the train to nowhere

sometimes i think I’ll never be happy until i own a well-tailored victorian era suit

“i do apologize for the theatricality, juno,” says a man who has never once in his entirely life even considered not being as theatrical as possible in any given situation (including, maybe two hours before, breaking into juno’s apartment probably through the window, turning off all the lights, leaning himself alluringly against a shelf or something & waiting in the dark for god knows how long for juno to get home) and who definitely does not feel the need to stop and apologize for it


[this wip is scrapped and unrelated to current zen angst comic lol]

hey everyone don’t forget to thank @therealhappyhomestucker​ because they sent the ask that started all the Zen angst AHAHA. Was actually supposed to be just one part but I was surprised because so many people wanted continuations. I also received a lot of suggestions about the au and it’s so fun to read them all!

On another note i was drawing out a small fluff AU before all this – where Zen gets too busy for MC ((even standing her up for dinner – damn zen of course jumin got her something to eat wtf)) so she hangs out with other RFA members instead ahaaha but then angst happened and now we’re all riding this feels train to nowhere bYE

i know he’s using a radio BUT its metaphorical because they’re not on the same plane because beacon hills doesnt have a train station so they’re nowhere near close that radio signals could ACTUALLY reach so the ONLY reason this radio is working is BECAUSE its stiles that is using it and LYDIA is listening. its the same way she heard him calling out for her over the radio when he was unconcious and being terrorized by the nogitsune - she is tuned into him and that just

  • What people say: "My niece's nephew's grandson was attacked and mauled by a dog without warning!"
  • What people mean: "I am ignorant of dog body language and uneducated on dog behavior and I don't know how to read a dog's stress signals to see the subtle warnings that a dog is getting uncomfortable and reaching its threshold and about to lash out aggressively."
Duel//Alec Lightwood Imagine

Being new in the New York Institute was a hard journey for you.Especially being away from your parents and your friends.But when you were leaving your instute,it was the best choice for you.Ever since you came to the institute,you’ve been training days and nights.

Little did you know,the eldest Ligthtwood was watching in every single training you were doing.He always came out of nowhere whenever you were done training,like he knew when you’d wrap it up.

He was always walking in when you sat down,talking to you,telling you to come to diner,or how you been doing.

Jace was constantly talking about how much he liked you.Even his sister was sure that he has a crush on you.You weren’t that sure.You just thought that he was just being friendly,and that was natural.

But that one day,when you were training boxing with the sandbag,you realized the head behind the training room’s door’s window.And you stopped hitting the handbag and held it.You suddenly recognized the black hair,and the rune on that person’s neck so you looked closer.The person looking immediatly kneeled.But you came even closer and opened the door and saw Alec Lightwood kneeling under the window.He stood up fastly.

‘’Oh,i dropped my stelee.There it is.’’He said holding his stelee.It was obvious that he didn’t drop anything but you went with it anyways.

‘’Yeah.’’you said turning your back to grab your bag.

‘’Have you trained with a partner before at New York Institute?’’He asked chasing you to where you’re going.

‘’I haven’t!’’You said turning to him.You were amazed by the idea of training with a partner because you were trainning with a partner constantly when you were in your Institute.

‘’Do you want to?Together?’’

‘’Now?’’You asked pointing the ring.

‘’Yeah!’’He said walking up to ring,and you followed him.

‘’Here we go.’’You said throwing a punch that supposed to hit his chin but he grapped your wrist and pulled you so you can’t move.You used your right leg to kick him,and he tottered,you used that as an advantage.Then you used your elbow to punch his stomach.The only thing you noticed that he never tried to hit you he just defended himself.You always saw him hitting in a duel but he didn’t even try to hit you.When you tried to punch him again he held your wrist and pulled you closer to him.

Then you stopped trying to hit him.

He stopped trying to parry your moves.

The only thing you were hearing was your heartbeat,his heart  beat and the way you two breathe.

He looked at your eyes for a good 30 seconds then looked at your lips.Then,he smashed his lips into yours.After a moment of shock you responded to his kiss.The kiss was soft enough to make you blush.He let your wrists go then you put your arms on his shoulders and he put his hands on your waist.

One of the best moments of your life.The first kiss you shared with your boyfriend for 4 years.And now,fiancee.

Eggsy isn’t meant to be at Hogwarts. 

