i'm just trying to be happier with my face

anonymous asked:

Bro actually imagine actual yoongi in his flesh, looking up recipes on his phone while hunched over the stove, because jimin isn't eating well so he takes it into his own hands to actually cook a meal for him. Imagine him getting too embarrassed to tell jm that he actually cooked the food, imagine jm really enjoying it and complimenting it only for yg to nonchalantly admit that ''yeah, guess I cooked it idk'' n jm's face lighting up because he knows that yg cooked it n he couldn't be happier ,,,

this really would be yoongi trying to hide the fact that he made it yet feeling very smug about the fact that jimin is eating well and apparently really likes it,,,, ,,

bonus: jimin insists on watching / helping yoongi out the next time he cooks him dinner so:

anonymous asked:

i just wanted to let you know that you've inspired me a lot. i used to get criticism and would internalize it and try to keep a happy face because that's what everyone always told me and it just built up but then i found you. and now i realize that its okay to not be thrilled when people say negative things about my work. it's okay to have my feelings hurt. you've inspired me to accept that criticism hurts and then keep writing anyway. i'm a lot happier now and i thank you for that. 💚

Even constructive criticism delivered at the hands of someone in your writer’s circle is going to sting. But there is a tremendous difference between the sting of feedback delivered from someone who you know and who you know has the best interests of your story at heart and anonymous hate delivered through guest reviews.

Just because something is critical doesn’t mean that it is constructive.

Anything intended to tear down, insult, or belittle is by its very nature not constructive. If the goal of the critiquer is to show off how smart she is, the goal is not constructive to the writer.

Words damage.

Words leave lasting scars.

We’re writers. We know the power of the well-delivered cutting put down in our very marrow.

You know, it’s hard to learn how to analyze and critique. It’s a skill just as difficult to master as writing, maybe more so. A good developmental editor is a gem to be treasured.

On good days, when I get the comments that a story is cliched, or trite, or absurd and obnoxious (all received in the last 24 hours about 3 different things, so not a random sampling of reviews) I tell myself that this anonymous guest is still learning the craft of critique and, much as my early writing efforts were abysmal, so are their early critique efforts. I tell myself they will get better in time, learn how to see weaknesses in a story and communicate to the writer about them in a way that doesn’t beat the writer down.

On bad days, I just think they’re assholes and would-be bullies.

It’s okay to have your feelings hurt when some jerk insults you. All critique is not created equal, and most of the negative stuff you’ll find on fanfic isn’t constructive in the slightest. It’s just mean. And mean people suck.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Coming home.

Requested by anon: Marc Bartra imagine where he comes home after being away for a long time, with some drama. (It’s a little short, i’m sorry)

