#← this is not a guide this is literally the tag I use to organize things

[qcomicsy]

I think a thing that people get wrong about Jason's anger is that it's not explosive.

It's cold. Jason isn't the type of person who storms off at every little thing or goes throwing tantrums and setting things on fire blindfully.

He's the type of person who's very practical. He keeps to himself, always. You rarely see issues where Jason's anger is reactive at the moment where the trigger happens to him. If you see his character up close, most of the time when he's triggered his reaction is calm. Even cold.

He gets triggered -> He keeps to himself → He makes a plan → And then he reacts.

Jason's anger being something explosive and out of character and out of place is actually how other people (characters) see it, because they have no idea on how it's playing out on Jason's head.

And that's a thing you can see operating since he was a child.

Where the only exceptions about this effect is either when someone he believes needs his help is involved.

See Nightwing Annual (2021)

But In Batman #411 when Jason learns the fact that Two-Face was responsible for his father's death and Bruce was keeping that from him as a secret his first reaction isn't to blow up on him.

Was to seethe.

Bruce goes up home after dealing with a Two-Face case (in my field we call that poetic irony) and asks Alfred where Jason is, Alfred's answer is that he's been sleeping all day (which is a conclusion that Alfred drew probably after going to check on Jason and seeing him in fact on his bed all day).

But when you see the next panel, even though he is on the bed, He's fully awake and both his expression and his body language shows that he's in fact angry.

This is the first time he appears again in the comics after learning that Two Face killed his dad.

Jason doesn't go towards Bruce immediately to demand an explanation or ask why he did this, or even to throw the truth on his face.

(Which could be debatable that that's something the Dick would usually do, but I'm not that literate on Dick's comics)

His reaction wasn't immediate.

His reaction was to go to his bed and stay quiet. Jason stayed calm and collected the whole trip until meeting Two Face again.

But the moment Jason as Robin has the opportunity to get his hands on Two-Face he does this

From Bruce, and maybe Alfred's perspective it could be interpreted as out of place or him storming off.

But it isn't. Jason was able to keep his cool (even though he shut off), until he was face a face to Two Face.

Does that mean he planned that to happen?

That's debatable, in any moment of this issue it is shown that Jason was actually planning to get to Two Face and do this. I my personal opinion, other and much more plausible explanation is: That he was in fact trying to keep to himself but couldn't hold back the moment that he saw his dad's murder.

You can see the same thing happening as Jason learns that Batman got another Robin in Red Hood: Lost Days.

Talia asks "You all right?" and Jason's first answer is "Sure Why Wouldn't I Be Alright?"

When he's alone he finally has the moment to break down.

(Actually both Red Hood: The lost days and Batman: Under the Red Hood are great case studies on how that usually play out on Jason's head.)

Jason is way more in control of his emotions than people ever give him credit for. The thing is that Jason holds it back until he either blows off or is capable to throw it back in someone's face.

[a11eya]

TITLE: lights will guide you home

CHAPTER: 8

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.

At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.

You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.

(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

Ikeda tells you that two of the pictures—only two!—you took of Bakugou are viable and that one of the videos is passable. It’s a little harsh, in your opinion, especially considering who your subject was. 

She also asks you for the name of the organization you used to foster the kittens. You tell her the organization name, and, a little sheepishly, that the adoption and foster program’s called Save the Meow Meows. It makes her laugh. 

“Next time, try to get Dynamight to smile, okay?” she says after her laughter dissolves into a grin, audible even over the phone. “He looks like he’s being held hostage in 90% of these.”

“I know. I tried, but you know how he is.” It takes a half-second for the entirety of her words to process. You blink. “Wait, next time?”

“Well, yeah!” she says, sounding amused. “This first post we just put up on Dynamight’s socials is already doing well, and your pictures with him at the pet store are in the rearview mirror. Who knew that people would like them so much? No accounting for taste, I suppose.” 

Well. You knew, the moment you saw Bakugou pick up Mikan. There’s one photo in particular that didn't make it to Dynamight’s social media because Mikan’s mid-motion in it, but something about Bakugou’s expression… You’ll never tell him, but the two of them together make such a pretty picture that you favorited it on your phone. 

You try to pay attention as Ikeda continues, “A couple more posts should suffice, so we need more photos with him in different clothes, maybe in a different spot in your apartment, individual shots with each kitten… and definitely better expressions. Only makes sense, right?”

“Right…”

“You can go ahead and let him know about the additional shoots; you did a great job of coordinating things between you. And good job wrangling him so far! Keep up the good work! ”

“Thanks,” you say, after a pause, to the dial tone. You wonder if Bakugou knows how much Ikeda dislikes him. 

Grimacing, you type out a message and send Bakugou the bad news. 

You: Hey. Just finished talking to Ikeda. She says we need to take more pictures 🙏

Not a minute passes before your phone begins vibrating in your hand. You eye it like it’s a snake and answer hesitantly. 

“…Hello?”

“What’dya mean, more pictures?” Bakugou snaps. 

“Literally, there are no other meanings for that statement.”

“Call her back and tell her to fuck off.”

“Bakugou,” you sigh in exasperation. “I’m not gonna tell her to fuck off. Also, she’s your PR person. If you have complaints, shouldn’t you tell her directly?”

“The fifty pictures you took weren’t enough?” he demands.

“She says we need to take pictures of you wearing different clothes, in different spots in my apartment, so it’s clear they happened on different days. She also says you need solos with each of the kittens. And that you need to smile.” 

Quietly, you mutter away from the receiver, “Like I told you to.”

Bakugou must have the ears of a bat because his tone lowers, dangerous. “What’d you say, brat? Come and say that to my face.”

“Make me,” you say immediately, then close your eyes, feeling embarrassed. He really does bring out an unfortunately childish side of you. 

The line goes silent.

You wait, wondering if you pissed him off. 

“Text me when you’re free this week,” he says abruptly. “I’ll come by for the damn pictures.”

He hangs up before you can reply. 

Bakugou: I’m outside. 

Standing from your couch, you walk over to your front door and pull it open.

“Hey,” you tell him, but you stop in confusion when you notice he has a duffle bag in one hand and a reusable bag, the kind you’d put groceries in, in the other. His expression is pinched when your eyes meet.

“Here,” Bakugou says, and shoves the reusable bag at you. You automatically grab at the handles and make a sound when he lets go; it’s heavy. 

“Gotta reschedule the dumb photos. I was called in for work,” he says. 

Bakugou steps back, clearly moving to leave, and you grab his wrist.  

“Hold on,” you say. You let your hand fall from him and raise the reusable bag. “What is this?”

“Nutrients instead of the garbage you usually have. Be grateful,” he tells you, baring his teeth in a mean smile. You make a face at him, instinctively, and the mean fades from his smile, shifting to an amused twist of his lips. He looks at you as if he’s going to say something more. He doesn’t. 

Bakugou turns and makes his way down the hallway. 

You stare at his back, then duck your head to look at the contents of the bag. 

There are several bentos in there, stacked neatly, easily a week’s worth of lunches. The ones at the top have sticky notes on them, labeled with a number and what looks like a list of ingredients. 

When it finally clicks what you’re holding, your eyes widen. 

You shove your feet into some slides, grabbing another shoe to hold your door open, and chase Bakugou down the hallway, lugging the bag with you.

“Bakugou, wait,” you call, catching up to him where he’s waiting at the elevator, duffle bag on the ground. 

He turns to look at you, eyes narrowed. You come to an abrupt halt in front of him and try to give him the bag back. 

Bakugou crosses his arms, a refusal. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t accept this,” you say. “It’s so much food! And was probably a lot of work to make!”

“S’why you should shut up and keep it,” he growls. “Go back.”

You scrabble about for a more convincing argument. “You should keep it. You’re going to work, right? You need lunch!”

“Already got lunch. This shit’s just because I made extra meal prepping this week,” Bakugou says.

Your mouth opens, and you furrow your brow, looking down at the bag. Uncertain, now.

“If you don’t want it, toss it,” he tells you, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t do that,” you gasp, just as the elevator arrives and opens. 

One of your neighbors, coming back from walking her dog, blinks at the both of you from inside the elevator. 

You quickly step closer to where Bakugou’s standing so she can pass. Bakugou picks up his duffle bag so it isn’t in the way, and you exchange greeting smiles with your neighbor as she slips by. Her big dog stops to sniff at the bag you’re holding, no doubt detecting the food, but your neighbor tugs at the leash and away.

Feeling self-conscious now that you have an audience, even if she is getting further down the hall, you turn back to Bakugou. He’s looking at you already, an exasperated expression on his face.

“Stop being stubborn,” he says, mouth a downward slash. “Gotta go. Eat that shit or don’t. I don’t care.”

He steps into the elevator and jabs the button for the ground floor. He’s gone before you can come up with a response.

You stack the bentos in your fridge, taking care not to jostle them more than you had during your jog down the hallway. As you place the last one inside, you trace the edge of its lid thoughtfully.  

You weren’t sure, at first, why these bentos bothered you, why your first reaction was to try to give them back. But the longer you sit on it, the more clarity you have. 

