this is shit but it was still in my stash so it had to be posted one day

Warframe personalities from how I see them, by my first glance at them.

Heads up, this is a long post. Enjoy~!

Ash: Aloof mofo with a stabbing habit. could rob you of all your money in texas hold ‘em. Too much damn side eye. Kills everyone is the room, then breaks for coffee like nothing happened. Ninja who steals the last slice of cake from the fridge.

Atlas: would kick your ass then be your best bro. is dead inside? somewhat likely but can’t tell anymore. makes shitty jokes. I get he’s a one punch man stone golem, but c’mon, the guy gives pretty good hugs.

Banshee: Resting bitch face, but is sound sensitive so she has a reason. Most likely up to god knows what hours listening to music enjoying synethesia sensations. Knows a thing or two about where to find the best obscure books. Caring protective friend.

Chroma: Moody guy who just wants some fucking peace and quiet. Hoards things like trophies from kills, bet this guy has so many hunting trophies? ffs, his ult is a dragon pelt, might as well be a dragon! Really good at pissing off people without even trying.

Ember: Sassy friend wants all the tea. Best booty to boot. You see that guy over there? He’s on fire. She fucking murdered him with sick comebacks. Don’t get me wrong though, she might like her bacon crispy but she’s a pretty loyal friend. Probably would come get your ass for a revive with intent to raze the fucking field with wildfire.

Equinox: Calm balanced friend??? Has two sides she shows to different people, everyone who talks to her might find something different about her. Likes keeping a lot of houseplants in her room in the dojo. Courteous and polite and gives the best backhanded compliments under a pleasant facade.

Excalibur: Average Joe. Good at a lot but not the best, really doesn’t give his best. Very athletic. rushes through missions impatiently. Might play too many hack’n’slash games in his spare time.

Frost: Stoic, quiet, probably has some thought going on at all times. Reads a lot of mythology from before the orokin era. Procrastinates and stalls for his buddies while holding down the fort. solid person to talk to if you need someone to listen.

Hydroid: The guy has enough mentions about tentacle porn, it’s safe to say he’s hoarding a hentai stash somewhere. or people assume. just a guy who loves the water, could talk for days about fish and where to find all the best seafood restaurants. has had enough people mentioning pirates around him. has a good, hearty laugh.

Inaros: Tired, always fucking tired. Sleep? I’ll sleep when I’m dead. if you can kill me, that is. Mmm. nom. Corpus tastes metallic. Grineer tastes like really bad slimy chicken. I’m not sharing what infested taste like. Shields? What the heck is that? Appreciates old architecture and hoards ayatan statues.

Ivara: Sneaky sneaky~ I got an arrow for just about any job. Just because i am a cyclops doesn’t mean i don’t have depth perception, dumbass. Carefree happy lady, fun to talk to. Makes lots of banter with teammates on missions.

Limbo: Trolls might love this guy, why doesn’t he have a fedora helmet yet? I’ve not seen enough Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure to know what those references mean. He’s a real gentleman, very inquisitive. He’s a scientist? Aw, cool. Prolly spacing out while carousing through the rift, thinking about his next project.

Loki: The Cheeseframe is what people call him. Knows where all the loot is, all the time. Giggling and pulling pranks 24/7. Can do shit effortlessly and stares at his team wondering why the fuck the had to trigger the damn alarm in a mission. Also, hammerhead shark. This guys likes playing card games too.

Mag: In a state of calm and panic at the same time. Doesn’t show much though. Magnetic personality? Could crush your heart in a minute. Has a good taste in interior design, rather good at art deco/ industrial. Has some walls to get through before befriending her, but melts like a marshmellow when ya do.

Mesa: 360 no scope!!! It’s high noon! okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s keep going. Keeps an orderly schedule, off doing solo missions all the time. Loves a good movie, could talk about her favorite film for hours. Deserts are dry? So is her humor. Would shoot you without even thinking.

Mirage: You thought Loki’s pranks were bad? At least her enemies get these night mare shows and not you. This chick loves horror films, special effects make up and disco. Pretty good at good at lighting up the room and your smile. She really just wants a good time, okay?

Nekros: Sick mofo who tells dead baby jokes. Has some interesting kinks. Rarely eats, if ever. Would look you dead in the eye and try to tell you bad puns seriously as possible. Has seen the dead walk again, thinks they’re best buddies. good guy to go to a graveyard with.

Nezha: Srsly good looking.. guy? girl? oh idc he can be genderfluid and i’d still think he’s attractive. Got serious hula skills. Never takes himself seriously and just loves going for long missions. Knows a thing or two about culture, rather classy guy but can be a bit childish. Never really grew up, but you don’t notice that behind the charm.

Nidus: This is the I-don’t-give-a damn guy. He wrecks everything he touches, spreads space aids, yet his personality is far from cancer. Very good with animals. A bit messy. Too many damn things talking in his head from the infested and ignores them like a champ. They bend to his will.

Nova: A Good Egg, if slightly cracked. Giggles at the mention of inane words. Everything explodes!!! ADHD in a frame. Good natured wholesome friend who loves everyone. Bad habit of breaking appliances and electronics. Geiger counters near her start playing Imagine Dragon’s Radioactive?

Nyx: Look at this frame. You took a good warframe and gave it anxiety, sheesh. Shy, kinda hard to deal with hearing everyone’s thoughts sometimes. ain’t got time for your drama. Loves talking about current events, but not much of a gossip out of respect for others. giant personal space bubble, do not touch!

Oberon: Royal pain in the ass, but a lovable doofus so you kinda just let it go. Very protective dad friend, complete with dad jokes. Probably would like to finish your sandwich if you’re not gonna eat it. Would open his home to you if you needed a couch to surf on.

Octavia: This girl loves all music, could help you find just the mix you were looking for. Got sick dance moves too. Might have been in band. Would happily binge watch any tv show with you and discuss everything about it. You don’t know what so charming about her, but you really like her so you always accept her invites. Had a bad habit of fidgeting.

Rhino: This guy could bench press a grineer ship in one hand and corpus ship in the other. you don’t move out of his way, he runs you over, simple as that. gym rat, for sure. somewhat impatient. watches way too many superhero blockbusters and devours the comics. Mows down the entire enemy wave just get your sorry bleeding ass back up and fighting again.

Saryn: Oh, good lotus, this chick has got good looks and a deadly touch. Cunning girl could outsmart anyone. Low key annoyed in general. Would back stab you without a thought, given a reason. Knows a lot about cooking. I mean, if you’re going to poison someone or at least know how to work in the biolab you should probably know how this type of chemistry works. dodges responsibility a lot tho.

Titania: flighty as fuck, gets startled easily. graceful; she has good fashion sense. you have no idea where she came from in the room. fairy tales are definitely her thing, but happy endings really aren’t true with that state of things right now in the solar system. too many butterflies, but is fine with it since they help her stay calm. Actually really good at flying archwings, I think?

Trinity: First one to rush into the fight, last one to leave until everyone is okay. Is the Mom friend. Likes to be helpful. Rather much a bitch to those she hates. She may have an open heart, but don’t walk all over this girl. Cross her once, shame on you. Cross her twice, she leaves you for dead on eris, end of story.

Valkyr: Look, she’s been through some shit, has ptsd, the very least you can do is give her a cat plushie and your support, okay? Gets angry easily and has meltdowns. She’s not a pushover. She knows what’s best, she can endure. semi serious, jokes fly over her head. it may take a bit for her to like you. literally a cat frame, you don’t know love until you’ve been loved by a cat.

