carbonated soda

say you won’t let go | 01

 part 01 | part 02 [final] 

Summary: You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in.
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst; Roommate/Soulmate AU (In which you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate)
Word Count: 12,038
Author’s Note: I was going to wait and upload the whole thing in one giant oneshot but for the stake of everyone’s sanity, it’ll be split into two parts. props to @minsvga for always being down to beta! 

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The morning comes like clockwork, obviously, but sometimes you wish it didn’t. Sometimes, the morning is like an unexpected gust of wind, blowing away the present and the comfort and leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and the disappointing feeling akin to the sensation of something missing from your life. Which, considering everything the world and the fates and the bonds that connect individuals together and all the shit like that, is not too far off from a relevant problem in your life.

The days seem to blend together, time slipping between your fingers but leaving you with no opportunity or way to stop it or prolong it. You certainly feel different, older somehow and probably wiser, and you’re sure it shows in your eyes, in the curl of your lips, in the longing touch of your smile.

But you crawl out of bed in the morning, feet landing like a gentle sigh on the carpet, following the hall down to your bathroom until you’re situated in front of the sink and taking a long glance at your reflection. You don’t know why you insist to yourself to always look at the mirror, because it’s not like anything would have changed overnight, nothing ever really does. You take in your expression, the skin of your face and the darkness of your eyes, a harsh contrast to the youth of your face, the curve of your nose and the sharpness of your jawline—you: fresh, and young and not a day over eighteen-years-old, just as you have been for ten years.

This has been the way of human life since its creation, a science with no explanation and a connection that cannot be seen or heard or even felt. It’s a different kind of connection, moreso the type of link that brings two people together, two people whoever has a hand in predetermination believe would be the best fit for each other. A soulmate, an individual meant to compliment you in every aspect, someone gifted to you from unidentifiable figures; figures you would not even believe existed if not for the world they created and built, a world you now inhabited.

In theory, the unspoken rules of the whole soulmate business seemed easy: a case in which the aging process stops at the eighteen until one’s soulmate came along, done so in order for the pair of them to gain the ability to grow old together, experience life together, be there for each other during the true ups and downs of college and jobs and family. Every single person you’ve ever stumbled upon each has their own story, their own tales of their relationship. You’ve met people in a relationship that never grew, friends who realized they were each other’s everything, individuals who went through years upon years upon years of life with a soulmate fresh out of the gate—always a variety, never a wrong answer or a right one. Yet, they all seem happy, no matter where the path of life seems to take them.

But now that you’ve been eighteen for a solid ten years, you’re ready to call major bullshit on every single individual who dared to look you in the eye and tell you that they don’t care about the unwinding of fate.

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The Smart Way

A long time ago, I worked at a big-box store, pulling boxes off trucks, stacking them on pallets, and sending the pallets out to the sales floor to stock. It was hot, tiring, and not particularly fun, but they paid me, so that was good enough.

I had a coworker that those of us in the warehouse liked to call Crackhead. Crackhead wasn’t really a bad guy, but his choice of vice was really beginning to affect those around him. Unfortunately, he had an industrious, git-‘er-done attitude, which management absolutely loved; if a supervisor told him to run head-first into a brick wall, he’d do it with a smile. Which, I suppose, isn’t all that bad either, at least as far as management is concerned. Except… “charging head-first into a brick wall” was his go-to strategy. If the boxes on the beat-up conveyor belt got stuck, his solution was to shove as hard as he could, slamming the boxes into each other until something broke or fell off and everything started moving again. Of all the breakage we experienced that wasn’t broken in transit, 90% of it was from Crackhead. We lost gallons of paint because he wanted to know what the bottom of the paint box looked like. We lost a case of shampoo because he opened it to see what it smelled like, and dropped it on the cement floor. We even lost our lunch hour once because he somehow broke the time-clock so we couldn’t clock in or out for lunch, and told management that everyone had “totally had taken lunch already” and “oh man, those guys are so lazy, they want two lunch breaks.”

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TOP eras as i see them with synesthetia

self-titled era: shaking hands. old keyboards. friends that talk behind your back. the feeling you get after staying up too late. being sleepy all day but suddenly feeling awake at night. recovery. reaching the end of a tunnel. slowly lifting your head. realizing you can make a better life for yourself. drawing on your skin. burning old photos. abandoned theme parks. art shows. swimming pools.

