i tried a ting

2

IG boyfriends! Jungki~ (who are in different countries and can’t stop missing each other)

[Translations of the captions and the commetns:

JungJung’s picture-

zzt_1996-    who are you missing, teddy bear? #sad

eun_doitz-   could that person be…me… hahaha

Eunki’s picture-

eun_doitz-   Hello Teddy Bear… #dontbesad

zzt_1996-    Missing you Eunki-ah~ byung byung]

art by my lollipop ♥ @drawverylittle inspired by chapter 9 of chances are

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here. crying. and yelling. and making pterodactyl noises. no big.

THANKS BABE YOU ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU  ♥♥♥

from this scene:

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Muse (REQUEST)

Justin has a new hobby. Painting. He claims he needs a Muse so his nanny suggests that her neice be it. Justin’s a little indecisive because when he was little he met her and she wasn’t in the scale of his good taste. But when he sees her he discharges all of what he thought.

Since the request says “Nanny”, I assume that Justin is younger in this imagine. You decide his age.

“Painting, again, Justin? That’s fast becoming your third one this week.”

I turned my head towards Jane, my nanny, and nodded, “Sure am. I think it might be my new favourite thing to do.”

I set my paintbrush down in the mason jar of, now murky green water, “But, I’m getting bored of this piece. I wanna focus on something in front of me, not from my imagination - a muse, as artists would say.”

Painting was something I’d found great pleasure in, and, since starting over 3 months ago; I’d accumulated quite the collection of canvases. I never wanted to put the brush down. Creating things was something I loved to do, whether that be writing or making up a tune on the keyboard - though, those hobbies lasted maybe a week or two, I was hooked on this kind of art.

“Well, you’re doing a great job with this one,” Jane said, setting her hand on my shoulder, looking intently at the log cabin hidden amongst trees that I was currently producing, “But if you’re looking for a muse, how about my niece, (Y/N)? You’ve met her before.”

I pulled a face, “(Y/N) and I weren’t exactly… the best of friends when we first met, were we?”

It was true. She couldn’t deny it. Jane had brought her over a few years ago, to hang out, and she was very annoying. Her traits and personality made her ugly to me; I didn’t want to paint something ugly.

“You guys were younger. I’m sure you’ll enjoy painting her once you’ve started. How about it?”

I could tell that she wasn’t letting up, perhaps I would just give Jane the painting once I had finished with it. I didn’t particularly want a canvas of (Y/N) in my collection, it would stick out like a sore thumb.

A sigh left my lips, “Okay, fine. Tell her to come tomorrow.”

_____________________________________

I heard the door click, signalling to me that Jane had arrived with (Y/N); I ignored it, continuing to practice a new technique I’d discovered, dry brush. It was harder to correct my work if I messed up, since I couldn’t use water - though, I did find myself cheating at times and reaching for my mason jar.

“Justin, (Y/N) is here!”

I groaned and put my brush down, running my hands down my face. Here we go. I’d never created still life, Lord knows how long it would take, much to my dismay. Standing up from my stool, I slid open the door that connected the sun room to my living room and stopped in my tracks as my eyes met with (Y/N)’s.

Gulping, I watched as she smiled at me. A few years could definitely change a person, all right. Her once curly, mop hair had been straightened, brows were tame and being the guy that I am; I, of course, took great appreciation in noticing the way her body had developed and was maturing into the woman she was to become.

Hopefully her personality had changed, too.

“(Y/N), good to see you again.”

“And you, Justin.”

Jane glanced between us with a grin on her face and I rolled my eyes playfully at her. A blush grew on her cheeks as she realised that I’d caught her, and she coughed. “Right, I’ll let you get on with it. I’ll bring you guys some tea or something in a moment.”

Nodding, I led (Y/N) through to where my easel and paints were set up and I brought a stool around for her, to which she thanked me.

“So, it’s been a while.” She breathed, shrugging her denim jacket off and taking a seat.

“It has,” I agreed, clearing my throat, “You look different.”

“Well I should hope puberty had done something,” She giggled, making me smile, “You look different, too. A good different.”

“Thank you,” I picked up a fresh canvas, “So, I’ve never painted somebody before. I’m not purposely trying to make you look ugly.”

Her jaw dropped slightly and she laughed, “Okay, I look forward to seeing the end result. How do you want me?”

Her choice of words made my cheeks burn and mind wander to the more secretive parts of my brain, I looked away momentarily to compose myself, only to spot Jane walking in with two mugs.

“Here you go, you two. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

“How about… head resting on your palm?”

She moved around, crossing her leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee. (Y/N) set her head in her hand and raised a brow, staring back at me innocently, “Like this?”

Who needed me to paint her, she was already a work of art.

“Perfect,” I mumbled, reaching for my freshly sharpened pencil.

