i dont talk about bismuth enough but i dont understand how ANYONE could see her as cruel or mean or evil? like, lets take what we know about gems being bubbled; we know that their exact last memory is what caused them to be bubbled, so theyre still in the moment when they get UN-bubbled, right? peridots unbubbling proves this much, at least:

based on her finishing the sentence she had been shouting while she poofed, and her continued movement into attacking/defending herself, we can assume as much?

so we know that bismuth, upon being unbubbled, was probably having the memory of rose, one of her most trusted friends and allies, attacking and injuring her severely. but what does she do the moment shes unbubbled, and finds herself in a strange and unfamiliar location (lions mane)?

shes SCARED at first, almost terrified once she comes out, but then she sees steven! and her first response to this strange human is to be so gentle and soft and KIND with him…

it breaks my heart that both fans of the show and the show itself demonizes her. there are heaps and heaps of discussion about how shes evil but i just cant understand how anyone could see her like that and she deserves better. thanks for your time thats all

Even Still

A/n: So this was kind of a quick write and it focuses more on emotion than plot, but I’m proud of it. Hope you enjoy!

Betty: I still have your flannel. Are you ever going to pick it up?
Jughead: I don’t have time to get over there. 
Betty: Well I don’t want it.
Jughead: Then I guess you’ll have to bring it to the trailer.
Betty: Fine. Tomorrow. After school.

Betty locked her phone screen and hurled the device onto her bed, trying and failing to fight back the oncoming fit of tears. Every part of her body ached. 

How did she end up here? Just months ago she and Jughead had been closer than ever. So in love and so happy. 

And then the town had to go and fall into a civil war. 

Betty trudged through the next day, barely present in any of her classes as her stomach churned with anxiety. It felt like every five minutes she had to remind herself to unfurl her fists, her nails cutting into the skin bit by bit until the skin finally gave way. 

When the day finally ended Betty practically bolted off campus, making her way to the trailer park in record time. The second she saw that trailer door, however, she froze. Was she really ready for this? Once she returned his things she’d likely never speak to him again. With the town divided the way it was it’s not like she was going to casually run into him at the grocery store. 

“C’mon Betty,” she whispered to herself, “you can do this.” She gripped his flannel even tighter before reaching up and knocking on the door.

A few seconds passed before she heard movement, her chest tightening as heavy footsteps approached the door. 

The door swung open and there he was. Betty’s heart stopped short. He looked… undone. His hair was ragged and beanie-less, his shirt was wrinkled and his eyes were tired. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Oh my god, Juggie, are you okay?” Betty instantly became concerned, reaching out to touch his cheek before remembering herself and pulling back. “Sorry.” She apologized, her shoulders deflating as she stared down at her shoes. 

They stood in silence for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say. 

“Do you -” Jughead finally spoke, “Do you want to come in?”

Betty wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Just being near him made her want to scream. She didn’t want to stay, she wanted to run away and never look back. But years of practiced politeness was too much for her to resist, so she stepped past him and into the trailer.

The living room was surprisingly messy. Not in the way it had been when FP was on a booze binge, but definitely not as nice as Jughead tried to keep it. Jughead sat down on one of the couches and Betty sat on the other, the distance between them feeling foreign and awkward.

Betty set the flannel on the coffee table between them and rubbed her palms on her knees. He was the one who had invited her in, he could be the first one to speak.

“Well this is…” Jughead trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Awkward? Uncomfortable?” Betty offered, her tone biting. She knew she sounded cruel but she didn’t care. He was the one who had broken up with her, he was the one who invited her inside, she didn’t have to be nice.

“Can you-” He paused, “Can you just come over here please? I can’t focus with you sitting there. It’s too weird.”

Betty looked at him for a moment, flustered, before slowly standing up and moving over to sit beside him on the couch. As she sat down, her shoulder brushed against his and she felt her heart rush. Every fiber of her screamed to back away, to move across the room once more, but it was too late, she was already sitting. She stared straight forward, refusing to say a word.

“Betts, I - can you look at me? Please?” There was a desperation in Jughead’s voice, a pleading that pulled Betty’s eyes toward his. “God, Betty, I’m so sorry.”

Betty’s breath hitched as his breath tickled her chin, her stomach dropping under the gaze of his piercing blue eyes. She physically could not make sense of all the thoughts running through her mind, his proximity leaving her breathless and senseless. 

“Please,” His voice was a mere whisper, somehow felt more than heard, “Forgive me.”

Her lips parted, an attempt to say something - anything, but it was all too much. He looked at her, eyebrows knitted together in distress. His eyes flickered down to her lips, only a millisecond of weakness but she saw it. He inched forward, his nose brushing against hers as he grew closer with each agonizing second. 

Before her mind could truly process a response, his lips were on hers, her hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. She squeezed her eyes tight, the tears that had been brimming finally flooding over, as her heart attempted to fly out of her chest and toward him. She pulled away, pushing him with a gentle hand on his chest and looking down toward her lap, trying to collect herself.

“Sorry.” Jughead mumbled. “It just… it hurts so much.”

“Yeah.” She whispered, her voice growing cold, “It does.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did Betty. I mean, god, I haven’t seen you for three days and I’m already falling apart. Please, please, take me back.”

“You said we were wrong for each other. That there was no more point in trying. That you didn’t love me anymore.” Betty’s eyes were brimming with tears, every word leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

“I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I just…” his shoulders slumped, “I got scared. This town is falling apart, Betty. I just kept waiting for us to be the next casualty. I got tired of waiting, and I just… I decided to put an end to it.” He took her hands in his, holding onto her as if he was afraid she might fly away, “But it was a mistake.

“Jughead,” Betty softened, her anger melting away as she looked into his heartbroken eyes, “Don’t you get it? We’re not going to be a casualty. I’m not going to let us.” She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking her thumb against his jawline, “I love you.

“Still?” Jughead asked, his voice brimming with uncertainty and hope.

“Still.” Betty smiled, leaning in and kissing him again. But this time, there was no uncertainty, no sadness - only the reassurance she had been trying to give him for so long. And for the first time in a long time, Betty could feel him accept it. 

in which flash lives in a fancy house and peter and michelle are far too dorky for their own good.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (THIS ONE!)

  • okay, so like. mj always knew that flash was wealthy, you know. he drives a really fancy car and he wears an expensive watch. his hair is always styled in that…rich dude way. but she’s never really had to face how wealthy he truly is until she’s driving deep into the suburbs, surrounded on either side by houses that keep getting larger and more grandiose.
  • ned is in the back just, gawking. “that house is the size of my apartment building!” “oh my goodness, is that a fountain?” “that car has a rolls royce just parked in the driveway!” and ned’s gasping breaths are the soundtrack to their car ride because peter’s phone died and they don’t know the radio stations this far out of the city.
  • when they finally pull up to his house, there is a large driveway that leads up to an even larger house. cars are lined up and down the block and they seem some people from school walking up the driveway. mj parks around the corner and takes a deep breath. she turns around to look at ned and betty and smiles, “ready?”
  • when she looks back at peter, he has the odd look on his face that she doesn’t really want to deal with right now. “ready, loser?” she asks him. and before he can answer, she opens the car door and stretches. when she walks around the car, peter is waiting for her. “ready as ever.” he answers.
  • she can’t help it so she wraps her arms around his shoulders and he wraps his arm around her waist. they walk like that to the party, peter snug under her arm and him pulling her close.
  • she ignores the smug look on ned’s face when he wiggles his eyebrows at her. she just turns and looks straight ahead, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his fingers squeezing at her waist.

