i am being written


Ok the reason this is one of the best scenes I have ever seen in a movie is because they immediately establish Colette’s tough personality as traits of a boss NOT a bitch. Unlike far too many films (children’s and adults), this lead female doesn’t try to make herself stand out by saying something that undermines other women like “I’m not like most women who spend half the day worrying what they look like” or “I don’t sit around playing with makeup and dolls”. I am so sick of seeing female characters that are written as being proud of being strong, brave, or courageous despite them being a woman. AS IF BEING A WOMAN IS A HANDICAP AND THEY BEAT THE ODDS. Colette straight out calls the patriarchy and establishes the system between her and her subordinate. At the end she isn’t portrayed as bitchy, but as a leader, and Linguine is impressed, not put off. If a man is tough and takes no bullshit, he is admired and considered a strong leader and boss. If a woman does the same she is considered out of line, bossy, and bitchy.

Here, Colette is an immediate leader, and does not try and undermine herself or other women in order to prove that she is charge.

Colette is seen as the boss, not seen as bossy.

and indeed there will be time

steve trevor/diana prince | wonder woman | fix it fic

title insp [x]

“Steve Trevor. Alive.” Chief kicked at a stone, sending it flying into the darkness. “Hope yet remains.”  

She walked beside him, hands in her coat pockets. The ache in her chest had lessened somewhat, after having told her old friend everything, but the bitterness lingered.

Steve was alive but had returned to her a blank slate, the memories of their time together lost in whatever events that led to him returning to this world.

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1. I am a crybaby and I don’t fucking care

2. When someone sees me cry why is their immediate reflex to offer me tissues? I don’t want to wipe away my tears. I won’t to let them flow. They evaporate on their own. And once I am done I can look myself in the mirror and know - it all disappears if you let it go.

3. When I say ’go away’, I mean it. Sometimes the best comfort you can offer to someone crying is to leave them alone. They are upset/angry/hurt. Lets not add embarrassment to that list too.

4. Sometimes I don’t know why I am crying. And sometimes I don’t want to talk about it either. If I am letting it go, so should you.

5. If I am crying in a public place, don’t be embarrassed for me. Don’t say what I already know - people are staring and we are right in middle of the classroom. I know and I clearly don’t care.

6. There are so many triggers. A quote, a single word, a memory that should have been forgotten by now. When tears appear, when the trigger hits, it doesn’t show that I am weak, it shows that I am strong enough to live.

7. Don’t tell me to ‘stop crying’. That’s like the worst thing you can do. After saying ‘calm down’. It took me a long time to realize there is nothing wrong with tears. Don’t ask me to suppress my emotions. I won’t, no matter how many times you repeat the same frustrating thing.

8. You can leave. You really are not obligated to stay there and comfort me.

9.But if you choose to stay, you must chuck your idea of comfort out the window if it doesn’t match mine. Because in the end it is all about trying to make me feel better in that moment, right?

10. Do NOT start with advice. Not unless asked.

11. Most times a joke works. It can be the silliest one. Not because I want laughter to cancel out the tears but because it is good to be reminded of yin yang.

12. Don’t start telling me about your problems or why your life sucks. Not when my cheeks are still wet and there is more to come. Listening about how bad your life is will NOT make me feel any better. Just worse.

13. I can call myself a crybaby but you cannot. Because when I say it, I know exactly what I mean by it. When you say it, I am not too sure but have a fair idea of how much you pity me and how sometimes you see me as pathetic.

14. Don’t hug me. Don’t touch me. The hugs while crying look comforting only in the movies. When I am crying I feel like everything is closing up on me. It gets harder to breathe or even see. I just want space.

15. If I ask you to stay and you do, I want your company not your words. I have heard her breathe for an hour straight when she cried on call and all I did was let her. That day in 8th grade I realized there are times when words are not needed at all.

16. I will throw up. I will feel hungry soon. I will say things I don’t mean. Don’t make it a big deal. Crying comes easy to me but most times smiling does too.

—  Things I want you to know as a Crybaby 

So there are a number of “classic” Drarry stories that I have put off reading because they are supposed to be soooo good, and I’ll only be able to fall in love with them for the first time once. Like, I know that Saras_girl’s Turn is out there waiting for me, but once I read it, that’s it! No more anticipation. I also have a bunch of “last-to-me-fics” by authors who have left the fandom, and I don’t want to read them because I’ll probably never get to read another Drarry story by said authors again. I feel like I’m suffering from some kind of fanfiction-induced paralysis.

