i completely lost my point

Mistyping and Inferior Fe?

I have quite some history with mistyping myself. When I started getting into MBTI I did what everyone else did and just did a load of tests to see what I generally got. I still remember my first test result being INTP and I remember reading about that type briefly, going “yeah it’s me but not close enough so let’s keep digging” and doing more tests. This would be the start of a long journey of mistyping myself. Being a person with very weak/underdeveloped social skills I also did not have a clear idea of how I generally am as a person. Now, some of you probably understand this problem and how it’s a bit on the not-so-good-idea side of doing more personality tests. I did a lot of tests, found out how to get the results I wanted from letter-typing tests (not very difficult), and just completely lost the point. I typed myself as an INTJ my first year after doing that first MBTI test, asked my mum about what type of person I am since I knew I had absolutely no idea about how I am, and tried to read more about the topic. But, since my brain loses interest in things it can’t understand quickly I kept reading about cognitive functions (and enneagram on the side) little by little, and in the process tried typing people around me to further understand. I was way off, and so where they when I sent them test after test after test, asking about how and why when they got their results. It kept going, and I kept doing tests myself, asked for help with typing (here I think?), and got into ISTJ after a while. (Note: I mistyped myself as INTJ for about a year and then ISTJ for about a year.) The ISTJ online profiles somehow actually fit me, with the poor social understanding of others, off-beat humor, good memory of how things are/have been, and all the threatening what ifs in stressful situations. It was me, but a twisted portrait of me, and one I’ve come to understand doesn’t really fit most actual ISTJs. 

As a person who really has turned themselves inside-out to find out what the truth actually is, about me and about how my brain works, I must say it’s been a wild ride. Actually just typing this I was analysing how this explanation works into the Ti-Ne frame of thought.

What I really wanted to write about though, is the weird way someone with inferior Fe is often portrayed as quite careless about what others think of them and tertiary Fe still cares a lot about what others think. I’ve discussed quickly with a friend with tertiary Fe about how we use the function, because she’s generally good with people and often stays outwardly neutral, knows how to deal with them but generally doesn’t care what they think of her. Her wish has been for people to actually dislike her so they don’t need/want anything from her. My wishes has almost always been the exact opposite. I wouldn’t say I’m good with people, especially those I don’t like, and it’s often visible on me that I don’t like them. Especially if you contrast with people I do vibe with. I can’t fake an interest too much, and usually won’t unless I know I will need something from these people in the future, and I know it’s easier to get if they like me. But I still want people to like me, so that I can get what I want from them (validation?) and still stay important to them. I want people to like me, but I don’t want to like them. My friend wants to like/stay indifferent to people, and wanted for them to not like her. 

The friend mentioned above of course does the same as me sometimes (who doesn’t), but our motives and thoughts about people differ quite a lot. I’m not saying all IxTP/ExTP work with their Fe the way we do, but I do find the contrast funny since it’s often portrayed the other way around.

Inferior functions pull at us, because we’re aware of an imbalance.

A Ne-dom has a sneaking suspicion they ought to be better about details; a Se-dom feels the same about needing a personal vision for their future; a Fe-dom knows they should be less defensive and more analytical; an inferior Fi senses they should have a better connection to their emotional center and values; inferior Ne’s think they should be more creative / think outside the box more; inferior Se’s believe they need to ‘get out’ more and be more proactive; inferior Te’s know they should figure out how to make what they want happen; and inferior Fe knows they have a ‘relationship’ handicap and want to be liked.

There’s two kinds of people for each type, in that sense: those who ignore their inferior function altogether and do not bother to develop it (since it’s hard) and those who realize it’s a weak spot and work on it (often with success). That is why you will find one IXTP who is good natured, cares about others’ feelings, and has a “soft” approach to others, mindful of what they think of them; and another IXTP who is an obnoxious asshole who doesn’t care how people feel.

Or… an ENXJ who knows their logic could be better and reads more to strength it / engages in logical discussions vs the one who throws tantrums if you prod at their weak logic; or the EXTJ who tries to center themselves in projects that matter most to them and consider their relationships with others, vs the one who controls everyone without caring for their feelings; or the ESXP who works on framing a long-term ideal for their life while enjoying the present / thinks about the consequences of their decisions, vs the reckless ESXP who leaves people in the dust as they chase every new possibility; or the ENXP who makes an effort to keep track of details / ground themselves in choosing which ideas are most achievable in the short term vs the one who never finishes anything, or leaps in before they consider the amount of detail involved, and is a flake.