RAB era: baseball fields. skinned knees. falling down after running really fast. collapsing at the end of a sports match. rained out events. resting in the shade on a hot day. shaved heads. summertime. the last few weeks of school. only leaving your house if you feel that that day is going to be important. sudden bursts of inspiration. finding creativity you never knew before. worrying about everything. the lump in your throat after you’re trying not to cry. things building up. unspoken words. dogs. hiking. cleats. 

Vessel: sudden fellowship with others. finally reaching out to your friends. the cold rush of air on your face when a door opens. raising your arms towards the sky. finally getting counseling. screaming, but not knowing why. night terrors. pine trees. a feeling of being lost. lonely in a room of people. soda. carbonated water. pink and yellow and red and gray. smiling over sadness. anxiety. butterflies in your stomach. the smile you get when you begin to realize everything will be alright. 

Blurryface: realizing that your friends have helped you, but now is the part of the battle you must fight on your own. blasting music in the car. summer days. hot pavement. empty rooms. moving houses. shouting just to hear an echo. late nights driving. nightmares. graffiti. sirens. doing bad things, but desperately wishing you could do good. doing good but can’t stop thinking about bad things. fighting against the darkness that no one else can see. cracks in the ceiling. basements. spaces where you don’t feel quite real. falling into bed after a long day. the final great battle before the end of the war.

Fizz King (Fizz King Beverages Inc. Argentina) is a Grapefruit flavoured soda that prides itself on being “Dangerously Carbonated”. The Soda was quickly recalled after causing extremely painful gas in many young customers. It is no longer sold in stores but can be purchased from [LINK RECALLED]. It has remained a popular item for so-called “Soda Thrill Seekers” and has received many different reviews from “Powerfully Delicious” to “Dangerously Bad”

Flavour: Grapefruit

Carbonation: Extreme

Sugar: 52mg

Size: 12oz (355ml)

Caffeine: None

Conclusion: Removed from shelves but still available for sale

February: The fall starts easy. I took baby aspirin, and a rusty spoon to my head, and smoked the stale weed my brother left in a broken vase before he left for college. Night comes fast, and tells the creation story. I ignore her this time. I don’t give a fuck about how I was made anymore tell me how I fall apart.

March: Nobody can ever find the raw spot on their leg until they start itching. I remember 6th grade when the mosquito bit my calf. Larvae and laps on the soccer field in early spring. He is oozing into my shoes with the mud.

April: My mother buried my rusty spoon, and took my brown hands. the clothesline was dripping carbonated orange soda sun, the wind was soft, the mice were sleeping warm beneath the floorboards; she spread my tarot on the floor with the forever broken and gnarled thumb she stuck in a blender when she was 5. That spring I walked home alone some nights, the heatwaves followed me like the labored breath of drunk men who don’t take no for an answer, I turned over The Devil and someone dropped a wine glass next door, she gasped, white eyes, the mice began to scrape and scream, the heatwave killed their children like it split my shoulders open and ate the youth inside.

May: The month of falling out of trees, junior high was gonna shipwreck any day now. There is a fast food place where the milkshakes taste like cough syrup and the skater kids cheat death on 3 feet of concrete stairs. There is a crack in the sidewalk in front of it, and he kick flips on it to break the back of the mother who left him at 13, he breeds violence between his fraying vans and then something in his ankle snaps, my oxygen goes tar black. He bleeds, he. Makes this sound. Like a dog when you step on its foot. I want to hold him, put a butterfly on his cheek, give him a band aid, something, God, something. He looks like he’s in pain. I want to. I don’t know. Help.

I walk away trembling and put my head between my knees behind a dumpster full of shitty milkshakes.

June: The neighbors fuck like rabbits while I’m trying to cry to joy division. I pray for a lightning strike. This type of poetry is for pretty girls, anyway.

July: my birthday flies into the glass of my bedroom window and breaks its neck. mom said the only things you can grow in summer that won’t die are grapefruit and hair, and I made a garden, I cut my chest open for Demeter each full moon. These locks were watered with gulf stream sea spray. I fed them bludgeoned daydreams. I threw my head against church doors trying to send Jesus some red flowers for his funeral, or maybe his birthday, doesn’t really matter, we celebrate both.

August: I got kicked out of high school knocking myself out on my desk. People carved hearts into the enamel, I carved my heart out of my chest and turned it in for my midterm. I slam dunked my skull into the bleachers on game day, and when the bleachers fell, into my history textbook, and when the book was mushy with blood, into the track field. I’m grinning ugly, dancing to the 80’s synth in an empty gym after homecoming, with a nosebleed dripping love songs down my yellow teeth, like words on old gravestones: here lies a moontoothed lover who will never rest in peace, every night she claws her grave and hears the call of western waves.

