so the 'i loved you' were his own feelings reflected from her

Rick Riordan won a Stonewall award today

for his second Magnus Chase book, due to the inclusion of the character Alex Fierro who is gender fluid. This was the speech he gave, and it really distills why I love this author and his works so much, and why I will always recommend his works to anyone and everyone.

“Thank you for inviting me here today. As I told the Stonewall Award Committee, this is an honor both humbling and unexpected.

So, what is an old cis straight white male doing up here? Where did I get the nerve to write Alex Fierro, a transgender, gender fluid child of Loki in The Hammer of Thor, and why should I get cookies for that?

These are all fair and valid questions, which I have been asking myself a lot.

I think, to support young LGBTQ readers, the most important thing publishing can do is to publish and promote more stories by LGBTQ authors, authentic experiences by authentic voices. We have to keep pushing for this. The Stonewall committee’s work is a critical part of that effort. I can only accept the Stonewall Award in the sense that I accept a call to action – firstly, to do more myself to read and promote books by LGBTQ authors.

But also, it’s a call to do better in my own writing. As one of my genderqueer readers told me recently, “Hey, thanks for Alex. You didn’t do a terrible job!” I thought: Yes! Not doing a terrible job was my goal!

As important as it is to offer authentic voices and empower authors and role models from within LGBTQ community, it’s is also important that LGBTQ kids see themselves reflected and valued in the larger world of mass media, including my books. I know this because my non-heteronormative readers tell me so. They actively lobby to see characters like themselves in my books. They like the universe I’ve created. They want to be part of it. They deserve that opportunity. It’s important that I, as a mainstream author, say, “I see you. You matter. Your life experience may not be like mine, but it is no less valid and no less real. I will do whatever I can to understand and accurately include you in my stories, in my world. I will not erase you.”

People all over the political spectrum often ask me, “Why can’t you just stay silent on these issues? Just don’t include LGBTQ material and everybody will be happy.” This assumes that silence is the natural neutral position. But silence is not neutral. It’s an active choice. Silence is great when you are listening. Silence is not so great when you are using it to ignore or exclude.

But that’s all macro, ‘big picture’ stuff. Yes, I think the principles are important. Yes, in the abstract, I feel an obligation to write the world as I see it: beautiful because of its variations. Where I can’t draw on personal experience, I listen, I read a lot – in particular I want to credit Beyond Magenta and Gender Outlaws for helping me understand more about the perspective of my character Alex Fierro – and I trust that much of the human experience is universal. You can’t go too far wrong if you use empathy as your lens. But the reason I wrote Alex Fierro, or Nico di Angelo, or any of my characters, is much more personal.

I was a teacher for many years, in public and private school, California and Texas. During those years, I taught all kinds of kids. I want them all to know that I see them. They matter. I write characters to honor my students, and to make up for what I wished I could have done for them in the classroom.

I think about my former student Adrian (a pseudonym), back in the 90s in San Francisco. Adrian used the pronouns he and him, so I will call him that, but I suspect Adrian might have had more freedom and more options as to how he self-identified in school were he growing up today. His peers, his teachers, his family all understood that Adrian was female, despite his birth designation. Since kindergarten, he had self-selected to be among the girls – socially, athletically, academically. He was one of our girls. And although he got support and acceptance at the school, I don’t know that I helped him as much as I could, or that I tried to understand his needs and his journey. At that time in my life, I didn’t have the experience, the vocabulary, or frankly the emotional capacity to have that conversation. When we broke into social skills groups, for instance, boys apart from girls, he came into my group with the boys, I think because he felt it was required, but I feel like I missed the opportunity to sit with him and ask him what he wanted. And to assure him it was okay, whichever choice he made. I learned more from Adrian than I taught him. Twenty years later, Alex Fierro is for Adrian.

I think about Jane (pseudonym), another one of my students who was a straight cis-female with two fantastic moms. Again, for LGBTQ families, San Francisco was a pretty good place to live in the 90s, but as we know, prejudice has no geographical border. You cannot build a wall high enough to keep it out. I know Jane got flack about her family. I did what I could to support her, but I don’t think I did enough. I remember the day Jane’s drama class was happening in my classroom. The teacher was new – our first African American male teacher, which we were all really excited about – and this was only his third week. I was sitting at my desk, grading papers, while the teacher did a free association exercise. One of his examples was ‘fruit – gay.’ I think he did it because he thought it would be funny to middle schoolers. After the class, I asked to see the teacher one on one. I asked him to be aware of what he was saying and how that might be hurtful. I know. Me, a white guy, lecturing this Black teacher about hurtful words. He got defensive and quit, because he said he could not promise to not use that language again. At the time, I felt like I needed to do something, to stand up especially for Jane and her family. But did I make things better handling it as I did? I think I missed an opportunity to open a dialogue about how different people experience hurtful labels. Emmie and Josephine and their daughter Georgina, the family I introduce in The Dark Prophecy, are for Jane.

I think about Amy, and Mark, and Nicholas … All former students who have come out as gay since I taught them in middle school. All have gone on to have successful careers and happy families. When I taught them, I knew they were different. Their struggles were greater, their perspectives more divergent than some of my other students. I tried to provide a safe space for them, to model respect, but in retrospect I don’t think I supported them as well as I could have, or reached out as much as they might have needed. I was too busy preparing lessons on Shakespeare or adjectives, and not focusing enough on my students’ emotional health. Adjectives were a lot easier for me to reconcile than feelings. Would they have felt comfortable coming out earlier than college or high school if they had found more support in middle school? Would they have wanted to? I don’t know. But I don’t think they felt it was a safe option, which leaves me thinking that I did not do enough for them at that critical middle school time. I do not want any kid to feel alone, invisible, misunderstood. Nico di Angelo is for Amy, and Mark and Nicholas.

I am trying to do more. Percy Jackson started as a way to empower kids, in particular my son, who had learning differences. As my platform grew, I felt obliged to use it to empower all kids who are struggling through middle school for whatever reason. I don’t always do enough. I don’t always get it right. Good intentions are wonderful things, but at the end of a manuscript, the text has to stand on its own. What I meant ceases to matter. Kids just see what I wrote. But I have to keep trying. My kids are counting on me.

So thank you, above all, to my former students who taught me. Alex Fierro is for you.

To you, I pledge myself to do better – to apologize when I screw up, to learn from my mistakes, to be there for LGBTQ youth and make sure they know that in my books, they are included. They matter. I am going to stop talking now, but I promise you I won’t stop listening.”

Ok but can we talk about how the Paladin’s bayards don’t just suit them, but actually ARE them? THE BAYARD PICKS THE PALADIN, MR. POTTER.

The bayards are frankly the coolest metaphorical device happening in this show and I haven’t seen anyone talk about it yet (I’m sure someone has, but I feel like it’s not really… a thing??), and if my major has taught me any(useless)thing it’s to get stuck on functional motifs in storytelling so

Keith

I mean this is just fun. You’re probably not surprised that he gets the big blade because he’s main-character-red and the emo/possibly-Asian-one, but let’s consider a few things: 

The fact that it’s sharp on both sides acts as a physical reminder of the duality happening within his character (he cuts others down, but internally he’s cutting himself down just as much: a double-edged sword). 

Furthermore, that double edge reminds us that it’s a loner’s weapon: he needs to be able to attack with each swing, in any direction, because no one’s coming to back him up. It may be space, but dude is clearly rockin’ the lone wolf/samurai vibe. The length backs that up a bit as well–it keeps everyone he sees as an ‘enemy’ or a ‘rival’ at a distance (//side-eye @ lance). 

What’s even more interesting is that if you look at Keith’s relationship with his bayard compared to his Marmora blade, they represent his hidden and public selves: who people see him as/expect him to be vs. who he truly is and wants to be (is afraid to be) himself. 

Most people only see his bayard, a classic warrior/knight weapon that represents strength and grace and leadership. Keith brings this out in battle, in front of his friends, before enemies, etc. But when he’s alone at night or when he’s holed up in the desert, the blade on his mind and in his hand is his Marmora dagger. Despite being a secret for so long, it is actually this blade (and not the bayard he got from Voltron) which Keith always keeps close to him (and which he keeps strictly concealed). 

He covers up the mark on the hilt as if to cover his own hidden thoughts and feelings (and maybe even dubious past). In public, he feels he can proudly show his bayard but doesn’t want anyone to know he has the dagger, even before he himself knows what it might mean. 

Even more interestingly, this blade also represents close combat–letting people get close to you–and the desire to protect others, showing that these are things Keith thinks about, feels, and even wants, but is afraid to show to those around him. What’s more, while the obvious skills and general cool-dude-ness associated with the bayard are something Keith has earned/achieved by his own merit, the Marmora dagger (and all the things it represents) were something he was born with; something inherently part of him. Ironically, once Keith learns more about his dagger and what it represents, it becomes longer–it adds distance, just as the truth about his past puts distance between him and the other paladins.

Like, I could literally (gladly) write an entire essay just on the symbolism of how Keith treats these blades, but you get the idea. 

I was gonna do Shiro next but his is even sadder than Keith’s so let’s do

Pidge

So some things about this are obvious: it bears a (kind of adorable similarity) in shape to her head. It’s small, she’s small, but if you underestimate either of them you will be sorry. It’s an incredibly quick/nimble weapon (a great parallel for her stinging wit). Her bayard is designed for quick, surgically precise movements, which is exactly how Pidge works (both mentally and metaphorically).

However, while it has great attack capabilities, that’s clearly not the bayard’s (or Pidge’s) main purpose; it’s a necessary consequence in the pursuit of other goals. Rather, the transformative and flexible uses of Pidge’s bayard emphasize the desire to be useful and to solve problems over attacking. This is belied by the fact that Pidge forms Voltron’s shield. Pidge would much rather think her way out of/around a problem than charge in head-first

Her bayard is a reflection of that. Pidge’s bayard is also the most technically complicated, which is another great parallel for her mind. Furthermore, the grappling hook function of her bayard echoes her desire to find things out of reach, and cast out into space and bring those things close to her, or herself to them (*cough*MATT*cough*). 

TL;DR: it’s an all-purpose, unassuming weapon meant to perform multiple tasks in an efficient, creative way, and it focuses on problem solving/extraction more than brute attack (though it packs plenty of punch when cornered). And, of course, though she be but little, she is fierce.

Lance

As his swagger (and even his name, like talk about being on the nose) suggests, Lance is totally in-your-face, up-in-your-business blabbermouth who seems pretty simple to understand. So why does he have the weapon that arguably requires the most finesse, patience, and also has a long range? Because that’s what Lance is really like under all that talk. It may seem like Lance lives with the words “are we there yet” on his tongue, but consider this: Lance wanted to be a pilot, but was originally relegated to commercial-class ranks. Did that stop him? Nope. He kept at it until he made it to the top of those ranks (it’s safe to assume that if they only promoted one pilot to fighter-class after Keith’s expulsion, it would be the top of the commercial-class students). That’s more patience than any of the other paladins have shown.