Vauban: Forget Limbo being a troll. This is THE trollframe. Went to college for engineering, came back out a smart ass. Don’t loan money to him, he prolly won’t pay ya back. Pretty good drinking buddy tho. Reads a shit ton of shakespear to know what that sense of humor really is. Shit poster, meme hoarder extrordinaire. you can have a grenade! And you can have a grenade! YOU ALL CAN HAVE GRENADES!

Volt: Impeccable taste mixed with sharp commentary. Why does he have a helmet that’s a boob? maybe he has a high schooler’s sense of humor? would be honest with you and tell you straight up what needs to be done. This guy likes expensive suits. Has a tendency to be impulsive.

Wukong: Has loads of stories to tell. Good memory. Can comeback from just about any setback. determined and will happily grind with you in missions for hours. Also pretty damn stubborn and doesn’t listen well to others, kinda has to speak first.

Zephyr: Life’s a breeze here, right? Kinda goes with whatever and has a hard time deciding on things. Kinda clumsy too. Crashes raids and blows away the enemy. Usually minds her own business with her head in the clouds.

we may be hollow, but we’re brave

Summary: Even had insisted they spend the night before their wedding apart, because he’s dramatic as fuck, but he ends up calling Isak anyway. Isak doesn’t even try to hide how endeared he is.

Words: 1,248

Isak groans as he adjusts the pillow under his head for the thirtieth time that night. It’s the first time in weeks he’s had to fall asleep without Even, and it’s fucking with him bad. Once upon a time, he thought he’d outgrow this urgent need to have Even next to him, touching him, just being with him always. But after a year together, he feels the exact same desperate ache for Even as he had when they first met—when real love, the kind that comes naturally with Even, still felt like a fleeting fantasy. He’s more or less accepted that forever is in his grasp now, but being without him when Isak could so easily drive over to Even’s parents’ place and crawl into his bed, still feels like the worst kind of self-inflicted torture.

He’d whined to Jonas about it for a good two hours earlier, until Jonas had threatened to hand over best man duties to Magnus instead. Isak had been scared enough to shut the fuck up, but not he’d just pouted silently instead. “I can’t wait until Even marries you, this whole engagement has brought out the clingiest, sappiest parts of both of you,” Jonas had complained.

“Do you really think that it’ll get better after we get married?”

Jonas considered this for a moment, before burying his head in his hands. “Fuck, it’ll be even worse.”

Keep reading

Shit That Happened Sophomore Year of College

since my crazy freshman year post was a big hit, I thought you guys might enjoy a list of some of the weird things that happened this year! Enjoy!

  • someone yelling “BALL SACKS” at the tops of their lungs in the dorm hall while the clock tower chimed ominously in the distance
    • update: door slams five hours later, accompanied by a very annoyed “ball sacks, again”
    • update: week and a half later, someone slammed open the stairwell door, shouted “SUNDAY MORNING! BALL SACKS!” and then slammed it shut and ran down the stairs
    • update: it’s been 8 months. Every time I think the ball sacks guy is finally done, he shows up again at a random hour on a random day and shouts “BALL SACKS” down the hall for no known reason. I am frightened to try and learn more at this point.
  • those two semi-drunk guys on a Tuesday evening that were on a third floor balcony serenading some guys on a second floor balcony with Bohemian Rhapsody
  • that person who was laying face-down on the sidewalk in front of the University Center while crying and his friend was sitting next to him, gently patting him on the back (#same)
  • 2turmt
  • my first real injury in a sword fight
  • people slingshotting shirts off the roof of the English building
  • this conversation with my friend
    • “Get turnt. But get turnt responsibly.”
    • “Life motto.”
    • “Get it embroidered on a throw pillow.”
  • overheard in the library
    • “I dunno, I just don’t think I want to catch them all.”
    • “But you GOTTA catch ‘em all, bro! Don’t make me sing at you!”
  • the guy sitting in the parking lot outside of my dorm, smoking a joint in his car with a plastic skeleton wearing a bridal veil in the passenger seat
  • the RedBull guerrilla marketing teams that would wander around campus giving out free drinks because the campus store only has Monster
  • “You don’t understand, this malleophone is more valuable than my life.”
  • my ASL professor using a picture of Kanye West to teach us the sign for egotistical/big-headed
  • the former Swiss Army Knife CEO subbing for my management class and going on a small rant about Google buying and selling Motorola so much
  • The Smoking Bandit who almost killed me on a Tuesday night, and who cussed me out at 3:30 am a week later, but ended it with “love you!!!”
  • The Sexy Lumberjack Twins
  • conversation a day before the presidential election with my section leader
    • “What are you doing?”
    • “Crocheting. Avoiding news outlets.”
    • “Solid plan.”
  • overheard in line to get breakfast the Sunday before finals
    • “So then he calls me at like 3 am looking for weed and I’m like? Oh my god, no, let me finish this paper I don’t have any weed right now.”
  • “I know he’s kind of a fuckboi, but like… a fuckable fuckboi, you know?”
  • the beer stash in the locker room during spring semester that was liberally used before 10 am
  • “There’s pizza being neglected over here!” -instant mad scramble for the table-
  • overheard on the shared balcony attached to my room
    • “Siri, what the FUCK”
  • before a painfully early class
    • “I can’t recall where my phone is.”
    • “There’s a pun in there somewhere, who wants to take it?”
    • “Give me 20 minutes to finish my coffee first.”
  • LGBT Studies professor: “my gay agenda is maple syrup”
  • “I’m an American college student, I point and laugh at serving sizes.”
  • that time I slowly and dramatically flipped the bird at a classmate in the middle of my big presentation and the prof couldn’t even get mad about it because i had good reason
  • that theater teacher who still wears a kilt every day getting a tandem bicycle for no discernible reason
  • “It’s the oboe… of love.”
  • the Numa Numa song echoing across campus on a Monday afternoon like the ghosts of memes past
  • that time I’m 80% sure someone got a blowjob in the bathroom stall while I was taking a shower. It was 9:30 pm on a Thursday.
  • me to my friend with 3 stitches in his arm: “please be more careful on future midnight cheese runs”
  • the heated discussion between some of the music majors in the row in front of me before a faculty concert on the best butts in the department
  • actually this would be a good time to mention that some of the music business majors put together one of those Sexy Guys calendars (you know the kind, usually featuring firefighters and/or puppies) made up of the Hottest Guys™ within the music dept. I’m will waiting to find out where I can order one because I want to laugh at them all.
  • my music appreciation prof: “Using similes with toddlers is wild, I tell you. I was sick over break and told me 3 year old that I felt like I had been hit by a truck, and he asked me what color it was.”
  • this conversation I had with a wind player
    • “Why are you calling [the oboe professor] Bilbro Baggins?”
    • “Because we realized that the mocking name we used to call him had the same number of syllables as Bilbro Baggins, and he seems to respond to Bilbro even worse than to Obro.”
  • the tenors trying desperately to sing a bass part from a YouTube clip of an opera and failing miserably
  • the day of a big concert
    • And I have to go to goddamn Portland this weekend!”
    • “Which one?”
    • “The goddamn one!”
    • “…I meant which coast but yeah, okay.”
  • that Eastern European guy who just… shows up sometimes in front of the UC to sell overpriced posters
  • #laundryday
    • “Wow, you look really nice today! I like your leggings!”
    • “Thanks I ran out of clean pants this morning.”
  • “If you’re going to whistle something in this [the music] building, I’m gonna have to request something more original than Vivaldi’s Spring.”
  • “The art majors are trying to burn down the soccer field.”
    • “What, again?”
  • LGBT Prof: “Can you guys rec me some modern gay songs because all of my gay songs are from the 70s and 80s.”
  • Also LGBT Prof: “I’ve got sixty years of lesbian exes coming through for me, and most of them aren’t even my exes, actually.”
  • overheard in the library: “The gender neutral term for sugar daddy is glucose guardian.”
  • LGBT Prof brought in rainbow goldfish on the last day and the entire class cheered
  • “Shakespeare was a punk-ass bitch and, as an English major, I feel it is well within my rights to say that whenever I damn well please.”
  • I almost walked straight into a pole during finals week because I was falling asleep while walking. Don’t let the internet make you think sleep deprivation is cool and trendy, kids.
  • “Okay, so while you guys are taking the final, I’ll be up here on my computer. It’s gonna look like I’m writing comments on reports, but really I’m just surfing the web.”