Her eye contact was mesmerising, yet intimidating - I found myself looking away every so often to break the hold she currently had over me. I laughed as she asked sweetly if I could pause so that she could sip her tea, I took those occasional moments as my opportunity to open a window or drink, myself.

“This might take longer than anticipated.” I said, drawing out her collar bone that was visible since she was dressed simply in a plain white camisole.

“Really? How much longer?” She asked.

“Like… a few more sessions longer.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I mean, if that’s fine with you.”

I bit my bottom lip, “Of course.”

_____________________________________

“You’re very beautiful, (Y/N).” I plucked up the courage to say.

I was around half way done with drawing the face, and I had made that observation as soon as I’d began. Having to stare closely at her features made me nervous, almost, though I tried not to show it.

Her cheeks tinged pink and I grinned, “T-thank you.”

“And you’ve been good to hang around with. You’re not as annoying this time around.”

She gasped and I chuckled, “Hey. You were annoying, too.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her child-like comeback, “Sure I was. Now stop distracting me, I’m working.” She went to protest but I blocked my ears, making her huff.

In many ways (Y/N) was still the same little girl I’d met years ago, except, this time she acquired a more sophisticated and mature manner. Sure, she still sucked at comebacks and was stubborn like hell - but, she had learned to be patient, could hold a conversation and surprisingly, she was funny.

Not to mention she was beautiful.

“C-could you, umm… sit more upright?”

(YN) glanced downward and blushed as she noticed that I could, very noticeably, view her cleavage and she sat up, pulling her t-shirt with her, “S-sorry. Completely unintentional.”

I smiled softly and went back to the canvas. Perhaps I would deliberately take longer than needed to finish this piece… and it was definitely joining my collection.

anonymous asked:

Unnie! Can you do a part two to making out in a movie theatre bathroom w/ hanbin? I loved it btw xx

hi darlin! this was super fun to write, thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoyed it xx

Title: Hanbin Sleeps Over (Part 2 to the Movie Theatre Bathroom scenario)

Pairing: Hanbin (B.I.) x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Kitten

Word Count: 1,700

Overview: Hanbin comes over to your house one Saturday night, but the paparazzi follow him. He has to hide in your house, and since it is late, he has to sleep over. However, since he is a little brat he refuses to sleep on the couch and ends up sharing your bed with you…shirtless.

Originally posted by gae-phull

The doorbell chimes just as you’re bringing the spoon full of ice cream up to your lips. Mouth still agape, you glance over at the door then back to the spoon. You slightly whimper as you stick the soft and creamy ice cream back into the carton. Who dare interrupt your lazy Saturday night? You had had a crazy long week and tonight you were finally able to just relax and not have to worry about anything. All you wanted to do was put on some Law and Order and eat a tub of ice cream. Which is exactly what you had started to do when whoever was at the door decided to ruin that.

You groan in frustration as you slam the tub down onto the table. As you push yourself off of the couch, the person outside knocks impatiently on the door. You pause, wondering why they would knock if they had just rung the doorbell. Talk about being impatient.

You’re a few steps away from the door when the bell rings out two more times. “Hold on, jeez!”

Reaching out for the door, you grab onto the knob and fling it open. Your eyes grow wide as you take in the hooded figure standing on your doorstep.

“Hanbin?” You ask incredulously. Seeing him immediately put butterflies in your stomach that you didn’t want to feel.

He looks up from under his hood, grinning at you. “Hi there.”

You close your eyes and lean your forehead against the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me. Shall I remind you of what happened a week ago in a certain movie theatre bathroom?” Hanbin winks at you and casually leans against the frame of the door.

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feisty?!

ok so i’ve been in love with I’m-an-octopus’s work and blog and everything tbh, and when i heard bae wasn’t accepting requests atm and i saw these two hc’s i really could not help myself !!!!! apologies if this is incoherent as I am writing it just past 3am. and also woohoo happy birthday Chris Pratt, love of my life!!

lil owen grady x reader.

this is written from the pov of a female bae. :-)

http://im-an-octopus.tumblr.com/post/122053189754/okay-so-y-n-is-a-pterodactyl-trainer-whos-been and http://im-an-octopus.tumblr.com/post/122046860069/female-bae-hanging-with-barry-and-owen-when

let’s do this

“Aight. For real though, come talk to me when you have Blue perched on your shoulder and following you around.” You sent a sly smirk Owen’s way and leant back on the wall of the raptor enclosure, relishing in Barry’s raucous laughter.

Owen held up two hands in defense, grinning at your remark. “Hey, you may be in the right in this case, but is that a blush I see tinging your cheeks?”

You huffed and tried to play off the obvious heat rising from your neck up. You may or may not have been keeping your eyes on Owen since he complimented your work after you started your training work with your pterodactyl babies. You had a sneaky feeling Barry knew, as whenever you two started at your banter again he kept his brows raised at you 99% of the time.

Just as you opened your mouth to make a pretty clever comeback, Hoskins lumbered by and paused by you three, raising his eyebrows when he saw your equipment and uniform.