As a gun in a team that has close-combat weapons, Lance’s bayard automatically assumes a supportive role (despite all his talk about beating Keith and being the best), and we see this multiple times throughout the show. His first day as a fighter-class pilot, what does Lance do? Talks to his team and says they should stick together. How does he find out about Shiro? He’s following Pidge and asking about what she’s up to–crazy theories that others wouldn’t care to hear out. There are a lot of other examples of this (notably, when he throws himself in front of Coran), but from the get-go we’re slyly shown that Lance actually cares about and pays attention to those around him (even though he keeps talking about kicking their butts and being #1). It makes sense, then, that his weapon would be one designed to support and provide cover for others. In fact, we see Lance doing exactly this in the first episode when Pidge mouths off and he rushes in to cover for her.

Sadly, as one of the longer-range weapons, Lance’s bayard is also one of the loneliest metaphors in the group, and we see the reason for this just as much in VLD: Lance doesn’t feel appreciated (or sometimes even accepted) by the people around him. He often feels distant, though not by choice. He may shoot (ha) his mouth off a lot, but at the end of the day it’s pretty apparent that this boy craves love and attention, almost as much as he wants to be perceived as a ‘top gun’ (double ha) within the group.

A gun–especially the rapid-fire type that Lance has–further mirrors his tendency to be impulsive (and even impetuous) rather than controlled and thoughtful. On the bright side, though, it is exactly that willingness to pull the trigger that has catapulted the gang forward on a number of occasions.

Shiro

Between Shiro’s arm and his bayard there are so many different things going on here I don’t even know how I can touch on all of them. If I could write an essay on Keith’s weapons, I could write a BOOK on Shiro’s.

First, let’s talk about Shiro’s actual bayard. In Zarkon’s hands, you can read this as a physical extension of Shiro’s freedom, or even as Shiro himself: Zarkon took the bayard–something meant to be used for good–from another world, and then warped it in the hopes of using it to cause destruction. 

The good news is that both Shiro and the bayard escape Zarkon’s clutches because of Voltron, and though Zarkon intended to use them, they instead become the strongest weapons to fight against him. They will always feel the effects of Zarkon’s influence and ownership–the bayard because of Zarkon’s former paladin connections, and Shiro because of his arm and PTSD–but they still fight. In the end, it is Zarkon’s obsession with them as his former ‘possessions’ that becomes his downfall. So deep is his trauma that Shiro actually waits until it looks like they’re about to die (when Voltron is in an electric headlock) to activate his bayard. Why? Because he doesn’t trust his arm, he doesn’t trust his hold on the bayard or the lion (don’t even get me STARTED on how the lion–down it’s right-hand weapon and still somewhat under Zarkon’s control–represents Shiro himself), and as a result he doesn’t trust himself to be stronger than Zarkon. 

Even when Shiro finally gets the bayard back, he doesn’t call it his bayard, or the black bayard; he calls it Zarkon’s bayard (and it looks the part). This can be seen as a mirror for how Shiro sees himself: even though it’s a bayard, Zarkon tainted it, and now it doesn’t belong to him even though it’s rightfully his and he has it in his hands (which, ironically, is still technically Zarkon’s hand… you get the picture).

However, as Keith corrects him (”you’ve got your bayard”), the bayard rejects the changes Zarkon forced upon it, and reverts to a form that matches Shiro and the other paladins (likely how it looked before Zarkon started using it for evil). Just as the paladins healed Shiro by rescuing him and making him part of Voltron, Shiro does the same for the black bayard. Indeed, he only pulls out the power necessary to retrieve the black bayard once he wakes up to find the team fighting to protect him. It might be telling symbolically that Shiro leaves his bayard behind when he goes missing at the end of the season–perhaps he’s won his freedom only to have it taken once again.

 Which leads me to… 

The black bayard could also represent Shiro’s memories: both are known to exist, and we get hints/flashes/teases throughout the show, but both are initially “lost”. Slowly, it is revealed just how both Shiro’s bayard and his memories have been taken/corrupted by Zarkon. We see this in the way Shiro’s memories haunt him, only to frustratingly elude  him when he needs them. When Shiro finally tries to find out more about why Zarkon has the bayard, he’s also facing his own mind–his memories, his insecurities, and his apprehension at what fate awaits him–as well.  In this sense, when Shiro reclaims the black bayard, he is also reclaiming so much more: the hold/fear Zarkon held over him, the insufficiency and anxiety he felt because of it, etc. 

You can also read the bayard as a mirror for Shiro’s arm: Zarkon took Shiro’s arm and replaced it with something Galran. Shiro joins Voltron only to find that Zarkon also has his metaphorical right hand–his weapon. Shiro can’t use the weapon he should be holding (in a hand he doesn’t have because of Zarkon) because Zarkon took it. Talk about a vicious cycle. This symbolism is supported all through season 1 and parts of season 2 where we see Shiro simultaneously struggle with controlling Zarkon’s lasting effects on Voltron and coming to grips (ha) with controlling his arm. It’s hinted–both during battle and through PTSD–that if Shiro doesn’t control his arm, it will control him, just as Zarkon demonstrates that if Shiro can’t reclaim the bayard, Zarkon will use it to kill him (we see a similar parallel with his memories). 

I’m just going to stop here because the black bayard and Shiro’s arm can represent so many different things that it totally distracts me and I can only really do it justice by literally sitting down and writing out a full on dissertation on it.

But TL;DR: Shiro’s arm and his bayard are in a crazy, soap-opera drama with Zarkon on so many different levels and it is symbolistically incredible.

Hunk

Hunk’s bayard, much like Hunk, is pretty straight-forward and simple. Physically, it’s a big weapon. A big, hulking (Hunking????) weapon. It looks incredibly imposing, but its chief function isn’t destruction, but preventing destruction. Just as Hunk likes to avoid violence, his canon is mostly used to disable enemy weapons as part of Voltron, and individually Hunk uses it to provide long-range cover fire for his team (when he tries to use it in a more actively combative role, he just ends up almost shooting Pidge… gg, Hunk). 

Unlike Lance’s more nimble and quick-fire weapon, Hunk’s takes a lot of strength to move around and a long time to power up–this mirrors Hunk’s own well-rooted stance (he’s not easily swayed), and his cautious nature. He doesn’t do things off-the-cuff or on a whim; he thinks them through first. Indeed, it’s almost always Hunk warning the others of the possible outcomes of their proposed escapades. 

He’s also slow to anger, just as his weapon is slow to fire. However, once he has decided to take a shot, his firepower is incredible, just as when he does decide to take action (like with the Balmerans), his will is unstoppable. 

I could go on for days, guys. I have so much stuff I had to cut out because even the hardcorest Voltron fans don’t care about underlying motifs this much, I know, but AGH. GUYS. GUYS. THE BEAUTY??? OF THIS WRITING??? IN A KIDS’ SHOW????? 

Bless.

PS this is long I didn’t proof read it SO SUE ME

Nothing More [ I ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst

Length: 6.8k

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Watching the man you love love someone else was the most painful feeling in the world.

Part Two: Part Three: x   Part Four: x  Alternate Ending: x

Originally posted by progamerbyun

The rain fell just loud enough for you to hear, the skies a beautiful but somber grey and the world feeling otherwise silent. The birds weren’t chirping. The neighborhood seemed empty. It was just you. You and your empty apartment and your thoughts. The all consuming thoughts that made the silence seem so loud. His voice just kept replaying in your head, like the soundtrack to the otherwise quiet moment.

“I think she’s the one.”

Keep reading

Baby Girl (Jungkook/Reader)

Prompt: May I request a Jungkook smut in which you are bf and he has always seen you just as a kid because you’re younger than him. He doesn’t mind being shirtless around you or you hearing him talk about the last night’s girl with a friend. To the point of you getting so frustrated about him not treating you as a woman and plainly thinking of you as his cute and innocent girl friend that one day you start dry humping him saying something along the lines: do I still look that innocent to you (oppa)? thx

Genre: Smut, Slight Angst, Slight Humor, College!Au, Best Friends!Au

Words: 3.5K+

Author: Admin Nan

Summary: It was a boiling summer day you realized your attraction for the cute, older boy next door. 

Tags: Swearing, Dry humping, Thigh riding, Sub!Kook, Oppa, Park Jimin - Reader Discretion is advised.

Originally posted by jeonsshi


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Hey there everyone! WHOO! Finally got a reprieve, as I’m done with my drawings for my final project, now I have to continue typing the written parts.

Done largely in part because I love the lore, practice drawing human characters, and to pass the time whenever I need a breather from from college.

While researching for the lore of Dark Souls for my In-progress AU Comic, I noticed how LARGE the mythology of Dark Souls and the deities that reside, along with the fan speculation of which god corresponds with whom and etc. In spite of all this, from what I can tell, outside of Gwyn’s family, there has never been a, for lack of a better term, “compendium piece” of the gods and goddesses of dark souls, so I made my own :D

Because some gods are not represented in imagery, I decided to design how they might look if they ever showed up amongst mortals. I owe a lot to Tumblr, Reddit and the DS fandom as a whole, the amount of theory and lore discussions are always gold, and of course, the lore-lords like @vaatividya and @silver-mont, their vids are always interesting to watch :)

From the Top Row: The Bearers of the Lord Souls

Gravelord Nito: No need for an explanation here xD

Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight: Drawing him was easy, but here I wanted portray a very stern, no-nonsense god king who really, REALLY is someone you don’t want to piss off, and someone who is almost NEVER happy and/or satisfied.

The Witch of Izalith: I’m honestly surprised there’s not much fanart of how her face might look like, so I pitched in. She basically resembles her daughters, but with a more matriarchal vibe, with a stronger jawline and sharper eyes to reflect that. She’s also very tall, towering over Gwyn and just slightly edging out NK in height.

The Furtive Pygmies, featuring Manus and a Pygmy Lord: With the Ringed City revealing that there were SEVERAL pygmies, I had quite some fun with the speculation and possibilities of how the Pygmies as a whole looked like.

Personally? I simply interpret them as humans but more, with more power over the dark soul, but otherwise having different roles in society like regular folk, the Ringed Knights are Warriors, the Lords are the rulers, etc.

I put Manus amongst them, why? Because no way should ONE man be able to have THAT much abyss power just because he’s a human. Since the dark soul is divided amongst humans, I interpret him having a huge chunk of the Dark Soul (as per these two threads), and thus was simply a mighty sorceror who happened to be really, REALLY old, even by Pygmy standards. Plus I always wondered… How does one torture a dead man? The Mad King was described as undying, so according to my own logic, he wasn’t totally “dead” when he was buried. His grave could signify him wanting a modicum of peace, after all, his entire race was basically put in a glorified prison by Gwyn… Sensing the growing madness within him (probably due to sheer isolation), he probably decided to “die” on his own terms in Oolacile… then future idiots proceeded to listen to TOTALLY NOT SUSPICIOUS AT ALL SERPENT and dug up his grave.

The random Pygmy Lord is basically representing one of the first Pygmy Lords.


Second Row: The Children of the Gods

The Nameless King, Firstborn of Gwyn, God of War: In a short period of time, has become my favorite character amongst the gods… There’s so much of a story to tell from him, his relationship with his family, the reasons as to WHY he betrayed the dragons, and thanks to lore threads a-plenty, I interpret him as one of the most honorable and dedicated of the gods. He watches over his warriors of sunlight even if they ARE humans (whom Gwyn HATES) AND he protects Dragons. Despite meI head-canoning him bigger than Gwyn and is in general a wall of muscle and armor, he’s STILL shorter than his sisters.

