than you could have dreamed possible

tori-ayne  asked:

Did you see Wonder Woman? The fighting that the Amazons did was extremely choreographic and really beautiful to watch for a plebeian like me, but did it seem grounded in reality?

There’s nothing about Wonder Woman that’s grounded in reality. This is an intentional design decision and, to be fair, the likes of Atomic Blonde and Haywire aren’t either. In Haywire’s case, it’s because what makes for a good MMA fight is about as far from SpecOps as you can get.

The combat seen in Wonder Woman is stylistically designed to be superhuman because Diana and the Amazons are superhuman. They’re immortal, godlike beings who live on a paradise island hidden from the rest of the world. Their combat style and choreography emphasizes that aspect of their characters. It’s part of the visual storytelling ongoing to show us who and what they are.

Wonder Woman is the sort of archetypal character meant to inspire, who we look up at in wonder, who inspires us to be better, and to believe in ourselves.

The combat isn’t grounding in reality and it doesn’t need to be. In reality, we can’t reflect bullets with gauntlets and walking across No Man’s Land with just a shield would just lead to Diana’s legs being shot out from under her by a gatling gun. Realism isn’t the point of the movie though. Besides that, Wonder Woman is no more realistic than Captain America fighting Nazis with a shield or Batman doing whatever Batman does in the Dark Knight. Or Athena kicking Ares keister in the Illiad.

Wonder Woman walking into the No Man’s Land is thematic not realistic, and that’s the same for the movie’s fight choreography. Hear it: Wonder Woman walks into No Man’s Land. You don’t even need the visual to feel a sense of awe. This woman walking where soldiers are scared to go.

This is archetypal, mythic storytelling with mythic heroes.

The problem is that “grounded in reality” has become the new version of “believable” or “suspension of disbelief” or “relateable” except with much more restrictive rules. Usually because this justification is really “I don’t like it, therefore”. Used more often to shut down conversation than start it, because “realism” sounds more legitimate than personal preference or inherent bias. If you’re ever in a discussion with someone and they can’t elaborate on why it isn’t “realistic” with a genre that was never about realism anyway, then you can usually say this is why.

Realism as an argument gets brought up a lot with superheroes, and the idea that anything in the superhero genre (and this includes superspies) is real is laughable. It’s called “superhero fiction” for a reason, and DC’s heroes from the Gold and Silver Age are all archetypal, mythic heroes who are better than humanity and through which we find the best of ourselves.

What’s real are the emotions and beliefs Wonder Woman inspires in you, the sense of awe, the wonder, and the hope. To hope for and fight for a better future than the one we see before us. To inspire our dreams so we find the courage to chase them. To look up at the stars instead of down at our feet. To believe we’ll find victory so long as we keep getting up again. To remind us we can change the world.

Sometimes, we just need freedom reality’s constraints to find the best in ourselves. Inspire us to see who we could be, beyond what we’ve previously believed to be possible.

You know how many glorious scientific inventions we have because of science fiction? Like hoverboards from Back to the Future. Or flip phones from Star Trek. They weren’t grounded in reality either when they were imagined. There was only the possibility they might, maybe exist… someday.

When discussing anything creative try and remember this: no is not a shut down nor does it remove the idea’s value. Rather, any explanation on the subject is meant to help us gain a better understanding of the subject. The more we know then the more choices become available, and we’re able to pick the one best for us. 

The choreographers, directors, and producers who put together the Amazon’s combat style are people who have a firm grasp of how combat is supposed to work both onscreen and off it. They chose this route because what we see on screen is representative of the themes they had in mind and the story they were trying to tell. It was intentional, not accidental. They knew what they wanted.

The point is don’t be discouraged from chasing after a feeling or a dream just because fiction is what inspired you. The difference between fantasy and reality is the will we have to take ourselves there.


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There’s no use dwelling on what could have been… It’s not a reality, nor will it ever be. It may have been a hope, a dream or a possibility once – but now it exists only in your mind. It is now nothing more than smoke from the flicker of hope that has been blown out… a dream you once had that has now become a haunting nightmare and it’s time to face the fact that any possibility of happiness now lies in front of you – not behind.
So don’t let it torture you any longer.
Stop punishing yourself for the chances not taken, the choices not made and the road not traveled… Look around you at what you still have… look ahead to all the potential futures that still exist for you… You’ve already missed an opportunity once – don’t dwell on it so much you end up missing another that was right in front of you all along… if only you’d opened your eyes and seen it…
All Too Well (M) | Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU
Word Count: 6,061
Author’s Note: I always wanted to try my hand on a Yoongi chapter story, and then I saw this prompt on tumblr and decided to go with it. I also want to note up ahead that I’m not super familiar with how the recruiting process for Kpop groups go and my knowledge only extends to really quick skims of articles just to get the basis. Regardless, I hope I can get to more parts, so let me know what you think.

also idk if this should be considered a prologue or a part 1 but oh well im just leaving it as part 1


You suppose that it all starts and ends with a letter.

Dear Mr. Min Yoongi,” Your boyfriend reads across the kitchen counter, fingers curling tightly around the paper in his hands, eyes blown wide with a gaze depicting such rare intensity that you’ve actually stopped fixing your morning coffee just to catch a sight of his expression. You can’t entirely place the feeling weighing itself into your stomach, so you settle with staring at him and trying to keep your own facial features as neutral as possible. “We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the final audition at our label and therefore are officially recruited into our newest group Bangtan Boys. You are going to be one of seven other boys joining our label as trainees and we are excited to finally bring everyone together to prepare for debut. Although training won’t officially start until next week, we ask that you come to the studio tomorrow morning to meet the other members as well as be prepped on our expectations and scheduling. We wish to congratulate you on your hard work and look forward to getting to know you more in the coming years. Sincerely, Big Hit Studios.”

When Yoongi doesn’t react immediately to the positive news, you flicker your gaze up to study him. His eyes, once again, are scanning the paper, quicker and quicker with each line as if he didn’t read it or hear it correctly the first time around. His eyes have grown to the size of saucers at this point, and you would have thought him to be a statue had it not been for the rather loud inhales and exhales coming from the boy. The sight itself would have been rather comical had it not been for the context behind the stare.

So you try for a gentle smile, leaning a little on the counter to try and further gauge his expression. “Yoongi?” You inquire softly, reaching a hand across the space to run your hand along his shoulder blade. “Baby, are you alright?”

Yoongi blinks, snapping himself out of his trance as he shifts his gaze from the letter to you, back to the letter, and back to you. “I did it?” He whispers, the statement sounding more like a question above anything else and you find your lips curling up into a fond smile in light of Yoongi’s confusion—even though he was the one to read the letter multiple times, running over the words in his own mind repeatedly.

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The Council [Chapter 1: The Body]

Originally posted by timetoemptythetrash

Chapter 1: The Body

A/N: Mature series. Mentions of crime, death, violence & sex.

Mini Masterlist

Standard work hours are long over but your profession is far from ordinary. It is in the dead of night where the true monsters come out to play, feeding and existing only in the shadows. It is there, hidden that they find their strength.

You are no stranger to such a lifestyle. Just as they do, you live under a dark sheath, thinly cloaked by nothing more than a name that is not your own to protect you.

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7/11/1804 (Alexander/Reader, Lin/Reader)

Summary: You had expected that your first night in the role of Eliza would be an exciting one. You hadn’t expected a door to appear in your dressing room that would lead you over 200 years into the past. No, none of your Broadway friends had ever warned you about that.

Note: Write-a-thon Day 3! This is loosely based on 11/22/63 by Stephen King, wherein the main character goes back in time to prevent JFK’s assassination. So you see where this is going. This is part 1 out of 2.

