something to the other person?”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Jughead admitted, his eyes flicking to hers with a vulnerable state of truth-turned-worry when he realized that she might night have felt the same way. “At least on my part anyways.”

“You know that we can’t be anything more than what we are,” Betty explained. “At least not right now.”

“Because Archie blames me for my father’s involvement in his father’s shooting and he would love nothing more than to see me strung up on the mantle of his nice and cozy family-sized home,” Jughead recalled, his eyes rolling backwards dramatically sliding his leg back underneath the table and facing the empty set of picnic tables across the courtyard. “Yeah, you said that when we first started - whatever you want to call this. Doesn’t mean I understand it. And it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Juggie,” Betty whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and caress his cheek affectionately the way she had grown accustomed to since they had started their relationship nearly eight weeks before.

“You know how I feel about you, Betty,” Jughead told her, his eyes softening slightly as his head turned to smile weakly down at her lips. “And I think that if you were being completely honest with yourself, you know exactly how you feel about me too.”

Betty knew he was right. She knew that she felt more than just lust, coupled with the added bonus of orchestrating their clandestine meetings, for the boy from the Southside who was more than just his leather jacket and tough demeanor. But she couldn’t risk her friendship with either boy in her life by making things official. Not yet.

“This is the way things have to be right now,” Betty sighed. “At least until Mr. Andrews gets out the hospital and everything just - settles down. Please, Jughead. I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t want to lose him either.”

Betty held Jughead’s gaze, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as her teeth automatically reached out to bite down on the tender skin there, a habit she had formed around the time she had started seeing Jughead in a little-more-than-just-friends kind of way.

“God, why do you have to do that thing with your bottom lip,” Jughead mumbled, his eyes flicking down to her pink lips with a fleck of longing in his gaze. “You know that drives me insane.”

“I know,” Betty beamed, her eyebrow quirking flirtatiously up in his direction. “Why do you think I do it so often?”

“Okay, if we’re still playing by these ridiculous rules you’ve set in place then we better get to the Blue and Gold room because I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to kiss you,” Jughead breathed, his heart beating wildly as Betty’s leg brushed against his, making his palms sweat in the best way possible. “Now.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Betty leaned in close to Jughead as if she were going to meet her lips to his, but swung her legs out from underneath the picnic table at the last second and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Race you.”

“You’re on.” Jughead grabbed Betty’s bag off the table and sprinted after her, not even noticing that there had been a figure lurking in the shadows who had witnessed their intimate exchange with a devious smile plastered on her flaming red lips. Turning on her less-than-adequate Louboutin heel, Cheryl let her waist-length red hair swing playfully behind her as she sauntered her way to cheer practice, already scheming and plotting how she was going to use this juicy new development to her advantage.

anonymous asked:

happy birthday!!! word: butt character: yuuri katsuki

Oh geez anon, what have you done??? Ha ha ha here comes your 5+1, Five Times Victor admired Yuuri’s butt from a far and one time… he got a bit closer… lol (The whole thing is under the cut, just in case although not super NFSW, it is all about Yuuri’s butt ha ha)

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes and for prompting me in the Nerd Birthday Game !!!

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anonymous asked:

Can I request a couple headcannons on how life with eight kids goes? :)

I accidentally deleted this when I was done and then had to redo it (:

UT!Sans: It’s almost too much for him. He never gets any alone time, and that kind of bothers him since he gets exhausted a lot. But he really loves his kids. And every time one of them runs up to him saying ‘’Dad! Dad! look what I made you!’’ He feels his soul swell with pride and joy. He’s good at raising them, and he has a lot of patience so he almost never snaps at them. He’ll raise them to become full of mischief though. And they’re always pulling pranks on each other, and you and Sans. He’s just as proud every time they get him good.

-PTA SANS. Omg he is sassing the living daylight out of anyone who dares go against you or him. They are never ready for his passive aggressive humor and retorts. They think that they can prepare, but he ge gets them every time.

-He’s very happy that their birthdays are on the same day. Because he could never remember eight separate birthdays. He does come up with great gifts for them though.

UT!Papyrus: This pure force of energy is no match for eight kids. He has never known exhaustion like this one. Waking up more than five times a night to feed eight hungry babies. Who also wake each other up with their crying is almost too much for him. Almost. And just when he thinks he’s handling the first few months perfectly. They start to crawl and run around too. He realizes that the first few months were just a test run. Nevertheless, he is truly a great father. Paying attention to all of his children. And always encouraging them to do and be their very best. He is constantly validating them and reminding them of how great they are.

-Their birthday is the biggest party ever. Because he wants them all to feel special and unique. Prom night is also a hell of a deal for him. Because he feels like he has to organize it all by himself. He’s helping them pick out dresses and suits and he’s exhausted, but oh so proud, He might even shed a tear as he sees how much his babies has grown.

UF!Sans: And he thought one kid would be hard. He swears, his kids doesn’t know how to chill. Which is weird considering they’re related to him. If it weren’t for the monster human thing, he’d doubt that they were even his. (They are literally crawling on the walls half of the time, he’s thought about calling and exorcist) But their snarky attitude makes up for it. They still behave, but he isn’t the best at raising kids. And if one of them hears him swear, they teach it to their siblings. And soon you’ll have eight one year olds all saying ‘’shit’’ and ‘’fuck’’ whenever someone speaks to them. You’re going to have to deal with teaching them some manners. And maybe get Red in on the lessons while you’re at it.