Keep reading

IG : mygirlishwhims
After being overweight most of my life, sometimes I recognize the girl in the left picture more then I recognize the girl looking back at me in the mirror now. I’m used to always having to wear control top pantyhose to try and hide my stomach rolls in a sweater dress. I’m used to walking out of stores empty handed and frustrated after not being to find anything that fit me. I’m used to my family trying to make gentle and subtle hints that maybe I should go workout more or watch what I’m eating. After losing 100 pounds though, none of that is a problem anymore! I no longer have to rely on shapewear to make me feel confident in an outfit 😜, I went shopping at Francesca’s this weekend and could pluck a small off the rack with no worries if it would fit or not, and my mom just told me last night that she really does think I’m inspirational and it melted my heart a little ☺️People tell me that online all the time, but hearing it come from your MOM really means something - especially when for so many years she really just wanted me to get healthy and I felt disappointed in myself that I wasn’t. No one can make you decide to lose weight: no matter how many comments or concerned remarks I got from family or friends or my doctor, it was ultimately MYSELF that had to make the decision to take control of my life and get healthy and it has seriously been the absolute best decision I have ever made for myself 😍💕

anonymous asked:

I don't know if you take fic requests but I love your writing so if you do, can you please write Cassian and Jyn in an established relationship where Cassian just casually sometimes slips into Space Spanish around Jyn? :)

Anon, I am almost positive this is not what you had in mind. And yet, this is what happened! Featuring the most functional version of them I’ve ever written, plus more bedsharing because I can’t be stopped.

Some nights as she lays in Cassian’s bed, about to be pulled under by the riptide of sleep, she hears his voice—soft, lilting—at the edge of her consciousness in a language she does not understand.

It sounds like poetry, the gentle cadence, like words made for different worlds than this one so ravaged by war. She lets the rhythm of it carry her under, into pastel dreams of peaceful, quiet places.

One night, after a mission that almost turned fatal more times than the human heart should have to bear, she finds that sleep eludes her. She presses her face to his neck, listens to the steady murmurs against her ear.

“I wish I could understand,” she whispers, then immediately wishes she hadn’t; perhaps these words aren’t meant for her. “Not that—you don’t have to explain.”

His hand drifts down her back, tenderly tracing the curve of her spine. When he speaks, his voice is gentle.

“I am reminding myself,” he says, “of the things I have to be thankful for.”

She shifts against him, wriggling closer; his skin is soft beneath her fingertips.

“Like what?” she asks.

“That we did not die today. That we are still in this fight. You.”

Warmth spreads through her chest, curls around her fingertips.


He whispers something she cannot understand. Then he bends his neck, brushing his lips against her forehead.

“Always, always you.”

Something bubbles up in her chest, some bright, fantastic feeling she can’t find the words for. It strikes her as unfair that he can express in two languages what she can’t even manage to say in one. All she can do is press a kiss his throat, just beneath the scratch of his beard.

His hand traces back up her spine to tangle in her hair, and she can feel him smile against her skin.

“I know,” he murmurs, even though she hasn’t said a word. “I know.”


(A/N): I’m sorry this is so short but I am sorta proud of it even with it’s small length so! 

Request:  ½ Ooh can I request a Charles x reader (technically x Moira but anyway) based on Lying To You by Keaton Henson?? This is complicated but like, the storyline would be that Charles knew Y/N since they were kids and she was really special to him, and they were even closer as teenagers. Y/N was basically the opposite of him (rebellious, daring, v energetic and funny etc) and yeah they had a..unspecified romantic relationship as teenagers(point is they were basically soulmates) but smth happened to  2/2 Y/N when she was like 19 and she died. Now the actual story takes place like after First Class when Charles is dating Moira (ignoring the thing where he erased her memories) and it’s about how he looks back on his memories w Y/N + how he thought he’d get over her when he got together w Moira but he still can’t?? This was soo long I’m sorry but hopefully you get what I mean? xx

Warnings: none

Originally posted by insanityofthemoon

As we lie in bed, I feel lonely
Though we’re young, I feel eighty years old
And your arms around me are keeping me warm
But baby, I’m still feeling cold
Baby, I’m still feeling cold

 "Charles,“ Moira whispers as she peppers kisses all along his bare chest. "Charles my dear, it’s time to wake up,” Charles groans softly, rubbing at his eyes as the sunlight streams through his windows. 

    “Moira?” Charles asks, hoping to keep his disappointed tone out of his question.

    “Who else would it be silly?”

    (Y/N). It should be (Y/N) sleeping beside him. 

    “No one love,” Charles forces a smile as he kisses Moira’s head gently. “I’m just a bit tired is all," 

     "Well, you were up all night in your study," 

   No, he was up all night looking at pictures of (Y/N).

     "Ahh yes, of course, that must be it,” Charles nods, biting his lip to keep his rather negative thoughts at bay. What are you doing? What would (Y/N) think if they saw you lying beside another- 

    “I could make you some coffee if you’d like?” Moira asks softly, pressing another kiss to Charles’ chest. 

    “Yes, coffee sounds splendid,” Charles hums as Moira gets up, wrapping a robe about her naked body. She gives Charles one last smile before sauntering off, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the mansion. 

   Charles sighs, rubbing his hands over his eyes as he attempts to clear the voice out of his head (Y/N)’s voice out of his head. But no matter how hard he willed that sweet, soft voice away it stayed, like a damn fly stuck to some honey. 

   He remembered the first time they met, (Y/N) had been thrown out on the streets after their parents had discovered the could talk to animals, a mutant, just like Him. He of course took them under his wing and from there a friendship had formed. 

    “I’m (Y/N),” they had whispered shyly, hanging their head in shame as they looked down upon their dirty clothes.

    “I’m Charles,” Charles squeaked, his voice still holding it’s childlike quality. “Say, what is such a young child like you doing out in the streets?” To this (Y/N) sniffled, wiping at their dirt stained nose. 

    “Well, I haven’t a place to live,” they had whispered, shuffling their dirty feet into the cobblestone road. Charles hummed, looking (Y/N) over once before deciding to take them home, he always had wanted a play friend. Little did Charles know that that day he would take in the kindest, most beautiful soul on the planet.

    It was years later, (Y/N) was sitting out On the green grass as a bird perched atop their finger, chirping merrily to the content mutant. (Y/N) chirped back, mimicking the birds noise as they did. The two were in a seemingly very deep conversation when Charles meandered up, hands stuffed in his pockets and a smile of amusement overtaking his expression as he does. 

    “What do you talk about with these birds?” Charles asks as he takes a seat beside (Y/N), placing his arms out behind him to steady himself.

   “Many things,” (Y/N) stated softly, twisting their head this way and that to get a good look at their feathered friend. “The weather, the other birds, what it’s like to fly,” 

  “Do you ever talk to other animals?” Charles asks, staring at (Y/N) with curiosity. 

  “I happen to like the squirrels nesting in your trees,” (Y/N) turns to look at Charles with a small smirk. “I suppose I like talking to you as well,” Charles laughs, taking a handful of grass and throwing it at the other mutant. 

   “Oh be quiet you,” He chided, his smile nearly infectious. “I’m far more civilized than any creature you know,” 

   “Is that so?” (Y/N) challenged, their tone holding a bit of a teasing tone to it. 