Rating: G

Word Count: 2651

Keep reading


Hi @taylorswift​ yesterday was an incredible day!! My mom was finally able to take me to look at Prom dresses for my 25th Birthday Party!! I know she enjoyed it so much because she never got to go prom dress shopping with me in high school. The smile on her face as I was trying on the dresses, I almost wanted to cry because she just wants me to be happy and have the best!! I love her so much!! I tried on so many but I kept coming back to this dress and I decided this is the one!!! I felt so beautiful and happy in it!! As I was wearing the dress, I thought to myself “I think Taylor would wear something like this!” It is the dress I would have probably worn to prom if I could have gone. Now I get to wear it at my birthday prom!! I can’t wait!! @taylorswift I hope you will be able to make it to my Birthday Prom on Sat, June 24th 2017 @ 7pm!!! I know my mom would be so happy knowing her little girl had one of her biggest dreams to come true!!! It’s going to be the prom I have always dreamed of, where I feel confident in how I look and stronger than I have ever been!! You helped me become who I am today with your encouraging words and loving actions!! I would love to be able to dance the night away with you in my beautiful dress at my party!!! Thank you for all you have done and I hope I will be able to thank you in person soon!! I will never let that dream go because I know one day it could be possible!!! That day will be a great day!!! Love you Tay :)

Btw Taylor this dress has pockets!! I think you would appreciate that extra awesomeness to the dress ;)

~ Suzy W 

Onsra | Part I

(v.) – to love for the last time; a bittersweet feeling of knowing a love won’t last

Words: 2.6K

Genre: Demon au, soon-to-have: some angst, smut(?)

Read: Part 1 | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

A/N: Can’t wait for you guys to read this~ It was pretty fun writing the first chapter. More to come. Also my Jungkook feels, I can’t…

His lips hovered over yours for a brief moment before traveling down your jaw, then down your neck. The hairs stood almost immediately as his hot breath touched your skin. His lips finally found your shoulder as they pressed down firmly. You wanted to scream but your voice was caught in your throat. You wanted to push him off of you but it was like you were paralyzed; your hands laying neatly next to your body, fingers incapable of moving…

Who are you? Why are you doing this?

He smirked against your skin before bringing his fingers up and tilting your chin towards him. His mouth was mere centimeters away from yours as he whispered against your lips.

“You know me. You forget who you belong to. Y/N…” Your eyes widened as they made eye contact with the boy above you. Unfamiliar dark eyes bore into yours before they turned a bright red. Just then you felt a burning sensation in your shoulder as you opened your mouth to cry out in pain. “Scream and deny me all you want. No one will have you but me. You are mine, Y/N… all mine.”

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Title: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Depravity 
Fandom: Pretty Little Liars
Characters: Spencer Hastings, Aria Montgomery, Alex Drake, Hanna Marin, Emily Fields, Alison DiLaurentis, Ezra Fitz, etc
Paring: Sparia/Arlex, Emison, Hanna/kick in the ass (eventual Vandermarin)
Summary: What would happen if Alex Drake was in love with Aria Montgomery? Well, she is. And it’s about goddamn time Alex got what she deserved.

Just wait, you guys..

The only other time Spencer could remember having this severe of a headache was a week after she and the others had been rescued from Charlotte’s twisted dollhouse. At the time, she had thought the worst of this whole fucking ‘A’ fiasco was over, but this? This was more insane than anything she could have come up with in even her most warped dreams. She had just found out she another goddamn sister, no –– an identical twin sister –– and the bitch had kidnapped her.

“Spencer!” Alex’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Spencer’s head snapped in her sister’s direction.

“What?” Spencer deadpanned. “What could you possibly want?”

“Well now, there’s no need to be so rude. I thought we were becoming friends,” Alex snickered. Her thick accent made Spencer’s head spin and her stomach twist in anxious knots. “Anyhow…” Alex sat back down in her chair and leaned against the wall, propping her legs up in the same position she’d been in when Spencer had first woken up. “Who’s your best mate?”

“What?” Spencer asked, eyeing Alex warily. She was so tired and her head was throbbing. Surely this was all just a crazy dream, right?

Alex rolled her eyes. “For someone so smart, you’re a bit dull, aren’t you? Your best mate.”  Alex tilted her head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “You got lots of ‘em, you know? There’s the blonde one..”

“Hanna?” Spencer sighed. The knot in her stomach tightened.

“No, no. Not the fat one. The other one.”

Spencer flinched. “Hanna is not fat,” she snapped. “And the other blonde you’re thinking of is Alison, but that is as much as you’re going to talk about my friends. Keep their names out of your mouth.”

Alex grinned at her. “Ah, right. Hanna, Alison, Emily,” she listed each one with a tick off her fingers. “And the little one.”

The knot in Spencer’s stomach coiled, and bile bubbled in her stomach. “Aria,” she all but whispered.

Alex met Spencer’s gaze and her lips curled up into a sly smile. “Aria,” she repeated. “ I rather like her.”

Spencer glared at her. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

Alex tilted her chair back and forth before standing up and letting it clatter to the floor behind her. She crossed the room and sat down on Spencer’s bed, delighted when Spencer moved away from her. “For as long as I want,” she said in a uh, duh, tone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. I believe Miss Montgomery is waiting for her fiancé, but…” She exited the small room and hit a button on the wall opposite to Spencer’s room. The mechanic doors slid open with a whoosh, and revealed another person lying on a cot identical to Spencer’s. Only the person passed out on it was..

“Ezra!” Spencer cried out. “What the hell have you done to him?” Ezra was unconscious, and even from a distance Spencer could see the bloody wound on the side of his head. His face and the parts of his hands that she could see were covered in nasty cuts and bruises.

Alex shrugged, looking down at Ezra’s unconsciously form carelessly. “He’s rather annoying,” she simpered.

Alex,” Spencer spat. “You can’t do this! You can’t kidnap people and hold them against their will!”

“Charlotte did,” Alex scoffed. She hit the buttons on the electronic keyboard to lock Spencer’s door and smirked at her through the air holes. She cleared her throat locked eyes with Spencer. “I think you should wear your hair up for the funeral.”

All the air left Spencer’s lungs and she sprang up so fast she almost fell over. It earned a snicker out of Alex, and Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Funeral?” her voice came out high-pitched and fast. “A funeral for whom?”

A funeral for whom,” Alex mocked.

Spencer shivered. Alex sounded just like her.  Even though they were twins, Spencer was hoping for some kind of identifier that would separate the two of them. “No one will believe you,” she called out before she could stop herself. “My friends will never believe you’re me. If you think you can get away with this…”

Alex hummed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, honey.” Her eyes turned cold and her voice sharp. “I already have.”

By the time Alex had arrived at the altar, worry over Ezra’s disappearance had gone full swing. The guests were restless, whispering amongst themselves as their fingers flying over their phone screen’s keyboards –– obviously posting about what a tragedy it was that the groom had seemingly stood up the bride –– and Alex thought it was hilarious. She breezed past the anxious guests and slipped through the back door to the lobby where she knew she would find Aria and the others.

“Spencer, there you are! Where have you been?” Hanna was at her side in an instant, her expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “One of your best friends is going through an existential crisis, and you decide to pull a Houdini?”

Alex sighed. “Sorry,” she said. “The law firm called. I had to take a call.” She rushed over to a crying Aria and crouched down next to her, putting a comforting hand on her knee. “Are you OK? I can’t believe Ezra would do this..”

“Maybe he’s hurt? I’m sure he wouldn’t intentionally do this to you, Aria. He loves you.” Emily offered weakly. She and Alison stood side by side, each bouncing one of their daughters on their hips.

Alex rubbed Aria’s knee in a comforting gesture and stood up, arms outstretched. “Can I hold her? You look like you could use a break.”

Emily smiled gratefully and passed her daughter off to her friend. “Thanks, Spence. That’s Lily. I’ll be right back. I just need to use the bathroom.”

Alex cradled Lily in her arms, cooing down at her. Merlin, she looks just Wren. And to think that ungrateful bitch carried around these poor dears. Her eyes flitted up to Alison, and she shot her a soft smile, which was returned immediately. Bloody idiot. Baby Lily grasped at her finger and Alex grinned. It really as a shame poor Wren would never meet his daughters, but that was the price he paid for going against her.

“What if he’s really hurt?” Aria’s broken voice tore through her. “What if he’s dead?”

Alex fought the urge to snort. She shifted Lily to her other hip and ran her fingers through the baby’s thin hair.

“Spencer?” A hand touched her shoulder, and Alex jumped, whirling around.

“Whoa!” Emily held up her hands mockingly in self-defense. “Can I have Lily? Ali and I are going to take the girls for a walk around outside to try to get them down for a nap. We don’t know when…” she trailed off and glanced in the direction of Aria. “You know..”

“Sure, Em. I’d be happy to take them on their walk if you want?” Alex offered, her tone hopeful yet casual.