One of the thing that deeply irritates me the most about star wars is how all these huge planets with ridiculously large populations all have a single monolithic culture with very little by the way or variation or even the kind of divisions you see inside a country on earth. And I guess that to some extent this is the product of being part of a galaxy where space and time are easily collapsible, so nationalism naturally expands it’s borders to include an entire planet in its purview.

But at the same time it doesn’t explain the lack of cultural variance in things like art or clothing or ritual or even relations to the Force and religion. I think it comes from this retrograde anthropological idea that every culture is easily classifiable and describable when cultures are these weird organic and complex entities which partially emerge in response to things and partially emerge because humans like to make meaning out of nothingness and partially because humans just like to do weird shit. I think the same would hold true for all sentients in the GFFA.

The thing about this retrograde view of culture is that it emerges from a particular political and social milieu (colonial and imperial) but it’s reproduced here in space without questioning at all. And then it just keeps getting even more irritating because you then have space fascists like thrawn who on some level are meant to have an appreciation of art, but on another level have this deeply functionalist understanding of art as an expression of an inherent cultural tendency or serving a particular psychological purpose/representation in a society. This is again this colonial understanding of material culture which posits that an object cannot exist in and of itself for itself or for anything like pleasure or individual expression, but that it directly expresses a cultural and universal expression that represents some inherent truth about a whole people (a psychological function, a function describing social relations and sociality). In thrawn’s case this is then put to use to conquer them. And this could be commentary on the colonial mindset of functionalist anthropology and understandings of culture, except that all of thrawn’s assumptions are proved correct over and over again - and his assumptions about monolithic cultures are reified over and over again in other books in the EU and in the movies and in canon shows like rebels.

So rather than having culture as this weird and manyheaded entity that no one ever perfectly maps to or understands - it is possible, for example, to feel like a stranger in your own “culture” because you have been subjected to so many global influences, and I’m guessing this same pattern would easily replicate itself here - you have a single culture which is also, incidentally, traditional and historical culture. This weird and exotic thing that you can write about in your colonial era anthropology books because it is strange and intricate and deeply rooted in the past - a distant and unnameable past - and rarely ever in the present. Culture, in other words, as primitive, as the Other to modernity which is apparently cultureless. And this too is a political idea which manifested in a cold war era milieu where modernity was a state of being that all other “developing” cultures were meant to aspire to - not just in ritual or dedication to science or dress or sexual freedom but also in modes of consumption but also wrt these more intangible ideas such as the american dream and it’s constituent personality traits like individualism. Star wars just kind of keeps reproducing it and sometimes there’s slippage that allows for you as a fanfic writer to write back against this (which… fandom… doesn’t… which is a rant for another day) but mostly it’s just an uncomfortable tension where you have these deeply colonialist assumptions and understandings of culture constantly being reproduced uncritically and as though this is natural and objective, quantifiable truth.

pushing buttons

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou

The air in the bedroom was hot and they were both sweaty and sticky laying together in Bokuto’s bed. It felt disgusting, but Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to separate from Bokuto just yet. It certainly wasn’t their first time fooling around, but it was the first time they had ended up completely naked together, which was exhilarating. So they lay there together, Akaashi tracing his fingers down Bokuto’s stomach, appreciating his well toned abs until something caught his attention and his hand froze. In that moment he found his gaze fixed on what might have been the greatest discovery of his young life:

Bokuto Koutarou had an outie bellybutton. 

And it was the most adorable thing that Akaashi had ever seen. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d never noticed it before, he noticed everything about Bokuto, but he supposed the reason could have been that he generally wasn’t spending his time staring at his boyfriend’s abs–he was really more of an arms man, and Bokuto had great arms.

But more importantly, he also had an incredibly charming bellybutton; the way it poked out just slightly, all round and soft looking, contrasting with his defined stomach muscles, was so cute Akaashi could hardly stand it.

Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were trailing the rest of the way down Bokuto’s stomach until they were tracing lightly over his protruding navel. Akaashi liked the way that it felt under his fingers, and wondered if it was a squishy as it seemed to be. Gently, he pressed his finger into the flesh, which gave in to the pressure in the most satisfying way. 

It was almost addicting.

Akaashi continued to poke and prod at the little button, completely entranced, until Bokuto cleared his throat. 

Akaashi startled and froze. 

“Um, ‘Kaashi?” 