   “I’m much more civilized than you, look at you, sitting out here in the dirt talking to a rabies infested creature,” (Y/N) laughs, throwing their head back as beautiful little bubble of happiness rise in their throat. Charles wants to laugh as well but his eyes are stuck on (Y/N) and his mouth runs dry, his throat constricting as he does.

    They looked so beautiful, the light hit their hair just right making it shine in the early spring morning, their lips were curved upwards in the most beautiful smile, but what truly enraptured Charles was (Y/N)’s eyes, gleaming with happiness as they talk and laugh with him, or chirp and sing along with the bird. Charles’ stomach drops when he comes to a sudden realization, it had taken many years for him to figure this out, nearly an entire decade but he loved (Y/N), he loved them with every beat of his mutant heart. 

   It was only a few months later, with the two teenage mutants perched happily upon a couch that Charles finally decided to act upon his feelings. 

   “(Y/N)?” Charles asks as she shifts his position, allowing his head to rest against (Y/N)’s thighs more comfortably. “Have you ever been in love?” (Y/N) hums as they reach down, running their gentle fingers through Charles’ hair. 

   “Yes, I suppose I have,” 

   “What does it feel like?”

   “Well, it feels like a lot of different things- it’s like knowing that every morning you’re going to wake up and see that beautiful smiling face and you know that your day is going to be so much brighter, it’s knowing that when you’re sitting out on the lawn that you’re not going to be alone whilst you talk to the fishes, it’s knowing that the love of your life is only sleeping just across the hall and that at any moment in the night you could sneak out and go talk to them but you don’t because you want them to sleep peacefully,” 

   “Well in that case,” Charles smiles as he closes his eyes, allowing (Y/N)’s fingers to glide through his hair. “I do believe I’m in love with you (Y/N),” 

Cause I found her, but now she is gone
Cause I found her, but now she is gone
Cause I found her, but now she is gone
Cause once I found her, but now she is gone

   God- Charles should have tried harder, he shouldn’t have let them run off like that. He shouldn’t have let them leave the mansion, not with all the rising contentions and all the wars and weapons and-

   “Charles,” (Y/N)’s lip quivered as they reached up to touch Charles’ cheek, their bloodstained hand painting his cheek an angry red. “Do not blame yourself for this, please,” 

   “(Y/N),” Charles sobbed, his hand pressed tightly to their stomach as blood oozed from the bullet wound there. “Oh god, this is all my fault, this is all my fault-” 

   “Remember how you asked me what I talk about with the birds?” (Y/N) asks, a completely irrelevant time to be asking said question considering they were dying in Charles’ arms. 

   “Of course (Y/N) but how-” 

   “I used to talk to them about how much I loved you, your smile, your sweet eyes, your amazing voice, I told them about how kind you are, how accepting, I told them that you’re going to change the world some day, they’d just have to wait and see-” 

   “(Y/N), please, you’re only going to waste your breath-” 

   “I want you to look in my head Charles,” (Y/N)’s voice quakes as they speak. “I know you promised me you never would but I want you to, it’s my dying wish,” Charles sobs at their words, the pain to much for him to bear. 

   “(Y/N) please don’t make me-” 

   “Charles, I want you to,” Charles looks at (Y/N), at their watering eyes and small smile, even now they still looked like an angel, even coated in blood and dust and dirt they still looked heavenly. With shaking hands Charles pressed his fingers against (Y/N)’s temple, delving inside their head for the first and last time. 

   There wasn’t much to see or hear, in fact there was only one thing and he couldn’t even see it but rather he could feel it. All he felt was an undying sense of love, a love (Y/N) had felt for him. It was so powerful that it nearly took Charles’ breath away but he clung to that feeling, to those last fleeting feelings of (Y/N), of warmth and security, of love and happiness, of everything he could possibly ever want in life-

   “Charles,” Moira’s gentle voice is what pulls Charles away from his thoughts. His thoughts clear and suddenly he’s no longer clutching a deceased mutant but rather a warm steaming mug of coffee, made by his very own girlfriend. “Are you okay?” A look of concern flashes her features but Charles doesn’t acknowledge it, too focused on the steaming black liquid before him to even spare her a glance. 

  “Yes,” Charles murmurs, even though he knew he was far from okay. “Yes, I’m quite well,” He gives Moira a fleeting smile before sipping away at his drink. “Thank you my love,” 

anonymous asked:

nr 6 and msr please! I love you!

Dear lovely anon, thank you so much! Here we go. Set in season 6.

‘On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair’

He’s been planning it for months.

Long months spent running after shadows, as always, trying to escape ex-girlfriends, not so common, and trying to find a way back to each other. He feels like maybe that’s their thing, after all.

The first it happens it’s messy and unplanned. Born out of pure relief; he’s alive, she’s alive and he’s in his time, with her, giving him The Look and she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. His I love you is thrown away like the punch her alter-ego directed at his cheek; still burning when he woke up. Just like her ‘oh brother’ stings, just deeper, more profoundly.

So after that he plans. He doesn’t tell her when she asks him if he ever wants to get out of the car. He doesn’t want to and maybe that’s why he jokes, doesn’t say what’s really on his mind. I love you, he thinks, and I want to spend the rest of my life doing this with you. Driving on a deserted highway in the middle of nowhere, chasing answers to questions no one else even thinks about. The rhythmic roll of the tires screeches I love you with every inch traveled. The words never land on his tongue, though, and so he doesn’t tell her.

Mulder whispers I love you to her when she’s forced to share her hotel room and her bed with him in Kroner, Kansas. She’s fast asleep, her even breathing never once missing a beat. A perfect rhythm that he watches silently, guiltily if he’s honest because he knows she hates it, feels embarrassed by it. Watching her then he thinks of later, planning to tell her when the case is over. Look at me, Scully, I don’t want to be like Holman. I can’t make the weather for you, but I can tell you that I love you. He doesn’t, though.

Christmas comes and goes without a single I love you uttered. When Diana strolls into their life, her feelings ever present on her face and her tongue, his plans are crumpled up like a piece of paper, forgotten in his favorite pair of pants. He thinks it still, sometimes, when Scully looks at him, raises her eyebrows and questions his loyalty. I love you, he thinks, but can’t tell her because she wouldn’t believe him anyway. She walks away from him, their shared trust trampled under her heels as she leaves him standing there. He pushes his hands in his pockets, empty, like his mind.

He tells everyone but her that he loves her when they go undercover as a married couple. My wife, who I love. My wife, who I adore. She rolls her eyes, thinking he can’t see it or simply not giving a damn. He at least hopes it’s the first. One night, while on the couch in a strange house, playing a role he hates opposite the woman he loves more than anything else in the world, he decides that it’s time. As soon as this is over, he promises. He’ll tell her. He’ll tell her he loves her and she’ll believe him. He falls asleep before he can have any doubts; when does Scully ever believe the same thing he does?

Months pass and his plans get derailed again. Gun-shot wound to the abdomen and he loses his courage touching her hand, warm and steady. His gratitude of being able to touch her, to see her there is greater than his need to tell her. She wouldn’t believe him anyway, he thinks bitterly, as she tells him she’s fine and to please stop babying her. His courage leaves him again a million times over on a Monday that repeats itself again and again, like a bad, broken record. Like that outcome, maybe it’s just not meant to be.  