Gwynevere, Goddess of Fertility: Gwynevere here I interpret as one of the nicer gods, so I made her expression to reflect such. Because Gwyndolin’s illusion of her may be simply him projecting what he remembers most of her and thus potentially exaggerating certain aspects, I toned down a lot the “Aphrodite-esque” glamor, in favor of a more personable look, though still decked out.

Filianore: The daughter we know even less of than Gwynevere, but thanks to a certain reddit thread that discussed how dedicated NK was to her via the floral carvings that is present in Archdragon peak… She must have been someone who NK was VERY close with, so I interpret her as the “Always trying to bring life to the family” kind of sister, though closest to her eldest brother.

Gwyndolin: The Dark Sun himself. Not much else to say here, I just wanted to draw him happy for once… Because WHY FROM? He really, really needs it.


The Daughters of Chaos

Quelana, Mother of Pyromancy: Due to her own title, I interpret her as the Studious Daughter, incredibly dedicated to her craft and always finding out ways to further her pyromancy… Until the Chaos Flame incident happened of course… Then she became wracked with survivor’s guilt…

I also interpret her as being the responsible one looking out to make sure her sisters don’t do anything too brash… Though in hindsight, that would make her suvivor’s guilt worse.

Quelaag: The most well known Chaos Daughter, and whom I interpret as The Aggressive Daughter, hence why she’s the only one of the sisters with a melee weapon. As the most in-your-face daughter I head-canon that she is the one who lowers down her hood the most, especially when she feels like challenging someone. Also VERY protective of her family.

Quelaan, The Fair Lady: Last but not least, I interpret Quelaan as always having been the shyest and nicest of the daughters. Her hood is more drooped down compared to Quelana, to highlight her shyness.

Fun fact, while trying to find her real name, turns out the name Quelaan was the name the community gave to her, and just became established fanon, so I just opted to name her just that.


Third Row: Other Members of the Larger Pantheon

All-Father Lloyd: Gwyn’s uncle, founder of the Way of White. Now there IS speculation that he’s not real, but here I interpret as the real deal, and thus looks like a wimpier, older version of Gwyn, yet still has an aura of authority. I used a bit of Paladin Leeroy for his crown, because I interpret that, when he REALLY needs to get his hands dirty, he too wields a mace, setting an example to all paladin-esque worshipers after him.

His clothes are tattered despite being the godly equivalent of a pontiff, to highlight two things:

One, despite him being a “lord”, his tattered look is to signify he is not “above” the rabble/his followers.

Two, I head-canon him becoming slowly more insane and full of hate toward the undead,as more and more of his family and friends either dies off or leaving home… He eventually disappears for unknown reasons and becomes forgotten.

Fina, Goddess of Love: The most popular candidate for Gwyn’s wife, or at least his first, I wanted to design her with the Embraced Set in mind, just modified to look more queenly rather than armor. Going by the general fanon, I interpret her as the mother of both NK and Gwynevere, but due to unknown circumstances, just up-and-left. Why? I dunno I haven’t thought that deep :(

Also wanted to try out and giving her a different look, skin-tone and facial wise compared to all the other gods and goddesses out there.

Velka, Goddess of Sin: My favorite goddess, her lore and weaponry associated with her is cool, but even with DS3 and all its DLC, I wish we got to know more of her and how she even became the one to hold the title of “goddess of sin” and how she absolves it. She is also, I noticed in fan-art and fanfic, the other most popular candidate for Gwyn’s wife.

Due to the fact that both Gwyndolin and Filianore are associated with illusions and magic, I interpret her as the mother of Filianore and Gwyndolin. She has sharp features and very pale skin, and share’s Filianore’s dark hair.

For her design, I compared aspects of the Statue of Velka from DS3, and both Oswald of Carim and Cromwell the pardoner. I didn’t want her to strictly dress like Oswald and Cromwell, so I incorporated more feathers to her outfit to give her a more “regal” look, as befitting a goddess, and not just pardoner. Funnily enough, with her book of sins and outfit, she also gives the aura of a medieval judge.

Caitha, Goddess of Tears: The third goddess associated with Carim, and one that I intentionally kept her eyes hidden. Mentioned in both 2 and 3, I want to reflect her constant “mourning” nature, and since ‘Gentle Prayer’ is associated with her chime in DS3, I thought her being in a position of prayer would be most appropriate.

Nahr Alma, God of Blood and Murder: Take Titchy Gren, make him more beast-like in proportion, now make him the size of Father Ariandel with the animalistic agility of the Orphan of Kos or Slave Knight Gael, and you have the God of Blood himself. I interpret him as a kind of god that is shunned by the rest, and is mostly treated as an attack dog, and nothing more. REALLY resents the other gods.

married part 5- h.s imagine

you can read part 4 here

You let out a scream as you ran around in the kitchen. Lucas turned the corner, laughing as he chased you. You panicked as you realized you hit a dead end. Lucas smirked as he inched closer to you. “Where you gonna go now, babe?”

You crossed your arm and gave a pout. “Not fair. You always win.” Lucas gave a chuckle as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer against him. “I won a long time ago.”

Your cheeks blushed as you tilted your head up to connect your lips together with Lucas.

After your birthday last year, you vowed to get over Harry. You couldn’t pine after him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or his marriage. Moving on from Harry was definitely a struggle and occasionally your mind would drift off to see how he was doing. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him because you did. Harry’s made no effort to contact you. You couldn’t blame him though. You knew that if he found out your feelings for him, your friendship would somehow fall apart and sure enough, it did.

You’ve been with Lucas for about three months now. You guys rekindled when you accidentally ran into him at the store. You apologized for never getting back in touch with him after your first date and the rest is history. Lucas was sweet. He was really sweet. Sometimes when you were with him, you didn’t think about Harry.

You pulled away from Lucas as your phone started to ring. Lucas let out a groan as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Ignore it.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your phone from your back pocket. You immediately knew who was calling without even having to look at the caller ID. “Niall’s being a little groomzilla. If I ignore him, I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way to hunt me down.”

Lucas rolled his eyes playfully before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “It’s so hard when everyone wants to take my girl away from me” he joked before leaving you alone to answer the call.

You shook your head as you let out a chuckle before you answered your phone. “What’s wrong now, Niall?”

“The seating arrangement is all wrong!” Niall yelled from the other side, frustration laced in his voice.

You pulled your phone back from your ear, wincing at Niall’s booming voice. “Listen Horan, you better watch your tone with me or I won’t help with the wedding anymore!”

Niall gulped. “I’m sorry. Can you please help with the seating arrangement?” Niall begged into the phone. You smirked as you mentally praised yourself for having Niall wrapped around your finger. “I’ll be over soon.”


Since you and Harry cut ties, you and Niall have become closer. He was your blessing in disguise. You could never thank Niall enough for being there for you when you just really needed a shoulder to cry on. Niall managed to find a girl that was head over heels for him. He was absolutely in love with her. You would like to say you thought Niall marrying someone he’s only known for less than a year was absolutely crazy but you couldn’t. Emma was perfect for Niall. When you first met her, she welcomed you with open arms and you could see how much love Niall had for her. You knew in your heart that they were perfect for each other.

Niall sighed out of relief when he opened the door. His hair was a mess from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it out of frustration. “Niall, I see you’re looking as beautiful as ever.” you chuckled as you stepped into his apartment. You gave a quick hug to Emma who was sitting in the kitchen.

Niall quickly brought out a giant piece of paper. It was like some sort of blue print. It had circles drawn on it to represent the tables, a square to represent the dance floor, a rectangle to represent where the DJ was gonna be. It was the nightmare of every wedding. Niall sighed as he placed the paper in front of you. “We need your help deciding where to put who.” Niall explained.

Emma shrugged her shoulders as she took a sip of wine. “I say we let everyone sit where they’d like to. Who cares about assigned seating?” Niall placed his hand on his forehead before he smiled sweetly. “I told you, honey. If everyone decided to sit where they wanted to then it’ll be a big mess. Each table seats 10 people. What if someone wants to sit at a table that already has 10 people sitting there? They can’t just pull up a chair as they please cause that’ll mean one table will only have 9 guests. We are having assigned seats!”

You and Emma both looked at each other with wide eyes from Niall’s outburst. His breathing was hard as he stared at a sheet with everyone’s name on it. You cleared your throat, “I may need a glass of wine myself for this.”

You looked at who was next on the guest sheet. “Oh! Louis. So we can put him and Eleanor with Liam and Cheryl at table 7.” You quickly wrote Louis’s and Eleanor’s name down on the blue print. Niall nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “Make sure you write Freddie’s and Bear’s name down as well.” You nodded as you began to write. “Who’s next on the list?”

Emma grabbed the guest sheet. “Harry-” Emma paused, her eyes widening a bit as she cleared her throat. “Styles…” Niall and Emma stared at you with weary eyes. Emma’s met Harry a couple of times and she loved him. She thought he was the absolute gentleman and she couldn’t believe what happened between you and him. She never knew Harry was capable of such heartbreak.

Your eyes remained focused on the blue print. You tried to remain unfazed, “Ok. Let’s put him and Kimberly at table 7 as well.” You began to write Harry’s name down before Niall cleared his throat. “Actually Y/N. Kimberly isn’t attending the wedding.”

You sighed as you placed your pencil down. You smiled softly at Emma and Niall sitting in front of you. “It’s sweet of you guys to not invite her but I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Harry would be pretty upset knowing he couldn’t bring his own wife.”

Emma looked at her fiancé. Her eyes telling him to tell you the news they recently got. Niall nodded, he turned back to you. “Harry and Kimberly filed for a divorce last month, Y/N.” You let out a small gasp before Emma explained, “He told us two weeks ago when we met for dinner.”

Your eyes were staring at Harry’s name written down on the blue print in front of him. Your eyes softened as you thought about Harry was feeling all about this. For as long as you knew Harry, you knew how he looked down at getting a divorce. Coming from divorced parents himself, he always saw divorce as giving up. You quickly shook your head, grabbing your pencil again. “That’s unfortunate to hear. Who’s next on the list?”

Emma came around the kitchen counter and placed her hand on your arm softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Niall nodded his head, reaching across the counter to place his hand on top of yours. “We’re here for you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly as you looked between the couple. “I’m fine, you guys. I promise.” You looked down. “It’s unfortunate Harry has to go through this. And I wish him nothing but the best.” You looked up at the couple. “Now who’s next?”

Emma and Niall exchanged a worried look before Niall sighed as he looked at the list. “Rory…Rory’s next.”


You sighed as you stared at your reflection in front of you. You ran your hands over your dress and smiled as you remembered the last time you wore this dress.

You thanked Harry as he handed you a glass of punch. Harry sat down on the chair next to you as he took in the scene around him. You and Harry went back to Holmes Chapel to celebrate Anne’s birthday. The backyard was filled with family and friends. The sun was about to set, fairy lights hung and music playing in the background. You laughed as you saw the younger kids dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the yard. Harry grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it. “I’m really happy you’re here, Y/N.”

You could feel your cheeks burning slightly as your eyes softened. “Of course, H. I would never miss Anne’s birthday. I adore her.”