Emily shook her head. “It’s fine, really. They can get pretty restless when they’re tired.”  She walked over to the girls’ stroller and strapped Lily in a seat. Alison followed suit with Grace.

“Hanna? Wanna come with us?” Emily asked.

“No,” Hanna grumbled sourly.

“We’d like it if you came with us,” Alison added, with a pointed look.


As soon as they were alone, Alex plopped down next to Aria. Aria’s eyes were red and puffy; her cheeks stained with old and fresh tears. “Hey, it’s okay. Look, Ezra will show up eventually. He’s probably just got cold feet. It’s very common for men to doubt the marriage on the day of more than women. That or he got lost in a bookstore,” she joked.

A small laugh escaped Aria and she sniffled, resting her head on Spencer’s shoulder. The two interlaced fingers automatically, and she felt Spencer squeeze her hand affectionately. “I’m so stupid,” she mumbled. “To actually believe I could have a happy ending..”

A flash of annoyance shot through Alex. Obviously Aria had every right to be upset, but she was trying to create a moment here, and the Aria could only focus on Humbert Humbert’s younger brother. “You’re not stupid,” she said softly. “Aria, you are one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. It’s Ezra who is the stupid one. He’s an idiot.”

Aria lifted her head up, surprised. She knew Spencer wasn’t the biggest fan of their relationship, but she had never been so blunt before; that job usually fell upon Hanna. “What?”

Alex swallowed. Shit. “I mean, he’s an idiot for leaving you like this,” she back-peddled.  “You don’t deserve this.”

Aria opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut. She knew Spencer was right. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered quietly. “I just…maybe he changed his mind, and he decided he really can’t stay with a barren woman.”

Alex’s nostrils flared. “Then he is a goddamn moron, Aria! If you think he would leave you because of an unforeseen, biological anomaly, then he really fucking doesn’t deserve you. Any man who would leave his girlfriend or wife just because she can’t bear his lonely sperm deserves to be strung up and hanged.” The words flew out of her mouth before Alex could stop herself, and she smacked her lips together.

Aria’s eyes widened. She wasn’t used to hearing Spencer swear so much. Alison was actually the most vulgar of their group. “Wow..”

Alex winced. “I-I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m just…angry. I’m so angry that he would do this to you. I didn’t think he actually had the balls..”

There was a brief moment of silence before Aria burst into giggles. She leaned against Spencer and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I can always count on you, Spence. You always know how to make a girl feel better.”

Alex’s heart slammed against her chest and she lifted Aria’s chin so their eyes locked. Aria’s eyes were wet with tears, but still shone bright. “I will always be here for you, Aria. We’re Team Sparia, remember?” The word felt weird leaving her tongue, like was a nasty phrase one should never say. No doubt Spencer came up with this stupid gem…

“Always,” Aria hooked her pinky through Spencer’s. “I love Team Sparia.”

“And I love you,” Alex murmured against Aria’s ear.

For some reason the comment made Aria shiver. Spencer’s breath was warm on her skin. “I love you, too, Spence.”

The phrase didn’t hit Alex like she thought it would. Instead it kind of stung. Of course, Aria thought she was talking to Spencer. She was about to answer when Hanna, Alison and Emily returned with the girls, who were asleep in their stroller.

Alex glanced at the wall on the clock. Bullocks. I suppose I should go feed the little bastards. Can’t have ‘em dying on me. “Is anyone hungry? I’m going on a coffee run. Does anyone want their usual?”

“I’ll come with you.” Hanna grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

“No!” Alex said, much too quickly. Eight pairs of eyes fell on her. “I mean,” she swallowed, “it’s fine, Han. You should stay here, okay? It’s just easier if one of us leaves. People might start to get more antsy than they already off if they see the bridesmaids leaving in pairs..”

Disappointment flashed across Hanna’s face, but she sighed and settled into a chair. “You’re right. I don’t want everyone to freak out. Half of them probably think Ezra is dead in a ditch anyway.”

“Hanna!” Emily and Alison hissed in unison.

A smirk tugged at Alex’s lips. Maybe she’s not such an idiot after all.. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised. Before anyone could say anything else, Alex scampered off.

When she arrived back at her hideout, Ezra was still unconscious and Spencer was sitting on her bed, just staring at the wall. She let herself in Spencer’s cell. Spencer barely glanced up at her.

“Aw, come now. Don’t I get a greeting?” Alex asked slipping back into her accent. “Are all Americans this rude?”

Spencer snorted. “I don’t think you have any room to gripe about politeness when you’re holding two people against their will. I’ve been to London, so I know it’s not common treatment. You just must be a bitch.”

Alex smirked. “Oh, love. I know you’ve been to London.” She sauntered over to Spencer and bent down so the two were eye level. “If I were you I would be more gracious to your host. Did you know the human body can go three weeks without food, but only three days without water?” She ruffled Spencer’s hair. “Think about that while I get your food, yeah?”

Spencer blinked. “What?” she gasped. “How the hell do you know I’ve been to London?”

Alex was already halfway out the door, but she paused and looked back at Spencer over her shoulder. She tapped her fingers lightly against the frame of the doorway and sighed almost blissfully, like she was recalling a wonderful memory.

“How do you think the vials of blood got in your bag? Not much of a thinker, are ya?”

Spencer’s face turned ashen. “T-that was you?”

“Brilliant move, wasn’t it?”  Alex shrugged and pursed her lips. “It was rather a delight to watch. I even have your reaction on camera. Would you like to see?”

Spencer sat there, mouth agape. She exhaled and pressed her fingers to her temples. “You’re truly unbelievable..”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Alex winked at Spencer and punched in the code on the keypad. And then she was gone, and Spencer was left staring at the space where Alex had just stood, her heart pounding and her hope for freedom slowly dissipating.

What did you guys think?! Please leave reviews in my inbox or just comment on this thread! <3 More to come

Aiight! First off, hello! So this is something I’ve been “dream chasing” after for a while now and wanted to ask a few things! I’m a young cartoonist looking for a sort of occupation this year and wanted to build up the courage to ask if there’s a chance for me to help you make a few merchandise designs for you? You recently said that you have wanted to do more charity work and putting more stuff up on your shop so I figured if it was possible I’d be more than happy to do some stuff for you! This up here is just a quick sketch but I have other more decent drawings up on different medias ( which some you’ve seen before ) that I would really love to have a chat and see if there’s some things I can do! You always told us to chase our opportunities, dreams, and goals so I guess now I’m starting to chase after mine, haha. I’d really appreciate it if you could get back to me on this! Thank you Jack :D

Hogwarts Headcanons #1

Bored Ravenclaws going in and out of their common room to get a new riddle every time for entertainment, then recording the answers for future reference.

• Gryffindor + Slytherin friendships that are stronger than any bond you could ever dream of

• Hufflepuffs being sarcastic and witty, surprising everyone outside of their house who never thought it possible

• The biggest gossips are found in Slytherin- but they always try to deny it

• Some Gryffindors that would rather have a chill day than go out partying or adventuring every once in a while

• Alternatively, there are some Ravenclaws that realize that street-smarts are just as important as book-smarts and enjoy an evening or two out.

• A Slytherin that dreads doing their homework or studying because they’re convinced they already know everything there is to know

• Fierce Hufflepuffs who have always got their friends’ backs

• A Ravenclaw + Slytherin relationship is actually the most dangerous if you’re on their bad side because you have someone to think of a plan for revenge and someone to execute it

• Speaking of which, Ravenclaws holding grudges just as fiercely as Slytherins are known to do

• A Gryffindor that needs to be pushed out of their comfort zone, and who won’t ever look back once they’re out there.

• Slytherins who pick their battles because they know that sometimes it just isn’t worth your effort.

• Hufflepuff students are often very outgoing and are able to make friends with anyone within 10 feet of them

• None of the houses’ students being exactly who you might expect, and everyone being incredibly unique in their own individual ways.

The Council [Chapter 2: The Meeting]

Originally posted by timetoemptythetrash

Chapter 1: The Body

“I have to go but, Y/N?”


“I gave them your name… Your real name. Any information about a Y/F/L/N working at the paper has been wiped from every database I could dream up. They can’t know about Lotus or I can guarantee you that the next headline won’t be written by you… it’ll be about you”.

