#Nobody else should feel pressured to do the same

[harmoniouseclipse]

This is so disheartening to see. It feels so weird to add a whole new cast of characters to Genshin and have only one of them be dark skinned. Granted, Iansan will be the darkest character in Genshin when she releases, but I did see a particular issue while talking with my friend; here is the chart I made going in depth about why her skin still feels so off to me (as an artist).

I feel like they are trying (somewhat) to push more out of their comfort zones, which I applaud them for. However, when you release a trailer filled with a whole new cast and only one of them actually has dark skin that isn't pale to medium tan, it creates a bad look imo.

And regarding their other games, it's so odd to make Arlan's whole thing be named with things referring to slavery. I think the devs maybe thought that they were giving empowering representation since most of them have to do with breaking free from oppression, but it really comes off as weird and disjointed. And I also feel like they could have added much better representation regarding Penacony. I don't play HSR so I was very surprised when a friend of mine told me that Boothill was based off of Native Americans, because as an American myself he is very much reminiscent of stereotypical southern country people. Of course I'm glad they didn't go the alternative route by making him a stereotypical Native American, since I have multiple friends who are and they are all very different people, none of them acting like how Hollywood portrays that culture though. And I also have never played HI3 but again, when my friend told me about one of the character's whole thing being that she hates her dark skin and bleaches it I was again shocked. But again, since I don't play these games and I know that HI3 was still one of their earlier games I wonder if it was just the early stages of development and poor aging kind of like old movies. Not as a way to excuse it, but as a way to understand why they went with that choice and from what I have seen they haven't copied that character plot(?) in any of their other games, thankfully.

E made an incredible video regarding the topic of Genshin's colorism so I'll link it here for you to watch since she does a much better job of explaining it than me lmao

I'm gonna end it here but I do have some extra points in the tags I wanna bring up briefly, and I might continue this in another reblog if I have time but for now these are the main thoughts I had ✌🏻

So, I hopped on here and saw nobody talking about the atrocity that is what genshin is doing to Natlan and since it was suggested we move the boycott to where others may not be able to hear Twitter specifically I decided to post something which I've normally never done.

Genshin has taken inspiration for Natlan from a bunch of different ethnic groups around the world, including but not limited to the Aztec, the Mayan, the Incan, the Māori, Native Americans, Native Hawaiians, and the West African.

The reason this is so dangerous is because it is literally covering up and whitewashing cultures. Hoyoverse promotes itself as a "diverse" and "worldwide" game, but if you can't even represent the people you're taking from properly, then what's the point? When it comes down to it, Hoyo can make beautiful representations based on cultures. One that I find consistently mentioned is Yunjin, who has a popular Chinese opera singer singing for an idle animation.

This extends outside of genshin, too, though. One point that particularly enrages me is the point of one Carole Pepper. Now, I haven't played much HI3, but from what I've heard, this poor woman hates her skin so much that she bleaches it. And to add insult to injury when I showed two side by side pictures of Carole to a friend of mine, said friend pointed out that she dressed more feminine the whiter she got.

Arlan's skill names have also been a cause of concern for a while now. With HSR releasing another person of color, I also beg you to consider the following: "Why did no playable characters on Penacony have darker skin? It was heavily based on America's Jazz Age, so wouldn't they include the people who created said music?" Another point is that of both Aventurine and Boothill. Both of these men were influenced by minorities and heavily whitewashed. Aventurine was based on the rromani peoples, and Boothill was based on Native Americans. Neither has an once of melanin.

I'll be posting more about this issue later but for now I'll leave it at that. I'll be reposting some art I've seen that incorporates more of these cultures and studying up more on what has been portrayed through this new trailer.

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

I know its kind of silly to say “don’t feel bad for canceling because of pain, fatigue, etc” because I know guilt is a reflex you can’t easily refrain from. But you can reason with yourself so instead I’ll say this:

Nobody can feel what you’re feeling but you. Nobody knows the severity of what you would be putting yourself through if you were to “tough it out.”

If you do “tough it out,” the purpose for you doing the thing will most likely not be fulfilled anyway. You probably will not be mentally present or engaged. You probably will not have a good time or get much out of it. Etc.

If people really have such a problem with it, thats a huge red flag. Being transparent about your needs and boundaries is a great way to weed people like that out of your life.

If you have any kind of chronic illness or disability, remember that you probably have a very warped judgement of what is “reasonable” to endure in terms of pain, fatigue, burnout, etc.

You didn’t ask for this, you don’t deserve this, there is no reason you should have to bear the weight of it alone. I bet if someone else was in your position, you wouldn’t mind helping accommodate for them?

Low energy days are truly sacred, take them seriously. Please respect your body’s signals. “If you do not choose times to rest, your body will choose for you” or however the saying goes

It is so much pressure to have to deliberate what sacrifices are necessary for proper self care. Give yourself extra credit for having to deal with that stress on top of whatever is putting you in that position in the first place. Thats a lot at once

You are leading by example and showing others that you would never expect them to hurt or overextend themselves for your benefit. Putting yourself first always inspires other to do the same.

Please be proud of yourself for even considering canceling and putting your needs first. That is so strong of you <3

[puari-vol]

Peer Pressure

CW: Hypnosis

I stood quietly and unobtrusively off in a corner of the ‘slumber party’ trying my best not to bother anyone. Occasionally I glanced over at my friend Kelsey who was talking animatedly with some girls and wondered why she had insisted I come along. Of course I had agreed at the time, it seemed like a good way to make friends. But now that I was here…I couldn’t bring myself to try talking to anyone. I fixed my eyes on the cup of water in my hand. This was all… fine, I was just being Kelsey's designated driver. I was being helpful, like a good friend should be. It didn’t matter if I had fun or not. 

I zoned out enough that when Kelsey tapped me on the shoulder I jumped

“Did you really just stand in the corner this whole time? Geez come on you goof its time for the movie!” 

She took my arm and dragged me toward the TV. Both couches were full so I ended up sitting cross legged on the ground in front of them. Kelsey was about to sit next to me before she was suddenly pulled away to sit with some other girls, so now I was just sitting next to two strangers. They didn't seem to mind me, but they didn't introduce themselves either.

The lights go off and the movie starts, the chatter dies down as everybody watches. It seemed like there was something wrong with the audio, there was an odd droning sound playing under the movie. But it wasn’t loud enough to be annoying and nobody else seemed to notice so I kept quiet. The movie was honestly kinda boring, I glanced around and accidentally made eye contact with someone doing the same thing. I felt myself blush and turned back to pay attention. The movie kept going and after a while I started to space out. I was so out of it that when something changed it took me a while to notice. The movie wasn’t playing anymore, or maybe…this was part of the movie? The screen just showed a pink and purple spiral spinning around and around. The droning had gotten louder. How long had the spiral been on the screen? I couldn’t remember. I looked to the girl on my right, about to ask if something was wrong with the movie. But she was just staring at the screen, focused. I noticed everyone else was doing much the same. I quickly turned back to the screen, not wanting to embarrass myself. As I watched I tried to remember what had been happening in the movie for this to make sense, the spiral and been going for at least a few minutes now, but the more I tried the more the details of the movie seemed fuzzy and distant. I stared intently at the screen, trying to find out what everyone else was looking at…

I blinked when there was suddenly someone sitting in front of me. I only noticed because she waved her hand in front of my face after she sat down. She was backlit by the spiral on the screen and she smiled at me. 

“Hey there” she said softly “First time here?”

I just nodded feeling strangely dizzy.

“Kelsy said she was bringing someone knew, is that you?”

I nodded again, she was gazing intently at me and I started to feel self conscious, I averted my eyes and saw that everyone else was still just staring at the spiral

“Well Kelsy has good taste, you’ll be lovely”

I blush, not expecting the compliment

“Um thanks” I mumble no longer able to meet her eyes. She was grinning at me now

“Are you ready?”

“Uh…for what?”

“To learn about the button that turns off your brain” 

I blinked as I tried to sort through the nonsense statement

“The what?”

She giggled and pointed off to my left 

“Just watch, you’ll get the idea”

I looked and saw she was pointing at the girls sitting on one of the couches, all of their eyes were glued to the spiral. As I watched, another girl came up behind them. Starting with the girl on the far left, she leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Then reached over and tapped her on the forehead. At once, she went limp. Head lolling forward, eyes closed. She slumped into the girl sitting next to her, who jolted as if suddenly startled awake, eyes blinking rapidly. But the girl behind the couch simply reached over and tapped her on the forehead as well. And suddenly both girls seemed to be fast asleep leaning into each other. The girl behind the couch smiled and gave them both a pat on the head before moving on to the rest of the couch

“You see? All good girls like you have a button that turns off their brain” 

I was staring open mouthed at the girls now asleep on the couch

“But…but I’m not-”

“Shhhhh”

I felt a hand on my cheek, and my head was turned to face the girl in front of me again. I was blushing like crazy now and I stammered something incoherent. The girl just smiled kindly

“Don’t worry, you won't be bothered by that kind of stuff soon”

Hand still on my cheek, she turned my head to the right, where I watched the girl sitting right next to me get tapped on the forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped back, mouth open and drooling.

“Isn’t she pretty?” 

She put her hand below my chin and made me nod, I hardly noticed I was just staring at the girl

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, all sleepy like that?”

She made me nod again

“Don’t you want to look like that?”

I nodded, I wasn’t sure if she made me or not

She turned my head to face her again. Her other hand was held up in front of me, her index finger pointed at me. My eyes focused on the tip of her finger

“W-wait”

“Nighty night”

She tapped me on the forehead

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[hippiegoth97]

Random Spencer Reid Thought #1

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, fem!reader, bau!reader, new relationship, sex at work, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, no use of Y/N, caught in the act (kinda, at the end), fluff

Some Tags: @hotwritergf @melodymunson @rafeyscurtainbangs @mediocredreams @loserboysandlithium

@bloodibambiidoll @littlexdeaths @sanctumdemunson @cairro-xx @veemoon (tbh I wasn't sure who all to tag, so I tagged some moots and people I know usually read my stuff. Feel free to ignore if it's not your thing tho lol)

"I swear to god, you're gonna get us caught one of these days, Reid." You say breathlessly, tugging on Spencer's tie to keep his lips close to yours. You'd dragged him into a nearby supply closet after the rest of the team had dispersed for lunch, most of them heading to a new BBQ place nearby. They'd asked you and Spencer to come along, but you've both had much more pressing things on your mind.

