in media this is called framing

the media out here trying to frame the people fighting literal nazis as basically nazis themselves. even going as far as to give us SIMILAR FUCKING NAMES AS OUR OPPRESSORS? JESUS CHRIST. [calling antifas the alt-left]

you can tell what fucking side they’re on, they uphold nazism, that’s why they’re always on the side of the nazis. They don’t care about justice. They don’t care about what is moral and good. They care about white supremacy.

why are they always reporting on how good and clean cut literal nazis look? white supremacy. why are they always reporting on how calm and down-home nazi families are? white supremacy. why do they refuse to call literal nazis out as nazis? white supremacy.

why are they always framing antifas as the violent reactionaries who have no reason to be upset? white supremacy. why are they always framing antifas as ignorant unclean and inhuman? white supremacy. Why are they always framing antifas as against helping people? white supremacy.

It’s transparent.

For once, I actually saw goldfish being properly taken care of in media! 

Generally on TV shows and in books and movies, goldfish are shown in bowls, which causes people to believe that is how they should be kept in real life, but in this anime the goldfish are shown in a large tank (it’s even bigger than shown in the picture since not all of it is in frame)! Finally! 

(The anime is called Interviews with Monster Girls, by the way and it’s available on Crunchyroll. The title sounds weird but its a really nice anime.)

anonymous asked:

fanart isn't real art

Hey nonny! 

Firstly, you are mistaken. 

Secondly, you are a bit of an ass. 

but let’s use those debating skills of mine and rebut your unfounded statement: 

evidence piece number 1: Definition via Wikipedia. 

Hm… “Fan art or fanart are artworks created by fans of a work of fiction (…)”

Yes? Make sense? Well, moving on. 

Now: there’s been a lot of art in history. Agreed? Well, then. let’s look at that. 

evidence piece number 2: screenshot of google (ignore the obscene amount of pinned tabs, I’m a hoarder)

Ok great so let’s examine that. You see the tab that’s open? What did I search? ‘Art Renaissance’ Yes? Well, let’s look at those pics. the first pic shows the ‘agony of the garden’ which refers to an event of the life of Jesus in the New Testament. Huh I’ve heard of the New Testament - it’s a book right? Well, let’s keep looking at those pics. See that pic on the far right - top row? Now I can’t be 100% sure, but that kinda seems to show Maria and Jesus? Yeah? Well, guess what, that’s from the New Testament too. Wild, right? That not only one artwork from the Renaissance has a religious theme… but TWO?!?! WIld. 

The last row? Yeah. That’s all Christian art too. Huh. Wow. I can’t believe that many artists created art based on the Bible. Crazy. 

So, moving on to somewhat more modern art: 

evidence piece number 3: 

So this dude is pretty cool right? This is art? We are in agreement, yes? This is art. Well, buckle up, anon, cos I’m about to shake your world. 

That was created towards the end of the 19th century, by Sidney Paget. And guess where that artwork is featured? Guess who the dude is in the pic? Well, that’s our very own Sherlock Holmes! lmao and guess what? Sherlock Holmes is a character in a book! *gasp* Did I shake your world yet?

Well, then, let’s move to an even more modern example: 

I guess you know who this is? 

I mean, I could be mistaken, but I think I remember there being books to this movie? Eh, might be my imagination. Well, then, let’s look at some art that was done inspired by this character…

Oh wow! Beautiful isn’t it? This is by the legendary artist @euclase

Now let’s assume that you didn’t know Harry Potter and that you didn’t know that there were books and movies about him, would you agree that this is art? Let’s be honest: you would. 

Let’s look at the quote again, nonny: Fan art or fanart are artworks created by fans of a work of fiction (generally visual media such as comics, movies, television shows, or video games) and derived from a character or other aspect of that work.” 

So theoretically, if we go down that path, all types of drawings, art, pictures, photography etc. are all forms of art, and are all fanart in a way. Have you seen the Hunger Games? Or… do you watch a tv show like Sherlock? Well, y’know, movies are just a series of frames of photography, making that, in essence also art. and considering both of those examples are stories based on books, I’d call them fanart too. 

So, next time you go sending people anonymous messages about how fanart isn’t art, think twice, cos we artists - we’re a tough bunch. 

Also, you’re an asshole - did I already mention that? 

anonymous asked:

I know you don't partake in watching vet shows, but how do they affect how people view you as a veterinarian, and how do they affect young people who want to become future veterinarians? Do you have a lot of clients come in with a certain expectation of you because they watched said veterinarian show?

I don’t think veterinarian media is all that widely consumed. Certainly the most common veterinarian narrative in the media seems to be ‘veterinarians are ripping you off’, which is extraordinarily frustrating when I see so many cases that could have been fixed cheaply if I saw them early, instead of leaving them to worsen.

The sort of narratives that people are expecting when they come to the clinic, almost tropes really, seem to be these:

  • Money is no object. That we will somehow bend the rules and treat for free.
  • Male vet = Dream catch (at any age mind you! 70 year olds are not out of the game.)
  • So you have a CT scanner here, right?
  • But you’re also still all like James Herriot, old school and folksy.
  • It must be a fun job, playing with puppies and kittens all day
  • That the vet is your friend because you see him once a year and he will do you favors
  • That everything will be dropped immediately to see their patient.

But at the same time they are expecting the ‘vets are expensive’ angle, which means just about anything I suggest over $20 will be framed in their mind as ‘expensive’ instead of ‘good value’.

Future veterinarians get fed this glossy and polished version of veterinary medicine in the media. You either see all good stuff or ‘heartbreaking’ content that still frames the veterinarian as kind hearted and passionate. You tend not to see the gallows humor, the depression and mental health, the morbid fascination with pathology or the cruelty and neglect humans are capable of.

When cruelty is presented in media it’s usually distant. It’s framed as “This horrible person did X but we’ve rescued the animal now and here’s its recovery,” but in veterinary medicine you’re often face to face with the person, trying to convince them to do what needs to be done.

So veterinarian media tends not to discuss our mental health, the undesirable behavior of the general public or how morbid it can be. It paints veterinarians as dedicated, passionate and selfless but at the same time media will often call us greedy, scam artists and money hungry. So we get stuck in this dichotomy and often become afraid to value our work fairly or ask for money for fear of being one of the ‘bad’ vets.

You tend not to see the grit, you only see the polish. That’s true to a large extent even with this blog, though I’ve tried to not censor my feelings or emotions about assorted topics. You don’t get to see everything that I feel and think, but you do get to see that I’m a human, not a character.

Interesting from my point of view, when I do show too much negative emotions, I get ‘called out’ about it. This is annoying because on the one hand I feel what I feel, and if I’m angry I don’t think it’s fair that I should have to hide, but at the same time it’s not what’s expected from the veterinarian narrative, even on Tumblr. So I tend to keep more of a lid on things.

If I can accomplish only one thing with this blog, it would be to add to the veterinarian narrative, so that we’re seen more as people and less as some sort of animal loving martyr.

anonymous asked:

hi! so you said youre chinese and since majority of the yoi fandom said that yoi gave people a good representation with all the characters from different countries, did you feel that way too?

Hi anon! The short answer to your question is no. But honestly what does good representation mean these days? If I make a comic featuring characters who are from all over the world but base them each on a specific character archetype and give them minimal character development, is that good representation? Because that’s what yoi did as far as I’m concerned, especially in regards to Guang Hong, who I suppose is the one you’re asking about specifically since he’s the “Chinese skater”. Imo his character is pretty one-note and boring, and frankly he gets so little screen time that most of the time I forget he exists. 

(Sidenote: There was a post floating around that talked about how “revolutionary” Guang Hong is for China’s gender roles (ah here it is) which just made me really confused because he’s honestly…not, and I explain more about why he isn’t in this reply.) 

I guess my stance on this is similar to my stance on other yoi-related questions, which is that if you think yoi is really diverse representation and you think it represents you, then good for you. But it’s hardly new when we’ve already had anime like, Tiger and Bunny, Shaman King, Afro Samurai, Uchuu Kyoudai, Samurai Champloo, and Fullmetal Alchemist, which also feature “diverse” characters and, in some cases, gives them better character development than yoi does. 

Edit: Also… “representation” in anime/manga is such a complicated topic because once again, my brain goes into “how Japanese ppl see it” vs. “how non-Japanese anime fans see it”, because tbh I don’t consume anime/manga looking for Chinese representation. Even when there are Chinese characters my brain rarely registers them because they’re, as I call them, “Chinese within a Japanese frame of mind”. The only exceptions have been characters like Ling Yao in FMA, but honestly FMA’s special and Arakawa Hiromu is a genius who actually understands systems of racial/ethnic suppression. Btw did you know that the Ishvalan conflict is based on the oppression of the Ainu people? No, well now you know. Which also leads me to my next point; I’m personally more interested in the representation of Ainu, Ryukuan, Burakumin, mixed-race and mixed-ethnicity Japanese, and non-white foreign Japanese nationals/immigrants in Japanese media, because these are groups that exist in Japan that don’t get a lot of representation. 

Edit #2: Additionally, I’m interested in how certain groups are represented in certain contexts within Japanese historical non-fiction and fictional works. So when looking at Chinese representation in Japanese media, I’d be looking at let’s say Chinese-Japanese representation in Japanese settings or Chinese representation in works covering Japanese imperialism in China, or the representation of Chinese-Americans in Japanese works taking place in the US (eg. Banana Fish).

Edit #3: Arghhh I keep thinking of things to add to this answer. I guess what I’m trying to say is that yoi representation doesn’t interest me, but the way that that representation is received does. Even though tumblr ppl saying “omg it’s so diverse” about yoi makes me raise my eyebrows really really high, it does also make me think about the implications of non-Japanese ppl trying to find representation in anime/manga. 

So much of the media discussion of Trump’s Muslim ban, both in US and international media, centers around issues of terrorism: offering statistics about the infinitesimal number of refugees who are involved in terrorist activity, and decrying the ban as something that’s likely to increase the numbers of people joining ISIS and other terrorist organizations. And all of that is true, and it’s important to call out Trump’s false claims. But here’s the thing. I think most of the media is missing the actual point of the Muslim ban.

It’s not about terrorism. It never has been. By allowing the narrative to be framed that way, even in our critiques of Trump, we’re conceding a vital point. We’re buying in to the narrative that this is about terrorism, and that we’re simply debating the proper response to it. It paints a picture in which protestors and liberal media outlets are unhappy with Trump’s response to the issue.

But that’s not it at all.

The truth is we’ve seen this before. A ban on people entering the country, based on religion and / or ethnicity, is the first step. Next will come the Muslim registry. There will be a quiet purging of all Muslim employees from government jobs. Persons listed in the Muslim registry will be monitored by police “for the protection of the public.” Discrimination in hiring practices in private companies will become first legal, then actively encouraged. Muslims will be first encouraged, then coerced, and finally forced to move into segregated areas, or perhaps into protected camps or detainment facilities. People will start disappearing.

