type : appearances

NCT’s ideal types

So I’m writing the ideal types for Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan and Jaemin, but I’m stuck on ideas for them :’-( What do you think their ideal types would be, appearance or personality wise? Even if it’s only a couple of points, it’ll really help me with getting the ideas flowing 💜 💜 💜  like srsly just describe urself if one of them are ur bias and i will write it down lmao

2

“You know, you don’t get to decide what I am.”

Sarah // my favourite new character from Season 2 of The Man in the High Castle (I love her and am always here for more badass resistance ladies! \o/)

Derek finds Will on a beach in Maine, just as the sun is beginning to set, and when he gets out of his car, he’s struck once again with how fucking beautiful Will looks.

The orange glow the sunset is casting makes his hair look almost gold, matching the dark yellow of the flannel he was wearing (and with a jolt, Derek realizes that the flannel is his, one he hadn’t seen in ages, just a little big on Will).

Will’s sweats are rolled up to his knees, sand flecked up his shins and covering his feet, and he looks more loose and at home than Derek has seen him in a long while, and he’s almost sure if he could see Will’s face, there would be a small smile on his face as he looks out on the water.

But then again, Derek can never be sure of what Will’s thinking, even after all these years.

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MBTI Physical Appearance

Hey guys so recently I read a article about Sheldon’s body personality research. It’s basically a cool study showing how sometimes people with similar personalities have similar body types.
I thought I would conduct my own survey with mbti types and their physical appearance!

I’ll post results once I get a good amount of response.
Please take the survey and reblog!

consider: cameos for both Cassian & Jyn in the Han Solo movie, wherein they narrowly miss meeting each other

Me Against You

PART 1, PART 3

A/N: The positive feedback for the first part of the story has been overwhelming, and I am so happy that you guys liked it! It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but there will be a total of six stories set in this verse before I post another story!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like this installment!! 


Your recent fight with Peter makes it difficult to come back to the airport. Your talk with him about trust and friendship haunts you, and you try to imagine him fighting. Who’s winning? Is it us, or them? Since when had there been an ‘us’ or a ‘them’? Is he getting beaten up? You know it’s ironic, considering that you’ve just shoved Peter out a window, but there’s still a small part of you hoping that the others will go easy on him.

Try as you might, you can’t just erase years of friendship with a snap of your fingers.

Those traitorous tears well up again, and you swipe them aside impatiently. There will be time to cry later, to mourn what you have lost. Now, you have to keep yourself from falling apart so you can give your best in the fight.

A large jet sits in the middle of the hangar floor, large enough to carry at least ten people. It vaguely resembles a shark, with a sharp nose, sleek body and wings for steering. Ex-agent Barton had explained earlier that for each ship, there’s supposed to be a pilot, co-pilot, two wing-men to control the computer-aided blasters, and a flight leader to check the route, communicate with the team leader and base, and carry out other administrative tasks.

“The hatch, get the hatch open,” You mumble to yourself, your fingers finding the button on the side of the jet.

With a hiss, the hatch pops open, and a ramp slides out. You run inside, keeping a careful eye on the doors to the hangar. You’d managed to wrench them shut with a flick of your hand, but there’s no telling how long it’ll take before someone gets them open again.

Inside you find walls that are black where they aren’t covered by grids upon grids of back-lit buttons, all different colors and sizes, as well as switches and meters to measure pressure, missile inventory and engine heat. There are three radar screens, each on a different scale, a blinking ship schematic, and seats with sleek black helmets on each seat. Fully realizing that your actions mean life or death to your team, you sit in an unfamiliar cockpit, flex your fingers over the controls, and hoping you remember everything that you’ve been told.

The main steering, if you remember right, is essentially simple: A joystick for direction and levers for speed and nose angle. Examining row upon row of buttons before you, you crank the engines on to full power. There’s no ensuing explosion, only a quiet whir that fills the cockpit. It’s safe to assume that you haven’t set off any laser beams or worse – the self-destruct sequence. You press a few more buttons, stowing the wingtip blasters and lasers to make the ship as sleek as possible.

Done.

You rise from the cushy driver’s seat, only for your rear end to plant itself back on the chair with an anticlimactic umph! Your left arm is pinned securely to the armrest, held firmly in place with a length of white string that’s a lot stronger than it looks. You squirm in your seat, trying to wriggle out of the sticky mess coating the length of your arm, but unless you want to walk around with a chair glued to your arm, it looks like you’re stuck in place.

And for the second time in an hour, you scream in frustration. “Peter! Let me go!”