From the second you came in this morning (separately, of course, even though he'd stayed the night at your place), your eyes have wandered from your work to each other's desks from across the cluster. It's been absolute torture, forced to sit so far apart, unable to touch each other or whisper all the dirty things you plan to do later. All you had to get yourself by was vivid thoughts of Spencer tossing his papers away, stalking over to you, and bending you over your desk to fuck you silly. You're sure he was picturing similar filthy things, given how often he cleared his throat and crossed or uncrossed his legs. Although, the ideas inside his head are usually more centered around getting down on his knees and burying his face between your thighs. It's a wonder that nobody seemed to notice your discomfort, really. The amount of stolen glances and fidgeting in your seats are certainly behaviors that should set off a profiler's internal alarms. But, thus far, you've managed to fly just below everyone's radar.

You've been seeing each other for a few months now, keeping it a secret from everybody else. It started off as a fluke date shortly after you joined the BAU team, and Spencer took a shine to your quick wit and bottomless well of intellect in no time at all. He'd asked you out for coffee (after a barrage of peer-pressuring encouragement from Morgan), wanting to show you around a bit as you were new to the area at the time. Spencer was a complete gentleman, opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, offering you his jacket when you got cold. Add on the way you talked one another's ears off about everything under the sun, moon and stars, and you were hooked on each other in an instant. Neither of you had met anyone who could keep up, or maintain your interest before. By the time he walked you home that night, you shared in the knowledge that this...spark you felt was something special.

Things progressed rather quickly from there. You've gone out together at least once a week, even sneaking out at night during cases to get some quality time in. A dinner here, a tipsy make-out in either of your hotel rooms there, as well as more educational outings to the planetarium, various lectures, and art exhibits when you're at home base. It didn't take long to heat things up, either. Spencer was less experienced than you, having only a couple casual hook-ups under his belt, which went as awkwardly as one would expect. But you were patient with him, showing him what you like and what you don't, helping him figure out the same for himself. It was a simultaneously experimental and exhilarating experience for you both when you finally had sex the first time.

And now, here you are, all wandering hands and moaning mouths in a closet full of office supplies. Spencer's got you sitting on a metal filing cabinet, legs spread in your pencil skirt as he stands between them. His large hands grip and squeeze your thighs, while he rolls his hips to press his erection against your clothed cunt. "Don't act as if the idea of getting found out doesn't turn you on." Spencer teases, smiling against your lips as you tug him forward into another kiss.

"Maybe a little." You admit, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Your eyes drift closed, and you feel his hand slowly slip further down your leg and under your skirt. His lithe fingers pull your panties to the side, rubbing sensual circles around your clit. You moan down his throat, your own hands reaching blindly for his belt now. You don't have a lot of time, as much as you hate to rush this.

"We should tell them soon. It's only a matter of time before they catch on." Spencer suggests, slipping two fingers into your soaked pussy with ease. The sound he ends up swallowing from your lungs makes his dick twitch inside his pants. Never in his life did he think he'd be so lucky to find a woman like you, or a woman at all, for that matter. Spencer enjoys every moment spent with you like it's his last, and it's been nice existing in this safe romantic bubble. But sneaking around has its disadvantages, namely having to keep his hands to himself when you're around the team. Far be it from Reid to be unprofessional in any sense, but, fuck, it's so hard to behave when you're around.

"I know, Penelope's been dropping lots of extra hints lately." You say with a light laugh, your insides boiling as Spencer curls his digits inside of you. They're perfectly long and slender, reaching all the right places every time. He's made you come with them alone on many occasions.

"I noticed. She's not very subtle." Reid chuckles, his gaze drifting down as you manage to get his belt unfastened. You waste no time in undoing to button and zip, reaching inside his boxers to grab hold of his aching length. According to you, he's very well endowed. Even though he's aware the average size of male genitalia is 5.1 inches when erect, he's never gotten curious enough to measure himself. A brief visual guess probably puts him at around seven or eight, not that he's all that concerned about it. All he cares about it making you happy, and his mind is far too vast to be fixated on how long his cock is.

"I don't think she ever has been." You comment, eyes focused on Spencer's dick in your grasp. He's rock solid, his tip rosy pink and leaking pearlescent precum. The sight makes your pussy throb around Reid's fingers. If you had more time, you'd drop to your knees in an instant.

"And that's why we love her." Spencer adds, groaning as you stroke him nice and slow. The both of you keep this up for a moment, zeroing in on one another's most sensitive areas that you've craved all day. Soft sighs and moans leave your mouths, mingling with the wet schlick sounds of your foreplay. "But, enough about the team." He says softly, meeting your gaze. His free hand cups your cheek, drawing you in closer as you stare into his beautiful brown eyes. "This moment is just for us." He nearly whispers as he kisses you deeply, lovingly. Neither of you have dropped the 'L' word yet, though you both certainly feel it for one another. But the time to say it definitely isn't during a lunchtime quickie in a damn closet. The occasion will present itself, at a later date.

While Spencer has your attention captured in the kiss, he gently takes his cock from your grasp and into his own. He gasps against you, tangling his tongue with yours to make your knees weak, just like you taught him. He gives his dick a couple fervent strokes, taking his fingers out of your cunt so he can line himself up. You whine at the loss, though your stomach twists in anticipation of what will soon take their place. Using his pruned fingers to hold your panties to the side, the sticky tip of Spencer's cock nudges against your center. More moans brew within your throats, kept hidden inside to prevent you from being discovered.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his hair as you melt into him. His lips and tongue make you feel dizzy with lust, and his cockhead rutting against your folds is sending you into orbit. "Spence, please. I need you, baby." You plead between desperate kisses.

"I need you, too, you have no idea." Reid replies, pulling back just a moment so he can see what he's doing. He positions his dick at your entrance, and pushes inside at an agonizing pace. Low moans escape you both, you at the stretch, and him at the squeeze. "Fuck, you're so wet." Spencer says, trying to keep his cool.

"All for you, Spence." You say sweetly, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him as close to you as possible with your legs. His hands return to your thighs, holding on tight as he begins to thrust.

Spencer starts off slow, watching as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy with no resistance. Your arousal makes him all shiny in the dim light, already forming a creamy ring around his base. "God, you're perfect." He exhales, unable to think of a single thing that looks as beautiful as this. The two of you, becoming one, your interlocking parts sculpted by nature to fit together flawlessly. Nothing within his expansive memory could possibly compare.

"So are you, baby. Can you go faster? We're running out of time." You beg pathetically, needing this release before you inevitably have to go back to work filling out papers and looking over crime scene photos.

"I hate how right you are about that." Spencer replies with a broken sigh, picking up speed with his thrusts. The infallibly accurate internal clock you share is ticking down, every push of his hips against yours marking each second that's taken from you. He plants his lips on yours again, focusing on giving you what those desperate noises you're making are telling him. You need him, all of him. Every last inch rutting into your sopping cunt until you see stars. And when it comes to you, Reid always aims to please.

"Fuck, Spence, just like that." You pant between fervent kisses, marveling at the way his cock pounds into your g-spot with flawless precision. The coil of arousal you've been building up since you sat down with your coffee this morning ripples and tangles with every thrust.

It becomes rather difficult for Spencer to keep kissing you when his pace picks up even more. His head falls forward, resting on your shoulder as he continues to wind you both up towards ecstasy. He turns his head slightly, hatching the naughty idea to speak lowly in your ear. "I can't wait until we get home later, and I can take my time with you." He says, trying so hard not to let the loud groans he wants to emit come through. They come out as hushed whimpers instead, which only turns you on more.

"Fuck." You let out a small noise of your own, muted as you bite down on your lower lip. But he hears it all the same, and keeps going.

"I'll spend all night touching you in all your favorite places, fuck you until the sun comes up, make you cry out for me as many times as you ask me to." His words are equally filthy and adoring, showing you just how much he wants to worship you and your body. Chills run up and down your spine as he speaks, his breath burning hot against your neck. It's nearly too much, and yet, you can't enough.

"God, Spence, please don't stop!" You moan, far too loudly.

"Now who's gonna get us caught?" Reid teases, even though the way you squealed nearly made him blow his load entirely.

"Sorry...sorry..." You pant the words out, for fear of being too loud again.

"It's okay, baby. I like knowing just how good I make you feel." He coos to you, almost sending you over the edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly in warning. His breath catches at the sensation, right there with you in terms of how close you are to reaching climax. "God, that's it...you're so close, so am I. Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel so good, I swear...so fucking good..." Spencer's mind sprints faster than his mouth can get the words out, barely audible as he buries himself further into your neck. He slams himself into you even harder, faster, chasing his release and dragging you alongside him.

"Spencer, oh my god." You gasp as he hits that perfect place inside you cunt even better than before, his hips pounding against yours hard enough to leave bruises. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your neck in a feverish need to make you lose control. It's definitely working, the waves of bliss beginning to roll over you in thick crashes. "Oh, god, make me cum, baby...don't stop, you feel so good..." You babble mindlessly as your insides flutter around Reid's dick, threatening to clamp down on him at any moment. "Fuck, oh, I'm gonna cum...oh, god- fuck...oh, spenceSpenceSPENCE!" You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your scream as your orgasm takes hold. You tremble violently in Spencer's grip, your pussy strangling him with all its might. Stars blur your vision, pure pleasure coursing through your veins at lightning speed. You cling to him, nails clawing at his back, heels digging into his ass helplessly.

"Fuck-ing- god." Spencer stutters out as you squeeze him so tight, biting down hard into your neck to muffle the load groan rushing from his chest. He pierces you sloppily through his release, painting your eager walls with thick ropes of sticky white, hips stuttering and feral grunts leaving him with every stab of his spent cock. He gradually comes to a stop as your shared high subsides, pulling his softening length from you, watching as your mixed release flows from your now-sore cunt. He reaches into his pocket for a kerchief he keeps for such occasions, gazing adoringly into your lust-drunk eyes as he cleans you up. He would use his mouth, if there were time for such things.

You gasp as the soft fabric meets your puffy lips, never breaking Spencer's stare while he takes care of you. You've never felt more in love in your life than you do right now, with your legs still spread wide open, while this gorgeous, scrawny, genius wipes your combined spend away. Once you're all clean, he pulls your skirt back down over your legs, and puts his flaccid cock inside his pants, fastening the belt with casual ease. He helps you down from the cabinet, noting your wobbling legs as you stand in your sensible heels.

"All set?" He asks, earning a giggle from you as his hair has become more of a mess than usual.