“Grady, what is this lady doing so near the enclosure? Please escort her out of the perimeter, there is plenty of women’s work to be done around the food court and shopping mall.” He clapped his hands and made a shooing motion with his hands, which was right before you began to even process his words.

The blush rising in your cheeks became a hot fire and Barry stepped back, having a premise of what was to come. Owen kept his steely glare at Hoskins, thankfully not replying. This was your fight.

“I’ll show you women’s work when I shove my boot so far up your ass-“ Owen lunged at you and covered your mouth slightly, cutting off your fiery rant.

Hoskins geared himself up and reared back slightly before Barry grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and almost pushed him away from you and Owen, yelling at him to take a walk and learn his place.

Under Owen’s ever firm grip you relaxed, still dangerously bristling at Hoskins’ idiotic words.

“I swear to yeezus, Owen, if he ever says a word to me again I will seriously-“ Owen cut you off yet again, but this time with an equally flaming kiss and massaged your lips slightly before breaking apart. You stumbled slightly backwards and he guided you against the wall, one arm firmly around your waist and the other coming up to drag a thumb across your cheekbone.

“Hm. That is a blush, isn’t it-“ You fisted his vest and sealed your lips over his, gaining control as a low moan rose out of the back of his throat.

When you broke apart for only a moment, his piercing eyes fixated on your lips and guided them back to his, a hand on your jaw and taking all but your breath away.

The soft, now escalating kiss sounds elicited a moan from your throat and he broke you apart for just a moment.

“Feisty, darlin’?“

Observant

prompt by Anonymous: “How about Bobby giving Castiel “The Speech”?? I’d pay money to see that :D”

word count: 1,436

author’s note: Once again thank you so much for that prompt, it’s been super fun :D


Bobby is a very observant man.

And perhaps his instincts ain’t that sharp than they used to be, but he can honestly tell when one of his boys is head-over-heels.

Granted, he’s never seen Dean in love before, the signs, however, are really hard to miss. The long-lasting looks (sometimes it goes on for freaking minutes!), the lack of any personal space whatsoever and the hesitant and obviously calculating touches. Bobby’s never seen his boy act like this before.

And usually he’d be glad for Dean because he’d sure as hell deserve some goddamned happiness for a change.

But of course Dean chose the most inconvenient time ever to grow some feelings.

The fucking apocalypse, Lucifer roaming free, all of Heaven searching for the brothers … it’s seriously not the most perfect time. Dean, however, never gave a damn about something like that, so it’s no surprise that he waited for the end of the world.

And naturally Dean’s object of affection turned out to be a frigging angel of the Lord.

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prompt: Post-war. Sakura ignores Sasuke.

note: i wanted a lil drama to spice things up

Sasuke knew for a fact that Sakura ignored him.

She replied to his questions begrudgingly with one word answers, barely glanced at him when he was around and did everything in her power to keep a meter’s distance from him. She wasn’t avoiding him, rather she was deliberately putting herself in his way but not paying any attention to him. She wanted him to know that she had no intention of speaking to him and even if they’d be crossing paths for the rest of their lives, she had no interest in patching things up.

Naruto and Kakashi let her go on with her antics. They did not try to incite he and Sakura to spark a conversation. In fact, Kakashi seemed to be aiding Sakura in her mission to give him the coldest shoulder he’d ever experienced. Naruto seemed hesitant about the ordeal, but he understood Sakura better than anyone else.

There wasn’t a time when Sasuke believed Sakura’s blatant disregard for him didn’t bother him. When someone tried so hard to make him notice their dislike for him, it was hard to ignore. By the seventh month, he was at his wits end.

He caught her wrist as she was walking home one night. She turned around, glanced at her wrist and looked back to him. She didn’t say a word.

“What do you want from me?” Sasuke demanded, unconsciously tightening his grip.

Sakura didn’t even flinch when she said, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“You know what I mean, Sakura,” he bit out.

“Why do you care?” She asked, her voice solidifying, booming. “Naruto said you cared, but do you? Or are you angry that something isn’t going your way, since you’re so used to it going your way?”

“You think my life went the way I wanted it to go?” He narrowed his eyes, fingers digging into her skin.

“Isn’t that why you try to control everything now, Sasuke-kun? Isn’t that why you’re confronting me now, because you thought I’d be fawning over you?” She was leaning towards him now, slowly inching forward.

It might’ve been his grip on her wrist that pulled her forward. His eyes never left hers.

“You think you have me all figured out then?” Sasuke growled, baring his teeth.

“No,” her voice turned soft, “no, I’m not sure you even have yourself figured out… but I know myself, Sasuke-kun, and I know you’re only going to hurt me.”

There was a moment of silence and a pass of something in the air. It was like they held their breaths at the same time and the world had stopped in their heads and then the gears were shifting again.