September: I’m high on concussion flavored car races in a stolen low rider, bluebirds fly in circles around my head after we crash, I wrote a song on a 5 dollar bill called blunt force trauma and it is about skater boys with broken noses, snarls of shaggy Jew fro his friends make fun of, and hands. that graze los angeles highways while he rides asphalt waves, slam his locker, and give the finger to the education system he keeps tripping over like untied shoelaces. he pricks those hands sewing together the lackluster parties private school kids throw. he puts his dewy rose bud lips to the jack daniels bottle, and kicks the drum kit over, gives it mouth to mouth, pump his fists into someone’s chest, gives it a pulse again. hands big enough to steal grapefruit with, the size of my swollen heart. I didn’t know it could get that big but he bumped into me, buzzing like a light saber, sky walking out of the grocery store with a grapefruit. with my heart.

October: do you have a girl do you? have a lover? Jupiter is orbiting around whatever this emotion is called, the rollercoaster one. when you look at me. We spend Halloween turning into werewolves at the library, you were moshing in the kids section, bleaching your hair in punk rock, I was banging my bruised and knuckleheaded love poems into a paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet, brushing my hair with broken glass. That was the first day the blood on our hands was not our own, she shushed us and we laughed. High on Shakespeare and Jupiter gas, we dug our fangs into the dewy decimal system. You ask me my name, I tell you, you smile. We had matching bruises and I floated home.

November: You make me. Feel. You make me feel like I can speak to snakes. You make me feel like my hips have a purpose besides balancing bins of laundry, and bowls of fruit. You make 17 stop feeling like a suicide note no one will read. you make me banshee scream and lick like fire against young pines, when you. dance. when you. kiss her, let her ride your double dutch hips, and your skateboard. She is a new coin, tangy on his numb tongue, and he tucks her in his pocket, his lucky penny. I’m the bubblegum he scrapes off his sneakers and throws into a storm drain.

December: I still cower into my pillow and smile a crooked smile, and go red at the cheeks, you. You put the red in my cheeks. I’m here, I’m exploding, why can’t you see me? Just put the bottle down, take your hand from your eyes, I won’t ask you what happened to your face, or how you got that scar, I will just like you and like you. we can buy angels wings in Hollywood, make an apartment out of crumpled homework pages at the bottoms of our dirty backpacks, we can drop out of high school, I will like you and dissect your sadness like frogs in freshman biology I am used to the rotting smell in your ribcage, I reek of it too. I will like you. until I know how to love you.

January: I switch schools, I cut my hair, bleach what little is left. It makes my mother unhappy, she thinks my spirit world is severing ties, she thinks my planets are discordant. I ask somebody back home about him, she says he dropped out and started working on cars.

I come down. Softly.

February (again, again, again): He was born to a rabbi and a beauty queen. I was born to a chemist, and a witch. Ammonia, bleach. Don’t mix them unless you want someone to die. Blood, adolescence, summer saltwater. Don’t mix them unless you want to make somebody wish they were dead.

—  2. a crush. and nothing more.
→ wips tag

So while I’m still on hiatus for personal reasons, I am also still writing. It’s all coming along slowly, but even though I’m taking this small break from tumblr I would still like to share some of the things I’ve been working on, so thank you to @xtaexhyungx for tagging me, and I hope you guys enjoy! ♡

title: Splinter

pairing: jungkook | reader 

genre: smut, angst, college au

preview: 

Perhaps buried deep within the thumping bass, spilled liquor, and dimmed lights of every college party, you might just be able to find yourself a love story… Of course, it might not be perfect, far from perfect actually. However, at that age, or more specifically at that time in someone’s life, mistakes seem to be abundant. The factors are endless, so plentiful in fact that they pile on top of one another until this supposed love story — splinters.  

The fragments lay in a million pieces, each one telling their own little story of how it all ended.

Laid strewn at the forefront of that pile of broken pieces was the shard branded hormones. Those vibrant sensations that make your vision go blurry and judgment turn haywire. Those pesky little things that when mixed with alcohol make you forget all about that guy or girl you’re really into… That guy or girl that you’ve been dating for three months — that guy or girl that deserved way better than a fresh out of high school kid that didn’t know how to handle their fireball mixed with an empty bedroom upstairs at a party.  