You feel a little guilty, that Bakugou keeps doing things for you, giving you things. The feeling has been building, especially over the past couple weeks since you’ve been messaging him, talking to him. You talk to him nearly every day. You’ve learned he prefers phone calls to texts—not surprising, considering how brief his messages usually are. He’s become part of your routine, and you find yourself feeling like something’s missing when a day passes without a snarky message from him or a phone call where you update him on the kittens, despite his claims of disinterest. 

You don’t want him to think that you only want him around because he gives you things and does stuff for you. You hope nothing about you gives that impression. 

You’re not sure how to tell him this. It makes your stomach swoop, just thinking about bringing it up. Because you know you’ll have to tell him what you just realized: that you like him for who he is. That you like him in your life. That he doesn’t have to earn your time or attention or—or forgiveness with things or by doing things. 

At work the next day, you sit and eat in the break room for the first time in several weeks, nearly crying over your first bite of a bento. It’s so good.

You figured out the numbers on the sticky notes indicate the order in which you should eat the bentos. Even though the ingredients are listed on the notes, you’d been tempted to crack open each bento to see what you’ll be eating later in the week. But so far, you’ve been able to control yourself. It’s kind of nice. Like a little surprise to look forward to each day. 

You finger today’s sticky note, taking in the words crossing it. For some reason, you’d assumed Bakugou would have messy, wild handwriting. But the kanji are precise, neat. You wonder what he’s doing right now.

The break room door opens, and you look up to see a colleague from a different department.

“Hey!” he greets you, crossing the room to fill his water bottle at the fill station. He turns to face you as he waits, and you panic internally, struggling to remember his name. Sato? Suzuki? 

“Surprised to see you in here,” he remarks. “Usually you eat in your office.”

“Yeah!” you say. You had no idea he took so much notice of where you ate. When were you first introduced? A couple months back? You feel worse about not remembering his name. 

You give him a smile, hoping the guilt isn’t on your face. “Just felt like a change of pace today.”

“That bento looks good! Do you like to cook?” he asks.

“Oh! No, a friend made it for me.” Your smile shifts into something more genuine. “He said I’ve been eating garbage, so. His attempt at trying to make sure I don’t die prematurely, I guess.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Sato or Suzuki or something else entirely says, tone shifting, and he picks up his now-full water bottle and twists the cap back on. 

“Well, enjoy your lunch!” he says, waving goodbye as he leaves the break room. 

You stare at the closing door for a brief moment before shaking your head. You need to find out that guy’s name before you see him again. He totally clocked you for not recognizing him, because what was that weird look on his face as he left? You decide to ask your team—discreetly!—what his name is after your lunch break.

When you’re finished eating, you snap a picture of the empty bento and send it to Bakugou.

You: Thank you for the food! 🙏

You: You know, if you ever change your mind about the hero thing, I think you’d get a job as a chef, easy

After a moment, you decide to send another message. You want to bring up the thoughts you’d had the other day, about how you don’t want him to feel compelled to keep doing things for you, but you feel like it’s a conversation better had in-person. Or on the phone, at least. 

It takes you several minutes of deleting and drafting before you settle on something inadequate. 

You: Sorry I was so weird about it yesterday 

Standing abruptly, too chicken to wait to see if he replies, you clean up your area and get back to work. 

It’s at the end of the work day, on the train, when you check your messages again. A text from Bakugou is waiting for you in your inbox, and you’re definitely not nervous when you tap on it to read it.

Bakugou: Better be sorry. Next time, don’t be a brat about it

You exhale, huffing a laugh, relieved. You type out a response.

You: Yes, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight sir 

He doesn’t reply. One thing about Bakugou is that he leaves his read receipts on—intentionally, you suspect, because it’s just like him to make sure you know he’s ignoring you, even through texts. It makes you grin.

The week passes, and you find yourself staring at a pile of empty bento boxes, hands on your hips.

You: Hey, when can I return the bento boxes? Washed them and everything!!

Bakugou: I’d fuckin’ hope so 

You: 😒

You: Should I drop them off at your agency? 

Bakugou: No, bring ‘em to my place

He sends you an address.

A part of you is a little relieved he’d suggested you not bring them to his agency. Thinking about it, going there to drop off a bag of empty bento boxes feels a little too… revealing. That people might see that you have the kind of relationship where he makes you lunch. You don’t want to cause trouble, especially since the pet store fiasco is just starting to fade from people’s memories. 

You: 👍

“Hi.” You feel a little out of place, standing in the hallway outside Bakugou’s apartment. You hold up the bag of bento boxes. “I brought the goods.”

Mentally, you’re kicking yourself. You’re always saying such dumb shit in front of him. 

Bakugou’s gives you a deadpan look, an I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that look. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” he says, and moves back to give you some room.

You step past the threshold, and he closes the door behind you. He grabs the bag from you and heads deeper into his apartment. Hurriedly, you toe off your shoes and follow him.

He’s gone into his kitchen, you realize, and he has a cabinet open, where he’s placing the bento boxes inside, one by one. He meets your gaze as he’s putting one away, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he opens one of them and makes a show of inspecting it for cleanliness.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

Bakugou barks out a laugh and you smile, despite yourself.

As he continues to put away the boxes, you take a moment to glance around his kitchen while he’s busy.

It’s big. It has some fancy-looking appliances you wouldn’t typically find in a home kitchen. The stove looks top-of-the-line, and you see an impressive-looking knife set displayed on the counter. There’s even a stand mixer in one corner. You wonder if Bakugou bakes. 

“Y’want water, tea?” he asks, closing the cabinet and turning to you.

“Oh, water’s fine, thanks,” you say. You’re chagrined; even Bakugou’s a better host than you are.

You lean your side against one of the counters, watching as he grabs a pair of glasses and fills them up. 

He’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, in a faded shirt and worn pants that he easily could’ve slept in. His hair is nearly flat, falling in relaxed strands, softening him. All his edges are blunted, here, in his apartment.

You murmur a thank you as he gives you your water, and you subtly study his face as he drains his glass. He leans a hip against the counter. 

He looks a little tired, slight bags under his eyes. The way he’s holding himself is relaxed, but his shoulders slant, droop in a way you haven’t seen before. When he leans over to place his cup in the sink, his shirt lifts a little, exposing a glimpse of skin and the lip of his boxers rising above the waistband of his pants. His lights are gentle swirls around him, bathing him in a soft glow. 

He’s handsome, it dawns on you. The thought flusters you, and heat begins to rise to your cheeks. 

What the hell? You’ve seen him in casual clothes; you’ve seen him in his hero suit. Objectively, people are more attractive when put together, right? Presentable. There’s nothing about him, now, that you should find attractive. He’s just some guy, standing in his kitchen.

But Bakugou in his off mode, at home, does something to you. It’s like wires rearrange in your head, and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Hey,” you say—anything to leave this train of thought behind, because nope. “Thanks again for the food. This week was the best I’ve eaten, like ever.”

“You’re damn right it was,” he says, and you roll your eyes, smiling. 

“Alright, alright, Mr. Ego. I did want to talk about something else, too, while I’m here. If you have a minute.” By the time you’re finished talking, a serious note you’re unable to help has crept into your voice. 

An expression you’re unable to decipher flickers across his face. Bakugou crosses his arms. “Spit it out.”

You put your glass down on the counter, fiddling with it. Stalling, you realize. 

“I want you to know… you don’t have to do all this for me, okay?” you say, glancing up at him. 

His eyes narrow. 

You continue, hurriedly, to clarify. “I mean, like buying me the couch protectors, or making me lunches. I appreciate it all, I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bakugou says, a little growl on the end of his sentence. 

“I just don’t want you thinking you need to do these things for me,” you say, voice faltering, quieting. “Even if you don’t cook me another meal, or buy me a single thing, ever, that’s fine with me.” 

Please understand, you will to him, watching him. Your thoughts feel clumsy, your words clumsier, like it’s a monumental effort just to string two sentences together. You can’t find the words to tell him what you mean: that you think he’s funny when he quips at you and that you know he’s observant, thoughtful. That you like talking to him, spending time with him. It’s enough.

Maybe you have found the words, but you can’t say them aloud just yet. Not yet.

“I know I don’t need to do shit. I only do shit I wanna do,” Bakugou says gruffly.

You open your mouth to argue, to try again to make sure he understands you, but he interrupts, puts a hand on your head. He’s a little rough, but his hand is warm. Reassuring. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You could fall into them, like this. 

“You think too much,” he tells you, but peering into his face—you think he’s heard you, loud and clear. 

You do think too much, you acknowledge on the train ride home. 

You’d left his apartment soon after your conversation; he’d needed to get ready for work. But your thoughts still buzz with him. 

You think about how the shape of your life has changed with him in it, within just a couple weeks. You think about the fact that he’s your soulmate but you’re not his, how this is something that can’t be changed, no matter how well you get to know Bakugou and how well he gets to know you. It’s been a long time since this—that you can see his lights but he can’t see yours—bothered you. You thought you’d accepted it, moved on from it. 