anonymous asked:

Hello... sorry to bother but could you rec some sweet and cute yoonseok fics? (Length doesn't really matter) I'm feeling down and my internet is horrible I can't search anything on Google 😭 thank you in advance if you do... I love your blog so much!!!

Peter Pan and the Lost Boy by wicked_lovely (6,323)

Hoseok is cast as Peter Pan in the school play, and all he wants is someone to practice his lines with. Little did he know, he would find his own lost boy this way.

Medicated by sixtieshairdo (1,893)

As they were not allowed to have their mobile phones with them while attending a music show, they were only aware of the stream of ridiculous tweets Yoongi had posted only after the show ended, which led him to frantically worry that Yoongi had gotten himself drunk from their stash of alcohol in the house. Yoongi had not only taken photos of their televised performance and posted them with random captions, he’d also insisted that he loved them all twice, but the icing of the cake was his tweet that he was washing cherry tomatoes, ending it with his iconic Cypher part 3 closing line, “chop chop chop”.

The others had simultaneously groaned and cackled upon reading Yoongi’s tweet-vomit, but Hoseok was out of his mind worried that the stubborn little fool had gotten sick from alcohol poisoning and that he’d find Yoongi lying in a pool of sick once they entered their house.

He didn’t find Yoongi surrounded by his vomit on his bed. In fact, he didn’t find Yoongi on his bed at all.

The Still Point (Of The Turning World) by inkingbrushes (74,943)

Because Yoongi doesn’t know how this started, or how this will end, but he knows this simple fact: he knows that there is a love between them that is much fiercer than the burning sun. There is that love then, and there is that love now, and surely there will be that same love the next time.

(Or: the one where they’re reincarnated over and over again and Yoongi meets a different version of Hoseok every time but Yoongi is the only one that remembers.)

selene, interrupted at his music by jellyprince (tricycleamoving) (1,516)

“I want to look for my mother.” Yoongi blurts out. The weight of his choker suddenly feels more obvious, the crescent moon pendant heavy at the hollow of his throat.

In which Yoongi is a son of Selene, and Hoseok is the son of Dionysus that keeps him grounded.

Bright Light by signifying_nothing (6,288)

in which yoongi’s ridiculousness is hilarious, until it isn’t anymore.

Bitter & Sweet by soranosuzu (10,021)

Yoongi has been going to the same coffee shop every day for over a year now. He enjoys everything about his morning routine until Hoseok shows up and turns everything upside down. (In which Hoseok is a barista and Yoongi is a salty little shit)

color ring by jisoos (1,178)

hoseok swears he’s going to strangle his soulmate the second he meets him because are you serious? mint green? who the hell dyes their hair mint green? au where your hair changes color whenever your soulmate changes theirs.

And all this devotion (I never knew at all) by inkingbrushes (8,574)

Maybe Yoongi is actually really kind of fucking gone for his best friend.

(Also: Hoseok can’t sit on a secret for very long because he’s terrible at keeping secrets, which is only ironic because he loves Yoongi, too, and Yoongi hasn’t figured it out yet.)

Assembly Required by idyllicblue (6,851)

Hoseok finally moves out to live on his own but is all thumbs when it comes to putting furniture together. Thank god for a certain mint haired Ikea employee.

a question of luck by bazooklets (bazooka) (4,654)

It all started, Hoseok was pretty sure, when he was in his last year of college - and his body had gone on strike after way too many years of abusing it through cram school and tests and all nighters to finish papers at the last minute. It all started when he’d had six hours of sleep over five days and fell into bed and stared at the ceiling. It all started, Hoseok was pretty damn sure, with The Guy.

In which Hoseok has insomnia, and Yoongi has a really really nice voice.

are you gay?

Originally posted by gallavichaddict

Originally posted by spatdaddy

Originally posted by sexypapichulo

Request: “can you hit ‘em with that she’s the man ‘wait you’re a chick?’ moment. keep it short and sweet please”

*posting a few really short imagines till I get through some of the longer requests*

requested Carl Gallagher imagine (it’s only 1700 words… that’s short and sweet, right?)

“Hey can I ask you a question?” Carl asked as he and Ian were lounging on the couch watching Wicked Tuna. “Yeah what’s up,” Ian replied, thankful that someone had broken the silence. “How did you know that you liked dudes?” Carl asked; he had asked Ian the question before when he was younger, but this time he seemed to truly want to know.

“I don’t know, I guess I always knew. Why?”

Carl crossed his arms as he turned his gaze from the tv to his brother, thankful that Nick was out doing his own thing and not present for the conversation. “I have this friend, and like, he likes his friend who is a guy but he doesn’t know what to do because he can’t tell if that makes him gay or not.” Carl’s words were hesitant and Ian saw right through them. “You’re not gay Carl. You’ve been thinking about fucking girls at least 50 times a day since you turned 10.” “Yeah but like, I like him, like a lot.” “Like who?” “JT!” Ian pinched the bridge of his nose tightly at his brother’s stupidity, “How does liking JT make you gay?” “Because he’s a dude and guys who like guys are gay, right?” Ian opened and shut his mouth trying to figure out what to say, partly hoping that Carl was just fucking with him. “I think he’s gay too, he’s been like flirting with me and touching me a lot and I don’t know what to do because I like it.” Ian started to laugh and finally stood up, too in shock by Carl’s obliviousness, and started to walk up the stairs yelling, “Just tell him at school tomorrow,” putting emphasis on the word ‘him’ and laughing to himself.


Carl walked to school, Nick trailing behind him, and completely ignored Dominique when she tried to speak to him. He thought he had a slight crush on her, but clearly that was a figment of his imagination because he was gay now that he liked JT. When he saw the familiar camo jacket and Timbs, Carl lifted his arm and waved his hand slightly, making Nick nod as he continued ahead without him. Carl then adjusted his back pack as he stepped in front of the curly haired boy, watching how he casually dapped up a blonde girl, and then slipped his hand into his pocket to stash away the money she had slipped him in the process. He waited until the girl was gone before he stepped into JT’s line of vision. “Hey white boy, what’s up?” JT asked, dapping up Carl and smiling brightly in a way that made Carl’s stomach flutter a little bit. “Are you gay?” he blurted out in response, cussing out loud when he realized how stupid that was. JT’s eyebrows furrowed at the question, “No. I mean, I think girls are hot and shit but I wouldn’t fuck one.” A confused expression slipped onto Carl’s face at his friends answer.

“So you are gay?”