Next is that gleaming shard of freedom. It burns bright. The second you step foot onto that college campus miles upon miles away from people telling you what to do, how to act, or where to stay, your tolerance for limitations shifts. Being held down to any given place, any given idea, or any given person, it causes a flight response. The body wanting to maintain its newfound freedom, relieving itself of the hindrance to their fresh independence… Plus, having the ability to run from your problems without a choir to comment isn’t exactly helpful either. So combine all of that, and maybe it results in some runaway act of studying abroad for a semester to dampen the feelings of guilt and love with culture shock and ample amounts of bodies… Yeah, that definitely puts a pause on things.  

Another piece laying sound in the graveyard is that dingy, jagged shard reflecting the uncertainty of the future. It’s that constant pressure that bombards you saying if you haven’t made a dent in the path towards your goal by the time you’re twenty-five, then you’re falling behind. This reality (even if it is false) sets in maybe three years down the line. Tailgating loses its taste, the library becomes your home even more so than it had been before, and your time for connections and relationships downsizes to the point of not even trying… Not even trying when that guy or girl is really making an attempt to reconcile with you, and even though your heart wants it, your mind says there’s no time for that now, at least nothing serious — maybe after medical school, because somewhere along the line our lives turned into planning how much fun our lives will be once X, Y, and Z happens some odd years down the road.

It’s these, along with many other fragments, that lay in a messy array around the relationship. Some are tiny and seemingly insignificant pieces, however once the micro aggressions start to build, they inevitably become one larger section of the puzzle. Some of the remains are large and shiny, others dirty and defiled. It’s all a shattered mess of emotions and incidents, but if you can somehow manage to pick up the pieces and realign the edges, then just maybe you can still see the beauty in what it all once was.

more wips below the cut~

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The worst.

I had my worst customer encounter yet today over a silly irrelevant mistake.
I had a great shift overall, everyone was super friendly and it wasn’t very busy so I had time to casually chat with some customers and one of them even acknowledged how friendly I was and it made me really happy!
But of course the literal final customer of the day just had to try me. The conflict does hinge on my own mistake, but the customer could’ve handled it differently for sure.
In Germany we have this system where when you buy a bottle of something (mostly sodas, water, carbonated drinks) there’s this small fee added to the regular price and if you return the bottles to the store you can get that amount back. Most regular plastic bottles give you 25 cents. You return your bottles at a machine and it prints out a receipt that can be scanned at the register to either be subtracted from your total or just be given to you in cash. This guy came up and he had one of those bottle receipts and he put it apart from his stuff, seperated by a divider. First, I thought maybe the receipt belonged to the woman I cashed out before him and it had gone unnoticed so I asked him if it was his and he said it was. Now, here’s where my brainfart happened. I just kinda ignored the divider out of thinking the receipt had fluttered down from lying on top of something else on the other side of the divider or something and scanned it with the rest of the items in his first order (he had his stuff seperated in two)
Now, with normal customers the response to this would be “Oh it’s no big deal, don’t worry about it!” and it would be done with. But not with Mr. Asshat McGee here, no. As he went to pay the first chunk of his shoppings he started making snide remarks. “Great, just great” “Why do I even bother? I do things for a reason” “Great thinking. I like people who actually think about whwt they do.” Something about his tone made my anxiety flare up really really badly, I was getting kinda shaky and I felt the panic attack coming, so I was at a loss for words as I struggled to hold my composure. So I just said nothing as I cashed out the second order, hoping he was done and just going to leave. Buuuut of course it couldn’t be that easy. He kept going with his remarks the entire time. Then he started to complain that I didn’t apologize for my error (uh yea I’m actually not sure but I did think I did say sorry initially?) “And then you don’t even apologize, you made a mistake and if you make a mistake I expect you to apologize and I expect you to set all wheels in motion to fix it” Still I say nothing because I just don’t have words. I expect you to treat me with basic human respect but guess what! So then he asks me what my name is and when I don’t immediately reply he drops the dreaded “Let me speak to a manager.”
As if I wasn’t already panicking. So I call the manager over the speaker (keep in mind this is closing time, this man is one of the last customers if not the last, so the managers have other closing duties to attend to) and while we wait, the man doesn’t stop. “How come I’m still not getting an apology?” Umm… examine your tone while speaking to me and examine how much my whole body is shaking from anxiety and you’ll know how come. He just. Wouldn’t. Stop.
The manager arrives, I expain my mistake, the customer complains about me not apologizing and… then he leaves because there is nothing we can really do, the transaction is finished.
I kid you not, as soon as he’s out the door, I have a complete breakdown, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Fuck this guy, seriously. I know I need to get a thicker skin if I want to survive retail, but people like this guy are the reason I dread going to work every time.
Oh and do you wanna know how much money was on that stupid bottle receipt for that guy to raise such a stink about it?
Take a guess.
It was 3 fucking Euros. 3€. That’s all.
Even if he was shopping for someone else, it likely wouldn’t be a problem to show them the receipt and go “Hey the cashier messed something up here” and they’ll probably gladly give you your money back. Instead of this, ya gotta cause my second major panic attack since I’ve started and make me question if I can do this job only to realize I can’t afford to quit. Fuck you.