"Almost." You say softly, smoothing down his unruly locks to look more presentable, and less like you two just went to town on each other over lunch. "Well, we'd better get back out there. The others should be arriving back now." You say, heading for the door first. You hate to leave at all, but the last thing you need is to get caught right now.

"I'll wait the three minutes, and meet you back in there." Three minutes, the amount of time you'd determined was appropriate enough to excuse you both coming back to the bullpen near the same time without raising suspicion. No one bats an eye at three minutes difference. It could be explained away as a coffee refill, a bathroom break, anything really. But returning at the same time? Or leaving this small room at the same time? Out of the question. You'd made the mistake of returning at the same time once, and you didn't hear the end of it from the team for a good three days, despite the assertion that you and Reid had been in separate places at the time.

"Okay. See you then." You nod, giving him a quick kiss. You open the door, checking to see if the coast is clear. Satisfied with your findings, you step out from the closet, closing the door behind you. You're about to turn and walk in the direction of the bullpen, when you end up smack dab in front of Penelope. You have no idea where she came from just now, or how long she's been hiding out. But the sly smirk on her face tells you she knows enough. "Hey, Garcia. How was your lunch?" You ask nervously, failing to play it cool.

"Oh, it was good. I brought some leftover eggplant parmesan from home." Penelope replies, nearly bursting with the knowledge that you and Reid have indeed been hooking up, as she rightly suspected. "How was yours?" She asks coyly, biting her lip as she expects you to spill all the gory details she couldn't hear through the door.

"It was...fine. I packed a lunch as well." You answer, clearing your throat.

"Oh, I'm sure you packed something. What did you have? Some sausage maybe? Or a footlong?" Penelope continues to tease, and at this point, you know the jig is up.

"Oh, alright! Yes, I did! You happy now?" You exclaim, rolling your eyes as your arms cross out of reflex.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Garcia chuckles, doing one of the dorkiest victory dances you've ever seen. The few passersby give her a sideways glance, but she doesn't pay them any mind.

"Okay, okay!" You put your hands on her shoulders to still her, meeting her eyes. "Look, can you just promise me you won't say anything? Spencer and I plan to tell everyone when the time is right, but we like keeping this thing to ourselves for now. Alright?" You implore with her to keep her mouth shut, for your sake, as your friend, and Spencer's.

"Yeah, I can do that." She nods in understanding, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys!" She squeals, getting excited again.

"Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate that." You smile, returning her embrace.

"So do I." Spencer says from the other side of the door.

"You better treat her right, pretty boy! Or mama is gonna get you!" Penelope warns with all the love in the world.

"I fully intend to." Spencer replies, and you can practically see his lovesick expression from out here, and how his eyes must be looking straight at where he imagines you're standing, meaning every one of those four simple words.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 11

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader + outdoors/public

How are yall spending your weekend? Im gonna spend it doing absolutely nothing, i hope. This kinda goes along with the vader prompt from last year, which you can read here. But it can still be read as a stand-alone, i think?

this has some dom/sub vibes between the reader and Vader, that just came as i wrote this. enjoy.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Being Darth Vader’s imperial officer came with its benefits and drawbacks. Being so clearly marked as Vader’s, in a special uniform that fit his colour scheme awoke fear in those around you, and garnered you much respect. It also meant you didn’t have to fear your superior in the same way, especially after you had started frequenting his quarters so he could “make sure your uniform was up to code”.

Most times it ended with you on your knees with him in your mouth, but on days where his pains were at the worst, Lord Vader simply used the force to have his way with you instead. You couldn’t see his face, and there was little chance you ever would, but you had a feeling he was smiling. At least a little, as you writhed and gasped on the cold metal floors of his chambers, as he played you like the little tool you were to him.

Sith did not love, it was not in their nature. But Vader could admit he was at least… fond of you. it was not in the same way he felt about Padme, no one could be Padme. But you were different in your own way. You didn’t fear him the same way as everyone else. You did fear him, everyone did, but it had a layer of respect in it that he hadn’t felt since he was Anakin Skywalker.

Your loud dreams about both Vader and Skywalker also helped with that, as Vader worked to slowly push the thoughts of Anakin out and replace them with only himself. It did feel nice to sometimes take the form of Anakin in your dreams, just so you could fuck him for once, since that wasn’t possible after he became more machine than man.

But being Vader’s own personal imperial officer, his “pet” as some whispered around the ship or death star, also came with the benefit that nobody dared question you. Or rather, nobody dared question Lord Vader. Which was why nobody questioned your position at his feet as he stood, staring out into hyperspace.

The few working around the bridge dared barely look in your direction, most fearing the powers of the force. Most knew little about the force, only that it was a power that made a being able to do things that should only be possible by gods. And the empire had made sure to scrub away what little knowledge there was. This resulted in most thinking that Vader always knew what they were thinking. He could, if he wanted too, and did most days. But with you at his feet there were more interesting things to focus on.

You had been ordered to stay quiet as you rubbed against his boot, feeling the unforgiving nature of his metal limbs against where you were most sensitive. Your uniform was pristine as always, not even allowed to have a single stitching out of place. That would be insulting to your lord you know, to walk around in such a special uniform and look dirty or disorganized.

But it was so hard to keep your face blank and your voice silent as you felt the force tighten around your base again, putting a stop to the orgasm that had been bubbling for what must have been the tenth time. At least, you thought so, maybe you had lost track.

The whine that was bubbling up in your throat was cut up with a familiar pressure, the minimal creak of Vader’s gloved hand telling you that he was using the force to quiet you. He had never choked you to near death, but he liked to remind you that he could. Vader could do anything to you, and at this point, after serving him for so long, you had a feeling you would let him.

As if he could sense your thoughts, which he most likely could, the squeezing around your throat and shaft lessened. It was still there, like an ever-constant reminder that he could snap your neck if he so wanted, but it only served to make your blood rush faster.

It was a little messy that your body had learned to become aroused by his threats, or perhaps promises, that he could kill you if he so pleased. About Vader’s absolute power over you, and anyone under his rule. The emperor may be the one at the top, but to you, Vader was the greatest.

The minimal hitch in his rhythmic breath made you shudder. He had liked those thoughts. It was only your amount of experience that you knew that, having had to learn what every minimal hitch of breath, curl of a finger, or turn of his helmet covered head meant. But it felt so rewarding now, to be the only one able to pick such things up.

There was a press against your prostate, an invisible force that you now knew was the force. Lord Vader had clearly been pleased with your opinion of him, rewarding you by rubbing that one place inside you that you didn’t touch yourself anymore, after Vader had ordered you not too.

It made a shuddering soft gasp leave you, causing an immediate flash of shame and panic to fill your chest. Lord Vader had told you to be quiet, and yet you had gasped, loud enough for those sitting by the panels closest dared peak over, before immediately looking away in fear once more.

You could feel tears gather in your eyes. You must have disappointed Lord Vader so much, you couldn’t even follow a simple order. The thought of his punishments made you want to grovel for forgiveness. Vader didn’t punish you in ways he punished others, there was no fear of death, but feeling him torture your prostate or cock from the other side of the ship, sometimes made you wish it was death.

For Vader didn’t do punishments lightly, small things like uniform irregularities had you edged till you sobbed. Or when he wasn’t in incredible pain, Vader found it fun to put you over his knee, letting his heavy metal hand spank you. Feeling his ungloved hand honestly always felt hotter than seeing his cock, like you were feeling and witnessing so far beyond your league that you could never dare try to put it into words.

But instead of punishing you, Vader’s hand slowly raised and placed itself on the top of your head, knocking your hat to the floor with a soft noise. In the quiet room it felt loud, loud enough to make some of the other worker’s flinch. Lord Vader didn’t need to speak, his one action was enough for you to sigh in relief. He was feeling forgiving today, he wouldn’t punish you for your small mishap. For now, at least.

You could hear his voice in your head, making you almost jolt. It was strange to get used too, to hear him through your mind and not your ears, but you understood it. Lord Vader couldn’t be caught speaking to anybody he didn’t need to speak too, so it always felt more intimate when he spoke to you this way. When he praised you or scolded you, like the pet you were.

His rumbled deep words had your neck straightening, as you moved your hips more insistently against his boots. You knew you would have to shine them later, most likely with your tongue, but that was fine too, you didn’t mind. Instead, you struggled to keep yourself quiet as Vader used the force to stimulate you further, almost cruelly forcing you over the edge as you gripped his leg, shaking all over as you were finally allowed to finish.

The heavy gloved hand on top of your head was all the comfort you got, at least in the eyes of the others there. Nobody could see how the force slowly rubbed your limbs and ran across your brain like a comforting cold cloth. Times like these reminded you that Lord Vader could be kind, in his own way at least, and to you.

It made it easier to pick up your hat again and rise to your feet, acting like nothing was happening as a small twitch of Vader’s hand had the creases in your uniform smoothing out. You could see the nearby workers blushing as you put your hat back on and took your dutiful spot behind Vader. Never beside him, and never in front of him, but behind him like the loyal pet that they all whispered you were.

And maybe you were a pet, all Vader had to do was tell you to bark. And bark you would, until your throat was raw, and your lungs collapsed. Because Vader was all you had, and something told you, that you were all he had in return.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober Day 2: Marking

Agatha Harkness x Sapphic Reader

Wanda keeps flirting with you and Agatha needs to stake her claim. She doesn’t expect her methods to make you cum

Content notes: Lots and lots of biting, reader is called good girl, sweet girl, slut, pain slut, masochist. Reader cums from getting bit and nipple play. Use of magical restraints.

“I hate that she keeps flirting with you.” Agatha said.

“She’s like that with everyone. You know Wanda.” You assured. “And you know I’m yours.”

“I know. But maybe she needs a reminder.”

“What are you thinking?” You said, playfully tilting your head to the side.

Agatha smiled at you. “Well, that’ll be a good start.”

And soon you were pressed against the wall with Agatha pressing kisses to the side of your neck. They were sloppy and opened mouthed, but not quite what either of you were looking for, yet.

“Please Agatha.” You whined.

“Please what?” She murmured agains against your skin.

“Please Agatha, please leave a mark.”

“Good girl. But you know I’m not stopping at one right?”

“You better not.”

Agatha finally sunk her teeth into you and you practically squeaked. She held you firm, not letting you squirm away. Then she sucked hard on the spot until she was sure you’d have a deep purple spot that would stay for days.

Your thoughts started to go fuzzy. Your neck was such a sensitive spot and Agatha knew just how to mark you unravel.