His words are chilling but you understand completely. You were about to go deeper than you had ever gone and the only way to be as convincing as possible was to be 100 percent you. No Lotus, no fake name, just Y/N.

The following day passes at a glacial speed, and you find yourself on edge for the entirety of it.

CoCo’s in the Red Light District. 7 PM.

You replay the details John gave you about your meeting with this unnamed “recruiter”.

But wait, that wasn’t the word he told you this morning when he followed up.

Collector, maybe?

Who knew. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and either way, his job description sounded creepy.

Keep reading

Promise Me  [ P.P ]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count:

Tagging: @speedypan @alwaysinnarnia @chuckennuggets1213 @just-a-girl-maybe @doctorwhoandrory   (Let me know if you want to be added to the list!)

Warnings: ANGST and death 

A/N: I’ve not had the chance to write anything in such a long time and it feels so good to finally get something up for you guys. My requests are empty and open so do feel free to send some in! If you want, you can use this prompts list. This is also pretty angsty but I do think I went a bit easy on the angst still. Basically this sucks lmao.


Blood dripped from the tips of Peter’s fingers, mimicking the movements of the tears that fell from his eyes. After all he had done to protect you, this was never supposed to happen. He knew that he couldn’t have done anything to save you but for some reason unknown, guilt clawed at his skin.

A sob racks through his body.

Peter stumbles into a wall, his cheeks glistening with the salty fluid that had been expelled from his eyes. His shoulder presses against the stone, head falling against the brick as he falls to the ground in a heap. He wasn’t supposed to lose you like this.

It was meant to be an ordinary day. Peter swore at how easily he had believed that this day could be one of the best he’s had in awhile. Because it had instead turned out to be one of the worst days of his life. The pain Peter was feeling was one he would never be able to explain. If he had to, he would say that it felt as if someone had pushed a hand into his chest and tore out his heart, crushing it slowly but surely.

His sight is blurred as he raises his hands in front of his face. The red substance was dry and crusted in most places but there was still parts of which were still wet and dripping down his pale skin. He wished it was his own blood. Another loud sob pierces the silence; an agonizing sound filled with pain and grief.

Sniffling, his mind wanders back only half an hour ago. When you were still alive but dying in his arms.

Your head lay on his thigh, hair tinted red just like your lips. Shallow breaths caused your chest to rise and fall at an uneven pace, fingers tightening around the hand of the one you had fallen helplessly in love with. Despite knowing you weren’t going to make it, you smiled. A small smile but a genuine one.

“I’m sorry,” Peter had said, “I don’t-I should’ve-could’ve-”

“It’s not-it’s not your fault. Don’t blame-don’t blame yourself.” You moved your head to the side, lifting your arm and placing your clean hand on his tearstained cheek. He whimpers, a hand of his own gently resting on top of yours.

Peter shook his head slowly, his eyes unmoving from yours as spoke. “Hang on, Y/N. Don’t shut your eyes.”

“Peter,” You grunted, wincing at the uncomfort in your abdomen. Quickly, you glanced down at the gaping wound in your stomach, flinching at the sight of it. “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t-it doesn’t hurt, Peter. Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“There’s help on it’s way, Y/N. Just please, please stay with me,” Peter said.  His chest ached as he glanced away from you for a second, only to check for any medical help.

“It’s okay, Pete. Everything’s okay,” You muttered, eyelids fluttering as you gasped helplessly for breath. “I’m going to be ok-okay. And-and you’re going to be okay t-too.”

“No,” Peter sobbed. “No. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

You could feel yourself slipping away as you looked up at him through half lidded eyes. “Promise me you’ll never forget me. Please, promise.”

“I-I promise,” He smiles gently through his tears, his tears wetting his soft pink lips. “How could I ever forget about my Princess?”

“I love you,” You choked, “I love you so much, Peter.”

“Hey, I love you too,” Peter tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, leaning down and placing his lips on yours so gently he may as well have not even touched them.

Peter could feel the moment you had left him. He could feel your body suddenly limp against his. All of a sudden he felt alone. Salty tears fell onto your limp body as he cried, his whole body shaking with each sob. His chest hurt and he struggled to breath as he grieved, his cries being heard by surrounding traffic.

All he could think about were the times you had spent together watching your favourite movies on Netflix and the meals that Aunt May had cooked for you (which had more times than not been a struggle to finish). He remembered the way your eye lit up when you smiled and the way you frowned when you didn’t agree with something.

He sobs a gut wrenching sob, his head falling to his knees as he relaxes against the cold brick wall. Peter doesn’t bother reply to the kind citizens passing by who ask him if he needs help. All he wanted to do was make his way back in time. It was a simple mugging which had resulted with a knife lodged in your stomach and Peter hated that something he could have so easily prevented was what had killed you.

There was a twisting feeling in his stomach and it felt as if his chest was closing in on itself, his hands shaking and his palms sweating. The only thing on his mind was you. He seemed to have an endless supply of tears stored away because they just kept coming.

The things he would do to get you back. But he couldn’t. It’s not possible and now you’re gone forever. Peter hurt more than he had ever hurt before and he couldn’t even dream on anything to compare the pain to. He just missed his Princess.


Enoch O'Connor (Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children):

Emily has been living in the children’s home for many decades but still, Enoch doesn’t know how to behave around her due to her peculiarity.


I sat in the big garden next to some bushes reading a book. While my eyes were darting over the lines on the pages, the other children had been spending their time in the garden as well.

Claire and Bronwyn sat in the grass under a tree playing with princess dolls, next to them were Emma and Olive performing a daily chore which was helping a baby squirrel.

Hugh and Millard were playing football and ran around the whole garden shouting and laughing. It had been a bit distracting but I just tried to ignore them not wanting to be rude.

“Emily, watch out!”, I heard Hugh shout and my head shot up to look what was happening. Right in this moment the ball collided with my head. “Ouch!”, I mumbled angrily holding my head and stood up.

Hugh and Millard ran to me wanting to know wether I was fine. “Hugh!”, I snapped and looked at him. Panic. “It wasn’t me, I swear! It was Millard.”, he said quickly pointing at the floating clothes.  “I’m so sorry, Emily.”, Millard apologised and I turned my head to look at him. Guilt. Shame.

“Maybe you should stop playing. Everyday some unfortunate event disturbs my reading.”, Horace claimed appearing behind me before I could say something. “It’s okay, Millard. I’m fine.”, I said giving him a smile and looked at Horace. Annoyed. I grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the boys.

It wasn’t like Horace and I didn’t like them, we rather preferred to be left alone when reading our books.
“Just ignore them like I do and read your book over here.”, I mumbled and sat down in the grass making him come down with me.

I concentrated on my book again but I could hear Horace’s voice in my head, “Uncomfortable.”
“What’s making you uncomfortable?”, I asked Horace quietly and closed my book.
“Uh… it’s Enoch. He’s staring at us again.”, he mumbled looking at the ground.

I looked up to the house seeing a figure in Enoch’s window. I was curious and wanted to know what he was feeling but he was too far away for my peculiarity to work.

My peculiarity was quite interesting: I had the ability to see what another person is feeling or in what state he was,  when I looked at the person. It was possible with every person, even with Millard. But sadly it only worked in a particular area.
Sometimes I even knew someone’s feeling without looking at them on condition that there’s a stronger bond between me and the person. In this case, I would be able to hear this person’s voice in my head telling me his true feelings. But then again, this was only possible in my area.

“How do you know that he’s staring at us?”, I wanted to know but he just grinned at me. Feeling of superiority. “You know something.”, I realised and moved closer. “What did you dream about? Tell me!”, I demanded making him laugh.

“Emily, I don’t have more information than anyone else does.”, he smirked. I groaned and rolled my eyes since it was obvious that he was lying. “Why can’t you just tell me?”, I asked him but before he could answer Miss Peregrine asked us to change for supper.

I changed into a simple gray dress before leaving my room and stepping into the hallway where I saw Enoch leaving his room as well. Sadness. I saw sadness almost every time when I looked at Enoch. I thought about telling Miss Peregrine once but I made a promise to all of them that I would never reveal their feelings. But still I felt sorry for him and wanted to do something.
In the last decades I tried to approach him many times but he never lets anyone get to close to him.