That’s what this is about. The ban is about taking that first step. Talking about terrorism only serves to lend legitimacy to Trump’s claims that this is the primary issue. But it’s not. The issue here is a white supremacist administration that actively wants to purge undesirables.

for the anon that requested #2 from the prompt list

so sorry, tumblr was deleting everything so i needed to do it on here instead of answering your ask
“please don’t cry, i can’t stand to see you cry.”
-
you couldn’t do it, as hard as you tried you just couldn’t do it.

no matter how many times shawn told you not to read what people say on the internet, today you gave in.

you didn’t usually read the comments, or the mentions on twitter with your name in it, but today you felt like you had to.

after a few hours of scrolling through what seemed like endless comments on instagram and twitter, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the laptop screen. you believed every single thing that was being said about you.

they were right, you didn’t deserve shawn, you weren’t good enough for him. you weren’t pretty enough, or skinny enough either.

luckily shawn wasn’t going to be home for a few more hours, because if he caught you reading this you didn’t know what was going to happen.

you hadn’t looked away from your laptop screen in a few hours, you’ve answered no calls or texts, you didn’t even get up to make yourself any food even though you were very hungry.

you unlocked your phone while reading some tweets about the recent event you attended with shawn. you had multiple missed calls and a few texts from shawn.

“shit.” you whispered, reading the texts from shawn.

shawn <3
hey, studio hours got changed. coming home a few hours early today!

shawn <3
y/n? you haven’t answered anything all day, are you okay?

shawn <3
baby, it’s been 4 hours now. i’m coming home.

the last message was sent about an hour ago, meaning shawn would be home any minute now.

“y/n, i’m home!” you heard your boyfriend call from the front door followed by footsteps coming up the stairs.

there was no way you could get rid of all the tabs of social medias you have open, or even get out of the one page you were on before shawn’s tall frame appeared in the doorway of your bedroom.

“y/n, is there something wrong?” he asked.

you quickly shut your laptop, pushing it away from you before wiping your eyes just in case of any remaining tears.

“yeah i’m fine, sorry i just saw all your texts now. i fell asleep.” you flashed a quick fake smile to let shawn know you were okay.

“that’s bullshit y/n, i see right through you.”

you sighed as he came and sat next to you on your bed, pulling your laptop closer to him and opening it up.

tears filled your eyes as the endless tabs of hate were once again visible on the screen.

“i told you not to read this shit y/n,” he sighed after a few minutes of reading the comments.

“sorry,” you sniffled, “i couldn’t help it.”

shawn noticed you starting to cry again and pulled you onto his lap.

“hey,” he cooed, “please don’t cry. i can’t stand to see you cry.”

he let you cry for however long you needed. he didn’t say anything, but him being there was enough for you.

“y/n please don’t believe what they say, they’re just jealous. i don’t want any of them, i want you and only you.”

“but you should want them shawn! all your friends are so much prettier and skinner than me, they’re probably nicer too.”

you knew sometimes you weren’t the nicest person in the world, and people noticed that. you were sure it was starting to annoy shawn too.

“y/n, you are the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen in my life. inside and out. you need to believe me, i don’t want anybody else in the world but you.”

you nodded, finally looking at him. his eyes were staring to tear up too.

“why are you crying?” you asked, cupping his cheek. “i can’t stand to see you cry either.”

he shook his head, “i’m okay, just sad that you believe all these lies about you. one day, i’ll make you see they aren’t true.”

you nodded, pressing your lips on
his for a quick second before pulling away and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“but first,” he said, opening your laptop again. “we’re gonna make a
few changes with your social media accounts.”

anonymous asked:

on a related note, might i ask, what is some of your fave queer literature?

I’m relatively new to queer literature, so i’ve mostly read newer stuff but i’ve had great findings so far! I read mostly YA and new adult fiction. Last year, i’ve read the Captive Prince series by C.S Pacat and absolutely loved it. The All for the Game triology by Nora Sakavic was also brilliant and stayed with me for a long, long time. E.M Lindsey is both a friend and a fantastic author, and her work has never failed to touch my heart and drown me in emotions. I’ve read and loved Verismo, Absolution and Endless Forever by her immensely! The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller was definitely one of my favorites as well. Gone, Gone, Gone by Hannah Moskowitz was also a really emotional novel that’s made me think about my emotions along the way, i definitely want to read more of her stuff. I’ve really enjoyed the In Focus series by Megan Erickson, i’ve read Trust the Focus, Focus on Me and Out of Frame, and i’ve the fourth of the series, Overexposed, on my downloaded and waiting to be read. Megan Erickson also wrote a series with Santino Hassel called Cyberlove, i loved the use of modern elements like social media in it, the series definitely had more emotions than i’d previously expected! Strong Signal and Fast Connection were definitely great reads, i’ve also heard that a third installment for series called Hardwired is on the way this month! That’s absolutely on my to read list. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz was absolutely a treasure, i can name very few authors that could captivate me that much with their words! I’ve also really enjoyed Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli, it was really fun and lighthearted! Some other stuff on my to read list are I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson, One Man Guy by Michael Barakiva, Openly Straight and Honestly Ben (coming this march!) by Bill Konigsberg, Glitter on the Garland by @julietsemophase, Everything Leads to You by Nina Lacour,  Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan, Colorblind by Siera Maley, You Know Me Well by Nina LaCour and David Levithan, Annie on my Mind by Nancy Garden, We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson, Hero by Perry Moore and many, many, many others! I’ve started reading queer lit last year so i’ve *a lot* to catch up on, but i’m slowly making my way through. :) This isn’t even delving into the classics and earlier stuff. I also insist on not reading queer tragedy, so that narrows my reading pool a bit.

ETA: I forgot to say this, if you have any recommendations to me i’m definitely all ears, please send them my way!

Gowns and Guns

Writer: Serena (@juminlovesv

Illustrator: Tesneem (@shigi-no-stop)

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Jumin Han/V

Other Characters: Chairman Han, Glam Choi, Sarah Choi

Content Warnings: Alcohol, death

Notes: This is a collab by Tesneem and I for Day 3 of JuminV Week (@juminvweek), “Alternate Universe”! It took forever to finish and we hope you enjoy it! If anyone’s interested, the word count is 11 340 words.


Jihyun’s lucky to already be alone when the phone in his left pocket vibrates. The sting in his eyes when he stands from his cross-legged position tells him he’d been staring far too long at the photographs laid out on the floor, trying to decide which ones to use in his next exhibit. The light 707 installed to indicate that the call is being bugged isn’t flashing, so he brings it to his ear, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“Speaking.”

“Hello,” the voice on the other end greets him, which tells Jihyun right away that the caller has time to waste on pleasantries. He sinks down in the couch cushion, crossing one leg over the other. After a beat of silence, the other seems to get the hint. “I’m calling because I have a tip, and I’d like to hire your people to look into it.”

Jihyun waits, then prompts, “Go on,” when the other doesn’t continue. There’s no reason for Jihyun to give the person any information. They’re looking to hire, so they clearly know about what his organization does, and if their real goal is to sabotage Jihyun won’t speed the process by letting something slip.

“Yes, of course,” the other says, and there’s an edge to their voice that tells him they’re not entirely pleased by his reaction, but it doesn’t really matter what they think. “Well… have you heard about the New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball that C&R International hosts every year?”

Though there’s no one in the room to see him, Jihyun maintains tight control of his facial expression upon hearing the name of his best friend’s father’s enterprise. “Go on.”

“Well, you see… rumour has it that someone has hired an assassin for that night.”

Jihyun is silent. On its own, a fact like that isn’t strange. Assassinations take place at parties more often than one might expect considering the crowds, but in many cases the busyness just serves as a diversion and the party an inconspicuous setting in which to poison someone’s drink. Even his own organization has had to deal with assassinations in the past.

He doesn’t have to urge the other to continue this time, their tone turning steely as they carefully speak their next words. “The talks suggest that the Chairman is the target of the attack, and I have reason to believe the client is Jumin Han.”

Keep reading

like… i kinda understand where some people are coming from about not caring if lgbt+ representation is from a villain or a hero because some people looove villains. but the thing in this situation with batb is that it’s a film targeted at children. that’s why it’s just that extra kick in the gut for so many people. 

if you’re a young kid going to the cinema, this could potentially be first time you ever see on screen (and perhaps in real life) a man in love with another man, that’s going to influence the way you see that in other contexts. and if that man is a comedic-relief villain literally called the fool, even if they like the villains and like the comedy, that image is what that child will think about the following times they see something about same-gender attraction. 

representation matters, especially in children’s media, because it’s occasionally their first frame of reference for things they encounter in real life. How many times have you heard someone explain something to a child, and they respond with “oh, just like [example from a film/tv show]”? these things are sooo important, not just for straight kids who will meet gay people but for the young gay kids watching the film, whether they know they’re gay now or in the future. 

so yeah, maybe you, as an adult/older teen who has a wider view of the world than a 6 year old, are able to like a villain/comedic character who is gay. i understand that. but the 6 year old who is learning about same-gender couples and attraction for the first time isn’t necessarily going to get that this trait is not related to the other negative traits of this character.

Original fiction? A thing I create? It’s more likely than you think. I had a sudden burst of inspiration after seeing Wonder Woman, so I’m just gonna leave this little bit of my first chapter here and maybe, if you enjoy it, you could give me motivation to keep writing it? Thanks?
☆☆☆

Hero: person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.


Chapter One


      You know that part in movies where they do a freeze frame on the protagonist and they’re in some kind of crazy peril, and then there’s a voiceover that’s like, “Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.” (That’s called starting ‘In Media Res’, just so you know)

       Well, imagine me: I’m hanging off the Empire State Building, wearing a Superman costume I stole from Toys R Us, holding onto a rope held by a superhero who can actually fly and actually has a supersuit and stuff, while he’s effortlessly holding a beautiful girl in the other arm.

        Yup.

        That’s me.

        Really, though, is there a better way to describe my existence besides the situation I’m currently in? Probably not, man, probably not.

        “You sure you’ve got no broken limbs, Benny?” Hank asks smoothly. “You too, Ginger?”

         “It’s Ben,” I grumble. “And I’m fine.”

         “Well, your leg’s bleeding, Ben,” Ginger points out my skinned knee.

          “My mom has healing powers.” I mutter.

           We land on the ground, where newscasters immediately surround Hank. Perfect Hank. Unlike me, he takes after his world-renowned, superheroic parents. He’s already made the news 15 times since he turned 10, and heroes that are minors rarely make the headlines. He’s even got a superhero name - Hank Hoover. Hank Hoover. He fits right in with Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne. Meanwhile, I haven’t even begun to show powers.

           “Hey, sit down,” Ginger taps the space next to her, where she’s sitting on the curb. I sit beside her, and she slips off her sweater and ties it around my skinned knee. “At least until your mom can heal you.”

           Turns out Ginger isn’t the damsel in distress - I am.

           “Thanks,” I mumble, wishing that invisibility were my power.

            “No problem,” Ginger smiles. “Just bring it back to school on Monday.”

            “School?” I parrot. “Oh no, I’m a superhero, I don’t do school.”

             “Ben, I know it’s you,” She smirks, lowering her voice.

              Crud.

              “Uh, I don’t…I don’t know who you think I am,” I stammer. “But, I mean, Ben is a really common na-”

              “We were having milkshakes together when The Laser came in and took me, and as he took me, I saw you run into the Toys R Us,” She says matter-of-factly. “Besides, I’d recognize your voice anywhere.”

              Great, I don’t even have powers yet and I’ve already busted my secret identity. I feel my face heat up. “Oh.”