Faking It (Part One)

Summary: In which the most popular girl in school is dared to date the nerdiest boy in school, Peter Parker. She then creates a ‘’friendship’’ with him, knowing she would leave him right after the dare. Peter asks her to prom and she accepts to go with him. But when her friends seem to plan to pull a prank on Peter, will she be able to save him from a night of embarrassment?

Part One : The Dare

A/N: Welcome to my Peter Parker Mini-series. I’m going to try my best to keep each part under 1K words 😂 and if I don’t, don’t be mad lol. I don’t know how many parts this series will be, but I hope you lovelies enjoy it ♥

Warning(s): Fluff

Word Count: 1,030

Ask me if you want to be tagged in future posts

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I have a headcanon that the zones can get especially boring for fun ghoul, so he spends a lot of time with the girl making up card games out of an old deck that are definitely missing some cards. Ghoul and the girl always beg the other guys to play. The games often make little sense and are extremely intricate, and the guys sometimes play for carbons and soda, but usually they just gamble with buttons and beads. Jet almost always wins, and Party sometimes steals the buttons when he thinks no one is looking.

Acrylic Nails

A/N: I’m getting a lot of positive responses, so I am assuming that y’all have been enjoying my stupid stories. Here’s another; she’s a bit short, but I promise I’ll make more Loki stories in the future. 

Title: Acrylic Nails

Author: royalbluehues

Warnings: Slight tension. But worry not, only the good kind.

Pairings: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

When you first got your acrylic nails, you instantly fell in love. They made you feel superior, somehow making you feel as if you could kill a man with one glance. They made you want to put on the longest gown you owned, sport on a pair of Prada heels, and go sit on a chair that resembled a throne somewhere.

But the downside to getting them was that you weren’t able to do as many tasks as you did before. Right now, you were wrestling with opening a can of soda.

The continuous clink clink clink of your nail hitting against the aluminum frustrated you to no ends- and it seemed to annoy the god who laid on the couch as well (he just hasn’t said anything yet). You huffed, trying to somehow  dig three nails under the soda tab. But once your nails bent downward a bit when you push upward, you quickly drew your hand back, hissing slightly when a pain shot into your nails. You set the can down on the marble counter top, looking at it in betrayal. Then you looked at Loki.

He was wearing his “comfortable clothing”, which consisted of a dark green tunic and leather pants. He looked good, he always did. You bit your lip, debating whether or not you should annoy him. He looked peaceful, with his arm over his eyes, and a hand on his stomach.

“Loki,” you called. You tapped your nails on the counter top, liking the way they sounded. Real nails would never be able to make that sound.

“What?”

“Do you think you could help me with something?”

“No.” He quickly responded, and you groaned, already knowing he was going to say that. Your head dropped and then a brilliant idea popped into you mind: If he wasn’t complying with your request, you would simply have to annoy him into doing it for you.

With your index finger, you began scratched the closed aluminum opening, making a whining noise each time you “missed” the tab.

Clink

Clink

Clink

You mentally high-fived yourself when you looked up to see him glaring at you from the couch. “Will you quiet down?”

You blinked obliviously at him, “No. I need to open my soda. I’m quite parched,” You deadpanned. You went back to your task, not hearing him approaching from behind. A pale hand grabbed yours and pushed it away. You enjoyed the sight of him holding your hand, even if it wasn’t intended to be romantic and it was, like, for a half a second. You looked up at him in victory, the ghost of a smile barley tugging on the sides of your lips. His face was set into a scowl, and in one fluid moment, he completely crushed the can with the squeeze of his hand. Your tiny smirked melded into a look of horror as he placed it back on the counter top. The carbonated soda leaked everywhere: on your shoes and arms, his tunic and boots, on his face and on the side of the counters.

