#but maybe someone would resonate

[blood-orange-juice]

I really miss livejournal friend groups and the concept of showing some posts only to mutuals

Just... writing personal things somewhere where friends could see them in case they are interested but without it being imposing. And without having to write them in a public blog

There are discord servers, of course, but they create an expectation to reply and I don't want that

[quadrantadvisor]

Alright new Jason Todd headcanons in a dpxdc setting:

Danny is a "liminal" ghost, rather than a "half" ghost. He's alive and dead at the same time. (He's like Jesus Christ (in the church denomination I grew up in), fully ghost and fully human.) Danny, in human form, can go through a ghost shield, because he IS a living human.

Jason, however, is a reanimated corpse. He isn't a ghost, wouldn't have a ghost core, etc, he has a normal human system that runs ON ectoplasm. Jason CANNOT go through a ghost shield, because he is always an ectoplasmic entity. Danny can go through the Fenton Ghost Catcher and be split into a ghost and a human; if Jason went through the ghost catcher, he would straight up die.

(For my purposes I'm gonna say that Jason became an ectoplasmic entity upon his resurrection, but wasn't very stable. Dunking in the Lazarus pit stabilized his system but also poisoned his ectoplasm.)

I do think that Jason could learn certain ghost abilities if he learned to harness his ectoplasm, especially if they detoxed him off the Lazarus waters. He's probably already enhancing his stealth and strength in ways he hasn't really noticed. I think he's held back by the amount of physical matter he's lugging around, so maybe he couldn't fly, but I'm imagining temporary invisibility, or intagibility of like, a limb at a time. Maybe he can't walk through walls, but in a fight he can dodge by instinctively making the targeted part of his body intangible.

[crystalpallette]

ally found someone who looked like her and then they kissed. hashtag yuri wins or... something

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I was thinking about his speech before the final boss fight and

I think what draws me to him is that strong sense of determination he has. He's so full of just sheer willpower and spirit. It's the feeling of knowing that you're meant for something bigger, something more than what you have. This scene is so special to me and hearing him talk about it was really awesome.

[iturbide]

How old would be like, an actual adult for a manakete? Nowi's "1,000 something" and she seems. Like a child. Tiki's what, like 3,000? She seems like an adult... is it like humans x 100? How does the dragonstone thing work? Are they born with them now or does each generation have to seal their power in stones? Do taguel actually need stones or is that a gameplay mechanic?

At least for me, I tend to interpret dragon ages along the lines of human age x 100 based on what we've seen in most of the Fire Emblem games. Tiki when she meets Marth is somewhere in the neighborhood of 1,100, but she looks like a kid -- at best a very young teenager, more likely a preteen, so 10-11 range by my read. Nowi, similarly, says she's over 1,000 and both looks and acts like a kid, so I struggle to see her as older than a teenager (and a particularly childish one at that). By the time of Awakening, though, Tiki's around 3,000 years old, and is clearly an adult at that point, so that really does seem to line up with the dragon age being two orders of magnitude removed from the human equivalent.

As for the dragonstone thing...that's open to interpretation, I think. I know some people interpret them as something dragons create themselves (@anankos has a fun bit in one of their old Fates fics that goes into it), but in Awakening it's frustrating because dragonstones are sold and they come in multiple flavors. Awakening why do you do this to me.

So I've tentatively adopted a concept where dragons (and taguel) use a specific type of stone as a form of energy storage: specific stones have a crystal matrix able to receive magical energy, and by taking advantage of this specific resonance, dragons can siphon their power into the stone in their possession and adopt a human guise; if they need to transform, they pull the energy back out to resume their original form.

Of course, I'm damned either way because Awakening's mechanics make no sense and a dragon/taguel can't transform without a stone, leaving them trapped in a human guise -- which frankly makes no sense: if the stone breaks, the power can't go anywhere but back where it came from, so logically they should be stuck in beast form rather than the other way around. So I picked my battles and decided that when I work with dragons and taguel, if they don't have a stone, they don't look human. (On a related note note, if a dragon or taguel loses their stone but it doesn't break, they'll be stuck in human form for a while but eventually revert back to dragon form if they don't find it because eventually their energy levels are going to replenish naturally and they'll transform back whether they like it or not. Nowi has this problem...a lot.)