“So pretty with my mark on you. I think the other side should match hm?”

“Yes ma’am” was all you could muster in response.

“You’re such a little masochist. Sometimes I wonder if you could cum from my bites. Maybe we should try hm?” Agatha said. She left a few firm kisses with her lips before sinking in once again.

“Fuck.” You moaned and whimpered as she sunk into you more and more, pushing you just to your limit.

“There’s no hiding these is there baby?”

You shook your head.

Agatha smiled. “You already look like mine, but I bet you’d like every inch of you to look like mine hm?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good girl” She said, guiding you to the bedroom.

She stripped off your shirt to reveal your bare back and chest.

“Y’know what, I’d better get you to the bed. I know how weak in the knees my bites get you.”

She led you by the wrist and laid you down. Magical binds keeping your hands trapped to your sides. Your legs were spread apart a bit and held down by the ankles.

Agatha straddled you. “Such a helpless little thing. And all mine to play with.”

She moved to start kissing your collar bone. You squeaked as she bit the same spot. She repeated the process on the other side. She couldn’t bite you as hard here, but the noises you were making were still delicious.

She moved to your chest. Sinking into the fleshiest part, steadily applying more pressure until you were moaning and squirming. She soothed the area with her tongue and moved to take a nipple into her mouth.

“Feels so good ma’am, love being yours.” You said breathlessly.

Agatha popped up, “such a little pain slut. I love claiming every inch of you baby.”

She left a handful of marks across both sides of your chest of varying sizes and intensity. You were throbbing between your legs from what her mouth was doing to you.

Agatha moved down to your stomach, which she knew was especially sensitive to her bites. You drew in sharp breaths and gasps as Agatha had her fun. She trailed her hand between your legs and felt your arousal.

“Such a needy little thing. Nobody else gets you worked up like this, do they?” Agatha asked.

“No ma’am, only you.”

“Good girl.”

Finally she was between your thighs. She undid your wrists.

“Be a good girl and play with your nipples for me.” She instructed.

You pinched and pulled and rubbed while she sank her teeth hard into your inner thigh. Unexpectedly, and orgasm washed over you. Agatha watched in awe as your hips bucked against nothing and as you whimpered and moaned for her.

She let you recover and undid the rest of her magic.

“Y’know hon, I was mostly kidding earlier.”

“I can’t help what you do to me.”

“I suppose you can’t. Oh you look so pretty already, sweet girl.” Agatha said as she admired how thr bruises were blooming all over you.

“Not that you aren’t always stunning, but right now, you are so undeniably mine.” She said, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your forehead.

“All yours, always.” You said sleepily.

[ssturniolo]

could u write something where reader is going through a sort of depressive episode where like trader just kinda feels hopeless and stuff and is pushing chris away and so he doesn’t understand why until matt like points it out and so chris then feels bad and comforts reader sorry if this is long😭

Everything’ll be alright

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - mentions of depression, bad mental health, Chris being oblivious, not proofread

Everything in your life has just been going wrong. Or at least it’s felt that way. Simple everyday tasks have grown increasingly difficult to do and every waking moment is it’s own battle. You’ve had no contact with the outside world in who knows how long, not even your own boyfriend. It just seems as though nobody cares and that, along with everything else is slowly destroying you.

Only leaving your bed to use the bathroom and grab another bag of chips that will eventually be thrown to the side uneaten, has been how you’ve been living for awhile now. You’re filled with this overwhelming feeling of despair and it just won’t go away. At war with your own mind, and there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of this tunnel. Just a dead end.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** **

Chris lays on the couch, scrolling through Instagram while hoping that you’ll answer one of his million texts. He knows you’re pushing him away but he can’t figure out why. What did he do wrong? You’re his first girlfriend and he’s so afraid to loose you but he doesn’t know what’s wrong or what to do.

“Me and Nick are going to McDonald’s if you want to bring y/n,” Matt calls as he grabs his keys off the counter.

“No that’s ok, I don’t think she’d want to” Chris reply’s, not looking up from his phone.

“But I thought she loves McDonald’s? I haven’t heard from her in awhile, how’s she doing?” Matt asks, his voice laced with concern.

“I wouldn’t know” Chris mumbles, clearly hurt.

Every once in awhile you kind of disappear but you’ve never done it for this long, let along not talking to Chris at all.

“Did you guys break up?” Matt asks gently as he sits by Chris on the couch.

“No but she ghosted me” Chris starts, pressing his palms into his eyes. “She’s completely disappeared off of social media, and never answers my texts or calls even when it says she’s active.”

Worry is painted across Matt’s features as he watches his brother fight off tears.

“Chris I think you should go check up on her. Y/n wouldn’t do this without a really good reason and I think she’s really struggling right now. I’ll bring you on the way to McDonald’s ok?”

Chris never thought about that fact you might not be doing well, he was more concerned about you ignoring him.

“Ok, let’s go.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** **

You’ve been curled up on your bed, staring at the same spot on your wall for what’s seemed like forever. How long exactly? You have no clue. Your only telling of time was whether there was light peeking through the blinds, or if everything was just swallowed in darkness.

The creak of the door to your room opening startles you out of your dazed state, confused as you hadn’t heard anyone come into your apartment.

“Hey there princess” a familiar voice whispers as he shuts the door behind him.

Chris.

Without another word, he climbs into your bed, snaking his arms around you, holding you close against his chest. And that’s all it took for you to burst into tears, wetting his t-shirt as you cry into his chest.

“I’m trapped Chris, I’m trapped” you manage to cry out in between sobs.

“I don’t know what to do”

“Everything will be alright baby, we’ll figure this out together, I’ve got you” he whispers soothingly into your hair.

There’s a terrible pressure on your chest, you feel everything and nothing at the same time, and your whole life seems to be crumbling down in front of you, but Chris is there. Right besides you through it all just like he’s always been. The world could be falling apart and he’d be there, ready to hold you in his arms and tell you everything will be alright.

Right now, all you need is Chris and he doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for the request my love 🫶🏻

XOXO - Zoe

Tag-list ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @soleilsturniolos @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @nickenthusiast @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

[lilyhyperfixates]

Anthony and his wife are totally different, having an argument with different ideas (maybe she has the same personality as eloise). (but nothing too heavy, probably something funny and cute)

just a lil drabble, hope you like it!

“No, I absolutely agree.” You tell Eloise. The two of you were talking about Lady Whistledowns latest publication, theorizing about who she may be. “She must be a member of the ton, how else would she hear that much gossip?”

Eloise and you got along very well, something Anthony was very happy about. You became Viscountess Bridgerton a little over a year ago, and your entire marriage has been pure bliss. In truth you could see a lot of yourself in Eloise, recognizing the rebellious streak she has. You yourself had nod been keen on the idea of marriage before you met Anthony.

“Her publishings are pure speculation, a gossip monger.” Eloise exclaims. She has been on a hunt to find out who the anonymous writer for the entire season. “I certainly don’t agree with what she publishes, only spreading shame.” You agree before taking a sip of your tea.

The door to the sitting room opens and Anthony appears in the doorway. Eloise begins to speak again but you silently signal for her to stop. You knew your husband wasn’t going to be happy about you speaking with his sister on such topics, or encouraging her search for the writers identity.

Anthony presses a kiss to your forehead and sits down next to you on the sofa. “What were you speaking about? Do not stop your conversation on my account.” He says.

“Nothing at all dearest, lady’s talk.” You assure him while shooting a sly wink to Eloise. “Yes, nothing for you to know about brother.” She almost sighs out, annoyed at her brother interrupting your conversation.

Anthony raises an eyebrow and already knows what the conversation had been about. You got along well, were a lot alike. But maybe a bit too much. “I do not hope you are encouraging Eloise in her search of Lady Whistledown.” He tells you, a bit frustrated to have to tell you yet again.

You had fought about this topic before, but you did not see the harm in the young girl doing something she clearly enjoyed and wasn’t harming anyone. “Eloise, would you excuse us? It seems your brother and I have something to talk about.” You ask the girl, ignoring Anthony’s question.

She nods in answer to your question and exits the sitting room swiftly. You turn to Anthony and frown a bit. “Do we really have to argue on this again? We clearly do not agree on this subject.”

“Eloise should spend her time in a more proper manner. Finding a suitable husband for example, it is your responsibility to guide her into doing as such.” Anthony states as pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

You scoff. “And you believe I am not doing my best? Eloise is a young lady full of fire and fervor. I believe she will find a husband when she feels ready to, we should not pressure her into marriage if she does not feel ready.” The grip on your teacup gets a bit tighter as you feel quite passionately on this subject.

It is your belief that nobody should get married under pressure. Your marriage with Anthony hadn’t been pressured and it turned out very happy.

“I am just saying, she has time. It does not harm anyone that she wants to know who Lady Whistledown is.” You continue, softening your tone a bit to try to convince Anthony.

Your husband sighs and leans back into the sofa. “I know, I am only afraid she will not find a suitable husband in time. That she will become undesirable as time goes on. I only want the best for her.”

“I know you do, but you do not have to hold her back in order to do so my love.” Your tone remains soft and gentle. Anthony nods and pulls you into him a bit. “You’re doing great as a brother Anthony. Do not worry.” You whisper to him.

Everything was going to be alright, and now Anthony realizes that as well.

[sukunasweetheart]

This is just a quick rambling i did mostly at like 4am but just a warning for dark content, murder and manipulation 🤞🤞🤞

Heian era sukuna x op reader who isnt equal to his strength, but close enough to it that he pardons your weakness and keeps you at an arm's length distance bc youre not strong enough for him to belong to you, but youre also too precious to kill, or to belong to someone else.

Youre fun. Youre a pretty thing to look at, and to pleasure himself with. Above all that, youre just like him, thinking only of yourself and plainly disregarding everything else... messing around with you comes only second best to dining on human flesh whenever he's in need of some rich entertainment. And he really believed you'd remain the same, strong/unrelenting/selfish, not by his side per se, but around him, forever.

Until he witnesses you showing a strange interest in someone else... a powerless nobody. An insignificant human man.

That's not right. That's not like you. You should be digging your heel into the man's face from above. You should kill him on the spot. Why are you gazing at him like that instead?

He leaves you be. It must be just a temporary infatuation. Everybody needs a new plaything once in a while, right? And he couldn't care less about what you get up to in your spare time, anyway.

Sukuna turns a blind eye to it for a period of time... and he couldn't have made a bigger mistake. Your little boytoy lasts too long for his liking, and he eventually wants to interfere, to question you on it.

