#also like i said i totally like spiralled when i read this because just thinking about dennis not knowing who he really is anymore

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:16 am]

(cw: course language)

Dating Jeno was like a dream. You knew it was early, 2 months to be exact, but you were fairly certain he was the best man ever. He was sweet, thoughtful, he listened, he was funny, and he was handsome. He took you on dates that you could tell he put effort into, he gave you gifts just because he was “thinking about you,” and got you flowers weekly. What wasn’t to like about him?

You had just seen him the night before, he had invited you over to his so he could cook for you. His excuse was that he’d been wanting to try out a recipe, but it was too much for one person. He’d listened to you talk all night about your annoying boss and how she went on and on about anything under the sun. She made it impossible to make or take calls with her roaming the floor and talking. She tried too hard to be friends with her employees.

He had had glimpses of her before when he came by to pick you up for lunch or picked you up from work. She was always the first one to the door, twirling her hair and batting her lashes. She tried flirting and didn’t even try to hide her frown when he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“And I saw that little boy toy of yours yesterday! He was out and about during lunch yesterday and we had lunch together! You’re not mad right? According to what I’ve heard he’s not your boyfriend yet…” you heard her annoying voice, but she wasn’t talking to you, right?

You turned in your desk chair, “are you talking to me?”

“Yes! Jeno, your little boy toy! He’s a real cutie, a real gentleman. I can totally see what’s so attractive about him. We sat and talked together and got carried away. I was almost late,” she laughs.

You give her a fake laugh, claiming you have work to get back to while turning to face the computer screen. Instead of working, you mull over her words. On one hand yes, you and Jeno weren’t official or exclusive in the fact that you hadn’t discussed it, but you had assumed you were. There was also the fact that when you asked him about his lunch he had been very short and moved on as if it were nothing.

Had there been signs that you missed before? Were there moments that they shared when you weren’t around? Were there hidden moments? God, this was putting you in a downward spiral.

She was still stood near you when you heard an unfamiliar male voice. “Uhhhh, flowers from Jeno?” He asked.

As you moved to identify yourself, your boss squealed, reaching for the flowers. She pulled the card from bouquet and began to read out loud, “I had the greatest time seeing you yesterday. I can’t wait to spend more time with you. Love, Jeno. He’s so sweet! So sorry you had to find out this way, but I need to go put these in some light. Get back to work.”

The rest of your day was awful. Maybe he had sent those to her. Maybe he liked her more than you. Maybe he was two-timing you.

From there your anger grew and grew. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His texts made your anger boil and bubble inside you to the point where once you saw him standing alone in the lobby of your workplace you walked right past him.

“Hey! Wait- hey, where are you going?” You heard Jeno’s voice as he followed after you.

You turned, your voice cold while your emotions were heated, “if you liked my boss you could have just said that instead of stringing me along. I know we never talked about being closed off, but at the very least I deserved to know you were seeing another person inside my office!”

He held his hands up, as if in surrender, “I don’t- I’m not seeing anyone but you. Can we talk about this?”

You groaned, running a had over your hair in frustration. You exhaled, calming your feelings, “my boss came in this morning and told me that you guys had lunch together. That you were such a gentleman and she totally gets what I see in you and that you spent the whole lunch talking and getting to know each other.” Your voice breaks as you keep explaining, “and then flowers were delivered that said you enjoyed your time with her yesterday. It’s just- I wish you had just told me.” You loon away from him as your eyes fill with tears and you desperately try to blink them back.

Jeno gives you your time to breathe and cool off before he speaks. “Babe, I didn’t get lunch with your boss. I happened to be at the same spot for lunch to pick up my order and while I was leaving she walked in. We did that whole awkward stepping the same way over and over again, and I greeted her just to be polite. I asked her how she was, but I didn’t have lunch with her. I don’t like her, she makes me feel weird and gross when she talks to me and I think she’s the same age as my mom, that or she has really bad work done.” You laugh at that and he smiles explaining even more, “the flowers were for you, babe. I have the receipt, it has your name on it as the recipient. They were supposed to be your weekly bouquet and that’s why the note says what it said. I don’t want to spend time getting to know anyone but you.”

“God, I hate that bitch. I’m sorry I assumed,” you exhale deeply, feeling an immense weight off your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “it was an unfortunate mess of coincidences mixed with delusion from your crazy ass boss. It’s the last time I’ll use a delivery service too, all your flowers are coming right from me.”

“You still want me after I made that horrible assumption?” You ask with a playful tone, but the nerves in your stomach have yet to calm down.

Jeno smirks, tsking nonchalantly, “if anything, I want you more. Something about you getting jealous, a little possessive, that’s hot.”

You shove him lightly, leaving him behind as you begin walking home again. You can hear him laughing and his steps as he runs to catch up to you. His arm wraps around your shoulders and he presses a kiss to your temple while you both dodge the other people trying to get home. He takes your bag off your shoulder and smiles at you warmly, “I didn’t think we really had to talk about it, but in all seriousness I do like you a lot. I don’t want to see anyone but you.”

“I like you a lot too,” you smile back, “so what? You’re like my boyfriend now?”

“Nothing would make me happier, and you should report your boss to HR. She’s a total bitch.”

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve simply never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic. 

But after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the delicate softness of his skin comforting like morning sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you'll cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

Now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a gentle zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiety. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. Yet despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. If you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual, but maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging onto the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight, comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it parts in shades of twilight that waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile is still adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

An unidentifiable emotion now glints in Lyney's eyes in a display of diamond lights, illuminating seas of magnificent amethyst. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to an unclear border before definitively falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

[menlove]

wait enlighten me on the i’m so tired being about paul grind i don’t know if i see it

ofc! it's just interpretation obviously but it's one of those that makes me eye it a bit. but. it's one of those that every beatles wiki will be like "it's about yoko" but he's never said that and honestly the song doesn't fit with their relationship at the time like at all. she WAS writing him a lot of telegrams and their relationship was certainly getting Weirder at the time, but I wouldn't think it would inspired sleepless, tortured nights yet

the song is very much like. a sort of rising anger/irritation with the situation and the person in the song which is very much where paul and john were at at the time. I'm not a "something happened in india" truther, but I do think things between them were going south. had been since brian died and only got worse with paul getting engaged.

this part particularly To Me reads as very paul

bc at the point john and YOKO were at if he called her and was like "hey I'm in love with you and I'm going insane and can't sleep over it" I don't even know that HE'D be scared she'd say he was joking and turn him down. like she was very much the one doing the chasing there for a while and her telegrams seem pretty damn confident about where that relationship was headed. where they were at just didn't seem like the tortured, aching, harm that he talks about in this song. it was the beginning obsession of new love which is a TOTALLY different feeling than this song gives off.

paul on the other hand. I think it would be incredibly reasonable to assume that if he told paul "yeah I haven't been able to sleep because you're driving me insane, I'm in love with you, and it's like actually genuinely hurting me" paul would go "that's a hilarious one john thanks" like 💀 way more in character for paul to brush something like that off than yoko

also as just a further lil reach lol in the esher demo there's this:

obviously john was just misspeaking and meant to say my arms but. interesting especially bc at this point him and yoko had never slept together or been intimate at all. that's USUALLY something I'd call bullshit on with affairs, but they've been pretty open about their relationship timeline. she's also. I mean. yoko isn't very charming lmao I'm not dogging on her she just isn't and she knows that, john knew that, the world knows that. she's just a very blunt person who at the time this was written was just coming off as sort of strange and mysterious to him.

so saying yknow "when I hold you (/fuck you) I wonder if I should get up and lock myself in a mental institution" would again just be a really weird and nonsensical thing to say about yoko. about the notoriously charming man who in this scenario you'd be fucking, though.......... homosexuality was BARELY legal let alone smth john had come to grips with so this whole doom spiral around this person & fucking them & what that means for you, well! very interesting, anyway

anyway that's it! I just am super unconvinced this song is about yoko. and there's really only 3 sort of romantic interest options in his life at the time it could be about and it just wouldn't fit for yoko or cynthia imo. so that leaves paul. and their quickly crumbling relationship.

[fcbooblona]

Sexy Surprise - Rúben Dias

Where reader got her nipples pierced to surprise Ruben.

Author’s note: Hey guys! It’s been 6 years since I’ve last written something and I’m slowly getting back into this world🙂‍↕️ Also, english is my second language, so please be gentle 🫶

I’m totally on for requests and other stuff envolving football! Have a good reading🩷

tw: smut

It was a friday afternoon and you had nothing to do, Ruben left early for training and after doing all of the house chores, boredom took over the place. Feeling bored was one of the things you hated the most, because it allowed your thoughts to go through spirals of random things and it usually ended it up with you wanting to do something crazy.

Which is exactly what happened today.

After getting out of the couch, you decided to take a shower, wanting to feel more refreshed. In the meantime, between taking off your clothes and preparing everything, you stood before the large mirror in your closet, looking at your naked body. You’ve always felt comfortable with how your body is, but now…it seems like something’s missing.

With that thought in your head, you went to the bathroom to take a shower and think about what you could do to change your body just a little bit, when an idea snapped into your head. A couple of days ago, during lunch, your friend told you about how she got her nipples pierced and how it increased her self esteem, and, of course, how things got even more heated in the bedroom. That was exactly what you wanted, a boost to your self esteem that would also work as something to make the sex even better, since Rúben was already obsessed with your boobs, complimenting them every single time you had sex.

You finished the shower and went straight to your phone, searching for the perfect body piercer to do the job. Luckily, you found a good one and booked your appointment for the same day, at 4pm. Since you already have a couple of piercings, the pain was totally manageable and you were super happy about it, getting home really fast, excited to show Rúben the surprise.

It was already 7pm when your boyfriend arrived, finding you in the kitchen, making dinner in just a white tank top and a pair of his sweatpants. For him, this was the paradise. He went behind you to hug your waist with his strong arms, making you jump a little bit, since you haven’t heard anything, and started to kiss your neck.

- Hi, Ruben. I’ve missed you so much. - you said while he sucked on your sweet spot.

- Hi, amor. - he lifted his head to look at what you were cooking. - Is it my favorite pasta? - the smile on his face grew even more.

- Yes, baby, it is. But you have to take a shower first, I can still smell the grass. - you laughed while he pouted.

- You’re mean. - he said on the way to the bathroom.

You finished dinner and started to set the table ready, waiting for Rúben to finish his 1-million-hours-long shower. When he emerged into the kitchen, smelling heavenly, you were already sat on the table, where he joined you and the two of you started to eat dinner and talk about the day. You noticed that your boyfriend’s eyes were navigating between your face and your boobs, probably wondering if something changed, but you kept talking as if nothing happened and he didn’t comment or anything.

Later, you two were laying on the sofa, cuddling and watching some random stuff on tv, when you felt his hands on your waist and some featherlight kisses on your jaw, your turned your face and met his lips, kissing him with passion and soon straddling his lap, turning the innocent kisses into a heated make-out session. His hands were traveling your whole body and quickly found the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to find your perky nipples, adorned by cute metal pieces. When he finally saw it, his brain couldn’t think straight, amazed by the view, the only thing he were able to do were press kisses all over your boob, while saying how pretty you looked.