Harry’s mouth opened to say something before one of your favorite songs bounced off the speakers. Harry instantly noticed the way your eyes sparkled and your smile widened as the “Photograph” started to play. Harry stood up and held his hand out to you. “May I have this dance?”

You giggled as you stood up, grabbing Harry’s hand. He led the two of you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. Harry’s eyes were staring at you intently. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Harry whispered. You smiled as you looked down at your feet. “Shut up you goof.”

Harry smiled, placing his hand on your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You were interrupted by your thoughts as Lucas knocked on your door. “Are you ready, babe?” You grabbed your purse before you looked at your reflection once again. “Ready.” you whispered.

As the car was taking you and Lucas to where Niall’s and Emma’s rehearsal dinner was being held, your foot was tapping anxiously. You could feel your palms becoming sweaty as you inched closer and closer to the restaurant. Lucas placed his hand on your thigh. “Are you alright?”

You smiled nervously while shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t. In a couple of minutes, you were going to be in the same room as Harry. You were going to finally see him after a year of cutting ties with each other. Would he say something to you? Should you say something to him? Was he going to bring up what happened that night? Is he going to talk about Kimberly?

As the car halted outside of the restaurant, you could feel yourself becoming nauseous. The restaurant looked great. It was closed for the event. You smiled at the small decorations scattered around the room. There were pictures of Niall and Emma throughout their relationship. Lucas gently kissed your cheek, “Good call on the photos.”

You let out a small shrug as you smiled. A slightly tipsy Niall and a sober Emma walked up to you and Lucas.

“Y/N!” the couple to be shouted, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as you hugged both of them. Emma leaned back. “Oh Y/N. We can’t thank you enough for helping with everything. I can sleep well tonight knowing everything is taken care of because of you.”

Niall nodded his head rapidly. “You were pretty much our wedding planner. Please. Let us pay you a little something for all the handwork you did.” He began to grab his wallet out of his pocket. You swatted at Niall’s arm, giving them a scowl.

“No! I could never take your money!” Niall was about to argue before you continued. “Niall, you’ve helped me so much for the past year. I can’t thank you enough. So think of this as me repaying you.” Niall’s eyes softened. He pulled you into another hug. “I told you everything would get better eventually” he whispered as he recalled the words he would say to you repeatedly during your falling out with Harry. You smiled as you squeezed Niall tighter in the hug. You pulled away and gave another hug to Emma.

The couple promised to meet with you and Lucas again before they went around to mingle with all of their friends and family. Lucas placed his hand on your waist. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” He said before he placed a kiss on your cheek and walking away.

As soon as Lucas walked away, you suddenly felt cold. You could feel eyes burning at the back of your head. You turned around slowly to see Harry standing across the room. He was staring at you with sadness in his eyes. You let out a shiver as it was the same look he gave you that night. You shook your head as you turned back around. You quickly walked away, wanting to get as far as you possibly could. You stepped out onto the restaurant patio. You let out a deep breath as you ran your hand through your hair.

“Y/N…”

You spun around to see Harry standing in front of you. You closed your eyes briefly, “Harry.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he took you in. “It’s so nice to see you again. You look beautiful.” You shook your head. You quickly murmured, “I can’t do this” before you pushed past Harry to go back inside.

“Are you happy?”

You halted as you turned back around. “What?”

Harry walked closer. “With him? Are you happy?” You looked at the ground before Harry continued, “Cause I’m a bloody mess without you.”

Your eyes filled with anger as you stepped closer to Harry. You poked him in the chest. “No! You can’t say things like that! You’re married!” Harry grabbed your hand, “I filed for a divorce!” Harry sighed as he glanced down before his eyes met yours. “What happened that night absolutely wrecked me, Y/N. For the rest of my life, I will always regret that night. I missed your fucking birthday, Y/N. I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself. I tried moving on. I tried being the best husband I could possibly could to Kimberly but I couldn’t. You! You were on my mind constantly! I couldn’t do a single thing without thinking about you! All I could see was you crying. All I could see was how much I hurt you. I will never be able to forgive myself. But Y/N. I fucking love you.”

By the end of Harry’s speech, the two of you had tears in your eyes. Harry wiped your eyes before he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

Harry’s eyes glanced between your eyes and lips. Suddenly he placed his lips on yours.


thank you guys so much for 2k followers! i created this blog because people like @harry-writings and @permanentcross & so much other amazing writers INSPIRED me to write things of my own! whenever i read something they wrote, i would remain in awe. i would constantly refresh their pages to see if they updated. knowing that people are doing the same to my own writing and even asking me for advice for their own blog makes me so…happy. and just so grateful. i love each and every one of you. THANK YOU ALL. 

you can find all my writing here

you can find part 6 here

ikke snakk til meg
  • we open with sana reciting this surah, which i see as an effort from sana to try and regain focus on her faith (but you should ask the muslims in the fandom <3)
  • very violent online abuse flashes before her eyes, apparently from when she was in middle school (here’s a detailing of the abuse)
  • once again, sana’s prayer is interrupted (it’s always interrupted either by an external character, or by her own thoughts…at the end of the series we’ll see her pray uninterrupted and it will be gorgeous)
  • we get this beautiful shot of literal and metaphorical self reflection. sana is broken after the latest events and she is now trying to pick herself back up (so, of course, she tries to go back to the beginning: the sana we first saw on the show, before it all started)
  • adding the above piece of art for reasons (like to charge/reblog to cast)
  • we’ve seen sana wear very loose hijabs this season, i remember people commenting on it. here, she tightens the fabric around her neck. i see it as her trying to protect herself. she needs all the extra strength she can get. all the extra fabric between her and the world.
  • she tries to reach out for the only friend (we know of) she could have left: jamilla. but we see they never got closure on the “sharmutta incident” and, when sana scrolls up, she is reminded of how much her and jamilla differ from one another. and she gives up.
  • quick note: i am not too happy too see jamilla painted as this hating muslimah but i’ll wait until the end of the series. her comment “i was just trying to protect you” reminds me a lot of sonja, who i hated really badly when she confronted isak during the hotel scene. but who redeemed herself and explained her behaviour in the end.
  • we see their last messages are from january 2016, so just after season 1 if i’m not mistaken? the tension started then and that’s probably why sana and her were already at war during season 2.
  • anyone knows what game the norwegians are playing at the school? it looks like a dance of some sorts: the way they’re placed and the couple is running in between the two groups…
  • isak is wearing a dandelion. from twitter: løvetannbarn (dandelion child) means person that has survived almost impossible upbringing.
  • this time, the lyrics are so on the nose even the beautiful subbers decided to translate some of them: an even song. to me, reminiscent of all the rumours spread about him paralleling the rumours spread about sana right now.
  • we see the pictures from the teaser: isak’s eye, sara (same jacket), noora…
    we’re missing the brown hair with a hand ruffling them and the carrot munching (but i feel like the carrot bit was more symbolic than anything)
  • sana is back to the beginning (see above) except, this time, it’s reversed: she’s not joining the girl squad and the russbuss. she’s leaving both.
  • liar liar pants on fire
  • and she’s not trying to show, like in her first clip where she sassed vilde and told her being a russ was punished by stoning, that she can and will become a russ. she’s instead using her faith as a reason for why she doesn’t want to be a russ. very flippening, much reversal.
  • sana goes to class and…
  • the book is open on a page about dandelions.
  • which brings me to the symbolism of the dandelion. according to google, dandelion translates to “dent de lion” in french which means “lion’s tooth” (i can vouch for that), summoning the symbolic meaning of lions: courage, pride, family (connection/communication). the dandelion is also a sun symbol (#sanasol).
  • we get this exchange that i LOVE but that, unfortunately, is getting misunderstood: sana and isak are awkward around each other but both really want to talk to each other. sana, after looking at isak’s very obvious blackeye, glances at the dandelion in his hair. isak scoffs and takes it off.
    you can’t take a black eye off. you can’t get rid of that barrier between two people. but you can take a flower off. i feel like the flower, here, is a perfect way for them to (in the sweetest way) break the ice. our attention is briefly redirected from the (devastating) black eye to the (hopeful) flower and, for a moment, everything is OK.

[cont. after the “read more”]

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Nothing More [ IV ] [ Final ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst

Length: 3k

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Watching the man you love love someone else was the most painful feeling in the world.

Part One: x Part Two: x  Part Three: Alternate Ending: x

Originally posted by angel-in-slow-motion

It was terrifying how much could change in a year. To think that just a few short weeks could change everything about you was daunting, but true. When you had left life felt like torture, like everywhere you looked there was something waiting to mock you. You were broken, your heart all but ashes when you boarded the first flight away, but you knew it was what you needed to do. You needed time away from it all to figure out what you wanted, to figure out who you were without all of the things you’d grown so used to. It was hard, leaving it all behind, like you just gave away a piece of yourself with no plans of ever getting it back.

Loving Byun Baekhyun was hard, but letting that love go, was harder.

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Little Jealous There, Sarge?

{Part Two}

Summary: There’s nothing wrong with not being the most experienced person in the bedroom. In fact, some people find it rather attractive, particularly James Buchanan Barnes. Although you express how much you want him, Bucky remains distant; he doesn’t want to do anything to hurt you. So what do you do? You elicit Sam’s help.

Warnings: jealous!Bucky x inexperienced!Reader, fluff, smut, biting kink

A/N: Inspired after spending some quality time with @mermanbuckybarnes and learning just how jealous Bucky can get.

Originally posted by stuckwithbuck


Bucky’s hands remained firmly on his lap, his eyes glued to the television screen. Black Swan was on and Bucky was entranced by the symbolism, striking colors, phenomenal acting, and the now on screen sex scene between Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman.

Your eyes raked over his body. His breathing had visibly increased, a sheen of sweat beginning to form on his skin, his hands moving ever-so-slightly to cover the growing erection in his pants; his tongue darting out to lick his lips, pulling in his bottom lip and dragging it between his teeth to quiet a moan. His eyes met yours when he felt your attention on him.

“You’re missing the movie, doll.” His voice had dropped an octave.

“Oh, you’re much more interesting than the movie, trust me.” You nibbled on your bottom lip contemplating whether or not to act on your lustful thoughts. 

You took a deep breath and reached for the remote, pausing the movie. You tossed it across the room before Bucky could grab it, shifting your position and climbing on top of his lap. His hands found your hips as you started grinding yourself against him; he worked you into an even rhythm.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered in your ear as you trailed kisses up his neck.

“You.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and yanked on the strands. “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, Sarge.”

“(Y/N)…” Bucky’s grip tightened on your hips.

“Oh, fuck!” Your clit was getting the attention it needed. “P-Please, Buck.”

“I…” Bucky sighed and stopped his movements, bringing your own to a halt. “I can’t.” He shook his head and lifted you off his lap. “I, uh, I’ll just see you later, doll.”

You tried to call out after him but he was gone in a flash. You plopped onto your back and groaned loudly, ignoring the ringtone symbolizing Sam blasting from your phone. That’s when the idea hit you and you knew exactly what you had to do. 

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vernon; the boy next door (m)

genre/warnings: fluff/romance/smut, flangst, adorkableness, use of non-penetrative sex toys, (not so) dry humping

word count:  14737

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female, Joshua, Jeonghan + various 

prompts: roommate!Vernon, silliness, cuddles, mac n’cheese = love 

(a/n) my birthday project for my muse. thank you for everything vern:) and kisses for @vernkn​ who gifed my soft sweater vernon aesthetic. enjoy!