I gave him a slight smile but he turned his head away and quickly went downstairs. Nervous. Sadness.

I followed him into the dining room where only Miss Peregrine, Horace and the twins were sitting at the table.

I took my usual seat next to Horace and watched Enoch taking his seat and avoiding to look at anybody. Uncomfortable. Sadness.
“Curiosity.”, I heard Horace’s voice before I turned to face him. “Nothing happened. Everything’s fine!”, I assured him a bit loudly making him chuckle.

I looked at Miss Peregrine. Confusion. “Everything’s fine.”, I repeated, smiled at her and she nodded before all the other children entered the room and took their seats.

After we all had finished we went into the living room since it was time for Horace to project his dreams.
I sat between Emma and Millard, Bronwyn sat on my lap and leaned against me. She snuggled up into my chest while I wrapped my arms around her causing her to smile. “Loved.”, I heard her voice and I smiled to myself.
I caught Enoch watching us but he turned away. Nervous.

The night before Horace dreamed about clothes, as usual. He was standing in a giant closet filled with suits and bow ties and he danced around before trying everything on.

Then the image changed and you could see Enoch sitting outside. We all turned to look at Enoch, who shifted on his seat. Embarrassment. Sadness.
After that, a hand slightly grabbed Enoch’s shoulder and then you could see me standing next to him. He smiled at me while I sat down right next to him leaving no space between us. Now, everyone was looking at me and I blushed.
I wanted to avoid looking at Enoch but I couldn’t help myself. Excitement. Then saw me looking at him. Shock.
My heart stopped beating. Why is he feeling this? I felt the heat in my face and hoped nobody would notice.

While the others had focused to Horace buying clothes again, I still tried to calm myself down. Why was that whole Enoch thing bothering me so much?

I also tried to focus on the projection and saw me again but this time with Emma and a boy who reminded me of Abe.

Just then Horace’s projection stopped, this were all of his dreams. I allowed myself to look at Enoch again. Jealousy. Sadness.

“Now, everyone, get your masks. It’s time for reset.”, Miss Peregrine clapped her hands and turned around to leave the room.

Everyone did as we were told and a couple of minutes later we all stood outside ready for the reset.

I stood next to Horace, who smirked at me but I ignored him. After Miss Peregrine finished resetting the time we made our way back to the house and then to our rooms.

Bronwyn and I shared a room since she got nightmares pretty often. Plus, we were like sisters, anyway.
So, after we made us ready to sleep, Bronwyn laid down and I told a story like every evening. Tired. Content.

She fell asleep really fast that evening and I laid down in my bed as well thinking about Horace’s dreams. It seemed like Enoch was comfortable with me being close to him… so maybe he will accept my approaches soon.

I fell asleep with that thought but woke up again around midnight. I heard a sound downstairs and sat up in my bed. One look to the side told me said Bronwyn was in a deep sleep. Content.

I left our room quietly finding my way downstairs. I didn’t really know what I expected but when I entered the kitchen I saw Enoch taking some jars out of a cupboard. Confusion. Sadness.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”, I asked causing him to jump. Some jars slipped out of his hands and crashed as they collided with the ground. “Damn it.”, he mumbled collecting the hearts off the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”, I mumbled quickly. I rushed to his side and started to collect the sharps.

“Stop that.”, he said harshly as he snapped away my hands. I looked up at him. Nervous. Concerned.
It made me smile, which then again made Enoch furrow in his eyes in confusion. “You’re concerned that I’ll cut myself.”, I explained and he nodded lowering his head. Embarrassment.

“Your peculiarity scares me.”, he confessed calmly continuing to clean up the mess.
“Says the boy who collects hearts to raise the dead.”, I chuckled hoping to make him laugh. But, nothing. Not even a smile. Shame. Sadness.

“That was a joke. I like your peculiarity.”, I said giving him a smile and this time I even got him to raise the corner of his mouth. “I know. You already told me.”, he breathed out before I wanted to help him again but he just glared at me. Concern.

While I sat on the ground, I watched him cleaning everything properly and getting new jars for the hearts.
“Enoch, I know… i know I’ve already asked you this… but why do I see sadness when I look at you?”, I wanted to know as he sat down next to me, his back resting against the cupboards just like mine.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m lonely.”, he said simply and shrugged. Without thinking I took his hand and waited a moment before interwining our fingers.

I felt my heart beating against my ribs and I looked up at him. Nervous. Content.
I blushed when I realised that I had never seen contentment while looking at Enoch.

“I need to go back to sleep. Good night, Enoch.”, I yawned after a while of comfortable silence and stood up after looking into his brown eyes. Understanding. Sadness.

“Good night, Emily.”, he said quietly and even smiled slightly before I went upstairs to my room. I laid in my bed when I heard him going to bed as well and then thought about what had happened the last twenty minutes.

I couldn’t help but blush again when I thought about his concern, him being nervous or him being content for the first time.

I realised that due to my peculiarity I had never really paid attention to my own feelings. I was always to focused on other people.

I felt excitement which lead to a huge smile on my face.
Could it be that I had fallen in love with him? I mean, that would explain my interest in him even after getting rejected. And now, while I was thinking about it I could list many times where I got nervous around Enoch and where I watched him secretly.

So maybe, I actually was in love with that boy…


Part 2: Jealousy


I’m sorry for the mistakes: English is not my mother tongue. Anyways, this is the first time I upload a fanfiction so I hope you like it. :)

He Was Found


I recommend reading He Was Lost before reading this.

Ethan Dolan forgot what it’s like to be annoyed at his brother. Not ‘dammit Grayson, why’d you have to go and drink all the milk’ kind of annoyed, but more like ‘dammit Grayson, why’d you have to bring up the love of my life who I stupidly let go of and miss more than anything’ type of annoyed. He is peeling oranges near the counter and Grayson’s mixing some pancake batter, tossing in handfuls of chocolate chips.

Keep reading

Types As Harry Potter Quotes

ISFJ: “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

ESFJ: “’I’m not going to be murdered,’ Harry said out loud.‘That’s the spirit, dear,’ said his mirror sleepily.”

ISTJ: “We could all have been killed- or worse, expelled.” 

ESTJ: “It’s wingardium leviOsa, not leviosAH.”

ISFP: “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!”

ESFP: “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

ISTP: “Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.”

ESTP: “You sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

INFJ: “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

ENFJ: “We’ve all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s what really matters.” 

INTJ: “Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic.”

ENTJ: “Not my daughter, you bitch!”

INFP: “Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have.”

ENFP: “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

INTP: “Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.”

ENTP: “Give her hell from us, Peeves!”

Skin to Skin

Jughead Jones doesn’t know how the crimson crescents ended up on his palms.

Betty Cooper is clueless when it comes to the messages on her arms.

Soulmate AU where all the little marks and injuries belonging to Betty and Jughead start finding themselves on each other’s skin. 

A/N: I’m always a sucker for AUs! Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter i

Jughead Jones is almost done with an incredibly important meeting when it first happens.

Jason Baltimore, the editor of the Long Island Publishing House, is sitting across him, fiddling with a ballpoint pen as he addresses Jughead. They’ve been in this windowless room for about two hours now, and Jughead can’t help but curse whoever designed this building. Hidden away in the streets of Manhattan, this place took an arduous amount of effort to find, and the sort-of dingy exterior almost made Jughead do a one-eighty and turn back. Sure, this is the first publishing house that liked my book, but I’m sure I can find another. He’d thought, but he’d shaken his head and made his way in.

“Mr. Jones, are you listening?”

Jughead’s head snapped up, blue-green eyes meeting brown. “Sorry, yes, it’s just a bit stuffy here.” He said.

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but we’ll have to conduct the rest of our meeting here.” Mr. Baltimore says, visible sweat stains peeking out from under his armpits.

Jughead nodded and fiddled with his watch. “Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll manage.”

“So we’ve got two problems.” The blonde, slightly chubby man, says. “One, your name is Jughead.”

Jughead raises his hands defensively. “So what?”

“You’re going to risk ridiculing yourself. People will end up laughing at your name on the cover instead of noticing the title.”

“Or,” Jughead says, leaning forward, “I’ll take them by surprise. ’The Anatomy of a Murder’ will be all the more unique, considering the fact that its content is so serious.”