When he kissed her, she kissed him right back. He felt her meld into him, her body morphing to conform to his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips moving in sync with his. He saw white, thought blanks and felt wiped.

She moved back slowly, her breaths coming out in shallow puffs. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her eyes hooded.

“I tried my best…” Sasuke grumbled, resting his forehead on hers.

Sakura closed her eyes and sighed. “Try harder.”

I’ll Follow You

AN: Back from vacation and powering through my many, many, many unfinished drafts (there are a ton… a TON). Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Any guesses which chick-flick inspired this fic? ;)

The murmur of voices broke through Sherlock’s thoughts and he slowly withdrew from his Mind Palace. Opening his eyes, he took in the battered wall of his flat tacked over with clues from a case he hadn’t wanted to take and breathed in deep.

Ah. John and Mary.

He listened to their whispered conversation from the kitchen. He heard the name Molly drift over and his stomach clenched. It had been five weeks since that night.

The night he’d solved the Fauxriarty case. The night he burst into her flat to make sure she was safe. The night they slept together. The night he snuck away, leaving her rumpled and smiling peacefully in her sleep.

He had purposefully avoided her ever since.

‘What about Molly?’ He bit out as he strode into the kitchen. John and Mary looked up at him in surprise, then exchanged uncertain, almost guilty looks.

John heaved a breath and stood up, Mary following suit. John crossed his arms and stared Sherlock down. The army doctor was not one to beat around the bush, one of the many reasons Sherlock kept him around. But this time, the doctor’s frankness knocked Sherlock’s world off its axis.

‘Molly’s leaving.’

Sherlock froze.

‘She took a job in Edinburgh.’ By the look she was giving him, Mary knew Sherlock had done something to cause Molly’s sudden decision to leave London. ‘She leaves today.’

For the span of two heartbeats the three of them stood in an odd staring match. Then, in the blink of an eye, Sherlock spun on his heel and with an almost inhuman speed was out the door and running down the stairs.

John and Mary looked at each other in surprise (with just a hint of an ‘I told you so’ smile on Mary’s face) before they scrambled after him. They burst out into the bright mid-day sun just in time to see Sherlock commandeer a passing motorcyclist. He grabbed the helmet from the confused man and tossed something at him before revving the engine, the tyres squealing, and he shot down Baker Street.

The motorcycle-less driver gaped at his disappearing bike, holding a police badge belonging to a Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.

A laugh bubbled out of John’s mouth and he pulled Mary against his side as they stared after their friend. ‘He’d better ask me to be his best man.’


Adrenaline surged through Sherlock as he sped through the London streets toward Molly’s flat. Molly couldn’t leave. She was integral to his work. To London. To him. How could she leave?

Maybe because you bedded her then slipped away like an average scumbag. He shoved away John’s unwelcome voice. He already knew he was a pillock and what he’d done to Molly was unforgivable.

But he desperately hoped that her almost inhuman ability to forgive could extend to him again.

He swerved out of the way of a merging car, causing a chorus of horns to sound around him, which he ignored completely, focused solely on getting to Molly before she left.

He’d been hiding away, losing himself in mediocre cases, to avoid facing what he’d done. Oh, he had no regrets of the night they’d shared. And though the way he’d left was the lowest of the low, that wasn’t what made his stomach turn the most.

No. The worst thing he’d done was not tell her what she meant to him. That she was his everything.

Turning onto Grosvenor, Sherlock skidded to a stop at a light. Between the passing cars in front of him, he could see Molly standing outside her flat, hugging her landlady as a cab idled nearby. The old woman dabbed her tears and waved goodbye as Molly let the cabbie take her bag. Sherlock flipped up his visor.

‘Molly!’ He bellowed, but his voice was lost in the thrum of traffic. She slid into the back and the cab pulled away from the curb. Away from him. Sherlock revved the engine and was about to go full speed through the intersection when the horn of a double-decker brought him up just short of being clipped by the bus. When the bus passed, Molly’s cab had disappeared into the sea of cars.

The light turned and Sherlock was gone, his body low as he wove through cars. He slowed down as he came parallel to a black cab and looked in the back.

No Molly.

He sped up and circled around to the next cab. He leaned over to look in the back and found an elderly couple staring back at him in confusion.

Three more cabs and no Molly.

He was getting panicked now, which only made him that much more determined to find her.

A cab several cars ahead turned right and he caught a glimpse of a familiar head of brown hair in the back.

Molly!

Pushing the bike to its limit, Sherlock sped through a light and took the corner hard, his knee almost grazing the ground.

Among the London traffic on this street was a single black cab.

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat. Quickly, he caught up to the cab and came alongside it. Flipping up his visor, he saw Molly looking out the opposite window.

‘Molly!’ He shouted, banging his fist on the window. She jumped and turned to him with wide eyes.

