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mochamvgz · 17 days

Text

made with love.p.jay

; a warm meal with your partner was all you needed after a hectic month

; park jongseong x reader

; genre: fluff, non-idol au

; warnings: talk of exhaustion

; 0.7k words

; tags: @inkelea @sobun1est @kbookshelf

; divider cr: @plutism (i can't believe I forgot to credit them earlier 😭😭 if you're reading this i'm so so sorry)

you entered the passcode to your studio apartment, letting yourself in after being met with an affirmative *beep*

after carelessly tossing your backpack onto the kitchen counter, you miraculously managed to drag yourself to your bed, collapsing on it right away

thank god it's saturday tomorrow

that was the only thought in your mind at present. you'd had a hectic week—no, a hectic fortnight...or was it a month...? your pre-existing headache grew worse as you tried to recall so you gave up eventually

your eyelids grew heavy and just as you were about to board your train to dreamland, star lost by stray kids started playing from the front pocket of your pants. wait, no, that couldn't be right. pockets don't make sounds...oh, it was only your phone ringing

an annoyed grunt escaped your mouth before you checked the caller id. a tired but genuine smile speak across your face when you saw who it was. you accepted the call and put it on speaker

"how's my girl doing?"

you could almost hear the smile in jay's voice, which, in turn, made your own smile widen. "i'm feeling pretty wiped honestly"

jay knew that, he'd noticed the way your smile didn't reach your eyes these days, how your shoulders seemed deflated, the way you looked as if you could pass out at any given moment. of course, he'd be there to catch you if you did

"have you had anything to eat yet?"

"no...sorry"

jay had expected as much

"want me to come over? i can make you something to eat, and then we could cuddle or watch a movie or something"

"yes please, i could really use your cuddles. only if it's not too much of a bother, of course"

"nothing's ever a bother when it comes to you. i'll be there in 10. wait for me, yeah?"

you hummed in response and hung up with an "i love you" which he mirrored back. his soft voice when he spoke to you always warmed your heart. you dozed off thinking about how you truly had the best boyfriend ever

the clatter of pots and pans jolted you awake

you screwed your eyes shut as a groan escaped you, the blaring headache coming back. you heard someone cursing, probably the same person responsible for the racket that disrupted your sleep

sitting up, you began to rub your eyes when you heard a sequence of frantic footsteps, getting progressively closer, and then a pair of arms wrapping around you

you looked up to see jay with an apologetic expression on his face

"i'm soo sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I was trying to be quiet but..."

you mumbled an "it's okay" while hugging him back. after staying in that position for some time, jay broke the silence

"how about you wash up yeah? i'll be in the kitchen"

you noded, shooting him a smile—which he returned—before getting up and making your way to your bathroom

when you came back out, feeling considerably more rested and energized, you found your bed was made, and your previously-cluttered desk was much tidier. a smile made it's way on your face, knowing it could be none other than jay's work

jay noticed you as you approached the kitchen counter, his face lighting up

"you're right on time for dinner!"

"dinner? don't you mean lunch?"

he tilted his head a little to the side in confusion

"it's 7:00 p.m. sweetie"

"already??? have i been out for that long? why didn't you wake me up??"

jay chuckled, "you looked so cute sleeping, i didn't wanna wake you. plus, you seemed like you needed it"

"fair enough"

by then jay announced dinner was ready so you helped him set the table and sat down for dinner. the noodles he'd made were simply delectable. it reminded you of the way you used to make them with your sister. you mentioned it to him among other compliments

"well, where do you think I got the recipe?" he winked. your mouth fell open. no way.