There were a couple beats of tension filled silence until Akaashi swallowed.

“Yes?” he replied, not daring to look up at Bokuto’s face.

“Whatcha doin?” Bokuto asked cautiously.

There was absolutely no way in hell that Akaashi was going to tell Bokuto that he’d suddenly become enamored with his bellybutton, so thinking quickly, he fixed a contemplative expression on his face and said, “Hm, looks like it didn’t work.”

Bokuto sat up on his elbows frantically. “Wh-what didn’t work? What are you talking about?”

Akaashi looked up at him, face totally straight and voice even when he said, “I was hoping I’d found a mute button.”

He watched as Bokuto opened his mouth and then closed it, face scrunching up before he exclaimed, “agAAAASHiiiii! Why would you say that?!?!”

As he continued to flail and whine, Akaashi smirked to himself. He’d kept his secret safe. 

Bokuto’s bellybutton became something of an obsession for Akaashi. He tried to catch a glimpse of it every chance he could get: when Bokuto changed in the locker room before and after practice, when he stretched enough for his shirt to ride up, even when he so much as sweat enough for his shirt to cling to his body, outlining the shape of it. 

Akaashi knew full well that he had a problem, but there was nothing he could do about it. Bokuto’s outie was just so infuriatingly adorable that Akaashi couldn’t help but become fixated on it. 

Soon it wasn’t enough to just catch glimpses of it: he wanted to touch it.

 He needed to touch it.

It became a habit of his to oh so casually slide his hand over Bokuto’s torso, making like he was feeling up his boyfriend’s abs, until his fingers would reach the cute little bump, and then he’d start to press on it, in and out, methodically. There was just something so inexplicably pleasant about the way it squished just the slighted bit under his fingers. 

As an added bonus, it also drove Bokuto up the wall. Whenever Akaashi was feeling particularly annoying he would only have to poke at Bokuto’s outie to get him riled up. He’d hoot and yank Akaashi’s hand away, or squirm out of his grip, grumbling and cursing Akaashi out. 

Well, he had to get his kicks somewhere.

But unfortunately for him, Bokuto eventually started to get jumpy: just a graze of Akaashi’s  fingers on his stomach would set him off. 

“Stop trying to mute me!” He yelped, batting away Akaashi’s hand and hopping out of his reach. “I wasn’t even talking this time!”

Akaashi chewed on the inside of his cheek and waited for Bokuto to let his guard down before taking a careful step toward him. He sidled up to his boyfriend in what he thought was quite a casual way, but Bokuto startled the second Akaashi got too close. 

“Gah!” He jumped away. “I mean it, Keiji! Knock it off!”

Instead of only pouting like he usually would, Bokuto’s face was screwed up in a grimace, and he was fidgeting with his shirt. “I-I’m really self-conscious about my bellybutton, and every time you mess around with it,” He fidgeted some more. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.” 

Akaashi furrowed his brow and took a step toward Bokuto, which made him cover his bellybutton with his hands. Akaashi rolled his eyes and took Bokuto’s hands in his. Having Bokuto feeling self-conscious wouldn’t do, and Akaashi knew that there was only one thing he could do to stop it. 

So, he resigned himself of his fate, already feeling his cheeks getting warm, and mumbled, “I think it’s cute.”

Bokuto’s head snapped up. “You what?”

Sighing, Akaashi looked off to the side. 

“I said, I think your bellybutton is cute,” His face and neck were now completely red. “A-and I like how it feels when I- squish it.”

He probably could have kept that last part to himself–in fact he probably should have, but now that his infatuation with his boyfriend’s navel was totally out in the open, he felt a little bit freer. 

With the worst part over, he finally looked up at Bokuto-

And then immediately regretted everything.

Bokuto was biting his lip, looking absolutely delighted and about to explode. Akaashi dropped his hands and gave him a warning look, but it was too late. Within seconds Bokuto was howling with laughter. The heat in Akaashi’s cheeks increased, and he knew that if he were to look down his shirt, his chest would be bright red as well. His asshole of a boyfriend continued to laugh, doubled over now from the force of it.

“Aka-” He cut himself off with another peal of laughter. “AGHAAAAASHII! You’re so weird!”

Akaashi huffed indignantly and crossed his arms.

“Sh-shut up, Bokuto-san,” he grumbled, “You’re the one with the weird bellybutton.”