It really, really bothers you.

[carpkoinobori]

[†] thursday girl — giselle x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): abbey - mitski | wife - mitski | goodbye, my danish sweetheart - mitski | circle - mitski | shame - mitski | once more to see you - mitski | thursday girl - mitski | pink in the night - mitski |

summary: you debut in SM’s newest girl group. The industry isn’t what you thought it’d be. It’ll be fine, right? or , more accurately: a girl’s guide to breaking all ten commandments.

pairing: giselle x aespa member!reader

to be honest the dynamic is more like the apple x the snake x eve

tags: angst, happy and open ending, literally just angst though, reader is raised catholic

wc: 7.3k

cw: dieting, eating disorders, religious trauma, catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized homophobia, comphet, mild implied sexual content, creepy variety show hosts and fans mentioned, the mortifying ordeal of being a girl

ex: not beta read, reader is third oldest/youngest - middle of five. reader’s stage name is Eve.

a/n: leaving this warning here. I was raised catholic. if you find negative mentions of organized religion upsetting, this one isn’t for you. NOT BETA READ ONCE AGAIN

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God.  You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God.  You shall not do any work.  For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. “I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15   You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓

I LOVE TOXIC YURI AND DOOMED YURI FOREVERR pleek send asks+reqs btw I need ideas

[kabr0ztrousers]

Let me start off by saying that everything I've read from you so far has been amazing! Ok so I used to be terrified of clowns but now I adore them. Fem reader who is scared of clowns and super timid gets dragged to a fair by a friend. One of the clowns notices and tries to cheer her up maybe tripping over himself and just being goofy. He takes her to a tent and fucks her with his other clown friends showing her there's no reasons to fear clowns. Super fluffy please!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 37: Coulrophilia

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Clowns; intox; group sex; enthusiastic consent;

A/N: Clowns aren't a thing I naturally find sexy, so we'll see how this one goes. Thanks for the request either way!

There's 4 or 5 stories to get through before the ask box empties out, so please if you have a request or an idea, send an ask or a DM and it'll get added to the pile!

######################################

If there's one thing that's always made your skin crawl, it's clowns. Not that there weren't things that didn't scare you otherwise, you've never quite had a head for heights and spiders can just generally do one, but clowns always made you uneasy. That said, here you were at the circus. Primary habitat of your natural enemy. Your friends had convinced you to tag along, placating you that it'd be fun and you wouldn't even see a clown unless you went into the big top.

They lied, of course. The place was crawling with clowns, seemingly everywhere you looked there were at least two or three. That along with your friends having disappeared almost as soon as you passed the ticket booth, you weren't having the best of times.

Something honked behind you. You tried to ignore it, but it honked again. One of those pale-faced freaks trying to get your attention. You turned to tell them to kindly sod off or point you to the exit.

The clown wasn't there, then another honk came from behind you. You turned again, still no clown. Another honk-honk. You quarter-turned, then shot back in time to see a young man with a greasepaint grin pratfall on front of you. You stifled a chuckle as the man feigned trying to get up a couple of times, each time comically failing in more audacious ways until with an impressive backflip, he landed on his feet, swaying dramatically.

"Well hel-lo there ma'am" His over-pronounced southern drawl was a bit much, but fit the vibe "Are ya havin' a good time?"

You smiled at him, "I'm not much for circuses, and I've lost my friends"

The clown mock-cried when you told him your predicament, pulling hanky after hanky out of his sleeves and dabbing at his eyes "Well, can't have that, can we? Would a balloon pal make it better?" Before you could respond he was already halfway through making a poodle from a long balloon, what could you do but accept it?

"What ya' gonna name him?"

"Squeak!" The name popped into your head. You noticed you're smiling now, the clown noticed it too

"That's a good name" he gave an exaggerated nod "Tell you what, I'll put out some feelers to find your pals, 'til then, would ya like to meet mine?"

You smiled and nodded. The clown produced a hobby horse from the baggy silks of his outfit and 'mounted' it "Well, just follow me, the Clown Ranger!" He galloped off, but not so fast you couldn't stay on his tails as he guided you through the throngs of people, pausing every so often to pull an attendant's ear or dazzle someone with a quick card trick.

Deeper and deeper into the circus you went, the music of the calliope organ getting louder as you drew towards the tents in the middle. The clown lifted a tent flap and motioned inside"After you, Mon Ami"

You stepped in, and blanched. If you thought outside was bad, this was clown central. Literally. A man on stilts was holding a clipboard, calling out commands to the garishly painted mob below, who was needed where, what tent needed a moment to set something up, whose act had gone awry and clowns had to pick up the slack. Your clown cowboy was behind you, fastening the flap back up and motioned to the stilted one.

The chief clown bent down to listen, perfectly balanced even though the stilts were as long as you were tall. He was dressed in black and white with a perfectly even white face besides a pair of exaggerated red lips and gleaming red nose. The lead clown nodded and leant down to you, he spoke with a faint French accent "So, you have lost your fellows, yes? Please tell me what they look like, we will let them know where you are"

You gave a description to the clown, who reared up and called it to the arrayed fools, buffoons and jesters before coming back to you "You are welcome to wait in here, Ranger Rick will keep you company. Enjoy!"

Your newfound clown friend took your hand and swept you to a quiet part of the tent "This is the green room," the accent was gone now, "a bit quieter for you. Wanna see some magic?"

You nodded and the clown grabbed a deck of cards, dazzling you with his sleight of hand, occasionally seeming to screw up a trick to make you laugh before pulling your card or a coin from somewhere seemingly impossible

A couple more clowns stepped into the room and joined in the fun, before long you were in tears of laughter as they riffed off one another.

The night dragged on, and your friends weren't found, the clowns reckoned they'd probably left the circus already. You couldn't help but feel bummed out at that, seeing as they dragged you there to begin with. It was only you, your cowboy and two others in the room, the cacophony from outside dying down.

You and the clowns were sat on some benches, passing around a hip flask, enjoying your own private after-party. The men in front of you were still cracking jokes, though the more they drank the bawdier they got. After recovering from a particularly vile gag about a priest, a nun, and a donkey, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Whatever was in the flask was strong. You'd always had a weakness for a man who could make you laugh, and you were always a bit too easy when you'd had a few drinks.

You budged up to the Clown Ranger, putting your arm behind him and giving an experimental pat on his ass. It was a lot firmer than those oversized trousers gave him credit for. You saw him blush a little despite his makeup as he looked bashfully away from you.

The other clowns noticed "Oi, oi! The cowboy's pulled!" The one on your left called out, thumbs in his suspenders, bowler hat perched on his head. The other just gave a deep belly laugh "He gets all the ladies, never any for us Bozos!"

You cocked an eyebrow at the one in the hat, then the other "You know, I've never had a four-way before..." You spoke as sweetly as you could, the liquor wasn't making it easy to mask your desire for the men around you.

The clowns looked at one another, speechless for the first time in the night. You blushed hard and hunched your shoulders, certain you'd killed the mood. You stood up to leave before you made a bigger fool of yourself.

You stopped when you saw the looks in their eyes. They were all trying to figure out if you were serious, or if you were just joking. You paused to make sure, and certain enough you could feel the desire in the looks they gave you.

Sod it.

You kissed the cowboy. Dragging him to his feet by his comedic lapels. He kissed back, one hand on your back, unfastening your bra through your shirt, the other gripping your ass.

The other two were standing too now, stroking your body as they gently undressed you. Button by button they unfastened your blouse, letting it fall to the sawdust floor before sliding off your bra, leaving you topless as you enjoyed the attention of the three men worshipping your body. You unbuttoned the cowboy's waistband and his pants fell, revealing white boxers patterned with love hearts, which you opened to pull out his cock. It was already rock hard in your hand, thick and uncircumcised. You started with the balls, licking and sucking them before licking all the way to the tip of his cock, savoring the scent of it as you went. The other two followed suit and exposed themselves to you. A cock in each hand and one in your mouth, you sucked and jerked them. All three men were panting over you as you went, feeling your wetness dripping from you and soaking into your underwear. You're glad you wore a skirt, your jeans would be ruined by now.

You pulled off your soaked panties and stood back up, still facing your cowboy as you pushed him back down onto the bench behind him before mounting him. His cock was throbbing against you as you rubbed it against your clit, coating it with your wetness before lining it up and sitting down on it.

He whimpered as it went in, the look of bliss on his face clashing with the painted rictus grin. The one in the hat held his cock beside you. You turned your head to suck it as you rode your cowboy, presenting your asshole to the final clown behind you.

You're not sure where he got a bottle of lube from, but you're glad he had it. The clown in your rear was the biggest of the three, gently pushing it in, stretching you out as you felt the two cocks frotting against one another inside you.

Hands were on every inch of you, your tits, your waist, the sides of your head, your own were busy on your clit and teasing the balls of the one in your mouth.