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

This is an impossible desire, because of survivorship bias, but I detect in most popular Christian thought we are presented with an implicit, sometimes explicit, suggestion that if we surrender to God, amazing things will happen. They point to Hebrews 11 and other famous passages, the Gospel of John’s promise that Jesus offers us life “to the fullest” and that that life starts now and not later.

For the last several years I’ve countered this with the second half of Hebrews 11, which is to say, well yes sometimes God uses people for amazing things, but God also allows very terrible things to happen to people.

But now I think the piece that I have never had shown to me, that I now realize is my own fate, is that it is very possible that God will have what feels like absolutely nothing at all for you to do.

“Many are called, but few are chosen.” I’ve thought about this through the lens of salvation for most of my life, but it occurs to me that it can relate just to the monotony of our earthy existence.

Gideon gathered thousands of Israelites for his army—when he told those who were afraid to leave, ten thousand Israelites remained, willing to face death. God sent away nine thousand seven hundred of those volunteers.

[lysolstrider]

i wrote a poem about this exact feeling im so glad so many ppl resonated with clownfish

fake conversation talking animals

[weavingroses]

no one look at the fact that 99% of my ocs are a reflection of my personal experiences with bullying and cisheterosexism and how that affects self esteem & identity and a profound feeling of otherness

[gu6chan]

Not to name any names but i think the day i truly understood the importance of having a connected "theme" in your work is when i read this person's story and it was all this angst and drama but felt so,,, disconnected and MEANINGLESS i came out feeling the most neutral-faced and "well wtf was that all about" i ever did and when i asked if they had written it with any "theme" in mind they were like "oh i let my work speak for itself, the readers can interpret it" that's a cool idea!!!!! IF you were a reader!!!! do you have an idea on what you're WRITING about though??????

[bioethicists]

it's very important to understand how a personality disorder diagnosis functions in the psychiatric system, even if you identify with the diagnosis or find it useful.

personality disorders on your medical record will be used to discredit anything you say or do. they indicate "don't bother listening to this person; apply treatment regardless of their wishes but also they're probably manipulating/attention-seeking so maybe don't bother treating them". needing support becomes attention-seeking. behaviors that would be treated + supported in someone without this diagnosis are ignored or treated as manipulative. providers are instructed to "withdraw warmth" (a real thing in the DBT provider's manual, btw) in response to self-injury or suicidal ideation.

if you have been dx'd with a personality disorder professionally, you likely understand this.

now, here's the important part: this is not an issue of 'stigma' against a politically neutral, pre-discursive True Disease which is being Unfairly Maligned. these diagnoses were formulated based on the idea that some patients cannot be trusted, that some patients seek care too much. they are applied to patient charts as a justification for withdrawing care or as a dismissal of someone "not getting better" fast enough. in the uk, they are often employed by the nhs to shame or problematize people who use large amounts of nhs resources, arguing that receiving a lot of care through the nhs is a negative behavior stemming from a disordered personality.

there are elements of personality disorders which resonate strongly with many people, including myself, but you need to be clear-eyed about the origins + functions of this diagnosis. as a whole, they were created + function as ways to discredit + mistreat noncompliant or "difficult" patients. 'reclaiming' them is not going to change how they function systematically- it is going to make it easier to engage in this systematic neglect by evoking 'ableism' or 'stigma!' when people question the utility or application of the diagnosis.

[emotigonecrazy]

I think the hardest thing about loving someone, in any way, is when time changes them beyond what you can love.

Maybe they change for the worse. Maybe they fail and fail and it hardens them to the world and you can't love them anymore without cutting yourself on their broken pieces.

Maybe they grow independently of you to love things you don't and try thing you don't care for and all the little daily changes make them into someone you can't love like you used to.