(Y/n), please,” Peter’s voice is soft and familiar. At least it’s him, and not that scary-looking guy in the black cat suit. Your heart swells in relief when you see that he looks relatively unscathed from his abrupt tumble out the window, but the sight of him makes you feel sick all over again about what you’ve done, what you’ve said – and his willingness to toss aside years of friendship for Tony Stark. “We need to talk.”

“You have the worst timing,” You snap, baring your teeth at him. “We’re in the middle of a fight!

“I know. You just shoved me out of a window.”

It was meant to be a joke. It would be so easy to laugh. But you don’t. You can’t.

“You were beating Sam and Bucky up! I couldn’t just stand aside and let you!” You retort, eyeing the webs gluing your arm to the chair. “How do these even come off?”

“Well, you have to use a cleaner – But that’s not the issue here! About me being Spiderman … I wanted to tell you. I really did. But there wasn’t a good time, and it wasn’t safe. If – If people knew that you knew, well –”

You should be touched that Peter’s looking out for you, that he’s concerned about your safety. It was as he’d said; if people knew about his friends, they might be tempted to use them against him. But you’re angry at him for lying. It wasn’t as if the omissions were harmless. If you’d known, you could have done something. You could have helped. You could have avoided many a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, worrying and fretting about what your best friend was getting up to. And you wished that he’d given you a say in the matter. Surely you were more than capable of making up your own mind about what was dangerous and what was not.

“I can take care of myself,” You say instead, staring at a black-tinted helmet and making it hover a few inches in the air. It bobs up and down, held in place with the power of your mind. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

It’s enough to coax a laugh out of Peter. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh since you’d gotten to Germany, and your heart feels lighter almost instantly. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t know about those, either. Until today. How long …?”

“Not long,” You lie – if he can, then so can you. “Discovered them about a week ago.”

You’ve had them for as long as you can remember. Your parents had discovered that you had a strange and startling ability – you could move objects with your mind. Your mom first realized it when you’d held out a hand, and a toy had floated up from the floor and into your hand. Since then, you’d quietly worked on developing the skill, as a game at first, and then more seriously, when it had become clear that the world was changing.

But you’d never used your powers to hurt anyone before.

Until today.

“Uh, what about you and Captain America?”

“He asked for my help. I couldn’t say no.” Gracelessly, the helmet drops to the floor with a thunk, rolling under one of the seats. “What about you and Stark?”

“Oh, uh, Mr Stark dropped by the house, and –”

“– And bribed you with a brand-new suit in exchange for your help?”

Peter protests weakly, “It wasn’t a bribe! He just saw a couple of those videos on YouTube, and he kind of discovered who I was –”

Blackmail? If you survive this, you’d like to slap Tony Stark, something you’ve never done to anybody in your life.

“And you’re still fighting for this guy? Peter, come on!” You turn your head and gape incredulously at him, almost unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “How can you be so blind? Do you know what’s really going on here? Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

Spiderman? More like Mr Stark’s Little Lapdog. And why didn’t his Mr Stark tell him about the five other assassins on the loose? Or doesn’t he think it’s important?

“Mr Stark isn’t the bad guy here! It’s you, and –” He breaks off, swallows. He doesn’t want to start a fight; he’s purposely skirting around words that might set you off. “There are rules, there are the Accords, you can’t just ignore them. You can’t. That makes you –”

Dangerous. A criminal.

You stare. This isn’t Peter. It can’t be him. For one moment, your mind flashes forwards to the situation, rapidly spiraling out of your control. You want to close your eyes. You want to cover your ears, and you want for all this not to be happening. You want to wake up in bed. Instead, a hysterical laugh bubbles its way out of your throat.

Peter’s still talking, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “– But Mr Stark said that if you and the others surrendered, he could work some kind of deal out.”

He doesn’t understand.

Is he even listening to himself?

The chasm within you that Peter’s opened up grows wider, wider, and more blackness sweeps inside. You could almost drown in it.

Arrest me, then! Lock me up and throw away the key!” That sour surge of satisfaction comes back all over again when Peter flinches away from the rising inflection in your voice. Causing pain with words is new for you. You wonder if this is a new power of yours. “Just don’t come running back when this is all over!”

The anger is white-hot, scorching and burning everything in its path. It’s almost enough to wash away all the guilt that you feel for shoving Peter out the jet and into a concrete wall.

Almost.

off limits | 02 (m)

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin 
words: 7,520
summary: you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

» playlist | 01 | 02

a/n: if you squint, you can see the beginnings of a plot haha!

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