Or the ISXJ who expands their knowledge base and openness to new / different ideas through experiences and research / reading / seeking out Ne people, vs the one who shuts down anything that remotely threatens their small world; or the INXJ who learns to balance their lower sensory impulses with regular sensory stimulus vs the one who either becomes a monk who hates and preaches against anything to do with the sensory world (Gandhi?) or someone who routinely indulges in self-destructive ways; or the IXFP who starts to engage their logical centers and uses them to break down tasks into which order will lead to completion, vs the one who never strives toward any goals.

Tertiary functions often go to war with our auxiliary function.

Your EXTP friend feels being likable is a pain in the butt, because it gets in the way of logical detachment. As an ENFP, I feel like having strong emotional responses / being sensitive is a pain in my butt, because it gets in the way of efficiency (Te). Follow the logic further: as each tertiary function develops (often in your late teen years / 20′s / 30′s) it threatens the function above it; for awhile, people do not instinctively know how to integrate it and cause it to work together with the higher function.

People can shift into an “extreme” and choose a preferred function / use the other one badly (hating Fi so much, I’d rather use Te even if it’s worse… or hating Fe so much, let’s stick with Ti, because it’s better…) which will not help their functions work properly (each function needs its counterpart) or they can struggle for awhile to bring them into harmony, and eventually succeed.

Ti and Fe: you need people to like you, to get things done, and you need logic to back up your ethical judgments in order to remain objective / factual.

Fi and Te: you need the capacity to bring your passions into reality, through logical application and planning, but you also need to be in touch with what you are doing / care deeply about it, or you will not succeed.

Ni and Se: you need to be ready to jump on an opportunity when it arises, even if you have not much time to plan ahead, so that you can bring your vision into reality, and the objectivity to decide if your vision is possible, but you also need to have a vision.

Si and Ne: you need to open yourself up to new ideas and possibilities, in order to gain a better perspective on reality and see the truth of things; but most success relies on one’s ability to attend to necessary details.

- ENFP Mod

True Paradise (Saeran/MC)

I can’t breathe.


Actually, I can.

It’s just hard to. It’s hard when you’re not the only person in the room. It has never been easy when another person is involved, anyway. I should have realized that the first time I let myself be associated with her.

What was I thinking?

She invited me into her room, holding my hand. And I allowed her to do that. How foolish could I be? It should have been easy for me to reject her. To push her away, like my brother always did a long time ago when she was trying to help him saving me.

Shit. Now I realize something. He had won against me, for God knows how many times. I’m weak. I’ve always been weak. Both my body and now my mind. No wonder Mother liked to abuse me–maybe it’s not entirely her fault. I’m also at fault for being too weak and rely on my brother too much.

But… this is strange.

I stare at the ceiling, stupidly waiting for it to give me answers, somehow. I’m practically petrified. I can’t move. I’m struggling for air. Why the hell did I let myself be in this situation in the first place? I don’t get it.

It’s too late.

I’m getting used to this. I should have gotten used to being pressed down, being powerless, being under someone’s control like this. I’ve always been that one small-sized person to be picked on, someone who serves other people. A marionette. That’s what I am.

I thought I have changed after all that had happened to me. I should have become stronger already at this point. No one should ever pin me down like this again. Now that I think about it, I’ve always been secondary. Mother has had fun torturing me, then I was saved by Rika. Even so, I had become her servant. Again, secondary.

Then RFA saved me–I was saved for the second time in my life. Saved, saved, saved. Is that the purpose of my life? To be saved? When will I save someone? When will I be primary, be the first person? Be the person who does something?

I met her again. The woman I had sent to start everything all over again. I’m not sure how should I feel about her at first. It’s complex. Sometimes I can’t even look at her chocolate eyes.

Ha. I really want to laugh right now. Look at me. I’m disgusted.


This one’s different.

I hate her. Yes. I hate her so, so, so much. I hate her for turning me into a marionette again. I hate her for doing what she’s doing to me right now. Not letting me breathe properly… what the hell are you thinking, woman? Are you insane?

I hate myself. I thought I hated my brother the most, but I was wrong. I hate myself even more. I hate myself the most. I hate my weak, pathetic, disgusting, imbecile self. I hate myself for not resisting. I hate myself for letting her turning me into a secondary person again.

