stop making it so easy


Everyone’s congratulating PBG for his upset outburst towards Jontron, but nobody’s congratulating him for apologizing for it after and showing political disagreements shouldn’t be what destroys friendships.
I have a lot more respect for him because of this and he deserves more credit for it imo.


Clexa AU - Clarke and Lexa are paired together after Kane’s orders and they have to share the same room/bed.

A request from @celebritiesandmovies


Wow, I didn’t think the last doodle of my forces oc would get so many notes! It makes me really happy to know that people like her <3

I’ve updated her a little bits with blue shorts instead of bike shorts, and she’s got a name now. Assuming we’re allowed to name our characters in forces, she’s Rudey the Rabbit!

anonymous asked:

Unpopular fandom opinion that I think you'll agree with based on your fics. Iwaizumi is not always pissed off with Oikawa. Iwaizumi is not abusive towards Oikawa. They have a very close and long lasting friendship. Why would either of them stay together if their friendship was that toxic


I am so, so, so tired of all the joke posts and memes about how Iwaizumi wants to stomp on Oikawa, hit him, yell at him or just generally abuse him in other ways. Yes, okay, maybe a few of these were once “funny” in the very beginning of the fandom but it’s gotten to the point where Iwaizumi is mischaracterized as this brute and Oikawa is mischaracterized as this annoying brat. It’s not just a single joke, or here or there - it almost seems like some people just accept this as how their relationship is supposed to be?

Somehow their relationship (although in canon is described literally as perfect trust) is being portrayed as this disgusting, toxic, abusive relationship and I hate it! If their relationship were really so toxic there would be no reason for them to stay together at all.

send me unpopular opinions


School’s been stressing me out a bit, so I thought I’d make time for myself to make something delicious.

I got inspiration from chef Deuki Hong’s video he did with Munchies, where he shows off his fried rice that’s not complicated and easy to make drunk! I’ve stopped drinking though, so the last part doesn’t apply to me.

You can watch the video by chef Hong, and how I went about making the kimchi fried rice at the jump. Check it out!

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If you’re trying to develop a regular writing schedule, but find yourself staring at the screen for hours before you manage to type a single word–if you manage to type anything at all–end each writing session at a place where you know exactly what will happen next.

Take the time to figure out where your story’s going, and how it’s going to get there, before you call it quits for the day.

A lot of productivity is based on momentum. It’s easier to keep going than to start from a dead stop. So if you start each day with something easy, a continuation of the previous day’s work, moving forward with your story will become a much less arduous task. You might even LOOK FORWARD to sitting down at your desk and getting to work.

It may be tempting to stop writing at a place where your brain has run out of words and you’ve put everything you’ve got on the page, but eating an entire cake in one sitting sometimes seems pretty tempting too, and it’s just as bad an idea. Stopping where it’s easy to stop makes getting started the next day So. Much. More. Difficult.

Save some of your cake for tomorrow. Future you will appreciate it.

And if you save a particularly delicious scene to write for tomorrow, future you will REALLY appreciate it.

anonymous asked:

writing prompt: shiro fainting because he stood up too fast

The briefing had been going on forever.

That was understandable. Necessary, even. This mission had been complex, with more moving parts than Shiro had been comfortable relying on. Somehow, they’d managed to pull it off without too many problems. The Red Lion was going to need some downtime to repair and Hunk was probably going to have a real shiner tomorrow, but it had gone well. For once.

Pidge explained her part as quickly as she could, which wasn’t all that quick. There had been hacking, infiltrating, information gathering, spying - all the stuff she enjoyed doing on missions, but right now she didn’t want to talk about it, for once. She wanted to go face plant on the nearest flat surface. And she wasn’t the only one. They were all visibly flagging, and even Shiro’s attention was wavering.

Finally, Allura nodded to them all. “I think that’s all we need to know for now. Coran and I will get to work on plotting our next course. You’re free to go.”

Lance let out a thankful groan and flopped forward, head on the table. “Good. I think I’ve been seeing double since the firefight. My eyes will never uncross.”

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True Paradise (Saeran/MC)

I can’t breathe.


Actually, I can.

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

What was I thinking?

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

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

But… this is strange.

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

It’s too late.

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

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

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

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

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


This one’s different.

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

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

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

I’m losing myself. How?

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

I like it.

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

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


Lips on skin. A kiss.

Teeth sinking in. A bite.

Hands stroking my cheek. My hair.

Thumb swiping my bottom lip.

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

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

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

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

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

Do you want me to die? Just say so.