She loved Joshua Hong.

When she was so graciously offered to live in her aunt’s vacation penthouse close to her university of choice, the only catch was that she had to pay some of the bills. Completely fair, because it was a kind enough gesture to give away a freshly furnished space to a niece you barely talked to. Luckily, there was enough room for another guest, enough to split the rent.

So in comes the savior of her life, brother from another mother, Joshua Hong, decked out in sandy beige Sperry’s and ironed white jeans. Fresh from South California, he wore their sunshine on his smile, and their attitude in his Cheshire eyes. He was attending the same university as well, and was conveniently looking for a means to stay. Needless to say, she pounced on him at orientation before he could ask anyone else.

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Confession - Peter Parker

request -  hey! I love your blog and the writing’s are great and super fluffy and so cute AHHH. Could you please write a fic in which peter and the reader have been friends for a long time and when they finally go to Liz;s party peter confesses his feelings for the reader and could you make it super fluffy? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RUNNING THIS BLOG!

a/n - i’m so sorry if this fic seems rushed i went back and forth so many times with different ideas and hopefully it turned out okay :) thank you so much for all the love, don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like!

The bass of the speakers boomed around the house as I poured some soda for Michelle and I. The continuous chatter of teenagers was the only sound I could hear from the music, almost running around the kitchen to collect snacks. I gathered a plate and was ready to share with Michelle, but she seemed to have a piece of toast in her hand, spreading butter on it.

“Where’d you find that?” I asked, eating a pretzel.

“Second cabinet from the left.” She answered, turning to me. “Want a bite?”

“No thanks.” I took a step back, chuckling. She shrugged and continued to eat the bread, taking a sip of her soda. We both continued to talk with one another until we heard Flash’s voice echo off the walls.

“When I say Penis, you say Parker!” He yelled into the microphone, attempting to start the mediocre chant that got really old after five minutes. But, in an unfortunate way, it let me know that Peter arrived. I headed to the door to look for him, catching him in a heartbeat.

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My Future Wife, LeFou!

Originally posted by softtroublemaker

Originally posted by luuuuuke-evans

Title: My Future Wife, LeFou!
Words: 2,456 
Pairing: GastonxReader
Warnings: Little Bit of Swearing
A/N: Oh dear god I can’t find any Gaston stories I like so I guess I’ll just write my fucking own I guess that’s the only way I’ll ever be happy so enjoy my Luke Evans thirst

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Marc Guggenheim SDCC17 Interview

Marc Guggenheim was kind enough to meet with me for a one on one chat. 

We walked the floor together with his nephew and little girl (who are the cutest) for an hour and talked all things Arrow!!! He told me this is his most aggressive SDCC schedule ever, so the fact that he slotted in some time just for me really meant the world. Marc Guggenheim is the actual best. He is the definition of it.

SPOILERS!!!

We launched right into number one on my list: wedding.

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characterization, filters, and characterization to be found in the lack of filters

Talking about Jane earlier got me thinking, you know, Jane is not at all the only character that uses this device to show off the less desirable traits lurking in the psyche of all these damaged teens. Like. So many characters have these lurking deep seated issues that stay hidden deep down because the characters are pretty good at projecting a less damaged and more together version of themselves. 

If that sounds familiar it’s because it’s a fucking outrageously relatable quality and part of what makes the Homestuck characters RESONATE so much. Why they feel like they have all this dimension and depth that makes us grab on to them and never want to let go. 

I’m just going to run through some examples here while I’m thinking about it. The first OBVIOUSLY since thinking about her is what got me going on this – Jane. Crockertier Jane removing the layers of self-imposed filter on Jane’s festering insecurity, entitlement issues, jealousy and so on. I’ve already talked enough about that today.

Grimbark Jade! You notice Jade says what she’s thinking WAY more easily while she’s mind controlled, and she still sounds like herself – she sounds kinda like she does when she’s owning Karkat repeatedly, doesn’t she? Because angry Jade has that same effect of pushing her nice girl filter aside and letting the angry witch (not a cutesy slur, her literal witch class) within fly free. Grimbark Jade tells us that behind that nice girl front Jade Harley actually thinks some pretty uncharitable thoughts sometimes, she just keeps a tight fucking lid on it because – well, don’t most people? Relatable as fuck. 

Jadesprite! Since we’re talking about Jade anyway. Jade likes to think she has everything together, that her visions from Skaia and her scientific prowess and the tools her Grandpa left her are more than enough to handle everything that comes her way, she’s independent, she’s capable, she’s certainly never LONELY oh no of course not certainly never CRUSHINGLY OVERWHELMED by the responsibility of her own existence nah those are weak feelings for weak girls who aren’t as awesome as Jade! And then – Jadesprite. Why do you think Jade got SO ANGRY at Jadesprite? Because she was being confronted with something she knew deep down was a reflection of weaknesses in herself (totally normal ones that her later arc reinforced were a mistake to pretend weren’t there – Loneliness and fear and regret are all tied in with Jade’s character progression and learning how to deal with those things is where I imagine her arc would have gone if Homstuck’s ending hadn’t been the literary equivalent of chopping off a limb and cauterizing the wound.) Jadesprite is Jade without the filter of implacable strength Jade imposes on herself to fuckin cope with living on a hell island with the stuffed corpse of her grandpa who she grew up thinking literally killed himself at BEST.  god damn

Davesprite. Dave Strider with a slow long agonizing depressing arc wherein he realizes his coolkid persona won’t make anyone think of him as their best friend anymore, and in the absence of the security that persona afforded him when he was The Real Dave he has no idea what to do with himself. He’s lost, he feels aimless, untethered, incapable of being happy – and yes, Davesprite is his own character, but you can still infer a lot from Dave’s character about him – for instance, how he completely ties his self worth up in how useful he is to his friends or how worthwhile they find him and has no idea how to even BEGIN the hard journey of looking within for worth instead of relying eternally on changeable external sources. Davesprite is Dave not WITHOUT a filter but certainly with a VERY DIFFERENT one.

Homestuck does this with almost every single damn character on its roster at some point. Shows a version of them with a different or lesser or completely missing filter to highlight flaws and issues and internal struggles of all kinds. 

Homestuck is a damn deep dive into an exercise about analyzing nature vs nurture and what we’re predisposed to do and what comes from within and what is put upon us by forces out of our control, and how that line is blurry and messy and everyone has the potential to be either the worst or best version of themselves. Even Caliborn was given a choice. Hussie-The-Character explained it to him at great painstaking length. 

There are so many other examples. Jasprose is Rose without a filter, and the way Jasprose goes around gleefully calling every hot girl she sees hot and delighting smugly in knowing more than just about anyone else and lording over the information and playing smarter-than-thou games – that tells us a LOT about Rose! A LOT about what sort of urges Rose tamps down on every day in an effort to just be fucking cool! 

I bet you have things like this with yourself, right? Doesn’t everyone?

Tricksters! Look at how they act. They’re not themselves but there is plenty to glean from them. Jane immediately goes for Jake, the object of her desire, to pursue an exaggerated version of her idealized future. Trickster Jake is a passive fucking ragdoll who immediately acquiesces to everything everyone demands of him because their happiness becomes his happiness – Jake hates confrontation, so Trickster Jake is just a fucking doormat. Roxy goes for Jake AND Dirk because divorced from the guilt she normally feels for harboring desire toward either one of them she knows exactly what she wants! ETC ETC. Of course they would never do any of this shit if they weren’t high as balls and incapable of understanding the meaning of the word “consequence.” That’s the point. Seeing what they do in this situation is an interesting window in!

Brain Ghost Dirk is a version of Jake (yes, of Jake, not Dirk) without a specific filter Jake runs his own personality through before he’s comfortable presenting it to others, and you’ll notice, it’s EXTREMELY biting and critical sometimes. Jake knows what he’s about. He just buries it most of the time because that’s easier than dealing with it. 

I could seriously keep going. 

Homestuck loves to show us what our favorites do and say and ARE when basic filters go out the window. Those filters that most of us employ to make other people believe we don’t all have intrusive thoughts or bad desires or just plain old weaknesses we’re ashamed of and want to keep hidding at costs – or that we occasionally think things or think about doing things we would never ever ever do in real life are demolished or changed or temporarily suspended. 

It’s brilliant tbh. It lets us see facets of characters that would normally never really get full spotlight reveals by their very nature, especially with protagonists. 

Vriska vs (Vriska) – (Vriska) is just Vriska with some more self awareness and more willingness to let down her self-imposed filter and actually examine the shit she wants and why because watching Aranea fuck the timeline over out of motivations eerily similar to her own hardcore shook her enough to develop in that direction. (which makes sense since HER original motivations are copying Mindfang who IS alt-aranea lmao I love Homestuck)  (Vriska) is still Vriska, it’s just a very very different lens through which to view her character. 

blah blah blah blah etc there are so many examples

anyway I love Homestuck and good character writing what up

1940 -- Chapter One

(banner credit: @tiostyles)

The beginning of a series where you fall in love with a soldier named Alex.

A Note From The Author: This is the first of many chapters for this Alex!AU. This chapter is simply setting the scenes for what is to come between y/n and Alex. Stay tuned for swing dancing, cheeky banter from Alex, and a few stolen kisses along the way. Let me know what you think! xxh


April, 1938
London, England 

The store sat empty, as it did most days of the week. Dust regularly collected on the cash register sitting in front of you and its brass keys grew stiff with the lack of activity. With your elbows propped up on the counter, you leaned your weight forward and held your chin in the hand that wasn’t busy drumming across the countertop. They tapped in time with the clock ticking on the wall, a constant reminder that you were stuck here on such a lovely day outside.

It was unusually warm for this time of year. Normally covered in a dreary layer of gray, the sidewalks and storefronts shone in the rare-April sunshine, people out and about, taking advantage of the weather. You were antsy as you watched out the window, hoping that someone, anyone, would walk through the door and give you something to talk about.

Keep reading

→ Paper Doll | 01

Originally posted by sugutie

☆ pairing → Jungkook x Reader

☆ genre → idol+singer-songwriter!au, drama, slight angst

 warning sexual themes with smut in the next chapters, mentions of past unhealthy relationship 

☆ word count   → 2.1k

summary   → When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed –  it was you.

alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

01 | 02 


a/n  → so basically this is me being coerced into writing jjk smut 
edit: pt i is more of a prologue



[+11,435; -2,003] this really breaks my image of him… proves how you can’t judge someone from their personality on camera

[+9,386; -1,983] all this time he was pretending to be super innocent haha all those stupid fangirls throwing money at him blindly must be going crazy

[+5,903; -1,234] i mean everyone goes through break-ups, but he was cosplaying as an innocent guy who was scared of skinship with girls all these years.. lmao he’s super shamel–

The words on the screen in front of him all blurred and bled into one big stain. He quickly scrolled through the hundreds and hundreds of comments, each more condemning than the last. A steady pressure was building in his ears, until the only thing he could see or feel were the accusations of a faceless crowd, all jeering at him loudly, fingers pointed.