Most of all, I hate myself for falling into her trap. I hate myself more than I hate her.

I’m losing myself. How?

I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking. Of questioning. Of denying. Should I give up then? Maybe I’ll try harder next time. When she’s not being this… affectionate.

I like it.

I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’m being a marionette again. I swore to myself that I’m going to be a better person and everything. Look at me. What am I doing? She’s playing with my strings and I give her my permission. Who’s really at fault here?

I don’t plan to stop her. This is funny. I hate her. She is able to destroy me. I hate it. For the first time tonight, I actually enjoy being a marionette.


Lips on skin. A kiss.

Teeth sinking in. A bite.

Hands stroking my cheek. My hair.

Thumb swiping my bottom lip.

Hand tracing my arm. Find its way to my hand.

Fingers entangle. Fit each other like a completed piece of puzzle.

Mint green meets chocolate. Mint choco chip? I must be out of my mind.

Woman, can’t you see? Can’t you see how much I’m suffering because of you right now?

My widened eyes, my slightly parted lips, my short breaths, my heart that is beating so fast it doesn’t feel like it’s beating at all anymore?

Do you want me to die? Just say so.

You can kill me right here, right now.

“Hold me.”

Her voice. It is dark. Just like the room we’re in.

And I obey her like a disgusting pathetic worthless servant fool I am.

Why? Why do I make everything so easy for her?

My brain stops working. Lack of oxygen.

I let her guide my other, free hand.

And she straight up kills me. She locks me up with her lips.

She moves. I gasp.

She moves. I stop breathing for some moment.

She moves. I die a little inside.

With each moves, she kills me. Little by little.

She sends her toxin through my spine, spreading all over my body.

I’m dizzy. The world is spinning.

I’m sweating. I’m draining. I’m dying.

She shows me no mercy. She hates me so much. She really wants to end my life.

I want to tell her to stop. But I can’t do anything. I’m practically in a coma.

No. Scratch that.

I don’t even want her to stop.

I don’t know what’s in my head at this point. I have completely lost control of myself.

She continues to intoxicate me until there’s too much toxin in my body, much more than I can handle.

I scream.

Probably one of the loudest scream that ever comes out of my mouth in my entire life.

I can’t do this anymore.

Sweating, panting, my vision turns blurry.

Her face is the last thing I remember before everything goes black.

I’m dead.


It’s way past midnight. I look at the clock and it shows me 2 AM. I sit on this bed with clouds of smoke surrounding me. Good thing I still carry it around. My brother would have been mad at me if he had seen me do this, but I don’t care anymore. It does a better job in calming my nerves down than he does.

I don’t get it. I don’t understand any of this. I thought I was going to die for real, but I just had my most peaceful sleep in forever, albeit not for long. I have so many things going on inside my head, it’s insane. With every smoke I breathe, one thing in my head comes outside.

At least I think it does.

From the very first moment, I don’t get it. What is this? What is all of this? Why did she invite me into her room? Why did I let her? Why did she do all these things to me? Why did I let her? I don’t understand her. I don’t understand myself either. We are both crazy.

I thought I hated people. I hate my brother. I hate RFA. I hate Rika. I hate everyone. But did I really hate them? Or I just thought I did? I thought I hated her, this brunette-haired woman. Seeing her face makes me sick. Sick of hatred? Sick of guilt? I don’t know.

So many questions, yet no answer. Am I going to have another one of those sleepless night?

I look at her. She’s sleeping. She looks so peaceful. Hands wrapping around my waist. I hate it. I hate her. It’s not fair. She is the one who does this to me. She is the reason why I can’t sleep. She builds all these questions in my head. It’s really unfair. She can have her sleep while I can’t even close my eyes.

And then she wakes up. Those chocolate eyes of hers open. She stares at me right away.

“Well hello there, night owl.”

I say nothing. I only return her stare and that’s all.

She chuckles. “My body pillow has to sleep.”

Body pillow? She addresses me as her body pillow? How dare she.

“I’m not your body pillow, woman.”

“But your body says otherwise.” She wraps me tighter. Now I hate her even more. “Can I hug you like this forever?”

This woman is insane. If I had known it sooner, I would’ve chosen another woman.

“No. You can’t.”

“Very well, then.”

She lets go of my waist and sits right beside me. We stare at each other for a while. Then she glances at my cigarette. She takes it from me just like that. Within seconds, she blows some smokes while looking at me.