“Nuh-uh!” Bokuto shouted before wrapping his arms around Akaashi, crushing him. “You think it’s cute! Can’t take it back!”

Akaashi stood stiff, embarrassed, and refused to return the hug.

“You know,” Bokuto mused after his laughter had died down some, nuzzling into Akaashi’s neck, “If you really like it so much, then I guess you can play with it whenever you want!”

Akaashi considered that statement for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Gradually, he snuck his arm in between their bodies, running his hand up Bokuto’s shirt until his fingers came into contact with his bellybutton. He gently prodded his finger into the flesh and a warm, pleasant feeling washed over him. Bokuto started giggling again and Akaashi grumbled, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s neck. It was all very embarrassing, but if he got to do this whenever he wanted, and it made Bokuto happy, then the embarrassment was well worth it. 

At least while it was only the two of them that knew about it.


From: Pain-In-The-Ass

i hear you got a bellybutton fetish 

kinky, akaashi-kuuuun!

To: Pain-In-The-Ass

Should I bring up Kozume-san’s “cute little toes” now or later?

From: Pain-In-The-Ass

fair point.

To: Bokuto-san<3

I won’t be tossing to you tomorrow.

And I’m taking the heart out of your contact name.

From: Bokuto-san




Something New

Requested by @forcenturiestogether 

Question: are there really more Jonerys fics being written or am I just spamming everyone lol. But I do have quite a few prompts to do and I have a free day so I’ve been trying to catch up. 

Enjoy :) 

It was their third night in the Red Keep and Jon was still having trouble sleeping.

It wasn’t necessarily that he was afraid that anything would happen to him or Dany. He trusted his Guard with his life and he knew they would do anything to keep him safe. But there was something about the castle that left him uneasy-how many rulers had lived and died here? How was he to know that the Mad Queen hadn’t slept in this very same bed, draped in the red and gold blankets of the Lannisters because the ashes hadn’t yet settled from the battle? The very thought of it made his skin crawl.

“Are you asleep?” Dany turned over so she was lying on her side next to him, moonlight pooling on her silver hair. Her nightdress was falling off one shoulder and he could see her milk white skin shining through the twilight.

He feigned sleep for a moment longer before he shook his head. It was the most comfortable bed he’d slept in for a long time, but in a way he still felt like he was sleeping on nails. “No.”

She sighed. “Me neither. I can’t stop thinking.”

“About what? I can try and ease your mind?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you can, although you’re welcome to try.” She was quiet for a moment, contemplative. “You know, sometimes when I lie here I think I can almost feel her, still.”

Jon nodded. “I understand. I feel the same way.”

“It’s silly-Cersei wasn’t nearly as dangerous as the White Walkers, but…to sleep in this bed, in this castle…it’s not home yet.”

“It will be.” He ran his fingers through her hair, fine as cornsilk. “It’s your home more than it was ever hers.” 

“It doesn’t feel like home. I thought it would be since Targaryens lived here for time out of mind, but…I’m a stranger in it.” 

“Give it time. The war hasn’t even been over for a moon yet.”

“It’s your home too.”

He tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How can it be? Winterfell isn’t my home. Not anymore. Neither is the Red Keep. I’m torn between two different legacies.”

“You don’t have to be. Not anymore. Who says Starks and Targaryens really have to be so different? Who says you have to pick and choose?” She moved closer to him, bed shifting beneath them, until he could feel the heat of her next to him. He had to resist the urge to kiss her head, pull her closer. “The world has turned upside down. It’s our job to set it straight.” 

“We’ll make this place home.” It would be messy and complicated, but life was always that way. “We’ve gone through our trials.”

“Still.” She sat up abruptly, grabbing her white dressing gown from the foot of the bed. “I can’t sleep here tonight.” 

“Where’re you going?”

She grabbed two quilts from the wardrobe, pulled on a pair of slippers, and breezed out the door. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

He followed her out to a low stone terrace overlooking the palace gardens. The night was clear and cool, with a breeze blowing out from over the sea. Most of the lights in King’s Landing were turned low, although he could hear a few drunk men shouting bawdy songs in the streets. The dragons soared overhead, passing the Sept of Baelor and the Dragonpit…both ruins now. 

But for the moment at least, there was peace. 

He lay down next to her, using the first blanket as a sheet and the other as a quilt. The ground was hard underneath him, but he was surprised to find that he didn’t mind; the sound of the waves lulled him, reminding him of days spent on Dragonstone where there was nowhere on the island they could go to escape the sound of the sea. 