Mr. Baltimore mimics his movement, resting his elbows on the desk between them. “At the acquisitions meeting, this issue was brought up, Mr. Jones.”

“So I will convince them.” Jughead Jones was a stubborn man.

Mr. Baltimore wipes away a droplet of sweat. “Let’s say you don’t succeed. Would you, maybe, consider an alternative? I don’t suppose your real name is Jughead.

Oh, no. No way was ‘Forsythe Jones’ going to be put on the cover of his first book; there was a reason he preferred ‘Jughead’ over that ridiculous name. (Ironic, considering the fact the Jughead was pretty ridiculous, too.)

Jughead shakes his head. “Let’s just say my real name is worse.” He eyes the editor in front of him. “It looks fine on paychecks and insurance forms, but not on a novel.”

“Perhaps a pseudonym, then?”

Jughead sets his mouth into a thin line.

“No, then.” Mr. Baltimore says, gauging his reaction. “Mr. Jones, I advise you to think this over, and get back to me on Wednesday.”

He flips open his laptop. “Now, the next issue I want to discuss… well, it’s not an issue, but something I would like you to know…” He turns the laptop face towards Jughead. “You’re twenty two years old. You’re a senior at NYU. Probably the youngest among a huge community of authors.”

Jughead nods. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Mr. Jones, your style is unique, and your writing is brilliant, but generally, books by younger authors don’t tend to be as successful as others, and I hope you’re prepared for such a situation.”

Jughead bites his lip. “I know, Mr. Baltimore. I hardly expected this book to get picked up by a publisher in the first place, and I’m thankful to you, I am. But, I think that the masses will like it. I truly do.”

“I am hopeful, too, Mr. Jones- can I call you Jughead, by the way?”


“I am hopeful too. Just preparing you. Moving on,” Mr. Baltimore says, fanning himself with Jughead’s manuscript. “Oh, for God’s sake- someone get the Air Conditioner working!” He yells after stalking to the door and sticking his head out.

Thank you, Jughead thinks, because he doesn’t feel too comfortable about the fact that his manuscript is now a makeshift fan. Plus, the need for fresh air is only increasing.

“Now,” Mr. Baltimore says, once he’s settled in his chair again, “You need to create accounts on social media, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr and Reddit if you want to discuss theories with your readers, and all the likes.”

Jughead internally groans at the Twitter and Instagram part, but he knows it’s necessary. The Tumblr and Reddit part he’s fine with, though. He’s been on those sites for years now.

“Could I borrow a pen?” Jughead asks. He needs a reminder, and writing on his forearm is a habit he’s had for many years. Once he Mr. Baltimore gives him one, he jots down a sentence onto his pale skin- Remember to succumb to the true giants of social media.

“And finally, Jughead, we’re assigning you an agent. Though you won’t need him as much if your book, well, doesn’t gain popularity, it’s still better to have one at hand. I’m giving you his number, shall I text it to you or will you write it down?”

Jughead’s phone is currently at a repair shop- it’s an iPhone 3, he’s been able to survive with that archaic thing for years now, but finding a store that actually fixed them was a huge task. But his screen had cracked badly, and Jughead has too many notes on it to buy another one without recovering stuff from this one.

“I’ll write it down.” He grabs the pen, once again, and etches the set of numbers Mr. Baltimore dictates to him.

“Well, Jughead, I’ll see you on Wednesday. This meeting was a pleasure, and I’m glad that I’ve decided to publish your book. But, think the name over.”

Jughead smiles, blushing ever so slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Baltimore.”

He grabs his bag and shrugs his leather jacket (courtesy JB) onto his shoulders and stands up. He has a shift at Barnes and Nobles’, and then a paper to write for his film study course, so he needs to hurry.

That’s when it happens. His palm suddenly stings, like it’s been cut, and Jughead winces with surprise. He opens his hands, palms up, looks at them, and sees that they’re bleeding. His fingernails have cut open the skin of his palm, and smears of blood marr the white skin.

Keep reading


Summary: bucky forgets but your love can make him come back to you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, language, break down + lots of crying (its not as bad as it looks like)

Pairing : Bucky x reader x a bit of Steve

A/n: thus is only a little something which I’m not sure about… As always… So leave feedback!!! Pretty please😊😘

When you chose to stay with bucky you knew what was possible to happen. He could have had a nightmare. He could have hurt you. He could have killed you. You knew all these things could have happened but none of those imaginations could’ve ever stopped you from loving him. No matter what he would have done, you would have forgave him. Although, what did happen was much worse than anything that you ever could’ve expected. 

You lay awake thinking as you heard soft whispers coming from the person besides you. You listened closely trying yo make out if it was a nightmare or a good dream he was having. 

You turned a little so you could face Bucky and in that moment the whispers dyed down. You looked from his lips up to his eyes and jumped a bit as you saw him intensely starring at you. His eyes twitched to your left hand brought up by you to touch and gently stroke his cheek.

 He flinched away at the slightest touch, your skin touched his, your fingers feeling like a feather. You didn’t even touch him properly but he flinched away as if you just sent a hit straight to his face. 

He looked at you in horror , eyes wide opened and lips pressed together in a tight line making concern wash over your features. 

You forced your tired body to slowly sit up and narrow your burning eyes so you could see something In the dark of the night. Your lids tried to fall close but you didn’t let them as you stared down at bucky. 

You attempted to touch him, to reassure him, to make him believe you were real but all your attempts got declined by him. He just laid back down onto his back staring at the emptiness of the blank ceiling.

You knew you shouldn’t talk to him when he was in this state, the danger about him thinking you we’re hydra and only wanted to fool him was too big, but you didn’t know what else to do. You tried to choose your words wisely as they came out of your mouth just above a whisper. 

“Bucky… Can you talk to me?“ 

You knew you didn’t have to ask if he was alright, you saw he wasn’t but after he just continued laying down and staring at the ceiling without even acknowledging you, your whole body started to tense up and you got really concerned and worried.

“Bucky I need you to talk to me” you urged now making him turn his head to you in a fast motion as if you snapped him out of his daze.

 His eyes grew wide once again and he looked at your face before slowly getting of and out of the bed. “I don’t know you… What are you doing here ?” He whispered in confusion. 

You chuckled “yeah very funny babe" 

You watched him shift his position and waited for him to come back to bed, but he never came.

 Your brows furrowed and you, once again, sat there with worries written all over your face. 

“That was a joke right ?” You asked hopeful. 

“What was?” He answered eyeing you up and down in fear and horror.

And you felt the tears brimming. And the throat tightening. And the words disappearing. Your mind went blank and you didn’t know what to do. 

Suddenly your body felt numb. 

It was that brief second in which everything around you, everything that seemed to be alright, went back to the bad. And the happy end was not in sight anymore. 

The tears fell from your eyes.

It clicked, this was the moment you knew would come eventually. Everything seemed good. There is never something good.

It just wasn’t fair. That all of this always happened to you. It just wasn’t fair.

You slowly got out of bed making bucky take a step backwards with every step you took forwards. Your eyes stayed on his the whole time still seeking for any glimpse of shine to show you that you didn’t loose him entirely. 

There wasn’t anything, not what you hoped.

You walked to the door looking one last time over your shoulder at bucky who was staring at you in alert. 

You forced your glance away and opened the door stepping out of the room and into the hallway. 

“Friday make sure Sargent Barnes stays in the room” you ordered while walking down the hallway with a blank stare.

“Of course muss (y/l/n)”

The tears dried down and your eyes became cold as your mind started thinking back. 

Everything was hydras fault. Just everything. You were happy for once, the only one that could give you this happiness was Bucky. 

And they destroyed it again

You knocked at the too familiar door, softly but loud enough for him to hear.


“Come in”

 You heard Steve say through the wooden door. Stepping in you immediately broke down again right next to the door making Steve rush over to you and pic you up.

He picked you up and carried you over and onto his bed he knew bucky wouldn’t like to see this but he didn’t know what to do.

He rocked you. Back. And forth. 

Waiting for your tears to dry and your sobs to die down. And as they did, oh as they did he could not believe what you told him. 

As they did he wished they wouldn’t have.

As they did he wanted all of this to be a dream.

As they did he looked at you. And he stopped being angry because all of the pain his friend had to go through. 