It was as if his entire life flashed in front of his eyes right then, and he could suddenly recall every inconsequential and significant thing that had shaped his life the past seven years – the hours and hours spent in front of the mirror rehearsing the same steps over and over again, the taste of soggy ramen Hoseok hyung had let overcook last week, the screams of fans, the sound of his alarm clock, the look on your face when you told him it was over. There was no chronology to the kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses of his past.

“What,” he breathed, hands shaking, eyes wide and disbelieving as his phone fell with a clatter on the table. He desperately wanted to ignore reality, but the stares that were all focused on him kept him grounded to the present.

Of course his first scandal would be linked to you.

Keep reading

Lance and the Mirror of Erised

Lance stares back at the mirror suspiciously, wondering why in the hell Pidge would ever want to keep that. It’s not like she would need it or anything, and Lance hold no grudges against it, it’s just…

Creepy.

Suspicious.

Creepy because of the old fashioned golden frame with an inscription that said, erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Whatever alien language that was in.

Suspicious because when Pidge had found it during a mission, she claimed to have seen her brother and father in the reflection, smiling at her, hoping it was some kind of clue, and thus she brings it on board to the castle.

Lance called the bull immediately, wanting to get rid of that…mirror thing…as soon as possible. He could think of all the bad things that could happen, everything he’s seen in movies come flashing through his mind…like what if one of the paladins got literally sucked in and can’t get themselves out? Or what if one of them couldn’t take their eyes off the reflection because they saw some kind of traumatizing thing that could affect their brains?

Whatever the possibilities, it’s just unlikely to find something this enchanting with their luck. But the others took Pidge’s word over his ridiculous thoughts, thinking what possible damage could a mirror do? It’s only a big piece of glass surrounded by a fancy old frame, glass for which people could check their reflection, that’s all a mirror is after all.

It was a quiet night, up until the point when Lance woke up from a nightmare, and all he could do was pace around the castle in order to clear his mind from all the horrid images that would flash in his head from the bad dream. He didn’t feel like going back to sleep any time soon, and getting some food from the kitchen to help him fall asleep wasn’t exactly something he want to do at two in the morning.

Or…space.

He thought about going to the training deck to help tire him out, and keep his mind busy at the same time, seeing that he wasn’t going back to bed in his room any time now.

-

Once he was in the training deck, he was just about to demand for a level, expecting the training bot to come out, until he was interrupted by a quick flash of light in his peripheral vision that caught his attention. He walks closer to the light, keeping his footsteps light as if he was approaching a small creature. He keeps his eyes open, thinking that if he loses his eye contact, the light would disappear in a flash.

It comes to his disappointment when the light of the object that caught his direct attention was just the lights of the training deck reflecting off that stupid mirror Pidge brought home.

However, he does look good in it.

He runs his eyes back over the frames of the mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Still gibberish, if you ask him.

Lance’s eyes drifts into the actual mirror, and checks himself out, happy to see that there wasn’t a line of worry on his face, or a break out any where in his sight. His hair was a disheveled mess, sticking up in every direction due to the twists and turns he had done in bed because of the nightmares. He didn’t bother to fix it up, knowing that he’ll just fall asleep, and it’ll still be an untidy mess when he wakes up. He does a couple of poses just for the fun of it, chuckling softly at his reflection as he was making faces for his own enjoyment.

Okay, maybe the mirror isn’t as evil or creepy as Lance thought it would be, but it still doesn’t mean that finding this during a mission, along Pidge saying she saw her brother, it doesn’t make it any more suspicious than it already is. Useful, maybe, but still suspicious.

He feels a yawn release itself from his chest and escape his lips, and he decides to leave the deck before he falls asleep on the spot. Lance was giving one more finger gun at himself towards the mirror, until he sees it.

He catches his breath, and his heart felt like it almost dropped to the pit of his stomach. Scratch that, he feels his stomach begin to churn, aching with a sense of longing and sickness. There was no way that what he was seeing was actually real, but he refuses to look away and search behind him to see if it was more than an illusion. As much as it pains him to say, he feels his tongue tie itself in a knot, wanting to say that one word he hasn’t said out loud in so long without seeing her face.

“Mamá?”

There she stood, smiling, dressed in her usual floral clothing. In the mirror, she looked just as Lance had remembered, her friendly smile, her short height, her kind blue eyes. The image of his mamá squeezed his cheeks with one hand, leaving a small kiss. Lance’s eyes widens, and he didn’t even feel a tear roll down his face until he reaches a hand up to wipe it away.

And as he wipes it away, he looks around him, the training deck still empty. Looking back into the mirror, the reflection of his mamá stood, whispering words in his ear that Lance couldn’t hear. She gives him a big hug, which made Lance open his arms up to hug her back, only to find himself reaching out for nothing but air.

He snaps from his daze, his arms slowly going back down to his sides, but he hasn’t break eye contact with the mirror just yet.

His mamá steps aside, but Lance didn’t want her to go just yet. He wanted to remember her face, have it etched in his mind, so he wouldn’t ever forget. Luckily, she only stepped aside for another person to come in the mirror.

Another person steps into view. A taller person. With her long brown hair and similar blue eyes, her golden tan skin like the sun had given her a kiss. His oldest sister. She brings Lance in an embrace, holding him close, almost picking him up off the ground. But Lance looks up, knowing that she wasn’t really there, but still felt disappointed when he comes to see no one hugging him. He returns to indulge himself in the reflections and images that the mirror was somehow giving. Then another comes in, this one was shorter, his brown hair bouncing as he was running up to Lance’s reflection, wrapping his little arms around his leg. Came another one, joining in on the group hug. Then another, and another, until Lance sees all of his siblings, his four sisters and three brothers, drowning him in a big, suffocatingly loving, group hug.

He longs to feel all of these hugs himself, and not just look at it happening in a mirror. His heart starts to warm up by seeing every single face he comes to see in the reflection, laughing quietly to himself.

Lance brings his arms closer to him, embracing himself with his own arms to feel the hugs. It wasnt as comforting as the numerous of arms that wrapped around him in the reflection, but it’ll do.

Soon, they all stepped aside. He didn’t want them to leave yet, but he could still see them, waving to him, smiling, jumping around. Some were carried by others, the older siblings were giving the little ones piggy back rides.

Then Lance sees him.

He feels his heart elevate up, lodging itself in his throat, skipping a beat.

“Keith!”

He jumps, catching his breath as he turns around, expecting to see Keith’s confused expression on his face.

No one.

All he heard were the sounds of his own breathing and his heart pounding in rythm. All he sees is the emptiness of the training deck.

Lance’s breathing gradually slows down, looking back at the mirror to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The reflection of Keith was still standing there, smiling directly at Lance.

Why would he be there?

If Pidge saw her brother and father, and I saw my family, then wouldn’t this mirror just be showing images of…family? Or…Am I wrong? What’s going on?

He watches intensively, all his attention back on the reflection if him and Keith. Although Lance feels himself gaping at the mirror, his reflection shows him smiling softly at Keith, almost a smirk.

Then he sees it.

The reflection of Lance looks down, interlacing his fingers with Keith’s. He holds it up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on Keith’s hand. The reflection of Keith smirks, cupping Lance’s face with his other hand, and smashes against his lips with his own. The two images moves their mouths together in synch, hands moving in places Lance wished he could do, the two pulling apart only to gasp for a breath of air, and continue to kiss like the world had stopped spinning and time had stopped running.

Lance steps back, startled by the quickened pace of his pulse, his heart racing faster just by looking at the image. Never would he thought of being jealous of himself, but at this point, he has now come to a conclusion that this mirror was evil.

“Lance?”

The voice was sudden, like it came out of nowhere, yanking Lance out of his daze. He jumps back, turning around to meet his eyes with the one and only Keith.

His mullet was all mussed up, causing him to run his fingers through it to keep it from falling down on his eyes. The bags underneath shows that he had just woken up, rubbing them with his other hand as he made an arch in his back to stretch.

“What are you doing?”

Lance hums in response, trying to block Keith’s vision away from the mirror.

“Nothing.” He says quickly, wincing at the pitch in his voice.

Keith raises an eyebrow, still unconvinced by the tone of Lance’s voice.

“Is that the mirror Pidge found?”

Lance turns to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, the reflection still showed the two of them canoodling, smiling, flirting, and hugging.

“I-It’s nothing,” Lance stutters again, internally slapping himself in the back of his mind with an invisible palm.

“C'mon, I just wanna see what I look like,” Keith chuckles, unaware of the small hoarse in his voice that really made Lance’s insides twist about.

Keith moves him aside with no effort, finding himself looking at the mirror with a small smile.

Lance panicks, attempting to explain what’s happening, and hopes Keith doesn’t get freaked out on what he sees in the mirror. “Look, it’s weird, I get it, but I saw those images–”

“Lance–”

“–and it wasn’t like I was in control of what I saw–

“Lance–”

“–and I don’t even know what was happening–”

Lance!

He stops rambling, directing his attention to a calm looking Keith, smiling. His eyes weren’t mad, and his expression hasn’t changed. Or maybe it was just because he was more tired than Lance thought he would be.

“What are you talking about?”

Lance blinks a couple times at him, wondering if Keith didn’t see what he saw. He hesitates before he asks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, “The reflection? What do you see?”

“Me?” Keith answers, raising another curious eyebrow at Lance, “Isn’t that what mirrors are for?”

Lance blinks to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but looking at Keith–the real Keith–the tightness of his chest loosens. He lets out a deep breath, his eyes drifts back to the reflection of him and Keith holding hands, embracing each other like a couple would.

Maybe it was just him that could really see it, or maybe it was just the lack of sleep giving him all these illusions.

Lance lets out another sigh, breaking his eye contact with the mirror, and smiles at Keith, “Maybe I should go take a rest now.”

Keith gives him a small smirk, brushing the bangs of his hair back, “Heh, I recommend it.”

Lance sticks his tongue out, and leads himself out the entrance of the training deck. He turns back, expecting Keith to be following right behind him. Except he wasn’t, and instead, his eyes were focused on his reflection of the mirror.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Keith rips his attention away from the mirror, and his eyes were back to Lance with a bigger smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He sighs, running his hand through his unruly hair again, “I’m coming.”

With one last glance at the mirror, Keith drags his legs towards Lance, brushing their shoulders against each other sleepily as the two of them walked back to their rooms, which were conveniently placed right next to each other.

Keith mumbles a ‘good night’ to Lance, right before his door shuts close right in front of him. Lance catches his face heat up, a blush creeping on his cheeks. With his hand on the door, he smiles at the door of Keith’s room, muttering a ‘good night, Mullet’ as if he could hear through walls. Lance slips inside his own room, with the sound of the door sliding closed behind him.

Little did he know that what Keith actually saw in the mysterious mirror wasn’t exactly what he told him.

He did see himself, that part was true. However, it was part of the truth. What Keith saw–what he really saw–was him and the tan and lanky figure of an obnoxiously loud and hilarious person named Lance. In the reflection, he saw himself–yes–he was smiling, and he was happy. The reflection of Lance went up behind Keith, and took him in his arms by the waist. Lance’s grip on Keith’s waist looked tight, but he seemed to sink himself further into the embrace.