He shows up to where you are, and you're sitting next to the man as if he deserves to even meet you eye-to-eye like that, being such a worthless existence.

He doesn't like it. The way you protectively throw a hand over the vermin behind you. He doesn't like it at all. He considers doing the job for you, to kill him without hesitation, but something stops him from doing so. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to see you get emotional over another's death. The slightest sliver of a chance that it could trigger you to fight sukuna in the name of a third party, other than yourself makes him feel disgusted. That's not what he wants.

He'll drag you away from that insect, instead. He'll remind you of your status, of what kind of man suits you better, suits you best. He'll snip off this growing bud before it blooms.

Sukuna will mock you for getting infatuated with such a lowly being. But you seem shameless. And that irks him. As much as he wants to point out that you're changing, he doesn't, because he knows something is changing in him, too. He shouldn't care this much for a woman like you. If you've displeased him, he should've just killed both you and that man on the spot. But here he is, trying to convince you to stray away from your boytoy.

"But i love him. And he belongs wholly to me. I can see that in his eyes, when i speak to him. He wants to belong to me."

Love? A silly thing. Oh, but maybe that's what sukuna himself is doing to you right now. Loving you. This won't do. Now that he's realised, it's only more reason for him to separate you from the lowlife.

He spends months with you, having you attached to his hip at all times. Not letting you get a glimpse of your little plaything for a while. He pulls on your strings, and seduces you, making sure to confuse and muddle up your feelings, on who you should direct your affection towards. There is only one correct answer.

And when he feels like you're ready, just trained enough to act within his predictions, he brings you over to meet that man once again. To make you kill him with your own hands. Press on his windpipe and watch the life drain out his eyes. Cast away whatever interest you had in him prior.

The man is begging you for mercy, your hands wrapped around his throat, sukuna holding his weak, flimsy body up. His other pair of hands are guiding yours, but not applying any extra pressure. He wants you to do it with your own strength, alone. But he sees you hesitating. It pushes sukuna over the edge, and he does something unthinkable, impulsive.

He makes a promise. A binding vow, no less.

"Kill this man, and I'll be yours forever. Suffocate him to death, and I'll belong to you, the way you belong to me."

You want someone to possess-- and have whole to yourself? You want someone to desire it? Desire you? He'll take that spot. He can fulfill that for you. Nobody but him.

And he continues whispering sweet nothings into your ear from behind, leaving a couple of kisses down your neck, every action coaxing you to grip his throat tighter.

Sukuna groans when eventually the man takes his last breath, with tears in his lifeless eyes, regretful of having ever associated with you. Your hands are steady, and you don't show signs of guilt. You've taken countless lives before. But this one has significant meaning. Marking the beginning of something more important between you and sukuna.

The vow is effective immediately. Something in sukuna is stirring up his guts, but in a pleasantly exciting way. Heat gathers in his lower abdomen, and he drops the now useless body to embrace you instead, and take your lips in his.

This feeling is wonderful. To love, and be loved. You strangled someone dear to you for him, because you wanted him more, and sukuna couldn't be happier.

[featherandferns]

my thoughts on the rudy/madison discourse and obx 4 generally (spoilers):

I watch obx 4 for the characters. I appreciate the actors, find their behind the scenes moments entertaining at times, and indulge in the occasional interview or Instagram post, but I do not 'follow' the actors. My fanfics are about JJ Maybank as a character, not Rudy Pankow. I appreciate Rudy Pankow's attraction, especially when playing JJ's character, but writing fanfic about Rudy himself (or any other actor) is, for me, uncomfortable. That isn't to shame anybody who does write or read such content, it just makes me personally feel uncomfortable.

All this to say: I don't care about the drama. I don't care about why Rudy left the show, whether this was his decision or the writer's. I think Rudy's girlfriend seems lovely, but I am highly aware neither myself nor anybody else knows her. Rudy is a grown man. He's in his twenties. He can decide who he does and does not want to date, and who he does and does not want to spend his time with, both on and off set. An Instagram post Rudy made on his story on Canadian Thanksgiving I think summed it up perfectly: he loves his girlfriend, and if people can't get behind that, then get out.

Furthermore, Madison and Rudy do not owe anybody anything. I don't find interest or want to engage in the toxic debate of the 'he said, she said'. They're all adults, they all have their own lives, this is all between them. The speculation and pressure from fans is cruel and uncalled for. They don't owe anybody insight into their private lives. Maybe they aren't friends anymore - that's okay! People drift apart, people fall out. Yes, it's sad to see the change from season 1 in terms of dynamics, but a lot can happen behind the scenes. That's life! Also, I don't like the comparison between Rudy and Madison, and Madison and Chase. People saying 'but the actual ex-couple can work together fine' are forgetting that every situation is different! I had an ex-boyfriend at an old job; I was pissed at him for a few months but civil at work, and then I got over it and he apologised and we became actual friends about a year after the break-up. However, I have other ex-friends and ex-lovers who I could not ever tolerate or be near, and I can't imagine what it would have been like having to work with them after a falling out. If this is the case for Rudy and Madison, that's a really tough thing to navigate! Give them grace - yes they're actors, but they're humans too! The bottom line is: it's their life, leave them alone.

Following on from that, stop placing blame! We don't know why Rudy left the show. There's all different opinions and sources about who said what, who did what, who is the 'bad guy'. Nobody knows the truth but the three involved and, as I said before, they owe this to nobody to disclose.

I think Rudy leaving the show, whilst sad, is a fair decision. OBX began filming in 2019. You do a lot of growing from there and, especially with changes in writing, you can want a change. I think actors can sometimes be too tethered to their characters and it limits their future work abilities, because nobody can picture them as anything other than that character. You can still have successful careers because of this (think Camila Mendes and Riverdale; Matt Le Blanc and Friends; Ellen Pompeo and Meredith Grey), but Rudy clearly wants to explore other areas and other characters, like theatre and Indie movies. Good for him! We should support him! I don't love this 'I'm sorry we couldn't save you from your actor, JJ' stuff, because Rudy gave his heart and soul to that character and that performance. He doesn't deserve to be punished because he craves a change. It's the same as any other job/career; we all want a change sometimes.

The writers and show creators have been getting a lot of backlash too. Here's my thoughts on season 4: was it their best season? No. Did it do some of the other seasons and previous plotlines/character development justice? No. Did JJ have to die? Not necessarily. However, it is easy to lose sight of the small picture when you have increased demand and increased budgets. Netflix like 'bigger and better'. When people are given more creative freedom, sometimes things can veer off course. We can forget the original character motivations, dreams and desires by getting caught up in the spectacle. The only show I've ever seen that really keeps the characters true and consistent, whilst developing, and never forgetting a plot point, is Bojack Horseman. To me, that is the only show. It's a shame, yes, that it veered so far from season 1's aesthetic, but that's how it is.

As a fellow creator, I feel it's cruel sending so much blatant hate to the writers and creators for making the show. If Rudy did want to leave, they had to find a way to make this work for JJ. Yes, I've seen some say 'he didn't have to die' but I sort of disagree. JJ is too loyal and attached to his friends to just 'go off' on his own to somewhere else. That would also be out of character. I think the way he died, and the build-up and plot points that didn't get resolved prior to his death, is a little annoying. I don't like how it wasn't in Kildare, in his home, and in a different country. But hey - that's just me.

I know, that if I took so much time and energy and money, working and building something that I am proud of just, just to receive so much black-and-white hate, I'd be crushed. Constructive criticisms and opinions are good - we can be upset about a character dying - but saying 'fuck you' and 'we hate you' is a bit mean, in my opinion. The time and energy and work gone into this season is astounding. The travelling and set design is incredible! I mean, the shop is the most awesome thing I've ever seen!

I also respect that they killed JJ. I'm not saying I wanted him to die. I'm saying, it pisses me off when shows give plot-armour to the main characters. It lowers the stakes. You know they're going to be fine because they're always fine (think the majority of Stranger Things - there's a really good video essay about that here btw that articulates this point a bit better). JJ's death was shocking and upsetting, that's how a death (in a show, at least) should be, but it means hey, there are real stakes here. It's not fair he died! He didn't deserve to die! But he did, oh my God. It takes guts to kill of a beloved, main character. I agree, JJ was my favourite part of the show, but I respect the choice, personally.

I liked season 4. It wasn't as good as season 1, I wish they stayed more grounded and didn't start so many plot points without resolving any/all of them, but I liked it. It was entertaining. The acting was pretty decent, though the chemistry and acting when Rudy and Madison had scenes together was a little disappointing (again, I don't want to point blame at a certain individual; it's hard to have good on-screen chemistry, especially when you don't feel like it matches your character's true motivations).

Was it unrealistic at times? Yes, but OBX usually is haha. It's a show about finding EL DORADO at this point, like I can accept that they let Sarah and JJ get swept into the sea during a storm and come out fine, without a single earring out of place. Sure, whatever, I'll take it (so unrealistic, 90% would drown and you'd at least shed your clothes to help you swim and stay afloat but WHATEVER. Also put your life jackets on guys wtf it's a STORM).

I wish there was more development on the plots, done by having less plots at once, and more conclusions for JJ before his death. I felt as though we were building up to a big blow-out/resolution with Pogues which never really came. Also, don't love how they handled JJ and his biological dad. I don't think he'd be that willing to trust a random man who abandoned him so easy. Yes, he's reluctant, but COME ON. JJ has the biggest trust issues. I just don't buy it. Also, explain, please, how Luke went from being so wonderful and gentle with JJ to full on abusive? Just a bit of explanation would be nice, please. Not a huge fan of the pregnancy plotline but hey, sure, whatever.

So, yes, that's my thoughts on everything: leave the actors alone; the writers have balls for killing JJ but that isn't necessarily a bad thing; give people grace; treat people with kindness; I'm going to keep writing for JJ; and season 4 altogether gets a 6/10 from me.

I'm open to different opinions, further thoughts, or just general musings/ideas. I hope this doesn't upset or offend anyone, I'm not trying to spark drama or shame a certain person or people: these are just my thoughts and views! So, I won't be participating in any 'who's the bad guy' discourse surrounding the actors. I'm just here for JJ and the Pogues. Take care of yourselves and spread positivity in this crazy, difficult time <3 and, of course, rest in peace, JJ Maybank <3

P.S. These are my season-by-season ratings: season 1 - 10/10; season 2 - 8/10; season 3 - 6/10; season 4 - 6/10.