‘Sherlock?’ She mouthed, scooting over and rolling the window down. The wind whipped her hair around her furious and confused face. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

‘We need to talk!’ He glanced back at the road then back at her. ‘Pull over!’

‘Are you insane?!’

‘Pull over!’

Gaping at him for a moment, Molly finally leaned forward and asked the poor, confused cabbie to pull over. They slowed to a stop and Sherlock kicked the stand down on the bike, pulling his helmet off and tossing it aside as Molly jumped out of the back and slammed the door shut behind her.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could have been killed!’ Her eyes flashed dangerously and he had a sudden flashback to the Slapping Incident. The sun overhead illuminated the red-gold highlights in her hair and he swore for a moment she looked like an avenging angel.

Sherlock swung his leg over the bike and strode over to her, ignoring her gesticulating hands.

‘-no longer your pathologist, so find yourself someone else to manipul-mmmpfff!’

He cut her off with his lips, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other around her waist. Her arms windmilled and she stiffened in surprise. He persisted, his heart pounding in anxious anticipation. Finally, she relaxed and her lips moved against his, turning a desperate kiss into a passionate snog. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she leaned up on her toes, curling her body into his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

The cabbie’s honk broke them apart, breathless and panting.

‘Molly, I…’ He tried not to, but the tinge of desperation in his voice came through clear. He rested his forehead against hers. Her breath caressed his neck and he shivered.

‘What… are you… doing?’ She huffed and moved her hands down to his chest, punching him lightly over his pounding heart. Pulling back, she looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips reddened and swollen (not altogether unappealing, though he knew he could do better). He reached up and cupped her cheek, ignoring the grumbling cabbie watching them in distaste.

‘Trying to convince you to stay.’

Hurt and anger flashed across her face and he rushed on.

‘Stay here… with me.’

She looked at him dubiously.

‘I’ve been an idiot,’ he admitted. ‘I am sorry for leaving you that morning. I was a coward and all I can do is beg you to forgive me and give me another chance.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I won’t screw it up this time. Because I love you. So much. Please, Molly. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.’

Tears filled her eyes and he felt his thundering heart plunge into his stomach. Then her lips turned up in a wobbly smile. ‘Sherlock Holmes… begging.’ Her eyes twinkled. 

An answering smile crossed Sherlock’s face and his heart suddenly felt as light as air. ‘Only for you, Molly.’

Lifting herself onto her tip toes, she wrapped her hands around his neck and tugged him down for a sweet, brief kiss. ‘I love you, too. My genius idiot.’

He was just about to steal another kiss when the gruff voice of the cabbie stopped him. ‘What you wan’ do, lady? I can’t waste all day waiting for your lad to get a leg over!’

Molly blushed bright red and the sight of it distracted Sherlock from snapping a reply. Instead, without breaking his gaze from Molly, he reached into his pocket and tossed the man a badge and wallet he’d nicked from Dimmock. ‘Take the lady’s belongings to 221b Baker Street.’ Molly’s eyes widened. ‘She has other means of transportation.’

With a mumbled curse, the cabbie got back in his car and pulled away. Sherlock took Molly’s hand and tugged her toward the bike. He swiped the discarded helmet from the ground and put it on, handing the spare from the back to her with a raised eyebrow.

Grinning madly, she slipped it on and swung onto the bike behind him. He kicked up the stand and turned the motor on.

‘Hold on tight,’ he called, revving the engine. Her arms slid around his waist and he felt warm all over at the press of her front against the length of his back.

‘Always,’ she promised.

With a wide grin, Sherlock pushed off the ground and leaned forward, merging into traffic.

captainkaltar  asked:

Eruri, 9, 4, and/or 1 for the ficlet thing! (You get to choose which number, or write all three of them if you like) ^.^

okay, eruri # 1. can i kiss you?

in which erwin gets caught up in a party game and realizes something about himself he’s not exactly ready to deal with. 

read on ao3, if you like!

written to this track

The room was full of laughter. Or at least, Erwin thought it was laughter, or maybe it was screaming, or maybe it was both laughter and screaming at the same time. All the sound felt sucked from the room, as if someone had put a vacuum to the place, sucking out the hot air and the smell of liquor and the taste of pizza and the droplets of sweat from their lean teenaged bodies, and the cigarette smoke, and the smoke from other things that weren’t cigarettes and felt better than cigarettes, too. All that was left was the slow revolving beer bottle in the center of the floor, and a massive hand which clapped against his shoulder with the force of a wrecking ball. It was Mike’s hand, probably, but he couldn’t move his eyes off the bottle long enough to be sure. The neck of it moved like a snake in the grass, swooping past everyone in their circle so achingly slow that it seemed dubious whether the thing would ever stop at all.