Your orgasm came easily, quickly followed by another and another, groans muffled by the cock you were sucking on as you buried the cock below you in your pussy. The cowboy must've felt it, you could feel him start to pulse and paint your cunt with his cum. You took the cock out of your mouth to pull his head to yours and kiss him as he dumped his load, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Next was the one in your ass, pushing himself deep into you before releasing into your guts, gripping your tits and squeezing as the last few humps exhausted him.

Finally the one in the hat brought himself off over your face. You opened your mouth to catch as much as you could, but you couldn't help loving the feeling of his cum spattering across your face in hot ropes.

You stayed for a moment, panting and sweating. Feeling the men going soft in you as their juices gently leaked out of you.

Then the one in the hat gave you a handkerchief. Then another. Then another.

"Sorry, they're all tied together"

##############################

Pleasant clown gangbang. More plot that I expected, less than I could've done.

Once again, if you have a request, an idea, a fetish, whatever, drop an ask. As long as it's within the very minimal boundaries in my pinned, it'll probably get written, completely free of charge! It's literally a free commission!

One last note: I did a surprising amount of research on clown makeup for this, it's a fascinating world as it turns out, but cut most of it to avoid writing a treatise on clowning. Ah, well, maybe one day

[patriottruth]

12/29/2024 Update: March on Washington, D.C. January 3-5, 2025!!!

Hello, everyone, and thank you so much to everyone who's involved in this fight to protect and save all democracies and free people's in the world from a second donald j. trump presidency where he's clearly aligned with the dictators of the world to give all of Europe to putin and actually attempt to take Mexico, Canada, Panama, and Greenland by force.

But all hope isn't lost. The Marc Elias situation has gone to some really weird places, so he may decide he's not going to help at all. The Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) situation is still strong. I've teamed up with Jessica Denson (a woman who defeated donald trump in court on behalf of herself and a bunch of other abused donald trump staff/employees) and she's teamed up with Laurence Tribe, Glenn Kirschner, CREW and Noah Bookbinder, John Bonifaz, and every constitutional scholar and law expert she can find via her "Lights On!" YouTube and Bluesky presence.

Jessica Denson put out a call for help to organize class action civil litigation and organized marches last weekend. NOWMARCH.ORG is the result of that call for help. Everything is coming together really fast. If you can make it to Washington, D.C. during January 3-5, 2025, this is your chance to make your voice heard in person to encourage Congress to enforce Section 3 of the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution on donald trump and j.d. vance to keep them out of office. If you can't make it in person, there will be online opportunities to make your voice heard.

I've been working Democratic House Leader Hakeem Jeffries Bluesky feed to inform everyone there about Section 3/14A, the truth about the SCOTUS Anderson ruling, and the January 3-5, 2025 march and call to action for days as well as working the overall Bluesky membership to get the word out to as many people as possible since I took a hiatus from Tumblr on November 27th.

As to the question on why this hasn't gotten traction on more social media accounts here on Tumblr and on Instagram, Facebook, and the like; this movement has been criticized as being a protest against the peaceful transfer of power. It's not a protest against a peaceful transfer of power; it's a protest to demand that both houses of Congress do as SCOTUS informed donald trump, in their unanimous Anderson ruling on 3/4/2024, that he must have done in order to be legally elected as President of the United States.

Due to everything I'm trying to accomplish over on Bluesky, I'm time-limited here at the moment, but I wanted to give everyone an update now that there's something big to announce.

You can find me on Bluesky as Truth2TheRescue. You'll recognize the header and avatar as me. There's a lot of information over there that I don't have the time to copy and paste over here at the moment. Every moment that ticks by is getting us all closer to a donald trump disaster, so I'm focusing all my time where I can try and do as much good as possible. Thanks again to everyone here on Tumblr for all you've done and all you're doing for literally the sake of all democracies and free peoples of the world. I hope to see you all over on Bluesky if you're so inclined.

I'm tagging some fans of entertainers who supported Harris/Walz so they don't miss this last chance opportunity to have their voices heard.

May love never fail us. May love envelop, protect and guide us. May love win this fight against the hatred that threatens to divide and conquer all democracies and free peoples of the world.

[peachyafterhours]

Operation Chow Down

Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies)/Wade Wilson

Tags- alternate universe, genderbent (I hate those words cause to me they aren't like,, girls, they're just poolverine and also lesbians... But I digress), ns/fw, eating out, they both use she/her

Summary- literally just Wade riding Logan's face and Logan being in love with her lmao

Logan had been a soldier for almost her entire life. 200 years of taking orders and executing them with the best of her abilities. Training, day in and day out to be the best of the best. Completing missions and tasks with ease. And yet there was one task she had never been more dedicated to...

She focused on the task at hand. Licking slowly up and down Wilson's folds. Holding on to her textured, taught thighs as Wade rode her face within an inch of her life. Nothing on but a pair of mismatched hello kitty socks. Meanwhile Logan still had on her white tank top and ratty old blue jeans she got from Walmart 30 years ago.

They were in their own bed, in their own apartment. Thank. God. Logan couldn't imagine fucking on that creaky old pull out couch at Al's place anymore. She was grateful for the bed even as Wade ran her fucking mouth, as if Logan didn't have her tongue in her hole as deep as it could go and her clit grinding on Logan's arched nose.

"Fuck Logi bear, you were- fucking made for this weren't you... Ah shit-" Wade's hips stuttered as Logan moaned and licked up her folds. "My beautiful sweet pookie shnookie- Ah fucking fuck!" Never in Logan's life had she been this turned on by praise or pet names or any of that bullshit. Not just the dirty talk but someone telling her that she belonged. That she mattered. That she was loved... And God did she love Wade; just as Wade loved her.

Of course she didn't say this. There would be time for that later. She just kept focusing on giving Wade the best damn orgasm of her life. Logan could tell she was getting close by the way she shook, her legs tiring from holding up her body weight while simultaneously being pleasured by Logan's mouth.

She slowly brought her tongue out of her pussy, shivering as they both let out deep moans. Logan looked up to Wade's face, and God if she doesn't get more beautiful every time the older woman sees her. The cancer and experiment had taken away her hair and lashes, unlike Logan who was covered head to toe in thick brown hair from her cropped locs to her armpits and chest. The differences between them made her love the merc even more, especially in moments like these... Chest to heaving chest and skin to skin.

Wilson's big brown eyes were now boring into her whispering, "Logan... Please-" but before she could finish Logan was on her clit in a millisecond. Licking and sucking, going as fast as she could.

"Fucking hell- shit! Lo- AH FUCK-" she trailed off into a series of high-pitched moans as Logan licked her through her orgasm, groaning at the extra wetness she felt coating her lips and tongue. As Wade came down from the high (and her face) Logan helped her lay on mattress, guiding her head towards the pillow.

"You okay, princess?" Logan asked, worried that she had done too much.

"Okay?! I'm fucking fantastic. Don't worry your pretty little dommy mommy head about it."

Logan just rolled her eyes as she got into position to be cuddled. She always preferred being little spoon. Though she would never say that out loud, both she and Wade knew this to be true.

After a few minutes of shuffling, Wade slung and arm and leg around her from behind. As Logan started to drift to sleep with nothing but sounds of quiet mingled breaths, she heard her partner whisper.

"I love you..."

She smiled softly.

"I love you too."

[queer-ragnelle]

hello..👋👋

as someone who wants to get into arthurian legends.. where do you think I should start? is there a precise canon to follow? oh and.. this might be a stupid question but.. how would you describe guinevere's and lancelot's relationship...? i personally really like them because of what I've heard online, but i got shamed for liking it a while ago from people who really hated guinevere and said gawain or galehaut(not sure if i spelled it right) would be better for lancelot..

Hello anon!

I have a Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana pinned on my blog. There’s no precise canon to follow, but you’ll get the most bang for your buck reading the works of Chrétien de Troyes and the Vulgate Cycle. Much of what Chrétien developed ended up in the Vulgate, like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere from kidnapping, but there are more elements added from other stories, such as Lancelot’s upbringing in the lake which originated from Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikoven. On the other hand, Yvain’s journey as Knight with the Lion doesn’t make it into the Vulgate, so that’s worth reading on its own.

Regarding the part about people shaming you: block them if you haven’t already and anyone else who does so in future. I’m terribly sorry those people were unwelcoming as you begin to read and learn about Arthurian Legend. Let that not reflect on the community as a whole—there’s many lovely people here that’ll be happy to help you along. I hope you’re able to cultivate a positive online experience to the best of your ability and start enjoying the legends with us! :^D

But back to the fun stuff—I also really like Guinevere/Lancelot! My favorite dynamic is when Arthur is included too, but Guin is my number one pick for Lancey. ;^) It’s hard to describe them in so few words but I think it’s important to establish that they’re friends. This is an oft overlooked aspect that really deserves attention. They care for each other deeply. She helps him out of his madness and he helps her out of danger. This is something Arthur couldn’t do for either of them, much as he wanted to. That’s what makes the pair special, to me.