[dakota1435]

Moonlight – Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 2K (short)

tags: mention of violence

previous chapters here! x

Chapter 8

You don’t dare to draw a single breath. Those who were originally looking now turned away, knowing this was Sylus’ business now. For a second, it felt like time was frozen. Nobody moves, even Sylus. Caleb was going to get himself killed, all because he came to ‘save’ you. You still didn’t understand how he knew you’d be here, with Sylus. How he even knew somebody like Sylus in the first place. You exhale shakily, trying to calm your nerves. Your lips part, about to speak, before Caleb inserts himself. Not good!

“What have you done to her?” There’s emphasis on each word, through gritted teeth. Never in your life have you seen this side of Caleb. Despite Sylus’ overwhelming presence, Caleb doesn’t back down on his death glare.

“To think someone like you came all the way here…You must have quite the confidence to take what’s mine?” Sylus said, his voice calm and collected. You could feel the pressure of his hand on you tighten a bit. Internally, he must be seething. 

“She’s not yours!” Caleb yelled back, uncaring for the situation unfolding. You had to say something, you had to get him out of here. Out of every possible outcome, it would be the best course of action. Caleb looks at you, hesitant. 

“Um…Caleb…Please. You should leave,” you beckoned, your hands shaking by your side. Your voice doesn’t feel as strong as theirs. Clearing your throat, you speak again. “Caleb. I’ve been safe. I promise.” You hope he takes you seriously. He looks at you, astonished, before returning to the same angered expression. 

“He’s brainwashed you! He’s bit you, hasn't he? After all these years of protecting you, I am not going to give up. He’s been trying to find you this whole time.” Caleb doesn’t give you a chance to react before he speaks again. “He’s a monster. He’s trying to turn you into a monster, too. Listen, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I haven’t told you. But trust me when I say–”

“You have a lot of nerve to stand in front of me. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of her. I suggest you leave, now, before I do something about it,” Sylus warned Caleb, his grasp feeling tighter on you. Oh, he was definitely angry now. Caleb’s words ring in your head, making you question too many things. But no matter how it made you dizzy, you had to do damage control now before there was bloodshed. Seeing how Caleb is now, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to fight Sylus. Worst of all, you knew Sylus would win against a human within the blink of an eye. 

“Stop!” You called out, the first thing you could think of. You turn to look back at Sylus. His eyes glared and his expression troubled. “Let’s leave,” you muttered to him. Your face pleaded you didn’t want to experience another moment of this. Even if it meant leaving Caleb, again. Forever, this time you’re sure. It broke your heart, but there was nothing else that could be done. Caleb heard your words, his mouth open with shock. He doesn’t say anything. Sylus calms himself at your words, removing his hand on you. 

“Very well,” he said, his voice rather curt. He leans down close to your ear, his eyes still burning onto Caleb. “Hold tight.” He wraps his hand around your waist. You spare Caleb another look before Sylus takes you, vanishing within a second. 

For a moment, you thought you saw Caleb reach out. It was too late. 

As quick as disappearing, you and Sylus arrive back at his estate with ease. But the event, the entirety of tonight, made you feel sick. You hunch over, for fear of actually getting sick. Your mind and everything around you spins uncontrollably. How? Why? Why?

“Sylus…” You began speaking. A part of you was afraid to meet his eyes. Was he angry? Did he think you knew about Caleb coming? Your mind suddenly recalled Caleb’s words; he’s been looking for you. 

He rests his heavy hand onto your back. It felt…supportive. “It seems I can’t let this kitten out of my sight,” he said, his tone amused. You were relieved he didn’t sound angry anymore, but it still didn’t put you at ease. Your dress was uncomfortable now, your jewelry feeling heavy. The choker around your neck felt suffocating. When you didn't respond immediately, Sylus spoke again. “Are you hurt?” 

“No…I just…I don’t understand anything right now,” you said quietly. Your face flushes with heat and suddenly you feel like you could cry. You couldn’t recognize your own emotions and it made you feel like a foreigner in your own body. You still don’t look at Sylus, hesitant to show him such raw emotion. You begin to walk away, expecting Sylus to stop you. But he doesn’t, instead he watches you go to your room. You change, the weight of tonight’s clothes bearing the turmoil of what happened. Slipping into something more loose and comfortable, you decide you will ask Sylus your questions. You leave the room and expect Sylus to be in his dining room. As you walk, you try to gather the questions in your head. You won’t let him be vague this time, because there’s something definitely going on. 

You push open the heavy doors of the room, finding Sylus gazing out of his massive window. He couldn’t be more beautiful in the moonlight, but he doesn’t turn at your arrival.

“We need to talk,” you said with newfound confidence. You needed answers. Your heart raced, never speaking to Sylus in this way before. 

“Oh? What about?” He still stared at the window. You figured he was still irritated over Caleb. You sigh, walking over to him as he sits in his large leather chair. He glances up at you, something playful in his face flickers for a moment. He liked seeing you stand before him. 

“I need answers. Caleb said you have been looking for me forever. I asked you if you were the reason I was put up at auction and you said no!” Your voice raises, frustration bubbling inside of you. Whatever feelings you had that you buried were now coming alive. You didn’t like it, you didn’t feel like yourself. Sylus cocks an eyebrow, surprised at your energy. 

“I don’t lie like mortals do,” he sneered, “I have been looking for you, yes. I only found you because of the auction. I had no part in any of it.” He still stares at you from his chair, watching you unfold. That familiar feeling of pressure forms in your face again, tears urging in your eyes. It was almost equally embarrassing and frustrating. 

“How does Caleb know you?” You clenched your fists, trying to control your emotions. 

“I don’t know him personally. I know he’s been with you since you were a child. My name is everywhere, though. It does not surprise me,” he said, matter-of-fact. He was starting to be vague again, the one thing you were not going to let him do. He notices your hand tightly closed and gently touches your hand with the back of his fingers. You started to question everything, you backed away from his touch. He didn’t like that. “I was going to ease you into things, but it looks like that man ruined it,” he said, sounding disgusted. He waits for your reaction for a second, then grabs your wrist. “Sit. You will want to sit for this.” You don’t protest as he pulls you into his lap. You adjust, sitting comfortably. He strokes your cheek, tenderly, as if to prepare for what’s to come. 

“He is right; I have been looking for you. He’s done a very good job at hiding you, until recently.” Sylus hold on you is possessive. He speaks slowly, letting each word sink into your mind. “That man was against your former profession, wasn’t he? He could no longer keep you away. You’ve wanted to know the unknown, haven’t you?” Sylus was right. Caleb was like your brother, but easily overbearing. When you took on your new job, going on missions, he was unsupportive. Little did you know that Caleb knew Sylus would get 

you. 

“Why…” is all you could mutter out. Your life from the start felt like a lie, and you weren’t sure what to believe. Your eyes said it all. 

Sylus wears a troubled expression. “I don’t expect you to believe me. Trust me when I say I do not lie.” He takes a breath, making you nervous. “Long ago, there was an experimental research factory. They discovered aether cores and used human subjects, as young as five.” 

          He pauses, his words slow and concise. Your stomach churns, as your brain tries to fill in the gaps.

        “I was one of their subjects. They were cruel, and inhumane. They wanted to create a human with power, strength. Countless humans died and I happened to be the one to survive. I came out, exceeding their expectations. They made me an artificial vampire, whether that was their only goal or not, I survived.” The silence after his words were heavy, almost deafening. You continued to listen as hearing Sylus speak of himself was rare. “I was unstable, uncontrollable. I escaped, leaving myself to the horrors of the new world. The organization of vampires knew about these experiments—them being heavily against it. They found me and made me who I am today.”

“What about the research facility?” You questioned. Your mind thought about all of the possible pain and torture Sylus went through, at such a young age too. 

“Nobody, including myself, would predict my capabilities. I was stronger than a human, yes, but found myself to be more powerful than a pureblooded vampire. I took that power and ascended. I returned to the facility, knowing they still continued with their research. I single handedly killed every member of that facility and burned their notes.” Sylus stares at his fingertips, as if reminiscing the blood stains. “There were only a few human subjects this time. Two of them were beyond saving, but there was one human left; you.” He gently touches your side, his comfort minimal but it kept you in reality. 

Upon hearing this, you couldn’t believe it but deep down in your gut you knew Sylus was telling the truth. If you were standing, your knees would’ve fallen weak. You run your hands through your face and hair, making sure you are still real. That, all of your entire life, was real. When Sylus stopped speaking, you could hear your heartbeat drum in your ears. You could tell Sylus was still trying to ease you into it all, trying not to overwhelm you, but you were already at that point. 

“…Tell me everything,” you said, voice muffled as you lay your face in your hands. 

“You were the youngest subject they ever had; you were born with an aethor core inside of you. You grew up in the lab healthy, alive. It seemed that you weren’t displaying any change but before I did anything, the lab was raided by government officials. I withdrew, immediately knowing you would be taken somewhere better,” he explained. He clenches his jaw as his eyes burn into yours. 

Your world was cracking around you and you felt heavy with confusion. Your brain tried remembering a shred of anything, any form of memory or feeling of being at a lab. You were raised by your grandmother until she passed, and your older childhood friend Caleb was around after that. How could it be possible? The same thing that created Sylus was buried in you, somewhere. The same thing that made him desire blood and crush anything in his way. The thought of all of it made you tremble out of fear and anxiety. 

“...You have been monitored by government officials your whole life. They feared I would come back to finish you off, but I have been searching for you because we are the same. I want to show you the potential you have, not those selfish fools.” Sylus strokes his hand down your hair tenderly and his actions ground you to reality.

Everything is falling out from your feet, your brain scattered with anxious thoughts– answers you’ll never know. It’s too much, too much, too much.

We are the same.

[coff-in]

YES! I SEE YOU’RE DOING AND TAKING REQS AGAIN!!!

Reader who is constantly zoning out 25/8 head cannons. Doesn’t matter if they’re eating, drinking, bathing, walking or working; they’re always daydreaming in their head. Constantly running into things or tripping because they’re too preoccupied in their head. They daydream a lot to where sometimes they reenact their thoughts or speak to nobody in particular. Their S/O always has to bring them back or navigate them so they don’t accidentally hurt themselves.

Reader can be G/N, or female if it’s necessary for a gender. I’d like Andrew to be the S/O, but you can throw Ashley in the mix too (separately or together) if you want. I won’t throw shade.