“No I don’t like girls…”


JT was exasperated now, “I like dick, Carl. I’m fucking straight”

Carl really looked at his friend and suddenly her words clicked. “Wait, you’re a chick?” he asked loudly, exclaiming the obvious. “Are you blind Gallagher? I know my tits are small but shit, they’re not non-existent. And what, are you deaf? You didn’t hear my fucking voice?”

“I just thought you’re balls hadn’t dropped yet!” Carl yelled back, “Wait, are you fucking with me?”

JT rolled her eyes, and ran her hand through her short curls; when she had gone through with the big chop, she hadn’t thought she’d be mistaken for a guy so much. But she realized that she might have fueled the fire when she discovered her love of baggy comfortable clothes. So for the sake of not further confusing her dumbass friend, that she had started to have some pretty serious feelings for, JT shrugged off her backpack and tucked her thumbs under her sweatshirt, lifting it up until it was bunched up at the base of her neck. Carl’s jaw almost dropped as he stared down at her chest, particularly at her left nipple where a silver bar was resting. But God clearly was not on his side as Dominique approached him once again, pulling his attention away from the titties. She had started to flirt but he didn’t even hear her words as he waived his hand in a ‘get lost’ motion, a quick “can you fuck off?” escaping his lips before he turned back around to see JT’s chest covered up by her sweater, a light blush on her cheeks. “So I’m not gay for wanting to fuck you,” Carl stated in realization, a weight lifting off his shoulders. “You wanna fuck me?” JT asked with a sly smile. “Bad.” He admitted. JT bit her lip as she bent down to grab her backpack, “How ‘bout you take me out tonight Gallagher. You’re sister works at Patsy’s Pies, right? We can like, I don’t know, get dinner and shit. Like a date.” Carl still looked a bit confused but he nodded, watching as she walked into the building.


Carl sat nervously in the booth at Patsy’s as he waited for JT. Fiona couldn’t help but giggle as she watched him from behind the counter. She filled a glass with soda and snuck over to his booth and slipped into the opposite side, sliding the glass over to him. He nodded at her as a thankyou but didn’t take his eyes away from the door. “You nervous about your date?” Fiona asked with a huge smile. “Nah. Bitches don’t make me nervous,” her brother replied coolly, making her roll her eyes and wish she was closer so that she could grab him by one of his braids. “Yeah but JT’s not a bitch. She’s a sweet girl, who I thought was a lesbian by the way.” Carl laughed, “Yeah well I thought she had a dick, so I win.” Fiona laughed, but stopped when she saw her brother freeze and slowly stand. She peaked behind their booth and grinned before slipping out and back to the kitchen where she could spy on the teens.

Carl didn’t even know how to feel when the front door opened and in strolled the curly haired brunette, her body that was usually clad in baggy men’s clothes was instead donning a black mini skirt and a cropped sweater. Her usually tight curls were looser and she had a little bit of makeup on her face. All in all, she looked fucking gorgeous, as usual. “Hey,” Carl called out, shutting his eyes so that he could internally scold himself for not saying something cooler, and when he opened his eyes she was right in front of him repeating his greeting. They stood in front of each other awkwardly before Carl got a hold of himself and motioned to their booth, where she sat down in Fiona’s previous seat. “So to start things off, maybe I should introduce myself,” she laughed, as she reached out to steal his soda and take a sip, “My name is Jessabelle. Jessabelle Torres. You should know that since we’ve been kickin’ it since you got out of juvie, but I figured that if you had, you wouldn’t have thought I had a dick.” Carl laughed as he settled down across from her, “Well when G-Dog’s boys introduced us they just called you JT and I don’t know I just never bothered to ask.” “We’re dealers Carl, not masked superheroes. You’re allowed to know my identity.”

Carl rolled his eyes but before he could respond, Fiona was standing in front of them with a big smile and two menus. “Hi JT! You look pretty today,” She greeted his friend, pulling her out of the booth so that she could do a turn and show off her entire look. He tried not to focus too hard on her ass, that he couldn’t believe she was hiding under those baggy jeans, and gave Fiona an annoyed look. “She looks pretty every day,” he muttered as he picked up his menu and skimmed through it, JT sitting down and doing the same. They both ordered their food and sat in an awkward silence until JT started to laugh to herself. “What?” he asked, a small smile of his own present on his face. “Why is this so weird?” she asked him and he sighed. “I don’t know. This morning you were my main ni-“ “Say it and I’ll slap the shit out of you, white boy.” Carl rolled his eyes and continued, “You were my guy best friend. And now you’re a fine ass hunny. I don’t know how to feel.” “How about relieved?” “Trust me, I am. I was doing some nasty shit with your Instagram pics that don’t seem so bad anymore.” “You’re fucking gross Carl.” And just like that, things were back to normal. They sat in the booth and ate while they laughed and talked thug shit as usual until they left the diner.

Carl walked her home and up to her front door where he looked down at JT, looking as though he had something to say. “What’s up?” she asked and he placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her from going anywhere. “You know how this morning I told you I wanted to fuck you?” JT nodded with a smirk but let him continue. “I… you… I can’t think of a way to say it without sounding like a pussy so I’m just gonna say it. You look hot as fuck right now in this little skirt. Like, 10 outta 10: would smash. But I like you a lot, and I’d still smash even if you never wore it again and you went back to dressing like a guy tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m saying. I just really fucking like you and what you wear isn’t gonna change that because I’d fuck you in whatever you wore as long as you’re you.” JT smiled and she lightly pushed his hands off of her shoulders before stepping onto her toes and pulling his face down to hers by his chin, lightly kissing his lips and pulling away to see his eyes still closed for a few seconds. “You promise?” she whispered, not wanting to fuck up the serenity of the moment. Carl nodded and kissed her one more time before jogging down her steps and walking back home, excited for tomorrow.

No Matter What. [Daryl Dixon x Reader]

Word Count: 2,893
Prompt: #40“You tried to shoot me!” 
                       “Next time, I won’t miss. Don’t piss me off again.”
Warnings: Language

[Part Two]

A/N: This is my first fic I’m posting on this blog so I’d love to hear what you all think! Thank you for reading(: & thank you to promptsfor-writers for the prompt!

Three days.

It had been three whole days since you had last eaten a real meal. Well as ‘real’ as you could get these days. You had managed to find some extremely stale crackers in a backpack you cut off a walker you put down over a day ago but you could hardly count those. They didn’t help the rumbling in your stomach. You finished off the last of your food stash almost a week ago when you were separated from your group when a herd of walkers came through your camp. Since then you had been combing the woods looking for any members of your group and rationing every bit of food you had. And that wasn’t much to begin with.

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Synopsis: He still has to be chased, even when he is right next to her.

Length: 5734 words

Content Warning:  Rated T for language.

Notes: I have a big fat fucking art block again so here I am, writing some travelling SS headcanons down. I’ve been listening to a lot of Jessie Ware while I was writing this so get ready for a lot of relationship-related shenanigans. *wiggles around*

I. The Land of Wind

“I love you,” she says, out of the blue.

Her words catch him off guard and he freezes, unsure if he’d heard right.

They’d been standing together and surveying the vast expanse of sand that stretched out for miles beneath their feet. The stars that guided their way through the desert twinkled good-naturedly above them. The wind had picked up at that very moment, temporarily soothing the skin of his heated face.

He turns his head to look at her. Light green eyes, full of sincerity and a little of what he thinks is hope, steadily meet his gaze. There was no trace of irony, no hint of a smirk playing on her lips, no playful revising of her words in the seconds that followed. The way she said it was like how one would state what the weather was like today or if a particular meal had agreed with them or not- a simple fact.