- I can’t believe you found a way to be even sexier - he said in disbelief, while you tried to hold your moans.

Things got even hotter and now you were practically begging for him to make you cum on his dick, so you reached his pants and grabbed it, stroking it slowly.

- I wanna ride you, Rubes. - you said with puppy eyes.

- I’m all yours, gatinha. - he answered you, knowing how you get even hornier when he speaks portuguese.

You freed his dick completely and took off your pants, aligning it with you entrance, the both of you moaning while you were adjusting to his size, and soon you started to rock your hips back and forth, causing him to groan.

- You look so good riding my dick, baby - he said, almost breathless.

After some time of riding, and being ridiculously horny, you started to feel the pressure building up on your lower stomach, indicating that you were close. You could feel that Rúben was also almost there, since his dick was throbbing non-stop while inside of you. He kept kissing your body, focused on your pierced nipples, obviously, and massaging your clit, while you couldn’t stop moaning.

- Fuck, Rúben, I’m gonna cum - you said, breathlessly

- Cum with me, amor - he said and started to thrust up, finding your body in the middle of the way.

After a couple of seconds, you finally came, releasing your liquids all over your boyfriend, who followed you and filled you up with his cum. The both of you stood there, panting, hugging each other and recovering from everything you’ve done.

- I love you so much, baby - Rúben said to you, while your head was buried in the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin and lifted you head up.

- I love you too, Rubes. - you kissed his lips.

- And before I forget to say it, I. love. your. boobs. - he said, pressing a kiss on each one of your pierced nipples between the words.

I really hope you guys enjoy it and I will appreciate so much if you comment! 🩷

[lainiespicewrites]

I just want to feel safe - Walter Marshall fanfic. Part 1?

Okay. Preface. This story has mentions of sexual assault. This is a personal story. But I've changed a lot of the names and some of the actual story to fit the fic. I think that I've decided this is going to be a series. It's taken a lot out of me writing this but. I really love Walter and I can see this relationship growing into something more than what is here. I also think that from a healing standpoint, I'm gonna write the story I never gave myself the chance to have. Anyway. That's enough from me. I'll let you guys read the story now. I know this is a heavy topic and situation but I'm still always open to comments and feedback. Thank you guys for the support in posting this <3

Plot: OFC reports assault after 2 years and Detective Walter Marshall is assigned to her case. He will stop at nothing to help her feel safe again.

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of sexual assault (retelling the story of what happened.)

Unbeta'd Mistakes are totally my own and I own that. This might be a mess because honestly I was super emotional writing this but it felt good to get it all down.

Please don't share without crediting.

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

I’m not sure what I expected a police station to be like. Frankly I’d never really imagined myself in one. Kind of funny how things can change like that. All of a sudden you’re doing things you’d never imagine. That’s how I ended up here. In this strangely familiar looking police station. I guess maybe that’s the one thing movies and Tv got right. Police stations for the most part look exactly the same. This whole night started from a list of  “Fuck it why not’s” that spiraled out of control. But that explanation alone was not enough to help the officer help me. I looked back at the petite woman in front of me. I’m sure she was a good police officer. I wasn't trying to doubt her skill. But her overly sympathetic nature and deer in the headlights look on her face was making me feel worse. 

“I know this is hard.” She spoke softly, placing her hand over mine on the table. She didn’t know. She had no idea what this was like. Being attacked like this. Letting yourself become vulnerable because ‘why not’ I’d known those boys my entire life. When my brother invited me out for drinks with his friends, I didn’t have a reason not to trust them. Not to trust… him. My brother didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was betrayed too. “But I need you to tell me what you remember, what happened to you, so we can help you.” I looked around again At the empty gray walls. Out the window into the dark cloudy night sky. It must be almost midnight now. Anywhere but at the woman in front of me. What did she say her name was? Rachel? I focused on the empty desk chair behind her when I finally spoke. 

“It doesn’t matter. I remember all of it. Every detail. But we have no case.” I muttered I looked down playing with my hands again. 

“Alayna,” She said my name softly. I met her eyes again for the first time since we sat at her desk. “You don’t know that. You did the right thing coming here and reporting it. I need you to talk to me.” She pleaded with me. She didn’t understand. 

“No,” I said again. “I do know.” 

“How do you know we can’t help you?” She asked her eyes boring into mine. I know she wants to help. I know that but I just don’t see how they  can. not after it’s been so long. 

“There’s no evidence.” I said. 

“Sweetheart, with all due respect you aren’t a police officer we may be able to find something you wouldn’t think to look…”

“It was two years ago.” Rachel paused then. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. 

“2 years ago?” she repeated. I nodded. She let out a soft sigh. “Sweetie, Why did you wait so long to tell somebody?” She asked. This felt more manageable. This I at least knew the answer for. It was logical. It made sense. Well it doesn’t really make much sense but when you’re bargaining with yourself it does. 

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m still not sure it does.” I said. I swallowed hard. Now or never Alayna. You didn’t walk 3 miles to the police station, in the cold, after a panic attack to not give yourself some kind of peace. I let out a long breath and started again but then the door of the squadroom opened. A tall figure walked in. I couldn’t make out much of him at first. Just that he was very tall, 6,1 or something and had a full beard. He was wearing a heavy winter coat and beanie. I tensed a little when  I watched him walk from the entrance to the desk next to Rachel’s. He shrugged off his coat revealing a thick gray sweater. He draped his coat over his chair and pulled off his beanie. His hair was a mess of dark curls. As soft and cozy as he should have looked…Something still felt intimidating about him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken a word since he’d walked in the room. None of us had actually. 

“Alayna,” Rachel said my name, getting my attention and finally breaking the silence. “This is detective Walter Marshall. He’s going to be working on your case.” That’s right. When I came in to report, the officer on duty at the station had to attend to a call. When I told them I wanted to report an assault, they told me that they’re psychiatrist was still in the office.  I  could talk to her until one of the detectives was available. I think they were afraid if they told me to come back later… I wouldn’t. They were probably right. Although I’m not quite sure if it would be because I’d lost my nerve or dying of hypothermia on the walk home.  Rachel wasn’t even a detective. Was I really that out of it? Why didn’t I remember that until now?

“Okay,” was all I managed to say. 

“I can stay,” she said. I'm not sure if it was for me or the detective. Maybe both. “If you’re more comfortable. If it’s easier for you. Ya know?” she asked. I shook my head and I watched as the detective…Walter, put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Go home, it's been a long day,” he told her. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. And surprisingly he had an English accent. “We’ll manage,”  his eyes were tired and heavy when they met mine. He offered a gentle smile. I nodded. 

“You’re sure?” She asked. 

“I don’t want to keep you Rachel. I can talk to the detective.” I said. She nodded. 

“Okay, wait right here, just a moment while I catch him up okay? And then you two will get started.”  I gave her a slight nod and just stared out the window again. Rachel and the detective went off into a side office somewhere to discuss what I’d already mentioned. This was sure to be quick now. As soon as she tells him how long it’s been, he’ll dismiss me. This was so stupid. I’d kept this to myself for this long. I knew this was a bad idea. Just as I had convinced myself to get up and leave the office door opened again. 

“Thank you,” Walter’s voice said from across the room. “Get home safe.” he told Rachel as she waved goodbye. I gave her a small wave. I sat back in the chair trying to relax. But I knew I couldn’t. He came back over to the desk leaning his hip against it, crossing one foot over the other. “Are you comfortable out here or would you like to talk in my office?” He asked. “There aren’t too many people still around this late but, it would offer a bit more privacy than the open squadroom. It’s up to you.” He stated. I thought about it for a moment. Finally, I  pulled my eyes from the window to look up at him. 

“I think I’d feel better with a little more privacy,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile. 

I stood up from my spot next to the desk.  Then he led me out of the squadroom and down the hall to a small office. There wasn’t much, just a large desk with nothing but a computer and a travel coffee mug on it. The walls were bare other than a standard wall clock. He motioned for me to take a 

seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. He circled around to the other side of the desk, setting a file down and taking a seat across from me. 

“You’re reporting  an assault, is that right?” He asked. I nodded. 

“Yes, not a recent one. I’m sure Rachel informed you.” I said. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was wasting his time. Detective Marshall’s eyes met mine. I didn’t find the same overly sympathetic look in his eyes like I did with Rachel. He wasn’t pitying me. He wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze  me. At the same time, it wasn’t cruel or harsh. Not even annoyed. Just open. 

“She did,” he spoke after a brief pause. “But I’d like to hear the information from you myself. If that's alright with you?” He questioned. I swallowed hard. I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk. 

“I can do that.” My voice shook when I spoke. “Will I need to write a witness statement too?” I asked him. Telling this story once was going to be hard enough. Seeing it written on paper was going to be gut wrenching. 

“Let’s just get through this conversation first. We’ll talk about the rest later, "he said. I nodded. He sat with his forearms leaning on the desk and his hands folded together. He pursed his lips into a tight small smile and nodded toward me. “Whenever you’re ready.” He stated. I swallowed hard. Of course it didn’t necessarily mean that. It was after midnight now. This guy probably wanted to get home. I had to get this out. 

“November 12th, or well 13th I guess. It was around 1:30 or 2am so the 13th. My brother, his friends and I had gone out for his birthday. It wasn’t his birthday though, we had to wait until the weekend to celebrate because it fell during the week.” I was rambling. He needed details. I need to stop rambling. “Uh anyway, We were at a bar, earlier that night on the 12th, but I got kind of tired. The boys were picking on me for being a lightweight and leaving early. I left the bar at 11, got home at like 11:15. I went right to bed. I was really tired. The boys were all gonna come back to the house when they were done at the bar. I woke up to the bedroom door bursting open at like 1 am and someone yelling my name. I screamed. It was my brother's friend. Um.” I paused for a second, starting to feel uncomfortable. Did I have to describe it exactly? What did I have to say? But Walter spoke, easing the tension a bit. 

“And what’s his name?” He asked me. 

“His name is Justin, uh Justin Veach.” I responded. Walter nodded for me to continue as he wrote a note in his folder. He put the pen down and looked up at me again letting me know he was listening. 