I can’t do anything about it. Why is that? I’m angry with her. But it’s only in my head. I stare at her, watching her as she enjoys my cigarette. What is this? This view… why can’t I stop it?

“What makes you so nervous? Anxious? Hmm?”

I frown. “I’m not nervous nor am I anxious.”

She blows another smoke. Long and slow. “Don’t lie to me. Not many people know this but… I smoke when I get too nervous or anxious.”

“I’m not you.”

It must be an incorrect answer. She closes the gap between us. We have no distance until I can feel her breath touching my face.

“This cigarette tastes funny. Sweet. Like… apple caramel? Now I know what you’ve had before this.”

I roll my eyes. She is goddamn annoying. “Shut up.”

“I like it when you’re angry,” she says. Before I have the chance to do anything, she strokes my hair. Her fingers brush through each strand. Then she entangles them into her hand. She has fun playing with my hair. What is wrong with this woman? “I know you’re flustered. All of this… must be new to you.”

She blows another smoke.

“I can’t sleep as well. You might think that I was sleeping so peacefully earlier, but I wasn’t. As soon as you woke up, I did too.”

I stare at her. Should I tell her how I really feel? I have so much in my mind, it’s disturbing. I want to know what’s wrong with me, what’s happening to me, what’s the meaning of all this. God. I want to be free.

“I just want to sleep.” I say.

She looks at me. We stare at each other. Her hand is still on my hair. “Alright.”

She stubs out MY cigarette. But I don’t want to deal with it. She can do whatever she wants for all I care. Like I said before, I just want to sleep. If she can’t help me, nobody else can.

All of a sudden, she cups my face. Mint green meets chocolate again. “Not all people are bad. I know everything you’ve been through. I understand if it’s hard for you to trust someone ever again. But I will never hurt you. Take my word.” She says with her rough voice.

Hurt? Hurt me? I remember what happened to me before I fell asleep. I remember that I was dying. I couldn’t breathe. I was tortured. Abused? But why am I still here? I have no intention to leave. I don’t even have intention to flinch. Is it because I’ve already gotten used to being abused?

What kind of abuse was that? The kind of thing that makes me want to stay? Is that even possible? No. It was different. Mom yelled at me when she made those bruises, she clearly despises me. People at Mint Eye also yelled at me when they injected those needles into my skin. I was hurt really bad back then. Now that everything’s been done, I realize that Mint Eye was merely an illusion.

Tonight is different. I admit that I was tortured, but actually, it didn’t feel that bad. If she really were to kill me, I don’t mind being killed that way. At least it was better than ropes and needles. She kissed me, held me, touched me. No one has ever done things like that to me before.

At this point, I have given up. I’m tired of resisting. It costs a lot of energy, but is of no use. It’s far too late anyway. Just do everything you want to do to me, woman. Do as you please.

“You can have the best time of your life if it’s with the right person.” She whispered.

With that, she kisses me on my lips. I close my eyes. She kisses me again. Numerous times. Slowly. Passionately. She kisses my cheek, all the way down to my neck. Her one hand grabs and pulls my hair down, forcing me to tilt my head. I’m shutting down.

With every kiss and every touch, she sends me deeper and deeper into slumber. I’ve never been this serene for God knows how long. Even in my whole time when I devoted all of my body and soul to serve Mint Eye where I could find my paradise, I’ve never felt like this. I thought Mint Eye was my everything, but it was nothing compared to… this. Whatever torture this is, I… like it.

I’ve always been told that people are horrible creatures. They are sinners, made by the Devil to destroy Earth. Rika, Mint Eye, and I have the job to prevent those dirty rotten humans from ruining this world. They need to be cleansed. I believe in that, looking at my parents and then my brother.

But what about her?

And what about this? Are we sinners? Do we need to be punished? How much of a sin is this? Are we destroying the world by doing this? If this is what they call a sin, I understand why Satan willingly lives in hell for eternity. I choose this over whatever it is that’s been given to me in Mint Eye.

Rika always says that Mint Eye is a paradise because it’s free from pain and fear. Everyone there is supposed to be faithful, trustworthy, and honest. But those needles hurt me. But Rika herself betrays me in front of my brother. As for this woman… I have yet to see her betray me and hurt me. She never betrays me even if my brother is around us all the time. The thing that she has done to me earlier leaves me breathless, but at least it made me sleep.

