thanks for existing because the world looks so much brighter with you in them

“From what I’m told, it seems as though my parents wrapped me in a blanket and dropped me off in front of an infant home as soon as I was born. A worker there found me and I was raised in a welfare facility ever since. When I was seven, a bigger and older kid — I still recall his name — lifted me up and just smashed me against the bare ground. Not only that, but too many horrible things happened in that facility, such as child abuse, forced labor, confinement, assault, and rape. All of that was so painful, so much so that one early winter morning, with the snow piled high, I hid inside a water tank on the roof of the welfare facility for almost six hours, attempting to escape. You would think that when older boys beat up other kids, the teachers would stop them. But some of the teachers actually encouraged those boys to beat up the kids even more. Because of the miserable experiences at the welfare facility, I blamed my parents a lot; I denied my existence, questioning and thinking, ‘If they weren’t going to raise me, why was I even born…’ I took a bunch of antidepressants, some of which I’m still taking to this day. I sometimes thought of the extreme. You see, there are a lot of skyscrapers near Gangnam Station. So I had thoughts like… ‘What if I fall off the top of one of those buildings and brutally die? Would I fall on top of the cars, or the people?’ Nowadays, I’ve been trying to take better care of myself and look at the world with a brighter light. Negative thoughts breed more negative feelings, and those feelings, then, come out, and form negative actions and words. I used to blame my parents a lot, but I’d like to forgive them. I have no clue what led them to make such a decision but I don’t blame them anymore. Instead, I’m thankful that they brought me into the world, allowing me to see the good things about the world. I should live; it’s fun.“

“제가 태어나자마자 포대기로 싸서 영아원 정문 앞에 부모님이 두고 가셨나봐요. 거기 직원이 발견해서 그때부터 복지시설에서 생활했어요. 제가 7살 때 어떤 큰 형이, 지금도 이름이 생각나는데, 저를 들어서 맨바닥에 그냥 던졌어요. 그것 뿐만 아니라 아동학대, 강제노역, 감금, 폭행, 성추행 등 시설 안에서 안 좋은 일들이 너무 많이 일어났는데, 한 번은 너무 괴로워서 도망가려고 눈이 엄청 쌓여있는 추운 겨울 새벽에 복지시설 옥상 물탱크에서 대여섯 시간을 숨어있었던 적도 있어요. 선배 형이 누굴 때리면 선생님들이 말려야 되잖아요. 근데 어떤 선생님들은 옆에서 더 때리라고 시킬 정도였으니까요. 복지시설에서 불행했기 때문인지 어렸을 때는 사실 부모님 원망을 많이 했죠. ‘키우지 않을 거면 나를 왜 낳았을까…’하는 생각에 제 존재 자체를 부정하기도 했거든요. 우울증약도 많이 먹었고, 지금도 먹고 있는 약이 있을 정도니까요. 가끔은 극단적인 생각도 해봤어요. 강남역에 가면 고층빌딩이 많잖아요. 그런데서 잔인하게 떨어져 죽으면 어떨까, 차에 떨어질까, 아니면 사람들 위에 떨어질까 같은… 그래도 지금은, 다시 한 번 내 자신을 잘 다스리고 좀 더 긍정적으로 세상을 바라보려고 노력 하고 있어요. 너무 부정적으로 생각하면 부정이 부정을 낳고 그것이 행동으로, 말로 나오잖아요. 부모님도 예전에는 원망을 많이 했지만, 용서해드리고 싶어요. 비록 어떤 사연으로 저를 그렇게 하셨는지 모르지만 지금은 원망하지 않아요. 오히려 저를 낳아주셔서, 세상에 좋은 것들 볼 수 있게 해주어서 감사해요. 살아야죠. 사는 게 재밌으니까요.”


Originally posted by jeonsshi

Summary: The Red String of Fate exists, and like only someone people in the world, you have the rare ability to see them- to change them.

Genre: Soulmates!Jungkook + angst-ish, (im sorry)

Word count: 7.5k

A/N : Hello! So this my attempt at a Soulmates!AU kill me now. This took me ages but now that this is out of the way, I can go back to writing Part IV of Neighbours! I hope you enjoy! I might do a Part II of this if people would like!

Part II

You had never believed in God.

You had never believed in the people that clasped their hands and fingers together in intercession or supplication prayers to the benevolent man who lived amongst the stars and rose with the sunrise and pulled the pomegranate pink and orange glows of a sunset at the wake of every horizon.

You didn’t believe in the man who smiled in the spectrum of rainbows to waterfalls and auroras and stormed in hurricanes and devastation when he raged. You didn’t believe in anything or second any thoughts to anyone else other than fate.

You had come to believe so religiously and so profoundly in destiny solely because you were sure that God simply could not be so cruel to grant you the life you had. You believed in fate because it hated you, spited you and things that caused hate existed far better than the things that didn’t.

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anonymous asked:

Hi~~ could I request a seokmin au?? This is a weird soulmate au I made up where you can think really hard to make certain things appear close to your soulmate? Like flowers, maybe notes, food etc. Haha if you don't understand just let me know and I'll elaborate, thanks!!xx

- everyone meets their soulmate at some point in their life
- some people have timers to tell, some have matching tattoos, some have dreams
- you unfortunately got the weirdest one of all
- if you concentrate really hard, you’re able to make objects appear next to your soulmate
- you discovered this at fourteen years old; you were starting to feel nervous when no sign of you having a soulmate appeared
- you didn’t have a timer on your wrists, your eye color didn’t change, and you were able to see the world in color just fine
- you were starting to doubt you even had a soulmate
- you thought to yourself “if only i could send something to them to let them know i exist, like a post-it note or something saying that”
- and seconds later….. this little pink note appears next to you and it says “who sent that??”
- your eyes widen in surprise for a bit because your thoughts have been answered?? but…. how??
- you think really hard and say “who sent THAT??”
- and you get a note that says “…me?”
- you couldn’t believe what was happening—you were able to make actual items appear next your soulmate?? you’ve never heard of this one before
- you didn’t want to believe it until your soulmate sent you the peach-scented moisturizer you requested and well…… there you go
- you discovered his name was lee seokmin and honestly all he does is tease you or he sends you the worst things at the worst times
- like once you told him you got in trouble for falling asleep in class, and while you were getting yelled at by the teacher in the teacher’s lounge, seokmin sent you a ringing alarm clock like really seokmin REALLY
- you like to send him things like that as revenge, like when you sent him a two-liter bottle of water while he was waiting in line to pee
- unlike other soulmates, you and seokmin can easily meet up but….. you’re not ready at all…..
- you’re so scared of disappointing him, so scared that you won’t meet his expectations….
- because of this, you always refuse whenever he asks you if you want to meet up (and you couldn’t be happier that your soulmate thing has limits; neither of you can make yourself appear next to the other. it only works with objects thank goodness)
- but he completely understands, and he’s kind enough not to go against your words
- you work at a café, and you’re in charge of the cash register that day
- it’s a pretty busy shift like always, but sometime in the afternoon, this cute boy walks up to the counter and just charms you
- he has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen
- the second he smiled, you could swear the sun shone a little brighter, and your day immediately brightened
- you try not to think too much about it because NO WAY are you cheating on your soulmate and NO WAY are you stealing someone else’s
- after punching in his order, you ask him “can i have your name for your order please?”
- and he says
- “lee seokmin”
- your hand freezes before the tip of the pen could come in contact with the cup, and you stutter “i-i…. sorry, what did you say your name was?”
- the customer repeats “lee seokmin” and your hand visibly shakes as you write his name on the coffee cup
- you force a smile and tell him “take a seat, i’ll be sure to bring it to you”
- when “lee seokmin” sits at one of the tables, you run to your co-worker jeonghan and shake his arm while saying “JEONGHAN IT’S HIM”
- jeonghan, who’s fixing the pastries behind the display glass case, says “who’s him??”
- you whisper “my…. soulmate” and jeonghan stands straight and says “no way. where??” and you point over to your “soulmate” who’s sitting at the table near the window
- he asks “are you sure??” and your face falls as you say “well…. he has the same name as my soulmate so MAYBE he is??”
- your co-worker facepalms as he replies “(name), LOTS of people have the same name” and you say “right….. i just assumed he was because i panicked…. he’s probably just some other guy named lee seokmin”
- jeonghan says “hey, you can make things appear next to your soulmate, right?” and you say “yeah, why?”
- he nods his head in seokmin’s direction and says “you want to make sure it’s really him? make his coffee order appear on his table. then you’ll know” before disappearing to the back to get more pastries
- you run to the back and tell jeonghan “but i don’t know if i want to meet him yet?? plus i look horrible today!!!”
- jeonghan says “from what you’ve told me before, i think your soulmate’s waited long enough. and whether you look bad or not, it’s your soulmate. he’d love you no matter what”
- you slowly walk back to the front, and you look in seokmin’s direction to see that he’s playing on his phone
- you nervously walk over to the counter to pretend you’re working on his drink, while you’re really just trying to calm yourself down
- “am i really ready for this?” you ask yourself
- but you think….. jeonghan’s right. if he is my soulmate….. he’d love me for me
- you clench your fists, concentrating really hard on the empty space on this lee seokmin’s table, and after several seconds…..
- a cup of coffee appears right next to him
- seokmin jumps in surprise and looks into the cup, turning in your direction with wide eyes, and that’s when you panic
- you both just stare at each other with the same shocked face
- and thank goodness the café’s nearly empty because seokmin suddenly jumps out of his seat and runs to the counter screaming “(NAME)!! I’VE FOUND YOU!!”
- he grabs your hands and jumps up and down excitedly like a little kid screaming “I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO MEET YOU”
- you blush at words, screaming “SEOKMIN, WE JUST MET, DON’T START CONFESSING”
- you and seokmin turn around to see jeonghan holding a tray of newly-baked pastries
- your co-worker then tells you “you know what? (name), just go take the rest of the day off, i’ll handle it”
- you say “what?! but jeonghan—” but he cuts you off and says “no really, it’s fine. you’ve just met your meant-to-be, i’m sure seungcheol would understand”
- you thank jeonghan and rip your apron off to join seokmin on the other side of the counter
- he hugs you the second you reach him and you laugh as you wrap your arms around him too
- jeonghan teases “hey, take it outside”
- grinning, seokmin takes your hand and drags you out the door, and you turn to see jeonghan holding up a thumbs up while mouthing “good luck”
- and you just nod and mouth “thank you” before turning back to seokmin and hold onto his hand a little tighter

thank you for your request!! ^^

satanslilcherry  asked:

Hi! Today I'm feeling really bad about my body and stuff. Could you please write some hc about rfa+minor trio reacting to MC how's feeling like shit bc her father keeps bodyshaming her? Pretty please

Hey, I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling bad about your body. I hope these headcannons will make you feel a little better. I tried to keep this gender neutral and vary in body Imagine issues, because it’s not always about how big you are, I know some people are subconscious about how skinny they are, or if they don’t have an muscles. Also sorry these took so long, but I wanted to make each one as accurate as I could. 