“Uh He said, ‘It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it's just me! We’re back, come hang out with us!’ Then he came over to my bed and kissed my face which was weird but he was an affectionate guy and well they were still drunk. I didn’t think much of it. He’d known me since I was a baby. He and my brother had been best friends since kindergarten. They were ten years older than me and he watched me grow up.” I shuttered a little thinking about it. “Um so after that he left. After telling me to come down stairs to talk with them again. And I did. We sat in the kitchen. I just sat there sleepy and confused. The boys were talking and eating drunk snacks or whatever,” I kind of chuckled a little. “It was nice. But we were talking about how it’s so funny that I’m old enough to go drink with them now. And Justin kept making these comments about remembering when I was born and that I was such a beautiful baby. It seemed so weird. But looking back. He knew. He knew what he was planning on doing…. We all said we were gonna go to bed. Blake, my brother, told Justin he could sleep on the couch or they could share his bed or whatever. But Justin was coming up the stairs with us and he said ‘I wanna cuddle�� to me, and he was still drunk and I thought he was joking so I laughed it off and said ‘yeah sure’ I let him lay in my bed. But I put myself on the inside. I thought he was just gonna lay there a minute and like it would be a joke. Blake did too. He asked if I was okay before he went to his room. Because he was still kinda drunk and ready to crash. I said. I was. But Justin didn’t just lay  there. He took off his pants before he got into the bed so he was just in boxers and his shirt. And,”

 I was shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna cry. I didn’t know this man. He was surely annoyed by me and. God he probably thought I was lying. That’s what Justin would tell him. When he confronts him. That I’m lying. Or maybe that's what I wanted. This was so stupid  I shouldn’t have come here. I swallowed hard again. I looked back up at walter. I could feel the tears in my eyes. 

“Take your time.” He said softly. “Is this when he hurt you?” He asked.

“I can’t,” my voice was trembling now. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I can’t do this.” I sobbed. I stood up to leave his office. Walter stood and walked to the other side of the desk gently reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, I know that. I wasted your time detective. I’m so sorry.”

“Hold on,” Walter’s voice was low. “Sit back down, and breathe for a moment. If anything else I can’t let you walk out of here and drive home in this state.” I looked at his face. He was concerned. Worried about me. About my safety. I sat back down in the chair. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself again. But I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “It’s okay, You’re safe in here. I’m going to do everything I can to help you Alayna.” Detective Marshall said, crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes again. I nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” he asked. I nodded again. He stood and leaned on the edge of his desk. His proximity seemed to help keep my calm. I don’t know what was so different between him and talking with Rachel. But when he said he could help, I believed him. Maybe it was the sheer size of this man. Or the gun on his hip. Or maybe there was something in his aura or some other bullshit I didn’t understand that was protective and made me trust him. Fuck maybe I’d gone to far to turn back now and I was too emotionally exhausted not to lean on anyone who would listen. Whatever it was, I continued. 

“At first I was just laying next to him. Like I was saying, I thought it was a joke. But he wrapped his arm around me to make me cuddle him.. I guess. He started rubbing my back. I froze up. I started to recognize that his hand was lingering where it shouldn’t but I couldn’t say anything. And this guy he’s .. he’s huge. I mean like 6 foot and like 400 lbs when he rolled over on to me and started touching me I felt paralyzed I couldn’t move but… I couldn’t have pushed him off if I’d tried. I just felt hopeless. That’s when everything happened.” I sniffled softly. I hiccuuped catching my breath. “It was like I was outside of myself watching it all happen…I .. I don’t know if that makes sense? But I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay there. I don’t remember if I said no. But,

“You didn’t consent. That’s no. This was not your fault. You’ve already tried to blame yourself. It’s a really common thing, unfortunately, that you can’t react. But that doesn’t mean that you let it happen. Or that you wanted it to happen.”  Walter said softly. I nodded at the ground. 

“Afterward he, he fell asleep and I showered, I had to get rid of the feeling of him. I slept on the couch, Well I tried to. The next morning he was came down and sat with  all of us like nothing had happened. I had mentioned that my back had hurt the night before. And he moved closer to me and rubbed it for me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t react…again. I just. I don’t know. All I could think was, I didn’t wanna start anything. But I also couldn’t make sense of what happened. When he left I changed the sheets. I threw them away actually. My clothes were washed. But eventually I couldn’t look at them anymore. I threw them away too.”

“Why do you think it took you so long to say anything?” Walter asked me. 

“I wasn’t even sure it happened. I wasn’t sure I could call it what it was. I mean he was drunk, I just… Just laid there. It took me over a week to tell my best friend. But It took almost 4 months after talking it out with her and one of my other friends for me to face it and call it what it was. But I still can’t say it.”

“And why are you here now? What made you report it?” He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath. This has been eating at me so long but. This month. This 2 year “anniversary.” If you could call it that. Has been terrorizing me. 

“It’s all I could think about the last couple of weeks. I started having nightmares. Seeing him in my dreams. Before when I dreamt about it, I always got away. Someone always stopped him. But now. Now I’m trapped all overagain. It happened in my childhood home. In the room I grew up in. I’ve moved out since then. I live alone. He doesn’t even live in that town anymore. He lives 3 hours away from me. The chances that I’ll run into him are slim. And I don’t have any 

reminders of it anymore. But Sometimes if I wake up and I’m laying next to the wall it sends me into a panic. If I see someone with a similar body type or with a similar voice it shut down. He’s over a 100 miles away. But I don’t feel safe. I’m losing my mind! I’m getting up to check the lock on the door like 10 times before I can go to sleep. What if he just walks in like he did then. He doesn’t even know where I live. But I’ve never confronted him. And he has a wife! And Kids. He did when he did this to me. I can’t get over that. She needs to know but … I don’t, I don’t know what to do! That’s why I’m here, I had another panic attack, I didn’t trust myself to drive. So I walked. ” I was in tears again. He must think I’m so weak. So stupid. What an idiotic thing to do. 

“I understand, and first I want to say, I’m sorry that you went had to experience that. It’s a good you were able to tell your friends, but you were seemingly dealing with this alone for a long time. I’m sure that’s taken a toll on you. The next thing I need to ask you, is what you want to do now that you’ve told me.” I took in his words. He was right. This has been so heavy. And I’ve carried it alone for so long. But now that I’m here I never thought there would be options. 

“What can we even do? It’s been so long?” I asked. 

“Not too long though, if you want to press charges, and see him convited for this, that’s still on the table. If that’s what you want to do then yes, I do need you to write a witness statement. There will be a lot of other legal things that need to be done and signed. Then we can start an investigation. I know you think there isn’t anything here. But well do you trust me?” He asked. Did I? I didn’t know him. But Rachel seemed to. And he had his own office. That must mean he’s some high status detective right? And there was just something about him. Why did he feel so safe. It wasn’t the gun. It was. It was him. I did trust him. 

“I do,” I spoke finally. 

“I’ve put people away, on much less than what you’ve given me tonight.” He said. That felt good. To know he could lose everything. Like he made me lose my sense of security. But then my stomach dropped. 

“W-would I have to see him?” I asked meekly. 

“In court yes, possibly in a line up. But definitely in court. We would need your testimoney,”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that, I don’t know if I can face him.” I shook again. 

“There will be officers in the court. You won’t be near him. He won’t be able to get to you.” 

“Will you be there?” I asked suddenly. 

“If you’d like, yes, I can be there.” He said giving me a soft smile. 

“Can I think about it?” I asked meeting his eyes again. 

“Of course,” He stood and walked back to the other side of his desk. “It’s been a long night emotionally for you, if you’re ready tomorrow to make a decision you can come back in the morning.” He said typing a something quickly on his computer. “If you’ll wait just a few minutes I can gladly give you a ride home. It’s far too cold for you to walk, even it’s a block away.” He offered. I nodded. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s, well its actually 3 miles.” I stated biting my lip awkwardly. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled. 

“Well, I surely can’t let you walk that far this late. I’ll get you home safe.” He said. He finished typing whatever it was he was doing on his computer. Then he locked the file in his desk. He stood and gestured for me to lead out of the office. He turned the light off and locked it behind him. Oh God I’d kept him after his shift. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you,” 

“Oh, no don’t appologize, this is common practice for me. This is honestly the earliest I’ve left in weeks.” He said as we walked back to the squadroom. He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I nodded. 

He led us out of the station and to his truck in the parking lot. Once we were settled in, I gave him my address so he could drive me home. I watched out the window as he drove down the familiar streets. The drive was silent. The closer we got the more I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Back home. Back home to be alone again. I was so scared. What if he knew where I lived. I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t long before the detective was pulling up in front of my building. 

“Thank you,” I spoke breaking the silence for the first time since we’d left the police station. 

“Of course,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a business card. “Take the night and decide what you’d like to do.” He said and then handed me the card. “That’s my cellphone number. If there’s anything else you need call…”

“Would you come in?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth. 

“I, I can search the place, If you’d like. If it would make you more comfortable.” He offered. 

“I mean, could you…” I can’t believe I was asking this, “Stay?” the word came out barely above a whisper. I sighed. I turned toward the window squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry that was stupid, You probably have a wife, and a family to get home to. That was so inconsiderate. I just. I was afraid and I… I’ll just go.” I opened the door. 

“You don’t feel safe, do you?” He asked. I paused and shook my head. I didn’t. I hadn’t for weeks. But I couldn’t ask this guy to give up his time for me. 

“I don’t but, It’s okay. It’s just that there’s only one deadbolt lock on the door. And I don’t know sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. And I can’t seem to get any sleep. But that’s not up to you. I have to figure this out. You’ve done so much to help me already detective.” I rambled. Walter let out a long breath. 

“You’ve got a lot on your mind right now and a lot to consider.” He said. “I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping at all, You could use a good nights rest.”  He stated. 

“But it’s not you’re responsibility and I don’t want to take you away from your family.” I said. 

“I, well I live alone actually.” He bit his lip awkwardly “Why don’t you stay with me for the night? I’ve got some work to catch up on anyway. I probably won’t be getting much sleep. You wouldnt’t be putting me out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked raising an eyebrow. I’d given this poor guy enough trouble. And he was being so kind. Walter nodded. Honestly. The way I was feeling I didn’t have the energy to consider it any longer. I shut the door and walter put the truck in drive. 

It was almost 2 am when we walked into his house. 

“I can just sleep on the couch I, I really don’t want to be any trouble.” 

“You aren’t,” He assured me. “And please, you can sleep in the bedroom, I rarely sleep there anyway. It’d be nice to know someones getting use out of it.” He smiled. I nodded and he showed me to the room and left me to get comfortable. He said he’d be down stairs likely working in his office if I needed anything. I took in the room everything seemed to be a dark navy color the comforter, the curtains the sheets. I chuckled to myself. That made sense for him. 

I slipped off my shoes and slid under the covers. This should feel strange. And it did. But I was safe. And I hadn’t felt that way in a while. I let that feeling take over as I tried to fall asleep. But my mind started to wander again. What if he found out I reported it. What would happen. Or What would he do when they arrested him. What would he say about me. Would he say I wanted it. Tell them I didn’t push them away. Try to convince them that I was lying somehow? He was good at that. And he had a friend from college that was a lawyer. Surely he already had a story. Maybe he’d been prepared since it had happened. I started to shake again. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear the footsteps up the stairs. I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t even realize that I’d started  to cry again until I noticed he was next to me saying my name. 

“Alayna. Alayna. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He soothed.

“I can’t, I can’t… what if he tries to come after me. What if.. What if he tells them… what if tries to tell them I wanted him to…I don’t think I can do this.” I sobbed. Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

“He can’t get to you. We’ll be sure of that. All that matters, is that you’ve told us the truth. As long as you have, and as long as you confirm that in court. No matter what he says or what anyone believes, it won’t matter. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe again. I think the only way we can do that. Is to put this guy away. I’m not gonna stop until we do. I won’t let him hurt you again.”  He said.  Pulling me closer to him. 