The day is perfect. He leaves a message on her answering machine; he knows she needs a reason for everything. A simple I want to spend time with you outside of work and government conspiracies is not going to cut it. A birthday present, either way too late or way too early, might put a smile on her face, lure her out. He can’t stop grinning when she shows up, humors him and lets him hold her. Her hair tickles him, her scent entices him as they stand close, molded together for no other reason than wanting to be. It’s the perfect day. The moment she makes contact, when her eyes watch the ball fly in amazement, just watching, marveling, is there. I love you, I love you, I love you. He wants to scream it into her ears, rather than say it, but instead he just grins against her skin, takes everything he can have. He doesn’t say I love you, again.

When it happens, finally, on an average Tuesday afternoon, they’re both tired and sticky. Having spent half the day in a rented car without air conditioning, Scully furiously trying to tame her hair and Mulder giving up on his dress shirt desperately and hotly clinging to his back, they decide to stop at a diner. Order me something cold, Mulder, Scully lets him know before she makes her way into the bathroom. He orders a coke and a diet coke with extra ice and waits for her at the car, unwilling to go back in just yet. He absent-mindedly plays with the straw, occasionally taking a sip, reveling in the sweet, cold taste he knows will make him sweat even worse. Then she starts walking towards him. Mulder lifts his head the moment he hears the cheap bell over the door ring. It’s Scully, all right. She’s opened another button on her blouse, still tasteful, still professional, and her face looks flushed, devoid of make-up. Her hair, previously having stuck to her neck, gently flaps against her cheeks now. Scully’s mouth opens as she walks towards him and he thinks she is going to say something. But he wants to say it first. He could tell her about the blazing color of her hair right now, how the late sunlight captures her color perfectly, transforming it into a gentle fire, burning him. Waxing poetry, though, that’s not what she needs. Or wants. 

“Scully, you look…” The words shoot out of his mouth and when she glances at him, her hand reaching for her diet coke, he knows this is the moment. He couldn’t have planned this. This is not how he wants to tell her, and yet this time, he does.

“I love you, Scully. I love you.” He repeats it as if saying it more than once will make her believe it this time. She, however, cups her drink, captures the straw and takes a sip. His heart beats, waits, beats again. Say it again, he thinks, tell her you mean it, his mind demands.

“I know, Mulder,” Scully tells him and her voice is as gentle as the breeze, as soft as the sunlight caught in her hair, “I love you, too. I was just waiting for you to say it again.”

Chubby S/O is insecure and thinks Gou is prettier than them

Originally posted by safeforworksexyanimeguys

Originally posted by otp-tears

Hello! If this isn’t too many, could I ask for the Mikoshiba bothers, Makoto and Nagisa responding to their chubby girlfriend being insecure because she believes Gou (who she is friends with) is way prettier than her? Please and thanks! 

That’s not too many anon dear!~ of course, I like this ask and since you asked so nicely, you shall receive!

*Insecure Chubby S/O feels like Gou is prettier than her & boys respond:

Seijuro: His mouth literally fell open when you poured your insecurity out to him. You felt a bit silly telling him you thought Gou was way prettier than you. Guilt flooded you as well since she was your best friend, but you couldn’t help it! “Babe, there’s no way.” Long arms wrapped around your soft middle, pulling you into a toned chest. “Gou has nothing on you, and that’s a solid fact.” Seijuro placed sloppy kisses on your round cheeks making you laugh and playfully swat at his arm. “Okay, okay! You made your point.” You felt him laugh. “Good, now, no more of that talk - ever. You’re beautiful just like this.” You only nodded, a smile blossoming on your face. 

Momotarou: He stared at you in utter shock and was instantly by your side clutching your shoulders as small tears were pooling at the edge of his eyes. “(y/n)-chan, that’s not true!” You never thought he’d have that reaction, you just confessed to Momo that you thought your best friend Gou was prettier than you - it was a silly notion, but it still made you feel insecure. A pressure was against your soft tummy as your boyfriend nuzzled the supple flesh. “You’re adorable (y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl ever, not even Gou is up there with you.” Heat rose to your round face as he only nuzzled harder into your plush middle. “Thanks Momo…” A raspberry was blown onto your tummy making you erupt in laughter. “Of course (y/n)-chan, I’ll never let you forget how pretty your are to me - ever.” You smiled at him as he continued his childish assault on you.

Makoto: You swore you saw some tears fall from his eyes as you laid down your troubles on the table for him. You were having a bad image day and just confessed you thought Gou was more appealing than yourself. One half was guilty about comparing you and your friend, but the other half knew it was true. “No.” Raising your brow, you looked up at your gentle giant. “Huh?” “I said no, you’re so beautiful just the way you are.” You were wrapped in a soft hug - your head on his firm chest as he stroked your hair. “You take my breath away every time I see you (y/n), Gou doesn’t do that to me, does she?” Breaking away gently, you looked up at shook your head. His smile melted your heart as he placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Exactly, always remember how beautiful you are, okay?” You nodded happily, snuggling back into his chest.

Nagisa: As soon as the words left your mouth, he instantly had his hand up, surprising you as you stopped talking due to the odd gesture from your boyfriend. “I don’t want to hear anymore (y/n)-chan.” Pressing your lips tightly, you looked down. You just confessed to your boyfriend the insecurities you were having today - you were comparing yourself to your best friend Gou and how much prettier she was than you. It was awful to think such a thing, but you couldn’t help it. A soft kiss to your round cheek broke you from your trance. Nagisa peppered kisses all over your face, a giggle emitting from you. “My (y/n)-chan is the prettiest girl on this world, nobody beats her and I hope she knows that.” His hands rubbed circles into your wide hips as his kisses continued. “Okay, I think I got it Nagi!” Chuckling, he continued. “Good, I never want to hear you say something like that again, now, come here so I can punish you with more kisses!” Shrieking, you rolled around on the bed - a content smile on your face.

anonymous asked:

Do you ever think that Martin shames Sansa for her pride? sometimes I feel like her whole storyline is one big exercise in tearing down her pride, and, therefore "redeeming" her for her actions in AGOT. why a woman being more tolerable/likable often begins with denying them a range of complex human emotions? Especially when they are feminine. I literally don’t think women who are proud, confident or angry need to be humbled. I think the same problem goes for Catelyn and Cersei.

Hi! You raise an interesting question.

Do you ever think that Martin shames Sansa for her pride? sometimes I feel like her whole storyline is one big exercise in tearing down her pride, and, therefore “redeeming” her for her actions in AGOT.

I’m going to say that yes, it did cross my mind, especially after reading the waterstones letter. Excuse me if I go on a small tangent here, but I think there is a problem with how Sansa’s character is presented in AGOT. 