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A Lesson in Love (The Honeymoon Phase)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4,126

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, I don’t know how this part got to be so long, but I hope you enjoy it 😊

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

Originally posted by sebjpeg

When you wake up the next morning, it’s fifteen minutes after your alarm first went off. As you rush around your room in an attempt to avoid being late to class, you scold yourself for staying up as late as you did. You knew you had to be up early and yet, that wasn’t enough to get you to sleep any sooner.  

What you don’t admit to yourself as you pull on a pair of tights and the first sweater you can get your hands on is that you didn’t deliberately stay up late. In fact, you were in bed by eleven thirty, face washed, teeth brushed and pajamas on. No problems arose until your head hit the pillow and you closed your eyes. That’s when every single thought you suppressed came tumbling out of the cage you locked them up in. And, similar to a wild animal that’s been kept holed up in one place for too long, those thoughts were wild and vicious once they were freed.

For hours you were tortured by their incessant need to remind you of a boy with sapphire eyes and a jawline whose sharpness could cause some fatal damage. How did this happen? How did these feelings for Bucky develop? How did he worm his way into your thoughts, your heart, without you knowing?

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anonymous asked:

Yo! I was wondering, how would the guys react to the soulmate au where the world is in black and white until they encounter their soulmate? No rush keep on keeping on friend.

It’s a day later than I was hoping to get this written, but it’s here! Part 2 is finished and includes Reinhardt, Zenyatta, Junkrat, Roadhog, and Lucio!

Part 1 is here 


- Reinhardt has wondered all his life who is soulmate is

- He looked for you wherever he went, but he never let his search consume his entire life like some people he knew did. He hoped that if you were soulmates then you were of the same mindset

- But if never stopped him from having dreams about meeting you. When he slept you met a thousand different ways but when he woke up he could never remember your face

- He found himself fighting in the Omnic Crisis, watching as soldier after soldier died. The Overwatch Strike Team helped, but Reinhardt’s shield could only stop so many bullets

- He started wondering if you’d know if something happened to you. Some people who hadn’t found their soulmate had reported getting a terrible feeling and knowing that their soulmate had died, but no one knows if it’s fact or not

- The Omnic Crisis ended and he never had that terrible feeling, but he never found you either

- A few years passed and the UN made a new Overwatch, and Jack might have been official face for it, but it was Rein who was the true face of Overwatch. Rein is the one who would go and visit kids in the hospital

- He tends to make these hospital trips in different places around the world after missions. After one such mission and hospital visit he was walking back to the hotel where the team was staying for the night when he heard a noise in a nearby alley

- He goes to investigate and fights some local teens beating up an omnic

- Reinhardt might have fought in the Omnic Crisis but the war is over and he protects everybody now. Have you seen how tall the guy is? You don’t want to fight someone that big especially when you know that he could kick your ass one handed. The teens run before he has to say more than a warning

- He goes over to the omnic “Are you already? Is there any way I can help you?” They ask him to help them up and he does. He offers to escort them wherever they need to go and and they accept

- It’s only after the two of them walk out of the dark alley does he notice that the world is now in color

- He stops, realizing what just happened and turns to the omnic a smile already appearing on his face

- You’re already looking up at him “You just realized? I thought that’s why you offered to escort me”

- He doesn’t know what to say, he’s so happy to finally find you. You’re a little worried that he might be opposed to having an omnic soulmate since he fought in the Crisis, but he doesn’t care

- He calls up Morrison the tell him that he’s taking a few personal days to get to know his soulmate

- The media goes crazy when they find out that one of the original Overwatch members has an omnic soulmate but neither of you care what the press thinks. Everyone in your life accepts Rein and everyone in his accepts you, and most importantly you accept each other


- One of the first questions the omnic monks thought of when they were struggling with the question of if they’re just machines or have a soul was the question of soulmates. Do they have them? If they did that would prove they have a soul but if they don’t that doesn’t prove that they don’t have souls

- But it’s a question the struggle with for a long time, even after they come to the conclusion that they do have souls

- Zenyatta struggles in particular because out of all the monks he has some of the closest contact with humans through Genji and other humans he interacts with.

- He doesn’t know how it would work, he and all other omnics are build with the ability to see the all the colors that humans do after they’ve found their soulmate, and some can see other parts of the light spectrum (Zen can see about ⅕ of the UV light spectrum). And yet some omnics say they have found their soulmate, sometimes another omnic and sometimes a human, but he has heard no word of how they know when they can already can see colors

- Eventually he joins Overwatch because they’re trying to help the world, human and omnic alike. He meets Genji’s soulmate (and the two get along fabulously, Genji almost regents introducing them)

- He’s only been on a few missions when they head to a town that was known for its excellent human/omnic relations. Not anymore, the town is half burst down by an anti-omnic group and there are wounded everywhere

- Zen and Mercy immediately start working on the wounded while Tracer, Genji, and the others make sure that the last members of the gang have gone

- He’s helping one of the injured, they have a hole in their thigh that won’t stop bleeding, when he takes their hand to comfort him while his orb of harmony does it’s work

- The moment he takes their hand he notices a shift in his vision

- The colors look the same as before, except that they don’t. They seem richer and brighter, more pure. He does a quick diagnosis on his visual sensors to see why the change has happened, but they are working the same as they always have

- He glances down at you, and you’re smiling up at him. He knows that smile, he’s seen it a dozen times when other people have found their… their soulmate. He thinks the word and can hardly believe it, he wasn’t even sure he had a soulmate but now you’re right in front of him

- “Hello” you say. You’re not sure what else you can say. You’ve heard stories of omnics and humans who have rejected their soulmate simply because they were an omnic or a human. You’ve not one of those, but you don’t know about this omnic holding your hand

- “Hello” he says back, still holding your hand. The pain in your leg is subsiding, thanks to the little floating ball. “I am Zenyatta. I’m very pleased to meet you”

- Your smile deepens “I’m very pleased to meet you as well, Zenyatta. I’m (name)”

- He keeps helping the other injured, and with your own wound healed you help where you can. After the chaos you find a quiet spot to talk. You end up going back with him to overwatch, you’ve been waiting to long to find your soulmate and you’re not about to let him out of your sight so soon after meeting him. Likewise, he doesn’t want to be far from you, he spent too long wondering if you even existed to leave you behind


- Jamison had only ever known life in the irradiated Outback

- He’s probably heard about soulmates but he doesn’t give his much thought. He’s got other things to think of, like his bombs and how to stay alive in the harsh landscape he lives in

- So the day a heist gets a little complicated and he gets tackled by a cop and the world suddenly bursts into color he doesn’t put the pieces together right away

- He doesn’t know the that you’re equally startled. But you both launch yourself away from each other, and he takes the opportunity to run

- He doesn’t realize what it means until he asks Roadhog, thinking it might be some kind of chemical weapon that’s making him hallucinate

- But Mako recognizes what Jamie is describing, and tells him that he just met his soulmate

- “You must be kidding, mate. It was a cop”

- Mako tells him that fate is funny like that and tends to choose the least likely person

- But from what he saw before the Omnic crisis, he never saw fate choose wrong

- Junkrat isn’t sure what to do with the information that his soulmate is a cop whose job is to arrest him

- Meanwhile, you’re not sure what to do either. Your soulmate is a wanted criminal and you’ve sworn an oath to uphold the law. You tell your superiors that the reason he got away after you tackled him was because he managed to land a blow to your head. Not a blow hard enough to injure you, just enough to make you let go. You’re not sure why you lied to them

- The Australian government has had enough of Junkrat and Roadhog and you’re still part of the team tasked with taking them down

- A couple weeks later your team catches up with them again. It’s just you and him in the alley behind the bank and you have your gun leveled at him. You could arrest him right now. It would mean the admiration of your peers, a promotion at work, and a pay raise to go along with it if you would just arrest him

- Instead you lower your gun and tell him that if he and Roadhog take the road heading east out of town they’lll meet with the least resistance. Before he leaves you ask him to punch you so you don’t make your superiors suspicious of letting him get away twice in a row

- The next thing you know you’re waking up with an EMT leaning over you checking to see if you’re seriously injured

- You also have a note in your coat pocket telling you to be under an abandoned railroad bridge on the opposite side of town in three days. There’s only one person it could be from

- You know it’s probably a bad idea but you go anyways. You can’t find it in yourself to give up on your soulmate without even properly meeting him

- He’s not what you had imagined. For one thing, he can hardly stand still and he’s so obviously nervous to meet you that you can’t help but smile. It only takes you a few minutes to realize that you’re already ready to do anything to protect him and the two of you start plotting

- You don’t leave the police yet, first you spend a couple months secretly sabotaging the investigation and destroying months of work

- Then you join him and Mako when they leave Australia and head to the mainland. It’s not the life you pictured for yourself, but neither is he and you wouldn’t trade your soulmate for anybody


- Mako found his soulmate when he was fairly young. He married them and they planned on starting a family

- But the Omnic Crisis happened and afterwards the Australian government gave part the Outback that contained to omnium to the omnics in the hope of fostering peace

- This included the part where Mako and his spouse lived. So Mako joined the Australian Liberation Front which ultimately resulted in the explosion that irradiated the Outback

- Mako’s spouse died in the resulting chaos and over time he adopted the Roadhog persona and left Mako behind

- He eventually started working for Junkrat and the two started their crime spree

- A couple of years later the two of them were walking through the wilderness when they came upon a small farmhouse outside a nearby town. The farmhouse had a well outside, which you were standing next too

- ”Well, well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Junkrat and Roadhog”  you say. They’re both immediately on alert because you recognize them and that usually means trouble

-Then you offer them some water and dinner and a place to stay the night

- It’s Junkrat who asks why you’d do such a thing

- “I heard about what you did to those ************************************ corporation goons in the city. Anyone who sticks it to the city folk is alright in my book”

- After hearing the very rude way you spoke of the ‘suits’ they decide that maybe you’re being serious, so they decide to take you up on the offer of dinner, but they don’t plan on spending the night. They’re not willing to take that risk

- It’s a simple fare you offer them, but it’s better than they’ve had in awhile (neither are very good cooks)

- After dinner Roadhog remembers what manners are and helps you taking the plates to kitchen. Your hands brush and it’s not a sudden burst of color, but more like they slowing got turned back on, more like the sun rising than a light switch being flipped

- But it still only takes a few seconds before you both are seeing in full color

- “Well this is a surprise” you say. “Didn’t think I’d ever be getting a second one”

- “Me either” is all he says

- You keep doing washing the dishes and he takes them to dry, the feeling of doing something so domestic feeling very foreign to him

- They end up staying the night. You offer to share your bed with Roadhog, and he accepts although nothing happens. It’s a stretch for both of you to be this close, you both have old wounds, and it would only hurt your chances at making this work if you did something on impulse

- He and Jamie stay for another day before on. You tell them to not be strangers and that they’re always welcome

- It only takes a month before they’re back on your doorstep. This time you and Mako talk about it (you even learn his real name). You still proceed with the relationship slowly, and you build trust over time. He shows up every month or two, sometimes with Jamie sometimes without, but he always comes.