“Do you have a sister?” I asked after a brief pause sniffling softly. 

“No,” He shook his head and leaning back against the headboard letting me rest my head against his shoulder. “But I have a daughter.” He said. 

“Is that why you do what you do?” I asked. He smiled. But he was quite for a moment. 

“Not at first. When I was younger and I first started out, it was just something that I liked. Something I was good at. But when my exwife and I had our daughter, a lot of that changed. It became personal. To an unhealthy point honestly.” He chuckled at himself. “I guess to my own detriment.”

“Is that why you’re still working even though you clocked out hours ago? You could use some good sleep too detective.” I stated. Starting to relax. 

“I haven’t slept well in ages,” He said. “Focusing on the job, oddly enough, keeps my mind off everything else. There are some horrible people in this world. I don’t have to explain that to you. I get so in my own head about how, it could be her. If I spend anymore time considering the what ifs I’d keep her locked in a tower,” He chuckled. 

“I understand that. But surely, If she was raised by you, she’s a smart girl. But.. well I guess,” I sighed. “Nevermind.” Walter squeezed my shoulder softly. 

“Thank you, I know what you mean.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“I’m going to do it.” I said suddenly. “Press charges, I mean. You’re right. Knowing can still get to me. Knowing he’s out there. That’s what’s causing me all this stress and …I can’t keep going on like this.” I stated. 

“I can take you back to the station tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Walter?” I asked nervously biting my lip. 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you stay here? I don’t know what it is I just feel.. Safer when you’re here.” I blushed softly. Walter adjusted so that he was lying on the bed. I moved and laid my head on the pillow. 

“Get some sleep darling. I’ll be right here.”

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

Okay that was part one❤️ let me know how you’re feeling about this guys!

Tag list: @summersong69 @carrie80reads @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007 @alwayzmsbehavn @toooldforobsessions@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @henryownsme @identity2212

Part 2:

[astarlightmonbebe]

the appeal of yeojeong as a normal guy who’s just a little bit off. not enough that you would notice when talking to him, of course, but it’s just there, under the surface. a disturbance. and i think it’s interesting because typically you have two types of guys somewhat adjacent to this: guy who seems totally normal but is secretly sadistic/a psychopath, and then guy haunted by a traumatic/troubled past, who has that secret layer of torment running beneath the surface of their image. but yeojeong breaks through these archetypes, and i think part of it is because he’s just so...calm. it’s not that he’s living a double life (kind doctor by day, killer by night) or hiding part of his past (everyone he worked with knew about what happened to his father, and watched his downward spiral during his college days). he’s not the typical male character who is, at every attempt, trying to outrun his tragic past (even though he does run once or twice); he’s not haunted by flashbacks, or suffer from PTSD in the way that is usually portrayed in dramas. and i think part of that is because the glory is a story about victims. it’s dongeun’s story, first and foremost, even though it is also yeojeong’s story, and hyeonnam’s story, and sohee’s story. but it’s a story about dongeun’s pain, and when it’s not about her pain, it’s just about the pain of victimhood - unlike other dramas, this isn’t a show where male pain outweighs the rest.

so yeojeong is just a normal guy. he’s handsome. he has a good career. he’s a plastic surgeon, an interesting choice when both his parents were/are hospital directors, and his father seemed to have worked in the er or something of the sort prior to his death (or at the very least wasn’t a plastic surgeon). something could be said here of yeojeong choosing the ‘safe’ path as a doctor, a path where he cures pain and makes people happy without the added risk of being attacked by one of his patients. there’s no proof of that in the show - why he chose to be a plastic surgeon - but it’s an interesting thought path to travel. 

dongeun says he must have lived a good life. that he’s never had to worry about the path that he’s on. and that’s true, to a certain extent. to everyone, including her in the beginning, yeojeong is perfectly friendly. he’s perfect, but not the perfect that people perceive as too perfect (i.e. the guy who’s hiding things); he has his moments where he spazzes out, gets into fights, goes crazy over dongeun texting him back, teases his mom. he’s perfectly well adjusted (a perfect contrast to dongeun’s ‘maladjustment’). he wears flip flops to work and gets the same coffee order daily. he plays go with old men in the park.

he likes to listen to the fizzing of vitamin tablets in water because it calms him down. is this a strange thing? only because he thinks it’s important enough to mention to his therapist. he does it at work too - drops the tablet in, closes his eyes, rests his head. he does it at home - drops the tablet in, opens the drawer, draws a knife. it’s about the noise. bubbles rising to the surface, like bubbles rising from underwater. he stays underwater until the last possible moment, when he has to break the surface in order to breath. dongeun makes him feel like he’s at the eye of a storm - a deceptively calm center, while everything else rages outside. and i think it’s kind of important that he makes that comparison, when he’s someone always seeking that calm. the soothing noise, that makes him feel lonely.

so he’s just a normal guy. a normal guy who receives letters on a regular basis from the prisoner who brutally murdered his father. he doesn’t like letters, he tells dongeun. who knows what he does with the letters - does he keep them? does he throw them away as soon as he sees them? he must have read some of them; maybe you only need to read one to know what is in the rest. maybe he’s still reading them; maybe he keeps them without reading, an invisible torment. it’s not what he does with the letters that matters, but that he receives letters at all. 

can you still call it a haunting if you’ve almost made your peace with it? if you’re living with it? 

he’s just a normal guy, who looks his therapist right in the eyes and tells her that she couldn’t fix him. he diligently attends therapy for years on a regular basis, even though it doesn’t work. he finally abandons it when he moves to semyeong, because he chooses to embrace dongeun’s revenge. he chooses his own revenge, too, in a way. the dark part of him that he can’t escape. the one that makes him pick up the knife, who asks dongeun who to kill before she even tells him she wants any of them dead, even when he’s a doctor from a family of doctors, and doctors don’t kill - they save lives instead. 

you couldn’t fix me, he tells his therapist calmly. so calmly. as if there’s not a bloodied man sitting next to him, a man he dreams of killing. the man is just life to him, just like the letters are life to him to. a dulled numbness. an acceptance of it. 

is your son going through hell? can you even tell it’s hell, if it’s what you’ve become used to? is it hell when you’re a doctor dreaming of murder? is it hell to no longer be tormented by dead men and living murderers who send you letters? is it?

[zhuoyichenpretty]

ep 24 commentary (brain fried edition)

my head is a little empty after ep 24 tbh!! brain is not braining after all the zyc hurt no comfort (-:

some scattered thoughts here and there, painstakingly corralled like cats out of my vacuous brain and into a list (spoilers):

ZYZ is really emo this episode poor dude like he is having a hard time keeping it together it seems. Every other word out of his mouth is depressing as shit, which is saying a lot considering how depressing he usually is already (': I kind of wanted this episode to pick his brain more, give him room to emote in the aftermath of all that. But it almost feels like the character refuses to be alone, like he might spiral if he has too much time to get in his own head. I'm still so curious to know, though, what he thinks about the state of their promise in light of how far ZYC went trying to save him. “He has us,” ZYZ said to WX. When the time comes, I wonder how he'll reconcile that with what he’s asked of ZYC.

PSJ and Ying Lei bonding! shenanigans! I did laugh thank you guys. Also, not that the team didn't operate separately before, but I really get a sense of how much ZYC held things together with how apparent his absence is. It's obvs heartwarming seeing how hard everyone is working to save him (PSJ especially for me bc I love their mutual tacit trust and respect and all the ways they're alike and different), but ultimately it's still so angsty (':

Kind of love the couple instances where ZYC has been referred to as fragile/weak/of delicate constitution (depending on how you wanna translate it) like that's a very interesting quality to assign to basically the tank of your team. Even if the comments are made facetiously, it just reminds me of how often we witness his mortality, and of course how everything about the styling, aesthetics, and content of the flashbacks to his childhood reinforce a characterization of vulnerability at the very heart of him. I saw someone mention how the Cloud Light Sword responded to ZYC's tears and to that vulnerability rather than brute strength, and I totally agree. I love how this "fragile" characterization plays into the whole fate weapon deal. ZYC's strength is (imo) unconventional, and it is his sensitivity, his compassion, and his deep capacity to feel that the sword acknowledges, resonates with, and empowers. Almost like it protects his tender heart rather than making it something he needs to overcome to get stronger.

One thing I will never get over is how incredibly they styled TJR as baby!Yichen, adult ZYC, and Bingyi. What do you mean this is all from one drama and not three separate productions. Insane. I'm out of my mind with how gorgeous every change in costuming is.

A tangential note is I've seen people mention (paraphrasing very much here) ZYZ's demon form being nicely subtle in its eerie inhumanity and tbh I have a similar feeling even just about human adult ZYC imo. Especially when his hair is down and he's got that thick eyeliner on and we get a close up of his contacts, if you told me from the start that he's half-demon half-human or something I'd believe it. Along the same vein, baby!Yichen reads completely human to me, and Bingyi of course completely demon. Something something the Cloud Light Sword bridges the gap something. This point is unintelligible and not narratively based but I had to make it because I've been thinking "wow ZYC elven" for days now.

Saw a tag about yuanyi getting us through some dark times but man they are PUTTING me through some dark times rn help?/

Been trying to put off talking about the baby Yichen scenes because wow I cried immediately. Well, no, I was like "yay! I love seeing baby Yichen!" and then they crushed me into demon dust lol. And then WX had to tell that absolutely precious story about when she got sick and ZYZ had to go like "actually ZYC was probably lonely as fuck" and yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyway.

Ending on this point so I can put a pretty screencap here: There is so much gravity to just the short scene of Bingyi removing his mask and dropping to his knees with that anguished and fatigued expression. TJR's acting is the gift that keeps on giving (me angst).

so sorry if anything here didn't make sense, i currently have the same thousand-mile-stare as Bingyi the more i think about how this all might end and how long I'm gonna have to wait to find out.

[ghouljams]

Hi, Ghoul. Apologies for kinda venting (?) on your asks, and please ignore this if you'd like, but how does one cope with the idea (and, quite possibly, reality) of being alone for the rest of their life?

I've never been the most confident individual in my years of being alive. I'm not conventionally attractive, and I've been battling with my perception of self for like, basically my entire life. Never really had romantic relationships, other than unrequited and secret crushes. At first, I thought to myself that I could deal with being alone and unloved in that way, but I figured as I grew older that maybe I'm just trying to be tough about it. I want to have the kind of love that other people have, envious as I may sound. I want to be able to look at myself and think, "wow, despite my flaws, someone still took the risk to get to know me and chose to stay."

Of course, this is not to say that the love my tight-knit circle of friends and family aren't adequate. I'm just curious. And hopeful that someday I get to have that other kind of love.

That said, I really love your works and I am privileged to be able to read them :)) it's always such a delight to see your rambles and reblogs in my dash. <3 Hope everything is going well for you.