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“I love you even more than who I thought you were before”

an au where Percy is missing for years instead of months and Annabeth has spent the entire time fighting to get him back

yet another collab with Rachel because that’s just what we do 

  • When she finally gets him back she’s not even sure how to feel.
  • She thought he was gone and never realized what a moral compass he was to her.
  • She has done so much that she’s not proud of. Every time she imagines telling him all the things she said and did in his absence, things she did trying to get him back, she can’t even fathom how he could ever look at her the same so instead she pulls away. Prefers the pain of holding herself back rather than watching him pull back from her.
  • Percy is shadowed but he’s still that happy boy and Annabeth can’t stand the fact that he is suddenly behind
  • They were supposed to do everything together. She’d left him behind in some ways and thrown herself into things that she’d never wanted to do without him. Sometimes even things she never wanted to do at all.
  • Percy sees her the same way he did before he was taken even though nobody else does
  • But it doesn’t feel like a chance to start over. It feels like a lie that tastes like bile on her tongue every time she kisses him.
  • She shudders under his gentle touch. Something that used to send shivers up her spine now makes her skin crawl.
  • She’s not the same fragile girl anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. But gods does she want to be.
  • For Percy, but also for herself.
  • Wants to remember when the sun warming her skin and this boy warming her heart were enough to make her happy. Doesn’t want to have to associate warmth with the blood running down her skin, dripping from a blade that’s been pulled from someone’s throat.
  • Annabeth is the only subject on which Percy has ever considered himself an expert. He sees the way she winces under his touch; how she pulls away from a kiss as soon as she can; sees the emptiness in her eyes that wasn’t there when he left.
  • So he makes a choice. He dives into the new Annabeth, refusing to let her go. A metaphorical drop into Tartarus.
  • Kissing every scar she has from battling monsters and demigods alike. Memorizing every angry wrinkle etched into her face. Becoming someone darker in the process
  • He willingly gives in to some darkness so that he can bring her a little light. He doesn’t shy away from the gory details of her misadventures. Instead he watches with rapt attention, focusing on how her fingers twitch and her eyes darken as she recounts every slice and punch.
  • She feels him growing towards her, reaching like a plant in shade reaching for an ounce of the sun’s consideration.
  • And for the first time in years she feels a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with watching the life drain out of something or someone else but everything to do with this boy who would give up everything, even his goodness, to love her.
  • Percy makes this active choice because she did this for him and when he sees the girl who isn’t his anymore, he wants her to be. It claws at him when he looks at her.
  • For the first time Annabeth understands the full extent of his fatal flaw.
  • Their friends try to stage an intervention for Percy like they once had done for Annabeth. They explain how they’re worried about him and the small ways they see the darkness creeping into him. They don’t want to repeat the last few years of watching Annabeth become someone they didn’t fully recognize.
  • He looks them all in the eyes and tell them he knows. Explains how he can’t and won’t abandon Annabeth no matter what the personal cost. He needs her just as much as she needs him. And he will be whatever version of himself that he needs to be to have her.
  • He embraces every horrible thought he’s had because all he wants is Annabeth.
  • They are all powerless as Percy drops, because he’s made the decision. And he is the only one who is in control of himself.
  • Percy plunges.
Talk to Me (A Coming Home Story)

@peggycarterislife wrote: Hmm idk… I’m dealing with my homophobic family rn… so maybe you could write Maggie running into her family or something like that?? Or some smut? That’s always great Don’t wanna bother you though… and as follow-up, @all-the-gay-feels wrote Maggie doesn’t like to share her emotions AND is also killer in bed and hot af. She uses her body/ sexuality w/ women to avoid digging deeper/ feels. What if she doesn’t wanna talk and throws herself at Alex to use her body instead of words and Alex calls her out on it.            

I combined the prompts, and this is what happened. 

She calls her mother every year on her birthday.

She probably shouldn’t.

She should have been defended as a child.

She probably shouldn’t call.

But she does, anyway, in the early hours of the morning when she knows her mother will be awake, but her father won’t be.

But this year? This year, for whatever damn reason, he’s awake. And he answers her mother’s phone.

He wants to know why she would ruin her mother’s day by starting it off with a call from such a selfish child who could have been such a beautiful daughter, but chose to abandon them all with her filth.

He wants her to know how much her mother loves her, how much he loves her, that she was the one who left them. That she was the one who broke their hearts. That she was the one who chose to be selfish. That she was the one who abandoned them, just like – he’s heard – she keeps abandoning these women she engages in such sin with.

He wants her to know – she hangs up the phone.

She doesn’t cry and she doesn’t think and she barely even breathes.

She tugs on her jacket. She tugs on her helmet. She kicks her Triumph to life and she speeds to Alex’s apartment.

She knows Alex will just be returning from her morning run. She knows Alex’s body will be warm, will be sweaty. Will be perfect.

“Maggie, hey, what – “ Alex asks as Maggie lets herself into her living room, as Maggie tosses her helmet onto a chair, as Maggie cuts off her words with a searing kiss.

A searing kiss that tears through Alex’s entire body, that makes Alex swoon, that makes Alex melt.

“Maggie,” she tries to say again, and Maggie pulls all the way back, fire burning in her eyes.

“You wanna talk or you want me to make you see stars?” Maggie asks, her eyes hard, her voice wrecked, her hands somehow both demanding and trembling, her body somehow both gentle and rough.

Alex gulps, because god, god, god, she knows what kinds of stars Maggie can make her see. Not even your typical G-class star. No, Maggie makes her see stars explode, makes her see supernovae, makes her see the birth and death of the universe in the curve of her fingers, the arch of her hips, the heat of her tongue, the insistence of her teeth. The intensity of her eyes, the relentlessness of her hands.

Alex gulps, and Alex wants, but there’s something off about Maggie’s stance, off about Maggie’s voice, about her eyes.

“Maggie, what’s wrong?”

Maggie grunts dismissively and backs Alex against the kitchen counter, eyes on her lips, on her body, like she’s starving for her, because god, she is.

“Wrong? The fact that you’re not writhing and screaming for me right now, Danvers.”

Alex’s body swoons of its own accord, and Maggie takes her weakened knees as consent, swooping in for another burning kiss.

Alex melts under her lips, her tongue, for a long, lingering moment, her lips parted and her body achingly pliant for Maggie’s aching hands, but only for a moment.

Only for a moment, because Alex knows Maggie.

She knows Maggie, and she knows she’s avoiding talking. Knows something’s wrong.

Knows she has something to say – so many things to say – and wants to write them into Alex’s skin with her body instead of forcing the words out of her lips, because fucking is easier than talking, because I want you is easier than I love you.

So she gathers all her strength, all her resistance, and she pulls back. Maggie growls, and the sound makes keeping from drowning in Maggie’s lust that much harder, but Alex loves her more than that.

“Maggie, stop,” she says soft, she says gentle, she says insistent, calibrating her voice carefully, intentionally, so Maggie doesn’t think she’s hurt her, because she hasn’t, she hasn’t, but god, she’s hurting herself.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Maggie.”

Maggie pushes away from Alex and retreats to the other side of the kitchen, the opposite counter, by the fridge. She crosses her arms over her chest and she glares.

“Why does something have to be wrong for me to want you, Danvers?” she counters, and Alex studies her with sharp eyes and a breaking heart.

“I love that you want me, Maggie. And I love when you’re rough with me. I love how much you tell me with your body. You make me feel wanted and cared for and respected and paid attention to. You make me feel…” She stops ahead of the word “loved,” because god if she’s wrong, she’ll never get over the humiliation.

“But you… you can fuck me like this, Maggie – I love it when you do, hell – but you can’t fuck me like this instead of talking to me. You can’t do it as a replacement. In addition, sure. But whatever’s bothering you, hurting you, right now? You have no intention of letting me help you with it. You have every intention of dealing with it alone, and the only way I get to help you is by spreading my legs for you. Is that right?”

Her voice is firm but her eyes are gentle, are brimming with empathy. With understanding.

And it’s that understanding that breaks Maggie.

She clenches her jaw so hard it might break, and she takes a shuddering breath, and she uncrosses her arms, and she steps forward.

Alex meets her in the middle and wraps her in her arms and kisses her hair as she shudders, as she counts her breaths, as she tries to still her own trembling.