Maybe they don't change at all. Maybe you grow and change and they can't or won't keep up but you know that staying still will kill you and suddenly the shared history is lost to an expanse and where there once was love is now a minefield of the scars that changed you.

Its normal. Healthy even. But it hurts. when you reach a point where you look at someone you used to think you would love forever and find them gone, only existing in the crystals of your fading memories. Maybe lost to distance. Maybe lost to divergence. Maybe still there with you, and you have to decide whether you can keep throwing yourselves on the rocks, searching for handholds to climb, or if this is it, and holding onto the memories of them is worth more than hurting eachother trying to fit into spaces long since bent out of shape.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[bbyseok]

expanding on this post, where you kiss gojo and he starts floating

gojo satoru x gn!reader

you’re greeted with the light of dawn streaming in, and the tickle of white tufts of hair against your chin. satoru’s body is curled close, one of his arms and his legs thrown over you.

it’s not the first time you’ve stayed overnight in gojo’s dorm room, but this is your first time staying over now that you’re a couple. it had been like any other night, but more meaningful touches and a shared buzz of warmth in your chests. and you had fallen asleep in his bed, entangled with his coziness.

but it’s morning now, and you know you should probably leave before yaga finds out you’re not in your own dorm. so somehow, you manage to wring yourself free from satoru’s grasp, even though he mumbles sleepily in complaint.

you can’t help but scoff fondly, peering down at him. his hands feel around in the space you had just been, a groan resonating from his chest as he blearily squints.

a small laugh creeps out of you then, “g’morning, ‘toru.” you bend down to brush your lips against his fleetingly, “i’ll see you in class later.”

when you leave his dorm and hear a soft ‘thud’, you think nothing of it. but it’s only a few steps down the hallway that you realize that you left your uniform jacket hanging on the edge of satoru’s bed.

so you head back, knocking twice on the door to let him know about your presence before opening it.

only to see that your boyfriend that you had left on the bed just moments ago was no where to be seen.

your brows furrow. “satoru? where are you?”

“up here, darling.”

and then your gaze flits up, up, up, just above the mattress. it’s gojo, on the ceiling, looking disheveled with his bed hair a mess, a sheepish grin on his lips.

“uhh, satoru?” you approach the bed, no longer concerned about your jacket as you stare up at him. “what’re you doing up there?”

he blinks down at you. “i woke up.”

you snort. “get down.”

“…i can’t.”

there’s a pause of silence, a period of staring at each other. you’re even more confused. “what do you mean you can’t?”

“i just can’t!”

it’s too early for this, and you’re sure that your chance of being discovered by yaga has shot up by a considerable amount.

“gojo satoru. just deactivate your technique.”

he pouts down at you. “you don’t think i tried that? i don’t know what happened, okay? i woke up from head-butting the ceiling, and even worse, to you gone without a word!”

it’s funny, how he’s much more upset about the fact that you had left him in bed alone rather than the fact that he’s stuck up there.

and it’s also really funny that he was sleepy enough that he didn’t remember you kissing him farewell not even five minutes ago.

“‘toru,” you laugh, shaking your head, “i said good morning and i kissed you.”

aaand now he remembers. he blinks once, twice.

“oh.”

and this time, you burst into a fit of giggles, to which gojo dopily grins down at you — happy that he’s the cause of it, even if it’s because he’s a little silly.

“i can’t believe you still floated even with you still half asleep.” you say, inching even closer to the bed and tilting your head further back to look up at him. “can you seriously not come back down?”

usually after he gets kissed, you or someone else is there to ground him before he floats off, and if not, he regains his composure soon after.

satoru’s pout deepens, fumbling and adjusting his awkward position on the ceiling. “nope.”

with a groan, you toe off your shoes and move to stand on the bed, hands grasping at his shirt and tugging in an attempt to bring him down.

“ugh, come on.”

you try with his hands next, and he’s all too eager to twine your fingers together as you tug on them too. he still isn’t budging.

“babe..” he starts, and you hear his cheeky grin before you see it, “think you needa kiss me again.”

you give him a pointed look. “and why in the world would that work?”