Hello my love. You already know I'm going to suggest therapy so I'm going to get that out of the way early.

Here's the meat of it. There are thousands upon millions of people who feel exactly the same way you do and I truly believe this is because of the way western society has structured its media/propaganda. So much of the media we consume is loaded with this idea that romantic love is this totally different thing that will complete your life and show you how worthy you are if only you can find it.

This is a load of horse shit.

One of the unhappiest times of my life was spent in my first relationship. I actually had a harder time loving myself because I was scrambling to prove I was worth being loved by a person who liked me in theory but in practice frequently flaked on dates and didn't care about my emotional wellbeing.

I say all of that because I had your same attitude of "despite my flaws they're choosing to stay with me" and ultimately she left me. Over text. It was a whole thing.

So many of you talk about being "old" and "destined to be alone" and you're like 25. Hell even if you're 50, people find love at any age, but the only way to find anyone good is to be comfortable with the fact that romantic love isn't the end all be all of love. You can fall in love with anyone, that doesn't make it a good relationship. It just means you're in love.

Also what do you mean "someone took the risk?" Are you a serial killer? Do you set fire to police cars? You sell meth? What risk do you pose to anyone? You're sad and have low self esteem. So what? That makes you a risky prospect? Your flaws of *checks notes* talking down about yourself is such a huge hurdle that it's a grave danger to anyone that wants to date you?

And I'm sorry I feel like I'm getting sort of mean but you got me in older sibling mode with this and so you're getting big sister shit.

I just- like if you truly believe that you are such a burden to date then you aren't going to get what you want out of a relationship. You'll become obsessed with the first person that reciprocates your affections and it will spiral into something that hurts you. I am speaking from experience.

My dear, i am a stranger on the internet, and I love you. This world is cruel towards tender hearts and disappointment hides in every corner, but we keep loving the world and the people in it anyway. Love finds us when we least expect it, and if you truly want that sort of love it will come to you.

But I need you to be kinder to yourself. I know you said you struggle with self image. Stop measuring yourself against other people. Stop setting up goal posts for your life. Stop thinking your flaws make you some undateable ghoul. They make you, you, and whoever you date will love you for them not in spite of them.

[tyetknot]

I thought you were joking when you said that the Farrar's books were outdated but holy shittt, even for 1970s wicca/witchcraft those guys were like full gender heterosexual white magic ye harm none thing, I was also seeing their interview were christian kids interview them, and boy it is hard to watch, but on to my question kskk, do you know if they changed later down?,like Janet seems to be okay sometimes,I can't find anything of them on their "controversial views" except their later polyamorous relationship (wich come to think of it I would love to hear their gender rationale on that), and also, how do you personally (if you do so) reconcile this type of author?, like there is no doubt that they are important in craft history, but now they kinda do more harm than good.

Hi Anon! I'm sorry if you've been waiting for a bit, you know how Tumblr is.

So one thing it's important to remember is: back in the 1970s and 80s a religion where women run the show was very progressive. Feminism got bolted onto Wicca pretty quickly once it hit the American West Coast and Starhawk wrote The Spiral Dance. Things like worshipping a goddess who didn't need a man around to tell her what to do were really unusual for the time. All this hippie-dippy shit like being naked in your rituals and such was far out, man, not like those totally square and boring Christians.

The problem is that, like many older people who were once cool and progressive, they just kind of stopped where they were in the 70s and 80s and didn't really......well, progress past that point. This leads to things like statements like that one in A Witches' Bible where they think that actually gay people are perfectly OK in ritual (this was a bit of a controversial point at the time) as long as they act like their biological gender, which is hilarious to us in 2024 because they obviously conflate being gay with being trans in some bizarre fashion. This was progressive for the time. It comes across as incredibly ignorant today. And of course, if their ideas did change, well, the book is already out there, people are reading it, and you can't go back in time and change something that's already been published. You can add notes or amendments to further editions, but I don't believe they ever did that, and Stewart Farrar died in the early aughts.

I find the polyamory thing to be pretty cringe, NGL, because I am a judgmental and suspicious piece of shit and think that an awful lot of the time polyamory is a tool used to make younger women sexually available to older men - good Lord, the age difference between Stewart and Janet - and that's very distasteful.

In my opinion the Farrars are probably the stodgiest and most conservatively-written books you'll find from that time period, and they're a good example of what coven-based Alexandrian Wicca looked like at that time, but there were a lot of more relaxed writers out there at the time and LOTS more a few years later. My primary complaint with A Witches' Bible is rather specifically that asinine Oak King / Holly King thing which they made up entirely and then ineptly shoehorned into the Wheel of the Year, where it just doesn't fucking work, and then everyone else just kind of went with it. No! It sucks and is bad, don't do it!

Do I think they do more harm than good? No, I don't. I think that anyone fairly new to Wicca shouldn't read this book first thing out the gate because it sets a lot of very unrealistic expectations, and because it's pretty old - Eight Sabbats for Witches was published in 1981, which makes it a few years older than me, and The Witches' Way in 1984, which makes it a year younger than me, and TBH there's much newer and fresher material being published every year. I would much sooner recommend someone like Thorn Mooney to new person interested in traditional Wicca.

[tex-treasure-chamber]

F. Anderson & a vampire reader that kept their faith (this is Christian oriented, mind, for maximum angst)

G!n reader and relationship unclear; I used humour throughout because some of this can feel a bit well hurtful reading, even for me writing it jdjdjd

@tokoyamisstuff here is the post I said I'd make! I hope it helps satisfy those asking for this sort of HC post!

At first, you are an enigma.

No, not an enigma- you're not real to Alexander in the beginning; to him, you simply shouldn't exist (and not just because you're an 'abomination').

You defy his core belief system so succinctly, so precisely, that the moment you mention that you're a Christian (or heaven forbid, Catholic-- he'd prefer it if you were some 'dirty Protestant' than Catholic) he automatically thinks you're lying just to upset him.

I'm so sorry honey but he becomes a total neckbeard about religion toward you for a while :/

I'm talking, "Oh really? Name five parables, explain their meanings, tell me which books they're in, and recite them verse by verse then if you're a PROPER TRUE Christian...... Go on. I'm waiting." about Christianity toward you because you can't be a Christian, you're a bloody vampire! Act like it, damn it!

When you rightly call him out on his awful gaslight girlboss gatekeep behaviour he gets hellllllllllllllla defensive about it. Shuts down and just starts trying to (unsuccessfully) kill you again until taking his leave with a scowl. (Why are you so hard to kill anyway?)

He doesn't care if you didn't choose to be a vampire or if you did- not at this time, anyway. You're damned as far as he's concerned and he doesn't care (yet)

Each time you meet afterwards for the longest time, he calls you a false worshipper either to your face or inside his mind.

Also, each time you just smile that close lipped smile, politely hiding your fangs, telling him you forgive him for his hostility in that genteel tone, each time you 'turn the other cheek' and don't rise to the bait he tries to ensare you with to argue with you, the sight of it eats him up inside that much more.

He wants you to get angry-- no. He NEEDS you to get angry at him, needs you to lash out, to prove to him that you aren't as saintly as he thinks you're pretending to be. When you don't, when you just escape him, it leaves him feeling so hollow and confused inside.

'What's real? Surely Y/N isn't a real believer- how can they be?' He thinks when he should be sleeping, 'It's impossible- vampires are beyond salvation, aren't they? God has no love for creatures such as these, isn't that right? Surely I'm right, surely God--'

Wait. Is he ....? Trying to speak for God?

He closes his eyes. Goes to sleep.

It's not until you've managed to earn his respect just by being the you that you are that he even begins to consider that MAYBE.... you're telling the truth.

The implications that you even might be telling the truth only send Alexander deeper into a spiral of confusion as your very existence forces him to reevaluate what he knows of his own God vs what Iscariot has drilled into his head for years.

When he catches you praying on his behalf, praying to God and asking that He 'forgive Father Anderson' for his behaviour toward you..... that's when the change in his heart begins to start.

How could he cling onto the doubt fueled by his innate hatred of vampires when he's heard you ask God to forgive him?

It slips out of his hands slowly but surely like sand from the beach.

The next time you see him, he's... he's quieter. He doesn't stand as tall; he hunches in just a little as though trying to get a better look at you.

"Why do you still believe in a God who has forsaken you?" He asks, the usual contempt and arrogance in his voice snuffed out, replaced with only meek wonder.

There are so many ways to answer that; whatever way you do answer, it only leaves Alexander a little awestruck by you.

He asks for forgiveness. Truly asks. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. Sorry for the way I treated you. Sorry for what I've said, what I've called you." he says, and it's clear from the slow, careful way he speaks that this is all a bit rusty on his tongue but he means every syllable.

Your forgiveness feels like a stifling blanket- it's too much; he doesn't deserve it. He knows he doesn't. He's already gotten to the point of thinking about how if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't handle the behaviour he had shown you with such kindness, such... grace.

From that moment on, he's there for you. He can't imagine the psychological stress of being a vampire and a person of faith might do to you, can't imagine the struggle you face daily with knowing what you are vs knowing what you believe in.

He knows what it's like to struggle with being oneself.

If you didn't choose to be a vampire, he reminds you gently that it's not your fault that you crave blood; it's who you are now, but it isn't who you have to always be.

If you did choose to be a vampire, you must have your reasons. He may not agree or accept them, but he quietly respects them because at the end of the day, your salvation or damnation isn't up to him and he understands that now.

When you express doubt that you'll ever get to Heaven, or that you'll ever see God's face because of your vampirism, he just reminds you that the fact you keep trying every day to be good and do good despite your vampiric condition should be enough to earn yourself sainthood.

It's not easy for you.

But it makes it easier now that he knows and supports you.

[starryeyedjanai]

hypnotized in your cherry thrill

kinktober prompt: virginity | buckingham | explicit | 4k inspired entirely by @stobinesque's microfic about this concept

read on ao3

"Wait, what?" Robin asks, voice incredulous because there's no way she heard her right.

Chrissy blushes, cheeks going such a deep pink - the kind of flush she might get during-

She's getting ahead of herself.

Chrissy stammers for a couple seconds before she asks, "I mean, is it really that surprising?"

Robin blinks at her. "Okay, yeah, the whole 'raised Christian' thing. So not having sex I totally get, but you never-?"

Chrissy squirms a little, twisting her mouth. "That's also the 'raised Christian' thing. It was just something no one ever talked about. And I always felt guilty even thinking about trying."

Robin takes a minute to digest that.

She had an inkling about her being a virgin - she's talked before about her upbringing, but to be fair, she's also talked about how much she's wanted to get away from that.

So the virginity thing, she can get. What she's absolutely floored to hear about is that Chrissy's never even had an orgasm by her own hand.

That shit was something Robin figured out in her early teenage years. Her mom sat her down and gave her the Talk and handed her a hand-held mirror and some printed out diagrams and told her that it was important for her to get to know her body.