It is a part of Sakura that he would never be able to understand. To her, this sentiment was a constant in her life, fixed to her (by perhaps some unknown entity with a twisted sense of humor) like the sun and moon were to day and night. To him, it was an unnatural, illogical, and most of all, terrifying variable.

Finding it difficult to look at her anymore, he turns his attention back to the distant horizon and tries to distract himself with other thoughts. He knows he should be grateful but in a way it irritates him to see that she thinks he is like some lovesick puppy, always wanting this constant, blatant reaffirmation of her love for him.

But what he hates, what he absolutely despises, is the fact that deep down he knows it to be true.

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Characters:  Demon!Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas

Summary:  Dean comes looking for the reader. 

Word Count:   2241

Warnings:  ANGST, Language, Smut, (I will be posting a final warning in the tags, I don’t want to give anything away.  If you are worried, be warned that this is hella fucking angsty and check the notes.)

A/N:  This is my submission for the angst challenge I’m hosting, Nichelle’s 4K Angst Challenge.  I chose the prompt, “The devil follows me day and night because he is afraid to be alone.”  

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Originally posted by bringmesomepie56


Ever had that feeling that someone is watching you? Your skin prickles, goosebumps fanning over your skin, even though it there’s no cool breeze. You shiver, the hair on the nape of your neck standing up. Imagine that feeling. I know you’ve felt it. Everyone has. Now imagine it’s not just a feeling.

Imagine it’s real.

The devil follows me day and night because he’s afraid to be alone. Or at least that’s my suspicion. I know he’s tracking me. When the hunter becomes the hunted, it’s time to change all your habits. Don’t be predictable. Do the unexpected.

But when the one who trained you to hunt is the one that is hunting you, that changes the things. It’s a whole new game, more complex and ultimately more dangerous. The rules are simple - there are none.

I’m not sure what he wants from me. I’m just damaged enough to think it’s because he still loves me. I’m not afraid of those black eyes. I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid of my own treacherous heart. I know deep down that I can’t resist him. I won’t be able to deny him.

So instead of facing him, I run. As fast and as far as I can.

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anonymous asked:

I'm fucking laughing because in my mind the next thing Angus knows is that he just wakes up on the fucking Moon because he was asleep and they couldn't just leave the kid unattended. There's a lot of screaming because the THB's brought a literal child to the moon What the fuck. Taako or Magnus probably shushes them because the kid is asleep and Humans need that shit.

I write one little post about Angus picking up the Oculus and suddenly an AU happens okay fine let’s roll with it.

The Director, slumped heavily on her throne, gaped at the three that were somehow her star reclaimers. “I have. So many questions,” she raised her hand to halt all of them from speaking at once. “One at a time, please. Magnus, I just know I’m going to regret this, but unfortunately I am incapable of asking anything besides: why do you have a child?”

Magnus held up a small boy made smaller by the heavily muscled arms he was curled in. “This is Angus!”

“The pleasure is all mine now why is he here.”

“We couldn’t just leave him unconscious on the side of the train tracks, Director!” Magnus protested, as if somehow she had suggested it. “Can we keep him?”

“Do…do you think he’s a dog? Is this revenge for the Bureau’s policy of animals on the moon? It is, isn’t it.”

“I promise to take care of him! I’ll feed him and take him on walkies and play with him on the quad and everything!”

“Aaaand the prophecy has been fulfilled.” The Director sighed and turned to address the Reclaimers’ cleric cleaning…something out of his ear. “Merle: could you not do that please and explain what transpired on the surface?

He flicked the…something away (The Director shuddered from a distant memory of a small ship and very close quarters) and adjusted his belt like a small-town lawyer about to present a spellproof case made of witty country aphorisms. “Well, Director- like you ordered- when we got down to Rockport, we went undercover at the train station.” He cleared his throat and…oh gods, starting speaking in a horrid and unconvincing Scottish accent. “Ai cleverlee prasented ma-self as Leeman Kessler-”

Hiding somewhere behind Magnus, Taako shrieked. “OH GOD IT’S BACK.”

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how you get the boy - one

“You usually sleep with more than one girl at the same time?”

“What?” His face mirrored my shocked expression and he began shaking his head. “No, Jesus, no.”

read below // story page

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Music Series: Issues by Julia Michaels

I cannot explain how much I like this song….it’s sooo gooood.

Ever since the first time I heard it, its made me think of how everyone…everyone…has issues. And if you think you don’t…that’s an issue.

If you’ve not heard this song, you’re missing out. You can find it HERE, on my Spotify playlist called “Fresh Fresh”. This is “Issues” by Julia Michaels.

Thank you, Anon, for requesting!

And to everyone who has sent requests that are still yet to be written, I promise I am writing! I took yesterday off from imagine writing after a very long work day, and an evening with curry and a book idea I’m working on, and tonight I had an appointment after work so it’s very late and I’m half asleep at the moment, so I will take another look at this tomorrow and check for errors, but I wanted to give it to you before I crawl into my sheets. I’m back to it now so please don’t give up on me. I have several requests to fill, but anyone can send requests and I will keep them in the queue until they are written and posted!

Thank you all for your continued support of my writing! MWAH! xo



I’m jealous, I’m overzealous

When I’m down, I get real down

When I’m high, I don’t come down

I get angry, baby, believe me

I could love you just like that

And I could leave you just as fast

“I’m sorry, love,” Harry said to you as you both cleaned up the kitchen after dinner that night.

You sighed and scrubbed on the fork you had been washing for 5 minutes.

“I know she flirts and you hate it,” he told you, remembering the look on your face earlier that day at the studio, when you saw one of the women Harry had been working closely with, being obvious with how she felt about him. It was becoming very old, witnessing this same behavior from her every time you came along with him to work. Harry pulled the fork from your hand and grinned slightly, trying to lift the mood of the room a bit.

“Dear god, woman, it’s fuckin’ clean, alright?” he chuckled.

You sighed again, draining the water from the sink and wiping down the countertop of soapy water droplets.

“It’s nothing, you know,” Harry said, pointedly.

“I know,” you reiterated for at least the 3rd time since the conversation began. “I hate it. And you do nothing to stop her.”

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart?” Harry asked. “Tell her, please stop flirting with me, you’re really pissing off my girlfriend?”

“Wow, yeah, kinda like that. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” you asked, sarcastically, then rethought your comment. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry that it keeps happening.”

“And jealous,” he snickered until you shot him a look. “She’s very helpful with my work right now,” he said, thinking that was enough reason to say nothing.

“And if I told you one of my work associates acted that way with me?” you looked at him with a raised brow.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Who? Who does that with you?” he asked, his jealousy bone beginning to itch.

“Hm,” you hummed, annoyed.

“Why the fuck do you go there if you know she is going to be there and flirt with me and get your knickers in a twist?” he asked.

“Because I love to watch you work!” you screeched. “Why the fuck do you think I come there? Think I get off on watching another woman try to get into your pants? I’m proud of your work, Harry! I want to watch you work. Is it so much to ask that she not display her goods 2 inches from your nose all day long, and to keep her hands to herself?”

“You trust me, don’t you?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

“Do you think I would still be with you if I didn’t?” you answered honestly, making him pause.