Does that mean… this is a paradise?

“Feel sleepy now?”

Her voice. I’m already half-conscious. I can’t open my eyes. My head feels light. It’s like I’m not here anymore. But I can still feel it. Her kissing my face and my body while she pushes me gently onto the bed. I breathe slowly. She strokes my hair and caresses my cheek.

Is this what true paradise feels like?

I feel no pain. I feel no fear. Only peacefulness and contentment. No needles. No medications. No ropes. No bruises. No anything. Just me and her.

She kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, sleep tight, and have a nice dream, sleepyhead.” She whispered.

I don’t want to leave. I want to be in this paradise forever. This is the place I’m looking for

She lays herself down right beside me, pulling the covers up our bare skin. The night is cold. I’m almost shivering. Unconsciously, I wrap my arms around her as I keep her close to me. That way, we’ll be warm together.

It’s funny how the question and its answer lie on a same person.

Now that everything’s clear…

I’m asleep for real.

The End

P.S: Lolololol I’m sorry. Maybe someday I’ll write a real Saeran smut. Becauseapparentlysubmissivesaeranismynewestkink. Hohoho. Maybe… someday… a real dominant Saeran smut… who knows…

anonymous asked:

is it a bpd thing to be slow? for lack of a better word? like i always forget certain phrases and how to spell things and the meaning of words even though i did well academically before my mental illnesses kicked in. it's like my knowledge has... regressed. also, i need people to tell me EXACTLY how to do my work for school or i'm completely lost to the point i can't do it. like, literally cannot do it. all typical instructions are too vague. idk i just feel.. not all there intellectually ??????

So, BPD causes cognitive issues, which can include vocabulary, cognitive processing speed and things like that. However I can’t tell you for sure it’s BPD, as there are lots of factors that could be causing this (e.g. ADHD), just that BPD can have these types of effects

Um, so I was making this for a while, and… I kinda just decided to stop. I planned all the pages out, but it just lost its appeal to me, so here’s some unfinished comics pages. I think this comic test is a failure, the story is pretty boring and I completely lost my point, but I learned some stuff from it that I can use to improve on my next project. Also I liked the character Agatha, so she might in be in my next work who knows

I Think They Like You (Part 1)

Prompt: ok like someone was in their first relationship and they were about to meet the parents for the first time and the mom is super excited but then they breaks up but they don’t want to upset their mom so they ask their best friend to say that they finally came together bc their mom shipped it hardcore

i hope you understand what i mean

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Word Count: 1124 words

 Warnings: none

 Author’s Note: thanks again for the prompt, used it for the initial plot line and added and tweaked few bits to make it a bit more exciting, which hopefully worked. Also going to make it into a 3 part, where in this one it’s the intro to the whole story – like the backbone, the 2nd is the dinner where things start getting heated and the third part if gonna be full on, blissful smut. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated xxx

Keep reading


Okay SO… in a sleep deprived stupor after a week of doing mission in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, I came to perhaps the greatest revelation of my life.

So y’all remember this tweet, of course.

And we all though ‘oh, it’s just Jaden being weird and meta again and we laughed, but I’m the type of person who has to analyze everything and this has been swimming around in my head for two years and it always bugged me that I couldn’t even think of what he was trying to say. 

And so my sleepless, burned out brain was thinking about it because our mission group had stopped in a hotel on the way home and it was the first time I had felt a real bed and not an air mattress on the floor in a week and I was thinking about random shit.


When he was saying “Real” he didn’t mean as in existing he meant as in HONEST (as in like “I’m gonna be real with you, that’s a bad haircut”)

SO if you real it THAT way it makes perfect sense “How Can Mirrors Be HONEST If Our Eyes Aren’t HONEST

Like, if our eyes don’t tell the truth about us, then we’re going to look at the way we perceive ourselves when we look in the mirror, not the way we really are.

Needless to say, when I figured this out I screamed (as best I could as I had completely lost my voice at this point) rolled over in bed and banged on the wall which separated me from my friend I was rooming with who was in the bathroom, screaming something along the lines of: “JADEN SMITH… MIRRORS, REAL, FIGURED IT OUT!” in a pathetic, hoarse wail. I then commenced crying for about a solid minute followed by manic laughing as though i had just cracked the fucking Kennedy Assassination.

I feel as though everyone needs to know this.

So all in all it was a pretty good trip.