             “I won’t tell anyone,” She whispers. “But you’re a superhero? No offense, but you’re the last guy I’d expect.”

             I chuckle, wishing a hole would appear underneath and I could just stay there forever. “Yeah, well, uh, hero-in-training, you could say.”

             “I see you haven’t gotten a supersuit yet?”

              I glance down at my shoddy Superman costume, with the tags still on. “Yeah, no, I just, uh, left mine at home. I figured this would be better than my normal clothes, you know?”

             Ginger giggles. “I suppose so. Well, who’s he?” She points at Hank, and I feel the jealous knot in my stomach tighten.

             “I can’t just reveal his identity,” I reply. “It’s against hero co-”

             “Ben!” I turn to see my parents striding down the sidewalk. I’m unable to tell if their faces are concerned or just angry.

             “Ah, that’s my cue,” I sigh and stand up. “Catch you later, Ginger.”

             “Hey, Ben?”

             I look over my shoulder back at Ginger, her red hair framing her face perfectly. “Yeah?”

             “Thanks for saving me,” She grins. “Or, well-”

             “Trying to save you?” I offer with a smirk.

            “Er, yeah,” She smirks. “I really appreciate it.”

            “Just doing my job,” I respond. As I turn back to my parents, I mutter, “Or trying to do my job.”

●●●

            “TCSFSH?”

            “The Corrective School For Superheroes.” My parents announce in unison, smoothing out a pamphlet spread across the kitchen table.

            I feel the pit in my stomach grow. “Corrective school?”

           “It seems nice, Ben,” My mom says with a smile as real as a crooked politician’s promises. “Look, you make friends with a bunch of other budding heroes! You could have other hero friends besides Hank.”

           “Hank isn’t my friend.”

           “Exactly,” Mom points to a stock picture of beaming students. “See, it’d be good for you.”

           “It’s a boarding school,” I point out. “You’re gonna send me away?”

           “No, don’t put it like that,” Mom cringes. “We-we’re just trying to help you, sweetheart.”

           “And you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Dad chimes in. “But, you want to be a hero, right?”

            “Of course I do,” I respond quickly. I pause for a moment. “I just…I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.”

            “We’ve been over this, honey,” Mom sighs. “Of course you’re cut out to be a hero. You were born to be a hero!”

            “We’re two of the most powerful heroes in all of America,” Dad says, his ego taking up the whole room. “And you’re our son. You have greatness in your blood.”

            “They said the same thing about Captain Incredible’s son,” I retort. “He turned out to be a flop.”

            “But, you are not Captain Incredible’s son,” Mom says, taking my hand. “You’re out beautiful boy. You’re going to wonderful things, whether you develop powers or not.”

             “But, we want to give you your best chance at following in our footsteps, if that’s what you want.” Dad finishes. “So, what do you say?” He points to the pamphlet. “Wanna give it a shot?”

             I feel myself nod. “Okay.”

            

anonymous asked:

1/Have you seen this post? I can't include a link, but it's Thecaffeinebookwarrior and the post is Male Characters to Avoid In Your Writing I was wondering what you thought of it. I have a lot of feelings about this. I honestly don't like any of those characters, Edward Cullen and Christian Grey are despicable, but why should anyone avoid writing a specific male character or any character for that matter?

2/I personally decided the exact type of person I wanted to be with by reading and watching bad characters. I knew what crappy behavior was and could spot it a mile away, all because of wretched characters in media. Do we only get to consume media or create media now that avoids disgusting characters? I feel like it comes from good intent, but we shouldn’t be telling each other what to not do, just because it’s “problematic”.



Oh, you should absolutely write any character you want. But if you write an Edward Cullen or a Christian Grey, then be prepared for the fact that a lot of people are going to call you out on it. And not because you shouldn’t write assholes–one of my favourite characters ever is Alex from A Clockwork Orange and he’s a murdering rapist–but because you shouldn’t write assholes and frame them as romantic heroes and expect for people to just swallow that.

The issue isn’t that Christian Grey and Edward Cullen exist in literature, it’s that they’re presented as the sort of men that the female characters in the books should aspire to. And there are a bunch of women out there who treat the idea of Christian Grey like he’s their perfect man. 

Which… well, good luck to them, I guess, since their chances of actually finding a handsome unattached billionaire are quite slim, and so therefore are their chances of being manipulated, abused and raped by one. 

And honestly, I really do think that most people with the most basic critical thinking skills read those books and go “Ew, no thank you.” And those who don’t have probably already formed the opinions on what is and isn’t romantic and how men and woman should and shouldn’t act way before picking the books up. 

So yes, writers should be able to write what they like. But if you’re going to frame asshole characters as true romantic heroes, then expect pushback. And, having said that, it’s still perfectly okay to read and enjoy those books (and those characters) if you want to. Just like it’s perfectly okay to read those books and want to throw up in your mouth a little. 

Personally, I want to read the book where I can actually identify with the heroine. I want to read the book where she runs into the tall, dark, handsome and dangerous man, takes thirty seconds to tell him where to jam his possessive streak, and then runs away with the guy who treats her like a human being, makes her laugh, and probably also has a puppy. That’s my idea of a  happy ending. 

White Widow - Part 2

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 (Smut)| PART 10 (Final)

Character Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses her fiance to Hydra, she is sent to the Avengers compound for her protection. Forced to share the guest house with the famous assassin, the Winter Soldier, she must learn to cope with her loss and her new roommate. All this, while trying to solve the mystery of why Hydra is now hunting her.

Warnings: Nightmares, depression

Characters this chapter: Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark

A/N: Thank everybody for the feedback! Like I said, I haven’t written anything in 10ish years and I’ve never posted a fic on Tumblr before, so I really appriciate all the help. I’m already getting requests for tags, so shoot me an ask if you want tagged.

The Avengers Compound looked impressive from the sky. Two people stood on the ground to greet us as our helicopter landed.

“Captain” Tony greeted the man with a handshake

“And Sharon!” he pulled the woman in for a hug “I didn’t know you’d be joining us”

“Just for a few days, Tony. I have to head back to Berlin soon.” She smiled

“Ms. Y/N, this is Agent Carter, FBI. This is Captain Steve Rogers, he’ll be showing you around and getting you settled today.”

I shook both their hands, trying not to be star struck. It was one thing to share a helicopter ride with the always eccentric Iron Man. But to meet Captain America, the hero I’d seen on the news so many times, it made me blush a little.

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss miss” He looked down at me, sullen.

“Thank you” I replied

“I’m going to head off to my office, see if Vision was able to get any intel on those weapons dealers in Egypt…” Tony trailed off  “You kids have fun.”

“Let’s begin the tour?” Steve gestured towards the enormous building behind him

Keep reading

TBT: How Andrew Hussie’s Homestuck Presents Deconstruction for a Youth Audience (2013)

Andrew Hussie’s Homestuck is a deconstruction of typical narrative form in Derrida’s sense of the “unseen”. That is, Homestuck allows the audience view the “unnatural frame” that Derrida claims surrounds many feigned natural states. He does this through the inclusion of the fourth wall as an actual, physical element within the story, allowing it to interact directly with the events transpiring in canon. Derrida’s ideas of “being” are also questioned as he allows each and every part of the Homestuck experience to play a part in the formation of the plot (including the website the web comic is hosted on). Hussie also places himself within the story as a self-insert character, interacting with his creations and altering the story to a point where his involvement becomes plot-crucial. This kind of deconstruction is important, as Hussie plays with deconstruction in a light-hearted yet serious manner, presenting it in a way that makes it more accessible and more comprehensible to the masses. Hussie is very aware of what he is doing, claiming that “there is not much distinction between the layers of abstraction and the reality they are meant to stand for,” (Hussie, 2012). Through this kind of self-aware attitude, works like Homestuck introduce youth, non-academics and academics alike to deconstruction in a way that is clearer and more understandable as a literary form. This will eventually allow for much more diversity in the collective oeuvre of post-structuralism literature, as youth are able to experience and critique literary works that are not meant to be judged solely by academics.

In an interview from the documentary Derrida, the interviewer invites Derrida to extrapolate on his ideas of deconstruction. But before he addresses the interviewer’s request, he remarks, “I want to make a preliminary remark on the completely artificial character of this situation… I want to underline rather than efface our surrounding technical conditions, and not feign a “naturality” that doesn’t exist,” (Derrida, 2001). Derrida expresses that there is always an unnatural frame surrounding many forms of life (and, more specifically, media), and this frame is very rarely discussed. In Homestuck, Andrew Hussie chooses to address this frame in much the same way that Derrida chose to address the artificiality surrounding his interview. This “unnatural frame” takes shape in the form of the fourth wall—an often unseen, metaphysical idea that is rarely discussed in a literary work. However, Homestuck takes it one step further. It does not simply mention or draw attention to the fourth wall: it gives it a physical form, and has it play a crucial part in the actions and motivations of characters. In the end of Act 5, the fourth wall is broken through by two characters in a break to the “real world”, in the hopes that they can escape their universe. Hussie is clearly very aware of the distinction between the “real” world and the fictitious one, as well as the way in which these two worlds interact. He states in an interview, “Homestuck-time and real-time have always been married in a strange way. I started it on 4/13/09, and by my own rule, that became locked in as the date in the story too. And then it became stuck there, for one day of Homestuck-time, while real-time flowed normally for two and a half years… When they crashed through the wall… They have gone from HS-time to real-time. Given the schism between clocks, you could say they are faced with a rush of lost time, all at once. Like massive temporal wind resistance. So in crossing the yellow yard, they are forced to live every second that passed here in the real world which they did not experience in their fictional adventure. It’s the toll they have to pay before breaking through the other side and joining the others.” (Hussie, 2012). The ways in which he addresses Derrida’s idea of a “frame” are not subtle. Hussie has no qualms in regards to presenting these ideas to his audience rather than attempting to mask them, as he takes the unseen and presents it in a very blatant and obvious challenge to typical narrative forms.

While discussing Heidigger, Derrida mentions that he “reminds us that ‘being,’ as it is fixed in its general syntactic and lexicological forms within linguistics and Western philosophy, is not a primary and absolutely irreducible signified,” (Derrida, 1967). In this way, Derrida (and Heidigger, indirectly) express that the idea of “being” is not a fixed constant. It is a fluid, abstract concept that can be toyed with and experimented with, and in many of the ways in which Hussie approaches Homestuck, it is obvious that he is questioning this idea of “being,” playing with it in different ways within his narrative. One of the ways in which he does this is through the website on which Homestuck is hosted. Very rarely does one see a work of literature in which the host of the work plays a role in the story, especially to the extent that Homestuck’s host (the MSPA website) does. On multiple occasions in the story (though it has been more frequent as of recent updates), the website is directly impacted by plot developments in the story. At one point a character beats the narrative prompt with a crowbar, sending the website into chaos to the point where it’s nearly impossible to navigate—and once again Hussie is very aware of what he is doing. He is intentionally taking the audience on a ride, anticipating their reactions and coursing the plot to influence them accordingly. He says directly to the audience in one panel, “You decide that’s entirely enough of that. If this website becomes any more self-aware in a playfully self-deprecating yet weirdly self-aggrandizing manner, you’re going to go drown a bag of puppies in a sewer,” (Homestuck, p. 1681). Hussie guides the audience to consider what “being” means, both in terms of experiencing a piece of literature and how the piece of literature itself exists within a space. By having the website malfunction as a result of character intervention, he is demonstrating that nothing within Homestuck’s “being” is fixed; there is always a chance that this fluidity of existence will manifest itself in new ways within the web comic.