So Robin knows her body, has gotten herself off an incomprehensible number of times, knows how to get herself off quick and fast if she needs to - which comes in handy living in a shared room for the first time.

The thought of one of her friends not only not knowing anything about her body, but not ever even having explored it is such a foreign concept to Robin that it throws her off.

When Chrissy came to her with a secret, she thought she was going to get the deets of how she actually did hook up with her high school boyfriend despite previously saying that she hadn't. Because seriously, even good Christian girls have secrets like that, right?

But that is not what she told her.

She sat on the bed next to Robin and wrung her hands looking nervous to even be talking about it, but then she'd whispered that she hated not knowing anything about her body and wanted to know if Robin would be willing to teach her about it because Robin's not shy about sending Chrissy a text saying not to come back to the room for a little while so she "must know about orgasms," - the word whispered like it's a bad word.

Which is honestly sending Robin into a bit of a spiral.

Because she's been crushing on Chrissy since the first time she saw her laughing at one of Robin's stupid jokes.

It took time, is the thing. Chrissy was so reserved when they first moved into their dorm room, barely speaking to Robin unless she had to.

Robin quickly learned about her through some digging and she thought that maybe Chrissy was just super judgmental or something, but it turned out that she was just nervous being away from home for the first time, in a city nothing like her hometown, with a much more diverse group of people than she knew back home.

But when she finally opened up and talked to her, Robin immediately knew she was in trouble. Because Chrissy is gorgeous and kind and funny and-

Now she wants her to help her learn her body.

Robin's face is hot as she says, "So you- just so I'm not misunderstanding. You want me to show you, like, how to touch yourself. Like-?"

"It's weird, it- I shouldn't have asked. We can, we can forget I said anything. It's stupid," Chrissy says quickly, moving to get off the bed.

Robin puts a hand on her arm and says, "We are not forgetting this, Chris. I want to help you."

"You do?" Chrissy asks, her eyes wide as she looks at Robin.

Robin nods. "How do you want this to go? Like, we can watch something and I can tell you what to do?"

Chrissy shakes her head. "Not porn," she whispers. "Like, you could-" She cuts herself off and bites her lip. She puts her hand in her lap and looks at Robin like she's supposed to read her mind.

Somehow, it clicks in her brain and she gapes at Chrissy. "You want me to- demonstrate? Like- touching myself?"

There's no fucking way she got that right, no way that that's what Chrissy meant, but she's nodding her head, looking relived that Robin understands.

She can't say no.

Chrissy is sitting on her bed, looking nervous and Robin can't say no.

She doesn't want to. Maybe it's selfish, maybe she's going to hate herself after, but she's not saying no. The thought of being the person who, maybe inadvertently, is the reason behind Chrissy's first orgasm is overwhelming and fills Robin's entire being with this persistent buzzing.

"Okay," she says, breathing out heavily. "Now?"

It's the middle of the day. She didn't have anything planned for the rest of the afternoon, but Chrissy seems more the type to want to turn the lights off at night and not look at whoever she's with, but maybe Robin was wrong to think that. Everything about this is surprising her, so she should really stop expecting anything to go the way she thinks it will.

Chrissy nods shyly. "If that's okay," she says.

"Yeah, that's-" more than okay. Robin takes a deep breath in and says, "I'm gonna take off my clothes if that's okay. And you can too if you want to, like, practice after I show you."

Chrissy nods and they both get up from the bed.

This is so fucking insane.

Chrissy lifts her shirt over her head and Robin is used to having to look away when Chrissy gets changed because she doesn't want to creep on her or make her feel weird. But she watches as Chrissy pulls her top off and realizes she's way in over her head.

She snaps out of it and takes her own shirt off, feeling a little self conscious because she's not wearing a bra and Chrissy is openly staring at her tits as she unhooks her own bra.

Robin feels like she's going to pass out when Chrissy drops her bra on the floor. Her tits are fucking perfect. If Robin was hooking up with Chrissy and not just showing her how to touch herself, she'd be swooping in immediately to get her mouth on one of her nipples.

Her tits look like they'd fit perfectly in Robin's hands. She wants to touch her, wants to put her mouth on her.

This was such a stupid idea. There's no way she's going to walk away from this without falling in love with her.

Chrissy pushes down her skirt and Robin gets with the program and takes her jeans off.

They're left standing in their underwear, looking at each other, and Robin feels nervous.

She's nervous that she's going to screw this up. She's nervous that she's suddenly going to forget how to touch herself with Chrissy looking at her. She's nervous that Chrissy isn't going to feel good touching herself, that she's going to be left disappointed.

She tries to push through the anxiety that's suddenly gripping her and pushes her underwear down.

Chrissy does the same and Robin is gifted with the view of Chrissy's bush, trimmed and neat and-

She has to look away. She's going to combust if she keeps looking. There's so much to look at.

Robin realizes the only thing they're both still wearing are the tacky friendship bracelets they bought at the mall early in the semester and has to steady herself. She doesn't know why that of all things is what is tripping her up so bad.

"I'm- uh, we can. On the bed?" Robin stammers, but Chrissy nods, so they both climb back onto Robin's bed.

She has no idea where to start. She's normally laying down when she masturbates, but she isn't sure what would be the best view for Chrissy to see everything.

They're both kneeling on their knees and Robin realizes that Chrissy looks just as nervous as Robin feels and that helps melt away some of her nerves of getting everything wrong. She's going to be helping, even if Chrissy doesn't come, even if it's a little weird or awkward. She wants Chrissy to know how to make herself feel good.

"So, you've never tried touching yourself?" she asks to confirm.

Chrissy says, "Never. I, okay, I tried touching myself a little one time, but I didn't know what to do or, or what felt good. And it all kind of felt like I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be so I just stopped and didn't try again."

"Okay," Robin says. "I normally lay down when I- uh. So we can lay down next to each other maybe."

Chrissy nods and Robin moves her pillows side by side so they both have one to lay their head on.

Robin's left arm brushes against Chrissy's as they both lay down. Twin beds really aren't built for two people and that fact has never felt more obvious than right now.

"So, uh. I, I normally only really touch my clit when I masturbate. So I can show you what I do and then you can do it," Robin says, not sure how this is really going to work. Is she going to make herself come in front of Chrissy or is she just going to do a little demo and let Chrissy have the room to herself to explore a little? She has no idea what's about to happen.

"Okay," Chrissy says, sitting up on her elbows to be able to see better.

"Do you, uh, know where your clit is?" Robin asks, because she isn't sure how much 'I have no idea how anything on my body works' covers.

"I think so?" Chrissy says, sounding unsure.

"Okay, so. Uh, if you look, my clit is right here," she says, spreading her thighs a little and spreading her labia with two fingers to point at it with her other hand.

Chrissy leans up and then leans in and Robin sucks in a deep breath, feeling more than a little overwhelmed all of a sudden.

Chrissy sits up further and says, "I think I maybe need to be closer to see. This angle isn't working. Could you spread your legs? I can sit between them."

The thought of spreading her legs for Chrissy makes her pussy throb, the want lighting her up from the inside.

She does as Chrissy asked, spreads her legs and Chrissy slides onto her knees between them. Since there's more room on the bed now, she scooches a little closer to the center and Chrissy repositions herself between her spread thighs, looking at where Robin still has her fingers in a vee on either side of her clit.

Robin's thigh is touching Chrissy's knee, they're so close. She spreads her legs wider because if she's touching Chrissy while she touches herself, she's actually going to go insane.

Robin feels dizzy and hot. She's never really been one for exhibitionism, but being looked at like this is - it sure is something.

Chrissy's looking at her like she's a marvel, like she's something worth looking at, and it's kind of fucking Robin up a little.

She was sure an hour ago that Chrissy was a straight girl that she was doomed to crush on - not from afar since they literally share the same room, but just. She thought-

But now, with Chrissy looking at her pussy like this, looking hungry almost, it's hard to tell.

She takes in another deep breath and says, "This is my clit," tapping it with her middle finger.

Chrissy's looking intently still, watching her fingers, and Robin knows she has to be able to see the slick dripping out of her by now because her hole feels soft and open the way it gets after she comes with how wet she is.

She's got a beautiful girl between her thighs, so she thinks it was only ever inevitable that she was going to get fucking soaked.

Chrissy's attentive as Robin shows her what she normally does, as she talks her through how she normally touches herself.

"There isn't really much finesse to it. I just kind of," she trails off as she rubs circles around her clit.

"And that feels good?" Chrissy asks, licking her lips. God.

"Yeah. Well, if I'm not turned on, it's just kind of meh, but when I'm horny, it feels really good. I'm super impatient most of the time, so I kind of jump in and go kind of fast until I come like this."

She moves her middle finger over her clit quickly and feels the orgasm building with the faster movement. She switches to circling her clit with her index and middle finger on either side of her clit and keeps the pace fast, a moan falling from her mouth as she does.

She stops after another minute and closes her eyes because if she doesn't, she's going to come under Chrissy's watchful gaze.

When she collects herself, she opens her eyes and looks at Chrissy. She says, "So that is basically all there is to it. It's different for different people though, so what works for me might not work for you. But you can try it out and see if it gets you off and if not-"

Chrissy cuts her off and asks, "You don't ever, like, slow down and savor it?"

That kind of throws Robin off a little. That wasn't what she was expecting.

"I mean, when I'm with someone else, I do. But if I'm by myself and not, like, watching or reading anything spicy, it's mostly just the orgasm that I'm after, you know?" She cringes as the last words fall out of her mouth because of course Chrissy doesn't fucking know.

"I... can kind of understand that, I think. So if you were with someone, you'd let her take her time with you?" She's looking at Robin's face as she asks this and Robin shivers a little.

"Yeah," Robin whispers and the tension in the room thickens. She clears her throat and says, "But this is supposed to be about you. So I can go and leave you to try it out on your own if you want?"

"I don't want that," Chrissy says, shifting back from where she's kneeling between Robin's legs. She spreads her knees and they both bump up against Robin's spread thighs.

She leans back and with a shaky hand, she covers her pussy with it, cupping it.

Robin opens her mouth to say that they can switch positions if she wants, but the words get caught in her throat when Chrissy copies what Robin showed her and spreads her labia with her fingers.

With her thighs spread and her fingers holding herself open, Robin can see how wet she is, her slick clinging to the hairs there.

Her mouth is suddenly incredibly dry, and she desperately wants to taste the wetness between Chrissy's thighs. She wants to bury her face between Chrissy's thighs and suck the slick right out of her, drink her juices as she clenches her thighs around Robin's ears. This is so bad - she's got it so bad.

"So like," Chrissy starts to say, but cuts herself off when she strokes her finger over her clit.

She's so fucking pretty, it's actually unfair.

Robin's breathing harder now than when she was touching herself, watching Chrissy tentatively move her fingers over herself. How the hell is she supposed to be normal when Chrissy gasps so pretty when she does something that feels good?

"Is that right?" Chrissy asks, still touching herself, her fingers deftly rubbing circles on her clit.

Robin's nods and says, "That's, yeah. That's how I do it at least."