“I got you,” Alex whispers. “I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie responds, her voice full of gravel. “I’m sorry, Alex, you don’t deserve… I… I tried to… it’s my mom’s birthday, and I tried to… I call her every year, but my… my dad answered and it… When he kicked me out, Alex, I never felt at home anywhere. Ever again. Anywhere. Not in college, not in Gotham, not when I first moved out here. Nowhere.”

She takes a shuddering breath and she steps back from Alex’s arms so she can look her in the face, because Maggie Sawyer is nothing if not absolutely brave.

“And then I met you. And then you kissed me, and then I kissed you, and then I… Alex, you’re… you’re my home. Now. You’re my home. My first home, my… my only home. So when my dad said all those things this morning, I… I had somewhere to go. For the first time in my life, I could… I could go home. To you. But I…”

“But you don’t like talking about yourself.”

Maggie nods, and Alex strokes her hair, and Alex dives, because if Maggie can be that brave, then dammit, so can she.

“You’re my home too, Maggie. And I… I love you. I’m here. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. Because I love you.”

Maggie doesn’t speak – she’s far exceeded her speaking quota for the day – but Alex doesn’t need her to. Not right now, anyway. Because the way she lets Alex hold her, the way she holds Alex back?

Those are all the words, all the promises, that she needs. All the words, all the promises, that she’s ever, ever wanted.


Written for @spnpolybingo​. This fills the “Dean x Lisa x Sam” square.

Summary: Dean knows he’s going to leave Lisa the second Sam comes back. But maybe he doesn’t have to.

Word Count: 1100ish

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy this one! Another first for me! XOXO

Dean’s lying on the couch downstairs when Lisa tells him he can have both.

He’s been sleeping down here since he saw Sam, because he can’t be in the same bed with anyone else now. It had taken him a long time to get used to her next to him, too small and too soft, and seeing Sam had undone any progress he’d made in less than a second.

So he’s folded onto the couch, cramped and sweaty and thinking about Sam, when she pads down the stairs and sits down on the coffee table.

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Their Amy; His Liebling (pt. 16)

The moving takes a full week of constant back and forth between Ego Inc. and the house, but the boys work harder than they ever have to get it done. Amy is on constant high-alert with worry that Dark will try to make a move, try to stop them, but he never does. He merely does whatever he can, however, to disrupt the process.

Speak of the devil…

The alarms go off for a meeting. Wilford drops the box he was carrying with a growl. “Again!? Really?” He pulls out his gun and fires a few rounds into the ceiling. Amy reaches up and rubs his back silently. “Not much longer now,” he promises her, but she knows that he’s promising himself, too.

“Once you guys are moved out, you can go to the meetings on your own terms. No alarms, no ridiculous hours,” she says with a smile, picking up the box that Wilford dropped. “I’ll take this.”

Warfstache ruffles the hair on top of Amy’s head with a grateful smile. “You’re the best, Amy.”

“I know,” Amy says, slipping through the basement door into the kitchen of the Ego’s new house. Dr. Iplier is there, making breakfast when he hears the alarms through the open portal.

“Oh, not again,” he moans. “I haven’t even had my omelet yet.” Doc scrapes the eggs onto a plate, shoves a fork in his mouth, and brushes past Amy with a fond tap on her head as he disappears through the portal.

“Good luck,” she shouts after him before glancing down to see the box she carries is another one of the Host’s. That’ll mean it needs to go tot he library, so Amy heads up the main stairs on her way to the roof. She passes Bim along the way as he’s coming down. “Roll call at the Board Room. Seemed like a Full House,” Amy tells him with a sympathetic look.

“He’s going to try to make us stay. I know it.” Bim rests his head against the wall where a picture of all the Egos, except Dark of course, stand in front of the newly built house with Amy and Mark and the rest of Teamiplier, is hung like their very strange family portrait.

Amy gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Bim. We won’t let him bully you guys.” Bim gives a weak smile and keeps going down the stairs. “Be sure you’re back for dinner! I’m making your favorite!”

Bim gasps. “Chicken Italiano?”

“Yup,” Amy giggles as she reaches the top of the stairs. From here, she can see down one side into the kitchen and over the other side into the den where Bim shrugs on his coat and runs for the portal door. Amy turns left where Ed and Silver’s rooms stand adjacent to each other and a cord hangs from the ceiling which Amy tugs on until the stairs cascade down, leading to the roof.

Once on the roof, Amy can see out across the mountains and valleys and over the huge, crystal lake. She loves it here, but Wilford refuses to tell her where it is. “If Dark found out you knew, that would put you in an awful lot of danger.” “What about you? You know, don’t you?” Wilford had smiled cheekily. “I don’t matter as much as you, though.”

Those words still haunt her, the way he said them so easily. It didn’t feel right, not one bit, but she’d never been able to talk sense into Wilford, not since the day she’d met him. And she couldn’t bully him into thinking his life mattered. Amy blinks at the sunlight glinting off the water and shakes her head. It’s a problem for another time.

Host’s new library is bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside. It’s mounted on top of the rest of the house, strung with vines blooming with sweet, smelling flowers around the railing which keeps him from falling off. Amy had insisted on that. “Hosty! You in there?” Amy kicks the door gently, unable to open it herself.

The Host comes running, swinging open the door for her. “Amy!” He gestures for her to come in and smiles as she gasps in awe at the library all over again. This one has more windows, more natural light, so that the place isn’t so dark and ominous. The walls are white, exposed boards with the same dark wood bookshelves that Host has always had, stuffed with tomes, and the labyrinth seems to have no end even though the tiny add-on doesn’t look very big at all from the outside. Bim’s abilities to patch this place together have been nothing short of amazing.

“Host, it’s lovely. I bet you’ll be glad to have it all put together.” She sets the box down and starts going through it. Mostly books and few personal items which she arranges in a line on the desk so Host can inspect them and put them where he wants. “Bim says he’s getting his new garden started in the backyard and that you’re helping him!”

Host nods eagerly. “Bim is very excited to have a real plot of land to work with, and I think that I can help him plan it out to best suit his needs.” The Host offers Amy a plate of cookies. “Baked them last night when I couldn’t sleep. Want some?”

Amy looks lovingly at the cookies and then up at Host, only then does she remember that he’s supposed to be at the meeting. “Oh, Host, I forgot! Dark set off the alarms again. All the others are at the meeting!”

Host’s face falls for just a moment, sending a pang through Amy’s heart, before he gives another gentle smile to keep her from worrying too much. “Just relax. We’ll be back soon.” He reaches for Amy, and she holds out her hand. Host squeezes it quickly before turning to leave. “And Amy?” She turns back to see him standing in the doorway, the breeze coming through the trees ruffling the collar of his trench coat. Host is practically glowing. “Don’t eat all my cookies while I’m gone.” Amy laughs at him, and Host heads out, shutting the door behind him.

Meanwhile, at the meeting, Wilford surveys the attendees and notices there are three Egos missing: Host, Doc, and, most concerning of all, Dark. Wilford excuses himself and heads for the elevator. Something’s wrong, and he’s got to find out what and fast.

Cyber Crush Tuesday~The Post Irma Edition...

So…. when I first came to Tumblr I did something called Cyber Crush Wednesday. I was just so grateful for this incredible fandom of people that I wanted to spread the appreciation and, after this past week I’ve decided I wanted to spread the appreciation once more…

The hurricane that we called “Irma” blew through Florida. It left us with downed trees, power lines, endless gas station lines, structural damage, flooding and, boil warnings for those areas who lost their access to water. I was one of the lucky few who was only without power for about 27 hours; some in our state are still sitting in their homes with no power and possibly no water. My home was spared by the grace of God and, my place of employment re-opened this past Friday.