           Derrida’s idea of an unnatural frame is not the only way in which he addresses the unseen in works of literature. In his article “Of Grammatology”, he comments that “writing is that forgetting of the self, that exteriorization, the contrary of the interiorizing memory,” (Derrida, 1967). This ties in with Derrida’s notion of “centring concepts” in terms of the “building blocks” of deconstruction based thinking, specifically in regards to how an author is considered to be in the centre of their oeuvre, but in a way in which they do not exist within the story itself, caught in a state of existing and not-existing at the same time. While authors have a history of appearing within their own works (see: Thomas Moore’s Utopia), it is rarely in a purely fictional sense, and rarely with the amount of self-awareness that takes place within Homestuck (Moore’s story included non-fictional correspondence between him and several colleagues). However, Hussie chooses to play with this idea very openly, nearly mocking the idea that an author should, in theory, exist as an “effaced trace image”. His multiple self inserts within the story, often viewed from beyond the visible frame of the fourth wall, are so frequent that they begin to change the course of the story. Hussie interacts with his characters directly, proposing marriage to one, arguing with another, and in the end it results in his death (at the hands of an indestructible character of his own creation). He does, however, allow himself to be bound by many of the rules of his creation, including his being cast into the afterlife of his own design. Despite this, he does allow himself a little bit of creative freedom, tricking the readers in a lighthearted way at multiple points in the story, claiming things such as, “While I did promise to influence the story over only 1 yard and 3 ns, I didn’t say it would also be 1 yard and 3 ns in their relativistic frame of reference!” (Hussie, 2011). In a page that was put directly into the comic, he addresses his self inserts directly with the fans after a good deal of controversy sprung up in regards to these insertions, stating, “As the indulgent self inserts grow in frequency, you may find yourself increasingly afraid that my direct interference with canonical events approaches inevitability. But you should understand that I understand I am dealing with forces which if handled recklessly will nullify the basic ability of intelligent beings in all real and hypothetical planes of existence to give a shit. It would be stupid of me to mismanage these forces… When the time comes, I will interact directly with the events of this narrative. But this moment will be responsibly confined to a passive intervention. It will be compact, surgical, and essential,” (Homestuck, p. 2657). The insertion of Hussie as a character is not one done recklessly or without cause; it was done very intentionally, and it was done in a way that invites readers to question not only other works of literature, but the way in which the author does or does not interact with it.

           Andrew Hussie addresses multiple forms of deconstruction in his web comic Homestuck, namely in the ways in which he calls upon and mocks the idea of the “unseen” which Derrida often refers to in terms of both media and literature. Hussie invites destruction through his lack of adherence to typical narrative form, and through that destruction he is able to build something completely new. In this way Homestuck can easily be considered a deconstruction work of literature. It eliminates the unseen “frame” that Derrida describes, incorporating it into his story and allowing it to play a literal part. It questions what it means not only to exist as an author, but what it means to exist as a part of the literary experience—specifically through use of the website itself. The author himself plays a role as well, no longer existing as a “trace image” in the centre of his oeuvre, and instead participating actively in the story of his own creation. None of this is accidental; Hussie is very aware of what he is doing, and has no qualms about bringing it to the reader’s attention multiple times within the story. At one point in his first self-insertion, he asks the reader what he should do, and in response he replies with, “How about if I drag the content from one of the John files under the fourth wall layer, so we can make a more graceful transition out of this ludicrous, highly disruptive self-insertion arc?” (Homestuck, p. 1679). In this way Homestuck acts as a textbook illustration of classic Derridian deconstruction.

Now, the question becomes: why? What benefit is there to creating a work so laden with deconstruction ideas and principals, only to make it so incredibly obvious it can’t be ignored? In fact, it’s a very simple question to answer. Homestuck’s reader base consists mainly of youth, and as such they have likely not been exposed to much in the way of deconstruction, especially on a more academic scale. In this way, Homestuck allows these readers a clear and concise overview of deconstruction on a scale that is much more manageable and comprehensive to a younger audience. More so, it allows for its reader base to consider more unconventional and unorthodox methods of approaching literature. By viewing such blatant deconstruction at a young age, it opens the idea of deconstruction up to a new audience, which, for a school of thought dominated by older academics, is extremely important. Andrew Hussie allows for a new generation of deconstruction-based thought, as well as proving that Derrida’s ideas are not meant to merely rest confined within the pages of textbooks. In this way, Hussie can guarantee that more deconstruction critique and literature will emerge from younger minds, and that these ideas will not be lost with the minds that founded them.

Sense me (OT7xReader)

Park Jimin is part of a cluster of eight people. In which he wonders if he’s worth them and it climaxes in a big cluster-fuck (^^°) or when Lana tried to make it short and ended up with the longest fucking smut ever….

Warning: Smut, Orgy (Poly relationship), oral sex, vaginal sex, girl on boy, boy on boy, boyxgirlxboy, anal sex, double penetration, it’s basically filthy smut

word count: 9263

xxx Lana

Disclaimer: the idea of sensates or a cluster like that is taken from a show called Sense8 which you should check out! 


Originally posted by ki-raa

It’s silent in the building, as it’s asked of the people. They walk past pictures and sculptures, past portraits and jewelry from old days. Some are naughty, take quick pictures with their phones. Probably to share with family and friends, or to put on their social media. He doesn’t move as he watches that one painting for seemingly hours. His dark chocolate eyes, following the soft curves of the female face. Tracing carefully, as if it were his fingers touching the strands gently, each and every single curl that falls and frames the face. His gaze dances across exposed shoulders, the beautiful dress of the 15h’s exposing it and a little bit of plump painted cleavage. She looks so real to him and yet so surreal at the same time. His ring adorned hands, clasped in between his spread legs, elbows resting on top of his nicely shaped thighs. Despite his beauty, he could not find himself comparable to the others. He wasn’t tall, he wasn’t strong, he wasn’t quick or smart, he wasn’t cunning or full of wisdom. He was just an actor, someone who had faked so many lives for the big screen, that he didn’t know how to live his own one. And although he was no longer just by himself in his mind and heart, he had never felt more lonely than in that moment. 

His eyes no longer being able to take the woman’s perfection, dropping to his polished shoes. Sensing the man, even before his vision conjured up his image – he never really would understand how it was possible. How any of this was possible. “What is this place?” the man asks curiously, his head tilted. Black hair is spread in a whirlwind around his head, but gelled nicely out of his forehead and up. A mask hangs loosely around his neck, fingers peeking through the holes in his gloves made of leather. It is always an all black ensemble, with the occasional white in between. “It’s the Louvre” he replies and turns his head from his downward position, to look over to the man. There is no one else in the room, so no one could think of him as insane. Once again it is there. The thought what other’s would think of him. “It’s nice…” he simply says. Though the young doubting-man is sure, the other can pick up on his self doubt and self loathing.

”Do you come here often?” he asks next and leans back. His hands splay on top of the marble the bench is made of. “Whenever I need to think, I guess…” there is no sense in lying. The predicament they are in is all about sensing. Feeling the others, hearing the others, seeing them and visiting them. He had stood against it, had accepted as last of them. Not wanting anyone to look into his head, the messed up things they could have discovered, his uselessness to their cause. Whatever that may be. Silence falls between both men, engulfed in centuries old paintings and possessions of kings and queens some long forgotten, some barely remembered. Others as an example for humanities failure. “Woah!” it is another voice, someone else joining them in the quiet room. “We’re in France right?” the boyish voice says. His almond shaped eyes open wide, as his head turns left and right, up and down. Taking all of it in and wandering about the room. “I’ve never been outside my country…” he informs the two men on the marble bench. As he walks as close as no one else but him can, to the paintings. His fingers slide over their surface, but he can not touch them, can not know how they felt. Because the one who actually is in the Louvre has never done so and therefore did not provide the memory of the painting’s feeling underneath his finger’s tips. 

“And you can come here every time you like?” he asks, turns his head to look at the older boy on the bench. “Whenever I can afford to have some time for myself” he says and for a second he forgets why he’s even in the Louvre. The youngest has that effect on people, makes them forget everything and focus on his childlike wonder for a few moments. He sits down on the floor, right in between the two men and looks up at the french one. “Are you alright?” he asks. His lips are formed into a tiny pout and he has his head tilted to the side, almost looking like a puppy. He hates it, hates that even with nothing, with his own problems. The other has time to worry about him. “It’s not that….” the youngest says and takes a deep breath. “I just can’t see the bad things you see about yourself…” from the side there is a sharp intake of breath, the silence weighing heavier on them. “It’s because we’re in different worlds” he doesn’t mean for it to come out as sharply as it did, or for the other to flinch back a little. But he makes it happen and it’s another thing he ads on the long list of things, he fucks up on a daily basis. “It’s the first time you actually think of yourself…” the youngest says and reaches out to touch the top of his still clasped hands. He could swear on the grave of his mother, that he was able to feel that touch.

”Just because our problems are of different nature, doesn’t mean they aren’t equally important…” he says and his lips form into a small version of his usually radiant boxy-grin. “I am content with who I am, but I am not with the circumstances I live in. While you are content with the circumstances you live in, but not the person you are….” phrased like that, he thinks he begins to understand. Though it will never stop his self-loathing from coming to the surface, he thinks he can see where the other is coming from. “Taehyung is right” he had been silent for the conversation of the two, but he feels he should say something now. He is bad at breaking the ice, but he can do the silent comfort. However sometimes he knows the words to say, sometimes he knows how to verbally comfort someone. “You know what I did, after meeting each and every one of you?” he asks and the two younger ones shake their heads. They can look into his mind and find out, but they like to converse with one another. After all you can barely keep any privacy with eight people in your head, but you can mutually agree to some privacy. “I searched for every single one of you…. on information and location. I looked up what kind of people, were connected to me. And wanna know what I found out?” they nod. “I found out, that I have been graced with great people. People that can give me the things I lack, that can make me feel whole. Like no one else will ever. They… you… compliment me on a level that no one ever will, you are part of me…. You are the parts I needed to find myself…” it is mushy, truth be told it is chick-flick talk. But it is the honest truth and sometimes that outweighs the moment of embarrassment. 

“You saved Yoongi’s life…. you helped me, when that officer nearly found me….” his eyes are small crescents as he smiles brightly at him. “You are more than you give yourself credit for Jimin” his eyes water. He can’t help it. It hits too close to home, wondering if he can even offer something to his cluster, if he can help in a way. He has felt useless, knowing the others are so efficient, are so helpful in situations of dire need. “We don’t have many channels where I live… but I was able to find one where they play your movies” Taehyung sounds proud of himself. He smiles just as brightly as the eldest at Jimin. “Hobi helped me get it for free” his smile turns mischievously. “That was the least I could do….” the other mumbles and rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, the black leather almost merging with his black hair. Salty tears are still gathered at the corner of Jimin’s eyes, but he subtly wipes them away with his thumbs. “My… m-my movies?” his eyes go wide and he blushes to the root of his hair. People would think he is used to people knowing who he is and for his movies to be seen everywhere. But the thought of his cluster knowing his movies and watching them. Or god forbid those horrible telenovelas he has played in. He squirms in his seat and is stopped with a hand to his shoulder. Turning his head upwards, to see the only woman of the whole cluster. You squeeze his shoulder. “I sensed your distress… are you alright?”