They were quiet for a moment, immersed in their own thoughts. But it wasn’t a silence he felt the need to fill; he was growing to appreciate their silences just as much as he did their conversations, because he knew that she wasn’t always looking for an answer. Sometimes they just needed to think, and feel. 

“I love you,” he told the stars, “no matter where we are.”

Her hand went to cup his own, sending little waves of heat glancing through his palms. “You’re my home, Jon Snow. Now and always.”

He fell asleep with the waves in his ears and the stars in his eyes. 

As you can see, some prompts are shorter than others because I simply do not have time to write thousands of words each and keep on top of my series and write a multi chapter and somehow get ready for school. I hope you understand. 

Prompts are open here 

Happy Game of Thrones Sunday! 

my thoughts on season 3 of voltron?… that shit gay

Tell Me Something That I’ll Forget.

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 11.5K+

Content: Bi!Lashton, polyamory (MFM dynamic), language, graphic content, sexual situations (anal sex, multiple partners, light spanking, orgasm denial, etc.)

A/N: I have returned and it feels so good to be back. This is something that I’ve been working on for quite some time, and it is notably different from what I’ve posted before. I had an idea of Chef Ashton and I’ve always wanted to explore polyamory within the bounds of fanfiction. This is what I came up with after about two months of messing around with it. Have an open mind if this is all new to you. Enjoy. :-)

Feedback is greatly appreciated

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the trail of paper stars

Originally posted by yourbiaslikesitrough

➢ pairing: jungkook x reader
➢ genre: angst
➢ word count: 5,043
➢ summary: you are trapped on the boundary between life and death. he folds one thousand paper cranes to reach you.

The first of the cranes are suspended from a red string, extending down from the ceiling where they fall into the deep depths of your consciousness. Small lights flutter from each origami bird, a tiny heart that beats to the rhythm of the boy’s wishes as he watches over your still form.

The smooth parchment swims under his fingertips, the creases and folds pinned with a precision that creates bursts of jewels into the air. But there is nothing for them to illuminate, nothing except for the infinite expanse of darkness.

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When you and Rocky are caught making out

Thank you for requesting! I am so sorry for taking so freaking long with this, I hope this is worth the wait! >< And despite the awful writer’s block, I somehow managed to write a full scenario out of this, so I really hope this is okay~

A DISCLAIMER: this is, in no way, supposed to be smut or anything close to smut and I am strongly against smut being written of underage idols.

this is a very, i repeat, VERY used plot/storyline but i hope my writing was enough to make it a little different and if not, i’m sorry but that’s all i could do with my blocked creativity at the moment ><

Words: 1990

Fluff i’ve missed you my old friend

Requested by anon ♥

Originally posted by dream-astro

You sat on Minhyuk’s bed while looking at him. He walked around in the room, trying to tidy it up.

“When was the last time you cleaned in here?” you asked, smiling out of amusement.

He glanced at you while bending down to pick up a used sock. “Um… I’m not sure. Maybe a month ago?” he answered like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” you let out a chuckle. “The room does look like it hasn’t been cleaned in a while.”

There were pieces of clothing lying around everywhere and there was a reasonable amount of dust too.

“Yeah, well,” he threw the sock in the laundry basket that was already full and looked like it would overflow any second. “We’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you smiled.

Being a member of an idol group, he didn’t have much time for you or anything else, to be honest. He wasn’t always busy but when he wasn’t, he was usually exhausted thanks to other schedules and never-ending practice. That’s why you usually refused to go on a date unless it was during a time when he didn’t have schedules and only had to practice. Even though you didn’t go on dates often, you hung out a lot at their dorm or at your place. You two didn’t really mind staying inside as it also made it easier to hide your relationship.

“Hyung, we’re going to go eat dinner,” Sanha appeared in the room’s doorway and you two turned to look at him. “Do you want us to bring you guys something?”

Jinwoo appeared behind the tall youngest member and peeked from behind him. “Are you done cleaning?”

“We’ll order something,” Minhyuk answered Sanha’s question first and picked up the laundry basket before walking over to the doorway. “And no, I’m not done cleaning. It’s going to take a while considering that four people live in here and that the room hasn’t been cleaned in, like, a month. Oh, yeah, and may I remind you that I’m cleaning by myself here.”

The saltiness in your boyfriend’s voice was only amusing to everyone else, including you.