‘Foot up, my foot up. Hold up now my foot up.’ I sing along with song on the tv, while i’m painting my toenails. When i’m done, i put the nailspolish on the table in front of the couch and lean back, smiling. I’ve been smiling all week long. At college, at work, at home in the night before i fall asleep. I’m smiling because tonight, after 3 months, my boyfriend Marc is finally coming home. Even though it’s only for a couple weeks. The thought of him holding me at night, whispering sweet things in my ear again, makes my head spin in excitement. I never thought i’d find the love of my life at only 19 years old, but i have. He’s a famous football player and i’m a college student. My smile fades away when i think about what will happen after these 3 or 4 weeks. He will only be a 2 hour flight away, but i don’t have the time or money to visit him as often as i want to. He sometimes suprises me by randomly buying me a ticket to come to him, but i don’t like it when he spends money on me. There’s enough gossip going around about me being a golddigger anyway, which is ridiculous but oh well. It’s all the bagage that comes with having a famous boyfriend. Football is his life, and whatever makes him happy, makes me happy too. The same way he never pushed me to drop out of college to travel with him wherever he goes, because he knows i wanna be able to take care of myself when i need to. I don’t want to rely on anyone else, financially. My thoughts are rudely disturbed by the buzzing of my phone, and i’m annoyed until i see Marc’s face on my homescreen. I pick up smiling.
'Hey!’ I say, my voice full with enthusiasm.
'Hey, listen something happened and i only have 10 percent battery left but i won’t be able to be home tonight..’
'Oh..’ I simply say.
'I’m sorry baby, the flight is delayed, and there are a lot of fans at the airport, so they arranged for us to stay another two days here.’ He says, not really making me any happier.
'It’s okay.’ I say, trying not to cry on the phone.
'It’s not your fault.. i just miss you.’ I say. My voice sounds sad and dissapointed, unlike his which sounds agitated and hurried.
'I know i’m so sorry, i’ll make it up to you, i promise.’ And with those words he hangs up on me. Ten percent battery left and i don’t even get a goodbye?
'Fuck.’ I swear, throwing my phone away from me. I wipe the tears away, and walk over to the kitchen, pouring myself something to drink. I hate dissapointments, but i’m not sure what it is i’m dissapointed in. The fact that he will be away for another two days, or the way he didn’t even sound sad himself. Did it become easy for him to stay away from me? I bite my lip, thinking about our first weeks together. We couldn’t go a minute without each other, and now he can easily go two days without me. I know i sound psychotic and needy, but i miss him so much it makes my head hurt. In two days it will be monday, which means i will be at school by the time he arrives. Everything just keeps getting worse. I decide to take a shower and go to bed, trying to sleep the sadness away. I end up on my phone, reading my timeline on twitter, when suddenly i hear sounds from downstairs. I sit up immediately trying to figure out if i actually heard it right, or if i’m going crazy. But then i hear some shuffling, and i jump out of bed, putting my robe on. Why do i sleep in only my underwears again? I hastily grab the lamp from my nightstand, and start walking towards the door. I wait, and hold my breath when i hear someone running up the stairs. Shit, there’s a fucking robbery going on in my house and i picked up a lamp to defend myself. I’m ready to smash the person’s face in, but when the door opens and my eyes meet Marc’s blue ones i’m suprised. His eyes widen when he sees the state i’m in. My hair messy, no make up, in only a robe, holding a lamp in my hand. I drop the lamp, and run towards him. He smiles, and puts his arms around me lifting me up.
'You son of a bitch! I almost killed you.’ I say, trying to fight against the tears forming in my eyes.
'Really Y/N? With a lamp?’ He laughs, and as soon as he puts me down i swat his arm.
'Why are you here?! Don’t tell me it was a joke because i will reconsider killing you with the lamp.’ I say, hugging him again.
'Baby, i just wanted to suprise you.. Spice up some things.’ I raise my eyebrow at him, really?
'If you wanna spice up our relationship, come home early for a change. I did not like this at all!’ He laughs and kisses my temple.
'Well maybe i just wanted to see you when you didn’t get ready for hours. Maybe..’ He says, putting his arm around my waist.
'I wanted to see you like this. You in your rawest state, when you haven’t tried to make yourself look prettier for me.’ He bites his lip, eyeing my body. I feel myself blushing, and step away from him a little. He cocks his head to one side, and grins.
'You know what i like about you?’ He says, taking off his jacket.
'After we’ve been together for so long, and after i’ve seeing you naked so many times, you still get so shy when i look at you this way.’ He puts one of his hands behind my neck, and one around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Our lips connect, after what feels like years, and suddenly we are in a heated make out session. He’s the one to pull back first, and i gasp for air. I need him, as much as he needs me. I quickly pull my robe off and throw it away, before i reach for the hem of his shirt. He grins, and lets me take it off for him.
'Eager aren’t we?’ He says, and i gulp. His voice is a full octave deeper, and the lust in his eyes turns my legs into mush. I take his hand and kiss the palm, then his shoulder, and last but not least, his neck. He groans, and pulls me even closer to him to kiss me again. I pull him back with me, which causes us to fall on the bed.
'I thought you were mad at me baby girl.’ He chuckles, and i growl.
'Yes, but you’re too sexy to resist.’ We both laugh, before he kisses me again.

'Marc..’ I whisper, shaking his shoulder a little. He groans, and turns away from me.
'Babe, i made you breakfast.’ I say, trying to ignore the scratch marks i left on his back.
'What?’ He says and turns back around to me. His voice is raspy, his hair is messy and he is wearing absolutely nothing. This is the best way to start my day.
'Goodmorning beautiful.’ He says, and sits up. He takes a corissant, and takes a bite of it.We just sit there and grin at each other. Last night was amazing. We were both high off each other, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He reaches his hand towards me and i take it, letting him pull me to lay against him. I hear his heartbeat, and i close my eyes.
'I love you.’ He says, and i nuzzle my face in his chest.
'I love you.’ I say back to him, tracing his abs with my finger. I don’t care how sad he made me with his 'joke,’ or how much time he spends away from me, because moments like these make it all worthwile.