Taehyung jumps off of the ground and sticks to your side like a Koala, telling you that he and “Hobi” are in the middle of helping him. And that they have it all under control. Pink tongue darts out to moisten your dry lips, you smile warmly. There is no other way to react to Taehyung but a kind and warm smile. “I see… then you don’t need me, do you?” it is meant to be teasing. But for a split second you forget your hand is on Jimin’s shoulder and you squeeze a little. Of course the sunset haired actor takes note of it and reaches out with his hand. Warm and bigger than yours, yet smaller than Taehyung’s it covers your own hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look in your direction, but squeezes your hand in return. Silent reassuring that you are needed, that you are as much part of his saving as the others are. “When all of this happened, I thought I was going insane. All these attractive people and only I can see them. Places I never been to, things I didn’t know and could suddenly do. It was overwhelming to say the least….” Hoseok spoke into the silence, Jimin’s focus completely on him, unbothered by the people that pass him and wonder why that young man stares off into the distance, holding his shoulder. You keep your hand on Jimin’s shoulder, as you sit down next to him. Taehyung once again resuming his position on the polished floor. Light reflecting off of the clean floor, like it would from a beautiful pearl.

“I remember the first one of us I met!” you exclaim and blush a little, as you think back to Yoongi. He had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of your shower, blood pouring from a split lip. You can still recall the pain from his injury, the anger and confusion of his. Until he noticed your nude state and had yelled at you to cover up. “I’ve never been yelled at in my own shower….” the other sensates laugh. And once again Jimin does not notice, how people watch him laugh by himself. He doesn’t care, he’s with his loved ones, with the only people who will fully understand him. “It’s not my fault you were butt naked….” the lazy drawl comes from Hoseok’s right and there he stands, wearing pajama bottoms and shirtless. Min Yoongi had been fast asleep, when his alarm had woken him for work. Just to simply stand in the fucking Louvre of all places, listening to the idiots talk. He will never admit that Jimin’s feelings had woken him, even out of the sleep state he’d been in. Way before his alarm could have. How he hates that Jimin doesn’t laugh as he usually does, or smiles as he usually does. That Jimin needed a room like that one in the Louvre, to think. “But Yoongi! It was my shower!” you protest and cross your arms over your chest. Jimin’s hand dropping back to his lap, but the touch of your shoulder to his, preventing him from morning the loss of your warmth. Hoseok’s knee touches his, as the second eldest spreads his legs for comfort. The currently silver haired just rolls his eyes, not even dignifying you with an answer, for you are right and all of you knew.

Timezones might separate him and his cluster, as well as oceans and miles of land. But never has he felt closer to anyone. Not even people he had grown up with, not even his own flesh and blood of family. “Isn’t it too late for all of you to be awake?” Sensible Seokjin. You know without looking at your phone or even looking up his country, that it is half past eleven at night. He is probably on the nightshift again, or another 24h shift. “But it’s barely one am in Iceland…” you tell him, with a bright smile. A scolding is on the tip of Seokjin’s tongue, but it never passes his lips. He doesn’t go into any of your minds without your permission, but feelings are less easy to prevent from intercepting than thoughts were. Which was why he knows you don’t want to talk about it, but you can’t sleep. It does unsettle him slightly. “What about the rest of you?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re not my mother, but it’s just almost 9 and I am on my way to work. Any complaints?” the tall light brown haired doesn’t have any and turns his attention on the rest. “It’s not even six in Dubai, Jinnie…” Taehyung’s boxy grin is still in place, especially when Seokjin is distractedly carding his fingers through Tae’s bleached blonde hair. “I just got done with work…” Hoseok has his eyes closed head tilted to the ceiling, listening on the others that are around him. “We’re almost complete…” you murmur and wonder where Jeongguk and Namjoon are. It is pretty early in Washington, which means Namjoon is probably at work, while it has to be around the same time as yours in Seoul. You wondered if Jeongguk is awake. Just on cue both stand in front of the marble bench, next to Seokjin they complete the half closed circle. 

Jimin smiles apologetically at the two, the thought of //Now I gathered them all here, because of my silly problems// crosses his mind. Alerting all the seven sensates around him to his track of mind. “I was finishing the painting for tomorrow’s class. I didn’t know what was lacking and I thought of France and the Louvre… that’s why I am here…” it isn’t a lie, you can tell from the sincerity that rings with Jeongguk’s words. “And maybe I remembered that you liked to go here… so you’d know how it looks and all…” Jeon Jeongguk is the youngest in their cluster, an art student from Seoul and underground cage fighter. Jimin has always teased and overwhelmed Jeongguk with affection. Which the other has always returned with sarcasm and rejection. All in good humor of course. For the latter to actually remember something of Jimin’s does not come as a surprise. As much as he pretends he doesn’t care and is busy with school, he cares deeply. The dark haired Korean boy scratches the back of his head a little in embarrassment. Namjoon only curls an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders and takes away the embarrassment in an instant. He is their leader of sorts, despite Seokjin and Yoongi being older. He just exudes that power. “Just wanted to check on all of you and well you seemed to have gathered here…” he turns his head to watch the paintings. Humming, his head slightly tilted and leaning against Jeongguk’s. Namjoon loves museums, wether it is art, history or science. He loves to gather knowledge and store it away in that big brain of his. Jeongguk shyly reaches out with his hand and has the tips of his fingers, press against the tips of Jimin’s finger’s. They curl the first digits around one another in a lose hold. It’s the only way he knows how to comfort, because he’s no good with words. He’s too harsh and honest, to be comforting.

For the moment it feels perfect, all eight of you gathered in the Louvre. Talking, laughing and just enjoying one another’s company. Each and every one of you forgets their problems, their lives and the urgencies of matters for a second. Just being in the presence of their complementing other seven halves. It feels right to be with these complete strangers, more than anything in your life ever had. That night you fall asleep without any aid. You fall asleep to the laughter of Taehyung, the scolding of Seokjin and the clicking sound Yoongi makes with his tongue, when he’s annoyed. You fall asleep to Hoseok’s deep voice rumbling against the back of your neck, as you sit in his lap and he cards his hand through your hair. Jimin holding one of your hands, while the other is held by Taehyung on the ground. Namjoon’s charismatic voice, talking about happenings that shaped current Europe. While Jeongguk strolled around the room, seeking the inspiration he’d come for. You fall asleep to the first honest laughter of Jimin, since you’d met him. Jimin’s head is clear and full of new hopes for the next days and maybe years. He’s filled with an explosive happiness he can’t pin point. Steps almost too light for the concrete beneath him, as if he was hoovering over the ground. Lips in a breathtaking smile, his eyes were forming crescents. Taehyung accompanies him to his apartment, because he has nothing to do yet. His next race is in two days and for now he’s bored and wants to explore the other’s lives and countries. Jimin doesn’t mind, he enjoys the younger’s presence and his never ending stream of interesting and to be quite honest weird things. 

He learns that Taehyung is an extremely good saxophone player and that he would lend Jimin the ability if he ever needs it for an audition. But that that talent of his meant little to nothing, not where he grew up. While Dubai sounds glamorous upon first hearing, Jimin knows from glitched memories, that Taehyung did not have such a glamorous life. That there was a whole other side to Dubai. They talk and sit next to one another for a long time, or so it feels at least. Before Taehyung has to part, because his younger brother is at home and he needs to help him with his homework. The orange haired actor doesn’t mind, accepting the parting hug that Tae bestows upon him. For anyone watching, it would be a weird sight. Jimin hugging puffs of air. Once he is alone again, he makes for his nightly routine. Being an actor comes with a lot of responsibilities, which included taking care of his skin and his health. But for once in his life Jimin wants a hot shower and just to fall asleep. Which is exactly what he does, shedding out of his clothing, throwing all of it into the hamper next to the sink. He brushes his teeth, washes his face and dries both face and hands with the soft towel to his right. Not bothering to put on any clothes, he walks naked to his bedroom and falls on top of his bed. It’s a lot of wiggling and feet pushing the blanket around, until he’s underneath and snuggled in. It is one of his guilty pleasures to feel the cool sheets and his blanket on his naked skin. Loves to leave the designer clothes and suits for the freedom of his own skin. And maybe he is a little of a exhibitionist. Maybe just a tiny bit.

Sleep befalls the twenty-six year old quickly, sweeping him of consciousness towards dreamland. Dropping him right in a scenario he only allows himself during night times, when his brain is working through the happenings of the days and has no time to fight off his inner desires. Hot hands roamed his chest, fingers splayed. Slender and tanned from the sun, they find their ways over his chest and towards his shoulders. He is pressed into the bed, for a pair of plump lips to enclose around the skin on his neck. Sucking and licking on the patch of skin, as if it is ambrosia. He can feel another pair of hands slide past his right knee and up his thigh. Thumb brushing over the bone of his hip, that is slightly protruding. Chocolate eyes closed, feeling the maximum of the touches, he can’t do anything but moan. Groan as another pair of hands spread his legs, pressure put on both his knees to keep them apart. He bucks his hips, when a different pair of lips kissed down his chest. A kittenish tongue stroking over his hardening nipples. He is overly sensitive on his nipples and neck, but he’s never told anyone. Jimin is too busy to play around with girls or boys, he’s too busy to make a living, to escape his family to bother with a lover. Too long is it ago, for him to have felt anything resembling a warm willing body next to him. A born submissive, he can only be on the mercy of whoever was giving him the pleasure. Rewarding them with his breathy moans and the rumbling groans from deep within his chest. It feels like hands are everywhere, lips of different shapes and texture pressing to his hot skin. His erection is curving up to his stomach and at this point pre-cum is dribbling from the tip and onto his stomach. And then the whole world tilts and he finds himself on his knees, elbows imprisoning someone underneath him. Eyes snapping open to make sense of the whole situation, he watches you with wide eyes. You’re equally as wide eyed as he is. Your breathing is heavy, t-shirt clothed chest brushing against his naked and sweating one. Beads of sweat are rolling down the side of his face and soak into his now slightly darker hair. It looks like a sunset bleeding into the night sky and you want to touch it so desperately. It’s rough against his skin, the fabric of your T-shirt. And he can tell, from the sink and lift of each of your chests, that your nipples have hardened. A tap to his muscly thighs makes him break eye contact with you, in favor to look to his right. Where Taehyung has one knee on the bed, his other leg outstretched and supporting his body on the ground. “You should invest in a bigger bed” he tells you, his voice deep and filled with a wicked undertone.