He peeked at each face as the bottle rolled past, noting in particular the way that Hange’s maniacal grin narrowed their brown eyes almost to slits, Nile’s unenthusiastic scowl, and the wide, hazel eyes which belonged to Marie, who was his girlfriend, and liked kissing him more than he thought was normal or healthy for someone their age–or anyone, ever, living or dead, if he was being honest with himself. He settled on her, finally, taking in the rivers of tulle that poofed around her small body and his baseball cap, which she’d jammed on her head and wore backwards in a way that he thought he should probably find cute but which only succeeded in making him extremely nervous.

The bottle ground to a halt. Erwin let loose the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, combing a hand through the thick waves of blonde hair on top of his head. He met gray eyes with his blue ones. They looked at eachother thoughtfully, examining one another as if they’d only just met. Levi was wearing one of those tank tops, the kind with the sides cut low so that Erwin could see his taut, golden chest beneath. He was lying leisurely on his side, nursing a bottle of Magic Hat in one hand, with the other jammed under his chin to prop him up. Erwin noticed, not for the first time, how nice Levi’s lips were. His mouth was full and pink, lips always slightly wet, and slightly parted. Waiting.

Hange’s crooning shattered the moment, drawing Erwin’s attention back to the circle, to the room, to the bottle.

“Oooo. Errrr-vinnnnnn.”

He swallowed, managing a boyish smile as his eyes swept their circle again. Mike’s hand had dropped from his shoulder, replaced by encouraging nudges in the direction of the bottle’s neck. Marie looked slightly crestfallen, but was playing the good sport. Nile seemed even less interested than before, leaning back on his palms to watch the whole scene with an irked expression on his face. Hange was rocking on their knees, pointing rudely in the direction the bottle had landed, egging him on.

He shrugged a shoulder, playing it cool as he rolled forward onto his knees and stretched, the movement lifting the hem of his white tee-shirt to reveal several inches of his flat, pale stomach. He beckoned with a long finger, trying not to seem too phased by any of it. The last thing he needed was for a bunch of rumors to go flying around school. For anyone to say that Erwin Smith was too chicken shit to give someone a meaningless little kiss.

Their lips touched in a quick peck, and he found himself agreeing with Mike, that Nanaba was extremely fruity. Her lips tasted like pomegranate chapstick, and she smelled like apples. She deepened their kiss before he could pull away, earning several whoops and hollers from their voyeurs. It was over as fast as it began, with Nanaba settling back against Mike’s knee with a smirk on her face, and Erwin dropping back onto his ass, face flushed and eyes searching desperately again for those gray ones he’d locked on before. Levi wasn’t looking at him, though. Levi had peeled himself off the floor, and was heading up the basement stairs. Erwin’s felt his heart sink with disappointment, although he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Later, on the Zacharias’s old plaid sofa, Erwin lay awake, Marie’s small body tucked under his arm. He could smell her shampoo, and the soured sweetness of alcohol on her breath. She fit perfectly against his side, but when he tried to imagine them lying there from an outsider’s perspective, he drew a blank. He shifted, mind still flickering back to gray eyes. A bottle of Magic Hat.

Carefully, he peeled himself away from Marie, heart warmed by the sleepy sound of disagreement she made. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he told himself. No, it wasn’t that at all. Marie was funny, and smart, and weird, and cool. But he couldn’t picture them together, not for a second. He wasn’t even sure they’d ever had a picture taken. Or maybe he’d just avoided looking at them.

The Zacharias’s front door creaked as he pulled it open, the warm August air hitting him like an embrace. He wandered out onto their wrap-around porch, plopping onto the steps and looking out at the empty street of the cul-de-sac. The street lights looked like jewels, glittering against the inky blackness of the night sky. He sighed, leaning his chin on his knees. He tried to remember the last time he’d felt normal, or comfortable, or completely at ease. Maybe it had been before Christmas, before Levi had come over to his house one night, drunk as sin, and begged to sleep in his bed. Maybe it had been in September, before their home room teacher had paired him and Levi together on a year-long assignment that meant they spent at least one afternoon a week in each other’s company, unadulterated. If Erwin thought hard enough, though, he’d guess it was sometime last year, before the Ackerman’s had arrived in their small, uneventful neighborhood with their moving truck full of things and their son, whose gray eyes had taken up prime real estate in Erwin’s head.

He heard the screen door slam shut behind him, and bristled. He didn’t much feel like talking to anyone, especially not Marie, and he almost told her so, except that he was interrupted by a different voice, not at all unfamiliar or unwelcome.

“Can’t sleep?”

Erwin could feel weight shifting on the porch, looking up only when Levi had slid down into a sitting position beside him on the step. He was golden and sheathed in a layer of sweat, his tank top billowing open in the light breeze. Erwin thought he might pass out.

“I–not really.”

“Too much kissing, probably.”

The space between them might as well have been galaxies, for all the difference an inch made. Erwin rocked, racking at his brain for something intelligent or interesting to say, and finding nothing. He never knew what to say when it came to Levi. He was always so off-balance, off-kilter, off the charts. He shrugged instead, twisting his hands in front of his legs and drawing them closer to his chest.