"i literally love you so much"

"love you too" he replied with his adorable smile

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 1 year

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I like your page, but for the last couple of days, it's been all about Emma and the domestic case. It's a little too much tbh (similar to the gftwd page when it was all about Frances). I think we all agree that we don't like her, so why waste our energy on her. Even if everyone in Hollywood would cancel her, Evan would probably stick up for her. I rather read some damn tea about the man. For example Alexia sexy blog about him.

i think it's worth talking about since i am sure you're not the only one who feels this way, not just about this topic but certainly about others. as far as i'm concerned it is perfectly fine to not be interested or enjoy certain topics we cover on this blog and want to sit them out; it's conversational, and more often than not there are multiple different topics simultaneously going on. i am here for discussion, and as i said in the beginning, this blog belongs to those that send messages in and engage as much as it does to me, and no reasonable topic will be barred. that means i am not always going to be at the steering wheel, but chances are i will have something to say.

i think the interesting thing i have learned over the past couple of months is that every week or two we kind of focus on a different topic, but it just happens organically. we also talk about things that seem to not be accepted on other platforms. and that's kind of the beauty of it: if you wanna talk about alexia, you can just send me an ask and we will talk about it. i see you don't follow me, and i am not cluttering evan's tags with the 20 DV discussion posts. or any posts, because i seldom tag anymore. so many new, bothersome (now blocked) people found me in the wake of the haley/evan reveal and they were sending in nasty, hateful things about her. i have probably deleted well over 100 asks. i don't need those followers. i would rather engage with the really cool, fun people who are already here.

also, it tickles me that whenever someone wants to burn me they compare me to gftwd, like she is donald trump or something lol ironically though, her page quite literally began as an effort to expose frances' misbehavior. so it was not unreasonable that all her posts were about fran, that was literally what any follower of hers signed up for. and so long as the critique was fair, there's nothing wrong with it. the issue that myself and many others found was the direction it ultimately took, in regards to the type of comments and criticism being made. i also think it's apples to oranges if someone were to compare the two, but that's because of my own personal belief system and how i feel about domestic abuse. i will outright tell you that i could not give a rat's ass if someone comes here and says something diabolical about emma, because she did something i view as evil, and the people who perpetrate a narrative that shames, blames and accuses a victim of DV are absolute scum in my eyes. i see frances as an irritant, a pest with a grating internet persona - but ultimately, she is nothing to lose sleep over. and i do not let people come on here and say cruel things about her for that reason.

#weee a long post #i like to type

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thedarkmistress16 · 1 year

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If you do reblog from other people, do you recommend it? Is there a system? how would you organize what posts are your own art?

Kinda depends on how you want your blog to be/look. Some reblog posts without any add. commentary attached, use a simple tag, or write essays or actively engage in discussions. So it depends on the blog itself, really, and what the intent is: is it just for reblogs? do you plan on writing your own posts? Is this a q&a blog? art only? submissions? are you being a troll, a fictional character/rp or yourself? Completely random or organized? So if you want a specific and consistent theme/aesthetic/niche, you can always start up a side blog if you wanna keep your main as is (if you already have one). In regards to recommending reblogs, which I do, I would recommend it on the basis that it's the main feature of tumblr apart from asks and submissions and the archive. And I would especially encourage it so if people follow you, they'll see your reblogs on their homepage (from my understanding). It also helps boost posts or blogs you want to support in the algorithm for others to see and helps you connect with others. What I don't really recommend when it comes to reblogs is constantly reblogging your own posts- it's not my preference (I personally think it clutters blogs and makes scrolling through them more tedious when the same thing keeps coming up with a slight variation each time- that really only works for unintended humor for me) and I think tumblr blaze is that function of promoting your own posts now? I made up my own tagging system as of late that I'm in the process of overhauling now since I'm actually a lot more active now. I'll schedule that post the day after this ask is released so you can see what I mean! Anyway, there's only a system if you make one for your blog. there are a lot of common tags like "#mine," "#my art," "#not mine," etc. that you can utilize. I went the route of trying to find tags that are exclusive to my blog and/or are not as popular, which many users do "#insert something about the queue here" or "#(insert blog's name here) art." But basically, I sort my art from my writing and from my non-art/non-shitpost posts. I have the occasional generic ones like "#callout post to me" as well, but I tend to be specific in my categories and tags and that's why I have "my posts," "art," and "writing" post tags rather than an all-encompassing "mine" tag for every post.