Keith’s reflection put his hands over Lance’s, his smile widening at the touch. Even if it was just an image, he could still feel his heart pounding out of his chest like it was about to burst, but he kept his breathing steady. The reflection of Lance placed a soft kiss on his cheek, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

And what the real Keith saw that made him not want to look away, was the minute his eyes drifted back down at their hands, and saw that there were silver rings on both him and Lance’s ring fingers.

His smile widened, and he heard Lance’s voice call him back to reality, but that didn’t make his smile go away.

“Aren’t you coming?” Lance had asked in that sleepy tone in his voice.

Maybe one day… Keith thought as he took a quick glance back at the reflection and seeing the image of him and Lance disappear as he tugs himself out of his trance, dragging his legs towards the real Lance. Maybe one day that’ll be my reality…

But hey, Lance didn’t need to know all that extra information, doesn’t he?

Besides, he’s got part of the truth already.

Perfect

Originally posted by jugheadjones94

Anon requests:can I request a Jughead Jones imagine where the reader moved from Riverdale a few years ago and comes back while the Jason Blossom death mystery (she knows what happened and all even Ms. Grundy) she and Jughead had a past together (like Jughead and Archie liked her and they were bffs but she liked Jug more) and they still love each other and Jughead sees her at school and it hits him that she’s back but he’s dating Betty and Archie still likes her and it pisses off Jug. The ending’s up to you :)

Could you do a Jughead x reader based on Perfect by Ed Sheeran??

Pairing: Jughead x Betty, Archie x Reader, Jughead x Reader

Description: An old childhood crush returns, and of course, drama ensues.

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,208

A/N: wow okay so I totally strayed from the prompts but I’m hoping you like it anyway?? Anyhow, enjoy!


I found a love for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Jughead stood in the school hallway by Betty’s locker, talking and laughing with her.  His eyes almost missed a figure walking past him, but at the last second his gaze flickered to a girl striding down the hallway.  He did a double take as he realized who it was.

“(Y/N)?” he muttered under his breath, interrupting his conversation with Betty.

“What?” Betty asked, looking over her shoulder at the girl who just passed by.  “(Y/N)?  Didn’t she used to live around here or something?”

“Yeah,” he answered, breathless. “Yeah, but then she moved.”

“Well, I guess she’s back,” Betty replied, then steered the conversation back to their previous topic. Jughead nodded and responded to everything Betty said, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the girl who returned to Riverdale.

Jughead was not the only member of (Y/N)’s childhood to be shaken by her return; Archie spotted her roaming the hallways later that day.  His heartbeat started to quicken as the feelings for his childhood crush rushed back to him.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled, following her down the hallway.  She turned around at the call of her name, and when she noticed Archie, she broke out into a grin.

“Archie!” she exclaimed, walking towards him.  “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, and they soon fell in step as they began to walk in the same direction.  “How are you?”

“I’m great,” she beamed.

“So you’re back,” he noted, a smile never leaving his face.  (Y/N) smiled and nodded.

“I am,” she replied.  “Just moved back a few days ago, actually.” The conversation lulled for a moment, neither (Y/N) or Archie knowing what to say.  “So how’s Jughead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“He’s good,” Archie answered. “He’s got a girlfriend now.”  (Y/N) froze.

“Really?” she questioned, painting a smile on her face.  “Who?”

“Do you remember Betty Cooper?” Archie asked, and (Y/N) nodded.  “He’s dating her.”

“Oh wow,” (Y/N) fake laughed. “Honestly, I always thought she had a thing for you.”

“She did,” Archie shrugged, “but I didn’t feel the same.  She moved on to Jughead, I guess.”  The pair fell into a moment of silence again before the ringing of the school bell broke it.

“Well, I have to get to biology,” (Y/N) said, moving away from Archie.  Before she got too far, Archie called out after her.

“Hey, do you wanna catch up sometime?  Like maybe meet at Pop’s tonight?”  

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled.  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, when (Y/N) entered Pop’s, the first face she saw was not Archie.  Rather, it was Jughead, who she had not yet seen since she moved back. Scanning the diner to make sure Archie wasn’t waiting for her, (Y/N) walked towards Jughead’s booth.

“Jughead, hey,” she greeted as she approached his table.  He glanced up from his laptop to see (Y/N) standing over him.

“(Y/N),” he said with wide eyes. He slowly closed his laptop lid, then gestured for her to sit.  “You’re back.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I am.”  Before Jughead could say anything else, the bell on the door jingled, signaling a new customer had entered.  It was Archie.  “Well,” (Y/N) said, standing up, “that’s my cue to leave.  See you around, Jug.”  Jughead tensed at the use of his old nickname, and he watched as (Y/N) walked over to Archie and sat across from him in a booth.  He felt his blood boil every time she laughed at something he said. Constantly, he reminded himself there was nothing to be jealous of, he had a girlfriend.  Somehow, that only made his longing for (Y/N) worse.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

Jughead, Archie, and (Y/N) were in third grade.  It was a hot summer day, filled with sticky popsicle hands, grass tickling the bottom of bare feet, and a bright sun radiating an immense amount of heat.  The children were running around in (Y/N)’s backyard with not a care in the world.  Suddenly, (Y/N) tripped and scraped her knee.  She cried out in pain, causing the boys to turn around in shock.

“(Y/N)!” Jughead exclaimed, both him and Archie running over to her side.

“Are you okay?” Archie asked, examining her knee.

“I’m fine,” she pushed both boys away.  “It’s just a scrape.”  This didn’t relieve the concerned looks from either of the boys’ faces, and (Y/N), looking directly at Jughead, repeated that she was fine.  Jughead reached out a hand and helped her up.

None of the children knew it at the time, but one day Jughead and (Y/N) would reflect on this day and realize that at this moment, something in their relationship changed.  There was a shift from friendship to love, and it all started on the day where (Y/N) scraped her knee.

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes you’re holding mine

Archie asked (Y/N) to Pop’s again. And again.  And again.  On the fifth visit, Archie confessed his feelings for (Y/N) and asked if they could call these trips to Pop’s dates.  (Y/N), although deep down she knew her heart belonged to someone else, agreed. Neither of them payed any attention to the slamming of the door at the front.  Jughead had stormed out after hearing the exchange.

“We should have a double date,” Archie suggested to Jughead one day during school.  Jughead rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut.

“Why?” he questioned and began strolling down the hallway.  Archie followed.

“Because I think it’d be fun,” he answered, oblivious to Jughead’s jealousy.  “I mean we were both super close with (Y/N) when we were younger, and it’s not like her and Betty are strangers.  I think it’d be fun.”  He walked off, leaving Jughead alone to his thoughts.

Jughead weighed the pros and cons of going on this double date.  On the one hand, maybe having Betty and (Y/N) together in the same room as him might help set himself straight.  He was sick of feeling guilty every time he was around Betty.  But on the other hand, he was afraid of seeing (Y/N) with Archie.  Sure, he saw them together at Pop’s all the time, but if both of them were sitting in front of him, he would not be able to look away.  He’d be forced to watch as Archie wrapped his arms around (Y/N), and he’d have to see her laughing at all his jokes.  And the worse part would be that as he sat next to Betty, the only thing he’d be thinking about is how he wished to be in Archie’s place.

Finally, Jughead made up his mind and texted Archie his answer:

Yes.  Let’s do the double date.

The night of the double date arrived, and Jughead was second-guessing his decision.  Maybe this was a bad idea.  Or maybe it’ll be fine.  No, this was an awful idea.

They didn’t do anything fancy for the double date; all four of them agreed that Pop’s was the best place to go.  When Jughead arrived at the diner, the only other person there was (Y/N).  He approached the booth and slid into it across from her.

“Hey,” he greeted.  She smiled.

“Hey, Jug,” she responded. Neither of them said anything else, both of them caught up in their own whirlwind of thoughts.  This is how it should be.  This is how they should be.

“This was a mistake,” Jughead finally said, breaking the tension.  He stood up and began to exit.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) called out after him.  He stopped and spun on his heel, but he didn’t come back to the table.

“Leaving, (Y/N), I’m leaving,” he answered, his voice sharp.  (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“I know that, dumbass, I mean why?”

“Because I can’t do this,” he threw his hands up in the air in frustration.  “I can’t sit across from you and watch you be happy with someone else.” Neither (Y/N) or Jughead noticed that Betty and Archie had just entered the diner.

“Why?  You can’t be happy for me?” (Y/N) demanded, stepping a tiny bit closer to Jughead.  He shook his head.

“No, I can’t,” he replied.  “Not when you’re happy with someone else.”  

“Then who do you want me to be happy with?”

“With me, goddammit!” he shouted. (Y/N) froze.

“With you?” she repeated, quieter. Jughead buried his face in his hands.

“Jesus,” he mumbled into his skin, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Well since you did,” (Y/N) took a couple more steps closer to Jughead, “why don’t you explain yourself?”

“I’m in love with you, okay?” he shouted, throwing arms up.  “Is that what you wanted to hear?  I have been in love with you since the third grade, and then you fucking left.  So I started dating Betty because I thought she made me happy, and dammit she does make me happy.  But then you came back, you just had to come back.  Now Betty, poor Betty, she doesn’t have a clue.  I still love you, (Y/N), but now you’re dating Archie and this is just a big pile of shit.”  (Y/N) stood there motionless, unable to move.

“Since the third grade?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  Jughead nodded.

“Jughead,” Betty finally gained the courage to speak.  Her voice caught the attention of both Jughead and (Y/N), causing their focus to snap over to the blonde and the ginger standing in the entrance.

“How much of that did you hear?” Jughead groaned.  Betty smiled sadly.

“All of it.”

“You must hate me,” he said, and Betty shook her head.

“No, Juggie, I don’t hate you. But I do think you should’ve told me how you felt.”  She walked up to him, kissed him on the cheek, and then slowly walked backwards. “I’m not going to keep you from the girl you love.”  She sent him one more sad smile before exiting the diner, leaving Jughead, Archie, and (Y/N).

“Jughead,” Archie started, but Jughead held up his hand to stop him.

“No, Archie, this isn’t about me,” Jughead said.  “It’s about (Y/N).”  Both of the boys turned to face (Y/N), and she couldn’t help but recall that time when she scraped her knee.  That time where both of the boys showed concern for her, but she only appreciated it from one of them.

“(Y/N)?” Archie questioned. “It’s okay if you don’t want to… you know.”  She looked at him sadly.

“Archie,” she began, “I love you. I truly, truly do.”  Jughead deflated at this, and he was about to exit the diner when (Y/N) continued.  “But I can’t lead you on like this.  You’ve been one of my best friends since we were little, and I don’t want anything to ruin that.”  She didn’t have to say anything else, because Archie nodded in understanding.  He hugged (Y/N) tight, and they stood embracing each other in the diner, Jughead watching.  They pulled apart and Archie nodded at Jughead before he, too, left the diner.

Jughead and (Y/N) stood facing each other in the oddly vacant diner.

“So…” (Y/N) drawled.  “You love me?”

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Neither of them had any idea of what to say, so they agreed to go home and meet up again tomorrow.  Both (Y/N) and Jughead stayed awake the whole night, wondering what they were going to say to the other the next day.

That fateful day arrived, and (Y/N) walked into Pop’s, immediately spotting Jughead sitting in a booth.  She approached the booth, and as she neared it, Jughead looked up at the sound of her footsteps.  He smiled.