You are distracted with his sudden appearance, to notice how a hand sneaks underneath your oversized white sleeping shirt. A calloused finger rubs against your nipple and pulls you right away from Taehyung’s hungry eyes. For a split second you think it’s Jimin, for he’s still kneeling above you. But the finger is too rough and the hand that then cups your chest, is equally too rough to be Jimin’s. A pale slender hand cups your chin and pulls your head to the side, to meet Yoongi and Namjoon’s eyes. You are confused, which is a constant state ever since you met your other cluster-buddies. However you’re also sexually frustrated and hot and bothered. Making it much easier to accept the fact, that you were probably going to have a mind orgy. The bed is definitely too small to accommodate all of you. Which you get told again by Hoseok, when he straddles Seokjin’s lap, though you’d not seen him or the latter appear. How could you even, with Yoongi kissing you breathless and Namjoon’s wandering hands. Or were they Jeongguk’s? You could not tell, but one of them pushes your legs further apart and Jimin has to scoot a little closer to Taehyung, to make sure all of you are on the bed. Your neck is graced with Jimin’s plump lips, sucking and licking over your skin. Though you know that there is no way in hell he is actually doing it, it feels real and overwhelming. He knows damn well that your most sensitive body part was your neck. So did the other’s. It is the same way, of you knowing exactly that Yoongi likes his hair being pulled. Or that Namjoon wants your mouth wrapped around his cock.

 It’s all things you just know, don’t need to ask, don’t need to fumble. It’s imprinted into your mind, as much as your desire is in theirs. “We’d be looking like some weirdos….” Taehyung’s voice is even deeper than usual, arousal so evident that it makes the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on edge. “Well I locked my office, because I had the sudden urge to fuck someone…” Seokjin grumbles. Your thighs quiver, when you hear the eldest curse. It is something that rarely to never happens, especially never has happened in this way. Though truth be told, you and your cluster have never gone beyond an occasional kiss or the regular hug. His train of thought is quickly diverted, when Hobi rolls his hips downward. Their members are hard and straining against their pants and the drag against one another, just feels heavenly. It is weird to know what they feel and how it feels like, when it’s not you or your body that is experiencing it. Still it spurs on your own arousal. You know at one point it’s just memories of arousal and touches, orgasms and lust. But it’s all so potent, so real and almost on the tip of your tongue for you to taste, that you can’t find it in yourself to care. “God I would give anything, to get on an airplane and actually touch you right now…” Namjoon’s voice is so close to your ear, his teeth pulling at your cartilage. There is a surge of confidence, maybe it is because overly confident Namjoon wants you so badly. Or it’s because you’re being touched by three other people and you’re somehow the center of their attention. Either way, a surge of confidence has you moving to support yourself on your elbows. Head angling to capture Namjoon in a kiss and whisper against his heavily panting lips. “Why don’t you big boy…”

He doesn’t get to answer, when Yoongi impatient as he is, pulls you towards him. His slender fingers are stronger than they look and hold you in a vice like grip. It’s on a fine line of painful and pleasurable. Has you gasping against his lips, with how close his face is to yours now. Pupils blown wide with lust, his erection pressing against your knee with the position you are sandwiched in. “Such a fucking tease…” he murmurs and teeth finding your lower lip and biting down on it. He pulls a little, just enough to have you moan from the sensation. Before he lets up and kisses over the place he has bitten. If Yoongi is impatient, Jeongguk doesn’t even know that word. He has enough from just touching and watching. He wants to do more, but decides to not get in between Yoongi and Namjoon. Jimin however is fair game, he’s just kissing Taehyung and running his fingers through the blonde strands of the racer. You have to move your legs a little, so Jeongguk can squeeze himself between Yoongi and Jimin. His thighs are thicker than Jimin’s, corded with muscles. His chest broader as well and thick arms matching the orange haired’s. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s chest and pulls him back against his chest. Groaning when he feels the other’s supple butt press against his erection. In return making his elder moan into Taehyung’s mouth.

Distracted as you are you don’t even notice how Yoongi nods at Namjoon. Yanking you forward by your ankle, you finds yourself straddling Yoongi, making room on the bed, so that Seokjin can roll Hoseok on his back. Just on the space you had been laying on seconds before. “Ah…” the gasp leaves your lips, when you feel the tip of Yoongi’s erection slide over your slick pussy. His head falls back, his breathless moan makes a few turn their head. It’s the very first time to actually hear Yoongi moan like that. Though with the months you are together, you would have thought to at least catch a glimpse of his arousal once. He never had actually shown any sexual desire, up until now that is. Lazily he tips his head forward, to catch your eyes and smirks. His lips turning up a little on the right side. Making you want to trace those lips with your finger. How he could spit fire with that mouth of his, a mouth that could rap so fast it makes you dizzy. The thought spreads from you to the others and you collectively moan at the thought. “Now I want him to suck me off….” Taehyung murmurs. Even with Jeongguk’s hand sliding down his chest, towards his red and quite decently long cock.

Hoseok is too busy with his hands running down Seokjin’s broad back. Fingers dancing down his spine, much like his body would in the dance studio. Whenever he had not to work late night shifts, when he had not to change apartments, towns and lives, always on the run from possible cops or government officials. At the same time using his hacker skills to fight the good fight. From the position you are in, legs wrapped around Yoongi’s waist and arms dangling over his shoulders, it takes you a while to understand who’s fucking who. Your eyes are mesmerized, watching as Seokjin prepares himself. His slightly crooked fingers pumping in and out of himself, hips relentlessly in their rhythm against Hoseok’s. Latter has an arm thrown over his eyes, teeth sinking down on his lower lip. You can see his restraint from blowing his load, just from being humped like that. It sets your own core on fire, once again effectively distracting you from Namjoon, who is seated behind you now, his lips kissing the other side of your neck. The one that Jimin has neglected, because Taehyung had demanded attention. Hip thrusting forward, from the sensitivity of your neck, Yoongi slips in. His hands that are curled around each of your hips, turn into a bruising grip. Or would have bruised if he had been present in the flesh. “Oh god….” he sinks his head, for his face to hide at your neck. Puffs of his hot breath spiking your arousal even more. It feels like a fix to you, the euphoria of their touches. Of the other’s close by. Of moans and hot words whispered between bodies, it is more. Your mind is blown with all the pleasure, with all the want and need. Lust is clouding your mind, but at this point you question the existence of yours. You surely must have lost it with what is happening around you. Yoongi has stilled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

However that is not your intention, you can’t sit still with him so deep inside of you. Stretching you nicely, filling you up like no one has ever before. It is strange. That you can feel him, that it is real to you. That his cock makes you shake and gasp for air on top of him. That you can tell Namjoon’s the one who’s pushing in a finger despite Yoongi’s cock already inside you. A high pitched moan escapes your lips, when he wiggles his finger in and bends it a little, touching something you’ve never had touched before. The sound that has left your lips is so downright sinful, that it has the other men stop in their motions to watch. Jeongguk groans against the side of Jimin’s face, his lips ghosting close to the latter’s mouth. “This is so freaking hot…..” he murmurs and is seconded by Taehyung. “Wish I could fuck her too….” he says, but grins when he wiggles his own fingers, that are knuckle deep in Jimin. Jimin’s voice is raw as he moans out, his hips moving to the pace set by Taehyung. “But I also want to fuck Jiminie….” he is smirking wickedly again, but it’s quickly wiped off and replaced with an “O” shape. Jeongguk’s thigh has somehow found itself between Taehyung’s legs. And it’s a stretch, it’s a fucking acrobatic trick in your eyes. How he keeps Jimin his lap, but also has Taehyung straddling him, who’s still knuckle deep in Jimin. But he makes it work and when he flexes his thigh, Taehyung’s head falls forward, forehead brushing against the curve of Jeongguk’s shoulder. “I could fuck noona and you hyung. And still have some left to give Namjoon-hyung.” sharing one mind has also sharing memories and an understanding for one another’s culture. Being South Korean Jeongguk uses the suffixes that are appropriate for your age and that of the other boys. It had been a little weird at the beginning, but you came to see it as a bond of trust and closeness to be called that. You didn’t use those words however, it didn’t feel right to you. And you’d never been raised to use them in the beginning. Jeongguk didn’t mind, you knew.

”Those are some big words, little one…” Namjoon is probably the only one who can still call Jeongguk little one. In the few months you have known Jeongguk by now, you found out he grew rapidly. Something that has bothered both Jimin and Yoongi, not that they would ever voice that out loud. You know for a fact and so do the others, that Jeongguk has a worshipping complex for Namjoon. Maybe it’s because he’s their leader of sorts, because he’s a federal agent – and that’s fucking hot as it is anyway – or because he’s so fucking smart. You can’t pick, because the youngest himself doesn’t seem to know really. But he blushes to the root of his hair, when Namjoon regards him with a hot stare. The want to offer some words, to be as effective with your words as Namjoon or Yoongi are is great. Howbeit the DJ has other plans with you and thrusts his hips upward, with Namjoon’s finger sliding out of you it causes a friction that has you almost screaming out in pleasure. The duo is not done with you though, oh no. Namjoon knows you like it rough, he knows you like to test your limits and go further, do more, experience intenser. So he uses a second finger to push alongside his first and the mint-haired man growls. You are so deep in the pleasure you are feeling and the way Namjoon and Yoongi light your insides on fire. That you almost forget about the other’s around you. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you need to blink a few times. Hazy with pleasure and drunk on the need for more, you take a bit of time.

And then you’re once again thrusting forward. Hoseok is holding onto Seokjin’s hips, who’s fucking himself down on Hoseok’s dick. You can see it slide in and out of Seokjin, making you swallow the saliva that’s being produced in your mouth like crazy. Hands splayed on Hoseok’s torso, the eldest racks his fingers down his chest. Making sure his nails are running over the hacker’s oversensitive nipples. If your neck was the sure way to fire up your core, it was his nipples for Hoseok. He likes his lovers playing with them licking and bitting at them. You could tell he wants to pierce them and increase the pleasure, but he’s hesitant and he hates needles. “B-Both…” Jimin’s words are broken whimpers, which catch your attention next. Almost unable to catch a glimpse of them the way you’re sitting. It has to be something incredibly pleasant, with the surges of it coursing through all of you. You still didn’t know how the whole mental connection worked. But by now all of you could say that one’s pleasure, could overtake everyone else’s if strong enough. So whatever Taehyung and Jeongguk were doing? It was pushing you, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin towards the edge of your pleasure. There were benefits and downsides to being with one another, without physically being with one another. On one hand, you didn’t need copious amounts of lube to smooth the way. You wouldn’t have to wash cum stains out of your bedding, from seven over eager dicks. And there was no chance of getting any illnesses or even be pregnant from the whole ordeal. Especially big perk is, no marks to hide under tons of concealer or scarfs in summer. On the other hand, you knew it wasn’t real sex, it was just the feeling of it. It was still you getting off, but it was without the hot touch of the other’s. It was different, knowing and convincingly being able to feel it. From actually feeling it. Also a downside was, to not being able to be with one another physically. You could not really feel their skin underneath yours. You could not feel the burn of Namjoon’s fingers and Yoongi’s member. Later on you would find another thing that you didn’t like.

Straying thoughts, that could dampen the pleasure you deserve, are not allowed in Namjoon’s books. So he pulls his fingers out of you and moves behind you. His big hands overlap Yoongi’s on your hips and with a thrust that sends you forward crashing into the shorter man. Which sends him on his back, awkwardly positioned on eye level with Jeongguk’s bum and the top of his head, brushing against Hoseok’s thigh. The american is balls deep inside of you, alongside Yoongi. It’s not the first time you’ve been double penetrated, but it’s the first time that the pleasure almost knocks you into unconsciousness. Your breathing stutters, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. His deep voice was whispering naughty words and sentences into your ear. “You feel so fucking good taking both of us. So tight and hot…” he smirks against the shell of your ear. Once more going for a bite to the cartilage, pulling a little. Curse words spilling from Yoongi’s lips at the position he is in now and the way he can feel Namjoon and you. Curse words, Seokjin would have given him an earful if he wasn’t taking Hoseok like he was born to do. To your side you can see that Jimin has been positioned on his knees, his lips around Jeongguk’s cock. Who’s head is thrown back and hand is curled tightly around orange strands of hair. Behind him Taehyung is thrusting his hips into the curve of Jimin’s ass. Long fingers are splayed over the eldest of their trio’s back.