#ask for moi #long post alert #hopefully this ramble is helpful

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mimimarilynart · 3 years

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October 2021

#succulents #my plants #mimimarilynart #October 2021 #personal #rambles #posting this at 3am and a bit of /journaling/ in the tags #wanna get a bit of things off my chest before my mind gets cluttered up with thoughts again #sooo I haven't been keeping track of how long I stopped using tumblr and ig entirely (also my personal email) due to some anxiety struggles #for the last 18 months or so I kind of got progressively more burnt out with my job + felt my social anxiety worsening #plus being stuck at home almost all the time + dealing with having one more parent living at home = my *battery* eroded significantly #I chose to disengage with apps and media platforms bcs a major trigger I deal with on the daily is my inbox #notifications in general and the idea of having to read/respond/act to others became a majorly upsetting and draining activity #I know this isn't okay but I've always known and accepted the fact that I'm a person with very limited social energy #it takes a very long time for me to recover from social interactions and I couldn't afford to deplete more than what I have #and bcs my job has been 100% remote this became a major issue with communications via tech #it severely impacted my sleep and rest quality which I'm still working on to fix #there's also some plans that couldn't happen due to covid and it's been very depressing #overall I just had to minimize any activity that created more stress in my head #I don't know if this is something I can get help with but I feel like it's more on me to find a better mode that works #I haven't really been drawing for almost a year except minor attempts but I think that's a mistake #there's specific persons and things keeping me going but I want to do more for my wellbeing so I don't feel like I'm unworthy at times #for a number of months I really didn't have any spare time energy left from coping with life and job in general #drawing still is my favourite hobby and I realized how happy it makes me even if I can only doodle with a pencil #but I will try to do a better job at balancing my day schedule #new hobby I picked up this year is crochet/yarn work and it's been helping a lot with calming myself when things feel overwhelming #tomorrow I'll try to post a doodle dump before my little holiday officially ends #I hope next year things will be better for a change #if anyone needs a therapeutic and affordable activity I recommend yarn crafts

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romeulusroy · 3 years

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Uncomplicated (Steve Rogers Oneshot)

Character/s: Steve

Word Count: 1,179

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @lotsoffandomrecs @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon

A/N: Someone very close to me told me something like this a while back, that I'm a hard person to love, and it's been stuck in my head, so I guess I wanted to make it into something more positive :) Who else to do it better with than my #1 Mans? It's not my best in the whole world, but oh well :P Anyways, this is a lil reminder that no matter what anyone says, you are loved and it is so easy to love you. Nothing you could ever do could change my mind. Hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: Love can be simple, even when it's never felt like it 💕

Gif Credit: @anakinskywalk :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

"You are an incredibly hard person to love."

A fact, maybe one they'd read in passing, reciting verbatim. A poem, their words dipped in heartache and honey. A song, their pitch light and effortless. Something of meaning, of substance, instead of the cold truth. A truth, in their eyes, instead of something that's used to kill. Hard. To love. Questioning the root of the anger, the distaste, the disgust. An indifference so pure, so untouched, it's almost perfect. Almost. Tiles cracked, split right down the middle. Hard, and angry, the kindest place to rest your weary, aching head. The lines in your skull aligning perfectly, as if it had been the source of destruction, the source of smashing,the source of rage. As if you had been the weapon all along. Sometimes, that's what love felt like, their love. You were sure, somewhere out there, someone else's love could be gentle, affectionate, painted in pastels and kissed, cheek to cheek, each night. Love could be patient, understanding, it had the potential to be pure of heart. Theirs was not, and you were never quite sure why. Cracked open. Red seeping between your teeth, your gums, spitting, drooling iron. A heaviness deeper than bone marrow, than the center of the universe. Old wounds open, gaping, hemorrhaging, curious fingers picking, plucking, tearing away scar tissue, scab after scab. They did this because they loved you, because that's what others had done to them, but you couldn't help but question, why in the world would they want to willingly hurt someone because they themselves had been hurt?

