#new fear unlocked lmaoooo

[shdwtouch]

I feel the need to discuss something real quick. confronting someone on anon, even with the best intentions, is NOT the same as approaching someone about a problem. first of all, it's a very one-sided communication, essentially the receiver responding to a nameless heckler in a crowd of people.

secondly, I've stated times before that I genuinely try to be open-minded and empathetic when folks come to me with issues. especially when it involves my behavior. I want to learn to be a better person, truly. however, anon communication doesn't account into this. there is very little room for dialogue, and the public setting makes the communication even more difficult and - this is important to remember ! - STRESSFUL FOR THE RECEIVER.

it's also like, if you want to talk to me you have to be respectful. respect me enough to talk to me one on one. respect me enough not to put me on the spot.

I'm just. still thinking about that anon. :,) and wanted to say something in case folks thought my reaction was a "gotcha" to my claim of being open to communication and problem solving. I'm also like. I have things I want to say about it ? but honestly that anon doesn't deserve the grace of my response, and I shouldn't have to defend or explain myself to faceless nitpicks.

idk if this makes sense but. I wanted to say something because it's been bothering me since yesterday. I'm gonna do my best not to discuss the anon further, but it really did stress me out so. please be patient with me.

[partyluvr]

MULIEBRITY, mark lee

in which mark lee falls in love with his bisexual bestfriend.

downbad!mark x fem!reader

status: on going

chapter vi. boyyyy (warning: 18+, male masturbation)

prev | next

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

ever since the hand holding fiasco, mark has been absolutely restless. he was so grateful you didn’t make it weird, or make it a bigger deal than it actually is. but no matter how much mark tried to be normal about it, he just couldn’t.

your hands were so soft. those body lotions you lither your body with everyday works wonder, apparently. mark found himself daydreaming about that day in the theater. he even fell asleep thinking about it once. he replayed that moment over and over again in his head. he felt like a freak.

mark promised himself he wouldn’t jerk off to the thought of holding hands with you. he promised himself he wouldn’t taint such pure, adorable memory just because he was too horny to function. he promised himself he wouldn’t stoop that low.

but of course it was painfully obvious that the promise was unattainable from the get go. mark lasted a few days being normal about it, but he could only hold on for so long.

he let out a hiss as he pumped his hand around his shaft. droplets sweats dribbling down his neck, mark tried his best to suppress his moans. he wanted nothing but to moan out your name, groaning and grunting as if you were actually here with him. but he felt weird being so vocal and loud when it was just him alone in his room. good lord, he didn’t even need to watch porn to get himself going. mark himself was surprised he could get an erection that hard from just the memory of holding your hand.

he picked up his pace feeling as his orgasm was near. he tried his best to picture you in his mind, just the thought of you naked in his bed is enough to make him come undone. he hissed when he accidentally gripped his cock a little too tight, the friction from his ring he forgot to take off took him by surprise. he imagine he’d hiss or grunt the same way had you were giving him head and accidentally grazed your teeth over his cock. he would hiss in reflex but he would reassure you that it’s okay. he would caress your head softly. he wouldn’t let you apologize for it because he didn’t want you to feel bad.

“it’s okay, keep going.” mark wanted to bury himself alive after he said those words out loud. but his intense orgasm was so close he couldn’t care less. he would deal with it once his post nut clarity hits.

for now, he just wanted to come.

his phone buzzed signaling a new message coming and it fell from the table since he had put it so near to the edge. mark jumped in his seat from the loud thud, immediately let go of his grip from his cock to bend down and safe his phone, fearing the impact would break his screen.

it didn’t, but the glimpse of the notification on his screen pushed mark to the conclusion that he would not be finishing his little jerking off daydreaming session.

johnny’s contact name from the imessage notifications on his lockscreen was enough to make his dick the softest it has ever been. clicking his tongue, mark unlocked his phone.

johnny: you up?

“why is he texting me like a booty call..” mark muttered to himself.

mark: can u pick a worse time to text me

johnny: lmaooo were you beating your meat or something

clicking his tongue once more, mark typed a reply before deleting it. he was too pissed about not finishing he didn’t have any energy to entertaining johnny.

another text from him came before mark had the chance to lock his phone.

johnny: LMAOOOO YOU WERE

mark: shut the fuck up

mark: what do u want

johnny: LMAOOOO

johnny: were you thinking of her?

mark: can u shut the fuck up

mark: she’s my bestfriend ur so weird

johnny: LMAOOO YOU WERE

johnny: boy i didn’t even name her

johnny: i could be talking about jaehyun’s girlfriend

mark: why tf would i jerk off to jaehyun’s gf

johnny: exactly

mark: what do you want

johnny: nothing, i’m just bored

johnny: and now i’m not anymore

johnny: so are you ever going to tell her how you feel?