- he doesn’t admit but it’s really nice to have a place to always head back to, a place that feels like home. Neither of you think of the other as a replacement for your lost soulmate, but what you have is good and you’ll both take it for as long as you can


- Lucio loves his mother very much but he sometimes wished that she’d stop trying to find his soulmate for him okay he wished it most of the time

- Most of the people she tried were mostly interested in trying because he was famous. Not all of them of course. Some were simply people trying to to find theirs and figured they might as well if he was it. But he never was and they both always walked away disappointed even if they hadn’t thought it likely that he was their soulmate

- But he keeps trying anyways because a) he can’t say no to his mother and b) she might just find them and he’d hate to miss them because he was being stubborn

- So when she calls him up and asks if he can make if for dinner the next night, he knows what’s coming but he says yes anyways

- When you meets you you refuse to shake his hand. “It’s nothing personal but I’m trying to get my mother to stop trying to find my soulmate for me”

- “I know how you feel”

- But since there aren’t many people at the dinner the two of you end up talking. Turns out you get along really well

- Dinner ends when Vishkar agents try and arrest Lucio but the two of you fight them off

- And once he realizes that you’re a really good fighter and that he thinks the two of you would actually be good friends he asks if you’d be interesting in joining his security team

- Actually, you’d be the security team. He hasn’t wanted to get one but he is famous and Vishkar is trying harder and harder to catch him, and if he has to get one it might as well be someone who he gets along with

- You accept

- It takes two months before you actually have physical contact. You punched a bounty hunter that was about to taze Lucio and he hugged you

- The world suddenly got a lot brighter

- You looked at each other, both your eyes wide. But try as you might you found you couldn’t actually mind having him for your soulmate, you were actually really glad he was. You were glad that your soulmate was also -literally- your best friend

- Judging from the smile on Lucio’s face he felt the same way

- “our parents are never going to let us live this down”

anonymous asked:

Are you able to combine 3 & 5 off the prompt list? Something along the lines of a flustered reader trying to maybe paint Bucky or something ! !! Love your writing !!

Hi there anon! Thanks for your request and of course I can! You’re too kind :) and I hope you enjoy it xxx

Prompts: 3) I’m seriously not that intimidating, I’m just very shy and I kinda like you. 5) You’re disrupting my creative thinking, fuck off!

How To Paint Your Dreamboat: For Dummies

“Will you just, good christ, just – hold still.” Comes your grunted plea as you continue your half-assed cat-fight with the man sitting before you.

“God you’re worse than Steve,” Bucky mumbles under his breath with a lazy eye roll. 

You stop trying to unsuccessfully manhandle Bucky into what should be a natural sitting position in the big fancy chair you snagged from Stark Tower’s rarely never used, obnoxiously luxurious, formal dining room/floor. Your eyes narrow as they slowly meet Bucky’s, when your gazes connect the both of you stare each other down and deliver your professional in-field-only death glares. 

Bucky’s glare eventually wins out (it always does, curse that Winter Soldier edge he has) and you blink in a flurry while looking down, recovering from your defeat. Your cheeks pink a little as you fumble your hands away from his shoulders you were desperately trying to position. As you give up on Bucky and retreat back behind the safe wall of your blank canvas and easel, you hear a sigh. 

“Why do you wanna paint me anyway? S’not like there’s much to capture,” Barnes’ self-loathing voice drifts to you through the canvas you’re hiding behind and pretending to prep, penetrating your pathetic makeshift barrier allowing you no mercy from the overwhelming feeling you get when you’re near Bucky.

You bite your lip while loudly scooting the stool you’re sitting on more at an angle so you have a clear view of Bucky. As an excuse to stay silent a little longer and delay a response you don’t have, you spend way more time than necessary setting the easel stand accordingly too. 

“It’s, well, I – its for…science.” Is the eventual explanation you come up with; you cringe at your words even as you speak them. 

Natasha would be so very disappointed in your lying abilities at the moment, some spy you’d make indeed. 

With baited breath you watch Bucky out of the corner of your eye discreetly as you pick up and fiddle with your paint pallet, pretending to be determining which colors to mix first, one of your paint brushes twirling nervously in your other hand. Bucky stares hard at you, thoughts coded and unreadable flipping like a slideshow through the projector of his irises. Panic and guilt set in when you catch Bucky’s shoulders sagging in a weird defeat, like some type of disturbingly familiar internal surrender is happening as his chin dips down, a frown yanking the corners of that generous mouth low to be partnered with terribly cinched eyebrows. 

You gasp silently when you realize that he probably thinks you really meant for science. He was – is – a science experiment. You’re heart collapses in on itself and stinging acid shoots through your veins to fill and burn your stomach. You almost drop the pallet and brush in your shaking hands as you lurch forward on your stool,

“No! Oh God, no! Bucky it’s not like that!” Bucky peaks back up at you cautiously from under those eyelashes of his, face lightening a little as he takes in your panicked and hysterical facial expression. “I didn’t mean that you’re a science experiment or a freak of nature,” Bucky’s frown returns and deepens, “No! Fuck! I’m screwing this up, Bucky you, y-you – christ, you fucking fascinate me.” 

A long, nine month pregnant pause descends swiftly upon the two of you. Bucky’s deeply confused expression remains stitched tight over his features. Your heart squeezes and your lungs throb and you realize you’re holding your breath. With a dry gulp you force yourself to continue,

“You’re fascinating not because you have enhanced abilities and a rad brand new matte black vibranium arm, no, you, I…I find you, um, handsome,” you chuckle breathlessly with a new wave of nerves, trading one set in for the other as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, suddenly unable to keep reassuring eye contact with the man sitting innocently a few feet from you, “You’re facial features are so symmetrical and near perfect I just, and that jawline – I mean, er, you’re every portrait artist’s dream, really,” 

It takes an embarrassing amount of courage to finally force your gaze up to meet Bucky’s. When your eyes do meet, heart pounding tight and high in your chest, all the tension whooshes from your body like water pouring from a pitcher. Bucky has this gigantic grin on his face, teeth just peaking through the curtain of plush lips pulled high and wide, eyes bright like matching blue sparklets on fourth of july, and jaw sharp throwing a shadow on his neck in the light beaming softly through the window beside him. He takes your breath away and for a moment the whole world doesn’t exist. 

“So that’s what this is all about? You could have just told me doll, and I woulda obeyed ya like a love-sick pup.” Bucky says through his smile, shaking his head gently at you. His expression was affectionate, fond you realize.

Your poor heart pounds harder and you try desperately to ignore the fact that you’ve heard Bucky say love-sick. 

“Well hey,” You retaliate as you scramble to assemble what’s left of your dignity and pride. “You’re kinda intimidating, alright, so don’t judge me.” And before you lose your nerve you add in a rushed mumbled slur, “Andbecauseikindalikeyou.” 

I’m seriously not that intimidating, I’m just very shy,” Bucky pauses, his smile dimming a little but the light in his eyes seems to only shine even brighter, “and I kinda like you, too.” 

You just barely contain the ridiculous squeal that erupts in your throat from a dark, embarrassing part of your heart. Instead you allow yourself to giggle like a 12-year old school girl (since that was the only other option) and sloppily chuck your attention back down to the pallet in your hand, paint brush hovering over the globs of paint. 

Shit, he’s got you twisted around his black vibranium pinky finger. 

“Do I now?” 

Your head shoots up when you realize you said that out loud, and with Bucky’s supersoldier hearing he catches everything. You slice your death glare at him again to cover up the fact that you’re blushing. He looks so smug and ridiculous smirking like he is you just wanna punch him, 

You’re disrupting my creative thinking, fuck off!” You accuse as threateningly as you can manage while trying to fight a responding bashful smile of your own. 

He holds his hands up in surrender and then makes a dramatic show of settling himself into a position. You roll your eyes and get to work. 

The portrait takes about a month to finish and really get right (what? you’re a perfectionist, its in your artistic blood), getting up close and personal with every detail Bucky’s visage has to offer. You never complained in the slightest. And to your happy surprise, neither did Bucky. The painting now hangs in the kitchen above the breakfast bar where the team usually convenes to hang out. Steve, being the competitive little shit that he is, immediately gave himself the task to sketch his own portrait of Bucky (well at least another one, since all his old sketch books were sitting in a museum somewhere) five minutes after viewing and complimenting your painting. Of course it was very hard for Steve to drag Bucky from his insistent place at your side, but Steve managed to haul him away only after you whispered in Bucky’s ear a promise of kisses when he got back.

I hope this was a little like you were imagining! Much love xx


anonymous asked:

hello friend i would just like to say that you have a lovely blog and it makes me very very happy to know that you exist to make the world just a little bit brighter :) have a nice day, you deserve it!

I know I reply quite slow to private and rarely to anon messages
Its because I am busy most of the time with school and work
I try my best to reply to as many as I can, believe me I am thankful to every single one of them because seeing messages like these really makes my day!