-But oh my god does he love them. Every single one of them. And any boy or girl who dares break one of their hearts are going to have to deal with him after. (Some advice to them would be run)

-He’s the kind of parent who tries to show interest in their interests, but he really doesn’t get what kids are into these days. Still, he’ll sit through their long rants about youtubers or actors. And he’ll grumpily get them tickets to their ‘’favorite band in the whole world omg dad you have to let me go see them!!’’

UF!Papyrus: HE THOUGHT THAT HE WAS READY. But nothing could prepare him for the horror that is eight children. His sleep schedule is so messed up now. And he has never know exhaustion of this sort before. He insists on helping you raise them, even though his job keeps him away most of the time. If you really don’t want to stay away from your job for longer than you have to, he agrees to take a break from his. Until they are old enough to go to daycare. Small advice, don’t let him do that. He’s a responsible adult but with his sleeping schedule so messed up, there really isn’t anything that says he wont forget that it’s eight and not nine children. And then he’ll go on a hunt for the last one before panicking because he lost one of his children oh my god what will he do now.

-It’s better if you take care of them during the days, and leave the nights to him. He wakes up quickly and always hushes them before they wake their siblings. If you wake up and try to find him during these nights, you’ll find him standing in the nursery with at least two of the kids in his arms. Talking in a quiet voice while rocking them gently.  

-He is such a mother hen. They can’t do this and they can’t do that. He wont let anything harm his little heirs. But for a guy who’s so protective, he tries to start training them as soon as they can stand. Please stop him.

US!Sans: He tries to raise them to be polite and nice children. But there are freaking eight of them and how is he supposed to do this? He’s really trying his best to be there for all of them. And if he misses even one’s first step he’s heartbroken. Until they waddle over to them. Then he feels better again.

-The nights are horrible though. Because he needs his sleeping schedule. Without it he can’t function. And you’re both equally tired for the next year. He tries to take the night feedings, and to rock them back to sleep every time on wakes up. But he is way too tired for that. You’ll find him sleeping in the chair in the nursery. Kids in his arms. Sure he got them  to sleep again, but at what cost?

-He wants them all to try out new and fun activities. And if they’re not as social as he is, they might argue a lot. He wants them to try new things, and he wont understand why they wont listen to him. It’s not going to harm them if they go to one dance practice or one soccer game. You’ll have to talk to him about that. If you don’t they’ll just get a lot of unsaid things building up between them. He just wants them to be happy and have something to bond over.

-He will respect any interest or hobby though. They’re not into sports? That’s fine. If they want to practice drawing instead, he’ll happily support them! Anything that makes them happy.

US!Papyrus: The early years went by in a blurr. And he honestly doesn’t remember them all that much. His anxiety made him nervous all the time. And usually he felt like a spring ready to go off. It got better the older they got. Still, with eight goddamned kids you don’t get much rest.

-But he’s the kind of dad who takes one or two of them to McDonalds at 3 am if they happen to be awake at the same time he is. He still has a fling of insomnia. Which he is a little scared might have carried over to them. But he goes on these late night adventures with them a lot. It’s great bonding sessions. Going to a 24/7 Walmart and wandering around. Or maybe taking a drive out to the pier if there is one close by.

-He’s also the kind of dad who lets them try alcohol at home. He figures it’s safer for them to do it while he’s around than out at some party. People could take advantage of them, and he’d rather he knew what they were doing and how much they were drinking. It’s not like he’ll actively get them drunk. But if they want to try some liquor he gives them a little.

-When they first started asking he just bought alcohol free liquor and gave them that. They still do not know that they weren’t actually drunk. But he found it hilarious.

The only thing he really doesn’t want them to try is drugs and smoking. He quit getting high for good when you were pregnant with them. And he stopped smoking for a few years. He took it up again when he figured they were old enough to be okay with him smoking. But he’d never do it within a 50ft radius of them. That’s why teleporting is really handy. He also washes his clothes more often. Smoke doesn’t stick to him, so he doesn’t reek of it.

SF!Sans: He loves showing them off. And he’s often seen pushing them around in an eight seat stroller. They are his little heirs, and he loves them dearly. And even though eight kids are a lot to take care of, he’s actually doing a great job. He hates taking care of them when they cry at night, and sometimes he wont even wake up even though you try to shake him awake because it’s his turn. He does his best, but putting them to sleep isn’t his strong suit. They somehow end up crying even more.

-He always makes sure to spend time with each and every one as they get older though. Even if it’s just a few minutes during a car drive or out shopping groceries. He listens to their rant. And he’s always on top of the school drama.

-His secret to telling them apart when they were kids were the accessories they wore. Green socks for child number one, pink for number two, blue for three and so on. No one realized this, and they thought he was just the best dad ever. Only you knew his secret. And I mean with eight kids you’re going to need it c’mon.

SF!Papyrus: He works himself to death so that you wont get overwhelmed with the situation. He’d raise them all while working a full time job if he could. Just so that you wouldn’t have to. But he’s not going to shun you away. You’re obviously the better parent. Out of all the skellies he’s the one who looks after you the most. The others still make sure you’re okay, but he’s always been very protective of you.

-If anyone ever messes with one of his kids, they’re gonna regret it. And if there’s a bully in their school, he’ll take care of the problem. Have a little chat with them when they’re on their way home. Nothing too threatening, they’re just a kid even though they’re a brat. But that kid isn’t going to ever bother anyone again.