“You’re used to kissing though, I bet. You and Marie,” Levi tried again, his voice tinged with something frustratingly like amusement. Erwin slunk down where he sat, his cheeks coloring bright red, although he was sure Levi couldn’t see it on him.

“It’s not me, it’s her,” he found himself saying, confoundingly defensive. Levi’s full lips split into a grin, and Erwin wanted to disappear. To become something else, some sort of anti-matter, and drift off into open space.

“You can relax. It’s just me, you know. I don’t really care if you like kissing girls–I mean, your girlfriend, or not.”

Erwin blinked, dumbfounded. He thought he must have looked as shocked as he felt, because that lazy grin was back, and Levi was sitting closer than before, gray eyes glinting like a cat that got the mouse. He could smell beer and cigarettes on his breath, and wondered if he smelled the same. Worse, probably. He’d finished half the handle by himself before everyone had knocked out. Maybe that was why he couldn’t take his eyes off Levi or his mouth. Those parted lips. Waiting.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words came out in a rush, as if someone else had said them, recorded them, and then played them back through his mouth at an earsplitting speed. They smooshed together lazily, sloppily. That’s how Levi made him feel. Lazy, and sloppy. Awkward. But now he’d said it, and when Levi made sense of it, he’d have to apologize, to think of something to explain himself. Maybe it wasn’t too late to convince his parents to homeschool him, or move him to a different town, or maybe post-partum abort him–

A soft pressure on his lips yanked him out of his spiral. Levi had leaned forward, placed small, tactile hands on his shoulders. Those full, parted lips had parted again, this time against his own. The taste was musky, boyish, woody. Like tea leaves.

Levi pulled away before Erwin could deepen it. They sat in silence, neither of them looking at one another. He could feel every inch of space between them, buzzing and ringing and tingling like a shock to the heart. Erwin swallowed the knot in his throat as Levi’s hand pressed gently over his, scooping up his long, bony fingers like marbles. Together, they looked out at the streetlights, lips parted. Waiting. 


For the moment, it was enough.

Has Anyone Else Come Back?

I noticed things were just a little off when I woke up this morning.

I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was that was wrong… it’s just that something didn’t seem right. I woke up and the room was… stuffy. This was strange because I typically sleep with the window open. My wife likes it better that way, and I’d slowly gotten used to it over the past seven years.

Otherwise, the room was exactly how we’d left it. Neither of us are neat freaks, so our room was… less than immaculate. Our clothes were collectively strewn across the floor. The bathroom looked as though a bomb made out of shaving supplies and make-up exploded, with the rubble then promptly thrown about by a tornado. As I made my way to that particular disaster zone, I tripped dramatically over piles of magazines and books.

Yeah… we really had to clean.

I still couldn’t shake off that weird feeling as I entered the bathroom. My wife must have gotten up much earlier because the sink was bone-dry, as was the shower. She’s a night owl, so this was new. I tried to dismiss it as I looked into the mirror.

Wow, okay, I’ve definitely looked better. My face was positively drained of color. There was crust around my lips and my eyes. I had more than stubble, I was working my way up to a full-grown beard. My eyes were blood-shot and ragged. I looked sick. Like, really, really sick.

Keep reading

Third final list and a story!

1. Block us antis and then wail about our posts because they still stalk our blogs.

Not only that but they reblog their friends with angry profanity (while claiming to not be mad. Lulz) rather than you directly so you won’t call them out in their abundance of butthurt.

“Orgs” “bitch” and “little shit” are quite common of the self proclaimed BFNs in the fandumb section if this ship.

2. Are ignorant of their own history.

Just from experience as a former Rugo ( I still kick my own ass for having been one) over 7 years ago, Ichiruki would refer to themselves as:

Rugos
RukiIchi
RukiGos

Believe me, its actually a compliment to be called one but if they whine about it being insulting they look like an ignorant rookies, thus losing the ‘Rugo’ title and going to straight up 'Batshit Fail Rugo’

( as if they are fail at trying to look like they know everything about their ship when they are wannabe BFNs that can’t measure up to the veterans in their fandom)

Unfortunately the true Rugos are no longer present in Bleach shipping leaving behind these infantile failures attempting to copy them.

See I’m quite nice for an anti. :)

3. They still don’t understand why people dislike them personally…

Most antis could actually care less about your ship and its canon or lack thereof. Most of us simply don’t like your shitty online behaviour that you call shipping.

If you say your piece, fine; but going to anti tags, blogs, other shipping tags, calling people that dont ship it stupid or delusional, and bitching 24/7 about a different ship or character in your own shippy places is what we look down upon.

I PROMISED STORY TIME!

Not everyone knows why I dislike the fandumb section of IR.

Well… This is a Star Wars moment, but I was an IR. I had a different penname, memberships at shippy sites and had even written fanfics in an old account.