One of the few reasons why I’ve been drawing in my latest style is because I wanna cheer up your dash with more amusing+funny drawings!
I know its been tough and worrying lately with recent events, I can’t say much but I always hope my drawings would speak louder for me.
As long as the intension is there, I believe my drawings would show it better than me saying anything.

Also this^ , as I said, I am just drawing like this for now cause its funny
I want to enlighten people’s day and make them smile
We lack of that for the past week so I decided to change a little.
Anyways if you see my gallery, tell me when have I ever had ONE style haha
It constantly changes and of course I’ll draw in all my style all the time :)

Among seasons pass, among fallen leaves

Haikyuu!!, Fukurodani VBC & Bokuto, G, 2700w. AO3.

It’s almost Bokuto’s birthday and everyone in Fukurodani volleyball club only has one thing in mind.

Happy birthday, Bokuto ♡! A collaboration with the amazing @paraplyen​ who did the wonderful art!

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You Suck Charlie

A/N: here’s something simple that Kat definitely didn’t request 

[Joji x cuddling x talking about the future]

“It’s late,” Joji tells you, “I should go home. You have work in the morning.”

Your boyfriend is sweet and he means well, but there’s absolutely no way you’re going to let him go home tonight. You’ve been working erratic hours lately at the catering company because two girls just quit and now the entire team is down to eight people. Not to mention, Joji has been traveling a lot, to Australia and California and back – rinse and repeat – for the last few months. You rarely see one another and being left to the occasional phone call and skype session is really beginning to eat you and leave you unsatisfied. The last thing you want to do is complain and burden Joji with your frantic thoughts so you do the only thing you feel you can; you grab his hands in a vice grip and beg him to stay for the night.

“Sleep over, then. I won’t mind. I just want to be near you.” 

And it’s true. You just want to be close to him. It seems you’re never close enough, and you don’t like the distance that’s beginning to collect between you guys, between every missed call and cancelled date and rushed goodbye. It’s driving you mad and you’re having a hard time untying the insanity knotting itself together in your mind. All you want is tonight. One night when you don’t have to overthink and worry about the future of your relationship.

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows at you, biting back a smile. 

You don’t feel like doing anything sexual tonight. You want to be close in another way. You want to be comforted. “Yeah. Just to sleep. You can leave in the morning, as early as you need to, but please just stay for tonight.”

“Anything for you.”

You both make your way to your bedroom, where you change into an old, big shirt you like to think is Joji’s – but honestly, it’s just a plain tee shirt and you’ve had it for so long that it could have come from anyone you’ve dated… Though it’s not like you’d tell Joji that – and your heart wrenchingly compliant boyfriend strips down to his boxers before crawling in bed next to you and wrapping his arms protectively around your torso, lips pressed to the back of your head. You feel the body heat of his chest and stomach against your back, only separated by the thin fabric of the anonymously pre-owned tee shirt. His breath hits your hair and things seem easier for a moment. Not so calamitas. 

“I love you so much.” You say.

You hear Joji exhale a little in surprise. “I know, I love you too. Is something up? You seem… Melancholy.” He kisses you reassuringly behind your ear a few times.

You turn around in his arms so that you’re facing him, cuddling into his chest. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just paranoid.”

Joji strokes your hair and your back and your hips very chastely, wanting you to be comfortable enough to share your thoughts with him. He’s always been like this. Joji will never speak a word in question to get you to tell him something, even if it pains him. He’ll just be sweet and nice and painfully obvious about his curiosity. “Paranoid,” He sighs. 

You haven’t really told him much and it’s a little unfair. How can you guys work harder to spend time together when your boyfriend isn’t even aware that you miss him like this? “Yeah. Paranoid about us.”

Joji stops moving. “What about us?”

Oh god, now it’s awkward. Part of you starts to panic because the last thing you want is to offend him. You’re not the only one who has it hard. Joji is just as stressed, if not more so, with his jam-packed schedule and immense workload. You don’t want him to think that your paranoia rests on only his end

“Well, okay, not like us. We’re fine. I love you so much and I know you love me and you’re perfect and great and I’m happy with you.” You say in a rush, comforting Joji to the best of your ability and as quick as you can before his disappointment sets in.

“So this isn’t about,” he looks up for a second, avoiding eye contact, “you don’t want to…?”

“No!” You snap, snuggling closer to press a billion short, sweet, butterfly kisses on his face. “I definitely don’t want to break up. Ever. I love you so much, Joji, and I always will. No doubt.”

He lets out a long sigh. “Oh, thank god. I love you too. So much. Too much.” He plants a simple kiss on your nose. 

You know he won’t pry so you continue on before any kind of quietude grows in the space between your words. “It’s about something else. I just, I feel…”
Joji tightens his arms around you and places his chin on the crown of your head. You know he’s over-thinking before you even feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, pressed against the skin of your cheek. 

“I never see you anymore.”

You’re not quite sure how you were expecting Joji to react but it definitely wasn’t for him to laugh at you. You freeze a little and he starts rubbing your back again. “I’m sorry, it’s just,” he chuckles for another moment, “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you the same thing but it felt silly. Arbitrary.”

“Oh.” You say, feeling a lot of things, but mostly blatant stupidity. 

“I mean, it’s obvious we don’t see each other often,” Joji sighs and continues to rub your back, “but I just wanted you to know that it fucking sucks. I can’t stand it. On top of that, I never know when close is too close.” He kisses you a few times on the crown of your head, seemingly showing affection to apologize for laughing. “You never speak to me about this stuff. I don’t want to spend so much time apart and then smother you when I see you. I don’t know how much of me you want, I don’t know how much of me to give you.”

You throat is dry and it hurts when you try to swallow the panic. By keeping your insecurities to yourself, you unintentionally pushed Joji away and he noticed. 

“I’m sorry.” You say pathetically. “I just, I love you so much. I didn’t want to push you. I figured you’d come to me if you wanted to see me. It sounds stupid now and I’m sorry. I want all of you. All that you’re willing to give, George, because I’m all in.I have been from the beginning.”

Joji kisses you then and things change.

“We’re going to be together forever, y/n, there’s no way you can get away from me now.” He smiles at you, absolutely beaming from your words. 

“Do you really want to be?” You ask, unabashed giggling spilling out of your mouth a little because you’re high on the decadence of these moments. You weren’t sure if he meant it, but you took his words seriously.

“I meant it. We can get married if you want,” George laughs when some kind of happy, astonished sound escapes from the back of your throat, “and we’ll have kids. Lots of them.”

“What will we name them?” You ask, adorning a smile that feels brighter than the sun.

“I don’t know… I always liked Verona for a girl. Like the city? Ronnie for short. Boys names are harder, there’s too many common ones.”

You’re happyhappyhappy and it’s beating in your chest like something alive and real. “You want to be a dad?”

Joji smiles. “Maybe one day, when I’m not such an idiot.”

You kiss him. “Tell me more about our future.”

He laughs and you’re laughing and the energy in the room has changed significantly from what it was before. You’re glad for it. Joji’s ecstatic.

“I’d probably be a deadbeat stay-at-home dad. I could could teach the kiddos ukulele or piano or something. Have fun with them. You’re smart, though. You’d do something with your life, have a career. Quit that dumb food company thing,”

“Catering company.” You correct, still grinning like an idiot.

“Right, of course. Catering company. Because there’s a huge difference.”
You hit his shoulder lightly and squeal with laughter even though his words hadn’t been particularly funny. You’re just so happy. Your emotions are running wild and god damn, you love this boy to pieces. 

He smiles too and kisses you again, soft and easy. Joji breaks to continue and you can tell he’s just as into this hypothetical future and you are. “You’d be something cool. You’re into animals, right? You would probably be a veterinarian or dog show host or something, I don’t know. And we might not make that much money, and we might live in a slummy neighborhood for the rest of our lives, but you know what?”


Joji smiles and you’ve never seen something so beautiful or heart-warming in your entire life. It’s something you want a picture of, some kind of tangible memory of it to store in your pocket and take out every once in awhile just to remind yourself that beauty like this still exists in the world, and it belongs to you. 

“We’ll have each other. We’ll be happy. We’ll do okay. I know we will.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, so overcome with emotion that tears are collecting in your eyes. “I know too.”

Dance With Me? (Jungkook)

drabble about being a backup dancer for BTS/Jungkook’s dance partner as requested by growlwolfexo! hope it’s to your liking~

Genre: kookie’s so shy and sexy at the same time wtf no

Word count: 2688

Rating: K for why don’t you just Kill me now Kookie

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anonymous asked:

hello. this is just my opinion, but i dont think you should edit these pictures particularly those from non-editable fansites. and tbh its their picture they have every right to do whatever they want with it. and i think its kind of rude of you to call them stalkers. personally i think more so than some other fans, they know their boundaries with the boys the most. and i also dont think it is right for you to say how they feel, the way you're saying they're promoting racism and all -c-

-c- because you dont know them personally. so i think it’s not right for you to say things like that about them. you’re basically judging people whom you’ve never met. but anyways thank you for reading these. have a nice day.

I want to warn you first that this is a long read. If you have no intentions to understanding why we are editing pictures, I suggest you stop right here.

I’m going to break down your ask into separate topics and address the issues in each one.

Okay you made it this far, so let’s take a journey to educate ourselves shall we?

this is just my opinion, but i dont think you should edit these pictures particularly those from non-editable fansites. and tbh its their picture they have every right to do whatever they want with it

Let’s start at the beginning, white washing and light skin beauty ideals have had a long and intensive history in many cultures. But for the sake of time I’m going to center around Eastern Asia/South Eastern Asia and the effects. 

It’s the idea that light skinned people are better than others.

Not to be confused with “wanting to be white/looking like white people”. Because the goal in a colorist society is to look “brighter” and “paler” enough to be the color white. Not white people.

Mostly light skinned people are considered more well mannered, civilized, clean, educated, but mostly intelligent and beautiful. So much in fact that light skinned people are worshipped and if anybody wishes to be treated with respect than they should work to look like pale people.

Now we all know that this sounds ridiculous right?

Well, unfortunately this ideal is so widely accepted that it became a part of 3,000 years worth of cultural East and Southeast Asian history and continues to rear its ugly head today. So much that it became an economic industry that continues promoting this ugly beauty ideal. ie. Skin Whitening Products and Commercialized Whitewashing.

This prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group is called colorism or shadeism. (Which are real terms that you can look up on google! Amazing.) And those that promote these ideals are called colorists or shadeists. Which is what I’m calling these fansites.

Why do we edit their pictures? Simply put it’s to bring back Bangtan’s skin color to their original form. To show that, no, they DO NOT have to have their skin color changed to be considered beautiful. That they do not have to change who they are or what they look to be worthy of all of the fans love. And if we don’t STOP them and let them know that this behavior is incredibly offensive than they are just going to continue. 

If you say that they have “every right to do whatever they want” you are condoning this.

OH LOOK! The same fansite!! Same day! Same event! But one is a preview and the other is a whitewashed nightmare.

Obviously these fansites love these boys, but they apparently don’t love them enough to accept that YES, some of them do have tan skin. YES, some of them are even considered dark. And YES, they are still the beautiful and handsome boys that we have come to know with their real skin tone.

They even go to the extent of whitewashing the palest member of Bangtan. Min Yoongi aka SUGA. Like literally his name is to show how pale he is COMPARED to the members (he is not the palest being in the universe mind you) and yet they whitewash him. Why? I have no clue at this point, they have lost all reason.

Same Yoongi fansite, same day, same event. And yet a world of differences.

Wow, yes they have “a right to do this”. But that doesn’t mean their actions don’t have consequences.

Their CONSTANT whitewashing leads many fans to believe that they all look like their whitewashed pictures. When they don’t. The problem is that, this goes so unnoticed by fans that they start perceiving the whitewashed version as the real deal, and then get surprised when they see a photo or video of an idol with their natural skintone.

Now what I am about to say is the real kicker, most if not all kpop idols are already using WHITENING MAKEUP.  SURPRISE!!

Some idols/celebrities/average people have even thought it necessary that they should entirely get rid of their natural skin tone with WHITENING PRODUCTS because of their insecurities and the bullying.

Now the question lies, why are these fansites whitewashing them EVEN MORE when they are already wearing things that make them look paler?

and i think its kind of rude of you to call them stalkers. personally i think more so than some other fans, they know their boundaries with the boys the most.

Listen, fansites are people. They are not deities clear of sin and representative of the highest virtues.

Here is the process to be a fansite.

1. Be a fan (JUST LIKE YOU OR ME)

2. Make a fansite (Putting it on some form of social media. Example: twitter)

3. Buy a DSLR Camera (a really expensive camera with giant lenses)

4. Have 100% full attendance. (follow the same schedule as the boys.)

5. Take pictures, edit, and upload. And if you got time, sell your finished photos.

It’s really that easy, give or take you have to sacrifice your soul to the devil to own one of those cameras. There is no clear indication on whether these fansites are sasaengs, who have every as much as ability to become a fansite as other rich fans.

Here is an example of a sasaeng fansite here that was for previous EXO member Wu Yifan aka Kris.

Where they even went to the extent to book an airplane ticket next to them to take pictures as they were sleeping.

Not many sasaengs of BTS are fansites luckily, but BTS sasaengs DO exist. And already have caused an annoyance to fans and BTS. The chances of sasaengs becoming fansites increases as popularity increases. So lets not start putting fansites on a pedestal this early in the fandom, okay?

But seriously, even average fansites go the extent to going to different countries, even outside of Asia to take pictures of the boys. All for what? To whitewash them? It is literally going over the boundaries of idols, or in this case BTS’,  skin color.

Why do these fansites think that it is appropriate to choose what skin color looks good on these idols enough to completely bleach them out of existance. Especially when there is already BULLYING within idol groups based on dark skin color. Heck, there was even multiple occasions within Bangtan themselves where they made fun of the darker members skin color!

But apparently it’s cool for fansites to continue whitewashing when people get bullied enough? Now fansites have some “god given mission” that they gotta prove that idols LOOK BETTER WITH PALER SKIN? And even the leader, Namjoon has stated in his songs that he likes his dark skin? Why take what they love about themselves away?

Infact, why do these fansites have the NERVE to take away the skin color that some of them don’t even have the confidence of loving themselves yet?

Here is a link to BTS’ Picture Diary and the Translations. It has Jimin’s, Jin’s and Taehyung’s Diary Entry.

What leaves me heartbroken the most is reading Taehyung’s.

3. V Kota Kinabalu2 / We went to the island. A.R.M.Y will be surprised to see me in Korea since I got tanned. I’m quite dark. I hope they don’t make fun of me. I got on the banana boat and the parachute, had a shooting at home, and swam for 10 minutes. There could’ve been more. The end. Today’s lesson: Let’s learn how to float in the water. Today’s compliments/regrets: I tried not to get tanned./But I did.

Why is he so afraid of tanning? Why is he so afraid of the ARMY making fun of him that he has to mention the fans twice? Why is he afraid of the ARMY making fun of him so much that he considers his skin color a regretful lesson? Why is he so anxious that he has to write his insecurities about his tan skin in the BEGINNING and the END? Why is he so afraid of SPECIFICALLY the ARMY in Korea: the fans that apparently see Taehyung the most, interact with the most, and according to you “know his boundaries” more than other fans?

WHY are fansites hurting the ones they supposedly love the most in this way?

God, everytime I read this it always makes me fucking cry. Cause his insecurity over his skin color is something that a LOT of East Asian/Southeast Asians can empathize with. Because this not only affects idols, this affects ALL East/Southeast Asian kids.

The reason restoring blogs exist because OTHER EAST/SOUTHEAST ASIANS are sick of having people OF THEIR OWN RACE AND ETHNIC PEOPLE BE ERASED OF THEIR NATURAL SKIN COLOR. Which will then in turn perpetuate colorism.

You heard it here folks!

This restoring movement is conducted by a network of East/Southeast Asians, the same race and ethnic background as YOUR favorite kpop star. Hell I even know some Koreans that are restoring idols.

So stop thinking that restore blogs exist solely to feel superior to faneditors. The goal is to make people more aware of what these fansites are doing and what could be harming the idols and fans of color.

Infact, I can tell you that some fansites were actually EDITABLE in the past. Some fansites were okay with editing. Like “average editing” for photosets, or videos, or ridiculous “pastel edits” (some which kill their skin color even more.)

But as soon as restoring blogs came into the picture, whether restoring blogs gave credit or not, they were furious. 

Most fansites make money off their pictures. Not only that, but they make a profit. The fansites “giving us” their pictures is not a “privilege”, they are literally selling a product/brand. If people want to criticize the product and voice their thoughts about it they are well within their rights. 

and i also dont think it is right for you to say how they feel, the way you’re saying they’re promoting racism and all because you dont know them personally. so i think it’s not right for you to say things like that about them. you’re basically judging people whom you’ve never met.

As we all know by now, I’m calling them colorists, as the fansites usually are within the same racial and ethnic group as most kpop idols. (Of course I said most because, as we should all know by now that not ALL kpop idols are Korean and some Korean celebrities are of mixed race as well. And hell not even all fansites are Korean.)

But colorism can lead to racist behavior. (Which will one day be saved for a different day.)

And also, nobody has to know someone PERSONALLY to know that someone is racist or is conducting racist behavior.

Like, I don’t know these students in this Philadelphia school play personally, but yellowfacing is racist even if you claim it as “your art” and “your hardwork”.

No they are not, out blatantly saying “I hate East Asians,” but you do not need much to know that their actions are OFFENSIVE.

Similar to these fansites, they are not publicly saying “I hate their skin color,” but you can definitely know that fansites consciously took the TIME and EFFORT to edit idols skin to feed their offensive beauty ideals when its just easier to post their HD photos. 

Which makes them colorist.

And what boggles my mind the most. Why are you more angry at the fact that we are calling them offensive and colorist instead of understanding that their behavior does more harm to generations of East/Southeast Asians?

Why do you care more about getting whitewashed HD pics instead of respecting the idols and treating them like real people?

But I guess to you,

art is pain.

-Admin Matte


Besides all that was said above, I just want to mention that, besides restoring blogs, there is unwhitewashed content. Such as broadcasting pictures, livestreaming videos from events, some of the selfies the members upload on social medias, even official content from the companies, and not to mention unwhitewashed previews from the fansites just as Admin Matte pointed out.

 All this content is up alongside the whitewashed ones. Everyone sees it and likes/reblogs it. They’re posted on the dedicated blogs too. So my question is, how do people not notice how extremely different they can be? The differences go far beyond the point where you could say it’s due to lighting, camera flash, distance, or just whitening makeup. Why does no one question these differences? 

- Admin Gloss


30 Days of Phan Drabbles Day 12

Anonymous | Dan’s been getting a lot of anon messages on his personal tumblr account lately, and though he doesn’t know who they’re from, they mean a lot to Dan. | Phan | Teen and Up | 891 Words

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

Prompt: Phil sending Dan cute encouragements when he’s feeling down. This goes on for a while before Dan realizes it’s Phil (or Phil forgets to press anon)

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Marvel Hates Queer People, how they work, and more.

With the recent cancellations Angela Queen of Hel and Weird World we have seen Marvel quietly can two queer lead books with no replacement. I’ll provide links to further reading on Marvel’s relationship with queer people ( ) but here is the reality of these books being caned. We can say sales but Weird World and Angela both didn’t get the same start as the other books. After two runs of Angela where many fans felt gay baited we finally got Angela to be maybe the best comic to ever come out to come stories about queer woman. However, we can’t ignore that almost no one knew this book was as gay as it was so it didn’t give the queer audience a chance to buy this comic. Beyond this Queen of Hel got bogged down by existing at a time that Marvel is publishing so many comics that Marvel is forcing retailers to order tons of issues of to get variants. So stores like my LCS have been forced to order way more of other comics and they aren’t encouraged to order books like Angela. The way Marvel operates makes it where a comic without variants will be ordered less without a doubt, it’s a self fulfilling prophecy.

Let’s break this down a bit further, Marvel asks retailers to order X number of books to qualify in ordering a variant cover, these covers are rarer, worth more money, and therefore give much better margins for the retailer. So variant covers are hard for stores to give up on so marvel tells retailers in advance that they want to take X capital for books they want to do well. This means the books they do this for are far more likely to sell really well, even more likely to hurt smaller books they publish when they release so many books a month for stores to overlook. Sure in the digital space everyone is equal but the more popular a book, the more it’s reviewed, the more it’s out there, the more likely someone is to know to find it on these digital storefronts.  So more or less what it comes down to is Marvel is choosing what sells well because they don’t care if a book sells in stores really, it matters if it sells to stores.