I was truly blessed and, for a small moment of time I saw strangers coming together to help other’s who were affected by the storm. I once again saw the beauty of humanity which reminded me that I’m lucky enough see it everyday. 

In July I traveled to Nashville for my third HVFF. Each time is more amazing than the last because each time you go your fandom friends become your fandom family and, now I’m going to thank a few of my fandom family members. 

Originally posted by moan-s

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[Miraculous Ladybug]: the writing on our skin

Title: the writing on our skin

AO3 link
“I think sometimes, we just need to do the thing that makes us happiest. And maybe, more often than we think, that fate actually ends up being better than the one we thought we were destined to have.”

(A soulmate AU where each soulmate has one half of a quote that is important to their relationship.)
Words: 4578

My one fic for Think Outside the Love Square! This Soulmate AU is based on the rule that each soulmate has one half of a quote that is important to their relationship. I also decided to experiment a bit with the structure of this fic.. I hope it ends up making sense and causing the impact I had hoped, lmao. Otherwise, good attempt, I guess?

Just assume that even though these quotes are famous, that they’ve never heard of it before and can’t guess, haha.

Special thanks to @mahaliciously​ for helping me name Alya’s fox superhero name!


The marks appear halfway through the third trimester of her first year at Dupont. Alya had just gotten out of the shower when she spots it in her bathroom mirror. Etched into the skin beneath her right shoulder blade, the words follow a curved trail along her spine in tiny cursive. It takes the combined help of her Ladybug compact mirror, her camera phone, and a whole lot of squinting for her to finally make out what it says:

“while loving someone deeply gives you courage”

No capitalizations. No punctuation marks. No hint of whether the phrase begins or ends the rest of the sentence. It’s so different from the one written on her maman’s arm:

“like bread; remade all the time, made new ”

With a quote like that, she could have easily narrowed down the possibilities so that when she finally met Alya’s papa and fell in love, the words would obviously become the latter half of “love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone. it has to be made,” —

But it doesn’t matter anyways, because when Marinette calls her the next day to talk about Adrien, Alya decides not to think too much about soulmates just yet. She’s still young.

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Make Some Babies [Mature]

(Gif credit to @perfectfeelings)

Pairing: Mamoru Kishi (KBTBB) x Reader
Genre: Fluff + Smut
Word Count: 3,775
Warnings: Mentions of impregnation kink, smut below the cut.
PC Users: Add InteractiveFics as a Google Chrome Extension to replace ‘Y/N’ with your name for a more personalised reading experience.

“Daddy, why is your pee-pee so much bigger than mine?”

Mao’s little voice spilled out into the hallway as you walked past the bathroom. Y/N instantly stopped, an amused smile on her face as she wondered what her husband would possibly respond with.

“Because you’re only a little kid.” Mamoru’s voice came, chuckling lowly. “And I’m a grown man.”  He answered simply. “Now keep still, gremlin, I don’t want to get shampoo in your eyes.” Mamoru instructed.

Rolling her eyes at her husband calling their son a ‘gremlin’, Y/N stepped towards the bathroom and ever so silently opened the door to peer inside.

Mamoru was sat in the bath facing Mao, gently rinsing bubbles out of the little boy’s ashen curls. Mao had his usually wide, charcoal eyes squeezed tightly shut and he clutched a yellow rubber ducky tightly in his small hands. Seeing Mamoru’s gentle smile as he ran his fingers through Mao’s hair, Y/N felt her heart grow warm in peaceful joy at the scene. She had never thought that Mamoru would have been cut out for fatherhood, with the laziness, the drinking and the smoking, but as soon as he found out they were expecting Mao? He was the most supporting, attentive and truly doting husband anyone could’ve wished for.

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Will Byers...

does not ever expect to be complemented. Does not ever expect to be believed in. Does not ever expect the smiles of his friends and the gifts that they give him on holidays or birthdays. Does not think that he is good enough. Does not think that he is worth wasting time on. Has anxiety like his mother. Has his first panic attack at eight years old. Sleeps with a nightlight until he’s thirteen. Gives up his room for his little sister El. Sends mixtapes to his brother Jonathan. Saves up his allowance and spends it on everyone else. Gives half of his pay check to his mother every month to help her pay the bills. Does not have a happy memory of his father. Does have a thousand scars, both internal and external, leftover from those dark days. Forgives his mother the day she kicks Lonnie out (she is crying on the bathroom floor, looking thin and frail and smaller than he believed she ever could be). Loves his friends. Needs them to breathe. Can not believe that they ever chose him over anyone else. Cannot believe that they fight for him. Would go down kicking and screaming for them. Would bleed out. Would give his heart and lungs and soul. Accepts the unaccepted and loves the unloved. Is kind. Is caring. Is gentle. Is small. Is brave even though his father used to call him a coward. Loves boys regardless of the cutting insults of his father. Loves girls too, in a different way, but in a way that matters just as much. Is good at baking. Is fantastic at drawing. Loves art. Hangs up his brother’s photos around the house. Teaches his little sister techniques on shading and light. Shares everything he has, everything he is. He does not ever expect the gifts his friends bring him because the gifts are his friends themselves.

Can You Sugar? Let's Be Honest.

*I, fancy myself as an emotional support pillow for the people around me. I don’t mind as long as there’s reciprocation. I mean, I want to become a clinical psychologist, after all!

*Therefore, if it’s within reason, I’ll try to assist in beginner decisions about sugaring. Here’s what I’ve garnered.

1. If you are desperate for money. Sugaring is not for you. You can be close to the edge, but mf’s recognize desperation and use it to their advantage.

2. How in tune with your emotions are you? Because often times, they will be on the back burner. You’ll want to say something, you can’t. You’ll start to feel something, turn that off. Can you separate yourself from emotions?

3. Do you have a plan? Do you have a goal? Are you efficient at managing your time? Because, the money may start rolling in and if you aren’t saving/paying off debt. You’ll be in the same position you started!!!

4. Don’t believe the hype. Most SD’s are 45-70. You okay with a man who looks old enough to be your dad/grandad, eye-fucking you in public?

5. Confident, extroverts win at everything. Life ain’t fair. If these characteristics ain’t you???? FAKE IT. I read in social psych, if you pretend long enough, it’ll actually manifest. Therefore, I’m a rich, BLACK wife with her own side business. (;

*“She does NOT, have a gentle heart” - Game of Thrones on the Dragon Queen.

yours truly,
cherry 🍒

anonymous asked:

Idk if you do these but like type of girl Monsta X would fall for, personality and look wise? To help, maybe written in dot points?

I normally don’t, but I’ll give it a shot. Trying new things is good, right?


He’s the leader for a reason; he has to show off a composed, confident and mature vibe on stage. However, on broadcasts and in real life, he can seem introverted at times, as if he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to him. Nevertheless, he has a pure heart, he’s very caring and honest and loves to be there for his members, so I would assume he likes girls with personalities similar to him, perhaps the same age or slightly younger. A girl who is supportive, funny, simple, fit and cute would be his ideal love interest, I believe. Because of his full schedule, he needs to know he can count on his girlfriend to be there and understand what he does and how. But he also needs someone to relieve the stress with, so laughter on dates is a plus.