“There is your drink.” He stepped back, completely judging you. He took your hand in his and turned your palm over to look at your nails. The red color of your nails stood out against his skin tone, and he scoffed. “What is the use of getting these claws when you can not use them for menial tasks?”

You snatched your hand away, and looked at him in disbelief. “If I wouldn’t get arrested for scratching off your face, I would.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, and narrowed his eyes. “You forget your place, woman.”

You said nothing and did nothing. But your next move surprised even you. You hands moved up his torso, and locked with each other behind his neck. You cocked your head to the side, “And where would you say that is?” 

It was the power of the nails.

Loki was surprised by your sudden actions, but he smirked nonetheless. You felt two hands settle in the middle of your back and he pushed you flush against him. He backed you into the table and you let go of your lock behind his neck, leaving one hand on his shoulder and the other behind you.

“I have a few ideas.” He grinned. You arched an eyebrow, and tilted your face upward just a bit as he lowered his. There was a small gap between your faces, and you lifted your hand that was behind you to push him away. You made sure to evenly distribute the liquid on the bottom of his half of his face.

He let go of you, stepping back, wiping off the soda from mouth. He bared his teeth at you and you put your hands on your hips. “Okay, number one, don’t ever squeeze my drink like that again.” You glanced back at the empty remnants of your soda can and turned back to him. “Number two, they’re not claws, you uncultured swine. They’re acrylics.” You walked away, going to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Thor came walking in to see his brother staring at the empty space ahead. He surveyed the destruction on the table and looked up at his younger brother in question. “Loki, you’ve made quite a mess.”

“Shut it, Thor.” He snapped.

Monsta X & Periods

Request: “what would monsta x do as boyfriend when you’re having a period cramps, back pains, mood swings and stuff?” -anon

hey guys! i apologize for not being able to post yesterday since i don’t know why we didn’t have any internet connection. anyways, enjoy! if you want to read more, click here!


Originally posted by hyungnu

Shownu;

  • this big bear wouldn’t know what to do actually
  • at first he’d wonder why you’re became so pale all of a sudden
  • then he’d ask you 
  • to which you’d tell him that you have cramps and backpains
  • he would blink at you for a couple of seconds
  • and ask if what can he do to make the pain go away
  • but you wouldn’t reply
  • he’ll probably search for ways and when he finds the answer
  • he’d go get a hot compress and cuddle with you
  • rubbing your shoulder as you nuzzle onto his neck
  • since you’re on your period, he’d be extremely cautious around you
  • he’d constantly be by your side
  • asking you if you wanted to eat something
  • if you needed more pads or tampons
  • if you wanted to watch the tv or a movie
  • but then you would snap at him
  • he’d be hurt and would be silent for a couple of minutes 
  • but he’d try his best to understand you
  • when you suddenly become happy or clingy
  • he’d be surprised at first but then would get used to it
  • but then, to summarize everything
  • he’d be really caring towards you
  • he’d shower you so much love that you wouldn’t hate your period that much

Originally posted by no-ass-namjoon

Wonho;

  • wonho would seriously hate that time of the month
  • since he knows how your mood drastically changes every single minute
  • and how much pain it brings to you
  • he’ll be the type of boyfriend who’ll give you a period kit every single month
  • like a box filled with chocolates, a pack of pads/tampons, and other unhealthy stuff
  • but then he’ll by your side always
  • especially when you have cramps and back pains
  • he’ll always have a hot compress by his side and would with you until the pain goes away
  • he’ll even offer to cook you something 
  • well that something would be ramen
  • he’ll also buy you ice cream and other fruits 
  • and also the foods that you’re craving
  • but then in the midst of eating
  • you’ll sudden burst out crying
  • making him look at you weirdly but then would panic
  • he’d go to your side right away and would pull you into a tight hug
  • asking you what’s wrong
  • or he’ll just let you cry your heart out
  • and try to make you stop crying by making his meme face at you
  • which would make you laugh really hard
  • but then there would be times when you just wanted to be alone
  • and you’d snap at him for no reason
  • of course he’d be hurt and mad at the same time
  • don’t touch me, leave me alone.”
  • “okay.”
  • “babe, can you hold my hand?”
  • he’ll be really confused with your words and actions
  • but then he’d still do whatever you tell him
  • since he loves you a lot like a lot a lot

Originally posted by syubbie

Hyungwon;