But you don’t judge me, ‘Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too

No, you don’t judge me, 'Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too

'Cause I got issues but you got 'em too

So give 'em all to me and I’ll give mine to you

Bask in the glory of all our problems

'Cause we got the kind of love it takes to solve ‘em

Yeah, I got issues and one of them is how bad I need you

Harry stepped to where you were wiping the same spot on the counter for what seemed the 50th time, leaning against your backside and wrapping his arms around you, his hands sliding inside your shirt, teasing your skin. His lips lightly pecked where your neck met your shoulder.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, conceding.

“Thank you,” you answered, placing your hand over his. “That’s all I ask.”

His lips brushed lightly over your neck up to your ear as his fingers slid down the front of you, rubbing gently over the fabric between your legs.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt our relationship,” he said to you, lovingly, softly nipping at your jaw. “I need you too much to let something like that come between us.”

You smiled a bit, closing your eyes at his touch and knowing his next intentions.

“You’re the only one for me,” he promised, slowly leading you toward the stairs that lead to the bedroom.

You do shit on purpose

You get mad and you break things

Feel bad, try to fix things

But you’re perfect

Poorly wired circuit

And got hands like an ocean

Push you out, pull you back in

You heard the door slam, wondering why he was home so early and why he was slamming doors.

“Harry?” you asked from another room, before stepping out into the living room and seeing the angered look on his face. “Everything alright?”

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it!” he yelled at you, charging to his office and slamming the door.

“Oh,” you said, a bit surprised.

If there was one thing that you think made you and Harry “work”, besides amazing sex, it was that you communicate. You discuss things when something is bothering either of you, talking it out and offering help or advice if you can. So Harry yelling at you that he didn’t want to discuss it with you was unexpected. Harry was mostly even-tempered, but when he was pissed about something, you knew it was best to let him cool off and not push him, let him come to you when he was ready, so that’s what you were going to do.

Having dealt with his occasional anger issues before, you knew a glass of wine would be in order, followed by listening to him say what was on his mind, and ending with a massage before bed. You grabbed a bottle of his favorite from the wine stash, filled a bucket with ice and set it to chill, grabbing two glasses, and walked outside to enjoy the beautiful evening. The sky was full of stars tonight and you could see all of the constellations vividly.

But you don’t judge me, 'Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too

No, you don’t judge me, 'Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too

'Cause I got issues but you got 'em too

So give 'em all to me and I’ll give mine to you

After awhile you heard the door from the house open and saw Harry looking at you, walking to sit next to you. You poured him a glass of wine and handed it to him. He smiled at you slightly and took it from you, pulling a long sip of the sweet nectar into his throat.

You looked at him, saying nothing, just waiting for whatever he wanted or didn’t want to talk about. After another moment, his low, smooth voice broke the silence.

“I fucked up,” he admitted, nodding and looking out into the landscape. “I made a really shitty business deal and lost a lot of money.”

You nodded but said nothing, still looking at him to continue.

“I knew when I made it that it was risky,” he said, pissed at himself. “Shouldn’t have taken it. I was greedy. Should have…” he sighed heavily, taking another deep drink from his glass. “I was so stupid.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” you reprimanded. “You made a mistake. We all make them. If we didn’t, how would we learn from them?”

He looked at you and thought about that, then leaned his head back, looking up at the sky.

“Find the positive in it,” you said, making him cock an eyebrow at you as you giggled. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re good at bouncing back in difficult situations. There has to be a positive in it.”

“I’d like to know what,” he said, dully.

“Okay,” you said, accepting the challenge and thinking. “At least you have the money to lose.”

Harry looked at you like you’d grown another head and chuckled.

“Think about it,” you said. “Many people when they lose a lot of money, they’re broke and in debt for years after, sometimes lose everything they have. Not the case with you, is it?”

“Well…no,” he said thoughtfully. “Thank god.”

“Alright then,” you nodded. “Yes, you made a bad decision and you lost money. But you still have money, you still have your health, you still have your career, and you still have people who love and support you.”

He sighed, smiling a bit more, and looking at you, then pulling you closer to him as his arm clutched around your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said sincerely, placing a kiss on your cheek and nuzzling his nose against your skin. “Let my anger get hold of me again, didn’t I?”

“We all have our issues,” you grinned. “We’re far from perfect, but we love each other all the same.”

Bask in the glory of all our problems

'Cause we got the kind of love it takes to solve ‘em

Yeah, I got issues and one of them is how bad I need you

Yeah, I got issues (I got)

And one of them is how bad I need you

bored-as-shit  asked:

Hey!!! I really love the writing that I've seen from you! I was wondering, if you're still taking prompts, would u wanna do one about Jean and his scars and the other Trojans maybe? Or like one with Jean talking to Kevin about everything (bonus point if some/all of the Trojans are there too). Also definitely feel free to add in as much Jerejean as you want ;P. Don't worry about it f you're busy tho or don't want to! Thanks for putting your work out there and letting us enjoy it!!!

Sorry it took me so long, I’ve been out with my family the whole day and I needed a little moment to recharge after that ^^” I am absolutely still taking prompts! I’ll make a post and write it at the head of my blog when I stop. Here comes yours!

Jean was pretty sure that forcing a French man to be subjected to the torture of an Halloween party was against the Geneva Convention. It had to be.

He sidestepped another sprawled guy that he was only half sure was from the football team. It was hard to say, covered as he was in toilet paper. Jean hoped that he was aiming for ‘Dirty Napkin in a Cheap Diner’ because that was the end result.

Harley Quinn-Alvarez was jumping on the couch. It was Jean’s room’s couch. He scrunched his nose and considered physically taking her off of it, but then he remembered the amount of body shots Poison Ivy-Laila had licked off her bare stomach and changed his mind. He hoped she didn’t swing her fake baseball bat upward on their ceiling lamp.

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Then Again: P1 Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfiction piece I’ve ever posted, so I’m learning how this all works as I go. I’ll probably post this on AO3 sometime soon, but because I’ll need to make an account, etc, it might be a little while before it’s available there.

Additionally, please review! 

I’m excited (and extremely nervous) to put my writing out there for the first time, so any comments, questions, or advice are absolutely welcome! 

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Then Again, Part 1:

(Word count: 1,358)

Living in New York City rarely feels as glamorous as the movies and aesthetic blogs make it seem. Most days, that lively hustle and bustle of our beautiful, always dreaming city reminds me of a horde of flies conducting emergency drills underwater. Especially on foggy days. And muggy days. And Mondays, Tuesdays, occasionally Wednesdays. However, the almost-weekend to weekend days that sprinkle in refreshing breezes alongside bright sunshine - those days pull you up by the back of your collar and shove optimism down your shirt like it’s a cool, wet towel. The city tingles from the ground up.

Today is one of those good days.

Ironically, I woke up exhausted. I nearly spilled my breakfast in my lap (but didn’t, thanks to Peter) and I walked with my three best friends to school through fields of exhaust fumes half-awake. Once there, however, it all seemed to turn around. The classes I attended went wonderfully and the classes I didn’t attend, I’ll assume went just as well. I skipped half of them for the first time in my life.

Besides occasional “homework sharing,” I rarely break rules, it’s just that Ned and Michelle can be extremely persuasive… not that I needed much persuasion today. The suggestion was enough. I’ve been so giddy this week that I embraced the tiny taste of teenage rebellion with open arms. (“Tiny” seems like an appropriate description: all we did was hide out in random parts of the school watching Vines, playing minor pranks in the hallways during breaks, and stealing food from Peter’s stash of locker snacks as payback for his refusal to join us.)