Comic book sales systems aren’t the only thing actively hurting LGBT fronted comics at marvel. With the lack of marketing that these books get they are playing the game with the deck stacked against them. For example Weird World already had a lack of interest in Secret Wars and they were doing something totally different with it for ANAD so instead of really pushing and going “Look here is some new and exciting things we’re doing” ‘ They nodded their head, allowed the book to exist and I think maybe the writer got to do an interview on The Mary Sue. If a comic company wants to support queer people then they need to understand the queer consumer has been burned many times by both Marvel and DC. We need full on commitment because anyone scoffing “Marvel will just cancel their gay books before the year is over” was totally right .Yes everyones got to make money but say “Dammit we’re doing something here that is good for the art and for the fans.” If marvel gave half a shift about LGBT+ people they would be getting the same love Inhumans are where they are fronting tons of books, in everything, and suddenly fronting the Marvel universe. Hell it didn’t take many issues for Kamala Khan to crossover with Spider-man in his book to further push her stuff.

I think we have talked in enough detail now that I don’t need to go into further reasons of why and how Marvel is screwing up here with their queer community. I mean it really does come down to them not caring. Marvel says it has LGBT+ people on staff but who? We don’t know, we know they hire a few bi woman to do free lance but I mean I don’t understand Axle to understand the nuances of sexuality I am sure he thinks they are straight and will get serious with a man or whatever. Marvel cares about getting press, Marvel cares about money, and Marvel knows we’re nerdy idiots. They sell us on diversity but do just enough to be better. They really don’t care they care that a GLAAD award nomination went to one of their books, they care that people think they are progressive, they care that they have characters people care about. Why do they care about the last thing because they know at any point in time they can be like “America Chavez Solo book” and bam now were running back. Oh and if we don’t they will say they were right and she couldn’t hold her own solo book.

What do we do about this? What do we say, who do we say it to and how often do we say it. That is the real question, I don’t have all the answers. I write with a lot of confidence in myself despite my lack of grammar but in times like these I need more then me. I want to know how we can make progress together because alone were nothing to Marvel. I’m an angry person yelling at them to be better but enough angry people and maybe we can make change. Thank you for reading and I hope the future is brighter.

Home to Me

Yay! finally sharing my beast of the fic @togreblog asked for! I hope you like it, I put a lot into it. I have a part two that I’m working through. Can’t wait to share. Thanks for reading =)

The town was tiny but it was everything Nesta wanted. It was close to her sisters, close to the only people she cared about after the damn war. But it was far enough away from them, from the constant reminders of this new life she had to live. So it was the perfect place to build the home Nesta had been dreaming about. It was the perfect place to clear her head and to stop thinking about him.

Feyre had given her more than enough money to build the perfect cottage. She had enough left over after it was finished to live off of until she decided what to do with her long existence. So she didn’t have to rush into anything. Which was what Feyre wanted, she was always looking out for her sisters.

She had found the perfect field the first day she came to this little town. It was close to the edge, lining the forest. It was overgrown with weeds and sunflowers. The sun sat right above it and she could hear the rustling of water. Nesta paid the construction team to start building that very day.

The cottage wasn’t huge. It was bigger than their tiny cabin, but nowhere near as big as the houses Rhysand had. She didn’t need big, she just needed cosy. So there were three bedrooms, a living room with a large glass window, and her favorite part, a wrap around porch. She loved the wrap around porch, the two little rocking chairs that were out front. It was her favorite spot to watch the day pass, to read and try to clear her head.

This was her home, the perfect home she had never dreamt of having, human or fae. It had taken a huge life changing moment to bring her here, but most days Nesta wouldn’t change a thing. She had fought a war and somehow come out stronger. She had survived death and her sisters were happy.

That was all she had ever asked for in life. For Feyre and Elain to be happy.

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Dancing on Glass

Part I/VII of The Playground

Pairing: Sanghyuk/OFC

Rating: R to NC-17

Warnings: AU, Mentions of drug use, addiction, alcohol, non explicit sex, mental illness, hospitals. Mature themes and language

Wordcount: 5353

Notes: So I’m back for now, with a new outlook on life and writing. I’ve decided to keep writing because its vital to me and it makes me happy, and that sharing it makes me happy too instead of watching it languish in my google docs forever. So if none of y’all like it, so be it, there’s probably one person out there happy to read me and i’ve decided its good enough for me. On to the real business: I’ve been toying with the idea of single dad!vixx for a long time and it finally sorta came together. I will post it in increments because obviously my drabbles turned into full blown chapters, what else is new? The first one is Sanghyuk’s, its the first that came to my head fully formed. There’s a few delicate subjects in there but I think you guys can handle it, just heed the warnings. Love y’all xoxo


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finding infinity

title: finding infinity
summary: and in the moment when they fall out of sync, she finds everything she needs to know.
pairing: shikaino
mood music: m83 - midnight city


It was an accident, really.

She knew better, but impulsiveness has always been a flaw of hers and now it’s gotten her into real trouble that she doesn’t particularly want to consider the consequences of. Dread coils in her gut.

Or it would, if she had a body.

There is a reason, drilled into their heads from a very early age, that the abilities of InoShikaChou are used in concert and formations. There is a reason that the three if them were placed on the same team, and Ino knows that she just blew it big time.

This was supposed to be a standard kill-the-enemy mission, and she got cocky. She got cocky and wanted to show off, and now she’s trapped and Shikamaru will never forgive her.

Instead of waiting for the signal like she was told, she’d tried to get a jump on their target by using her shintenshin no jutsu on him before he noticed her. But he was fast, much faster than she’d anticipated, with keen senses that had picked up on her movements.

And so he’d sidestepped her flying mind transfer, grinning like a madman at the horror on her face. Because just behind where he’d been standing was Shikamaru, who had circled around the clearing for a better vantage point.

And her jutsu hit him head on.


Inside the darkness of Shikamaru’s mind, Ino fights against her rising tide of panic. This is not how this is supposed to go, not how her jutsu works. Though she tries to release it, her attempt is met with no response and the inability to return to her body.

Asuma-sensei had often said that her teammate’s mind is a steel trap, but she hadn’t thought that it would be the near-literal truth.

The other oddity that baffles her is her lack of control over Shikamaru’s body. The shintenshin has never malfunctioned this way before. Sakura was an exception, but even then she’d held the reigns for a little while. In Shikamaru’s mind, she has no grasp over him, no control. She is a floating entity of thought, lost in the overwhelming maze of his consciousness.

Then the terrifying thought strikes her that Shikamaru knows she’s in here. Her presence in his head is the grossest violation of an unspoken trust, that she would never ever use her art on him. She throws herself against the walls of his mind in a frantic effort to break free, but they only seem to constrict around her, angry neural lights firing off in the darkness around her.

Wordlessly, she screams at him to let her out. Her attention is caught by one neural flare that is pulsing brighter than the rest, and she moves closer to it as a moth seeks the flame. As her consciousness comes into contact with it, the world around her shifts.

Looking down, Ino sees herself standing inside her own body. It’s merely an illusion though, possibly conjured by Shikamaru’s mind to make her feel more comfortable. She breathes a mental sigh of relief, hoping he can sense her gratitude.

Curious, she looks around at her new surroundings. No longer trapped in the small, dark, empty space, she is surrounded by thousands of tiny moving images, like a neverending wall of monitors. Upon closer inspection, she recognizes the common element in each of them: herself. These must be Shikamaru’s memories and thoughts of her.

A powerful urge to know how he sees her seizes her, and she wrestles with herself as she floats there among a thousand tiny incarnations of herself.

It’s not that she’s never sifted through anyone’s memories before; it’s a standard interrogation tactic for uncooperative prisoners and a staple use of her family’s jutsu. But this is different. This isShikamaru, and even though she’s violated his privacy in a hundred different ways over the years, this is a line that she’s never been willing to cross.

But she’s also never been this close, and she’ll never get another chance like this.

Biting her incorporeal lip, she tentatively reaches out to touch a memory.


They are five, and she had just fallen off of the swings.

In her own mind, she remembers Shikamaru’s sigh and his eyes rolling, accompanied by his favorite saying.

But, as she watches transfixed, he remembers her tears and her small ‘thank you’ as he compresses the bleeding with his mother’s favorite handkerchief.


They are ten, and she uses the shintenshin for the first time.

She remembers his grumbling as he is instructed to catch and care for her body. They weren’t even teammates yet.

He remembers her fragile vulnerability, the way her bangs fell across her face as she lay as a vacant shell in his arms, and her triumphant smirk on Chouji’s face as she taunts him from their friend’s mouth. He remembers being proud of her.


They are twelve, newly graduated from the academy and officially a team.

She remembers his annoyance and his reluctance to engage in anything requiring effort.

He remembers being secretly relieved that if he’s forced to be stuck with teammates, at least he has the comfort of familiar faces. He remembers her chasing after Sasuke, forgetting that he exists.


They are thirteen and he has failed in his mission to bring Sasuke back to Konoha.

She remembers the self-loathing in his eyes and the rigid set of his shoulders as he refuses to speak for weeks, and the relief of his survival nearly palpable.

He remembers how she brings him food and flowers to try and cheer him up, and how he ignores her as he stares hard at the clouds. The weight of the worry in her eyes nearly heavier than his own guilt.


They are fifteen, and she and Chouji try for chuunin once again.

She remembers trying her hardest, working to make him and their sensei proud. But he is distracted, blinded by the desert storm that has blown into town for the exams. She learns a different kind of fear.

He remembers dull monitors, long legs, and a wicked smirk. He learns to move beyond his failures, but he does not forget to notice her victory.


They are sixteen, and Asuma dies.

She remembers the ache in her chest and the burning in her eyes. A giant chasm erupts between them, threatening to tear them apart even as they come together for their sensei. She remembers how he doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t forgive himself.

He remembers a long chain of cigarettes, her dark circles and puffy eyes. It’s his fault–his fault–and Asuma’s life is not the only thing that has slipped through his fingers as he turns away to grieve alone.


His memories stretch on in an endless parade, made up of thousands of tiny moments, many of which she has nearly forgotten. She doesn’t know how long she spends turning them over in her own mind, fascinated by seeing her memories through his eyes.