-Like Swap Papyrus he quit smoking when they were born, but took it up after a few years. He needs the coping mechanism.

-He is the best at putting them to sleep. His voice is very calming, so he’ll always read them a story and it knocks them out in a few minutes. He does all the voices without exaggerating them too much. And every time one wakes up from a nightmare, he’s there before they even cry out for him. Quiet and calm, he’ll sit on the edge of their bed. Rubbing their back to comfort them. He’s not a fan of your own bed getting crowded by the kids. But if someone has a particularly bad nightmare, he’ll lift them in and have them sleep between him and you. He’s a quiet dad and sometimes stern. But they all love him.

Chicken Noodle Soup

Requested By: Both Anonymous

Hey :) How about a Peter X Tony sickfic ?☺️ That would be wonderful xxx

Helluu, a fanfiction where tony stark is sick and Peter cares about him. That’ll be great💚💙💜

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader x Tony Stark (Dad goals af)

Description: Where Tony gets sick and Peter takes care of him with an endless amount of Chicken Noodle Soup.

Warnings: It’s really cute, slight swearing, and Tony is dad goals to Peter but we already knew that !!!

Word Count: 2,196

A/N: I hope you don’t mind, I added the reader into this also because I though it made the story flow a lot better and it was easier to write it that way :)) So therefore, I kinda changed the request up a bit, but it’s still so funny. Enjoy!

Originally posted by hardyness

Incoming Call From: Y/N

“Shit, nononono end call, end call.” Peter whisper yelled, but he was too late, up on the screen came Y/N, and beside her was Tony.

“Mr. Parker!” Tony spoke casually, taking his glasses off nonchalantly, as you sat next to him.

“Sorry Peter, he took my phone since you wouldn’t answer his call.” You shrugged, picking at your nail polish as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Yes, next time, answer my call. Anyways I needed to talk to you.” Tony coughed, making you scoot away from him as Peter was cautiously looking around him.

The boat soon blew its horn, making Tony’s eyes widen and his eyebrows raise in curiosity.

“What was that? Where are you?” Tony questioned skeptically, making Peter nervously swallow as he glanced around and saw the bad guys meeting.

“I-I’m at band practice.” Peter nervously responded, but Tony wasn’t having it.

“That’s strange, Happy told me you quit band practice two weeks ago..” He trailed off, looking into the screen as Peter’s eyes widened.

“Yeah well, I gotta go, end call!” Peter shouted, before flying off the side and interrupting the bad guys meeting.

“Hey guys, am I late?” He asked casually, as the bad guys whipped their guns out to shoot him.

You on the other hand were stuck in the car with an angry Tony Stark, making you groan.

“He’s doing some stupid shit isn’t he?” You asked, making Tony nod his head and instantly call someone on his phone.

“Like usual, I’ll probably have to fix his mess.” Tony groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Not to be rude or anything Mr. Stark, but you aren’t looking so good, are you okay?” You questioned, noticing how pale he had gotten and how he was starting to sweat a little bit.

“I think I’m coming down with something, Cap probably gave me it knowing him.” Tony rolled his eyes, as you did your best to hide your laugh.

You both soon arrived back at the Avengers compound, Tony flying off to save Peter’s ass like usual.

You on the other hand were watching the news, seeing a boat had been cut in half and was sinking in the middle of the ocean, and sure enough there was Peter, trying to save the day, before Tony flew in, fixing the ship.

He was so dead.

You eventually went to bed, you heard them both arrive late in the morning, around three am, Peter was being scolded by Tony, probably for the millionth time.

You decided to find out more in the morning.

Bright light soon shone through your window, making you cover your eyes before you forcefully made yourself get out of bed, going to get your morning cup of tea.

You spotted Peter sitting at the table, a distraught look on his face as he pushed his food around on his plate.

“Morning Spidey.” You smiled, making his head snap up at your voice, his eyes narrowing at you.

“It’s Peter, you know that.” He muttered, making you roll your eyes slightly, someone was in a mood.

“You know, if you want to be in a bitchy mood, you can go somewhere else.” You suggested, putting the tea bag in the hot water.

Peter groaned, covering his face before letting out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that.” He glanced over at you, as you gave a slight nod in response.

“I know, I saw what happened, but just because it did, doesn’t mean you should take your frustration and anger out on others alright?” You sat down at the table, pressing your spoon against the tea bag.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, I’m just annoyed that Mr. Stark doesn’t trust me enough. He took my suit.” Peter sighed sadly, as you listened carefully.

“Well, you’re still great without it Peter, we all know that, I’m positive Tony knows that too.” You hummed, taking a sip of your tea, which was delicious by the way.

“I know something you can do, to make up for what you did, it’s not going to fix things instantly, but it should help bump you up.” You offered, making his face light up a bit.

“Tony is sick, and I have to leave, therefore, that leaves you, I bet if you help take care of him, you’ll work some magic.” You smiled, motioning towards the cans of soup.

Peter nodded, getting up and looking at all the different types of soup.

“Since that’s settled, I gotta go, see ya later.” You waved, before exiting to your room, and getting ready.

Peter on the other hand was still looking over all the soups, there were so many choices, and he had no clue which soup Tony liked.

He eventually decided on Chicken Noodle Soup, one of his favorites that his Aunt May would make him when he was sick.

He put it in a bowl, heating it up, before putting it on a tray with a glass of orange juice, before walking to Tony’s room.