TYYYYY!!!!

notes from coff-in: i've been meaning to answer the asks in my inbox for weeks now, but every time i tell myself 'i should answer asks' i suddenly find myself not doing it. like the more i think about doing something the longer it takes for me to do it. eventually i just sort of stop thinking about it and get focused on other work and then open my inbox and go 'yeah i'll answer these now :)' like i haven't been gone for a month or so. is this normal? the same thing happens when i think about soaking my mushroom log or taking my pills or even when i was younger and had to wear my retainer, i think 'i'll do it later' and then i never do it. i'll think 'i should do it sometime today' and then i never do it. why do i do that? sorry about that, in other news: i have started playing roblox and i like sebastian solace from pressure. big fish :3

[gender neutral] reader-insert

[reader] is so me fr fr. 'maladaptive daydreaming' you mean... uh normal behavior... gottem. i appreciate that you said 's/o' because i've been meaning to write for julia for a while (hussies unite or smth).

andrew would find [reader]'s daydreaming endearing, but would see it as a hassle to deal with often. he's constantly nudging you and gently shaking you to get your attention. he'd also tease you about running into objects and scold you for not paying attention. protective instincts kinda kick in for him :') he does wish you paid more attention to your surroundings and school ("i'm not going to be able to help you with your homework forever," he tells you while doing your homework)

ashley would definitely be annoyed. you should be paying attention to her! she's YOUR girlfriend, asshole! you would need to repeatedly (hourly, even) tell her that you do love her, you are trying to pay attention to her, etc etc. i don't think a maladaptive daydreamer would pair all too well with ashley. maybe.... she would feel comforted that you sorta act the same with others, spaced out and unfocused, but there's always that worry in her that someone else will snap you out of your haze and take your attention away. hang out with ashley, she's just a girl who's fun and whimsical, give her all your attention. do it. DO IT-- (she will laugh at you if you trip on something)

julia :3 i think julia wouldn't mind [reader] constantly zoning out. julia is (as far as we've seen, mind you!!) such a sweet and gentle girl, i honestly think you and her would work out very well. she's gemtly holding your arm or hand and swerving you away from poles and potholes. she taps you so you can focus on your work and if you wanna veg out next to her, she doesn't mind that. love that emo girl

----

coff-in

is it a certified coff-in post if i don't rant/vent in the opening notes? anyways please ask me about my opinions on pressure, it's infecting my brain :3

[swanshapedheart]

Poorlittlekoi’s statement

Disclaimer. I, the poster, am not Koi

I am someone putting her thoughts and response to her situation into the public as I was encouraged to do so. I feel it is also necessary to bring this up as well.

I do not want to be affiliated with controversy any further.

——————————————————-

“this whole situation has messed with my head to the point where i cant even send a text to most people without worrying they are gonna leak it or use it against me in the future,, svlvnsore was just bored and found me really annoying shown in screenshot one…. not only that they also called me out for heavily referencing or tracing when they reposted an artpiece thats doing the same thing. Svlvn said they are on my ass because i didnt credit who i referenced, when the person they reposted didnt do the same either proof in screenshot two three and four. Another thing i caught on to is that they SPECIFICALLY said they didnt care that i self harmed or did horrible things to myself when they posted about me. i have anxiety, i overthink! of course im going to do bad things to myself, im mentally unwell. proof in screenshot 5… and for screenshot 6, this is only an assumption, but saying that svlvn "didnt know" is something that really throws me off. when someone makes a callout post on someone else, there will OBVIOUSLY be harassment. thats just my thought, i feel like they knew what they were doing since him and his bf arent very good people either. especially holding onto old dms and gathering them up to use it against me, when they could have handled the situation privately with me, rather than hide it behind my back.

all of this could have been prevented if they handled it differently, and that goes for me as well.

im fully aware im in the wrong, but these people are wrong in some places too. and i want people to realize that.

many artists in tcc trace, reference, all the time. i dont understand why im slandered for heavily referencing something, not tracing. theres proof of an artist doing this FROM THE ORIGINAL ARTIST BTW in my dms right now but i dont get them involved

am i handling this situation immaturely? maybe, but arent they doing the same by harassing me? absolutely.

when it comes to someone being racist/homophobic, people feel the need to harass this person to make them feel worse about what they did. this isnt how you handle a situation. harassing someone to the point they attempt suicide is just as bad as what i did, possibly even worse.

now i have recover slowly until i have the chance to even feel comfortable with myself again. i understand what i said and did was wrong, and im sitting here attempting to change and apologize to the people ive offended and hurt, but throwing that apology under the rug and making it seem like im guilt tripping is ridiculous.

so they cant say i didnt try to apologize, but nobody is guaranteed to accept my apology and thats okay. but putting it out there as if im guilt tripping when im giving reasons why i said it is not even giving me a chance to change

when it comes to growing up with a HUGE racist family, these words and beliefs become apart of my vocabulary and thoughts. its very hard to change that especially when i was always told "its just a word" and i hear it daily! growing up with these slurs has become so normal for me to say it just slips out with no worry, but ofc im seen as guilt tripping when i say this.

its different for each person, i saw a comment saying they grew up in a southern family and they dont say it, but thats them, not me.

people at school and during family events would peer pressure me into saying this slurs multiple times because they found it "funny." i slowly believed that as well.

i was a young teen being taught the wrong things, and seeing other people in tcc say it made me feel like i should say it as well to fit in and be edgy, since thats what the community is like

this situation is another lesson for me to learn, but other people in it need to learn that harassing someone isnt okay, either. especially when im trying to change, it doesnt make it any easier.”

[velvetdesir3s]

In his wake, chapter 1: Between the stacks (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: After spending a long night at the library, studying, you expect to leave without any issues. That’s until, you spot Roman in parking lot.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author's note: Hiii!! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, have a lot plans for this series so stay tuned 😇

There were few places in Hemlock Grove that felt like mine, but the library came close.

It wasn’t perfect—the lighting was too harsh, and the dust of old books clung to the air like second skin— but it was quiet. And quiet was rare around here.

I’d staked my claim at my usual table, tucked away in the back, hidden between the classics section and a perpetually broken vending machine. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine. Out of sight. Away from the windows. Away from the noise. People.

The vending machine was a lifeline, even if it only ever gave me honeybuns or the occasional bag of stale chips. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t complaining. It was the one thing I could count on to be consistent.

The problem with people in Hemlock Grove wasn’t just that everyone knew everyone—it was that they thought they knew you. Your family. Your story. Your future. They all had their theories, their judgments. And after last year, I’d learned the hard way that none of them were worth listening to.

So, I came here, where I could hide behind stacks of textbooks and pretend the world didn’t exist, even if just for a few hours.

I was halfway through highlighting yet another page of my AP Chemistry notes when my phone buzzed. A text from Lily popped up, and for a moment, I let the noise of the world fade.

Lils: How’s library life? Bet you’re drowning in notes.

I glanced at the clock. It was already past 10, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

Me: Drowning is an understatement. Why did I think AP Chem was a good idea again?

Lils: Because you’re a nerd. Also, you can’t hide forever. You should come out soon.

I snorted quietly.

Me: Tempting, but I’ve still got Callahan to impress.

Lils: Callahan hates everyone. Also, you’re way too cute to spend your life hiding in libraries. Come on, you need a break.

Me: Flattery gets you nowhere. Go sleep, loser.

Lily’s texts were a welcome distraction. She knew me better than anyone, probably because she understood the pressure I always put on myself. She was the life of the party, always dragging me into things I didn’t want to do, but never pushing too far. With her, I didn’t have to be perfect and that was one of the many reasons why I loved this girl to death.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the clock again. It was too late to be thinking about my next move—yet here I was, stuck in this never-ending cycle of doing what I was supposed to do. I took a deep breath, ready to dive back into the chaos of chemistry.

It never has failed to surprise me how safe this library has made me feel, I’ve always thought it was because of the quiet—the absence of voices, the hum of fluorescent lights, the rhythmic scratching of pens on paper. But honestly, I think it’s because nobody else bothers to be there. There’s no distractions. No expectations.

And for that I’m thankful since no one needs to see me panic now that I’ve realized I’ve been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes without absorbing a single word.

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath, dragging my hands down my face. “Get it together.”

I tapped my pen against the edge of my notebook, glancing at the clock. 10:27 PM. The library technically closed at 11, but everyone else had cleared out hours ago. The only sounds were the occasional creak of the building settling and the faint buzz of the vending machine near the entrance.

The pile of notes in front of me looked insurmountable, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. Between my chem midterm and the essay I’d been putting off all week, I was one meltdown away from pitching a tent in this place.

I groaned in frustration, unable to focus any longer. After a few minutes, I gave in and decided it was time to head home. With a sigh, I shut my book and tucked my phone into my bag before gathering my things. Standing up, I left my spot behind.

I waved goodbye to the librarian, Mrs. Hawthorne, who was familiar with my late-night study sessions. I always appreciated that she checked up on me a few times, and other times we’d gossip about stuff we’d heard around. She was like a mother to me, and I could only hope to repay her kindness someday.

She returned the gesture with a warm smile. “Get home safe,” she said softly, her voice as steady and comforting as ever.

As I stepped out of the library and into the quiet hallway, the stillness felt oddly eerie—though I knew it was just because it was so late. The click of my heels echoed too loudly in the silence, each sound ricocheting off the walls and amplifying the emptiness. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of the air conditioning stuttered, breaking the quiet for only a moment before settling back into its low drone.

A cold draft brushed past me, raising goosebumps on my arms. It wasn’t enough to make me shiver, but it still felt out of place, as if it didn’t belong here. I glanced back toward the library door, half-expecting to see Mrs. Hawthorne still there. But the door was shut, and the faint lavender scent she always seemed to carry was already gone.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, one of them flickering just enough to cast the shadows into restless movement. My footsteps quickened, not because I was scared—at least that’s what I told myself—but because the hallway felt too long, too empty.

As I pushed open the heavy doors, the cold night air hit me like a warning, sharp and biting. It prickled the skin on the back of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, my steps quick as I descended the concrete stairs. My only goal was to make it safely to my car in the mostly empty parking lot.

Nights like this always creeped me the hell out.

I kept my head down, the rhythmic scuff of my shoes against the pavement the only sound accompanying me. But as I reached the far end of the lot, I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—out of the corner of my eye.

Roman Godfrey.

He was leaning against the hood of his 1957 cherry-red Jaguar, the faint orange glow of his cigarette casting fleeting shadows over his face. The rest of him was swallowed by the dim light of a nearby lamppost, but I recognized him instantly. His height, his posture—he wasn’t exactly a common sight around here.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I stood there, watching him from a distance. He didn’t move. He didn’t have to.