  • idk if this boy would function that well around you
  • but then despite you asking him for a lot of things to buy
  • he’d actually whine but then would do what you ask him to do
  • by the minute you call him to tell him about you having your period
  • he’d immediately buy the things needed 
  • and would barge into your house with a lot of things prepared
  • he would act normal around you
  • and when u need something from him
  • you’ll find him asleep on the couch with the hot compress on his hand
  • since he’s waiting for you to tell him about your cramps
  • but then when he sees you really pale
  • he’d hurriedly go to your side and put the hot compress on your lower abdomen
  • before cuddling you into his arms
  • playing with the strands of your hair
  • but then he would fall asleep 
  • if ever you get mad or irritate at him for no reason
  • he’d also get mad since he doesn’t get it
  • like he’s done nothing wrong
  • and you’re barking at him
  • so the two of you would play the silent game for one hour
  • before you go to him and act cutely with you
  • why are you mad?”
  • “>___>”
  • “hey, chae hyungwon, what’s wrong?”
  • “you got mad at me for no reason. i’m so hurt right now, woman.”
  • but then everything would be okay after you give him a kiss

Originally posted by lostinmonstax

Minhyuk;

  • he’d be more prepared than you tho
  • like literally
  • whenever you go grocery shopping together
  • he’d already get a lot of snacks
  • and probably five packs of pads or tampos
  • babe, why are you getting a lot of pads?”
  • “it’s for your upcoming period.”
  • “what? but it’s still two week–”
  • “ssssshhh, you don’t have to speak. you need to be prepared beforehand.”
  • “who’s the one–”
  • “sshh, i know it’s hard. now, let’s go get some shampoo.”
  • and when that time comes, he’ll be by your side when you felt something
  • he would already know so he won’t ask you anything about it
  • when you get out of the bathroom, you would pout at him 
  • and he’ll open both of his arms to hug you
  • it’s that time already?”
  • “yeah…”
  • and whenever the two of you would go out
  • and your cramps would occur, you would curse and curl up on your seat
  • to which he would come prepared
  • he would have this painkillers for cramps and make you drink it
  • and he’ll also have a hot compress on his bag 
  • but then when you get mad at him for no reason
  • he wouldn’t mind and would smile at you despite your hurtful remarks
  • ugh, just shut the fck up minhyuk.”
  • “aww babe, you’re so sweet. do you want some ice cream?”

Originally posted by kookihyunnie

Kihyun;

  • this mama would know what to do
  • cramps? it’s either he’ll make you lie down and he’d place a hot compress on it
  • or make you take a warm bath with him assisting you *wink wink*
  • or maybe just make you drink pain killers
  • you’re craving something?
  • don’t worry, he’s prepared
  • kihyun would probably cook for you or just buy something if he feels lazy
  • but then you would always ask him to cook for you
  • to which he can’t say no to
  • from time to time, he’d shower you with kisses
  • and even compliments
  • despite how savage or mean you are to him
  • but then when you get emotional because of a movie or a mere photo
  • he would wrap you in a blanket and hug you tightly
  • hey, what wrong?”
  • “*hick*….. the dog died and and…”
  • “aww, sssssshhh, don’t cry baby. it’s just a movie.”
  • “but still *wails*…..”
  • “okay, okay, enough. do you want oppa to get you some ice cream?”
  • “yes please.”
  • he’d be pretty understanding but then there would be times
  • when he couldn’t help but snap at you
  • and would regret it right after he sees you teary-eyed
  • which would end up with him asking for forgiveness
  • and yeah, he’ll probably become your slave just because of what he just said

Originally posted by kihqun

Jooheon;

  • it’ll be hard to convince this to stay 
  • he wouldn’t want to doesn’t want to experience your wrath 
  • but then he would eventually stay by your side 
  • since you’ll guilt trip him 
  • and when he’s by your side
  • he’d be on the edge
  • jooheon.”
  • “yes ma’am?”
  • “why are you calling me ma’am?”
  • “i don’t know ma’am.”
  • “babe, calm down. what’s wrong with you?”
  • “nothing ma’am.”
  • “say ma’am one more time and you won’t get any kisses from me.”
  • “oh, what did i say babe?”
  • when ever you get your period cramps or even back pain
  • he’d start to panic
  • asking you what to do
  • and you’d tell him and he’d act on it real fast
  • babe what should i do?!” he’s screaming btw
  • “*in pain* uh…. get the hot compress…”
  • “w-where?!” 
  • “in my room.”
  • but then when your mood changes real fast
  • he’d look at you weirdly
  • as if you ate something to make you high
  • are you okay?”
  • “what do you mean by are you okay?”
  • “are you making fun of me?”
  • “how could you?”
  • “b-babe I’m just asking if you’re okay or what not! *cries*