You can kill me right here, right now.

“Hold me.”

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

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

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

My brain stops working. Lack of oxygen.

I let her guide my other, free hand.

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

She moves. I gasp.

She moves. I stop breathing for some moment.

She moves. I die a little inside.

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

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

I’m dizzy. The world is spinning.

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

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

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

No. Scratch that.

I don’t even want her to stop.

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

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

I scream.

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

I can’t do this anymore.

Sweating, panting, my vision turns blurry.

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

I’m dead.


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

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

At least I think it does.

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

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

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

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

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

“Well hello there, night owl.”

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

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

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

“I’m not your body pillow, woman.”

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

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

“No. You can’t.”

“Very well, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not you.”

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

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

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

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

She blows another smoke.

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

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

“I just want to sleep.” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what about her?

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

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

Does that mean… this is a paradise?

“Feel sleepy now?”

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

Is this what true paradise feels like?

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

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

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

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

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

Now that everything’s clear…

I’m asleep for real.

The End

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

Practice Over Studying (Part 3) - Namjoon x Reader (smut)

thanks everyone who read it and I hope you liked it :) please don’t be shy to send me a message or anything. Everyone’s welcome ^.^

Group : BTS

Member : Kim Namjoon

Genre : Enemies With Benefits!AU (lol), School!AU, smut, fingering

Rated : M

Word Count : 3800 

Description : Getting tutor lessons because you’re falling behind in Sex Education? Alright. Getting tutor lessons from a classmate? Fine. Getting it from  Kim Namjoon? HELL NO. But exactly he was the one your teacher had teamed you up with and you have no choice but going through several tutor hours with your arch enemy. The worse thing? It’s about Sex Education and soon you both find out, that hands-on training is much more effective than reading and looking at pictures…

A/N : This chapter is less about studying but more about… well, you know. Might also be a little bit fluffy. I wouldn’t call it fluffy but it’s definitely not 110% smut anymore. 

previouspart II | part I


Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

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anonymous asked:

Hey uhmm If you're not taking request or ships or any of that and people send you stuff... just ignore it and do them when and if you have time etc obviously only if you want to Stop making drama it's so easy to ignore it Just saying

Yeah, here’s the thing, sweetie pie: Writers make a point of calling out abusive anons such as the ones I’ve been getting for a reason. Trust me, if I posted every single ask I get that doesn’t follow my rules or sounded rude and entitled and didn’t ignore it, that’d be 90% of my blog. So don’t tell me how to run my blog, or how to deal with followers that don’t participate in events and don’t follow my rules. Do you know how many rude and abusive messages I receive that I don’t post or even address? Thanks for the advice, it’s SO helpful.

Edmund x Reader: Finishing Things

Anonymous asked: Hey! Can I get an Edmund one-shot where the reader keeps finishing Edmund’s sentences and beating him at everyday things and he doesn’t realize that she’s doing it on purpose to see how far she can get before he gets upset.


Anonymous asked: could you do a modern au where the reader and Edmund are both in their school’s band and are really competitive but secretly like each other? I love your works btw :)


Edmund twirled his drumstick in between his fingers lazily. The teacher’s voice droned in the background. He blanked out until he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He glared at the girl beside him before sitting up.

(Y/n) glared at him and mouthed, “Pay attention.”

“I am,” he whispered. “Unlike you, I can be amazing without ever taking notes.”

“Wanna bet?” She challenged.

He smirked and leaned over to avoid being caught by the teacher. “Another competition? You sure you want to start this up again?”

“It never ended, Pevensie.”

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anonymous asked:

I know there are friendly muslims but will they really give in to the call of terrorism? Do we really have to expel all Muslims in our countries because of their religion? A lot of kids here in tumblr say we should blame ISIS & not Islam as a whole. Is #NotAllMuslims really true? Others are dismissive of such questions & just say "fuck Islam". I really do wanna know the objective truth.

Will friendly Muslims give into the call of terrorism? How else do you think terrorists are created? The translation of Islam is ‘submission.’ There are over 100 Jihadi verses in the Quran about war on non-believers and many more throughout the Hadith, they prove Muhammad was a bloodthirsty warlord hellbent on domination. It’s no wonder two thirds of British Muslims say they wouldn’t alert police if another Muslim joined ISIS, one in four British Muslims want British law replaced with Sharia law, one in four British Muslims say terrorism is justifiable, 100,000 British Muslims sympathize with suicide bombers, over thirty percent of British Muslims believe violence against anyone who mocks the Prophet is justified, half of British Muslims believe homosexuality should be illegal, forty percent believe wives should submit to their husband and five percent agree with stoning cheaters to death. These are moderate Muslims living in Britain. These are the ones telling us that it is Islamophobic to even talk about this and how afraid they are and what victims they are whenever Islam is mentioned in a non-agreeable way. Nobody is saying “all Muslims” but to deny there is no link between Islam and terrorism is the grossest lie we’ve possibly ever been exposed to. 