Her life and his, intwined like vines of ivy clinging together.

Many of them reopen old wounds, causing her heart to crack and bleed again. His first failure as a team leader washes over her, his guilt nearly burying her.The anguish of Asuma’s death, ever present in his mind, courses through her consciousness in a keening cry.

As she tries to tread above the flow of emotions, a new image grows before her independent of her will. Her body, prone and unconscious amidst the bushes, and Shikamaru leaning over her, seen from his own vision. Startled, Ino realizes that she’s seeing herself as she is at this moment, absent from her body. Even more alarming, Shikamaru has control over his own movements, seemingly unaffected by her presence in his mind.

She hears him call her name, but it’s warbled as though she’s hearing him from underwater. She tries to call out to him, but he is apparently deaf to her inside of him.

But as he reaches down to touch her, her consciousness goes black.



Ino groans, her head pounding with the intensity of a hundred drums. Opening her eyes will just make it worse.


But that voice is familiar and insistent, and she resigns herself to consciousness as her eyes reluctantly open. Shikamaru’s blurry face hovers over her, and she belatedly realizes that he’s holding her in his arms.

And it feels different after what she’s seen.

Her cheeks heat with an uncomfortable mixture of happiness and mortification. She looks away, anywhere but at his face. Ino doesn’t want to see the anger and reproach that she knows will be there, and if there were a way to avoid the impending confrontation over what she’s just done, she’d take it.

“Hey, look at me, troublesome woman!”

Agonizingly, she does, cold dread filling her. But there is none of the fury she expects, only a tender concern.

“You’re not mad?” she whispers, a tiny spark of hope blooming in her chest.

He rolls his eyes at her, his grip on her body tightening ever-so-slightly. “Mad at you for screwing up the plan and getting yourself lost, sure. But I’m not mad at you for being alright. Why the hell did you go and do something stupid like that, huh?”

She stares at him, bewildered. “Lost?”

He sighs at her in annoyance. “Yeah, after you missed the guy it took you a long time to come back. What happened?”

Ino is at a complete loss. How could he not know that she was inside of him?

“I hit you,” she says slowly, enunciating carefully so that he understands.

His face twists in confusion. “No, you didn’t. I would have known if you had. Listen, Chouji’s gone back to that town to get-”

“Shikamaru.” She swallows hard, knowing that she could take the secret of what she’d done to her grave, but choosing not to.

“I was inside your mind,” she tells him firmly, “and I couldn’t control you, I don’t know why.”

He stares at her, alarmed. “That’s not possible. That shouldn’t happen, I would have known-”

“I saw your memories,” she whispers.

He falls silent, and she braces herself for the inevitable giant crack in their trust that will forever ruin their friendship, their team, and the unusual warm feeling she has when he holds her.

He doesn’t say anything as his brows furrow, and Ino can see the darkening behind his eyes. She turns away, biting her lip and fighting the tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Silent sobs wrack her as the silence between them stretches on, and the hope inside her dies.

But the pressure of his thumb against her cheek, wiping away her tears, turns her back to him.

“Troublesome woman,” he murmurs, his voice unusually soft. “Always getting into things you’re not supposed to.”

And then he pulls her against him in an embrace, and her eyes slide in and out of focus on his green flak jacket as she tries to remember the mechanics of breathing.

“I love you,” she blurts, out of nowhere.

It is the strangest thing she has ever said to him, but also the most honest, even if she was never honest with herself about it.

“I knew that long before you did,” he chuckles against her hair.

She smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to be rude about it,” she mutters, her face flaming.

“I’m not the one who had to take a trip through someone else’s mind to figure it out,” he teases.

Ino pulls back, her temper getting the better of her. “I just told you that I love you. If all you’re going to do is make fun of me, then-”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes and kisses her, effectively shutting her up.

“You talk too much,” he mutters against her lips, and he can feel them curl in a smirk.

“Troublesome,” she agrees as she kisses him back.

Perhaps she should contemplate taking more jaunts through his mind in the future.

Time Flies (Vok prequel)

Summary: After connecting with a human, Eli learns how valuable life can be in the worst possible way and how time goes by quickly for mortals. It’s been two hundred years since they’ve been on earth, and something draws them to their holy temple more so than on any other day.

They never would have known that something would turn out to be someone, and that someone was destined to meet them.

Notes: Hello everyone! Here is the first of three prize fics from my 1,994 follower give away! This one is for @skiretehfox , who wanted a story related to the Valley of Kings AU we’ve been collaborating on! 

I’m not gunna lie, this story is before any of the events that we have planned happening in the AU take place. This story is all about how Eli and Nozomi met, in a nutshell really (but it’s so much more than that too ;) )

There will probably be a couple more stories set in this au, so I hope you look forward to them! 

A HUGE THANK YOU TO MY BETA READERS @silversheath AND @banditchika FOR YOUR HELP WITH EDITING AND FIXING UP THE STORY ;;W;;! I’m eternally grateful for your help with this story ;;w; (also @luckfoser because u did help too friend, thank you !!)

As a final note, Eli is NB in this au! 

Thank you for reading, liking and if you reblog it, reblogging this story! If you have questions and are curious about the au and other things, just send asks to either Skire or I and we’ll answer as best as we can til I can get the AU summary post up ;u;!

Word count: 12,037


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Don’t Go

You stood leaning against the kitchen counter, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes while your coffee brewed, the t-shirt you’d pulled off the chair on your way out of the bedroom riding up when you stretch your arms. You smile to yourself, lifting the fabric up to bury your nose in it, breathing in the scent- his scent. His soap, woodsy and fresh lingered quite strongly and his cologne left the neckline a little muskier. You stifle a giggle when you catch a whiff of some of that fruity rum drink that he’d spilled on himself, shaking your head at last night’s memory.

You remember your coffee then and rush to grab your cup, taking a sip of the hot liquid and sighing contentedly. You’re surprised that you were able to get out of bed without waking him, but relieved, too. You had to say goodbye today, had to head back home to work and life while he stayed here across the sea, performing to crowds of thousands whose screams and cheers were unlike anything you’d ever heard before. And goodbye was the last thing you wanted to say, surely it was the last thing he wanted to hear. You didn’t know what to do without him, you were never sure how to fill the gaps in between work and school and friends when he wasn’t there. And now it’d be harder, what with classes done for the summer. That only left you with more time without him.

Instead of thinking about it more, you smile to yourself when you decide that you’re going to pounce on him to wake him up, distract the both of you with a playful good morning. And just as you’re about to turn the corner back into the bedroom, you realize you’re too late- with a surprised shriek, you’re lifted into the air, hugged tightly to his body.

“Morning, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your t-shirt that he realizes with a smirk is actually his.

“Morning, Harry.”

He squeezes you tightly again before placing you gently back on the ground, his arms staying locked around your waist.

“You almost made me spill my coffee,” you scold him jokingly and he grabs the mug from you, taking a generous sip. You scowl at him, mocking his whiney little Heyyyy, earning a giggle from him.

“What, none for me?”

“Not from my cup, no.”

“Sheesh,” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes and pouting at you.

You kiss his puckered lips and the pout quickly tilts into a little smirk, one that grows bigger when you kiss him again, pressing yourself against his chest.

“I’ll go pour you some,” you say with a sigh when he pulls away from your kiss, jutting out his lower lip and widening those irresistible eyes of his. He flashes you a cheesy grin, following you into the kitchen and humming appreciatively when he sips the hot coffee.

“You going to come back to bed?” he asks, his head tilting and eyebrows raising, an almost childish sort of happiness very clear in his voice and his smile, his teeth showing just barely above the mug of coffee.

You sigh then, shaking your head, realizing that childlike happiness isn’t exactly genuine, not entirely.

“Harry, you know I have an early fli-“

“Shh,” he shakes his head at you, whisking you into his arms and disregarding his cup of coffee on the counter, grabbing yours from you to place it beside his own. “We could always pretend you don’t,” he suggests, trying to sound lighthearted, but those eyes give him away as always.


“Can’t you stay?”

“You know I can’t,” you say sadly, leaving his arms to head back into your bedroom and pack, deciding that maybe if you do this a little quicker, maybe if you just get it over with, rip the bandaid off as they say, it’ll hurt less.

He comes padding in behind you, running his hand through his floppy, sleep tangled hair as he stands, his boxer briefs hung low on his hips and sleep still etched into his face.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, alright?” you say, trying to keep your voice normal.

He barely glances over at you, nodding once. “Alright.”

You love showers, love pretending that there is no outside world, that the only things that exists are you- Harry, when he’s with you in there of course- and the shower itself, cleansing and refreshing and peaceful. But today it was just a distraction, just an excuse to not let your sad eyes meet his sadder ones. Then again, you weren’t really sure who’s sadder, considering you’re the one thankful for the shower water only because right now, it’s hiding your own tears from you. You stand under the water, keeping it a little cooler than usual. You feel yourself start to relax a little, realize your eyes are wet only with the shower water now when you’re startled by a knock on the door before it opens quickly.

“Yeah, please come in,” you huff jokingly and all you get back is a puff of air, that way of pretending to be amused when you’re probably the farthest thing from it.

“Is it okay if I come in with you?” he asks softly, poking his head around the curtain.

You meet his eyes and see how earnest they look, how soft his expression is. “I’d love that,” you say with a smile that gets the corners of his lips to turn up just a little.

He practically rips his underwear off in his rush to join you and as soon as he’s in, his arms are around you, his hair standing up when the cold water hits him so suddenly. He rubs his hands up and down your sides and then lets go to grab your face, tilting your chin up with his thumb and forefinger on either side.

“You were crying,” he observes, his brows furrowed and his head tilted.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Your eyes are red,”

“I got soap in my eye,” you say pointedly and he just chuckles, a genuine but soft laugh, his eyes a little brighter for a moment.

“You always do that.”


“Say something as cliché as ‘I got soap in my eye’,” he says, that teasing smile still on his face.

“Yeah, well,” you trail off, giving up on useless excuses and letting your head fall onto his shoulder, glad that he can’t tell when another tear or two fall on his skin. He lifts your head back up though, holding you tighter. Your eyelids flutter closed when he presses his lips to one eye, then the other, then your nose, and finally your lips. His kiss is soft and sweet and full of love, his palms rubbing up and down your back as his skin against yours warms you under the cool water.