TL;DR Jaden Smith isn’t as crazy as we thought he was, but apparently I am.

The House on the Rock in Spring Green, Wisconsin is one of the weirder places I’ve been to. Not for anyone with claustrophobia, acrophobia (the infinity room will fuck you up) or problems with poor air quality. 

At first it seems pretty and chill

It’s serene. Koi ponds, statues, bridges and stone paths. 

But then you enter the house. The first part, built by the original architect, is dark and low and definitely gives you a creepy seventies orgy feel. Lots of stone steps, off limit ornate doorways, giant fireplaces. My pictures from there sucked so just imagine it. There was a lot of orange and red carpet and thousands of books and art pieces, mostly 50′s era oriental stuff. And it is dark in there. 

She can be seen in the infinity room, which is built to force perspective and comes to a narrow point suspended higher than the fucking mature pine trees growing on the boulders below. Take a few steps past her and the entire room shakes with your footsteps and you realize how high up you are and how poorly supported it feels…brrrr

The second part is really when you’re enthusiastic. Giant calliope? Awesome!

An orchestra that plays by itself? Sweet

More creepy orchestral sounds and chandeliers? Bring it

There are so many collections housed here. Almost anything you could think of. Carnival grade craziness. Creepy dolls galore. There’s a giant fake whale. Not a big one, a giant one. So big I knew I’d never get an accurate photo. 

Speaking of creepy dolls…

Yes it’s another orchestra and yes the mannequins move

Around the time we were walking through the collection of miniature circus dioramas, after walking through like twenty other collections of other such things, it was well into the second hour. This is a three hour tour and that’s only if you’re walking fast. There are escape doors everywhere but if you bail you can’t go back in. I admit that at this point I had completely lost my sense of humor and I had begun to hate the architect, his son, and every tiny clown in every diorama behind every sheet of dusty Plexiglas. So it was with great relief that I entered the fabled carousel room…

This is what is hanging on the ceiling. Adult sized mannequins with wings. A lot of them. 

But wait there’s more

I’m honestly not convinced I ever saw the end of the carousel. You walk up a circular ramp to view the layers of cray full of dolls and mannequins and yes, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. 

My photos don’t do this place justice. I think, out of self-defense, I forgot a lot about it. There is an ice cream shop at the end. You will have terrible dreams that night. Don’t stay in the shitty hotel they’re affiliated with. Yes, it’s worth it. Yes, they have a Halloween event every year. Just in case you’re interested. 

Steve Rogers Imagine-  Cuddle Bug

There was nothing that I loved more than movie night at the tower with Steve. We had slowly been showing him all of the movies that he’d missed while on ice. It was always fun and I got to spend time with the man I had crush on. I was basically living the dream right now.

“So what one do you want to watch now?” Steve asked while coming back into the living room.

“I picked last time, it is your turn,” I replied.

Steve looked at the large stack of movies before putting on in the dvd player. He then came over and sat close to me on the couch. Steve put an arm over the back of the couch and it brushed my shoulders. I discreetly leaned back so that they were touching. He didn’t seem to notice and even started playing with the ends of my hair. I completely lost the point of the movie after that.

My eyes started to flutter close as he played with my hair and my body realized just how late it was getting. I snuggled into his side and he wrapped his arm tighter around me. My head had just landed on his shoulder when I had fallen asleep.

I heard giggles and something that sounded like clicking that had stirred me from my sleep. My eyes opened and I saw a certain redhead along with a black haired man run away. I was confused as to what Nat and Tony had found so funny until I felt arms tighten around me. I looked down to see a pair of arms encasing my middle. I then looked over my shoulder to see a sleeping Steve. We must have fallen asleep on the couch and ended up like this in the night. Steve looked so peaceful right then and I had the urge to kiss those soft pink lips. I decided against it though and cuddled back into him. I could enjoy the moment a little longer and go back to sleep.

The next time I woke up someone was stroking my cheek with their fingertip. When my eyes opened this time I saw Steve smiling down at me. I grinned back at him.

“Morning Y/n,” he said.

“Morning Steve. What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I thought you looked to peaceful to disturb. Besides, I just woke a couple of minutes ago.”

“Sure you did Steve.” I rolled out of his arms and walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. I stopped once I was in the doorway though and Steve bumped into me because there was a large picture on the fridge. It was of Steve and I cuddling on the couch with sleepy smiles on both of our faces.