Because when he looked into your eyes , he saw all the love and all the hope that slowly began to fade. He saw everything you built up fall apart and he saw all the walls Bucky managed to put down, coming up again. 

When he looked up he became sad. For all the pain you had to go through.

Steve didn’t want that. You didn’t want that either. So all that was left for you to do was hold together and do what you could.

He surrounded you in a tight hug, feeling your salty tears which ran down your cheeks in silence on his shirt which you gripped tightly.

You cried quietly staring blankly against the wall as you held onto Steve, you felt yourself slipping and you didn’t know what to do until, you let go.

You didn’t hold into your anger, your sadness, your desperation anymore. You let go and slowly felt yourself fall to sleep, the last thing you felt was how the tight grip around you loosened and the arms disappeared.

You woke up in a foreign yet familiar room. You stirred, slightly overwhelmed by the situation as you began to remember. 

You blinked away from the sunlight floating into the room as you sat up on the bed. You looked around. 

You were Alone.

You stood up hoping it was a dream. Hoping all of this was not real.

You knew it was.

Your steps were quiet and slow as you walked down the hallway head hanging low and eyes focusing on nothing in particular just like your ears.

You heard the chit chat , the beeping of the coffee machine and clinging of forks against plates but you didn’t focus on any of that. 

It was as if all of that got blocked out by your mind at it suddenly was just you left in the hall. 

You looked up to the quietness just as you stood in front of your door.

There was nothing. You saw nothing.

Everything was a blur. The noises were gone. And you still felt numb. All you heard was your blood rushing in your ears and your heart beating against your chest. 

You were so afraid to open the door. It was no use though and you knew it. You pushed the handle down and the beating sound picked up and got much faster, the room starting to clear up around you and when you saw the room was empty the ground seemed to be ripped away from under your feet. 

Suddenly everything seemed to be so far away. And you felt yourself loose consciousness and then your hand flew up to the door frame trying to find any kind of support before falling down, but it didn’t help. Not at all.

The next time you wake up you lay in your own bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets that smelled like bucky. They had this sent lingering on them that made you want to throw up, but not because it smelled bad. Because you didn’t know what happened to him or where he is AMD every memory to him makes your stomach turn upsidedown, your eyes burn and fill with tears and your mind race with thousands of worst case scenarios.

As you looked over at the clock you saw it was already late in the afternoon and you jumped out of bed, feeling dizzy from the fast movement but you didn’t care, you stomped out of the room, not becaysetyou were angry.

As you reached the kitchen there was no one, and in the gym was no one, and in the common room was no one.

You were all alone, no one was home.

You wanted to see bucky. You wanted to see him so bad. And that’s when you remembered something.

“Friday? Where are the rest of the avengers?”

“They had to leave for a highly classified mission, everyone was needed”

“And where is bucky”

“He is in level 19. containment base.”

You gasped and looked at the ceiling wide eyed. 

“Thank you Friday” you shouted as you made your way to the elevator quickly and pushed the right button.

As you rode down everything started to twist and turn again, your throat went dry and your fingers played with one another. This time you didn’t allow yourself to fall over again. You just couldn’t.

You reached floor 19 in a matter of seconds and stepped out of the elevator only to be met with cold and monotone surroundings managing it to make your mood drop further down. 

You walked on the cold hard floor your shoes clicking against it every now and then. You looked around the room , all the glass cells were empty. You wondered where bucky was until you rounded a corner and saw a heavy door.

You stepped into the room and saw a big window which you knew was a mirror on the other side of the room. 

Your steps were cautious, quiet, actually not wanting to see what was going on on the other side. 

As you stood just in front the window you saw him, sitting in a corner.

Face full of fear as he rocked back and forth.

There was nothing for him to forget his fear. White walls, white floor, white ceiling, white cloth. 

All he had was a bed, a table with a chair and a separated bathroom. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the love of your live so helpless, so empty and not being able to do anything against it. 

You stepped to the side walking over to the door opening it.

His head shot up to you and you smiled at him weakly, you weren’t afraid. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm you.

His eyes looked into yours with fear and he noticed the tears that streamed down your face. 

He didn’t understand you smiled and cried all at the same time. 

He didn’t understand.

You kneeled down besides him slowly wanting to see if he would let you or not, but when he did nothing to stop you 

, you turned over and sat next to him leaning your head back against the wall and wrapping your hands around his right arm. 

You sat there in silence for a while, you already wondered when he would push you away. It was a wonder that he let you touch him.

But you actually didn’t care, you laid your head onto his shoulder and you felt his whole body tensing but you didn’t care. Your tears fell onto his dark blue shirt and you gripped onto his arm more tightly afraid he would just leave you now.

The silence stayed for a while both of you just starring against the wall.

You felt him turning his head and looking down at you, but before anything else could happen the door was ripped open harshly and both of your heads shot up to see Steve standing in the doorway.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

He yelled. The anger in his eyes like flames, but yours didn’t show anything else.

You knew bucky was terrified, you could practically hear his heart racing as his whole body tensed and he gripped onto you. Out of pure comfort, probably not even noticing it.

“Steve, this is my boyfriend not yours, I can do whatever I want in here.”

You growled at him but your voice didn’t raise.

“Do you think its good for him that you are here ?!”

He snapped again. 

“But you can be here or what ?" 

You snapped back but you knew you had to comply anyway. You turned to bucky burying your face in his neck and whispering "I’ll come back tonight” for only him to hear. 

You pushed yourself up and stomped out of the room, sending daggers to Steve.


The night had come and you desperately wanted to go see bucky. You wanted him to remember who you were. 

You packed a little bag for him.

Only stuff that he needed like his journal and some pens.

You even packed your pillow in hopes that the smell could make him remember

You sneaked out of your room in silence and as you reached the elevator, you put the others on lockdown making sure they couldn’t follow you. 

You reached the floor and Bucky’s room opening and stepping in. 

Bucky saw you and he knew it was you but somehow he still flinched away as you sat down on the bed next to him.

“I brought you some stuff” you held the bag up and he eyed it suspiciously even though he couldn’t see anything.

“Friday can you turn on a light” and next to you a light was lit. You sat down on the floor in the middle of the room and pulled out your pillow looking up at Bucky already staring at you. 

You amazed him the first one who wasn’t  afraid, the first one coming here voluntary.

“Can you catch?” You asked. He nodded. You smiled.

You threw it over to him and he catches it letting it fall next to him in the bed.

The smell illuminated the room and he loved that sent. And he knew it. Where did he know it from.

You pulled his journal out and stood up standing in front of him and stretching your arm out for him to take it.

He took it from your hand  and you looked at him a moment before talking. 

“Do you want me to leave. I mean I would like to stay but we’d have to sleep in one bed and I don’t mind leaving.” You asked with slightly shaking voice.

“You can stay.” A whisper said.

Your eyes shot  up and all the surprise was shown on your face. 

You climbed into bed next to him, the small bed forced you to lay close together but none of you mind. 

You laid on your back staring into Bucky’s eyes as he hovered slightly over you. 

He didn’t know why he did that but he wanted to. He was comfortable around you. Just like that.

“I’ll have to leave early in the morning Steve doesn’t like me here.” You stated.

Bucky Nuzzled his face into your neck and mumbled “Steve can go fuck himself, and when captain small ass yells at my girlfriend only one more time I’ll break his face." 

He chuckled before resting his forehead against your jawline again.

You laughed along until… Captain small ass, girlfriend and yells sank in. You froze. You didn’t even know your hand still ran up and down his arm as you starred at the ceiling blankly.

"Did you watch game of thrones since I’m here, you know we watch it together.”

He asked completely unaware.

Your hand froze and suddenly you felt like throwing up again, suddenly everything was normal again and  the happiness seemed to hit you pretty hard.

“Oh my god” you whispered after your hand stopped running up and down his arm.

“What’s up doll?” He asked concerned.

“Oh my god”

He didn’t know what was going n until he  processed all his words. “Oh my god”

You starred at each other wide eyed. 

He kissed you passionately and so full of love you forgot that the world was turning for a moment. His left arm helping him keep his balance but his right hand touched your cheek ever so lightly as your lips melted together and danced in reunion.

You broke apart and he looked into your eyes deeply getting lost in their beauty.

“You made me remember.”

And he kissed you again long and loving.

Both of you made your  way up into your shared room hand in hand. 