I used to really adore my ship. I mean, everyone was nice and we didn’t talk out of turn in places that weren’t for our ship. We contributed greatly and read the manga and all had our own interprations of what was happening in the storyline.

Hell, we were pretty calm and could actually be coherent and reasonable when talking of all Bleach characters.

Back in those good old days, ichihime was seen as a crackship, so there was no hate towards Orihime or the pairing at all.

And if there was, we brushed it off because it was very rare for someone of our ship to bring any other ships into discussion.

Such was the confidence of IR back then.

All of that changed when FLOL scene happened. I’ll admit I was shocked, but I quickly brushed it off because we never cared enough for the pairing to even talk about it.

At least that was what I’d mistakenly assumed.

The next day, after all of Bleach fandom had read that chapter from their computers, the IR FC became like an anti IH or anti-Orihime FC.

Jesus effing Christ, I wanted to talk about my ship, not see people wanking about something I didn’t ship in our freaking FC of all damn places!

The so-called crackship we had ignored suddenly became something 'serious’ and debatable for the first IRs .

Over the following months all they could talk about was IH and Orihime. I was even scared of having a conversation with them because I knew that 90% of the time they would start up again.

How could you ship while talking constantly of another pairing?

All translations and interpretations of the manga became downright ridiculous. As if IR was desperately seeking more proof of a ship they had before once claimed to be canon without arguments or essays.

They seemed far too defensive and after the defensiveness came the self-righteous anger.

I could still recall seeing them having little lols while publically planning on going to the tiny IH FC to rub their canon all over their faces.

I did call them out in the bullshit, because I just wanted to ship, and what did they do…?

They humiliated me. I was amongst one of the first IRs to call them out on it and I wasn’t the last either. Plenty of other IRs were accused of being Origo or “fake” for not wanting to waste our time on that other ship.

And let me tell you something, back then ichiruki dominated Bleach fandom more than now. Easily 85% of the manga/anime fan base was IR, while the rest were either neutral, crack or yaoi and yuri.

What happened after this started…? The IR fandom split. That’s why there’s so much diversification now and looks like Bleach fandom is gigantic.

A lot of IRs left. Some simply disassociated themselves from their wanky friends and started their own FCs with strict “only talk of Ichiruki” rules that if they were broken could result in an unapologetic ban. Others started liking other ships.

I was a bit of everything. I tried to hold on, but my ship was tinged with so much negativity that it caused me nausea. I knew the hateful artists that drew my fave fanarts. I knew the trolling fanfic writers of my fave fics. I knew the meaness of the supposedly nice IRs that gushed over my stories.

So I gave up. Yep! I deleted my fanfic account with all sixteen stories. I asked the Admins at general sites to get me off their member lists, I changed my email only letting two IRs know of me. (One left and became a Wincest fangirl while the other still loves IR but doesn’t associate with any of them and simply enjoys her ship).

After cleaning the slate I remained idle. I went to my old fandom’s and talked to old friends… Then when I came back to Bleach fandom I saw new batshitting faces attempting to recreate yet another devide.

I mean it when I say more and more IRs are fed up with the bullshit. You ignore them when they say it or attack them… But all you’re doing is creating another anti that knows you better than anyone else.

As a former IR I know what makes you have a complex. You may lol to hide it, but your ilk does indeed display insecurity in your wank. That’s why there’s so many 'biased’ sites that appear to be bashing you personally.

And as a former IR, I know exactly how to make you snap. In fact I’ve made quite a number of you write lenghtly insults towards me, proving the anti theory number one …

IRs are sensitive and so wanky because they deeply know they aren’t canon. XD

Stew on that before wanking next time. All other fandom’s know of your epic sensitivity, so don’t complain at having your attitude put on display and even reflected back at you in a confrontation, kay?

Purple

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, making the small berries explode all at once. It was sweet and sour and I let the juice slowly slide down my throat in a delicious tickle. I then chewed the pulp up as best I could though I knew that a lot of it would end up lodged in my teeth. I checked my compact mirror to see if there was any major roughage visible in the front and when I happily saw that there was not, I impulsively stuck out my tongue and was delighted to find it a lovely shade of aubergine.

I needed to get back down the mountain. The sky didn’t look that threatening but I could feel the wind picking up from what began as a completely still day. My hair blew into my eyes and as I tried to tuck it behind my ears I felt a tinge of dread about the sudden shift in weather. I grabbed one more handful of blueberries and began to carefully pick my way down the rocky trail.

I descended quickly, much faster than my leisurely climb up.  I saw the clouds begin to race across the sky, chasing each other like children playing tag. I felt the first drops fall fat and heavy, one by one. Then my shadow completely disappeared and I was surrounded by the thick grey of a summer afternoon storm. The rain saturated my hair and clothing in a few short minutes and when I realized that my fate was to be sodden I tipped my head back and let the water stream down my face and directly into my purple stained mouth.

.