mark: who?

johnny: BOY 😂😂😂

mark: can u pls be normal i really dont have time for this

johnny: mark you know she’s into guys right

johnny: you know she’s not a lesbian right

johnny: it’s important that you know this

mark: ofc i know

mark: doesn’t make any difference

mark: she doesn’t look at me like that

johnny: like what

mark: like she’s into me

johnny: and do you think you look at her like you’re into her?

mark: yeah?

mark: probably idk

johnny: BOYYYY 😂😂😂😂😂

mark: i’m actually gonna fucking block u

johnny: mark

johnny: you look at her like she’s gonna take your lunch money

johnny: ever since you realize you had a crush on her you’ve been so nervous

johnny: im surprised she never noticed how nervous you are

johnny: maybe she’s just as dumb as you are

johnny: AYEE maybe yall are meant for each other

mark clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that johnny might be right. has he not been obvious this whole time? maybe the reason he’s stuck in this friend zone is because he has been treating you like a friend. does that mean he needs to do more? to make sure you know that he wants more?

mark: idk what to do man

mark: i don’t wanna ruin what i have with her

mark: but u know how much i like her

johnny: believe me i know

johnny: jaehyun’s girlfriend also knows

johnny: remember at jaehyun’s place when you cant stop talking about her and jaehyun’s girlfriend was the only one listening and responding to you because jaehyun and i were lowkey over it

mark: fuck u

johnny: my point is

johnny: you want this so bad

johnny: do something

johnny: make it happen

johnny: dont just jerk off to her and write sad ig captions about how misunderstood you are

mark: i fucking hate u

johnny: mark

johnny: you’re cool, you’re good looking, you know her better than anyone else

johnny: it’s worth a try

mark: did u just call me handsome

mark: gay

johnny: you know what i hope she dates jaemin instead

mark: NOOO PLS SHE THINKS HE’S HOT

mark: okay i get ur point

mark: i’ll stop wallowing in my self pity

mark: thanks dad

johnny: anytime kid

johnny: now go bust a fat one for me, will ya

johnny: 😘😘

mark chuckled before locking his phone, carelessly throwing it to his bed. he sighed before resting his back onto his seat. closing his eyes, images of you started flooding his mind. you were so beautiful, mark always wondered why was there ever a time when he wasn’t foolishly in love with you.

it took him not even a minute to go from having flashes of images of you in his head, to fully imagining and picturing his fantasy of you naked.

fuck, he’s hard again.

he’ll think of ways to steal your heart later. he’ll swoop you off your feet and make sure you’re just as head over heels as he is. he can deal with that later. for now, he needs to deal with his hard cock slapping against his tummy.

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

taglist: @spiderm444rk

i took my quepiatine before this im drowsing off as im posting it im sorry its not proofread

[minyoongislaysme]

People sweat out the food they predominantly eat and if you combine that with a lack of higiene, (sometimes it’s just different genetics, no matter how much you shower) no wonder we all “stink” to each other.

[gatorademachinegun]

mermaids, men, and gators

working title: LMAOOOO WHAT IS A CONSTANT TENSE I DONT KNOW HER

notes: i wrote this back in september 2018 when my theme was the green gators blog but i was a chicken about posting it till right this second. so. have this i guess.

dedication: @xxsirensong both this and the entire green gator theme started with you Linda, ily

When you come to visit us down here in swampland, don’t go into the water. Don't go near it.

Stay with the people, on dry land, away from the Fishies.

That's what Old Uncle John will call them. Fishies. You'll know them by a different name, they're probably why you came down to visit if you're being perfectly honest with yourself. You came to see the Mermaids. Sirens. Fishies. They go by many names and if you follow the river down into the swamp you'll find them.

Gossamer and gorgeous, almost out of place in the dirty greens and grays of the swamp, but then again. You can only see half of them. Who knows what the delicate trail of teal green scales leads to other than the water.

Stay out of the water. You're too close already. A quick peak is all She'll allow. Better get out quick before one of your beauties signals for Her.

Old Uncle John has nothing good to say about Her.

"She's mean," he'll say, "She'd be prettier if she smiled but then you'd see the blood she's covered in!" the young ones don’t like stories about Her, but once Old John gets going.....

"Evil, she's pure evil. Nasty ass bitch never shoulda-" he'll stop here and rub at his bad eye, mangled under the too big sunglasses he wears. Someone bought him an eye patch for Christmas one year. He doesn’t use it.