Originally posted by iamonstax

I.M;

  • well, changkyun would be prepared than ever
  • searching for things to do during your period
  • read a book about periods and what not
  • what to do and what not to do
  • what to give you and what not to give you
  • babe, can you get me some cola?”
  • “no, according to the book that i’ve read, carbonated drinks like sodas can affect your cramping and–”
  • “okay, can you just get me some water?”
  • “alright.”
  • he’d be really strict when it comes to foods that could worsen your cramps and what not
  • but then he’d be really sweet
  • like when you’d just ask him to buy some fruits
  • he’d come home with flowers with him
  • but there would be a lot of leaves than flowers.
  • a flower for my princess.”
  • “babe, what’s this?”
  • “flowers *blinks innocently*”
  • “babe, these are leaves.”
  • “and flowers.”
  • “okay… thanks.”
  • whenever your mood changes really quick
  • he’d also go along with it
  • like it’d be you who’s going to look at him weirdly
  • but then with him around
  • you’d be laughing really hard and would also cry a lot since he’d make you watch emotional movies
  • so that the two of you can cry together.
School Days

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Word count: 8k

Originally posted by apgujeon


Drifting lazily above your head, you laid back on the grass and watched the puffy white clouds go by, finding the different shapes within them. One was obviously supposed to be a dragon, releasing a wisping breath of steam as if it were tired of holding it in all this time. It’s eyes were the pale blue of the sky with the smallest fleck of white that seemed to be staring at you. You never tore your eyes from it. What am I supposed to do now? You silently asked the dragon. His eyes seemed to search yours as you waited for the answer to come to you.

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Punch Drunk Recreation

Originally posted by cypher127

Pairing: Ten/Reader

Genre: Fluff/touch of angst

Word Count: 4K

Summary:Ten doesn’t know why he’s sits on his roof at 11 PM, every night. He doesn’t know why you’re always in your backyard, fists beating your leather clad punching bag. He supposes they’re for the same reason.

Author’s note:  I’m writing this because I’m getting my wisdom teeth pulled out tomorrow and I didn’t want to be writing it while I’m high off of oxy. Ten is also precious!!!! That’s all, enjoy your days my lovely humans (: 

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anonymous asked:

the pop tasting challenge made me want to get the intervention banner from how i met your mother because good lord he knows too much about pop -🍑

What makes me sad is as someone who used to work in children’s birthday parties (and therefore has drunk all kinds of soda) I know for a fact I could do that challenge and get the same, if not a better score.

Sparkling Potatoes- Easy Recipe Spell

Cooking is one of my all-time favorite things. It’s fun, creative, and you’re rewarded with delicious food! It’s also a great way for a discreet witch to practice their craft. This recipe is a family favorite, and can easily be customized to your intent. 

You will need: 

Vessel to cook potatoes inOven to put vessel in Potatoes of your choiceButter (vegans can use a vegan butter or other oil of choice)Spices to match your intent1 can of Sprite/7-Up/ any lemon-lime soda (trust me) 

Step 1: 

Set your oven to 350 F/ 176 C. Use butter or oil to grease the bottom of your cooking vessel. I usually use a cast iron skillet, but whatever works best for your oven. 

Step 2: 

Dice your potatoes and spread them evenly in the pan. I like using potatoes for spells because they’re something of a blank slate. You can manipulate the flavoring and texture to your intent. 

Step 3: 

Add a few pats of butter/vegan butter to the potatoes. Butter is a good source of fats, which stores energy and keeps us warm. I like using this when doing family spells as reinforcement of warmth and safety through hardship. 

Step 4: 

This is the fun part- adding spices! This is where you can customize based on intent. I use salt and pepper for balance and duality, garlic for protection, basil, to improve peace and harmony, and paprika to bolster creative/professional energy. 

Step 5: 

Open your can of lemon-lime soda. This may sound weird, but the carbonation in the soda breaks down the starches in the potatoes, making them super soft, and they don’t infuse the flavor of the soda into the potatoes. Pour the soda into the pan, until the potatoes are about half covered. The bubbles are the final magical oomph for the spell. If you have any final incantations/intents, use it now. 

Step 6: 

Bake the potatoes in the oven for 45 minutes to an hour, or until the cubes are fork tender. Enjoy your delicious food and your spell. 

Many blessings! - Kate