Chrissy slows her fingers down to a stop and looks Robin in the eye.

"Maybe um - I don't know if I'm doing it right. Maybe you could, you could show me. Like a hands on demonstration, just to make sure I know how it's supposed to feel," Chrissy says, once again shattering Robin's perception of reality because there's no way this isn't a dream, right? The pretty girl she's been admiring for months now is not only in her bed touching herself, she's asking if Robin wants to touch her. That definitely feels like a dream she's had before.

"You. You want me to- touch you?" she asks, ready for Chrissy to laugh in her face because this has to be a joke.

But Chrissy just nods, looking self-conscious like she isn't the most beautiful thing Robin's ever seen, like Robin is going to say anything but a resounding and enthusiastic yes.

Robin has no idea how she pulls together the brain power, but she says, "Okay, you should lay down then," and holds her breath as Chrissy complies, moving to lay back down. They shuffle around like before and get settled next to each other again.

Chrissy's laying next to her, and Robin rolls onto her left side.

With Chrissy so close, Robin can see that her skin is so smooth and her tits are so pretty and her cunt is hairy and wet and gorgeous and Robin is so fucking overwhelmed right now. She's going to touch her. She's going to get to touch her, to put her hands on her, and she's so overwhelmed.

Dear god, she doesn't know how she's going to survive this.

She puts her hand over Chrissy's, dragging it down to her cunt, and positions her fingers the way that she normally does when she touches herself - the way she'd shown her.

She keeps her hand on Chrissy's and moves it for her, starting up a slow, steady motions, rubbing at her clit slowly the way she would if she was making out with someone and getting them worked up.

"Oh," Chrissy whispers, sighing. "That feels different from when I did it. Kind of."

Robin keeps moving Chrissy's fingers for her, letting her get a feel for it.

She says to her, "I find that it's more intense when someone else is touching you. You can't anticipate their movements so it makes it kind of exciting. When it's your own hand, you know what to expect. Not that that's a bad thing."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense," Chrissy says. She lets go of the tension in her body that's been there thus far, lets her legs fall open a little more.

"I sometimes get my fingers a little wet so there's less friction, uh-" she cuts herself off, trying to think of a way to show her how she uses just her middle finger on herself. She can't think of a way so she says, "I can show you, like, not with your hand. With my hand. My fingers."

She cringes at herself.

Chrissy sighs so pretty and says, "Yeah, okay, you can."

So Robin lets go of Chrissy's hand and watches as Chrissy lets it fall to the side. Fuck. It's been difficult to contain herself and up until now, it's still been by proxy, but this? Putting her hands on Chrissy, letting her fingertips drag through the slick mess between her legs? She's actually feeling faint at the idea.

But Chrissy is trusting her, is opening up her legs for her, and Robin can't let her down.

She lets her hand drift between Chrissy's legs, lets her middle finger touch the slickness at her hole.

She says, "God, you're so wet," in awe. Chrissy's fucking dripping with it.

"Sorry," Chrissy gasps.

"Don't apologize," Robin says with a laugh, bringing her middle finger back up.

She touches Chrissy the way she would touch herself if she was trying to get off quickly, flicking at her clit with her middle finger rapidly.

Chrissy moans so sweet in her ear and it just encourages her to go faster, to try and make her come.

She rubs circles around her clit again, faster than before, and Chrissy's hips buck up.

"I- oh god, that feels good," she says, bringing her thighs closer together instinctively.

"You know," Robin says, rubbing tight circles around her clit. "Depending on how you feel about virginity, this could count as- you know. This could count, someone else getting you off." The thought makes Robin flush red. Being the first person to get her off is one thing, but the person taking her virginity? She didn't know that was a thing for her.

Chrissy's gasp is loud in the quiet of their room. "That's - holy shit."

The noise Chrissy lets out as it hits her, as she starts to come - for the first time - is something Robin's never going to forget.

She fucking wails as Robin's keeps the pace of her fingers steady, as she rubs larger circles, feeling Chrissy's cunt pulse and clench as she comes.

This is Robin's favorite part of being with someone, watching someone fall apart - the way Chrissy's legs shake, the sounds she makes, the way her hand comes up to grasp at Robin's wrist as she slows her fingers down and drags her through the last waves of it.

Her fingers stop moving when Chrissy's hand on her wrist goes lax, when she's melted back into the bed, looking dazed.

There's a flush high on her cheeks and Robin feels a fierce sense of accomplishment for being the one to put it there.

It's quiet in the room as Robin dips her fingers lower again to gather more of Chrissy's slick juices on her fingertips.

She brings her hand up and doesn't have to say anything as Chrissy watches her every movement like a hawk. When her hand is close enough, Chrissy just opens her mouth for a taste, so Robin presses the tips of her fingers against her tongue.

Chrissy hums, her lips closing around Robin's fingers as she sucks lightly.

When Robin's brain starts working again, she doesn't have any idea why she thought putter her fucking fingers in Chrissy's mouth was a good idea. Well, it's probably better than putting them in her own mouth, at least. Tasting Chrissy, god - she doesn't know how she could resist immediately shoving her head between her thighs if she did that.

Her fingers slip from Chrissy's mouth and she tries to gather her wits again, because she needs to go shower, needs to go get herself off immediately.

She asks, "Was that okay?" because she has to know, has to know if nothing else, that Chrissy felt good doing that.

Chrissy nods, still looking relaxed and flush. "That was- I can get why you rush it if you're alone now. It was-" She clears her throat. "It was good, really good."

"I'm glad," Robin says. "I should clean up, though. Take a shower."

Chrissy nods again and says, "Okay. Um, thank you. That was really nice."

Robin smiles, feeling a little bashful. "You should try to get yourself off now. The wonders of multiple orgasms and all that." Robin sits up and rises from the bed, going to grab her towel. She wraps it around herself.

When she looks back over, Chrissy's flush, which had been receding, comes back with full force. "You- I. Will it feel good, the second one?"

"Oh yeah," Robin says. "And the third and the fourth. They all feel good. Some are maybe less intense, but in my experience, the longer you go, the more sensitive you get, so. It's something to play around with, how much is too much for you."

"Oh. I'll try that then. Not all at once, I don't think. But I'll try the second one now," Chrissy says, blinking up at Robin with an expression she can't really read.

Robin grins at her and says, "I don't think you'll have any trouble, but I'll take an extra long shower, just in case."

Chrissy smiles at her, but it doesn't really reach her eyes.

Robin grabs her shower caddy and waves at her before she leaves, unable to shake the feeling that she's missing something.

She's so caught up in thinking about it in her shower that she forgets to get herself off.

The room smells like sex, like pussy and orgasms, when she returns. Chrissy's gone, likely taking a shower of her own.

Robin's still thinking about it when Chrissy gets back from her shower, but Chrissy is totally back to normal, smiling over at her like everything is fine.

[philtstone]

psych crew of your choice, "putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up"

shoutout to zainab and bbc's the musketeers for inspiring the chaos that is fic

The number of times Gus has had to smack a hand over his best friend's mouth in the last twenty four hours is really starting to get unhygienic. 

It doesn’t help that even while in the throes of crisis, Shawn’s first instinct is always, without fail, to stick his tongue out and lick Gus’s palm. This was true when they were six and is still somehow true now at age thirty. While Shawn’s phone rings – immediately proceeding the third time they’ve successfully panic-crashed back into the Psych office before Shawn can blurt out something that gets them both jailed – Gus tells him off. It doesn’t matter that Shawn could be finally losing his last marble due to the machinations of cosmic irony; Gus refuses to be licked another time. 

“You know how disgusting it is to have your spit on my hand when you literally just threw up two hours ago?” Gus asks, over the irritating jingle of Shawn’s ringtone going wild on the table. Shawn himself has already collapsed backwards onto the couch. Well, really, he kind of tripped. There’s an old pillow pet on the floor that both of them have forgotten to pick up for like, two months, and Shawn’s ability to keep his balance vacated the premises about six hours ago when, mere moments after Gus entered the office, thinking it was going to be a totally normal day for them, his best friend grabbed him by the shoulders – looking vaguely ill, definitely sweaty, and concerningly flushed – and declared, with no little amount of panic in his voice, that he might have actually turned into a real psychic.

A recent phenomenon, of course. Like, just within the last twelve hours. They don’t have any concrete proof, other than the fact that Shawn is convinced he saw, in technicolor, the exact details of a murder that he has encountered absolutely zero evidence for while he was trapped in a supply closet (Gus has no idea how he got there), and, also, had an extremely vivid and detailed vision of himself and Juliet, married.

This last thing happened about twenty minutes ago. 

Shawn’s spiraling. 

“Okay,” Gus had said, an eventful nine hours earlier. “Explain to me exactly what it is you’ve been seeing.”

“When?” Shawn wailed in a high-pitched approximation of Robin Williams’s Mrs. Doubtfire voice. Gus, perhaps unwisely, brushed this off as only slightly less normal than standard Shawn behavior. 

“Yesterday!” Gus said. Shawn had explained – in between three bouts of nausea and one ten minute stint in which he recited all of Ally Sheedy’s lines in St. Elmo’s Fire from memory – that the weirdness started in the middle of the previous night. “What makes you think you’re – seeing things?”

“Because,” Shawn moaned, “I can’t remember why they’re in my head! Or when they’re from. Gus, I woke up at two a.m. and my head was so fuzzy and dizzy that I threw up! And then after I threw up I saw a man, standing in broad daylight, eating two cherry-filled cruller donuts and sporting the world’s ugliest toupe, and then another man falling off the edge of a pier, the pier, it was that pier right outside, but I can’t remember actually seeing either of those two things! Except they’re in my head, Gus! I swear to God they happened! But when?” Shawn, at this point, took a deep long breath, swayed a bit on the spot, and added, “and then I thought maybe to clear my head I should microwave and eat a frozen burrito.”

“Let me guess,” Gus said, in only mild distress, “then you threw up again?”

“Oh my God, how did you know? Gus. Gus. Are you turning into a real psychic too?”

“Man, I don’t know! And, wait a minute, at what point did you end up in the supply closet?”

At this, Shawn put both hands up to his head and looked vaguely deranged. “Gus … there’s no supply closet in the Psych office.”

Oh, boy, Gus had thought.

READ MORE ON AO3

[sophieinwonderland]

I, for one, believe your dissertation on plurality to be greatly insightful and intriguing. We didn’t know before reading this, but my host and I tend to do the “inhabitation” thing, as well, on complete accident! I tend to call it “projection,” though.

Aster will be holding a pillow pet, as they need to be cuddling something when they sleep. I pretend I’m the one being cuddled, and then I “project” myself onto the stuffed toy on accident. Now my host is holding me, and it really feels like it to both of us!

They said it was “endo bullshit,” but I’m saying this because this system is traumagenic in origin and I am also a tulpa. Maybe it’s just that they’re intentionally misunderstanding you, and haven’t even tried it.

Since I scrolled to the bottom of my inbox anyway, I came across this along the way.

