Well, that was kinda a let down. Not really sad, I guess disappointed.

Tried talking to my mom about something original I want to write and my 100 day challenge annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Basically, paint drying would be more interesting for her.

Not really bummed, but bummed because she used to be such an avid reader so maybe? But I guess not. Don’t even know if she would care if I showed her something that i I wrote. Would she even be moved by it?

I don’t think so. I think she would just say the generic nice things that moms are supposed to say.

I still love her but man.

A f f l i c t i o n (M)

Status: Idea
Word Count: 1019

Originally posted by sugaglos

*who doesn’t fantasize about Jimin as the Deadly Sin, Envy*

“Your friend,” Jimin starts, eyes lingering on the strut of her walk as she inched further away from the two of you, “she’s beautiful.” He tears his gaze away reluctantly, ready to measure your expression as subtly as he can.

Your eyes, initially focused on your fingers picking at the satin fabric covering the table, drift up to his, glancing over as your friend fades into the crowd of people before returning back to nod passively in agreement. “She sure is. And she’s taken.”

Jimin shifts, standing straighter. “Oh, are you guys together?”

You snort with your head casted downwards again. It only fuels Jimin more, taking in the way your shoulders are hunched over, chest curled in and hair falling to curtain your face. It’s so obvious you’re hiding behind a veil of insecurity, and the sight practically makes his knees weak. “No,” you answer. “She has a boyfriend.”

“And my guess is you’re single?” His voice is clear, confident, even a bit lower with a teasing hint.

Something about the way you raise your head to meet his, rolling your shoulders over and sitting completely straight, urges his taunting more. From what he can see, you’re used to this game: men coming up to get to your friend through you, wiping their shoes off on the mat that you are. You’re preparing yourself, eyes growing dark, the wall almost visibly coming up to shield you from the onslaught of pain ready to be hurled your way. “Correct,” you agree tersely.

Jimin shrugs, looking at the space that used to occupy your friend. “I mean, I can see why. She’s probably a great person.”

You hum dully, vision wandering over the lounge at the many patrons standing around the bar, sitting at tables as you are. Jimin notes how your eyes seem to settle on a certain individual, and he turns to pinpoint the object of your attention. Almost instantly, any desire he had to continue his game dissipates.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

The boy was Jimin’s absolute favourite person in the entire world; but he was also the one Jimin hated the most. Before he could stop his rage from bubbling up, it tumbled over his lips as he pointed to the demon leaning against the wall on the other side of the lounge.


You barely hear the question, unable to associate it with you as your eyes take in every inch of the black haired boy fashioned in a black v-neck and black, ripped jeans. It’s the presence of burning irritation etched into your profile that makes you think the orange haired man is talking to you. “Him, what?”

Jimin huffs out a laugh, trying to regain his cool composure, opting to rest his arm on the table again. “You were just staring pretty hard at that guy over there. I assume that’s your type?”

You hum again, making an incoherent sound at the back of your throat as your head lulls back to the direction of the beautiful young man. His skin is a lovely shade of lightly tanned, the lines of his bicep muscles prominent as he folds his arms over his chest. Your eyes travel up his neck and over his strong jaw, trailing over the pout of his his lips, the slope of his nose and finally meeting his eyes. They’re narrow yet round, each blink seemingly more mesmerizing than the last- that is, until they blink to meet your own.

Jimin knows he’s lost you, your head snapping back down and sliding back into your comfortable cloak of low self-esteem. He knows he won’t get anywhere, rolling his eyes, annoyance so evident in his grumbled words. “What’s so fucking special about him?”

His words have the opposite effect he imagined from you. Suspicion coating your expression as you eyed the tight look of the man across from you. “Who said he was special? He’s hot.” At the heavy breath the man exudes, you smirk. “Are you jealous of him?” At his shifting irises in response, you gasp in realization. “Do you know him?”

It’s Jimin’s turn to answer shortly. “I do, and I can assure you you’re not his type.”

Maybe you’ve gotten caught up in the back and forth, confident in the way he seem to loathe the handsome specimen, or maybe you really were intrigued to know who the raven haired man’s type was. “Who is, then?”

Jimin chews at his lip to hide his triumphant smile. Somehow he’s managed to reel you back in. “Your friend.”

The game continues.

You sigh in irritation, your mouth falling into a thin line as you narrow at the orange haired man. “You know what I just realized? Why are you still here? I told you my friend is taken. No point in trying anymore.”

Jimin coos, inching closer to you. “Oh, did I hit a soft spot? It must suck being the single friend all the time. What, did she come out with you so you wouldn’t feel alone? Having a friend usually does a great job of masking that desperation.”

Your face is stone, unreadable, and Jimin wanders over your features, trying to find a crack in the wall you’ve shot to shield you. “I’m a little confused,” you pipe, the casual and curious nature of your tone taking Jimin back. “What was your goal for coming over here: to get to my friend or to taunt me?” You push forward, trying your hand in intimidating the boy in front of you. “I’m not sure if you know what ‘human decency’ means, but I’d suggest you look it up before you end up drinking vodka with a shot of arsenic.”

Ah, what a lovely sound to Jimin’s ears - the rumble of a growl from such a sweet voice, the taste of bloodthirst dripping like nectar from your lips. “Sweetie,” he groans involuntarily, “is that a threat?”

Your eyes hold so much fire, Jimin can feel his blood race, heart pounding at the triumph of tearing through sheets of bullshit to get down to the anger.

 “It’s a word of caution.”

zadur-kiko asked:

Error, I think it is you who doesn't that Fresh has antisocial personality disorder. This means he can't feel at all. You should read the wikihow page on 'How to Understand and Help Sociopaths' it has a section for understanding a person with sociopathology and helping someone with sociopathic tendencies. It might help you understand him a bit more. I just want you to treat Fresh better since he is your brother. He's sick like Geno but in a different way since it is his brain that is sick.


Besides that, Error really is just too angry of a kid to put forth that kind of effort. 

Or understand it that well for that matter. He’s not nearly as sharp as his brother. 

For now, at least. Maybe we’ll see some development later. *shrug*

Underage Littles

You know what’s not illegal coloring, baby talking, sucking on pacifiers, nap time, calling your gf or bf daddy or mommy or what ever, wanting to be cuddled, holding and playing with toys as a teenager, Omg that’s not illegal. Neither is posting selfies, and cute sfw things.
But what is illegal is harassing some one online and making false claims.
But what isn’t illegal is blocking us. So get over it :) :D