He hesitantly knocked on the door, hearing a ’come in!’ before he entered, seeing Tony laying in bed, tissues scattering the area.

“Parker, what are you doing here?” Tony wheezed out, before coughing and groaning.

“I brought you some soup, y-you know to help you f-feel better.” He responded nervously, wanting this to be a start to a recovery.

“Oh, thank you.” Tony replied, sitting up as Peter placed the tray in his lap.

“It’s Chicken Noodle.” Peter smiled, proud of himself as Tony gave an approval nod as he ate the soup.

“Thank you Parker, this was really generous of you.” Tony smiled slightly, before laying back down.

“Everyone kinda left, so I’ll be here if you need anything.” Peter offered, as Tony nodded, before exiting the room.

As Peter walked down the hallway, he gave fist bump to the air, it was already working.

A few hours passed and Peter had given Tony some medicine, some more orange juice, and lots of Chicken Noodle Soup.

Peter was now in the kitchen once again, making another can of Chicken Noodle Soup, a grin on his face.

In a way, Tony was a father figure to him, he was someone that actually saw something in him, and it meant a lot.

Therefore, all the soup making and orange juice giving, it was like he was taking care of his own dad, something he never thought he’d ever do in his life.

“Knock knock!” Peter spoke through the door, as Tony allowed him in.

“Parker, let me guess, Chicken Noodle Soup?” Tony rolled his eyes playfully, a small grin on his face as Peter laughed, handing him the tray once again.

“How’d you know? It’s the special soup of the day!” Peter joked, making Tony laugh slightly.

Although Peter had made a lot of destruction in the past twenty-four hours, Tony was glad Peter was there to help take care of him, sure there was a lot of soup, like A LOT, but Peter was willing to look past everything, and so was Tony.

“You know, kid, I really appreciate you doing this, you didn’t have to.” Tony spoke up before Peter left, making him stop dead in his tracks.

“I know, but, I mean, you mean, you know?” Peter stammered, unable to find the right words, making Tony nod in understanding.

“I know.” Tony smiled, making Peter smile back before leaving his room, the smile never leaving his face.

Tony on the other hand, was having his sixth can of Chicken Noodle Soup, secretly praying he’d be feeling better tomorrow before he became a Chicken Noodle himself.

Eventually everyone returned back to the compound, checking in on Tony, before heading to bed.

Peter did the same, but not before giving Tony some orange juice, then heading to bed.

The night went by fairly quick, surprising Peter as he woke up to the smell of bacon cooking.

He stumbled out of bed, seeing Tony cooking breakfast, something that he wasn’t used to.

“Mr. Stark, you’re feeling better.” Peter spoke, as Tony gave a small smile, nodding at him.

“Indeed I am, please, sit.” He motioned to the table, where Peter sat down, unsure of what was happening.

“You know, being sick, I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’ve decided to give you your suit back, I know you were just doing what you thought was right, and when I was your age, I would of done the same thing.” Tony explained as Peter listened intently, playing with his fingers anxiously.

“Thank you Mr. Stark, I won’t let you down again, I promise.” Peter swore, making Tony chuckle as he put some food down on a plate and gave it to Peter, who was a bit shocked.

“I know you won’t, eat up kid, big day ahead of us.” Tony winked, making Peter’s smile widen, before he dove into the breakfast, which was amazing.

Tony soon left the kitchen, going to get ready himself, as Peter sat there eating his food, his heart racing with excitement.

He got his suit back, Tony wasn’t disappointed in him, he was proud of him.

“Hey Spidey, or should I say Peter?” You asked, walking into the kitchen, starling Peter, before a smile broke out on his face.

“Hey Y/N, your plan worked by the way, so thank you.” Peter smiled, making you grin, nodding in approval.

“I told you it would, Tony is a sucker for soup.” You laughed, once again making your cup of tea before joining Peter at the table.

“So you got the suit back?” You questioned, sipping your tea as Peter nodded in response.

“Yeah, I think I’m going on a mission in a few, Mr. Stark even made me breakfast.” Peter grinned, bragging to you, making you laugh slightly.

“Congratulations, you must feel very special.” You teased, making him blush slightly.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice every time I see you, you’re drinking tea?” He commented, making you raise your eyebrows slightly.

“Sore throat, helps ease it.” You responded vaguely, watching Peter carefully as he processed what you said, his eyes widening.

“Oh my god, you’re sick! You’re the guilty one!” Peter whisper shouted, a smile on his face as you sipped your tea again.

“Shhh he doesn’t need to know.” You laughed, as Peter laughed with you, however Tony soon found out it was you and not Cap.

“Hey Y/N, I have someone that wants to see you!” Tony smiled wickedly, making your eyebrows raise slightly, you weren’t allowed to leave your room now since he’d discovered you were the one that had gotten him sick.

Therefore, this was Tony’s punishment to you.

“THe SoUP oF ThE DaY iS ChIcKEN NoOdLE!”

anonymous asked:

Prompt fic: what if Mulder's rise from depression pre-revival is due to another woman who helped him? I'm on angst phase and I need it...

Hi anon. I’m not sure this is what you wanted, but the whole thing got away from me. In length and just about everything. Set pre-revival. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

With shaky hands Mulder adjusts his sunglasses. The dark shades provide him with a sense of deceptive safety as he steps inside the coffee shop. A small bell over the door announces his entrance but no one seems to notice or care. Straightening his back, Mulder makes his way over to the counter. 

