Let Me Be Very Clear That If You Voted For Donald Trump Or Support Him In Any Capacity You Are Not Welcome

let me be very clear that if you voted for donald trump or support him in any capacity you are not welcome here. my blog is not the place for you and i do not want you interacting with me. 

[10:23 AM]

"hwa," you whine, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, "come on. we've slept in way too long."

he simply grumbles and pulls you back into a hug, and you sigh in defeat. you've been wiggling for a full minute, it's futile.

"nuh, you're so warm. it's too early," he complains against your shoulder, words muffled from your skin and the slurring that comes naturally when a sleepy boy is trying to convince you not to move.

he's cute as hell, but as much as you both wish it was, that's not a valid excuse for being late to your brunch date with the rest of the boys.

"babe, I'm serious. we're gonna be late," you tell him, but you probably should've considered the lack of shits he gives when he's tired, because he doesn't budge at all.

"two more minutes, love. then you can drag me out of bed, hm?" he bargains.

laughing, you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch.

though you'd consider yourself more of a night owl than a morning person, there's always something special about spending moments like these together. light streams in through your blinds - even though they're still closed, the useless things - and brightens the room with a warm yellow glow, and it looks and feels heavenly.

or it did, at least, but the moment is over when you hear someone snoring in your ear.

"alright, that's it. you gave me permission," you say as you finally break free of seonghwa's hold, standing up and reaching for his arm, "so up you get."

with one big tug, you manage to drag him a few centimetres. you suppose it counts as progress, but you ultimately decide to try his legs instead. pulling him towards the end of the bed, you manage to wake him (and startle him, but you don't feel very sorry for it) with your efforts.

"hey, hey," he cries, "I didn't sign up for this!"

your dragging does not cease.

"yes, you literally did! come on, hwa," you laugh as he finally accepts his fate and rolls his way towards you.

sitting up, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into your tummy. your hands go back to playing with his hair, and you can hear him sigh happily. he leans back and looks up at you with a sweet smile.

"alright, I'm up," he says.

you lean down and place a small kiss on the tip of his nose, causing him to giggle as a soft blush warms his cheeks.

"it's about time, sleepyhead."

thanksgiving is a holiday based on a falsified narrative full of white guilt and the erasure of history so what are some good native organizations to donate to this coming thursday

[11:36 PM]

"minks, I'm ready! you can start it," you call out to your boyfriend as you skip down the hallway.

you hear a distant grumble of acknowledgement and when you enter the living room, you see mingi buried beneath the pile of pillows you'd collected in advance. he still has yet to press play on the movie despite your request, so you decide to pester him.

standing next to the couch where he's laying, you repeatedly poke his shoulder to get his attention. his head reappears from beneath the cushions and as his eyes focus on your form, they widen significantly.

"bun, are you, like, uh," he stutters, clearing his throat, "is that my shirt?"

you nod and spin around once, showing off the dark blue oversized shirt you stole from mingi's drawer minutes prior. it seems as though you've temporarily stunned him, so you do a little dance and jump around.

"it looks nice, right? I might have to steal the rest of your clothes, minkie," you joke as you bounce.

his eyes are still wide as ever and his mouth is a little 'o', but he sits up and makes grabby hands towards you. you shuffle forwards and he grabs your sleeves where they hang past the tips of your fingers, flapping them around.

"baby, you're so cute," he coos, pouting, "it's so big on you! you're so tiny, it's so oversized and I am going to cry about it."

you giggle and lightly smack his face with a sleeve. he opens his mouth in a silent scream of 'I can't handle this, oh my GOD', and stands up to squish your face with both hands.

"look at you! lord, forgive me for simping but I am so in love with you, y/n," he rants, planting small kisses all over your face while you simply stand there happily.

once he's satisfied with the number of kisses he's given you, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls back onto the pillow pile, bringing you down with him. you kiss his cheek, smiling.

“I’ll take that as permission to steal a few more shirts, yes?” you ask, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“please,” he responds, eyes closed and a big grin on his face, “steal as many as you’d like.”

is it even a school night if the existential depression session doesn't hit

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