As for shipping wars about medieval characters….kinda ridiculous! And shaming other people over it is just abhorrent. I’m sorry you had to deal with that! Personally I enjoy Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot and Galehaut/Lancelot. I think it’s obvious I favor Gawain with his wife Ragnelle lol but Gawain/Lancelot is fine too. Gawain can have a little Lancelot. As a treat. I even enjoy “crackship” type pairings, like Bedivere/Lancelot or Kay/Lancelot or maybe a little [unrequited] Agravaine/Lancelot, and if the author or filmmaker chooses to write her in a positive light, Elaine/Lancelot as well. But that’s just it—there’s certainly no such thing as a “better” person(s) to couple with Lancelot. It’s literally fake. It’s fiction. It’s for fun! Doesn’t sound like the people you’ve encountered were having very much fun and put that on you, which was wrong.

Here I’d like to mention I run a discord server called the Arthurian Theater Server. Every weekend I stream TV shows and movies, mostly Arthurian, sometimes random fantasy. But it’s more than visual media—my friends and I share resources, character playlists, art we made, stories we wrote, we’ll liveblog retellings or newly discovered medlit translations, and discuss anything else Arthurian! We have custom made emojis for all the knights and ladies, a variety of original art stickers of the characters provided by several members, and an array of sounds bites ripped from films and TV for the soundboard to be played while streaming. Tumblr can be a little hard to navigate with the unreliable tag system, so this server is dedicated to an organized and moderated exchange of ideas and content. You’re welcome to join us!

Let me know if you have any other questions, it’s never a bother. Take care!

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 26

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 26.

Stardust thought it was one of the sweetest things he’d ever said—that he was the bad choice. For all his efforts to hide it, Cosmic was a good person. Stardust knew it, because he was like no one they had ever known before.

Pressed up against him in his doorway, fingers on his skin and the taste of his mouth still pressed into their own, they suddenly thought they understood one of the old family stories about Galileo.

She had been Theodosia before she took the title. She had been one in a hundred cousins all brandishing that Solinoh name over three hundred years ago. They had been a family of criminals, loathed by the rest of the primers and Theodosia had been nothing but a thug. A thug that caught the eye and the heart of a primer. Erasmus Avernath had been her trophy, and then he had become her weakness—a target of his own people as well as hers, because he had been a good person.

Good people deserved better than Solinohs, but Theodosia hadn’t been able to let Erasmus go.

Starlight understood that now and it was terrifying.

They kissed him again, savoring the way he sighed and his hand went to their hip, his fingertips sneaking in under their top to find that stretch of skin along their waistband.

Their palm pressed to his heart, pushing just a little, guiding him another step back out of the doorway and into the room. “You’re a bad liar, Cosmic,” they said against his lips.

He huffed a thin laugh, both hands on them now, exploring their sides. “You’re cracked if you think that.”

Another kiss and another step inside.

“You taste like paint…”

Stardust stopped but before they could say anything he was smiling.

“I wasn’t complaining.” His room was lit by the glow of stars outside the windows.

They stole another kiss, biting softly at his lip before asking, “Am I ahead on the scoreboard now?”

“The what?”

“It’s got to be at least one point five to six…”

He held them back by their hips but kept his hands on them. “The score is not one point five to six now! You did not save me. I saved you. It’s my point. I pulled that merc off of you.”

“Oh, come on! I literally jumped in front of you. If I hadn’t run that merc down, you would have been shot.”

His eyes went wide. “Are you seriously reminding me about the human shield incident already?”

Stardust bit back a laugh, leaning forward to bump their hips to his. “Too soon?”

He exhaled what sounded like it might be a laugh if he let it. “Yes, it’s still too soon. It’s been less than an hour!”

They looked at their own hand on his chest, sliding it up to the base of his neck. The contact was so easy, like they’d been this close all along—like this wasn’t the first time. “I had to drag you back here. That should count as saving you too. That’s another point.”

“So what if you dragged me back to the ship? You think I haven’t had to wake up and crawl back? I told you, I’ve had worse.”

They didn’t like that thought. Had he really been that badly injured and alone? When they first met, he’d said something about being blown up and having to get himself back onto the ship. Had that been true?

“Fine,” he said, the word almost rushing from his lips. “It’s a scratch. No points for either of us.”

Stardust stared up at him, wondering if he’d really just folded because of the look on their face. They reached up and peeled some of the paint off his temple. “We should clean up.”

The ship hummed around them, his mouth slowly curving into a smile. “…Are you suggesting we clean up together?”

How did he always make their heart jump like that? “It would be safer. You might faint again…”

“I don’t think I’m in danger of passing out again. You patched the gunshot wound, remember?” he said, but hadn’t taken his hands off their sides.

Stardust bit down on a grin. “Do you really want to take the risk? You could land face down in your shower…”

“I mean… Yeah, I’d hate to drown in my shower. That’d be a stupid way to go.”

They dragged their fingers down his chest, reveling in the feel of his skin and the nearness of him. They’d had partners before, but nothing had ever made them feel like this, like they were touching a living star—the heat under their palm like waves of fire against the cosmos. “I could protect you,” they said. It was a joke, but as soon as they said it they realized it wasn’t—they realized they would do anything to protect him, least of which would be standing in his shower to make sure he didn’t faint again.

Cosmic grinned, his hands flexing against their sides, like he was just realizing he had them in his grip. “Stardust…Are you trying to seduce me?”

They flicked their gaze from his mouth to his eyes and grinned right back.

“You know that won’t change my mind, right? You’re still on your own as soon as I get my hands on my half of that treasure,” he said, but pulled the zipper of their jacket down.

Stardust curled the fingers of one hand into the waistband of his pants, close enough to hear his breath catch. They turned him and started backing him toward the bathroom. “It’s not treasure,” they said for the hundredth time.

“I’ll call it treasure if I want to,” he countered, voice low now.

“But it’s not.” They kissed his jaw, nudging him through the doorway into that dark adjoining room. They were only guessing it was a bathroom. For all they knew, it could be a closet. They could work with a closet…

He groaned. “It is too…”

“No—”

“Wait.” He stopped that backward movement and looked at them. “Do you think arguing is flirting?”

Stardust shrugged and gave him a wink.

His smile was huge and his eyes as dark as a starless sky in the deep shadows of the maybe-closet-maybe-bathroom. “You are terrible at seduction…”

“I’m doing better than you…”

He barked a laugh. “I could definitely do a better job!”

They pressed up against him, one hand curling around the back of his neck and his breath catching again. “I’m the one that got us this far… and I had you that first day when I took your gun…”

“No! That first time you stole my gun was a fluke. I wasn’t seduced, I was confused.”

They blew a raspberry and smacked the wall, bringing the lights up. “Oh good, it is a bathroom,” they said out loud. It was at least twice the size of their own, which still made it one of the smallest showers they’d ever seen in their life. They’d been on lifeboats with bigger bathrooms, but suddenly the lack of space seemed like a good thing.

“Absolutely not,” he said, leaning back against the counter and watching them shed their jacket. “Go use your own shower. I can’t trust your motives.”

“You’re still pretending I haven’t seduced you? You’re not the least bit tempted?” They raised an eyebrow and turned to face him when they peeled their shirt off.

Cosmic watched, unblinking and unblushing. “I didn’t say it wasn’t tempting… I said I can’t trust why you’re doing it. You might just want to steal my jacket again. Or my gun. Or my ship.”

“I can do all of that and still want to shower with you…” Stardust pointed out. “I’m good at multitasking.” They bent and unbuckled their boots, feeling his eyes on them the whole time.

“I guess that could be worth the risk…” he said, sounding like he was still thinking too much. “Okay, Stardust. I’ll call your bluff.” The bathroom door slid shut behind them and the water in the shower turned on. When they med his gaze, the trails of lights still swirled in his irises from those automated controls. He grinned and spread an arm toward the shower stall. “Come on in. I’ll get that paint out of your hair and you can make sure I don’t faint from blood loss in the shower.”

They looked at him for a second, wondering if he really thought this was a bluff. Did he think they’d blush and run again? Oh, they were so far past that. Stardust stepped out of their boots and right up into his space again, one hand sliding into the back of his hair and pulling him into another kiss—wanting to make him believe them, wanting to make him understand.

He exhaled, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Really?” they mocked.

Cosmic laughed. “Yep. The worst at flirting…”

They kissed him again, wrapping arms around the back of his shoulders to press as close as they could get.

He sighed, smiling against their lips and arms finally curling around them. “Okay. Not the worst.”

[vintagelacerosette]

Wednesday tag game

Hiii darling angelpies! I am here on timeish 😆

I was tagged by these dazzling sweethearts Nosho @creepkinginc Mel @gardenerian Evie @energievie Deanna @deedala Kat @ mybrainismelted Julia @blue-disco-lights Al @spookygingerr Jessica @guinguin1984

How did you get into the fandom?

Like a lot of us 😆 I saw a fan edit of Mickey & Ian on YouTube (I can't find it again even when I've searched my history 😭) I was kinda in between fandoms at the time with Malex from Roswell New Mexico but they were broken up at the time & buddie lol.

But then I was shot through the heart when I went through the gallavich tag & it felt like home 🥰

How long have you been here?