“Hi, how can I help you?“ The barista’s smile is sweet, her voice is sugar. Mulder blinks, realizes she can’t even see his eyes. 

"Tall coffee,” he mumbles, “black, please.” Four words he practiced on his way here. They roll off his tongue uneasily as if they were a strange language he doesn’t speak. 

“Here you go, Sir.” The young barista hands him his coffee and Mulder thanks her with a small nod of his head. The coffee is deliciously hot as he takes a sip, sitting down. It’s quiet here in this small town, but for someone who has been by himself, holed up in an unremarkable house in the middle of nowhere, it sounds like New York City during rush hour.

“The sun doesn’t shine in here, you know.” Mulder turns towards the voice. A woman, hips on her hands, tells him, her voice a challenge. 

“My eyes.” Mulder croaks out, his voice still warming up.

“What’s wrong with them?" She sits down at his table, uninvited, cradling her own coffee. 

"Are you an eye specialist?” When she laughs Mulder is reminded of bells; not like the one over the door. A soft sound, melodic and smooth. 

“No. I’m a school teacher. I always tell my students not to be rude. Wearing sunglasses inside is considered rude.” She takes a sip of her coffee and eyes him over the rim of her cup. Mulder feels the weight of the glasses on his nose. His hands still shaking, he takes them off. The light hits him in the face and he squints, grimaces. A moment later he opens his eyes, sees the woman still sitting there, grinning at him. 

“See? You’ve got nice eyes, Mr. Sunglasses. I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new in town or just visiting?" Years ago, when Scully took him out of the house for the first time in years, she told him to squeeze his hand whenever he felt uncomfortable. ‘I’m with you, Mulder’, she’d told him, ‘always remember that’. The muscles in his hand remember now, make him squeeze his coffee tightly. It’s been years since he’s been out, with Scully or by himself. She always asked him, up until the very end, and he shook his head, not looking at her, telling her to leave him there by himself. Have fun without him. He doesn’t know if she ever did have fun.

"I’m Elise,” the woman, either worse at reading social cues than he is, or simply not caring, goes on, “I moved here a couple of months ago from Chicago. You looked like someone who might understand.”

“Fox.” He says and her eyebrows shoot up. This woman looks nothing like Scully with her tall height, her long blond hair and dark eyes, but Mulder can’t help but think of all the times her eyebrows did the same in their regular 'you can’t be serious, Mulder’ manner. “That’s my name. Fox.”

“Your parents must have an interesting sense of humor, Fox.” She laughs again, the same gentle sound as earlier. Mulder has no idea who she is, this Elise, but for the first time in months he feels like the invisible hands around his throat loosen up. He feels like he can breathe, think. Mulder stares into this woman’s eyes and finds he doesn’t want to flee after all.

“It could have been worse” he says taking a sip from his own coffee, the taste deep and dark, calling him back to life, “they could have named me Kevin.” Elise laughs again, loud and free. Mulder flinches, recovers quickly. Amazed, he watches her, listens to the sounds she makes. For the next five minutes he doesn’t think about Scully, doesn’t think about darkness.

They meet again. And again and again. Mulder goes to bed at night, his heart fluttering just a tiny bit stronger, knowing that the next morning he gets to see Elise. These days he has a strict schedule. There is a time to get up, have breakfast, take his meds, go to the coffee shop. Scully would be proud of him. She is. She left a message on his machine yesterday; they’re always missing each other these days, their schedules no longer in sync. Her words quick, the sound of the hospital echoing behind her, she told him that she’s happy he’s working on getting better. Mulder smiled all through her message, imaging her in her oversized scrubs in between patients, thinking of him. He erased the message, no longer clinging to fleeting moments, went to bed and dreamed about Elise. 

Once their conversations turn darker, turn to lost sisters, forgotten children and love doomed, they move on. Move outside to take walks. Move further away to her home.

“Come inside, Fox. Come on.” Elise, Mulder has noticed, smiles a lot. She is younger than he is, even younger than Scully, but not by much. Yet she is the opposite of the both of them. Smiling with the sun, sometimes even brighter, laughing whenever she can. When Mulder is around her, he feels the cloak of despair lift off him, even if just for a moment, as she sprinkles him with her warmth, wraps him in it. She pours him a tea and the scent of hot peppermint fills her small living room.

“Coffee is not good this time of day, Fox,” she tells him, dropping a cube of sugar in her own cup, “so how about a movie tonight?” He drinks his tea as instructed, nods. 

He keeps a diary because his therapist suggested it. His daily writing becomes as much of a routine as his coffees with Elise. Tonight, though, there are no words. His pen is poised on the paper leaving a big, black dot. There is nothing on his mind except the message Scully left him earlier. He came in whistling, and wouldn’t Scully have found that just adorable?, when his machine blinked at him. A smile on his face already, a leftover from another day with Elise, he pressed the button as he untied his shoes. 'Mulder hi,’ there was a pause, a loud rustling, 'just wanted to tell you that I’ll be gone over the weekend in case you,’ another pause, 'wanted to call. I’ll be in Florida with a… a friend. Take care, Mulder. I’ll call you when I get back… bye.’ Mulder, one shoe still on his foot, listened to the message 62 times. That’s when the band snapped, erasing it for forever.

He doesn’t sleep that night. When the sun comes up in the morning, he is still wearing one shoe. He doesn’t shower but manages to swallow his pill with a glass of milk. His eyes burn as he gets on the bus to meet Elise. Her smile fades as soon as she sees him, but Mulder barely registers. His mind is elsewhere, on its way to Florida, to the past. Anywhere but here.