“Care to explain that photo?” Nat asked with a smirk on her face once she saw Steve and I blushing at the sight of the picture.

“Could we have a moment?” Steve questioned and everyone but us left the room. I turned to look at him.

“Why did you ask everyone to leave?”

“I didn’t want them to hear me confessing that I like you. Nat said explain the photo and that is what I’m doing. I really like you in a more than friends way and that is why I slept on the couch with you. It was the only way I could get close to you without admitting my feelings because I was too scared to tell you.”

“Steve you shouldn’t have been scared.”

“Why is that?”

“I like you in a more than friends way too.”


“Of course I do. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Not to me. Does this mean that you’ll let me take you on date?”

“It does. I’ll be ready at seven.”

“It’s a date.”

“See you then soldier.” I kissed his cheek before walking away.

Setting the record straight…

A few weeks ago, I reblogged a post about trans children, and my point got completely lost because I didn’t make it clear enough.

Never intended to imply that children cannot be transgender as young as 3 or 4. Never meant that. Please forgive me for not making that clear.

The post was intended to point out the responsibility of parents to ensure that their toddler is actually trans. I have read several articles from parents of trans children, and my heart breaks just imagining that journey. I cannot imagine actually experiencing it. But I have all the respect in the world for those parents who are open to the idea but also patiently wait to be sure.

Please forgive me if i hurt you with that post.

Submit Anon: Obnoxious Yaoi weeb

Flash back to the beginning of my senior year. I had lost my interest in anime and manga completely by that point. I was more confident than I had been, but still suffered from some social anxiety. My closest group of friends still numbered five (as we had since elementary school), but our overall group had grown quite a bit. We would hang out before school, since our freshman tradition had remained intact. We were also a friendly group, so as long as no one caused any trouble, we had no problem with new people hanging out with us.

Part of the “no trouble” clause was respecting personal boundaries. Some of the group was fine with all manner of physical contact. Others were only okay with some. Others of us still preferred not to be touched at all. Now, for this portion of the story, my closest friends will be known as Kitty, Birdie, Dog, and Ferret; I will be Mousie (as they teasingly dubbed me ‘mousie’ because of how timid I had been).

Though I had lost my interest in anime/manga entirely, I still wore my old anime shirts because I really hated shopping and hadn’t bothered updating my wardrobe. It was the second week of the new school year, and we were all doing our usual before school: sitting around talking, drawing, poking fun at each other, reading, passing manga around, playing games…all was good.

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What Happened? (Part 2)

His P.O.V.


“Oh my god, Harry!” She lets out a laugh as she shoves me. “I have a better one, though. The best one I’ve ever heard!” We’re talking about dirty pick-up lines, and trying to one-up each other.

“Pfft! Try me.” I challenge her, a smirk on my face.

“Okay, okay.” She grins, probably internally laughing at her own joke. She stands up and sits on my lap, the starts playing with my shirt. “This is for the full effect.” She states, but I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse to sit on my lap. Don’t get me wrong, though, I don’t mind at all. “You know, this shirt looks very becoming on you. But of course, if I were on you, I’d be coming, too.

I throw my head back and let out a laugh. Ok, that was a good one. She’s about to get up off of my lap, but I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back down and lets out her adorable giggle. “Where do you think you’re going?” I chuckle. Our faces are centimeters apart and all I can think about is kissing her. I notice her eyes are darting back and forth from my eyes, to my lips, she wants to kiss me, too. We lean in simultaneously, but our lips hardly brush against each other’s when Louis’ loud voice interrupts us, and we pull apart.

“Get a room!!” He shouts.

I roll my eyes in annoyance, while Y/N chuckles and hops off my lap. Dammit, Louis! I flip him the bird, and he laughs, knowing exactly why.


It was supposed to only be sex. So why do I feel something more? I didn’t realize how hard I had fallen for her until then. Now she and Louis are all over each other, consistently flirting, like her and I used to do. I’m not normally the jealous type, but there’s something about her that makes me drawn to her. Is it her mesmerizing eyes? You can get trapped in those eyes. Whatever it is, I’ve found myself falling for her and she doesn’t talk to me anymore, but that’s my fault. I don’t mean to be so passive aggressive with her but I can’t help it and I have no idea why. I’m never like this.

I’m walking to my dressing room, passing the lounge where Y/N and Louis are sitting. I look straight ahead, trying to act like I don’t even notice they’re there. As I’m passing, I see Y/N in my peripheral get up from the couch and fast walk over to me.