I was lurking at the end of 2021 & the first official time I contributed to this darling fandom in Feb 2022 with gallacrafts 💝

What's the first fandom channel you found? (youtube, reddit, tumblr, insta, twitter, FB, other?)

Here on tumblr babeeeyy

What's your favourite now?

Still tumblr but I wish I was better on discord 😅 I get overwhelmed & don't wanna talk over ppl 😔

Which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom?

Oh my goodness I had no idea but my longest mutual is the always spectacular Calli @callivich 🥰🩵💙 woooww!!

Which tumblerinos did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know?

Y'all have to understand you are all unbelievably swoon worthy & there's only so many ppl I can tag in one post (damn you tagging limit 😣)

Ok, so definitely have a big crush on Deena @suzy-queued & to see smitten feeling is mutual got me

GIF by theresaphoenixinmyboot

Alice @darthvaders-wife Jane @captainjowl Mitch @psychicskulldamage when we became mutuals I squealed bc how much talent??

Jenna @ianrightsonly & Kay @goodkwuestion their fics changed me

Also, Benja @svltburn | Nosho | Vey @look-i-love-u Macy @heymacy Julissa @heymrspatel Jo @jomilky Harvey @mikhailoisbaby Georgia @iansw0rld Molly @deathclassic Stas @messedwithmandy Howl @howlinchickhowl Michelle @michellemisfit | Deanna | LJ @ofalltheginjoints Sam @sam-loves-seb Face @ burninface | Calli | AJ @ clingymickey Mills @gallavichsbitch Leah @whatwouldmickeydo

Also Jay!! You've left but gave me butterflies 🦋

Pls I kind hate this question! I've come to the conclusion I have a crush on you all OK?? 😭

This is why I make y'all Valentine's

First gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)?

By the magnificent Kay The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher!!! OH MY GOSH JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC MAKES ME FEEL ELATED & FERAL!!! It's my favourite piece of written work & I need my non gallavich ppl to read it so I can scream into their faces how much I love it 🥰🩷🩷🩷

First fan art that blew your mind?

Seriously, Deena's gallacrafts & art always take my breath away!!! Like the artistry & creativity?? I wanna get to your level 🥰

It's three dimensional & has twinkling lights ✨️ I was astounded & my jaw literally dropped 😍

All of Alice's art especially my commissioned art 🩷

Also, Mitch's comic I stared at it forever like Ian's eyes reflecting Mick's booty 🍑👀

Fanfic trope that you were sure wasn't for you but now you low key (or high key) love?

I have read some pretty freaky & nasty fic bc of curiosity, so I nothing really gave me icks in tropes, but in writing style, I got turned around with Jen @wehangout with second person POV. You're so talented that I really enjoyed them when I would nope out before 😆

What surprised you most about this fandom?

Everything surprised me about this fandom bc it was my first one!! 😆 I didn't really know how to do tumblr & didn't really get how to interact. So I used tumblr like a sticker book, then came learning tags & so ppl reached out to me which helped me gain confidence haha

This is kinda a golden standard fandom. So welcoming, loving & encouraging!! If I ever dabble in another fandom, imma have a high standard bc I've been spoiled by y'all! ILY

Moment in the show (or YT vids if you're one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with gallavich?

It was the "I'm fucking gay" scene to the "Guess what we've been doing daddy" The way he humps the car with all that conviction & screaming "he fucking loves it".

Everything clicked & I was like "Damn I love this fictional man." He is my favourite character of all time & this ship is my OTP & GOAT.

Also I love this edit too. It gives me chills

Ian or Mickey?

Mickey, but holy shit I love them both

Which gallagher or milkovich are you?

I took a page from @/guinguin1984 & did some quizzes & I got Fiona Ian Fiona Debbie not of them feel right ahaha

I guess Fiona bc I had her twice 😅

Consider yourself tagged if I have a crush on you or mentioned you. Also tagging these sunshines & if you wanna do it too, have at it 💛🥰

@lingy910y @mickittotheman @doshiart @crossmydna @y0itsbri @7x10mickey @whatthebodygraspsnot @ms-moonlight-inn @mmmichyyy @sickness-health-all-that-shit @kiinard @transmickey @gallawitchxx @sleepyheadgallavich @rereadanon @whaticameherefor @darlingian @andthatisnotfake @ian-galagher @francesrose3

[charonarp]

Small Update (positive / ramble)

I'm literally working on two documents for this freaking project omfg

One is called "Minecraft Diaries: D&D 5e", which was semi-shared earlier, which is to focus on the primary stuff like locations, races/species, important figures, etc.

The other is called "Minecraft Diaries: Expanded Guide", which is literally meant to be a guide on how to go about making your own region, your own important figures (like Irene and her Divine Warriors), and whatnot.

Some info might not be entirely accurate. I'm mainly depending on the wiki for knowledge, which...isn't a lot, tbh. I've already rewatched season one at least a month ago, and that took...a while. My job certainly ain't making binge watching easy lol.

Combining info from MCD and Diaries Rebirth is certainly a choice...but honestly, Diaries Rebirth is easier for me to go back to than to rewatch three whole seasons of MCD...even though I want to...

Like...why am I doing this? I'll never get to DM it lol, but you know what? Other people might. I think it'd be wonderful if other people get into it. If not, oh well!

Daggerheart is definitely helping with this process tho, and I've been taking some inspiration from AFK Journey for some things (that game has me in a chokehold).

From now on, I'll be using the tag "mcddnd" for future updates, cuz why not. It's not an actual tag, so it'd be easy to find updates I guess. (I'll still use the main tags, but I gotta use a tag so that stuff is organized somehow, ya know?)

If you got any suggestions, lmk! It'll certainly help out tbh. I don't really have anyone to bounce off of, so I'm kinda going solo on this lol.

Honestly, I might just scratch off trying to make custom NPC sheets for characters like Gene, Zane, etc... I like making character sheets, but PCs and NPCs are SO different and honestly, making NPC sheets hurts my brain lol. Which is sad, because I was hoping to add NPC sheets in the main document should anyone want to add the actual characters into the game.

Like...I was working on Gene's stuff, but I don't know how to keep things balanced, nor do I recall everything about Gene. Man, working on homebrew is hard.

[nobodylikety]

Fox hybrid! Hyein 🦊

Hyein fox hybrid ver. 🐾

ps: It's the same case as Cat hybrid!Haerin & Hamster hybrid!Haerin, because Hyein had otter BUT ALSO fox vibes! so I'll make both versions 🦦🦊

tags: fox hybrid!Hyein x gn!reader??, fluff, hybrid AU.

Fox hybrid! Hyein is the youngest of Hybrid! New Jeans, she's literally a baby fox 🦊🍼

+ Baby foxes are curious and playful by nature. They explore their surroundings, investigate new smells, and engage in social interactions with their peers, and Hyein ALWAYS observes everything with big curious eyes

Fox hybrid! Hyein is very vocal, but really A VERY vocal queen 🔊 She is capable of making a lot of different sounds, like when she plays where she makes a sound called 'gekkering' which is a type of laughing noise, but she also barks, screams, howls, squeals and whines, so probably between her and Dani, you will not know what silence means. . .

Fox hybrid! Hyein has a VERY good sense of smell, she uses it to locate you or the members when she is separated from you

🦊 ، 𓃦 ﾟ｡ [ Sniffer baby fox ]

When Hyein wakes up, clumsily opening her sleepy little eyes, she unconsciously reaches out with her hand, touching the empty space next to her. There doesn't seem to be anyone in the house. The night before, you and the rest of Hybrid! New Jeans were there for a sleepover, with lots of cuddles, laughter and silly jokes, movies and snacks. She vaguely remembers falling asleep curled up with all of you, like a cuddle pack.

But now the bedroom is empty, probably because you have gone shopping for groceries, or something else that is part of your daily routine, leaving the space unoccupied, although retaining its warmth and aroma for a while.

And to Hyein's advantage, her fine fox sense of smell helps her clearly distinguish the distinctive smell of both the members and you, which gives her a lot of comfort especially on the days when she misses all of you. So, in search of some solace in her still sleepy state, she clumsily brings the pillow closer to her face, sniffing it and relaxing as she feels the intermingled fragrance of her cuddle pack.

"Family," Hyein thinks as she presses her face into the pillow.

After sniffing her pillow for a while, feeling calm enough to get out of bed, Hyein leaves her room, walking without making a sound, since she has the habit of walking with her little bare feet, while wearing and dragging the oversize hoodie she borrowed from Hanni.

The house is vaguely mixed with the scents of Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin and you, as if they were suspended in the air, and the fox hybrid takes in all the scents together, as she inhales deeply. She doesn't see anyone, but suddenly she smells intensely of someone, and she thinks she knows who.

You.

So with her usual stealth, befitting her fox-hybrid nature, Hyein walks as the scent guides her, wagging her bushy orange/red tail behind her, until she reaches your bedroom. She pokes her head out, her ears pricked and twitching.