“You all right?” She asks him.

“I’m fine.” He answers and grimaces. Scully, he thinks. Fine like Scully. “Let’s get coffee. Find us a table.” Easy sentences for when he’s overwhelmed. No complications, no commas or dashes. 

Elise eyes him carefully, and he realizes he doesn’t know her well enough to read her expression. He hands her the coffee and she takes a sip, groans.

“What is this, Fox?”

“Your coffee.” He answers simply, drinking his own. Hot, black and bitter. Perfect. 

“That’s not my coffee. Did they get your order wrong? Here try it. I’m getting a new one.” Mulder watches her approach the counter and sips her coffee. The taste on his tongue is familiar; he ordered Scully’s favorite coffee. Elise comes back, mishap forgotten and smiling, and Mulder thinks he is going to be sick.

He lets Elise take him home with her. She asks if he wants a tea, but he declines. He is restless. He wants to fly to Florida, find Scully, talk to her. Meet her friend. Friend. What does she call Mulder these days, he wonders. Her ex. Ex what? Her friend might ask. Ex-partner, ex-friend, ex-lover. Just an ex. 

“You’re quiet today, Fox.” Elise touches his arm and it feels gentle, comforting. Mulder restrains himself from pushing her away. 

“Nothing to say.”

“Did anything happen? I’m here if you want to talk.”

“You’re not my fucking therapist.” His voice is even, almost indifferent. Elise jumps off the couch as if he’s just hit her. “I’m sorry, Elise.” He says loudly into the empty room. She returns a moment later, her eyes red-rimmed. 

“I’m trying to be your friend, Fox. I don’t want to be your therapist.” She kneels in front of him and takes his face into her hands. Her breath tickles his lips, his nose before her face moves closer and her lips open before she is even there. Friend, it blinks in his mind. 

Mulder closes his eyes as his mind replays Scully’s message. Gone away. With a friend. A friend, a friend, a friend. Elise’s lips land on his, don’t fit right and she moves against him trying to make them fit. Scully, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t do this. He can’t have a friend, a girlfriend, a lover or a meaningless fuck. If he can’t have Scully, he doesn’t want anything else.

'I need you to get better for yourself, Mulder. Not for me. Not out of some misguided sense of guilt. For you.’ Her words, said right before she left him all this time ago, override her answering machine message in his mind.

“Elise, I can’t.” Mulder gently pushes her away. He licks his lips, tastes her, and wishes she were someone else.

“I thought… I thought this, us, was leading somewhere." 

"Elise, listen," 

"Don’t even start, Fox. I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Please listen to me, Elise. I can’t give you this because I am in love with someone else. She is the love of my life. She is everything. She is the reason I forced myself to get out of the house one morning because she told me I had to get better. And you know what, Elise? That’s when I met you. I have been better ever since I’ve met you. I see it now and it’s because of you. You showed me that there is still light in this world filtering through the dark clouds. Last night I spiraled. She called me to tell me she was going on a trip with a friend. I freaked out. I haven’t freaked out in months, Elise. I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t care. I do now. I care.” She sniffs, gives a short laugh, and Mulder chimes in. His own laughter sounds strange, almost hollow in his ears. As they both erupt in even more giggles and laughter, his laugh finds a melody. It doesn’t quite rhyme with hers, but it’s not supposed to, and it works.

“Thank you, Elise. For bringing the light back into my life.” She doesn’t say a word, but touches his lips; a farewell.

No More Shame

requested  : sorta //  hey could I have a Calum imagine where you both are famous and he is afraid to ask you out but the boys make him? thanks!😊

pairings : calum x reader

warnings : body image, i think thats the only one tbh

words : 1,442

a/n : okay so with this one i had started to just write what i was feeling but decided to turn it into a rec of sorts, i changed somethings so that it could actually be a rec and not just me ranting about whats wrong with our society and the image we as a whole some portray as what we define as beautiful.

p.s : i forgot to mention that y/n was 20 

P.P.S : the ending is shit bc again i never know how to end this shit man lol

{not my gif}


Originally posted by endangeredbodiesnyc

Originally posted by cashtonkinks

Being told that you are ‘worthless’ or ‘you are too big’ or ‘you’re not even pretty’ is never anything anyone ever wants to hear or anything someone should hear, but when the people telling you that are strangers behind a screen that do not know you or anything about you hurts no matter how old you maybe.

Keep reading

Live From New York, It’s Saturday Night!

Title: Live From New York, It’s Saturday Night!

Request: Hi! Can you write an imagine kinda like “I have a crush on you” but for SNL? P.s. I love your write so much!!

Characters: Josh Dun x Reader, Tyler Joseph, Jenna Joseph, Lin-Manuel Miranda

Warnings: None

Originally posted by nbcsnl

Keep reading

Loving You Is Deadly [PT. 3]

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Premise: Gang!AU, you are a member of their rival gang.

Word count/genre: 1262 / angst

[PROLOGUE] [MASTERLIST]

WARNING: THIS SERIES CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DRUGS, ALCOHOL, KIDNAPPING, MURDER, AND GORE.

Originally posted by donnnalynne

Keep reading

7

And here we have the well established nerd characters. Glasses, bad teeth, freckles, and and all. Some of them are only seen once (meaning all the kids in the top row). The only things we know about these kids are that they’re frequently picked on, and one of them is friendly with Tucker.