Today has been a great day, and outside of Peter acting a bit strange, it’s been a good week overall. It’s just so easy to be happy with everything going on. Tonight: special dinner with our friends. Tomorrow: Midtown’s academic decathlon team heads to Washington, D.C. Shortly after, my friends and I will attend homecoming, go on summer break, and enter our senior year of high school. My anticipation for this trip, the dance, the summer, and our eventual graduation bubbles up inside my stomach anytime the conversation between me and two of my best friends takes a short dip as we walk back from school.

Despite all of the upcoming things I have to think about, this walk is making my thoughts drift back to the one topic I’ve been trying most to avoid. Why wouldn’t Peter sneak out of class? He isn’t always such a rule follower anymore. And then why leave seventh hour when we all have class together? Is it just a today thing? He’s seemed… off all week.

I needed to stop thinking about him. Wondering why he’s been strangely reserved or else imagining the previous seven hours with him more present in their events is not going to help me keep our friendship normal. Just think about something else. Anything else. Even someone else.

“Should we invite Flash?” I ask. I ask this partly because it’s a question nobody has brought up yet, and partly because the conversation has certainly dipped and my brain wants to sprint away from my control. I even thought I saw Spidey a minute ago. By now he’s on the other side of Queens. Think of something else.

We stop on the sidewalk, traffic rushing in front of us, countless buzzing people behind everywhere else.

Ned and Michelle turn to me with matching expressions.

“And why would we do that?” Ned asks.

“Because every-”

“Oh, shit.” Michelle groans. “Because everyone else, bar Mr. Harrington, is going. The entire team except Flash. For being so smart, we’re all a bunch of fucking idiots.”

“Technically we don’t have to do anything,” Ned says, obviously resistant to the idea. “It isn’t an official team dinner or whatever. We can’t get in trouble for it.”

“Still, as captain, I can’t organize a social gathering with everyone but Flash and pretend it isn’t a shitty thing to do. God damn it.”

The walk signal turns white as Michelle starts a text to Flash. Peter’s apartment is only a few blocks away.

Once we reach the door, Ned knocks. We all know Peter and May won’t be in, but Ned has a habit of politeness that even that few things can shake. After a couple seconds, he unlocks it himself with one of the five total keys to the apartment. (Strictly speaking, May isn’t supposed to have had three extra copies made, but she wouldn’t be May if she paid mind to that rule.)

“So,” Michelle says, heaving her bookbag into a chair. “Music and clean, then Netflix and chill?”

The three of us look around at the destruction our last night of studying brought the apartment. Snacks and dishes are strewn in odd places and our fallen pillow fort is a ruin. A sticky 5 Hour Energy must have splashed on the carpet at some point, given the pink stain to the right of the couch. Coating most of the colossal mess are countless pieces of scribbled-on paper.

Ned and I nod in agreement.

Michelle’s speaker beeps awake and we set to work.

As I gather garbage, I let the music fill up my skull. I imagine confetti raining down inside of it, each piece sparkling with tiny letters that read: It’s just one of those good days.

The only thing that could make this day better would be the presence of Peter and May Parker. But then again, Peter ducked out of last hour, I suppose to get a head start on his “internship” (he’s never done that before though, so the irony of his skipping part of Psych and not any other classes did not slide by unnoticed by Michelle or Ned either) and May has… a job, a hobby? I really don’t know. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing, I can’t help wishing they were home.

May returns around 5 p.m. As usual, she is unsurprised to find us watching Netflix. Over the last couple weeks, we took study breaks by picking out a lighthearted show and making questions from an episode. Today is an exclusively no-studying day, but we can’t help continuing the mini-tradition while we marathon Friends.

“Ah, the Studying-Not-Studying game.”

May walks over smiling, her arms crossed.

“It’s a vital healing process for our near-fatally strained brains,” I joke.

A phone buzzes.

“Wait, Miss MJ! You can’t answer that text until you answer my question for this episode. Were they,” May says, “or were they not,” she pauses, “on a break?”

“Oh god, no,” I plead. “Please, please, don’t start this again! Ned and MJ argued about this for twenty minutes before you got here!”

“Okay, but Rachel did say-” Ned begins.

“Oh my god, Ned! We talked about this!”

Michelle begins explaining with her hands and May grins, walking into the kitchen. Feinting defeat, I put my head in my hands and sink into the couch cushion. Slumped, I take out my own phone. Nothing.

I text Peter.

“Still good for 7:30?”

Whoosh. And now the waiting game begins. Actually, it began at 3:00 p.m. when I sent the first of a dozen messages. But none of them were questions, so an answer wasn’t necessary.

“Hey MJ,” I say. “What was that text you got?”

Michelle and Ned halt, hands frozen in expressionistic flight.

“Let’s see.” She flips her phone over. “It’s from Flash.”

Ned clasps his hands together.

“Dear merciful God,” he prays. “Please, please, let MJ read us a rejection text from Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy.”

We made up that nickname today while cutting fourth hour. Not quite eloquent, but to the point. Plus, it’s almost impossible to say seven times fast. (We made a game of trying.)

Michelle types a quick response and takes a breath, placing her hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Prepare yourself for something dreadful, Ned.” She hangs her head. “Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy is… ‘super doped out’ to accept our invitation.”

“God damn it.”

“Kids!” May calls from the kitchen. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to watch your language?”

Part 2

A/N: The content above is only 3 pages of a current 44 pages. If there are any mistakes in it, I apologize. Tonight was my self-set deadline and I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I would have preferred. (Betas welcome!)

I’m hoping to update again around Saturday, 

but because my weekend is so busy, I’m can’t promise anything. Still, I am planning to update weekly!

Again, please let me know what you think – I’d love to hear from you!

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On tonight’s edition of unrelenting insomniac thoughts: This one throw away line in this one scene that only serves to set up that something is rotten in the state of Riverdale that I’m pretty sure has haunted only me.

(Is Riverdale a state? is that established yet? or is it like Puerto Rico or Guam, a territory picked up from the Spanish years ago that isn’t a state and just hangs there in limbo and pays taxes without representation in direct conflict with the us constitution? or is it just a weird offshoot of Alaska or Vermont that the states refuse to talk to or about during family reunions?  They have maple trees and snow in Vermont, right?)

This scene gets so much more depressing and telling once you know F.P. has been coerced into playing the fall guy for Clifford Blossom and, unfortunately for my brain, raises a million more questions that I fear will never be answered.  (Literally, there’s like, at least thirty questions that i know will never be answered without at least a season dedicated solely to F.P. Jones II and the mystery of why he looks so much better scruffy and slightly manic.)

Like, how long has F.P. been ‘playing his part’ of the town drunk? Fred made a comment about F.P. stealing, but I don’t recall anything him commenting about being an alcoholic (then again, the whole story seems to be written from Jughead’s p.o.v. and what he knows.  This is also the show that refused to say abortion or concede there’s anything harder than weed despite showing a dead, o’ded body in the last episode and continuing graft of political figures.  Which raises another question: Is sheriff an elected position in Riverdale? Is that why Roscoe Keller (is that his name?  I feel like he’s a Roscoe despite the entire internet telling me his first name is Sheriff) was biting at the bit to arrest someone for a murder, regardless of how tenuous a motive it is?  He needed election money from the Blossoms, much like Mayor McCoy, to fund his election campaign?  Or did Clifford merely promise him a new Keurig and pinball machine for the station? Was he so jealous of Riveradle high’s ample supply of coffee and coffee related accessories that he accepted money from Clifford?  I’ll bet he decided on a KISS pinball game.  He looks like a closet KISS fan.).