You can picture it. The ease of it all. An effortless kind of feeling, light, airy. Nothing that sits on your shoulders, nothing that stifles your sobs, nothing that leaves you shaking, cowering, begging for something, anything, to change.

This is bare soles against the cold wooden floorboards. A refreshing stir midst the summer heat. Avoiding the creaks and crevasses of each board, floating down the staircase of such a place. No worries of slipping. That kind of pain doesnt live in a place like this. Along the wall there are framed pictures of every shape and size. Old and new, him, you, the both of you, black and white, fraying at the ends, all of them smiling through the glass, knowing they're exactly where they should be. You could still feel the ache in your sides, the tears down your cheeks, the laughter that refused to stop, unable to catch your breath. He clung, sure you'd find your way to the bottom, a hammer in his other hand. Another nail poked through too far, just like the others. Assuring him you could do it, but always too stubborn, wanting to try again. All this time, and still so forgetful, his own strength slipping his mind. Now, the walls themselves are bloated and sweating, cursed by the heat, the warmth, the humidity, waiting for the sun to settle. You can hear him, on the porch, the door open, screen letting in what little breeze there is. Calling his name because it's the sweetest word you know, wanting nothing more than to be with him, the distance between you already too great, too much.

This is shooing away the bugs when the stars come to play. Temmperature dropping, his arm around you, doing his best to protect you from the onset of shivering. Together, at last. Nothing but the crickets, the buzzing of a new world come to life, come to play, and the sway of the tall grass can be heard. Constellations sprinkled across the abyss, watching you like you watch them. He tells you all he knows, the stories of men long dead, war torn bones, the comfort they found in the same night sky as you did. You rest your head against him, close enough to hear his steady breathing, a sound you find yourself lulled to sleep by each night. There's a calm in the air, bright like the fireflies, one you can't find anywhere else, nor would you want to. Your own slice of heaven. Stripped of nothing but the smallest wonders of life. The breeze against your skin, nuzzled against your face, reminding you that you're alive, that there is so much more out there than what you see and feel right now.

This is a home alone, in need of space. Escaping the clutter, the noise, wanting more room to breathe. Escaping the noise, and the terror that comes with it. Space to grow, to thrive, to be allowed to change. Stifled for too many years, suffocated under the weight of others. Now it was only two, and that was okay. He is always nearby, reaching out, pulling you close, talking even when he's far away. His hand outstretched waiting for your own. Long walks through the grass, picking flowers, watching the birds and bunnies, naming them one by one. There are no expectations. Nothing waiting home to do, or wanting to be done. Things are as they are, and that's all. He stares, though not the way they used to. His jaw is not tight, his eyes are not narrowed, there is no flinch at the anticipation of words he dould never take back. He stares in awe, wearing a hint of a smirk, a light in his eyes settled sweetly. Sometimes you're able to catch him, your skin burning, looking away before he sees. Sometimes you don't, and those are his favorite moments, when you let him get lost in all your littlest details, reminding him again and again, why he fell for you.

This is the kind of love, of life you used to dream of, hope for, wasting every shooting star and eyelash on what you have now. The ones who weaponize their love, who use it as a means of getting what they want, who only love you for what you do, and not solely for your existence, are gone. They can't touch you anymore. The wounds they left are healing slowly. Sometimes, something will tug at them, snagging on a sharp corner or a distant memory, and it will reopen. Those are the days you fear the only thing you're good for is bleeding out. He's there now, doing what he can, cleaning up the mess. He doesn't always understand, he can't, but that doesn't stop him from trying, and it doesn't stop you from trusting him.

Suddenly, though you guess not so suddenly, the saying is no longer jaded or jagged. It's sharp, pointed ends slicing you through and through are dulled, softer now, tracing your skin instead of slicing. The ways in which they prettied up their words grow old, lipstick smeared, mascara run. This love is not that. It's not dolled up, or pretending to be soft. His words, like himself, are thoughtful, chosen with care, with patience, spoken so softly you can barely hear, as if any louder, something inside might suddenly crack. . . .

"You are an incredible person, so much so, it's impossible not fall in love."

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