The only ones with names are Mikey and Nathan/Lester, and I’ve dubbed the band kid Tommy. The three kids in the last screenshot (I’ll call them the Vulkins) are only established as geeks/nerds in the last episode, so they’re kind of separate.

Since I can’t say a whole lot about the kids on the top row, I’ll just go through Mikey, Tommy, Nathan/Lester, and the Vulkins.

Keep reading

Dreaming of the last time that you said you wanted to dance

When Eddie gets home from a long day, Richie can just tell. He’ll put on one of Eddie’s favorite songs and sweep the smaller boy into his arms without having to say a single word.

They’ll sway to the soft sounds, Eddie’s face buried in the warmth of Richie’s neck. It feels like home.

No you don’t ask me anymore.

The hard days continue, but the dancing stops.

Maybe you’re just tired when you get home from work

Richie starts working longer nights when he picks up a second job. They need the money to keep living in this city.  Eddie wishes they didn’t. He hates the way this place makes him feel. Claustrophobic but alone at the same time.

Richie thrives here though. All his friends, his band, his fans are there. Eddie would never ask him to leave behind the people that finally bring life to the taller boy’s eyes.

He used to look at him with those eyes.

or maybe you’d rather be dancing with someone else

Eddie can feel something’s off, but he can’t put his finger on it. Richie doesn’t smile as often. Talks less. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like to run his hands through that soft curly hair.

He wants to know what’s wrong, but doesn’t know how to ask. Just ask.

Every time he calls you I can hear a change in your breath

The band is getting more popular and Eddie is so proud. Richie apologizes for all the late nights of practice but Eddie understands.

“Will you be at the show tonight?”

Eddie hates those places, the loud people so close he can barely breath, but he loves watching Richie. He wishes he could get past the suffocating feeling.

“Of course.”

The band’s guitarist comes to pick Richie up. Richie could drive, why doesn’t he?

your voice is hushed and controlled, maybe you’re just tired of straining your throat or maybe there’s something you don’t want me to hear

Eddie stands outside of the clubs doors, pulling at his hair. People walk past him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Just take the steps Eddie. It’s not hard. Push open the doors, do it.

He curses himself on the walk home, the music fading in the background with the more distance he gets.

you won’t get off that easy, no don’t say you love me, when you know you don’t.

By the way Richie holds him that night, he doesn’t seem to be upset.

They haven’t been like this in a long time, bodies pressed together, sheets thrown about.

Eddie missed this feeling, the taste, the sounds Richie makes.

If you’re thinking that we’re through, I won’t hold it against you, you know I won’t.

He pushes back the nagging feeling that something is different.

Richie is touching him like he wants to remember. He wants to engrave this moment into his memory.

Why would he have to remember?

Every other morning I wake up and find that you’re gone. The note says you went for a jog.

Richie doesn’t like to jog.

They both know this, he isn’t even trying.

Maybe you’re just tired of sleeping in or maybe you’d rather be running away.

Eddie waits up for him though, he always will.

When he hears the shuffling of locks and another voice, he wipes the tears from his eyes. He wishes that Richie didn’t look so surprised to see him there, that stupid guy trailing close behind him.

“I thought you had work.”

“I didn’t go.”

“Oh.”

Every time you kiss me I can hear the Gods call my name, yeah I feel pretty for once

This night is more intense than the other. Pushing each other against walls, fighting with clothes.

Eddie almost forgot what if felt like to be kissed like this. This was passion.

“I love you.”

Eddie will always remember the pause Richie takes before he says the words back.

but I can feel the weight of your heart, and it’s making me more tired every day.

Sometime’s people just drift apart. Eddie wishes it wasn’t true.

He isn’t surprised when Richie tells him that they need to talk. He wishes he was.

“Is there someone else?” He wants there to be, maybe it would make things easier. If there isn’t then the only reason that Richie is leaving is because of him. If there’s no one else, it has to be him.

“No.” Richie’s answers are short. He sounds like he’s trying not to cry. This isn’t fair. Eddie’s the one who should be crying, not Richie.

Eddie is crying.

“Eddie…I’’ll always love you.” He never thought he would miss the nicknames.

“Don’t lie like that.”

You won’t get off that easy, no don’t say you love me when you know you don’t.

Eddie let’s Richie have the apartment. Why would he stay here? There was nothing left for him in this city.

It would just be harder to move on. He almost doesn’t want to. He wants to hold this man forever.

Richie hugs him when he’s standing outside of his packed car. He shouldn’t be allowed to do this.

Both of them almost don’t let go.

But they do.

If you’re thinking that we’re through, I won’t hold it against you, you know I won’t

weallhaveouruniqueobsessions  asked:

Prompt: Steve finally works up the courage to ask the man he loves to marry him in an unconventional but romantic way. The day before their wedding, a tragic event takes Sam away from Steve.

💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: I just got a delivery of cookies
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: What kind of weird ass gesture of love is this steve
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: ITS 2:51AM
Steve Rogers: I knew you’d be up!
Steve Rogers: Happy Birthday Sam!
Steve Rogers: ❤️🎁🎂🎈
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: Steve…….
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: Are you tryin to kill me?
Steve Rogers: What?
💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: I’m allergic to macadamia nuts

Steve almost dropped his phone, gasped so loud he could have been a damsel in distress in a B horror film, and slapped his hand over his mouth. He called Sam.