“Hey, I saw this funny pic-“ She starts once she’s caught up to me.

“Is this going to be quick? ‘Cause I’ve got shit to do.” I snap and I immediately regret it.

Her face falls, “Never mind. I’ll leave you alone.” She scoffs and walks away. I reach out to grab her arm but she walks away too fast, going down the hall to her dressing room and I know I pissed her off.


At the club, I go off on my own to find someone to fuck and hopefully get Y/N off my mind. It’s a stupid crush and I need to forget about it. I find an attractive girl alone at the bar and I approach her. Turns out, she’s single and her name is Maddie, so I buy her a drink.

Next thing I know, I’m completely wasted. Maddie and I are outside of the club waiting for our cab to pull up. Her lips are on my neck and her touching me everywhere, while I’m getting scraped by my zipper.

The cab pulls up and Maddie enters it first. I glance behind me for a moment and spot Y/N walking towards the hotel. I want to say something but Maddie whines so I get into the cab, then close the door.

Back at the hotel, Maddie’s all over me, but all I can think about is Y/N. I think about her laugh when I make a stupid joke. Her sarcastic comments on just about anything. God, she’s so pretty. And when she fucks… God damn, she’s incredible in so many ways. She’s any guy’s dream girl! As Maddie goes down on me, think about how Y/N’s lips tasted after they were wrapped around my cock ever-so perfectly. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s bloody good at it.

Then I went down on her, she shivered at my touch, the closer I was to her pussy, the faster her breathing was. She tasted so damn good and felt so damn good around me, so fucking tight.

After about ten minutes I open my eyes and see Maddie’s face and the illusion is gone and I am no longer into this at all and I cut it short. Understandably, Maddie is pissed off and stomps out of the room. I lay on the bed for maybe five minutes, thinking about Y/N, I remember that she was walking back here, so she’s probably in her room by now.

I exit the hotel room and walk down the hall until I’m at her room. I hear the television on and I know she’s there. I knock on the door and it takes her a moment before she opens the door. I’m taken aback for a moment when I realize that she’s wearing nothing except for an oversized black t-shirt that barely covers her perfect ass.

“Can I help you?” She snaps at me, and I’ve completely lost my train of thought at this point.

“I… Um…”

“Is this going to be quick? Because I have shit to do.” She’s using my words from earlier against me and I’m once again feeling the guilt I felt when the words came out of my mouth.

“Y/N,” I start. “Can we talk?”

She scoffs, “What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

I sigh, this is my fault. If could just get over my jealousy. “Look, I know I’ve been an ass but just… hear me out.”

“I don’t want to.” She says angrily. “Where’s that girl you brought back here to fuck? You get sick of her, too?”

Fuck. She saw us, this looks bad. “Y/N-”

“Fuck off, Styles.” She growls, then slams the door shut.

Part One

Request for Part Three here

okay, this is something that’s been bothering me more and more lately and while i’ve made posts about it before, i want to put my entire position clearly into one post.

mashima and the fandom are both incredibly disrespectful to lucy.

i’m not even gonna get that much into the stone age omake because that entire thing is a hot mess that further proves my point, but i have completely lost track of how many times lucy’s been sexually harassed. hell, i’ve lost track of how many times natsu alone has grabbed her boobs. it’s disgusting that an author who has created such a beautiful, strong, complex character is so frequently reducing her to this.

and how does the fandom treat it? most of the time, like a joke or a ship moment. it kind of scares me that every time lucy gets harassed (a recent example being brandish using her size change magic on lucy’s boobs) a large part of the fandom seems to find it hilarious. and if natsu is involved? seemingly almost all of the na//lu fandom gushes about how romantic it is.

there’s nothing cute or funny about sexual harassment. it’s incredibly disturbing not just how the fandom treats these moments, but also that they’re happening in the first place. lucy being harassed has become something to be expected of fairy tail. it’s gross, it’s creepy, and lucy deserves so much better.

Stressed Out- Calum Hood

Requested: Yes!

Could you do one where you’re sitting home for hours and still have to do tons of work and calum comes over to relieve the stress and you both end up cuddling while he sings to you 💕 Thanks 🙈

Hope you like it!

Requests are still open. If you want a personal imagine just leave your name and which boy you want your story to be about. 

SIDENOTE: I linked the song that I referenced down below in the story!


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