Jinwoo let out a small laugh and patted the younger one’s shoulder. “It’s your fault for losing in rock-paper-scissors.”
“I had no control over that!” Minhyuk whined and you chuckled which caused him to turn around with a pout. “Whose side are you on?”

You shrugged with an innocent smile. “I mean, you played with them. You agreed to the rule that the one who loses has to clean.”

He gave you a sad look and turned back around.

“Just leave the laundry in the bathroom, we’ll wash them once we come back,” Myungjun said with a smile while passing by the room.

“True friends only,” Minhyuk said jokingly and gave Jinwoo and Sanha a look while passing by them to take the laundry to the bathroom. Myungjun’s statement had obviously made him feel better.

“Hey, ______,” Jinwoo called your name once Minhyuk had left the room and you looked at him.

“Hm?” you hummed, smiling slightly.

“Don’t break this place apart while we are gone,” he said, half serious, half joking. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the last time.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “No, definitely not. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you gave him a reassuring smile and he smirked before leaving the doorway with Sanha.

The last time you and Minhyuk had been left alone at the dorm, you two had torn apart at least four pillows, causing a terrible mess in the whole dorm. What had started as a harmless, playful pillow fight had very quickly escalated in to a playful but more rough pillow war. It had been tons of fun but the scolding that came after hadn’t been very nice.

After a bit Minhyuk entered the room with a pleased smile. “Now I can take a break,” he beamed and walked over to the bed where you still sat.

“What are you talking about?” you asked and didn’t let him sit down.

He looked surprised by your reaction.

“There’s still a lot cleaning left to do,” you said to him.

“But I want to cuddle,” he whined with an almost irresistible sad puppy look. “Now.”

You shook your head, proud of yourself for not falling for his cuteness. “The faster you clean this room the faster you’ll get to cuddle with me. Plus, it’ll be a lot nicer to cuddle when you know that you can just relax for the rest of the evening.”

He didn’t let the pout fade away but obeyed you and continued cleaning. His expression was sour but you didn’t let it bother you.

Minhyuk sat down beside you and let out a sigh. “Finally.”

“Well done,” you patted his head and ruffled his hair, making him lean away from you.

“Stop,” he whined and you chuckled.

“I’m proud of you,” you said. “It only took you three hours in total to clean this small room,” you joked.

“Are you dissing me right now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” you teased with a wide grin.

“Come here,” he reached his arms towards you but before he could grab you, you got up and turned to look at him with a playful look.

“Come get me,” you giggled and started running towards the door immediately when you saw him getting up.

You were both quite playful by nature so this kind of situations were common. It’s not like you were always running around, you two often had lazy days too, but when you were running around, it was always just as fun. I guess you could say that the two of you woke up each other’s inner child every now and then.

It didn’t take long before you were both a little out of breath. After running around in the living room and kitchen area, you headed towards the second bedroom in the dorm which was the bedroom Dongmin and Bin shared. You knew it was a dead end but you still ran inside the surprisingly tidy room and turned around to look at Minhyuk.

“We’re going to get in trouble for being here,” he said but his voice didn’t show any signs of concern. He wasn’t worried about the older members’ scolding.

“You mean you are,” you panted a little, your mouth in a wide grin.

“You’re going to blame this on me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows while his lips remained curved in to a smile.

“You’re the one who chased me here, I had no other option!” you joked.

“Yeah, about the chasing…” he slowly walked towards you with a wide grin.

You tried to run away but he caught you easily by wrapping his arms around you tightly. You attempted to escape while laughing uncontrollably but he was too strong.

“You’re holding me too tightly,” you said while still laughing. You had tears in your eyes from all the laughing.

“Sorry,” he chuckled and loosened his arms around you and you looked up at him.

“Look what you did, I’m crying now,” you joked while gently rubbing your eyes.

“Let me see,” he gently grabbed your wrists and brought them down to reveal your teary eyes. He pouted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

With that he leaned down and pressed a light peck on your cheek. When he pulled back you met eyes and for a few seconds you both just stood there, looking at each other.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said and it definitely sounded like it came from the heart.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You think so?” you asked.

He let go of your wrists and answered your question with a loving gaze. Then he leaned closer again, this time to kiss your lips while his hands came up to gently hold your head. The kiss was sweet and gentle. His lips were soft and warm and it felt like they were made to fit yours since the kiss just felt so perfect. Not that that was anything new; the kisses you two shared always felt perfect no matter what they were like.