If you probe for answers he’ll only get nastier, accent thickening like good white gravy until even Aunt Myra can’t understand anything other than the occasionally swear word. She’ll tell you to get him drunk and then ask. You make the mistake of taking her advice when you stumble back into town, muddy from the waist down and blabbering about mermaids.

A fifth of whiskey and a question about how to get the mud out of you jeans is all it takes to him talking. Asking you if you went down to that ‘damned swamp’ and following up with ‘you did dincha!’ complete with a swat to the head. Aunt Myra smiles in sympathy from the kitchen but doesn't step in. ‘You wanted this, remember?’ her eyes seem to say. You do.

A few hedged questions about his own jeans and then John’s eyes unfocus, lost in the past.

It starts with a pretty girl, as most of Old Uncle John’s stories do.

A pretty girl, a reckless boy and the swamp.

He sees her when he’s messing around with his friends in the creek, just a flicker of dark hair and a gentle laugh. Hushed whispers and some jostling gets his buddies to shut up long enough for them all to notice her, chest deep in the mud, smiling like it’s the last day of school.

They’ll ask if she’s stuck. She’ll move backwards in answers, the heavy mud parting like water for her. It’s in her hair. Johnny doesn't care.

He chases her, running, tripping in his haste, and falling with a wet splat while she laughs at him, low and loud. He’ll walk home muddy everyday if she laughs like that again. With a wink she stands and mud clings to a heavy, bare, chest.

Someone whistles behind him and moves closer. She does the same, something a little too sharp to be curious but a little to open to be menacing. Her eyes are as brown as the mud around them.

When she’s close enough Johnny goes cross eyed looking at her the world explodes with movement.

Someone's yelling, another’s got her by the arm, John’s got a handful of something he’s got no business touching according to his ma but his conscious quiets when they all collectively pull

She’s got a tail.

It’s twice as big around as Johnny is, even with the bulk football gave him, and covered in mud, moss, and shimmering green scales so dark they’re almost black.

Then she snarls, claws a good hunk of meat off of John’s face and rips whoever’s got her arm, shoulder right out of its socket.

They’ll find Johnny sobbing into the mud a while later, hands clapped to his face, blood running down his arms, no mermaid in sight.

When he comes back to himself, back to Old Uncle John and away from Young Little Johnny he’ll rip that second fifth outta you’re fingers and down half it in one go.

That’s all you get out of him that night.

Aunt Myra doesn't look sad when you glance up at her, she’s angry.

You wonder if this is the first time she’s heard about how her husband got his scar

When you ask Freddy, who’s across the street and weak in his shoulder, about it he’ll spit between your shoes and say some impressively unprintable things.

“You leave that gator and that witch alone boy you hear!” he’ll jam a finger into your chest until you have a bruise and are nodding frantically.

You lied to him

The gator piece is new. Aunt Myra shakes her head and tells you Fred went mad a long time ago but the little kids giggle and tell you that the gator shoots a gun.

When you point out that gator’s can't shoot guns Chrissy, the oldest of them all at the ripe old age of 6, will laugh and say “Neither can you!” before running off.

She’s got a point.

Also, mermaids are real. Why can’t gun shooting gators be too?

Your best friend laughs when you tell him. “Mermaids and gun slinging gators? The humidity is getting to you man! Better come home before your brain melts entirely!”

You’ll hang up on him, the asshole.

A picture you decide, milking a glass of orange juice Aunt Myra doesn't know you spiked, get a picture of the mermaids avoid whichever one fucked Uncle John’s face, and become famous for it.

You might have had a little too much of that orange juice.

Strapped into borrowed waders that are too big for you, phone in hand, you’ll be hip deep in mud with a half a mind to quit when you’ll see them.

They’re further in than last time, pushed up on a bank of semi dry sand, speaking in a language you don't realize. You’ve got an eye full of bare skin in long lean lines, that fades into delicate scales until their the size of your palm and colored the same as the marsh plants you fought through to get here.

You’ll barely unlock your phone when one of them sees you and flicks her tail up, sending mud flying. It’ll land dead in front of you, splattering up into your face, and slicking your phone.

By the time you get it out of your eyes, a scaled nose is peeking up from the water, dead in front of you.

Everyone knows, everyone is taught what those are. Gator.

It’s been too long since you’ve visited though, and the lessons are dull in your mind. Do you run? Stay put? Scream?

The decision will be taken from you when She arrives.

You know immediately it’s Her. the one who fucked Old Uncle John’s face.

Hand prints brand her bare chest, a shade of sickly green almost the exact size of your own hand on her breast, you’re only a little older than Uncle John was, you realize with a start.

Another is branded around her upper arm, the same shade of green that makes every buried instinct in you scream of sickness and pain and you have the overwhelming urge to vomit.