"I found you!" Hyein exclaims smiling. You are organizing your things a little, part of your own routine—something outside of the group routine, like buying groceries—when Hyein appears and the task of organizing and ordering your belongings takes a backseat.

“How come you always find me?” You ask, chuckling. Even if you know the answer, it's always fun to hear her say it.

"Because your smell. And of course, with the help of the best sense of smell in this house, which happens to be mine." Hyein grins widely. Adorably cunning, like the fox she is. 🦊

Fox hybrid! Hyein plays with Danielle's toys! Since dogs and foxes are very similar, they share and play with the same types of toys <3 only that they differ in that Danielle likes squeaky and chewy toys that she can play with while resting, and Hyein likes toys for mental and psysical stimulation like resistant balls and agility tunnels

Fox hybrid! Hyein has a habit of gently nibbling and chewing Hanni's floppy ears <3 if Hanni has her head resting on one side of your lap, Hyein is automatically on the other, to play and gently sink her teeth into those floppy ears 🐇 this kiddo loves to chew and nibble, don't blame her!

[simplegenius042]

OCS as Character Tropes

Tagged by @nightbloodbix

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @voidika @direwombat @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @g0dspeeed @corvosattano @carlosoliveiraa @titiagls @turbo-virgins @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @afarcryfrommymain @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @megraen @starsandskies @derelictheretic @deputyash @purplehairsecretlair @minilev @la-grosse-patate @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @florbelles @shellibisshe @ladyoriza and @thewanderer-000

Will be doing OCs from The UnTitledverse, Life, Despair & Monsters and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. Quiz can be found here. Results below:

BENNY THE RÉVOLUTIONNAIRE (The UnTitledverse, The UnTitled Ventures & The Ender sagas)

Here's some Eldritch lore! For Benny, this result is more literal than it is metaphorical. Pretty much, the Omniscience (the subconscious of creation itself/the multiverse) created Benny (the seventh-borne Eldritch) to either replace Zachariah (the second-borne Eldritch) as the "Hand at Fate's Table" or to help guide him onto a better path (like many things with the Omniscience, its' intentions are somewhat ambiguous). He is essentially designed with altruism (if a little mischievous in his methods), and unlike Zachariah's callousness, need for control and disdain towards humanity, Benny has a pre-set need to care for humans, give them some level of independence, and see the good of humanity like the rest of his siblings (except for Zachariah). However, Benny's disappearance/banishment (Zachariah's doing) into the Void, led Benny to develop a rebellious attitude, to free humanity from Zachariah's ruthlessness and tyranny. This attitude eventually leads Benny to build up a revolt that will activate when the time was right, and with Joaquin Lockwood's help, they manage to build up a great chance to depose Zachariah. However due to Benny's naivety in his responsibility, overconfidence and gross underestimation of Zachariah's awareness and ability to counter his plans, Benny loses his trump card (Joaquin Lockwood) and his plans for rebellion is set decades back instead of simply a few years. Benny's idealism is shaken, but broken, and in fact, he takes to heart this lesson, reflecting on himself and improving to the point he gets the confidence to try again... this time with a lot more organization and help.

EVERMOND SCOWLZKA (The UnTitledverse and Life, Despair & Monsters)

Doctor Evermond Scowlzka has used the power of silence numerous times, and taken advantage of the opportunities it gave him to continue his twisted scientific pursuits. Scowlzka has a cheerful and friendly demeanor mixed with a calm and collected tone, though this hides his frustration and obsession with what controls humans; the mind or the body? His passion and determination to seek out an answer that fits the answer he wants pushes him to commit many human atrocities; irreversible dismemberment and mutilation of the human body, lead the hunt for Mario Emmet which caused the deaths of the Holmes' family who housed the shapeshifting alien, surgically transferring a young and dying Kiyotaka Ayanokoji's brain into a different body, not to save his life on behalf of Atsuomi, but to create a living experiment that could help him win the "mind vs body" debate, was willing to dissect a teenage Icarus Galatos to goad Hatter out (so he could also dissect the interdimensional plant/fungus creature) and had on numerous occasions attempted or succeeded in child murder (he really hates teenagers in particular). While I don't agree with 'The Tide' as his result in general, I can see where it fits him.

RYDER (A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, Fallout New Vegas)

Ryder is an interesting individual. She's cheated death many times, and traveled the Mojave and Wasteland long enough to feel numb towards the experiences she's faced. She hides her emotions behind various carefully crafted masks that help her get what she wants, and believes that playing all sides of New Vegas will eventually gift her a position of power that will resolve her crippling emptiness. She doesn't want to stay as a nobody courier who moves from one post to another with little to no impact, no lasting legacy. Always tired. Always full of regret. Always wanting more. And her near-death encounter with Benny was almost a wake-up call, and also the slight amnesia was enough to "renew" her into a blank slate, leading her to shape the future of the Mojave. And perhaps with a little help from a half-human, half-interdimensional creature figure wielding magic and a flame sword as well as his arrogant and almost psychotic half-sister who despises authority and harasses the elderly.

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: Incorrect Eyes

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍 || 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎

I already tagged all the Desecrate people this week so I'll do an Incorrect Eyes update this week!

BIG NEWS!!!! INCORRECT EYES WAS PUBLISHED!!! AND YOU CAN READ IT FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!!!

Okay, now let's talk some more about that! I was updating y'all pretty regularly earlier this year as I worked on IE and then I kinda... stopped.

Well, I was able to get it to the editor I was really hoping for (thank you @whatsuptyler ily beepaw)! Tyler did an amazing job really finding all my inconsistencies and making sure the narrative worked!

I also had a big change on the art end! I originally wanted to have Mx. Morggo doing the chapter art for IE, but they fell through (literally just never responded to an email after telling me they were interested in the project but that's okay! Life is weird!). Then I kinda waffled on where to go next and ended up having WerewolfPresident on IG do it and it turned out great!! I love the illustrations and the chapter header that I got, they're everything!!

I am also waiting on some illustrations to come in from my tattoo artist, I would like to use these as like those vellum art pages that you can put into books. I don't know if I'll actually get these art pieces but that just seems to be the vibe for IE lol

I say that because I am still waiting on the cover art for IE. I am really upset about this just because I have not heard from the artist since June, when I had stated that the book is being published in July back when I first got into contact with her in December. It has been nearly a year and I don't have the art. I am really hoping to receive it still, and I won't make the paperback editions of IE available until I have the cover illustration.

That's all the updates I really have on the art end of things, but I do have one more update in general: Incorrect Eyes qualifies for the Bram Stoker Awards in the Long Fiction category this year!! If you know an HWA member or are an HWA member yourself (like I am now!!), then I would greatly appreciate your consideration of my psychological religious horror story for the awards cycle this year!

Now that that's done, let's get to the good part (the snippies!):

Be Not Afraid. My life changed when I heard those three words. It wasn’t an immediate change. No, it was a slow, crawling thing. I was raised a good Catholic kid, after all. Those three words were ones that I grew up with, ones that I am well acquainted with. Sundays were always full of stories about the messengers of God, tales as great as They were that sung their praises. But, of course, any time the Angels were mentioned, the greeting wasn’t far behind. Be Not Afraid was a melody that hung in the background of my life over the soft harmonies of the church’s organs, soothing me into complacency.

maybe one more for yous:

I can remember what the Father told me to believe in church all those years ago. Remember how he guided me in prayer after I asked about this description and why is was so scary. He told me that the chants of the Angels were something to be heard, that They could lift a soul and bring it closer to God. But when I read the words on the page I return to the question the small child I used to be asked. Why is it so scary? I can’t hear their chants, my ears are filled with Their screaming and wailing. Their shouts beg for atonement and forgiveness. Images pop unbidden into my mind: Angels as we knew them growing up, human-like and innocent. But now They have tears of viscous blood streaming down Their faces as They grovel before His throne, screaming and begging for His warmth. Seraphim and Cherubim just behind Them, blocking the pathetic Angels in, forcing Them to submit to His holy gaze. Their screams harmonize in the worst ways, ringing through my mind and spilling through my ears. The mind-numbing pain They cause is only worsened as my eyes are drawn further down the page. Woe is me for I am ruined [must be silent] because I am a man of unclean lips and live among a people of unclean lips, and because my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. Unclean, unclean, unclean. The word repeats in my mind, tearing through the chorus of terror put forward by the Angels. I am unclean, just like he was. I live among people with unclean Eyes, just as he with lips. He—I—we are RUINED. My mind conjured the image of the next paragraph. Of the Seraphim flying towards me—Isaiah—us holding a glowing coal by means of a pair of tongs. From the altar is comes. As it lays the burning stone in my eyes, it speaks: Now that this has touched your lips, your wickedness is removed and your sin is atoned for. Then I scream.

and then the final thing I'll share, the first chapter header:

TAGLIST

@winterandwords @crypticcodexcreations @inkspellangel @smol-feralgremlin

@joswriting @love-whatit-loves @annetillney @bebewrites

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

how NOT to pirate music (simple)

With Spotify having tons of issues with taking music off its platform and not paying artists, and with both Spotify and Apple Music costing ridiculous amounts of money, AND with YouTube fighting with adblockers and literally costing you more money depending on what device you're buying Premium on -- you might be considering pirating music.