After pulling away from the kiss it took only a few seconds before your lips met again. This time the kiss felt hungrier, a little more intense. The following kiss got even more intense as you let your tongues meet. You were so focused on the kissing that you barely noticed your back hitting a wall.

You two weren’t all over each other, it wasn’t like what you often see in movies or TV. Making out was often portrayed as something very intense and hot but the way you two did it was quite different. It was sweet and loving, it wasn’t hurried or really intense. It was quite the opposite of the playful running you two had been doing earlier, this was a lot calmer.

Minhyuk pulled back and you both panted lightly. There was something very special about the moment and you could feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you looked at him. His lips formed a loving smile and you smiled a little seeing it. His gaze soon returned on your lips and your gazze returned on his and you couldn’t help but lean in for another set of those heart fluttering, perfect kisses.

Many loving looks and perfect kisses later Minhyuk’s lips left yours to explore your neck. It wasn’t the first time he was laying sweet pecks on your neck but it still sent shivers down your spine when he pressed his lips against the sensitive skin. The feeling was one of a kind and you loved it to death.

You felt a little pain as he created a small hickey on the side of your neck. It made you open your eyes and he had already pulled away from you.

“Too far?” he asked, worried he had hurt you.

You shook your head slightly. “It’s o-“

“YES, WAY TOO FAR!” you both flinched at the loud and unfortunately familiar voice of Bin.

“How long have you been there?” Minhyuk asked immediately.

“How long have you two been here?!” the older member asked and placed his hands on his sides, looking at both of you with a glare that had you immediately look down in embarrassment.

“Listen, hyung, we just got a little carried away,” Minhyuk tried to calm him down.

“A LITTLE?!” Bin asked as if he couldn’t believe what Minhyuk had just said.

“Gosh, let them live, Bin,” Jinwoo chuckled and entered the room.

“You were here too?!” Minhyuk’s eyes widened.

“Relax, we just came in like a few seconds ago,” Jinwoo said, amused by how embarrassed you two looked.

“What made you think this was a good place to get carried away?” Bin was still angry.

“Things just… went down that way,” Minhyuk mumbled while trying to avoid the older one’s angry glare.

“Ouch, that’s not nice,” Dongmin walked in. “You gave her a hickey.”

This made you both blush really badly and you were now both staring at the floor.

“I swear, these two should never be left alone with each other,” Bin murmured and left the room.

“What’s going on in here?” Sanha asked after entering the room with Myungjun.

“You know,” Jinwoo started while looking at the hickey on your neck. “Things could escalate really quickly from there,” he said while calmly pointing at the hickey.

If you weren’t already red as a strawberry, now you were and so was Minhyuk. Sanha seemed to be blushing too and the situation felt very awkward.

“You guys haven’t-“

“NO, definitely NOT!” Minhyuk cut off Jinwoo before he could finish. “And we’re not planning to!”

“Good,” Jinwoo seemed relieved.

“Just stop bothering them already,” Myungjun seemed amused by the situation and you thanked him in your mind.

God bless you Kim Myungjun.

anonymous asked:

What's with the alcoholism post? You also don't seem to be enjoying reyes week between your posts today and the deleted ones last night.

LOL call me out why don’t you nonny.

Like, at the risk of getting unfollowed and possibly provoking ire from a general corner of the Reyes fandom: no, I am not enjoying this Appreciation Week. So get ready for this big word vomit of a vague post.

There are posts that are referring to alcoholism as cute and sexy, which imo is just really insensitive and romanticizing an addiction many struggle with. It’s one thing to portray him (whether by fanfiction or fanart) enjoying his favorite bottle of whiskey or relaxing with a drink. It’s wholly another to do that and THEN label it in the cutest terms possible as alcoholism. The last part is an entirely added step that didn’t have to be there.

I also don’t mean to generalize, because a lot of great fanart and fanficlets are being written for this week. However, I am just kind of done with Reyes as the scary Latino lover who lets their lily white Ryder enjoy what it’s like being “dark.” 

There’s a history of this trope being used; there’s a history of literary examples of Latino characters allowing for white protagonists to explore a darker side to them in completely romanticized terms. It’s a history of white people writing people of color as an intrinsically other and morally compromised without any exploration of systemic issues, of social strictures that place them in such positions, etc.