Smiling to yourselves you snuggled up in bed together. 

Your head laid on his chest and his hand was around your back the other one pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek like feathers running over your cheek. 

You listened to his steady heartbeat your hand laying on his chest lazily as your lips stayed in a tight smile and you closed your eyes. 

Bucky looked down at you being completely overwhelmed by you. 

You were so beautiful and so strong for both of you.

And in the moment where he noticed he was back with you, he knew he would never let you go. 

You were his anchor and it was all the love for you that made him come back. 

@mytrueself @learisa @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @sebbylover24 @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @basicwhiskeyprincesss @moomoomendes @olicia-leeshy @socially-unacceptable-h0e @smol-flower-kiddo @juneau2005 @marvelbase001 @artdolf-hipster @0bookishlove0

Preference #4: He Comes Home Angry (Michael)

TW: Mentions of previous self harm.


Michael was fuming, his harsh grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles a milky white colour.

You watched him intently, unsure of exactly what you should say to try and ease his intense fury.

Michael broke the silence first.

“Why do they do that? What gives them the goddamn right to talk to you like that?” he said, his voice quiet, and strained.

You nibbled on your lower lip, unsure of what to really say. You avert your eyes to the road instead, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

An exasperated sigh escapes the man beside you.

“I just - it breaks my heart… Why do they want to hurt you? I feel like every time I’m truly happy, someone wants to destroy it.”

You turn your head back around to look at him, and you felt a pang in your chest as you saw his eyes were tearing up.

Michael pulled the car into the drive without a further word. You followed him meekly into the house.

You didn’t know how to comfort him. What could you even say about it? That you didn’t mind? Of course you did. Having people rip into you everywhere you went simply because you fell for a man in a band was hard. You and Michael never once lied to each other… it was like an unspoken pact the pair of you shared.

Having to disable replies and comments on social media because all that anyone seemed to say was how worthless you were, how ugly you were, how Michael could do better.

Hate accounts dedicated to you were scattered everywhere - on Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter… even on Facebook.

You managed at first. You loved Michael, more than you ever thought you could have loved someone; you knew he reciprocated - he looked at you as though you were the one that put the stars in the sky.

It was when you had made the mistake of wearing a short sleeved shirt, and fans were quick to zoom into the photos that the press had managed to snap of you and Michael.

Posts dedicated to your left forearm were everywhere - some filled with support, but most filled with hatred. ‘Damaged goods’, they called you.

The scars that littered your arm had become a part of you. You were so used to them now that you were always confused when people’s gazes shifted from your face, to your arm, and back again. Until you remembered.

You and Michael were leaving the club after a night out together - the pair of you felt carefree and elated.

Yet as you made the descent from the club doors to the car, a fusillade of flashes greeted you, along with shouted questions about cheating rumours, comments intended to set one of you off.

One in particular stood out to the pair of you, however, and was the cause of Michael’s frustration.

“Any more scars on your arm, (Y/N)? Looking for some more sympathy and attention?”

You had gripped Michael’s forearm tightly as he began to hurl verbal abuse at the culprit, his initial instinct always being to defend you.

You didn’t let go of his arm until you were both seated safely in the car.

Which brings you to now. The silence between the two of you says all that your words couldn’t.

You and Michael sat beside each other in bed, so close to each other, but not touching. You hated it… You wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, wrap yourself around him and rest your head into his shoulder, knowing that he made you feel safe like nothing else ever could. For some reason, it felt like there was a barrier between the two of you. Something stopping you from getting close to him.

“You deserve better,” Michael mumbled. It was the first words he had uttered since you arrived home.

“There’s nothing that could ever be better than you,” you whispered into the darkness. “You’re it for me. I… I can’t imagine a life now without you in it.”

A heartwrenching sound tore from Michael’s throat, as he began to let out loud, shuddering sobs.

Suddenly, the barrier you felt before melted away, and you pressed yourself as close to him as you could, trying to soothe him, desperate to take away his pain and hurt. You held his shaking body in your arms, and you dreaded what would come next.

“I love you. I fucking love you, and I know it hurts you. I see it in your eyes, I see it in the way your body stiffens. As if you’re building up that wall again, trying to keep people out in case they hurt you. You do deserve better than me. Better than what I can give you. I can’t protect you from them! I can’t stop them, baby… I’ve tried so hard,” he gasped between his shaking cries.

“Please, Michael… don’t. You know I only ever want you. Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I know that’s what’s going through your head right now, but I swear, that would kill me. I’d rather take people saying things like that every bloody day of my life than have to live without you.” Tears of your own were spilling now.

“I fucking hate it!” Michael suddenly yells, breaking away from your pleading embrace, getting out of bed and running a hand through his wild, unruly hair.

“This isn’t what I wanted! I wanted to live my dreams, I wanted to be in a band with my brothers, I wanted to tour the world and make music that fucking meant something. I wanted to make people happy… and those people who claim I’m their goddamn sunshine, their saviour, the person who inspires them and makes them happy… they’re the people breaking my love’s heart every fucking day! I can’t take this anymore, I…” Suddenly his yelling stops, and he’s back on the bed, leaning over you, wiping away tears you didn’t know had been shed.

“Seeing you like this breaks my heart. I - I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I… I know I’m living the dream I had as a teenager. I fucking love my life and what I do, but not at the expense of my relationship. When I met you, my dreams shifted. I still wanted to do all the things I’ve always wanted to do, but with you right beside me. I want you with me always. Being with the woman I love is more important than being a ‘celebrity’. I’m leaving the band. Don’t argue with me, my mind is made up. I can still write and help produce… I’ll still make music. Behind the scenes, this time. I don’t wanna be out on the frontline and have you being hurt day in, day out. You mean more than I could ever have believed possible, baby. It’s cheesy and it’s not usually what I’m like but I just really fucking need you to know. I don’t say it enough, I’ve never been that guy. I’m not good with words unless I’m writing a song… but you’re everything to me. You’re my happiness. I can’t lose you, and I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt. I love you.”

You were full out sobbing, and you pulled him closer to you. You needed him close. There was no way in hell you were going to let him leave that band. You were strong, you could handle it. He loved what he did, and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself it you were the reason he left it all behind.

You decided to speak in the morning, when things were a little less raw, painful and needy. When the anger subsided, if only slightly. You’d make him look at the situation rationally. You knew you could.

For now, the pair of just held each other as close as humanly possible, whispering declarations of love and sweet nothings until sleep came and took hold of you.

A/N: So this was a different take on prompt, I hoped you guys liked it. It was extremely fluffy, but I picture Michael like that anyway really. Every so often, everything he feels just comes rushing out. Hope you liked it!

Love always,

Steph x

sweet, sweet superstar

( PROMPT: I met you online, and I think I’ve fallen in love with you yet I have no idea who you are, so I suggested we meet and wHAT DO YOU MEAN “just come after filming” are you kidding me?? How am I supposed to get past security they won’t let me in!!! )

A/N: IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T HEARD, MY HUSBAND’S - TOM HOLLAND - IS IN SINGAPORE, AND I AM PRAYING THAT I’LL MEET HIM BEFORE I HAVE TO GO TO LONDON, BUT HOW DO YOU FIND TOM HOLLAND??? WHERE DOES HE GO??? AND NO ONE WILL GO WITH ME TO CHECK OUT HIS HOTEL. I COULD CRY. I HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR HIM TO COME TO SINGAPORE, AND NOW THAT HE’S HERE, I CAN’T EVEN SEE HIM. WHAT IS THIS LIFE. ( In other news, this will be a drabble series featuring famous! Peter Parker. And let’s be real - all the comments we make about our husbands would probably get us laid or slapped. I went with the former. )

Taglist (permanent): @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter |@tomsleftbrow |@tryn25|@tanglefire | @midnight-memorial | @tiny-friggin-human |@tacklemyackles|@fangeekkk |@beamagtuto | @captainaudreystark | @hellosuperewczi | @dasia-aye

You’re in the lecture theater, listening to a yawn-inducing lecture about classroom management, when your phone pings and vibrates inside your jacket pocket, sending a tremor up your arm. A little too eagerly, you yank it out, clicking open the LINE app, a smile blooming across your face when you see who the message is from.

vnderoos: Hey, (Y/n)! How’s your day going? 

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