ten it around

Shutter Speed Ch. 9

This chapter is dedicated to @allskynostars. Happy birthday girl!!

Also big thanks to @darkjuggie for helping me with it.

Please let me know what you think!

Ch 8 | AO3


People say there’s nothing worse than waking up with a hangover, but those people have obviously never woken up with a hangover while remembering the stupid things you said the night before.

Jughead had hardly slept through the night. He sat in bed thinking the entire scenario over, replaying what he said and her reaction towards it. Regret flooded his entire body the second she ran away, and Jughead isn’t sure how he was going to fix it.

He hears noise coming from the kitchen at around ten, Archie probably getting ready to go to the gym, which he has the tendency to do. Jughead rolls out of bed and walks out, running a hand through his hair as he walks into the kitchen. Archie is digging through the fridge dressed in his workout gear when Jughead walks in, yawning a good morning. Archie looks up at him, pulling out the orange juice.

“Hey Jug, how’d you sleep?” Archie asks, pouring some orange juice into a glass. Jughead rubs his eyes and sits at the table, leaning his head against the wall.

“I hate myself,” is all Jughead says. Archie stops mid-drink, looking at him. He sighs, putting the glass down before sitting across from Jughead at the table.

“Listen, I know you messed up, but you were drunk. You couldn’t really help it. And it’s not like you were, you know, gross about it, she can’t be mad,” Archie says, sounding earnest. Jughead sighs and looks at the ceiling, shaking his head.

“It’s gonna be so awkward, though. I can’t hide from this,” Jughead mutters, looking at his friend. Archie’s eyes look sad, but he forces a tight lipped smile.

“It’ll be alright,” Archie tells him. Jughead wants to believe him, but he can’t in his current state. He nods anyways, Archie accepting it and standing up from the table. “Oh, your phone is in your coat pocket, by the way. I heard it going off just before you woke up, might wanna check that.”

Jughead nods and gets up from the table, walking into the living room where he left his coat last night. He takes his phone out of the pocket and opens it to three text messages, all from Betty.

We haven’t had a shoot in two weeks and I know you have a deadline coming up so I propose a road trip because I need to get out of the city and you probably do too and I’ve been wanting to go to this one place for ages

I just realized you’re probably asleep

Okay it’s been an hour I’m coming over since you’re not gonna answer, see you soon

“Shit,” Jughead mutters, eyes wide. The text was sent fifteen minutes ago, meaning he doesn’t have much time until she shows up. “Shit, shit, shit.”

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Study hack: Have an essay/late night study sesh but can’t focus? Slap on a sheet mask. The cooling sensation wakes you up, and it also acts as a timer– put on the mask, work 20/30 minutes, take it off. Now you’re refreshed and ready to keep working!

These masks are by Tonymoly and a packet of ten on Amazon cost around eleven dollars, or even less depending on the retailer (shipping takes awhile)

ig: totes.notes

Hey im just wondering

Yo know how Nanu in Pokemon Sun/Moon lives with like 12 meowths? And also there’s a lady on one of the routes in… Akala, I think, who lives with like 8 stufful?

Reblog this and put in the tags which single pokemon you’d adopt like 10 of and contentedly live with. Bonus points if you say why and what you’d do with them. I’m curious…

Please answer.

“Shall We Dance” - Digital Oil Painting

I love the way this one turned out, all the little details like the hair and the lace and the fabric folds! I also love that you can interpret this as different BP and DT characters. She could be Lily, but she could also be Rose, all pink and yellow, after convincing the Doctor to actually stay for the party in their honor and their hosts provided them with appropriate clothing. She just caught him looking at her cleavage during their dance and he’s fumbling for an excuse or apology, he’s not sure which, while continuing to look-notlook. Hehe! Feel free to use as inspiration for fic, if you want!

If you enjoy my art, please consider subscribing to my Patreon! I am saving for a wheelchair lift and new battery.

New and emerging cryptid: people who have watched all of Critical Role.

10

“You have fought many battles in your life. You’re about to fight another. But this time, it will be different. This time, Sarah Jane… you lose.”
- The Sarah Jane Adventures, s02e03 Secrets of the Stars

2

Minerva is an old lady who survived probably around ten years on the streets whilst being blind in her left eye, having half a tail, and a thyroid condition. Despite this she has the softest fur of any cat I have ever touched??
Likes is chicken and yelling, dislikes is taking her thyroid medicine. Sorry these selfies are not unflattering, as it impossible for Mina not to be perfect looking at all times.

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.

It was three days into their stay in Thailand when Yuuri finally woke up earlier than Viktor.

He savoured those times, they happened so rarely. Viktor was often out of bed before Yuuri had even started to stir. Like this he had unimpeded time to study the small flutters of his eyelashes, the slight furrow on his brow that disappeared when Yuuri ran a comforting hand down his side, how his arms tightened around Yuuri when he shifted to keep him in place.

He could never look enough. No matter how much, how often, it would never be enough. Gently, still careful about not waking him, he ran the tips of his fingers from the cut of his jaw, the graceful line of his neck, and over his shoulders before pausing. Viktor sighed. Accent thicker from having just woken up, he asked, “I was enjoying that. Why did you stop?”

Yuuri didn’t answer, still staring at the skin of his shoulders. “Yuuri?”

“You have freckles,” he said, hearing the quiet awe in his voice.

Viktor took his right hand where it was motionless on his shoulder and kissed it, his eyes sliding shut again. “Mm. Only if I’ve been in the sun too long.”

He was saying it so casually, as if it wasn’t one of the best things Yuuri had ever learnt. Granted, he thought that of most mundane things he learnt about Viktor, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to stop. He considered kissing them all one by one, even if there were so many it would probably take hours. Reluctantly settling for around ten instead, he mumbled “I love them,” against another few. Viktor’s chest was shaking, probably laughing at his little display, but looking so delighted when Yuuri met his eyes that he couldn’t complain.

Let's Pretend (Bucky Barnes x Reader) ♡

A/N: I got the name from one of the clothes shops of Saints Row V lol. I plan on making at least two more parts to this, I’m halfway through part two and have the beginning of part three in the works! ^_^. I’m sorry if there’s any misspelling, I get too excited and I tend to rush. Feedback is hella appreciated! - D.

Let’s Pretend: Tony finds a website of two shape shifting mutant porn stars who make their living impersonating the Avengers on their website and decide to show the team.

WARNING: Graphic details of sex. Swearing. Soon-to-be-smut. Second hand embarrassment lol.

Series Masterlist 

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