This is a very simple guide on how NOT to do that.

Pick a song. If possible, find a audio only or lyric video so it's ONLY the song and doesn't include silence or things like MV scenes

Find it on YouTube and use this YouTube to MP3 site: https://y232.live/ (or any YT to MP3 converter that works, but this one has no ads!)

If the song isn't on YouTube, google "[website] video to mp3 converter". Use caution when using these sites because they often have a lot of pop-up ads!!

Download it. You can name the file whatever you want, but things will be much easier for you if you name it something similar to the song title

Download a music sorting software. I use iTunes but there's also MusicBee which is free and does a lot of the same things. If you have other recommendations please share!

Upload the file(s) to the software.

Edit it to have the proper song name and artist name. Or name it whatever you want. This is the only real important part when it comes to organization. iTunes and MusicBee also give the options to list things like the album name, album artist, year, genre, etc. MusicBee lets you add tags as well and even list the language of the song.

Click play and enjoy!

(Re: downloading music to your phone, iTunes makes it very easy to sync your music library with your Apple Devices, but I'm still playing around with MusicBee so I'm not sure what capabilities it has yet. I've heard of another app called MediaMonkey which I believe is supposed to sync to Apple and Android devices but I can't say for sure)

This may seem like a lot of work (hypothetically of course), but having ownership of your own music files is definitely worth it!

[sophieinwonderland]

Oh, hey! It's been a while since I've dealt with anti-endos invading the endogenic tags!

Guess it's time to deal with this.

Off to a bad start right away.

I almost always only see "endos" as a pejorative used by anti-endos. It's rare that endogenic system refer to themselves as "endos." While I wouldn't say it's quite a slur, it's not

Okay, so right from the start, the sources they cite for the claim that endogenic systems are impossible under the Theory of Structural Dissociation are from DID-research... a blog by a doctoral student.

And these pages don't even say anywhere what @jananpa claims it does. Let's actually hear what the authors of the Theory of Structural Dissociation have said about the existence of other forms of plurality.

There you have it from two of the authors of The Haunted Self, the book that started the Theory of Structural Dissociation, that it's possible for other "self-conscious dissociative parts" to exist outside of trauma and dissociative disorders. (This is also consistent with how the ICD-11 states that you can have multiple "distinct personality states" without DID.)

At no point has the Theory of Structural Dissociation ever claimed that endogenic systems are impossible.

Stop lying.

Stop misrepresenting the theory of Structural Dissociation when even the authors don't support you.

Just noting that the source here is a Carrd which in turn doesn't provide sources for any of its claims.

This is probably where @jananpa got most of their misinformation since everything they say is taken straight from its talking points.

On this note, Jananpa mentioned wanting to major in psychology. If they go down this route, I sincerely hope that they learn how to tell if a source is trustworthy or not on their chosen career path, and to not just blindly believe every bigoted Carrd they come across.

This isn't actually an unfair assessment.

Well, aside from the repeated claim that endogenic plurality violates the Theory of Structural Dissociation, which we literally just proved was a lie. It is true that there isn't a "study" in the chapter.

All that this really shows is the opinions of Eric Yarbrough, who is a Distinguished Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association, in a book that was peer reviewed and published by the APA's publishing arm.

It's not a study. But it DOES show recognition and support in the psychiatric field by notable professionals.

Which is more than you can say of the anti-endo opinion that endogenic plurality isn't possible, because absolutely no psychiatrists will ever back you up on that claim, and it's disputed by both the creators of the Theory of Structural Dissociation and the World Health Organization.

Oh no! The sample size is six less than the rule of thumb for a minimum! The horror! 😲

But wait... did they... actually look at that source of theirs???

While the minimums have the largest margin of error, a 10% margin of error isn't really an issue in surveys that are just gathering general opinions like this. And this shows the 10% at 96 for population of larger than 5000. Basically only two off of what's listed here.

It's utterly ridiculous to say a sample size of almost 100 is even close to the equivalent of a sample size of 11.

I'm not going to comment on the Jung article itself since I haven't looked into this much. If anyone wants to add anything, they're welcome to. But obviously older works about plurality aren't using the word plural because the term itself is recent. They just describe instance of people experiencing multiple self-conscious agents sharing a body. Acting like someone not using the word plural is this great "gotcha" is silly.

What I will say on this is that yes, inner worlds can be consciously created in DID. There are guides out there on how to do it.

Actually, I don't think the leading theory is even that trauma causes you to "gain" an inner world (at least not directly), so much as retreating into fantasy worlds is a common trauma response and that action causes inner worlds to develop. Outside forces (trauma) result in an action (escapism) which leads to inner world development.

But the action does not require trauma.

Not everyone exposed to trauma develops complex inner worlds because not everyone responds to trauma with the same coping mechanisms.

You should also pick an armchair diagnosis and stick with it. Is his inner world SZPD or MADD? These are very different disorders.

Or better yet, don't do either. Not all daydreaming is maladaptive, and you shouldn't assume somebody has a disorder just because they have complex inner worlds. Immersive daydreaming is a common practice, and it's not maladaptive unless it interferes with daily life.

No.

Stop.

Literally all of this is wrong!

For starters, there's no evidence anywhere of the Tibetan Buddhist practice being closed, and the Dalai Lama has said that people of other religions can use Tibetan Buddhist meditations.

“Many Christians tell me they believe in Buddhist meditation, which can be learned by Christians. We teach right attitude. We teach meditation, which can be quite deep. These would be things that the West can take, and I think it is clear that Buddhists should practice certain Western methods, too.”

Moreover, the Tibetan Buddhist practice is not called Tulpamancy. "Tulpamancy" is a term associated solely with the Western practice.

And Tulpamancy is largely NOT a religious or spiritual practice. From Varieties of Tulpa Experiences:

76.5% of tulpamancers view their practice as psychological.

Both the above study and the one referenced in Jan Anpa's post are about the primarily psychological Western practice. As will be ALL research into tulpamancy. The Buddhist religious practices it shares an etymology with is completely irrelevant to this topic of studies into the disorder.

Tulpamancy is primarily seen as psychological plurality by most tulpamancers, and that's what these studies are about.

You're welcome to look into the above study further as it has a lot more information on tulpamancy. It's was written by Samuel Veissière, a psychiatry professor at McGill University in a book reviewed and published by the Oxford University Press.

Jananapa, if there's one thing that's clear from all of this, it's that despite being confident in your ignorance, you know absolutely nothing about systems, structural dissociation, plurality, tulpamancy or literally anything else discussed in your post.

Given your self-assured ignorance of systems, I wouldn't recommend people put any trust in your understanding of Autism or any of the other conditions you discuss on your blog.

If anyone wants to further educate themselves on endogenic systems, please see my Endogenic Syscourse Primer.

As always with these hate posts that end up being posted in pro-endo tags, it's only fair that I share my responses in anti-endo tags along with many other tags the initial post was made in.

If any anti-endos are bothered by this, please ask @jananpa to not post in our tags anymore. As long as anti-endos stay in their lane, I'll stay in mine. When anti-endos invade our spaces, my responses to those posts will continue to go straight to theirs. If we can't have safe spaces to exist, then you aren't allowed safe spaces to spread hate against us. (I will avoid DID/OSDD/traumagenic tags out of respect for non-anti-endos in those spaces. But you might want to ask that Jananpa stay out of those tags as well since I know you guys also tend to not care for singlets posting in those tags.)

[blackandwhiteandrose]

You wanna talk fic?

thanks for the tag @hippolotamus!

1. How many WIPs do you have currently?

Just one! I've never been able to really work on more than one thing at a time. But I also decided to focus on trying to write original fic. I'm totally in love with what I've got... I just wish life did not be life-ing so hard right now and I could do more with it.

2. Which one are you finding the hardest to finish? Why do you think that is?

Since I'm only working on one... it's that one. The last 3-4 months have been probably the most difficult time in my life, which has really put a damper on any kind of creativity and/or energy to make words.

3. What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

It has looked like everything from pulling over in a restaurant parking lot to make voice notes, to furiously typing out a vague outline in the shoe aisle of TJ Maxx, or with the original fic idea, calling my bestie to freak out (literally in tears) because I had a whole ass book plot pop into my head and I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it.

4. Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

I have always had specific songs that matched the fic (or at least the vibe of) that I would listen to while I wrote, and I have had a generic writing playlist for years.

This original fic is the first one that has ever had a very specifically curated, dedicated playlist.

5. Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organised?

Organization has never been my strong point, so any kind of outline was always just a random collection of thoughts ideas that may or may not guide the actual writing.

But again, this one is different as I fairly meticulously planned every single chapter. And then have again only used them as a guide. I mean, every writer knows your characters are the ones that decide what happens. You're just responsible for doing the typing.

tagging: @mostlyinthemorning, @smallumbrella369, @kiwiana-writes, @dinnfameron, @missgeevious