Pressing down so hard,t hat if it had been reality, there would be finger shaped bruises along his back. With each thrust, Jimin’s body slides forward, taking in the youngest more and more. Until he gags and Jeongguk growls. By now it’s no longer Jimin bobbing his head, but the Korean young man fucking into the french man’s mouth. The erotic sight only spurs on their third party, to move his hips even faster. Moans and groans fill your ear and mind. Mushing into one another to form one big surge of pleasure. You don’t know where you begin and the other’s end. Not just encapsulating Namjoon and Yoongi, but meaning all of you. Feeling Hoseok’s pleasure, swapping places with Seokjin, then Jimin. At one point you’re in place of Jeongguk. And once you blink again, you find yourself behind Jimin. It’s insane and warped and you can feel your orgasm approaching like a fast train. Drugs the only thing you could ever describe this feeling to. The feeling of being out of your body, out of your mind and only a mess of sensory nerve endings. There is no way of describing the feeling of your orgasm hitting you. Nothing can compare to the pleasure that ignites you, fire like sensations spreading from your neurons. It’s lava that is burning through your veins, electricity replacing your muscles. It’s a knock out. You scream out your pleasure, know the others came just as you did, before you black out completely.

He is humming a soft song, his voice not even a whisper in it’s quietness. He doesn’t want to wake you, because he can feel your exhaustion. But he doesn’t want to leave you either. The other’s had to go back to their work and lives. Jeongguk had fallen asleep and therefore vanished to his room in Seoul. Taehyung’s lips had formed into a smirk and he had whispered something about a repeat, before leaving to pick his brother up from his part-time job. Yoongi’s work as the DJ for the night wasn’t over and he had to return to it. Cursing all of them for having him come in his pants and having to work. Seokjin only told him to always have spare clothing, because “as you see you might need it” while Hoseok had just told them, he’d sleep for the rest of his life. Which wasn’t true, he had to go to his actual day-time job and therefore needed hours of sleep anyway. Namjoon only leaving after making sure with Seokjin together, that someone would be there for you when you’d wake up. As you’d been ripped out of the connection with your orgasm induced unconsciousness. He felt that he had to be there for you. It was something he couldn’t explain, the wish to lay next to you and watch as your eyes flutter open. When your eyes indeed open, like the flutter of a butterflies wings, he watches you closely. His one arm is bend at the elbow underneath his head, the other lazily laying in between both your bodies. “You are beautiful” he breathes into the space between your lips, your faces mere inches away. If you had any energy left inside of you, you know it could have been more than a few lazy kisses.

But you are spent, even if it wasn’t physically draining. “I thought that was Jeongguk…” your lips forming into a small smile, dimples showing in each side of your cheek. They are not as deep as Namjoon’s – Jimin would like to try and drink tequila from them (and he knows there are a few other’s who would like to try too) – but he loves yours as much as he does Namjoon’s. Finger tracing along your cheek, to touch the crescent shaped indent. “He is…. but you are too…” he looks at you, memorizing every single dip and slope of your face. Notes the softness and roundness of the apples of your cheek. The natural arch of your eyebrows, that gave you a resting – judge stare. How your eyelashes were not as full as Taehyung’s, but just as long as his. He notices a mole close to your earlobe and faint baby hairs, that are so light of color that they almost blend with the curve of your jaw. Up close he can see the spark in your eyes and the speckles of different colors merging into a spiral that has him fall down, down, down. He’s mesmerized, he is enchanted and cursed all at the same time. He wants you, as much as he wants the other’s. But there is distance between all of you, there is the silent threat of someone coming for your cluster. And his own problems piling up on him. Sunset hair swept to the side and curling slightly around the shell of his ear, is brushed right behind his ear by soft slender fingers. They curl around the side of his head, wrist pressed against his cheek. “We are connected now… we are one… and eight at the same time… We’re meant to find one another… and we will…” it’s whispered softly, more like soft breaths than actual words. Because as much as Jimin had been busy to study your features and admire you, you had been doing the exact same thing.

Your thumb is brushing against his silky soft hair, admiring how the strands fell and bent to your skin. “Do you ever wonder… how our lives would have gone on, without being connected? If we could have found one another and complimented one another… if not for this situation?” you have been thinking about it every single day. The fear of waking up and not feeling any of the others anymore. Of being all by yourself, of the silence in your mind. “I thought about it once” he admits, silence befalling both of you. He is sad, you can tell. Tendrils of his feelings bleeding into your own, mixing with the thoughts he doesn’t bother to lock away. He has thought about it and he has come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want to think about it ever again. His hands are bigger than yours, while still being smaller than the other guys. They are soft and smooth, as they slide your hand away from his face. Feather like, his fingers dance across your cheeks. Over the curve of your face, to slide down your jawline. His nails leaving a tingling sensation behind. You close your eyes automatically, while his body moves to hoover above you. His knees to each side of your hip cage you in, much like his hands are doing. He’s barely a hair width away from touching your nose with his, your breaths mingling and warmly puffed in between your lips. The sex from before is still fresh in your mind and while it had been intimate, this is different. It has your chest rise and fall in quick motion. Heart clenching at the weird feelings it stirs inside of you. It’s sad and yet feels so, so, so good.

He touches his lips to your’s. Different than the kisses you received up until now. Not quite a kiss, but the shy graze of plump lips to yours. The tip of his nose, brushing against the curve of your’s. His fingers moving further up and, follow the arch of your eyebrow. You open your eyes again, the sensation of his skin against yours, his breath mixing with yours, your breathing coming to a synchronic rhythm. It’s all too much and you find yourself almost gasping for air, to say his name. He smiles at you, it’s soft and unlike the blinding eye-smiles he gives all of you. It is filled with many things unsaid and many more you simply know, because they mix with your very own thoughts and once more cause a feeling of endlessness. You don’t know where you begin and where he ends. It is so much deeper than any bodily connection could go. He licks over his dry lips, the tip of his tongue almost touching the seam of your lips. Rosy lips falling apart for him. He is fascinated by it, has his thumb dance across the edge of your lips. Dipping into your mouth, tongue meeting him halfway and sliding over the pad of his thumb. Pulling it back, the skin of your lip dipping with the slight pressure he applies. You are naked and so is he. He gathers both of your wrists in one of his hands and gently guides them over your head. You follow his motion, your body curving with the motion. Chest brushing against his. Supple breasts meeting a gym hardened chest. “Keep them there…” you have never heard his voice like that. It is unlike his usually angelic voice. Reminding you of hot chocolate dripping over fingers and lips. Instantly invoking the wish to melt into him, to be filled with him. He trails a path of kisses down your neck and chest. His tongue sliding over soft skin, leaving a rapidly cooling trail behind. All of it is not happening in reality. In reality you’re bending your own body like a cat, stretching and holding onto the headboard for no apparent reason. In reality you are alone and for anyone watching, you could be having a very nice dream. However you no longer lived in reality by itself, you were no longer just part of the world out there. His tongue brushed against one of your nipples, your lips parting. Head lolling to the side, your own breath brushing against your arm in tingling wisps. “J-Jimin….” it’s a stutter of his name, not even really knowing what you want to tell him, it’s all you can think of. By now his orange hear has crossed the plane of your quivering stomach, hands resting on your thighs.

Before you can say his name again, he slowly sinks down his head. The pressure on your knees keeps them apart and open for him. He licks his lips once more. And then they’re touching your core, his tongue sliding over your folds which are slick from the sensual ministrations before. You still have your hands firmly curled around the headboard. But your thighs are shaking and the muscles in your abdomen jump at the touch of his tongue to your clit. He is careful and slow with his tongue, teeth only grazing your flesh to rile you up. It works. You moan and pant in a matter of seconds, really. Lips closing around your clit he sucks and you arch your body off the bed. Almost ready to burry your hands in his hair and press him down to rut your hips against his lips. But you don’t, you want to know what is coming for you, you want to see the lover Jimin is. To the edge he teases you, until he can tell just from sensing your pleasure, that you’re about to come. He pulls away and you can’t help the sound of protest that crosses your lips and mingles with the shifting sounds of sheets and limbs. On his knees, his hands curl around your calves and pull you forward. Your right leg he places up and over his shoulder. While the other is splayed lazily over his thigh. “Make those pretty noises for me…” it’s not a question. He thrusts into you. Head falling back and lips parted to release a loud moan, you are the perfect painting for him. If he could capture that moment, he would have. The way you feel tight around him, wet and warm has him almost lose his patience. A start up of a slow rhythm, his hips meeting yours almost like a dance. He was thicker than Yoongi, but also shorter. However his hips met yours perfectly and the grind of his pelvic bone against your pulsing core is oh so delicious.

It’s a slow rhythm, savoring. Like a fine wine swirled in a glass, like the best part of a meal spared for last. He doesn’t want to end it just yet. But you can barely hold onto your sanity with the slow grind of him against and in you. Knowing that, his fingers trailed down your stomach, causing once again for your muscles to jump and a gasp to replace the occasional moan and panting sound of yours. His fingers in combination with his slow grind has you almost loosing your mind. It’s different than the overwhelming pleasure of all of you combined. This is intimate in the same way and yet feels completely different. You can’t pin point it, but you don’t want it to end. A small twist of his hips and his cock presses up against that one spot inside of you. It’s like fireworks, exploding behind your closed eyelids. Wondering briefly when you’d closed your eyes again, you have no time but to scream his name in pleasure. Plead him to give you more, to do it again. And he complies. He hits that spot of yours with each languid thrust. Until you’re reduced to a babbling, pleasure filled mess. And then he pulls out completely, just to slam in with a final thrust that sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Makes you gasp for air and let go of the headboard. In favor of pulling him down and kissing him. A chain reaction, causing him to follow you into his own orgasm. He spills his seed, but it never ends up inside of you. Once the connection is broken, for the world outside to connect to your mind, he would find himself back in his bed. And you would find yourself alone in your apartment. But you savor those few moments that you have. Kissing him and holding him. Until both of you have to part, his cellphone pulling him away from you, as it rings and signals for him that his workday is about to start.