“Sorry, I’m kind of a mess today,” she laughed, gesturing to her disheveled state.  She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of leggings with a small hole in them, and her hair was falling out of its ponytail.

“You look perfect,” he whispered, not intending for her to hear it.  However, he realized he said it too loud when he saw her smile.  She sat down across from him.

“So you love me,” she repeated what he had said yesterday, and Jughead nodded.

“I do,” he replied.  (Y/N) pursed her lips for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I love you, too,” she finally said, barely above a whisper.

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

We are still kids, but we’re so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we’ll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I’ll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Expectant - Request

Requested by anon:  could you do a Reader x Sherlock where she finds out she’s expecting and Sherlock has no idea how to react for awhile? Thank you :-)
Also, another anon requested for a fluffy one with Sherlock so…

Summary: (Y/N) is acting strange, and Sherlock notices. She ends up confessing the truth and… He struggles to find the words.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Warnings: Bit of angst (not really) because of Sherlock’s reaction. Also, fluffy.

Word count: 2,807

A/N: My Sherlock feels are rising like the fenix rises from the ashes, THANKS! This is fluffy and cheesy and I love it, hope you do too. Remember feedback is highly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by xthismeanswar

London had never been quieter. Not a single criminal dared to show up in the past week – or at least not one Sherlock cared about.

With his fiddle in hand and a melody on his head, Sherlock played for hours and hours throughout the morning. His feet with move along the music as he followed his girlfriend around the flat, making sure to keep his eyes on her at every moment.

(Y/N) was tiding it up a little since neither Sherlock nor John would do it.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Sherlock spoke as he waltzed his way closer to her.

“I know, I just… Need to kill time, I guess.” Sherlock tilted his head.

“Anxiety?” She shook her head.

“Maybe I’m just bored.” Sherlock smiled warmly at her.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one getting bored here.” He said.

“Bored? You?” (Y/N) let out a fake laugh, “As far as I can tell you’re having a blast with your instrument.”

Sherlock didn’t reply with words but rather changing the tune to a faster one.

“Show off.” She hissed jokingly and moved to his room, where she picked up the dirty clothes and dusted the furniture.

Sherlock couldn’t help but to notice something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it because it was such a slight change in her – and a good kind of change – that deducing it would take him hours. And that’s why he was following her.

She was resplendent yet she looked tired. “Why are you tired?”

(Y/N) looked up at him; she had been dragged out of her thoughts. “Sorry?”

“Why are you tired?” Sherlock repeated, “Last night we did… We did sleep late but we always do.”

“Maybe it’s all this cleaning.” (Y/N) suggested.

“You’ve followed me on cases that could get anyone tired after five minutes without even flinching, it’s not the cleaning.” Sherlock observed. He stopped playing and stood still, following her every move.

“Maybe I’m getting old.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow.

“Impossible.” He stated, “If you were getting old I would be too and I’m feeling great.”

“We are getting old.” She emphasized, “With each second that passes.”

Sherlock sighed heavily and continued to play. (Y/N) excused herself and left to the bathroom. It was the fifth time she went and it wasn’t even close to mid-day.

Sherlock stopped playing once again and walked back to the living room where John was sitting and reading a newspaper.

“There’s something off about her.” Sherlock whispered without even looking at his friend but rather keeping his ice blue eyes glued to the bathroom door.

Watson, who knew exactly what was going on, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and changed the page. He had been pretending to read the whole morning, for he knew it would be impossible for him not to react.

“You’ve read this newspaper three times already.” Sherlock observed.

“I like to re-read… Make sure everything sticks to my mind.” John replied.

“Guess that’s a method that works for common minds.” John couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, “But honestly, John, can’t you see? There’s something off about her.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Sherlock, not mine.” John beamed.

“She’s your friend, and you’re a doctor.” John sighed and scratched the corner of his eyes.

“She’s not sick.”

“How can you tell?” John inquired, “Did you check her body temperature? Her blood pressure? Her…”

“She’s fine!” John assured. Sherlock, of course, didn’t buy it and waited patiently for her to get out.

Keep reading

crumbling- h.s imagine

You let out a sigh as you glanced at the clock hung up on the wall. Joanne, your marriage counselor stared at you with sympathy in her eyes. She reached out from across the table in between the two of you and placed her hand on top of yours, “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m afraid our time is up.”

You looked down at your hands and shook your head. You let out a mumbled, “Thank you for your time” before you grabbed your purse and left her office. Joanne stared after you and let out a sigh herself. “Katy, grab my 1:00 appointment, please.” She called out to her assistant.

As you waited for your destination on the elevator, you pulled out your phone hoping to see something from Harry. When you were greeted with nothing, you pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes tightly. As you sat in your car, you pulled out your phone once more and dialed a number you’ve been familiar with for the past couple of weeks.  “Hey Jake. Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’ll grab the papers today.”

Harry let out a curse as he saw the bedroom light was still on when he pulled up in the driveway. He was hoping you were asleep so he didn’t have to listen to you complaining about how he should’ve been there today. Harry tried to be there today, really he did. But he had to approve his album cover, he needed to put some last minute touches on some songs; he was a busy man today. Harry ran his hands through his hair as he debated whether or not he should pick up some flowers, just to soften the blow. He shook his head. He had to face the consequences that were yet to come.  

One word that you would use to describe your marriage with Harry was crumbling. It was amazing the first few years. Harry made you feel loved and made sure you were cherished. You made sure you showed Harry nothing but continuos support and just as much love. When the band split up, it was hard for Harry. One Direction was like his baby, it made him the man he is today. You remember how upset Harry was once the news broke to the fans. You remember Harry telling you that this changed everything. You remained positive for him. You told him things were going to be okay and that this was just a bump in the road. You made sure you told him that his fans were forever and they’ll love him no matter what he decides.

When Harry decided to audition for a movie role, you were nothing but excited for him. You made sure he was well rested before his audition and you made sure you helped him read his lines. When he got the role, you were dying of happiness. When he had to leave to film, you, being the supportive wife you were,  travelled alongside him. You dropped everything just to see your husband pursuing a new passion of his.

When Harry decided to go to Jamaica to focus solely on his debut album, you agreed. You told him that if he felt this was the right decision then this was the right decision.

You tried being the supportive wife. You tried lifting Harry’s spirits when your own was down. You tried reaming positive and just being what Harry needed during these crucial times in his life.

But you couldn’t say the same was being done for you. There were times when Harry wasn’t there for you for special events in your life like going back home to see your family or being your date for your sister’s wedding. There were times where you had doubts in your marriage and you tried. You tried so badly to remain optimistic. You tried telling yourself that he was busy with his album, you tried telling yourself that he was filming a movie and that he couldn’t drop everything. You tried putting your emotions aside in hopes of Harry never finding out how sad you were.

But you can only bottle up something so much that it just explodes.

Harry wiped his face before he leaned back on the couch. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs before he asked, “Are you asking for a divorce?”

You quickly looked up. “No! Never! I would never ask for a divorce.” You made your way over to Harry and sat down on his lap. You stared into his beautiful eyes that held nothing but sadness and tears. You gently whispered, “Something just needs to change.”

After that, the two of you decided it was best to seek a marriage counselor. It was definitely a hard choice to make but the two of you decided that it was best to talk out whatever problems there were then really letting things escalate. And going to couples therapy was great at first. The two of you felt like with time, things might actually turn around.

Until Harry started missing sessions. It was always one excuse after another. You tried to be forgiving and you tried to make it seem ok that he was missing the meetings but your heart broke more and more each time he skipped. It sucked being in that office yourself. You hated the feeling of your therapist staring at you with sympathy. You hated being asked why did you think Harry decided to bail. You hated every single minute of being there and feeling like you were alone. You hated that you were the one that put all the effort into this marriage. You hated that you had to remain brave. You hated crying alone. You hated the thought of Harry no longer loving you. You hated every single minute of it.

You were staring at your reflection in your sanity mirror in your shared bedroom with Harry. You noticed all the bags under your eyes and how puffy they were with how much you cried tonight. You wondered, “How did I get here? How could something that once was so beautiful crumble into something so tragic?” As you were pondering your thoughts, in the reflection you saw the bedroom door open. Harry had an ashamed look on his face.

He closed the door behind him before he turned to you. “Y/N, love, I’m so sorry.” You continued to stare at Harry. You bit on your bottom lip as you drowned at the pathetic excuse he was coming up with. Your eyes glanced at your wedding ring that was sitting in a little jewelry dish next to you. You let out a little scoff at how ironic it seemed to you. Isn’t that ring supposed to represent happiness? Yet all you felt was despair.

Hesitatingly. Harry walked closer to you. He tried to decipher what was going in that beautiful mind of yours. “Love?”

Slowly, you turned around in your seat. Your eyes were staring at Harry’s shoes, afraid that if you looked up into his eyes that the words would never fall out of your mouth. “I want a divorce.” You whispered.

You said it so quietly and so gently that you were sure Harry didn’t hear you. But the gasp that fell out of his lips proved otherwise. Harry bent down so that he was looking up at you. He placed his hands on top of yours. “Love, no.”

You shook your head as you closed your eyes, trying so badly to not let out a sob. Harry’s eyes started to fill with tears of his own. “Y/N! Please! I’ll change! I’ll go to the meetings! We can go every fucking day! Please!”

You let out a shaky sigh as tears began to cascade down your cheeks. Where was this when you needed to hear it the most? You finally looked into Harry’s eyes and completely lost it. You hated yourself for the hurt you saw in his eyes. “I’m not happy anymore, Harry.”

Hearing you say that felt like a direct bullet to Harry’s heart. He winced as if he was in actual pain. Hearing you say that meant he was a failure of a husband. He shook his head quickly, as if he was trying to get the thought out of his head. “You’re just upset with me and I get it. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t mean it.”

You tried to defend your decision before Harry got up. He ran his hands through his hair. “We just need to sleep it off. You’re hurt, I’m hurt. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom, alright? We just need to sleep it off” Harry tried convincing himself. He bent down once more and placed a soft kiss on your lips before he walked out of your room.

You stared at the door before you wrapped your arms around yourself and let out the sob that was trying to read its way out.

That night was the quietest the house has ever been. Both you and Harry were laying in separate beds, wondering how your marriage got to this, while tears fled your eyes. Harry wanted to do nothing but hold you and to convince you that this was just another rough patch and that you guys were going to get through this. You wanted Harry to come to his senses when you said that you weren’t happy. You wanted him to realize that you’ve been trying for a very long time and that you couldn’t take it anymore.

The next morning, Harry walked downstairs and into the kitchen. You were sitting at the dining room table, a cup of tea in your hands. He noticed instantly how red your eyes were the puffiness of your cheeks. You looked up at Harry before you walked over to your purse that was on the counter. Harry was watching your every move intently, afraid to make a sound.

You pulled out the divorce papers before you looked up at Harry. You placed the papers down on the table before you walked past him and went back into your room. With shaky hands, Harry picked up the papers. He let out a sob and fell to the floor.

You were filing for a divorce.


out of everything i’ve written recently, i actually really enjoyed writing this! it’s been in my drafts for the longest time and i’m glad im finally sharing it! let me know what you guys thought!

you can find all my writing here