We have British mosques literally beating propaganda into Muslim children, teaching them “the disbelievers are the worst creatures,“ “they face torture in the afterlife if they adopt western customs” and to “never trust a person who has less than a fistful of beard.” British Islamic private schools are teaching pupils that British customs are anti-Muslim, intent on “poisoning the thinking and minds“ of Muslims and calls on their students to “expend even life to create a world organized according to Allah’s just order.” We have Muslims deliberately putting themselves into prison to radicalize and recruit other inmates and a review into Islamist extremism in the British justice system has found that “cultural sensitivity” towards Muslim prisoners is preventing staff “challenging unacceptable extremist behaviour and views”. We have 850 UK-linked individuals who have traveled to join ISIS in Syrian since 2014 and half of them have been welcomed back into the country and have faced no punishment or isolation from the rest of the population, the Manchester bomber is the perfect example of welcoming back terror suspects from terror-riddled Islamic countries, even his own mosque has come out to declare, “the attack was merely a response to the war against Islam.” 

We have police who have become too scared to investigate Muslim human trafficking and child rape rings in the UK, have become too afraid to make public the mass sexual violent attacks and the details of massacres committed by Muslims across Europe, they have even become afraid to report their fellow officers who express radical Muslim beliefs. Teachers are afraid to alert authorities when their Muslim students show warning signs of becoming radicalized. Prison guards are allowing Islamic extremist literature, they aren’t searching Muslim prisoners, they are told to leave the room when Muslim prisoners are gathered. Almost half of all British high-security prisons are Muslim prisoners despite making up just 5 percent of the British population. Ex-inmates have testified in court that British prisons are being run like “jihadi training camps.” 

This is why it’s getting us nowhere by saying not all Muslims because all it’s doing is stopping us from talking about and preventing the hundreds of thousands of examples of Islamic radicalization that’s going on right in front of us in the UK alone but is currently being ignored and dismissed because “not all Muslims” and because it’s Islamophobic to talk about anything that involves Islam or Muslims, regardless of how dangerous and truthful it is. Even moderate Muslims consider this blasphemy and do not allow it so instead of cutting hands off they instead play on liberal hearts and say it hurts them and it creates terrorism when we say anything negative about the facts of Islam or the Islamic radicalization so then we make laws against it and arrest people from their homes who talk negatively about Islam on social media. 

We don’t want every Muslim removed from the country, we know not every Muslim hold these views but tens of thousands do in the United Kingdom alone and we have to start talking about the consequences and how to at least limit them if we can’t stop them. We want strict policies implemented within our schools, policing, surveillance and investigation, our prisons and Islamic communities and immigration. If moderate Muslims really wanted nothing to do with terrorism, they too would support every measure required to stop and prevent more terrorism but they don’t support it, they call it Islamophobia. 

We want terrorism to stop being welcomed into our countries, we want calls for prevention and protection to stop being called racist and we want a no-nonsense approach to those who show signs of radicalization or those who are on the police terror-watch list and we want to remove the stigma of reporting and alerting authorities when we notice something suspicious. We have to stop making it so easy for terrorists. Every time we say, “we will not change and we will carry on like nothing happened” is only telling them to “try harder next time” and only inviting more and more attacks and I find it incredibly disgusting and disrespectful to the victims of these attacks, we are telling them that we will move on like nothing happened, we refuse to learn from their deaths and we refuse to enact changes to make us safer and prevent this from happening again. It makes me sick, to be honest with you. 

You remind me of... something

Pairing: York/Carolina
Word count: 1,213
Prompt: @lostlegendaerie always encourages me to spread the Yorkalina love
Summary: Modern AU. York is trying desperately to be poetic, but Carolina eludes categorization.

York had spent many years being derisively called poet by North and did his level best to live up to the infamy. The actual poems came few and far between, and stayed hidden in a journal with a notice to burn it all when he died, but poetry was about more than that. It was a lifestyle, and naturally he had to drag Carolina into things.

Of course he would fall in love with a woman who defied categorization.

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