She’ll stop you, the murky water and mud parting easily for her, and she’ll grip your jaw in one hand, looming over you.

The gator moves to the side, but you’ll feel it’s breath on the side of your exposed neck, the only think you can focus on whole She yells at you in a language you have no hope of ever understanding.

When She’s done, brown eyes narrowed in rage, you’ll notice the gator skin on her shoulders. Stitched into her flesh, with heavy thread, an armor leading down her back. To where you can't see, head still pulled into an unnatural angle, her grip on your jaw ever tightening with your staring.

Finally She’ll let you go, but Her gator stays, breathing on you with it’s too big nostrils, looking almost gleeful when you spare a glance to check its location. Chrissy will be disappointed you didn't see its gun.

If you survive this that is.

When She drops you, and She will, for not even the merfolk can yell forever, you’ll flounder for balance, Her steady weight gone, no longer holding you up. You hadn't realized you’d slumped into her grip.

She’ll catch you, steady you, but it’s with the prong of a pitchfork. The metal is cold against your back and she’s sneering, lips pulled back to reveal pointed teeth and a algae green tongue that darts out to taste the air.

You are in no position to wonder about snake mermaids in the swamps, because she’s got her pitchfork in your face, one tip indenting the flesh of your cheek. The same spot Uncle John has his scar.

She’ll see the fear flash in your face because her next move is a jerk of the tines, making a shallow cut on your face. It burns the way cuts do when you get dirt in them and your eye will water from the sting of it.

“Never. Again.” She’ll say in careful English, then again in Spanish because you actually paid attention in that class and again in another language, changing each time but the same two words.

She punctuates each languages change with a jab to your chest, ripping your borrowed waders and your shirt until you're back into the river proper, gator still swimming idly beside you.

When she pulls back something ripples behind her, heavy and green.

“Gator,” you breath and glance down at your unwanted buddy. No scales are missing from his hide but that is unmistakable gatorskin that flows from her shoulders. The stitching……

She wields a pitchfork, stands tall on her tail, wears a cape of alligator hide and protects the way she was never protected. Hand prints mar her skin, sickly against smooth flesh and she doesn't cover them, her cape is her only kind of clothing and you’re still not sure if her gator companion wields a gun or not.

You know when you’re not wanted enough to leave before you find out

Aunt Myra scolds you for leaving like that and ripping a good pair of waders but won't hear anything about mermaids or alligators.

Your best friend thinks it’s the funniest shit when you call him, crowing about humidity and going crazy. You don't hang up, but you touch the cut on your cheek, and the scraps on your chest. You’re not crazy.

You leave shortly after that, mad that you’re phone is ruined no good pictures at all, a wasted trip. Your mad about Her roughing you up, mad about that damn gator who shoots better than you do.

Old Uncle John has a drink with you before your drive back home, and both of you are muttering about ‘damn Fishies’ before the bottle is even halfway gone.

.

.

.

Across the swamp, across the sea, She sighs and stitches another scale into her cape. Humans will never learn to leave well enough alone. They will never understand Her pain.

The butt of her pitchfork slams against the riverbed rhythmically, calling.

As the water around Her ripples she sets aside her needle and rises, watching Her Sisters rally to her cry

Since they do not learn, they will drown.

And the Waters will be all the better for it

[leciell]

Ah. Was tagged by @redroseoftheriver x'D so I guess I'll try this too!

Rules: Copy this into a new text post, replace my answers with yours, and tag 10 people.

A - age: older than most of my toukenmyubois LMAOOOO so lets leave it at that ahahaha

B - biggest fear: heights LOL???

C - current time: 12:15am

D - drink you last had: Water

E - every day starts with: crying. checking twitter & emptying bladder / Wash face

F - favourite song: Aishitenai by Acid Black Cherry

G - ghosts, are they real?: Yes

H - hometown: some island in Asia lolll

I - in love with:  Ryogi

J - jealous of: the burrito that my dog looks at more than me.

K - killed someone: in-game

L - last time you cried: this morning reading TKRB interviews

M - middle name: starts with a B and it does not end with a H

N - number of siblings: 3

O - one wish: collect enough beads to unlock sword dad x'D

P - person you last texted: my brother

Q - questions you’re always asked: Do you not love yourself?

R - reasons to smile: butai boys

S - song last sang: Sakura Ame - Sug

T - time you woke up: 11AM

U - underwear color: black

V - vacation destination: Kyoto

W - worst habit: always late

X - x-rays you’ve ever had: broken / sprained arm. Sprained leg/ankle. Stomach for gallbladder surgery

Z - zodiac sign:  Taurus

Tagging @kazuyas-ass & @ruikitoji Idontknowmanypeopleontumblr???LMAO