You break the kiss, reaching up to trace his lips, grazing the backs of your fingers gently along his cheek, smiling when he leans into your touch, his eyes closed and his hair soaking wet and hanging partially over his head. You push the wet strands back, leaning up to kiss his head briefly before exploring his skin with your lips, trailing your mouth from the curve of his jaw to that sensitive spot near his adorably small ear, down to the crook of his neck. He watches you the whole time, biting his lip a little roughly when you nip gently at his collarbone, trailing kisses along the birds inked onto his chest. You work your way back up painfully slowly, kissing every inch of skin that you can, breathing softly against his lips before planting a warm, desperate kiss there. He responds with such pleasure, a plea in his kiss for this to never end, so clear in how he holds you and how his lips move against yours that it hurts. You feel the ache of him not being with you already, but you push it away, the way he’s touching you and how strong and protective his tattooed arms feel around you making your heart hammer in your chest as your hand twists into his curls, the other curled around the back of his neck to keep him pressed against you. You kiss like that till you’re out of breath, till your hearts beat so fast it makes you tired, till your lips are pink and puffy and all you can do is rest against each other, lazily lathering each other up because he knows and you know that you have to go soon, but neither one of you says it. The look in one another’s eyes is enough.



“Do you mind passing me my bag, please?”

“Yeah, I do mind, actually.”

He keeps pouting, keeps grabbing at you to pull you closer to him. You shake your head, giggling at his words. You’re trying to not be so down about it, trying to tell yourself that he’ll be home again after an eventually that’ll only feel so long because it’s him and his stupidly long hugs and kisses you’ll be waiting for.

“C’mon,” you wine playfully and he stands his ground, shaking his head again and not moving an inch.

You roll your eyes at him and cross the room to grab it yourself, ignoring his frustrated sigh. You dig through your clothes for a top to throw on and then start folding and rolling clothes so everything fits as it did when you first arrived. You try not to turn around and look Harry in the eyes despite being able to feel his gaze burning into you, his arms crossed behind his head and his legs outstretched as he lies on top of the bedspread, his t-shirt and underwear sticking to his damp skin and his wet curls leaving a mark on the pillow. You grab a pair of jeans that are comfortable enough to spend a few hours on a plane in and pull them up, briefly meeting Harry’s gaze when the denim covers up the lace underwear he’d been admiring. You can’t tell by looking at him that he’s trying to not watch you get dressed, but he can’t turn his stare away from you. As much as he wants to look away, to avoid seeing you getting dressed because he knows it means you’re leaving, he can’t.

You fix yourself up, but don’t fuss too much, too lazy to do all your make up to sit on a flight for hours anyway, and you notice when you catch Harry’s reflection in the mirror that he looks a little more down now, the frustration gone from his face and replaced with a pure and very obvious sadness. You open your mouth to speak, but his voice starts first.

“You’re not really going to leave, are you?” he asks sadly, and you’re not sure if he’s asking you directly or just saying it to the space around you.

“I wish I wasn’t,” you reply, turning around to face him and letting yourself be swept into his grip when he sits up on the bed, his legs parted so you can stand in between them, his chin propped up on your tummy as he looks up at you.

“Can’t you come back in bed? Just for a little while?”


“You’ll make your flight, if not I’m sure there’s a later one you can take.”

“I can’t, Harry, I’m sorry.”

You run your fingers through his wet curls, brushing them back and scratching your nails gently against the back of his neck, aware of how much the gesture soothes him. You step away after a moment, finish getting your things together and constantly look over to see him looking down, playing with his own fingers since he can’t play with yours. You remember to pull out a couple of his t-shirts that you know he’ll probably want, smiling to yourself because you packed too many to take home for yourself. You fold each of them neatly, leaving them in a small pile on the bed. Your motion catches his eye and he looks over his shoulder, reaching out to grab the t-shirt at the top of the small pile to give back to you.

“Keep this one, I know it’s your favorite.”

“It’s your favorite, too. And I have clothes at home. You need to keep some of this.”

“I could always buy more. Just take this one,” he says, a sad smile on his face when you mush your face into it, squeezing it back into your bag.

“Thank you, babe.”

“It’s just a t-shirt, love,” he says, climbing off the bed to wrap you in his arms. “And you know I’d do anything for you, anyway.”

“I know,” you say, your words muffled by his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll do anything for me?” he says, his voice trailing off suggestively.

“Oh, Harry, please,” you whine, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him and shaking your head shamefully.

“C’mon, love,” he whines back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Come get back in bed with me.”

“No, babe, I’m sorry, I have to finish getting my stuff together I have to go.”

“Please, love, p-“

“Harry, you know I’d love to stay but I can’t, I really can’t and I’m sorry. I don’t want to go home without you, I’d rather not go home at all, but-“

“Then don’t. Stay with me,” he says, following close behind you after you’ve left his arms, gathering your bags and checking through your hotel room to make sure you’ve left nothing behind. You don’t say a word, trying to pretend he’s not speaking, trying even harder to not let him persuade you. He grabs your bag that keeps bumping against your hip to stop you from moving any further and you sigh in defeat when he pulls it off your shoulder and drops it to the floor.

“Look, I know you have work and everything. But what’s another weekend when you’ve already been gone two weeks huh?”


“Please, love. I- I don’t want to be here without you. I know I have to be at some point, but i finally have a full weekend off and it’s the weekend you have to leave and it’s not fair. Why can’t we have just a little more time, love?” he says softly, his palms pressed to your cheeks holding your face up so you can’t look away from him.

“Harry, I need to go,” you say softly, letting your gaze drop to the floor.

“I don’t want you to,” he says firmly, searching for your eyes till they meet his again. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he confesses, his voice softer.

“It’s not goodbye, Harry,” you say comfortingly, reaching up to lay your hand atop his own. “It’s see you soon, it’s never goodbye.”

“See you soon is just goodbye for a little while,” he argues.

“Exactly. A little while.”

“A little while is too long,” he replies quickly, watching as you remove his hands from your face, locking your fingers together in between your bodies. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he repeats, lifting your fingers to his lips and kissing one, then the back of your hand. “I just want you to stay with me, we can hide up here in the room and- and just be together all weekend, yeah? One weekend, that’s all,” he says, squeezing your hand, gently guiding you away from the door and back to the bedroom.

“Harryyyy,” you grumble at him, letting him pull you back to the bedroom in spite of yourself.

“You know you want to stay,” he teases, letting you go only to bound happily back onto the bed and land on his stomach, his mischievous gaze bright and burning into your own eyes.

“Of course I want to…”

“Then you’re going to, okay?”

You shake your head, unable to contain your laughter when he pulls you down on top of him, holding you tight and rolling you over so he’s on top of you, his damp curls hanging over his face and shrouding him from the light.

“One weekend,” he repeats the words, the best idea you’ve heard in a while.

You ponder for a moment, refusing to meet his eyes.

“One weekend?” you finally meet his eyes, failing to hide your smile.

He rolls his eyes, resting his forehead on yours. “Playing hard to get now? What, are you 14?”

“Hey!” you scold, shoving him off you and he collapses into laughter, his shoulders lifting off the bed with each giggle that leaves his lips.

His laughter fades and you don’t realize how the little smile on your face and your starry eyed stare may be coming off a little creepy. He clears his throat and traces his finger along your jaw, his smile faltering till his lips have taken on that almost pouty look, but of course that’s just how his lips look all the time.

“So you’ll stay?” he asks with hope in his eyes and you just let your head loll forward till it touches his shoulder, nuzzling against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and breathing in his scent.

“I got back in bed, didn’t I?”

“Oh, thank you thank you thank you,” he says excitedly, jumping up and sweeping you into his arms, squeezing tight and muffling his stream of ‘thank you’s when he buries his face in your neck, his curls tickling your skin.

“Oh, I have to call to cancel my flights and everything and book ano-“

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it,” he assures you, distracting you with more kisses. You nod, quick to forget about your worries when being in his arms feels this good, this relaxing.

“So…” you start when he finally meets your eyes again, tucking a loose curl back where it belongs. “One weekend. Got any plans for me?”

“Welllll,” he says, his voice becoming higher pitched as he draws out the word, earning a soft giggle from you. “We’ve got this whole room to ourselves, so I’m thinking we take advantage,” he suggests, nuzzling against your neck and you push him playfully away, grabbing his face in your hands to stop another assault of kisses, his new favorite thing to do apparently.

“Don’t you think we’ve done enough of that?” you tell him and he feigns horror, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.

“There’s never enough of that, love, how could you even suggest such a thing?”

“Oh, please,” you mumble, shoving his forehead away softly and smirking when he quickly leans back into you, kissing your shoulder and then your lips.

“I’ll do whatever you want, love,” he says then, his breath fanning gently over your lips.

“I was gonna say that,” you whisper through your smile, nipping his lower lip playfully.

“I thought we’ve done enough of what I wanted,” he taunts, trying to keep the humor in his voice even when you grind softly against his crotch, locking your arms tighter around him.

“Maybe. But I think this calls for celebration, right? Even if celebrating is just a lot more of-”

You kiss him then, a slow, hungry kiss, a kiss with maybe just a little too much teeth and bumping noses, a kiss that could beat even the passion of the hardest, longest goodbye kiss.


You rub your thumbs against his skin, his cheeks cupped in your hands, his head tilted slightly to the left, leaning into your palms and his mouth slightly open like he’s waiting for you to kiss him again. He bats his eyes open and you do give him a quick peck on the lips, laughing wildly when he tackles you, back onto the bed, pinning you down beneath him.

“I want us to kiss like that forever,” he says then, nudging your nose with his, kissing you just below your eye.

“We will,” you promise, letting your mouth melt against his when he lowers himself against you, his hips rolling into yours.

“I’m so glad you’re staying,” he says when he abruptly breaks your kiss, his forehead resting against yours again, one of your favorite views.

“Me too,” you agree, your voice soft, your heart racing, saying goodbye being the farthest thing from your mind right now. You’ve got two more days with him, two full days of obnoxious numbers of kisses and constant play fighting and loving each other like a couple of teenagers. You promise yourself to make the most of it, and before you can even think of getting sad about the limit on your time together, you lose yourself in how wonderfully messy his kisses are becoming, how you both keep pushing against each other, like you’re dying to be closer, like just one weekend isn’t going to be nearly enough.