“c’mon, trust me,” satoru pries with a slight whine, “you did this, maybe you can undo it.”

you blink at him incredulously. “i did this? it’s not my fault you turn into a balloon every time i-” you shake your head when he does nothing but stare pleadingly. “fine, fine.”

you lean up on wobbly toes to give him the second kiss of this morning. it’s short but sweet all the same, and gojo chases after your lips as you pull away.

“see, i told you it wouldn-”

satoru yelps and crashes down on top of you, the two of you landing smack down on the bed.

you groan, trapped underneath his weight. at least you know now to be extra careful with your kisses. you can feel him nosing at the underside of your jaw teasingly.

“heh, good morning to you too, sweetheart.”

[winxanity-ii]

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

[salemlunaa]

IT’S ALREADY HAPPENED, YOU’VE ALREADY SHIFTED ᥫ᭡

you’ve been to the void, no matter what the 3D shows. everything is instant. there is no “trying”

To shift, you must take power away from the 3D, i don’t care what the 3D is showing you, and neither should you to properly shift you must resonate with the new reality you’ve created, your life isn’t shitty whatever you’re thinking about is your old story.

Once you created your new reality in your head, it was yours, and as soon as you imagined yourself there, you have shifted. Many of you ask me “how can i genuinely see my life as real instead of just an imagination” but what you fail to remember is that imagination IS reality. And you are either in that reality or you aren’t

There’s no such thing as “trial and error” for a god. There’s no “if”, “maybe” or “might”. You’re either there or you’re not, there’s no build up, everything is instant. As soon as you resonated with your new story, you were there, you ARE there

So stop it,

Stop liking videos of people talking about how it sucks to be ugly, because you have your dream face and you’re fucking gorgeous, you can’t relate.

Stop envying the rich, you’re one of them (if that’s what you want)

Stop getting jealous of that girl/boy with a good body, you have one too

Stop relating and resonating with those who call themselves “lonely”, you’re in your new reality where you have so many people who love you

You say you’re aligned with your new reality but you’re moping about how your life sucks, and emotions are always allowed, of course they are but how would you think if your dream life wasn’t a dream anymore?? what would your mindset be like? would you be liking that post of someone complaining that they have no money? would you be getting upset that your dream s/o has dating rumours with someone else? if you were grounded in your new story would you let all this other shit phase you?

misery loves company. don’t join the club, stop resonating with your shitty old story, break the cycle and shift

YOU’VE FUCKING SHIFTED, CONGRATS!! NOW ALLIGN YOURSELF WITH THE NEW STORY 🌺💋

[revasserium]

who's your favorite twst character so far? ^^

also can i be zella anon? i'm the anon who's been following your works since 2020 (haikyuu days) and i'm also a fan of twst after hq manga ended huhu ;-;

- zella

ofc u can be zella anon! <3 thanks so much for sticking with me for so long darling! it's been a journey, hasn't it u__u

hmmmm that's an interesting question, mostly because i'm only so far in the game and haven't gotten to know a lot of the actual cast yet. i've watched the japanese gameplay up to book 5 -- im right in the middle of the that right now. so i've met some of the pomefiore boiz, but i'm only on like chapter 7 so they're still quite mysterious lol.

i mean, i want to say idia just because i'm a huge fan of uchiyama kouki's voice LMFAO, and i like the hikikomori genius boi vibes he gives off, so my gut reaction when they had me pick a character in the beginning (the whole, take someones hand) thing, i picked him. and i feel like he has a distinct enough personality where even the bits of him we do see in the earlier chapters is quite... illuminating. also, his voiced lines are really funny.

but the ace and deuce duo are really. growing on me. esp ace. cause like. u just get to spend so much time with them? and so you get to see them grow? i do love me some character dev.

i like leona just cause he's fuckin gorgeous, isn't he lol.

so, i guess my answer is that i'm not entirely sure yet! gut feeling says idia, but ace and deuce are the real ones tbh lol.