Jimin finds himself looking up at his ceiling, the warmth of your body lingering around him. He can still hear your sweet voice in his ear, can still smell your scent with him. But he can also feel his cooling cum on his skin and groans as he moves up from his bed. Being a sensate came with a lot of perks and a lot of downsides. Gathering some clothes and towels in his arms, his feet carry him towards the bathroom. Turning on the warm water, he leaves the clothes on the sideboard in the bathroom. Climbing into the shower, he closes the glass doors, that turn milky upon closing. His smile is small and a little on the shy side, when he thinks to himself. That /Yes there were downsides to the whole sensate thing. But they could never overshadow the good sides of being a sensate. They could never darken his view on the magnificent human beings, that share a mind and heart with him. No… Park Jimin finds himself slowly accepting who he is, slowly beginning to understand his own worth. And what if he can’t love himself at that exact moment, to love everyone else? Eventually he will get there, eventually one day. He will love himself, as much as he loves every single one of his eight comrades. But for now he’s content to know that each of them is alive, each of them is breathing and living. And they need him as much as he needs them. For now Park Jimin relaxes in his shower, squirts some raspberry and vanilla scented body wash on his sponge and scrubs away the remnants of the night. He thinks of talking to Namjoon and Seokjin later, seeing if he can get Yoongi on board to. After all the four of them had steady and well paying jobs. Maybe they could help out Taehyunng, support you and Jeongguk. Hoseok surely wouldn’t need their financial support, whatever work he was doing currently paid enough for him to live comfortably for now. Jimin wants to help and as he’s drying up his body from the relaxing hot shower, he makes some more plans he’d like to follow up on. Wants to help more actively than he has before.

Picture Perfect Memories

*click through to read on ao3

written by: @bellamyfrecklefaceblake | Meghan

prompt: au based on Need You Now by Lady Antebellum for @startwithbaellamyblake

word count: 2358

SATURDAY, 1:07 AM- CLARKE

She’d ripped through her apartment for almost twenty minutes before she found the envelope of pictures she was looking for. Now, she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor with a glass of wine in her hand, surrounded by pictures of Bellamy.

Some were just pictures of him that she had taken when they were alone—quiet moments where his head is in a book, him cooking in her kitchen, or sleeping in his bed. Others were of the two of them—kissing, laughing, cuddling. Happy. There were a few of the whole group, but even in those pictures, Bellamy was the focus. Bellamy was always the focus.

She printed them out four months ago because she was going to make a collage with them and since neither of them were exceptionally present on social media, they weren’t anywhere but on her phone or her computer. She wanted some for frames and scrapbooks she’d plan out but never make. She just wanted to look at him whenever she could.

She still did. Even though they’d been broken up for two months and hadn’t spoken in 42 days. Forty-two days. It felt like a lifetime since he called her and she begged him not to do it again—not if they weren’t going to move past what ripped them apart in the first place. She was broken without hearing his voice. When he called about a shirt he might have left at her place or to ask if she’d talked to Octavia recently, she shattered completely. And all she could do was look at his face—still the background on her phone at that point—and cry.

And she was crying now, too.

Keep reading

So once again I find myself at the station. At the platforms edge, well out of the reach of any wannabe hero looking for their moment.

The faint sound of motorized steel can be heard from within the tunnel, and I draw a deep breath at its sound despite the cold. Brief gratitude for the numbness that the cold brings enters my mind, before an announcement of the trains arrival over the speakers draws my attention to the tracks exiting the tunnel.

A slowly growing light comes into view. As it approaches I can’t help but smirk at the irony. I turn my gaze to my feet, tucked neatly in place on the footplate of my wheelchair between the two small front wheels either side. Inches away from a media-worthy accident, but not quite certain death. Yet.

My hands move to the sides of the chair almost naturally, gripping the wheel frame, probably a little too tightly. I hear a voice calling out in my direction. I turn my head to the side, and see a man in fluorescent yellow walking swiftly towards me, motioning me towards him with an outstretched hand.

I hear more than I see the train as it whistles out of the tunnel, still at bone-breaking speed. I whip my head back to the tracks in front of me, and clamp my eyes shut. My already aching hands grip the wheels tighter. It’s now or never.

The train screeches past me, carriage after thundering carriage, until it comes to a stop. I open my eyes as the carriage doors slide open in front of me. People hurriedly getting out give me strange looks as they part around me.

A firm hand clapping me on the shoulder draws me back to my senses, and I look up at the man in fluorescent yellow smiling uncertainly down at me. “Bit close to the edge don’t you think?” I look down and see a boarding plank under his arm. He looks down “Yes, I noticed there was a bit of a gap between the platform and carriage. Can’t have you falling onto the tracks now.” I look back up into his kind face. “Thank you. Sorry about that.” The man nods, and waits for the doors to be clear before placing down the plank. He helps me over the plank, and I realize I’m still gripping my wheelchair far too tightly.

Once in the carriage, I turn and face the opened doors. The man in fluorescent yellow smiles, nods, and walks away as the doors shut. I look down into my lap where my hands are now resting, creased with lines from where I had been holding onto the wheels too hard. I smile to myself as the whistle blows, and the train jerks forward. Once again proving that I am still the bravest coward I know.


- The Mighty / (untitled)

anonymous asked:

Hello! i love your blog, it's so amazing :D Can I please request the RFA + Saeran + V reactions if they're out with MC and MC is scouted to be an idol?? Thank youu~

Yoosung

  • oH MY GOD MC FOR REAL?
  • he’s overwhelmingly happy but also lowkey nervous
  • he is dating a soon-to-be idol. 
  • he is dating a soon-to-be idol and his current biggest achievement is his LOLOL rank
  • still, after the initial surprise passes, he decides that he’ll just try harder to get better grades and cheer for MC
  • talks so much about MC and how his lover got scouted to become an idol 
  • always wants to know about the whole thing, and likes to sit next to MC to listen to their plans
  • he’s just. so happy to see MC shine?? like MC deserves all the spotlights and he is so overjoyed to see MC getting recognition
  • sure, when he realizes that other people will be cheering for MC, calling MC cute and other… less pretty things, he has to clutch his pillow and bite down his tongue to avoid thinking about it more
  • but when MC is home, where he is the only one for them, he doesn’t mind those thoughts

Jaehee

  • internal conflict Time
  • she’s told herself so many times idols shouldn’t date publicly  
  • but now she’s dating MC, who is. an idol
  • honestly, she just fears she’ll ruin MC’s career
  • she can just see them, headlines calling MC desperate for dating a simple and boring woman like herself-
  • MC has to put a stop to her train of thought
    • “What if I cause a scandal for you?”
  • MC talks with Jaehee about it, assuring her nothing bad will happen
    • If anything, the media will love you more than me! Honestly, you’re so cute I wouldn’t be surprised if you got scouted too!”
  • MC sounds so sure when telling Jaehee nothing will happen
  • it honestly really helps her
  • and now she’s free to fangirl
  • can she pre-order MC merch now or when can she start stocking up-

Zen

  • oh!!!
  • OH!!
  • This!! This is great!!
  • He hugs MC and lifts them off the floor when MC tells him
    • “Babe! This is amazing! I’m so proud!”
  • He honestly can’t wait to see MC shining on-stage
  • he loves being in the stage, and imagining MC feeling that kind of joy while beaming a smile, with the spotlight on them
  • yes this is perfect
  • he signs and dances too-
  • would it be too farfetched to imagine maybe he and MC could perform together once?
  • also they’re everyone’s OTP because they are famous and an adorable couple
  • he is always giving MC tips he’s picked up with the years for when they have stage fright or something like that

Jumin

  • he’s never been big into the idol industry, in all honesty
  • but he can clearly see this is a big deal for MC
  • and this is a big deal to him too
  • he’ll try to get C&R to sponsor MC
  • he really dislikes the idea of people drooling over MC and calling them nicknames, though
  • he’s seen how Jaehee acts towards Zen. will there be people with MC photos in their houses? will people frame photos of MC? … he just won’t think about that. forget about that completely, ignore that, and focus only on MC
  • also, when the media tries to imply MC got scouted only because of Jumin’s influence, he’s quick as thunder to shut those rumors down
  • or maybe shut the whole news outlet down, if he’s really feeling angry at them

707

  • oooooooh boy
  • on one hand he’s amazingly happy
    • by that I mean probably typing in all caps with “YEAH!!” in the chatroom and in general being super happy for MC
  • And on the other hand he has Existential Crisis
    • like… he knows that when he passes there will probably be little to no trace he existed. even if he stopped everything shady he is doing and decided to live a normal life
    • he is just invisible. literally nothing left when he is gone
    • and MC is now going to probably be immortalized on people’s minds??
  • he doesn’t really know what to do with those thoughts. he never says them out-loud and tries his best to just meme them out of his system
  • still, MC notices, and quickly talks with him
  • by the end, Seven really feels better
    • who cares if the world doesn’t remember him when he’s gone?? like ok cool whatever he has MC right now when he’s alive. existential crisis? more like existential bye-sis
  • makes a triper bot for MC too 
  • also spreads MC’s name the same way he did with Zen’s, effectively drawing attention to MC’s debut

Unknown


  • so many people will be looking at MC
  • loving MC
  • he really needs to think for a while
  • he trusts MC with his life, but he can’t help but think MC is too good for him
  • MC deserves a life of glitz and glamour and he just feels like he clearly doesn’t fit in that kind of life
  • he’s scared MC will find out they enjoy being onstage more than being with him
  • what if they leave.
  • what if they leave
  • honestly, MC had thought beforehand Saeran might feel like that; and before his thoughts could spiral out of control, made it clear that they’d much rather lose their status as an idol than dream of leaving saeran
  • since he has trouble with crowds, MC gets him seats that are considered premium and away from all the crowd, but still have amazing view, so he can watch their debut
  • he sees MC being so happy he can’t help but smile through the whole thing

V

  • he’s really happy
  • like really
  • supportive af
  • this man loves MC to death, anything MC accomplishes is The Best Thing Ever to him
  • keeps going on about how MC is amazing, how they worked hard and all that jazz
  • he’s just really proud and happy for MC
  • also, he really wants to photograph MC in their debut, so MC talks with the people organizing everything
  • people are honestly baffled- it’s rising star MC’s debut, and the widely-known photograph V is taking the photos???? the V?? with MC??
  • The debut is really nice and goes amazing
  • but damn V’s photos made it look greater
  • it was as if he had captured the glow of MC’s happiness and the cheering of the crowd in a photo somehow??? how???
  • overall he is Supportive and Proud and really really happy to see MC achieving so much bless him
Peeta (HOLIDAYish? Peter Parker One Shot)

Request: None

A/N: Hey, everyone! I decided to take a little break from requests and do an imagine/one shot that I’ve come up with myself! So if you want a part 2 (which is very very holiday focused) let me know! Or maybe one from Peter’s point of view? It only seemed fit to write this first because it’s the holidays so why not have some holiday Peter feels? Also I think this situation would be set before or at the beginning stages of Peter gaining powers and becoming Spider-Man. I don’t think he would need caffeine or even have the time to sit down and do his homework in a coffee shop once he’s Spidey. Just wanted to state that lool anyways, hope you enjoy! ;)

Summary: Peter is a regular at your Starbucks and you are a regular part-time barista.

Warnings: None other than the fact that it’s kinda long? I don’t know, it’s been a while since I wrote. Also its pretty cheesy and fluffy.

Originally posted by gounderoos

Masterlist | Prompts | Send me a Request

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You Must Be The Roomie [Otayuri]

Summary: AU where Yuri Plisetsky is a 19 year old social media star/dancer and is at college, and his roommate is in a band with Otabek Altin, who Yuri can’t help but pine over.

Keep in mind: this fic follows the idea of yuri acting like a punk ass douche bag, but hes actually kinda shy and smol (especially around otabek). Otabek is a bit of a sarcastic lil shit in this, and definitely the dom lol

Part: one of ?? [find part two here] [find part three here]

i follow back (unless you’re a porn blog)


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