(Even more ridiculous ramblings under the cut)

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Out-d*cking a stingy roommate. Suffer!

(warning: long story)

The Backstory

I attend a university in Boulder, CO. If you don’t know, living expenses are quite… ludicrous here. Therefore I got an apartment with my 3 best friends since elementary school. We grew up pretty well off in a very upper middle class suburban area of Denver… this is relevant.

As part of furnishing our apartment, every family pitched in $100 to buy this awesome 12 person sectional suede couch. It was used, and in great shape. Everything else came from individual families, but everyone pitched in equally for what we needed. This couch will be the subject of the story.

The three roommates, with changed names, we’ll call them John, Taylor, and Nigel. Taylor, Nigel, and I all study profusely for our technical degrees, as where John has switched from his technical degree to biology to pursue medical school (good for him). However, it was this change that precipitated a whole shitstorm that I will now explain.

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Yawn ~ Jungkook

Genre:  Angst and Fluff

Wordcount: short asf

Hello, everyone, it’s been a while. so I've been super fucking busy trying to balance an S/O, school, and other things in life. I couldn’t sleep last night and I wrote this weird sorta story?? It’s somewhere between a blurb and a short but I’m not sure what it is tbh. So, I’ll try to be more active because I still write a lot, I just don’t post it. Enjoy!
-Admin Ballantyne

“Y/N! Cover your mouth for Christ’s sake!”

“Sorry,” I said through another yawn. Eunji simply rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

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PREVIEW: Caution AU oneshot

This is a standalone, one shot AU fic/chapter of Caution. It is spoiler-free and the full version will be very NSFW. 

You do not need to be up-to-date on Caution to understand it, but non-readers may find it confusing. 

You can read Caution here.

(REMINDER: this is a preview, not the full story!)


Why stalk him when you can get me instead? xoxo, A.T.

This is the fifth letter Charles received, written in chicken scratch on a neon green index card and placed on his windshield wiper. 

He sighed, eyes still adjusting to the garish color. It figures Alec Turner’s signature color would be as hard to miss as his criminal activity. As obnoxious and unlovable as his very existence. At least the brat was a loyal boyfriend.

The letters started mere days after Charles arrested Credence James. The original charge was trespassing, but the fact he was holding one of his boyfriend’s stashes didn’t help matters.

On a whim, Charles flipped the card over. The whim paid off.

The Radisson. Conference Room C. 10 PM.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but this wasn’t it. Your least favorite drug dealer was at a shitty hotel, at an event called “Club Teen.” Judging from the poster, it’s some sort of rave for high schoolers. Why anyone would go to a rave devoid of alcohol is beyond you. 

You’re surprised to learn such a thing exists, post-Facebook. You figured teenagers spend most of their time indoors these days, staring at screens and talking to dirty old men. Speaking of dirty old men, you’re sure to flash your badge at the management. 

Something you aren’t surprised to learn is that Turner would sink low enough to sell to kids. You’ve seen a lot of drug dealers in your day, and many of them prided themselves on having a no kid policy. Of course, Alec Turner was a special brand of douchebaggery. Not an especially evil guy, but he sure was ballsy. For fuck’s sake, what kind of criminal tips the police off to their location?
And that’s when you begin to wonder. 

Are you the dumbest piece of shit cop in the entire goddamn universe?  

Is this a fucking trap?

You are suddenly hyper-aware of the fact every element is the place is working against you. A crowd full of youths eating sliders. You stick out like a sore thumb. 

Why the fuck did he lead you here? What did he want?

Most importantly… where was he?

Alec, though older than his boy toy, could easily fit in with this crowd. You, on the other hand, are a moron. A moron walking around an idiotic crowd with one hand in your ear, the other holding a plate with a slider that resembled a melted hockey puck.

Where the fuck was that asshole?

The music switches over to another horrendous song. That’s when you see him.

The motherfucker was on the stage. That living, breathing bag of hoodies was the fucking DJ.

A scantily-dressed young woman came onto the stage. She was on the poster for the event. Some model on social media. The music stopped and spoke into the microphone.  "Alright, we’re winding down for the night, so it’s time to take it down a notch. If you’ve been eyeing someone, it’s now or never. This is our last slow jam.“ 

The colorful lights fade to dark, a spotlight on the makeshift dance floor. You eat a few sliders as you wait for this shitty rave-prom thing to end.
When the song ends, the lights are plain old white. You realize your hands are covered in ketchup.  After wiping them, you realize something else- Turner is gone.

Songs play from a stereo now. The DJ booth is still on the stage, but Alec abandoned it. 

That fucking prick.

He brought you here for nothing.

Just wait, you think. Maybe he’s coming back.

Like an idiot, you wait. Troves of teens leave. You wait until it’s just you, an empty DJ booth, and fake-breasted girl signing a few autographs.


You storm out, to no avail. You resort to searching a cluster of teenagers waiting for the elevator but see no sign of him.

"Looking for someone?”

The voice comes from behind you. When you whip around, he’s against the wall, cool as a cucumber. He’d been there the entire time. You’re sure of it. He watches you look for him. You’re caught red-handed… not literally this time.

(continued below, mobile may not give the option to read the rest)

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anonymous asked:

hey hey if youre still doin stuff do you have any other FAHC headcannons??

Sure am!

-Ray doesn’t sleep. Dude is up for like three days straight, running on red bull and sugar. Part of the reason is he has insomnia, part is because he’s a mess and will get distracted by video games. He’ll crash and sleep for an entire day and the crew doesn’t even have to worry about waking him up because he’s passed the fuck out. It worries them sometimes, especially Jack, and they’ll try to force him to bed sometimes.

-Gavin loves expensive shit, right? Anything precious metals, luxurious jewels. Shiny. Golden. But a lot of it is for the character he created. Golden Boy Gavino Free. Sure, he likes the style, gets something out of dressing like he sleeps on a pile of money, but he has no problem with shitty things either. He’s got the ugliest motorcycle you’ve ever seen stashed away for when he just wants to tear around the town for fun. His golden pistol is gorgeous, but he does have a rusty old handgun from when he was struggling to make it big. Gavin has no concept of money, so if something costs ten thousand dollars or ten dollars, if he likes it, he likes it.

-Michael grew up in a bad part of town, with bad parents and bad friends. He had to toughen up, learn to fight, to survive. He’s always been scappy because it meant he made it home, even if his parents didn’t care. By the time he got to the crew, he was a seasoned brawler. He has no quarrels with being the hand to hand combat guy, because it’s what he knows. He can take a punch like a pro and throw it right back at you. The first time someone backed him up in a fight, he was a little surprised. He was so used to fighting alone, fighting to live, that it was odd that someone had his back.

-Geoff acts like a hardass but he’s so completely in love with the little family he’s grown. From the outside he’s seen as this ruthless kingpin of the city, but the boys have caught him more than once snapping stupidly sentimental pictures of all of them or worrying over their safety. If they step out of line, they’ll get punished, no gang leader gets this far by being soft, but the punishment is often short lived and traded for a scolding because they’re family.

-Jack originally dreamt of being a pilot, of having a life in the skies and freedom to travel effortlessly. Things in life got rough, plans fell through, and the streets became her home. After she met Geoff, things got better. They had more money, more experience, safety. She shared her dreams with him and he with her. They promised to rule Los Santos together. A week after one of their largest heists together, Geoff surprised her with a plane. It was a dingy old stunt plane, with ugly colors and some rust, but it was all he could afford back then. She loved it. Painted flowers on it and everything.