So sorry for not getting to this before. I think what tends to happen is I put off a response for a little while, then I fall into a procrastination spiral where it seems more awkward to answer the more time has passed. Then it gets lost in my inbox because I'm terrified of scrolling down. And then it's two-and-a-half years later! ☹️

This is super cute and sweet though!

Thank you for offering your perspective and sharing about yourselves!

And I totally agree that people who mocked Inhabitation should try it for themselves!

This isn't just an endogenic thing. Beyond your personal experiences, this is also evidenced the overlap between the POSIC and CDD community.

And it just seems weird to mock something that is relatively easy to at least try, without even giving it a fair chance.

Anyway, wishing you well, Rylas! 💖

[writingwithfolklore]

hello! I saw one of your more recent posts about straight people writing wlw characters. I totally agree with you. As a sapphic person myself i would love to see more sapphic media, literature specifically, out there in the world. however i saw that you said it wasn’t a very “sensitive” topic. i kinda feel the opposite. I understand that it might not be the most sensitive subject to cover but i think that when it comes to lesbian/sapphic relationships being portrayed in the media there definitely needs to be some care taken with the story, or i guess sensitivity taken into account.

often lesbians or queer women in general are highly sexualized even when the writers may not be trying to do so (it’s almost like it’s hardwired into society’s brain to sexualize us lol). it’s also kinda a running joke in the community that no wlw story line ends happily, usually it ends in death or heartbreak. it’s funny but it’s also a bit sad i think. i just feel that going forward as writers of books, movies, tv shows, etc. it’s majorly important that we be sensitive to the communities feelings on that.

There are also so many layers when it comes to understanding and portraying what a “lesbian” is. I think if someone, straight or not, is going to write a lesbian character then it’s important for them to understand and be sensitive to this.

I think a great example of a wlw storyline that was done beautifully with so much consideration for the community was the sapphic story in Arcane. I and many others felt very satisfied with it but the straight side of the fandom kinda spiraled and tainted it in a way. I think it serves as a good reminder that wlw stories are serious and should be handled with care and sensitivity by the writer and viewer.

I’m not saying any of this to attack you or what you said(bc i definitely do agree with you) and i really hope it’s not coming across that way. Feel free to ignore this these thoughts were just floating around for me after i read the post and i thought it brought up an interesting conversation. I just thought i’d kinda share what i was thinking. anyway i love you advice and find it super helpful when going through my writing process 🫶

Hello!

Thanks for writing this! You're totally right and valid to have these concerns and I appreciate you bringing it up because it is a really interesting conversation! The reason why I said wlw wasn't necessarily a sensitive subject is because I don't see it as inherently harmful, as opposed to writing about homophobia or racism for example, which in any sense of its depiction is harmful to someone and should be taken with extreme care.

That's not to say that someone can't write about wlw in a harmful way, and so for that reason many would consider it a sensitive subject. There's unfortunately many more harmful depictions of queer people in media than not as you pointed out, but I think I hesitate to call it sensitive because I don't want to equate these stereotypes and harm and struggle with the identity itself. I am also a queer person, and I think the way people can talk about queerness is at times very othering.

However, you are right in that people, especially not in the queer community, should be taking care with writing queer identities because there is a lot of harm there, and that simply saying that an identity is or is not a sensitive subject in one sentence doesn't really sum up the whole discourse about queerness, depiction, and identity. I'm happy to edit that post to reflect that. <3

[dandylovesturtles]

So in Sidelines, you've mentioned that Donnie doesn't really understand why Leo doesn't seem to want to push himself after the whole Shredder thing and takes it as rejection. I imagine it stings to do all this hard work to make things accessible for your brother, only to have him just. Lay there. And not really try to do anything with all this AMAZING work you just did.

Does this lead to any big blow out fights between them? What's the tipping point for that?

And does Donnie ever figure out (or get told) why Leo is acting the way he does?

yeah, unfortunately, since Donnie has a tight association between his gifts for his brothers and their love for him, having Leo flat out reject all the things he's built and all the upgrades he's done to make the lair livable for him feels like a rejection of Donnie himself, and he's pretty hurt by it. also, Donnie is kind of desperate for things to go back to normal, and he's upset that there's not some obvious fix for Leo's health problems, so Leo not doing what would help just compounds his frustrations.

of course, Leo's rejection of the chair and other accessibility tools aren't a rejection of Donnie in his mind; he definitely still loves his brothers very much, even if he gets aggravated with them. so he doesn't really understand why Donnie is mad, and he reads that as Donnie trying to push him into things he doesn't want, and they just spiral a bit in their misunderstandings and bitterness.

the fight I already wrote about is what a lot of their fights look like, more of a short but violent explosion followed by Donnie storming off and Leo wanting to be alone, rather than a long drawn out fight. for awhile Donnie avoids Leo entirely, which just makes them both feel worse and doesn't accomplish anything lol. I think they do have a big blow out at some point when it becomes clear that Leo's sulking is making his condition worse and Donnie loses it over Leo not taking care of himself.

I don't totally have this part of the story planned out but I think it's finally April that sits Donnie down and gets out of him that he feels like Leo's rejection of his work is a rejection of him, and points out it's pretty unfair to Leo to assume that when they haven't even talked about it (and no, yelling at each other does not count). and April is the one who Leo has been the most open with so far, letting April see how scared he is that he's never going to get better, and while he hasn't actually said it to her out loud she's more or less put together that Leo doesn't see the chair as a way to regain independence and mobility, he sees it as giving up on his own body ever working right again. she encourages Donnie to be a little more understanding of Leo and try not to assume the worst. and she's been encouraging Leo this whole time to stop hiding his feelings and be open about his fears and worries.

so at some point they do have a big heart-to-heart about it, and Leo does finally admit, at least in part, why he reacted the way he did. and he'll apologize for not being more appreciative of the work Donnie did, because he let his bitterness come out and didn't acknowledge how Donnie was trying to help, while Donnie apologizes for taking things so personally when Leo was just having a bad time.

the other problem with the first version of the chair is that Donnie got so excited designing it that he kinda forgot it's not, well, his, so Leo feels detached from it in the way he would if they just sourced him a chair from somewhere else. and also it ends up having cool features but lacking in things that are actually useful to Leo. in future designs Donnie is quick to involve Leo early on and actually listen to what he wants, what works, what gets in the way, etc, and it becoming a collaborative process for both of them really makes them happier with the final product and pulls them even closer together as brothers.

so it's a happy ending! they just take a bit to get there.

Thanks for the ask!

[allyougottado]

HI Doodle! How have you been? I've been kinda meh bc of college but thats beside the point. About your reblog of sending you a character (or in this case, coach haha) I wanna see your list on either Maybel or Joshua or Lumen Brooks(I'm indecisive about those 3, they've been filling my mind lately aaaaaaa), even tho they dont have much lore, I love read others HC, so I'm eager to read yours^^(sorry if they wont fill all the list thingy:()

i’ll try to do all 3 cuz i rly like these coaches as well 😎 (i'm skipping fave line and song i associate them with because... ppl dont speak in just dance and i'm not creative enough to associate coaches with any song other than their own map LOL)

maybel‼️‼️

fave thing about them: her design is so cute!!!! i love yellow and her dress looks inspired by poodle skirts with the little line (phone cord?) spiraling down the skirt lol it’s so adorable. i especially love the alt. design cuz purple sleeveless jacket is CUTESY (also she looks like she’s matching with joshua with the sleeveless jacket hehe 🤭 very CUTE💯💯💯)

least fave thing about them: nothing to hate abt her 😍

brOTP: love you like a love song (this headcanon was subconciously created by looking at ur art btw LOL)

OTP: JOSHUA‼️‼️‼️

nOTP: i’m ngl i have never seen any other ship with maybel in it LOL

random headcanon: she’s a softie but the one thing she’s loud abt is her #LOVE!!!! i probz got this from the straightforward and aggressively-lovey vibe from call me maybe (and the dance too), but also a description from the JD twitter lol (they describe her as the sweet one hehe)

unpopular opinion: idk i’ve never seen too much opinions that i disagree with abt her

fave picture of them: it’s scrapped but this is kick ass maybel from puppet master lmao

joshua😎

fave thing about them: the fake personality i made for him in my head 😼 and also his yellow glove probably

least fave thing about them: i'm gonna be really honest this part will probably be empty for almost everyone i’m not a person who hates easily 😭

brOTP: i always thought that #thatpower extreme and sorry looked similar to him (i think everyone else did too LOL) so YEAH they’re totally bros to me. i also group epsilon with those 3 but if i explain it will totally derail :P

OTP: maybel 💛🩷

nOTP: haven't seen anything too hateable yet lol

random headcanon: kuudere lolz. basically the exact same thing i said for maybel but instead of sweet and soft (🥺) he's like cold and serious on the outside but super hype and chill when he's dancing or talking to ppl he likes

also he’s probz the most normal compared to #thatpower extreme and sorry lol

unpopular opinion: once again, i haven't seen too much opinions i can disagree with lol

fave picture of them: this screenshot i took from youtube lmao

lumen brooks!!!!!🎸

fave thing about them: ur gonna be so shocked when you hear this but i love his yellow raincoat i want it for myself. also he has TEAL HAIR! TEN MILLION CHARACTER DESIGN POINTS TO YOU UBISOFT (blue hair=looks like miku=good)

also i like rock so his map is so cool. i like how they went with a quirky weird rock map instead of a depressing dark one like the two they added in 2023 like yeahhhhh lets switch it up a little (no hate tho i fucking love evanescence BTW)

least fave thing about them: WOAH it’s a bit too soon to hate lolz

brOTP: probz p1 and p3, zephyr reef and crimson riff. i know they’re most likely not even real but i’d like to think he treats them as if they were his bros. also it would be rlly funny if he just has crazy flow powers and can make stuff he draws real harold and the purple crayon style

OTP: nothing rn

nOTP: also nothing rn… that game needs to come out so i have more brainpower to think of cool stuff to say 😾

random headcanon: when u think punk he doesn’t really look like one compared to crimson riff but he probz acts like one lol. would probably hate ppl like night swan and nithe long. and probably kids in america too (she’s falling for the propaganda… 😔 lol) also he’s loud. idk why i think that it just fits to me lol. also everyone probably thinks he’s #CRAYZAY 🤪 but don’t worry bro. i understand you 🤝

unpopular opinion: idk at first i thought he would be chill with scotty but i somehow changed my mind like scotty’s too much of a sweetie pie and lumen is too feisty (to me hehe) i still like fanworks with both of them in it tho they’re funny. like clashing personality stuff is still very entertaining to me

fave picture of them: idk he’s only existed for a couple of months so there’s not much pics of him… probz the little cartoony promo art from twitter cuz i like how huge they drew his rainboots here LOL

(also hiii mey i’m meh as well LOL when i typed the first half of this post i was out at the mall and i feel like i embarrassed myself so hard there 😭 embarrassment still lingers and it sucks cuz i love the mall but whatever… I’M SENDING MY ENERGY TO YOU SO COLLEGE CAN GET A LITTLE LESS SUCKY 🫶💓)