Well, he is, technically. He did set Dean on fire. With his mind.

But really, that was a tiny accident and shouldn’t have him on a train to the middle of nowhere, while his mum and sister have been Obliviated and left with the remains of Dean’s gang. Eggsy should be there, helping his family get out of that damn house.

But no, he’s fifteen, four years late to start, and on his way to Hogwarts as his alternative to prison time.

Which, very unfair that he would have gone to prison for lighting Dean on fire when Dean had never even faced the consequences of beating his mum.

Other than the consequence of being burnt to death when he hit Eggsy too. That was too quick a death for what he’d been doing to the Unwins since Lee’s death.

“Unwin?” a smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. Eggsy looks over his shoulder, head still leaned up against the train windows, to see a boy (slightly older than him maybe?) staring down at him with a piece of parchment in his hand. “Are you Gary Unwin?”

“Eggsy,” Eggsy corrects, straightening up to size up the newcomer. “What’s it to you?”

The boy (tall, dark hair, dark eyes, fucking fit, so hot) blinks before rubbing his temples and sighing. “Eggsy then. My name is Harry Hart, I’m Head Boy this year. I’ve been tasked to get you sorted out and tested for your time here at Hogwarts.”


“We need to see what classes to put you in,” Harry explains, “as you would normally be a fifth year, but this will be your first year at Hogwarts.”

“Ya gonna have to put me with the first years,” Eggsy yawns, checking out of the conversation even though Harry was fucking fit. “I don’t know shit about nothing.”

Harry is silent for a moment before sitting across from Eggsy in the otherwise empty compartment. “You’re a Muggleborn then?”

“Don’t even know what that means bruv.”

“Your parents don’t have magic,” Harry clarifies. Eggsy shrugs.

“Don’t know about my dad, he’s been dead forever. Mum definitely doesn’t though.”

“Muggleborn or half-blood,” Harry notes, scribbling the words onto the parchment he’d been carrying. “Do you know anything about Hogwarts?”

“I read a few things,” Eggsy says nonchalantly. “Know I don’t wanna be stuck in Slytherin.”

I’m a Slytherin,” Harry says. Eggsy smirks as he turns to him. 

“Exhibit A then.”

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IxxP Aesthetic

One for the misfits.

INFP: Industrial ruins offering glimpses into a post-apocalyptic world where slowly, but inevitably, wild grasses will softly bury everything until the sun will engulf the earth and the universe will implode. Getting lost in the streets of an unfamiliar town, door creaking as you enter the messiest antiquarian bookshop imaginable and are greeted with a kind smile. Wooden merry-go-rounds with hand-carved horses, hand-cranked organ playing circus tunes. Ten-page letters never sent, messages in a bottle found a hundred years later. An abandoned train station in the middle of nowhere where maybe the ghost of the porter is forever waiting for passengers he knows will not arrive. Being careful to avoid an audible click between tracks so to not ruin that well-nigh perfect transition between songs as you record a mixtape onto cassette. Modern-day hand bookbinders and watchmakers. That one good line from that awful poem you wrote in seventh grade. Everything cringeworthy about your favorite band’s first demo tape.

INTP: Home plastered with whiteboards, fridge-freezer door painted with chalkboard paint for good measure so you can deal with your brainstorms whenever you have them. Chindōgu, the Japanese art of coming up with creative solutions to minor everyday annoyances that are ultimately useless because people would be too embarrassed to use them, such as the famous noodle splash guard. Fringe sports. Like curling. Disc golf. Or robot soccer. The USS Enterprise-shaped pizza cutter. Setting Wikipedia’s Randompage as your homepage, never getting started on anything because you keep clicking the hyperlinks in the articles. Avoiding TV Tropes for the very reason. Getting unexpectedly invested in the debate when it comes to footnotes vs. endnotes. Wanting to learn Elvish but getting stuck when you can’t decide between Quenya and Sindarin. Also maybe wanting to learn stenography. Or steganography. Or how to play the contrabass balalaika.