To clarify, I do think Reyes is a morally complicated character who sees contrivance and murder as necessary. Yes, even the collective has a torture chamber, but these are standard espionage practices done by any military or militarized faction. To ascribe these actions to one individual as a symptom of how inherently “dark” he is makes me wonder whether people have ever heard of Machiavellian politics, and whether they understand these political intrigues occur as part of the US capitalist imperialist machine to begin with (and NOT with sadistic spicy Latino lovers).

Don’t even get me started on the shipping wars with bierasure, in which one side makes really misogynistic statements using the pretext of criticizing bierasure (as if bisexuality means only ONE gender can fit the bill and receipts need to be pulled to prove one’s bisexuality). 

By the way, for all this talk about racism when people were being critical about Andromeda, I see none of you ever supporting Ryders of color or Ryders made by writers of color. There is even much fewer people respecting Latino culture that goes behind a character like Reyes. 

And it’s funny how selective some of my followers get. They have no problem liking and reblogging things I post that let them enjoy this vision of Reyes undisturbed, but the moment I call out problematic fandom participation, these posts get (WEIRDLY) ignored. 

So at the risk of being that blog that calls people out for problematic bullshit and getting unfollowed for it, here’s the fucking tea. 

Evgeni Malkin #1 - English

Anon asked: Hey, I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do a Evgeni Malkin where he’s nervous talk to you because he doesn’t speak English that well.

This prompt really got away from me and ended up being the longest one I’ve written. I am wearing a Malkin t-shirt jersey as I type this and I promise that it was a coincidence. I love him way more than I probably should. I took the liberty of adding in Bryan Rust as a character to work out some plot holes so I hope that is okay! I hope you enjoy reading this an much as I enjoyed writing this!

You loved working in a bakery especially one you owned but sometimes being your own boss was tough. You were usually the first one in and that last one out but today you finally pawned off the late shift to someone else and left early. You felt guilty of course, it was your bakery so it almost felt like cheating when someone else did the work. If it hadn’t been for the insistent nagging of your younger brother to come support him at work you wouldn’t have left. You were the older sister to Bryan Rust a winger for the Pittsburgh Penguins and thorn in your side. They made it through to the second round of the playoffs as you expected but you would never let him know that. Each player was allotted a certain number of tickets per game and you insisted that it was only right that your parents and your other brother Matt got to go. You made excuses about being busy at work which were half true and finally he had enough. Bryan, armed with a jersey and threat to call your mother showed up during your lunch break to directly ask you to come to their game.

“Bryan you know I can’t leave when there is so much to get done!”

He pulled his best wounded look, “it’s like you don’t care about me or something.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“Prove it to me,” he crossed his arms, “come to the game tonight and as proof of attendance you have to meet me after in the locker room.”

You looked down at the stack of order forms on your desk, “fine. Yeah I’ll be there.”

Keep reading


Happy birthday TAKAO!! (21/11)

This is the more romantic I get, thanks to the lucky item of 21/11 for scorpio (that was “coincidentally” in first place) Purse and the color blue.

somehow also “””coincidentally””” the second place was cancer with a cough drop and pink.

Really wanted to finish this a day ago but…things happen orz, also sorry for the long post

 i really wanted to participate in something like takao week but i just hadn’t time..so at least the birthday one \o/ 

With the talk about Sonic Forces going around, there is one important thing I need to say.

If you think Sonic OCs are inherently cringy or bad, leave my blog. Now.

Are there are a lot of unpleasant or uncreative Sonic OCs? Sure. But you know what else has OCs like that?

Literally every children’s series ever, dudes. Have you ever seen some of the shit for Mario? Yu-Gi-Oh? POKEMON? Hell, you want my honest opinion, kids are better than some adults at making good OCs. They’re far more creative most of the time for sure.

But guess what? The way you make good characters or good writing is BY STARTING WITH “CRINGY” OR “EMBARRASSING” ONES. And quite frankly, you don’t get to decide what’s cringy or embarrassing.

Okay, so some kid might make a Sonic clone or Knuckles’ twice-removed brother from another dimension.

So what? What’s the problem with that? It’s giving them enjoyment, it’s giving them happiness, and it’s not like you’re having it forced down your throat.

I have Sonic OCs. I have a TON of them, and I support anyone who has them or enjoys having them. Because I am so damn tired of Sonic OCs being treated as some kind of “RPing sin”. Because I am so tired of them either being written off before anything about them is learned or them having to adhere to some miles-long checklist to be considered “serious”. Seriously, guys.

Grow the hell up and stop policing enjoyment or happiness.