I didn’t know Roman personally; all I knew about him was that he wasn’t just any guy. Aside from the fact that he was the heir to a billion-dollar business and basically your textbook definition of a stereotypical playboy, he was the kind of guy who made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. The kind of guy who could either ruin your life or make it feel like you were finally living. And after the way things went last year for me, I wasn’t ready for any of it. The last thing I needed was to get involved with someone like him. But in Hemlock Grove, the things you try to avoid have a way of finding you anyway.

I shifted my bag on my shoulder, pretending not to notice him, though the weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore. Even from across the lot, it felt like he was daring me to look back.

When his voice cut through the silence, it startled me.

“Isn’t it a little late for a girl like you to be out here?” His tone was smooth, almost too casual, as if we were picking up a conversation from years ago. The glowing ember of his cigarette flickered in the dark, briefly illuminating his face and sharpening the angles of his jaw.

I never thought I’d speak to Roman again. The first time he ever talked to me was back in ninth grade. We were in the same math class, and there was a test that day. I guess he hadn’t studied, because he kept pestering me for the answers. At the time, it seemed harmless, so I gave in. But after he took them without so much as a thanks, like it meant nothing, it left a sour taste in my mouth.

Still, that was years ago—just a stupid test. Nothing worth holding onto.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, schooling my expression into something indifferent, though my pulse quickened. “Is that so? I didn’t realize there was a curfew for girls like me.”

Roman tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow arched. His lips curled into a smile that was just a little too self-assured. “Touché.”

His eyes stayed on me as if waiting for me to break the silence, and there was something about the way he held himself, the easy confidence in his posture, that made the whole situation feel like a game I wasn’t sure I wanted to play. I knew he was an arrogant prick, sure. But seeing it first hand was a whole other experience, and I wasn’t about to be his next victim.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his words thick with an almost teasing tone, as if he knew I was trying to make a quick exit.

“Um, home, actually,” I replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—which, honestly, it was. Not all of us have the luxury of bouncing from one party to the next without a care in the world. Some of us actually have to study or work to get by. Must be nice to have a trust fund waiting for you at the finish line. Privileged kids really do have it all, huh?

Roman’s lips curled into a half-smirk as he took another drag of his cigarette, the ember glowing brighter in the darkness.

“Home, huh?” He grinned, dragging on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. “How… charming.”

I shrugged, keeping my tone flat. “I guess so.”

He let the words hang in the air before tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as if sizing me up. “What’s your name?”

My brows knitted together, surprise flickering across my face. Did he really not remember me? We’d been in the same classes since middle school, and while I wasn’t exactly Miss Popular, I hadn’t thought I was that insignificant.

“You’re kidding, right?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it stretched wider, like my confusion was the most amusing thing he’d heard all night.

“No,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “I’m not.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his gaze making it hard to think straight. I shouldn’t take this personally. Of course, Roman Godfrey wouldn’t remember who I was. That’s just who he is. Still, it stung more than I expected. These feelings of needing his approval were strange, out of character for me. What was wrong with me? Finally, I spoke, my voice calm. “Maybe it’s best if we keep it that way.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and popped the trunk, ready to toss my bag inside. But before I did, I made sure to pull my phone out of my purse—god knows what this weirdo might pull. The metallic clink of the latch echoed in the quiet, and I let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

I turned to head for the driver’s seat, but when I saw him standing there, close enough that I couldn’t have missed him before, I jumped. I hadn’t heard him approach.

I put a hand on my chest, taking a deep breath to calm the shock I just experienced. “You really know how to move without a sound,” I muttered, more out of surprise than anything else. It wasn’t fear, exactly—but there was something unsettling about how he’d just… appeared like that. It felt almost inhuman. Roman was definitely… different.

His lips curled into a half-smirk, and he straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the side of my car. “What can I say? I love making an impression,” he said smoothly, the edge of amusement in his voice.

I tried not to show how much his sudden presence threw me off. “Not sure I’d call it a good one,” I replied, my voice steady enough, though my heart rate had sped up without me even realizing it.

Roman chuckled, stepping closer with deliberate intent. Damn, he seemed even taller up close. And those eyes… people always talk about how striking they are, but seeing them in person? It’s a whole different experience. Even in the dim light, they seem to glow, that mesmerizing shade of green unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I took a step back, trying not to look too eager. “You’re not a fan of surprises, huh? Mystery girl?” he said, his gaze lingering on my face, as if he were trying to read me.

I stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t want to admit it, but something about Roman’s presence unsettled me. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. Not in the way he moved, or how he seemed to read me without trying. It was like he could see right through my defenses, and that made me wary.

“Surprises aren’t really my thing,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice level, but the way his eyes lingered on mine made me feel like I was already saying too much.

Roman’s smirk deepened, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he liked my answer or because he found my hesitation amusing. “Guess we’re opposites, then,” he said, taking another step closer. He leaned in just enough to make me feel his presence more acutely, but not so much that it was overtly threatening. He wasn’t invading my space—at least not yet—but it felt like he was testing the boundaries.

I felt my pulse quicken despite myself. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here, exchanging words with Roman Godfrey like it was some normal, casual conversation. “Maybe,” I said, keeping my tone cool. “I don’t need a memorable impression to know what kind of person you are.”

Roman’s eyes darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing across his face. He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “You think you know me already?” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Trust me, you don’t. What you’ve heard about me… it’s barely the tip of the iceberg.” He paused, his grin slowly spreading. “But believe me, you’ll want to.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “And why would I want that?”

He took a slow step forward, his gaze intense and unwavering, like he was sizing me up. His voice was low, dripping with a quiet confidence that sent a shiver down my spine. Before he answered, he took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Sooner or later, you won’t stay away,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll find yourself wanting to know what it’s like—what I’m like. And trust me, I’m not the kind of guy you forget.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine, his words lingering in the cool night air. I watched as he brought his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling and exhaling the smoke upward.

“You’ll want to see me again,” he added with a playful gleam in his eyes. “There’s a party tomorrow night at my house. The Godfrey mansion. There’ll be a few people, a little chaos. You should come. Maybe you’ll tell me your name then.”

I hesitated. A party? Roman Godfrey was inviting me? The idea felt strange, but then again, so did everything about this interaction.

“Not really my scene,” I said, but it sounded weaker than I intended.

Roman grinned again, harder this time, as if he’d expected that response. “Of course it’s not,” he said with a knowing glint in his eyes. “But that’s what makes it interesting. You might just surprise yourself.”

I could feel the pull of his words, the way his confidence seemed to sink into my skin. I wanted to refuse, to walk away and forget this whole interaction. But there was something in the air—something magnetic about the way he was looking at me.

“Think about it,” he said, his voice low, almost coaxing. “You won’t regret it.”

I looked away, trying to steady myself, my breath a little shaky. The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell him I’d think about it, but before I could say anything, he was already walking away, heading back to his car.

Staring at the ground, my thoughts raced, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Why was he so persistent? Why was he acting like I was someone worth chasing? I wasn’t stupid—I knew exactly what he was offering, or at least I thought I did. A night at his party, a chance to be close to him. And for some crazy reason, the idea of being around him was oddly tempting. Maybe it was the mystery of it all, or the way he seemed to see through me, but it pulled at me.

But then, my mind kicked into gear. I didn’t trust him. People like him didn’t do things without expecting something in return. He wasn’t the kind of guy who gave away favors or invitations without a price tag. And with his reputation, I could already guess what he was probably expecting. A flirtation, a conquest, something to add to his list of trophies. I wasn’t just another girl he’d try to charm; I was just another opportunity for him to take advantage of.

I tried to ignore the part of me that still wondered what it would be like to walk into that party, to feel that dangerous, electric pull between us. It was a bad idea. It had to be.

And yet, despite all the logical reasons to walk away, my gaze flickered back to the parking lot. Half-expecting him to still be there, watching me. But he was gone.

I felt a tightness in my chest that I couldn’t shake, something that kept me rooted to the spot. I took a hesitant step toward my car, ready to leave. But I couldn’t quite get the feeling out of my head. I wasn’t done with him yet. There was something unfinished about this encounter. It wasn’t over. And despite every instinct telling me to stay away, I couldn’t completely ignore the nagging feeling that if I went, I wouldn’t be leaving that party alone.

And worse—what if he got exactly what he wanted from me? I had a sinking feeling that whatever he wanted, he’d take. I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out what that meant.

I opened the door to my car and slid inside. With my phone in hand, I powered it on and searched for Lily’s contact. Once I found it, I clicked the dial button, bringing the phone to my ear. I felt the vibrations of the rings against my cheek.

“Hello?”

“We need to talk.”

[deepcollectionredbird]

Lina and Geoff have been nicknamed the “Role Model Couple” by their close friends and family members. From high school sweethearts to being practically married… even without rings on their fingers… their relationship is a shining example of what young love should be. Having been solely committed to one another since their sophomore year, they’ve endured so much throughout the last decade... but, no matter how many petty disagreements they have, or how mundane and routine their romantic life may seem these days, they remain wholly dedicated to one another, and continue to look forward to their future together.

Lina loves Geoff with all of her heart, and trusts him with her life… and Geoff, after all this time of being with her, feels the same way. They’re soulmates… and yet, Geoff has been keeping a huge secret from her: he’s pregnant with someone else’s baby.

He has no idea how or when it happened… but, deep down, he knows that he’s been feeling suffocated by his relationship for a long time. It’s not that Lina has done anything wrong… but all of the pressure that other people put on them really gets to Geoff. Their parents always asking them when they’re going to get married, giving them rings and saying that its way past due. Their friends making jokes about them being each other’s ball and chain, treating them like a package deal and never as individuals. it’s all too much for him… and it’s made him resent Lina. He loves her more than anything else in the world, but there’s a part of him that wants some distance… and, a few months ago, when everything got to be too much, and he started cheating, just to feel free.

It didn’t matter who he slept with, or what they looked like. Geoff would just walk up to people on the street and ask them if they wanted to hookup… and, more often than not, he got an enthusiastic yes. He did everything—topped, bottomed, indulged in both men and women—and explored himself in ways that he never could’ve imagined. Now that he’s pregnant though, there’s no telling who the other parent of his baby might be, or where they are… but his and Lina’s friends and family are going to be over the moon when they learn that he’s pregnant, naturally assuming that the baby is hers. All he has to do is muster up the courage to tell everyone, if it’s not already obvious. What’s the harm in playing along if nobody gets hurt?