Sam laughed as he picked up. “You’re so gullible, man! I told you two days ago macadamia nut cookies are my favorite.”

“Sam, don’t do that.”

“What? Fragile old man heart can’t take a joke?”

“Don’t get started with that. Just because you’re Captain America doesn’t mean you can call me old.”

Sam snorted and Steve imagined Sam dropping his head with that smile on his face like he was a little embarrassed. Steve’s chest swelled with a mix of adoration and that pang of pain when you miss somebody even though they’ve only been gone a couple days.

“I love you, Steve,” came Sam’s voice from the other end, as if reading his thoughts.

Steve shut his eyes, let out and inaudible sigh, and looked up at the ceiling of his apartment. “I love you too.” They said it the most when they were apart.

“Hey, I better g–” Sam said.

“Sam, when you get back–” Steve said at the same time.

“What?”

“Do you wanna get married?”

Yes.”

There’s not even a second of hesitation, and the way Sam’s voice so emphatically replied sent a chill down Steve’s spine. He felt hot and cold all at once, and a big stupid grin crossed his face.

“I really do, Steve. We’ll talk more later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Save a cookie for me. Bye, Sam.”

Keep reading

You were right

Thanks to @mcnamedstephanie for providing ideas and helping all around. You’re the best.

Note: MC x Kaitlyn. MC = Arissa. Takes place after the events of The Sophomore, Book 1, Chapter 8. How is Kaitlyn doing after a rough encounter with Natasha and her new (terrible, lol) band?


After finishing her review, Arissa heads for Kaitlyn’s room to see how she’s doing. She places her forehead against the door, apprehensive of the state she might find her in.

I hope she isn’t letting this bring her down too much, she thinks to herself, eyes closed, almost as if she were praying.

Arissa lets out a weak calling, “Hey, Kaitlyn?”

“Yeah, come in,” she responds quickly, in an unexpectedly upbeat manner, which is a pleasant surprise for Arissa.

She opens the door to find Kaitlyn at her desk, writing. She turns around briefly to see Arissa, giving her a smile filled with assurance.

“Well, I was gonna ask how you were holding up but I guess I have my answer.”
“Mm-hm. I was actually about to come talk to you about how you were right, but…I thought of a great idea for a song.”

“Oh, cool, well I’d love to hear about it…that is of course after you elaborate for me. You said, erm, I was right?” asks Arissa with a playfully sarcastic tone.

“Don’t flatter yourself. But yeah, you were right, for sure…about not letting Natasha get under my skin. I thought about it right after coming home. I was letting Natasha blind me from what this whole thing is actually about, you know? I’m doing something I love. Pursuing my passion of music. I’m not about to let some stuck-up jerk bring me down. And you know what? So what if Loose Pins wins the Battle of the Bands. Even then, I won’t falter. It’s not about being better or worse. It’s about doing what I love. You taught me that. And I know I’ll always have you there by my side.”

“Aww, Kaitlyn…that makes me so happy.” Arissa tears up a bit. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“My number one fan…” Kaitlyn stands up to meet Arissa eye to eye, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving me a little time to see the truth. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Kaitlyn pulls apart from Arissa’s embrace. “Okay, so, now I can tell you about my new song idea.”

“Shoot.”

“Actually, you pretty much just heard it. It’s all about doing what you love, for the right reasons.”

“Aww that sounds nice. And if it’s anything like what you just said I’m sure it’s incredible. No doubt.”

Kaitlyn fills Arissa in on the lyrics she has written so far, half-heartedly singing them while working something up on her guitar.

Arissa asserts, “I love it. It’s got a really sweet message. I can’t wait to see how it ends up sounding all together.”

“Thanks, babe. That really means a lot,” Kaitlyn responds, giving her a quick kiss.

“Oh yeah, have you seen my sweater? The green one?”

“Umm, nope, sorry.”

“Damnit, I don’t know where it could be. I’ve checked my room, the house, and everywhere on campus and in town that I can remember being at.”

“Hmmm…well, we could…go shopping. We could find you an even better sweater and I could use some new clothes to spice up my performance look.”
“I like that idea, Kaitlyn. It’d be nice to have some time together.”


The two make their way to their favorite clothing store. Pretty soon after some brisk and breezy browsing, Arissa and Kaitlyn are up to no good inside a dressing room, clothing being shed all over the floor, as they try on a nice, cashmere sweater, purple this time, and some suitably grunge-looking apparel, respectively.

Arissa presses against Kaitlyn’s chest, gently backing her against the wall, the heavenly soft texture of her sweater melding with the coarser feel of Kaitlyn’s denim jacket.

Kaitlyn slides her hands smoothly along Arissa’s back, then rests her head on her shoulder. She nuzzles the sweater with her nose, “Mmmm, this makes me wanna rethink the whole punk outfit standard.”
“Haha.” Arissa takes in the scent of her shampoo; so good.

“I’ll just have to make sure I get my soft sweater-wearing girlfriend all to myself right after our gigs.”

“Only if you take off the spikes!”

“Oh-no, we’re splitting our pain and pleasure,” Kaitlyn jokingly retorts.

“If you insist,” Arissa surrenders before proposing, “Dinner and a movie?”

“Just the two of us?” Kaitlyn asks, coyly.

“No, I was thinking of inviting Becca along,” Arissa responds sarcastically.

“Shut up, I was just making sure.” Kaitlyn lightheartedly pushes Arissa’s shoulder, smiling.