ISTP: Blue jeans, white shirt, vintage leather jacket. Wishing the multiplayer trend in gaming would go away because you like the sense of personal responsibility found in a classic adventure but getting really competitive at Mario Kart. Cherry pit spitting. Building your own bed frame out of recycled pallets. Wearing your battle scars with pride. That one delinquent character in a highschool anime setting with the key to the forbidden rooftop. Just… sitting on rooftops. When the silence between two people isn’t awkward at all but feels natural for once. Knees grazed from skateboarding, callused fingers from playing guitar. Collecting vintage horror pulp zines. Or baseball cards. Or pocket knives. Tinkering things apart and putting them back together again to see how they work. Patching up your worn-out combat boots with shoe goo to grant them another chance at life. The rewarding view from the summit after a particularly challenging hike.

Those utterly perfect movie scenes. Like when Luke Skywalker gazes into Tatooine’s evening sky, Binary Sunsets is playing, and nothing fucking happens but you feel that this, this is the very moment he realizes he might just be stuck on that dead-ass planet for the rest of his life and he’s mourning the life he’ll never have, or maybe he’s actually deciding he’s indeed made for greater things, who knows, but the sheer significance is there for everyone to forever burn onto their retinas. You know the scenes. Not being intimidated by an empty canvas but excited about the unlimited possibilities contained within. Decorating your dorm room with washi tape. Meticulously consistent editing of pictures so to not disrupt the flow of your Instagram feed. The plethora of colours light shines onto a soap bubble. Bath bombs. Sidewalk chalk. Not necessarily studying but always stocking up on cute stationery. Having strong opinions on the fonts used in movie end credits (Wes Anderson has a thing for Futura, by the way). The brand of escapism embodied in a Lana Del Rey video.


The Scarlet Witch can tap into mystic energy for reality-altering effects; this power was formerly limited to the creation of “hex-spheres” of reality-disrupting quasi-psionic force to cause molecular disturbances in a target’s probability field, resulting in spontaneous combustion, deflection of objects in flight, and so on. 

She later became able to alter reality on a far greater scale, creating entire armies of enemies from nowhere. Although the Scarlet Witch has been trained in basic sorcery techniques, she lacks the specialized mystic training required to fully control her power. 

Coffee with Bucky

I wrote this a while back, it’s crap but it’s an excuse to use ALL my favourite Sebastian images <3

Then I realised it’s a Friday night and I’m just sitting here in my pyjamas googling Sebastian images and that I really am quite the loser.


Catching a train at 5.30am was never fun. But living in the middle of nowhere with hardly any trains, there wasn’t’ much choice. You’d got it down to a fine art now though. From rolling out of bed, rolling into the shower, and then walking, half-asleep, to the station, you could do it all in 30 minutes. Then it was queueing up at the one open coffee shop just outside the station for your regular order, standing on the platform, getting on board, and slumping into your seat.

And then. Then, technically, you could doze off, for the 90 minute journey. Or you could read a book, or do some work, or teach yourself a new language, or anything. But you didn’t. What you did do was to find excuses to stare, subtly, at the only other person who got on the train at your station.

You’d first noticed him about two weeks ago. You were used to being practically the only person on the platform. There were the occasional business-suited people, or travellers with suitcases off for an early plane. But he stood out, somehow. He’d been just ahead of you in the coffee queue, then he’d walked up onto the platform in front of you and, yes, you looked. He was wearing a very well-cut suit that day, and when he was three stairs above you, your eye line, was, well, you had no choice, right?

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If you just buy your dog a service dog jacket because u want your dog with you and they are not properly trained and qualified, not only are you bringing with an enormous inconvenience to everyone just trying to do their jobs, you are exploiting and abusing laws put in place to help disabled people and put horrible misconceptions in people’s heads about how they are supposed to behave (because no matter how well u can get ur dog to roll over they are guaranteed nowhere near as disciplined as trained service dogs)

What you are doing is not harmless. You are making life harder for disabled people who actually NEED their dog. Get over your privileged self-entitlement, asshat

Imagine Yamaguchi spraining his ankle and Tsukki and him riding the train somewhere one day and there’s nowhere to sit because the train is busy. Finally, Tsuki finds a seat, and tries to get Yamaguchi to sit, but he won’t, insisting that he’d done a lot of work at practice and deserved to sit. Tsukki wouldn’t mind, normally, but Yamaguchi is injured, and doesn’t want him standing on a sprained ankle, so he does the only thing he can think of: he sits in the seat and pulls Yamaguchi into his lap. They’re both blushing messes, but even as seats clear up, neither makes the move to have Yamaguchi sit somewhere else and they spend the entirety of the ride like that.