Despite the fact that he is often visualized as the badass rapper who you don’t want to anger, Jooheon has still many insecurities inside of him. So naturally, he would need someone thoughtful and sweet that will be there for him when he needs it the most. He’s very thoughtful himself so he’d love to shower his girlfriend with compliments. Music is a key element to him, so if she has good music taste, it’s a win. Age wise, I think he isn’t too picky, and same goes for looks. As long as the girl likes his funny personality and adorable charm, that’s his type. Long hair, short hair, whatever, he will like her for who she is and how she responds to his own personality. 


He may be cute as hell and funny, but he’s one hell of a gym addict, so I’m guessing his potential girlfriend should be healthy. Someone who is interested in her health and would rock casual outfits could make his heart flutter easily. Caring for his body so much, he wants that the girl he’s dating is also confident with herself. Moreover, a good cook is a quality that he does treasure a lot. Like Jooheon, he wouldn’t be too picky when it comes to age, ethnicity or looks (though he has a weakness for girls with long hair). Someone pretty, playful and kind with the others around is what he appreciates the most.


One word: curves. If you’ve got a nice body and you’re confident about it, regardless, Minhyuk is gonna fall hard. His ideal type should have a lively personality and be cute, that is just what he needs and wishes for. Also, if she’s smart and challenges him intelectually, that’s another big plus for Minhyuk. He gives the feeling he’s a little tease sometimes, so that means he would most likely enjoy some healthy competition between him and his girlfriend, usually on childish topics like “who is the cutest”.


Being the youngest in the group and often the target of baby jokes, Changkyun is rather simple, and so are his preferences when it comes to girls. Someone smart, cute and possibly smaller than him is his main interest. If the girl has a good, interesting personality he will be aroused without any doubt. He is the kind of guy who is way more interested by someone’s personality rather than just looks. Of course looks matter for a first impression, but Changkyun would opt for seeing beyond the surface. No extravaganza, no flashy things, just come as you are, as they say.


Now he is a bit more “pretentious” let’s say. He does have this cultured look in his eyes, therefore he looks for such qualities in a girl as well. Someone gentle, well mannered and smart, those are his preferred traits. Being naturally cute and wise is something that will spark his interest like nothing else. And for sure, if she has a good heart and is sensitive, Hyungwon will find it more easy to feel comfortable around her and open to her. As far as looks go, he will probably spot first girls who have slightly fancy clothes; a skirt with a nice top, a bit of heels, and his eyes will go wondering.


Another member who has a bit more refined tastes. A girl who is elegant, not just in the way she dresses, but also how she acts, is Kihyun’s to go. If she’s graceful and has a lovely personality, it will be his ultimate weakness. Appearance wise, the first thing he will probably notice are the girl’s eyes and he’ll check with himself whether he feels a potential connection or not. He’s very caring, just like the rest of the members, so he’ll check up on his girlfriend to make sure she’s healthy and happy, and will love it if she is at least a little bit self conscious and is in a good shape. 

You Oblivious Dork

Originally posted by unflatteringpicsofmarkimoron

Request: Could you write something along the lines of you having a crush on Mark and him being completely oblivious to it and with the help of some friends (Ethan and Tyler) they finally help him understand why you’ve been so nervous around him and laugh a little harder at his jokes and stare at him just a few seconds too long? I’d appreciate it.

To the anon who requested this, so sorry it came out so late! Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it all the same! <3

Check out the masterlist is here :)  

Tags: @kourt-kay @boots-jpg @bananakid42 @mtttme @let-it-go-and-live-again  if you want to be on the tagged list,  just message me and it shall be done!



     Mark waved goodbye as he watched you drive away, which you returned briefly until your eyes went back to the road. He sighed happily as warm smile still lingered on his lips even after you left. Once he could no longer see your car, he closed the door and turned back to the two men who shared odd smirks. Mark’s dark brows furrowed at their most peculiarly smug expressions, “What’s with your faces?” a little hand motion followed and he stood across from them on the couch.

     “Just find it funny how oblivious you are,” Tyler teased as he leaned back into the cream colored couch, the back of his ever so slightly curly brunette hair touching the top of the couch.

     His lips pursed, obviously still confused as to what his friend was referring to, “I’m oblivious? What I am oblivious to?”

     Ethan let out a long groan that soon turned into a hearty laugh, “Come on, Mark! It’s (Y/n)!” His playful teases did nothing but add to Mark’s helpless confusion, what did you have to do with all this? Was there something he didn’t notice while you were around? You weren’t upset with him… were you?

     “(Y/n)..? What about her?”

     Tyler chuckled as he stood up, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder as his lips donned a crooked smile, “Really? The way she gets nervous around you-”

     “-Always laughing at your jokes, no matter how stupid they are-”

     “Or how the two of you share those extra long glances?” Both of them spouting out little details that they hoped would lead Mark to the sweet and precious truth- the truth that you were utterly and completely smitten with the dorky yet charming ravenette.

     After all, the boys knew very well that Mark returned those feelings and the fact that neither of you has found out that the other likes them- was beyond their belief. Albeit, it was quite entertaining at times to watch you two helplessly try to flirt.

     Yet, like the lovable oblivious sweetheart he was, Mark simply didn’t understand what they were getting at. “Yeah, but that’s just us,” He shrugged, and Ethan soon stood up as well and walked over to stand on the other side of Mark; Tyler and Ethan were both surprised by now at just how much Mark didn’t see the signs- even though they were the very same signs he sent to you.

     “Mark, you have a crush on her, don’t you?” Ethan asked plain and simple, wanting to help his friend through this unnecessary endeavor that felt like the two of you were jumping through hoops backward just because neither of you can figure out the obvious truth.

     The ravenette felt his cheeks heat up as a nervous chuckle passed his lips, but, he nodded all the same, “I do.”

     “And you really can’t see that she likes you too?” Ethan’s question froze Mark’s heart, his head shooting over to look at his shorter friend with the familiar bright blue hair, bewildered at what he had said.

     “Wait… She… She does?” His words came out stumbled- unable to help himself as his previously frozen heart began to beat at lightening speed at the idea of you returning his feelings. Could it really be true? You were beautiful, funny, and had this spunky soul to you that he absolutely adored!

     Tyler chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, he knew his friend was smart and quite clever but how on Earth could your crush on him go completely over his head? It was almost sweet how oblivious he was. “Yes, you idiot, that’s why she acts like she does around you.”

      With this new found information, a rush of excitement flooded his veins and his brain worked only by impulse as he rushed past his friends and towards his phone on the counter, “I have to call her!”

     The two lads behind him chuckled at his instant, dorky reaction- though once their laughter soon died down, Tyler tossed his arm around Ethan, “Our little boy is all grown up, Ethan,” his voice was gentle and motherly, playfully mocking his dear friend.

     Ethan shook his head as he placed a hand on his heart, fondly, “Him and darling ol’ (Y/n) will be off frolicking in a field before we know it.” He held back a chuckle and turned his attention to Mark, who was currently waiting for you to pick up and in an overly dramatic and supportive tone he cheers him on, “Go get her, Mark! Show her that you care and that you-”

      “Ethan, stop talking! Do not ruin-”

     “Hello..? You there, Mark?”

     His previous annoyed tone with his blue-haired buddy melted away and Mark laughed bashfully into the phone- slightly embarrassed that you answered in the middle of him scolding Ethan, “H-Hey, yeah I’m here chickadee…” Before his friends could further embarrass the ravenette, he took it off speaker and put the phone to his ear, taking a deep breath and walking a bit away and he started his effort to charm your wonderful self.

     “So, I was thinking…”


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