#can you accidentally feel perceived by yourself... because honestly that would so be me in her place

[edennill-archived]

we are frost upon the window, we shan't pass this way again (443 words, G, Andreth)

Without a doubt, Andreth was proud. How could she not be? She was whip-smart and had known that since childhood. At four she read both alphabets, at seven she taught herself Haladin with only the aid of one woman who married into the House of Bëor, and was known to ask around slyly about the Forbidden Tongue. Adanel soon found teaching her often meant little more than asking the right questions, and she remembered everything. She was quick  and sharp-sighted, and beautiful in a striking way, the fitting child of a lordly house in more than just bearing. Her cousins complained no one should have as much of a good thing

Is it so strange then, that at fifteen she thought herself a marvel, that at sixteen the common illness of all youth that leads one think one has discovered everything worth knowing for the first time struck her with extraordinary might? For a while, if she had not been witty, she might have become insufferable.

Then she was seventeen and she saw the Eldar at near for the first time in five years.

When a child, she had been overawed in their company. They were bright, they were tall and great, their voices were fair, and their swords kept the enemy at bay. She had decided it must have been the glamour of youth in her eyes, later.

It had not.

She could hardly hold the gaze of those whose eyes held the light of Valinor, and it seemed at times as if it shone through their very skin. Her people had called her singing voice strong and clear, but there was power in theirs even as they spoke the simplest greetings. She could have listened enraptured for hours if not for envy.

But all this she could have borne, once the newness wore off. No, it was that at the age of seventeen, Andreth realised she was young, and that she would always be, in comparison. If she devoted her entire life to a single subject, she would never master it in a way that could compare. To them, all her thoughts, works, writings, would never be anything more than a child's clumsy art.

Maybe it is for this, that she threw herself headfirst into mystery, into the things no one knew, into the matter of Men and their fate, and cursed the curse upon mortals bitterly.

At seventeen, Andreth realised that the war would never be won in her lifetime, and she would never live long enough to find all the answers.

...Finrod once said that maybe they did not exist within the world... but then, that was just the sort of thing Finrod would say.

[lexsssu]

Inhuman (Adrian Tepes | Alucard)

TAGS: Alucard/Dragoness!reader, alternate universe, pining, sex pollen, morning after, breeding, impregnation, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Darkness is something many feared for it brought about horrors both real and imaginary to life. The cover of night hid that which screeched at the light of day and yet there is a certain stillness and calm found in the dark.

Adrian never felt that the dark was something to be afraid of, but rather a hidden peace and tranquility when one decides to walk about during the twilight hours.

All is still until a flash of bright light illuminated the landscape, revealing everything which once hid within the blanket of night for barely a second before gradually fading away.

Normally, the dhampir would have chalked it up as yet another one of nature’s great mysteries before trying to see for himself what caused it. Blame his loving parents who naturally nurtured his inquisitive nature.

However, before he could even step another foot forward he saw something falling from the sky and as it got closer to the ground, his eyes perceived an unmistakably human form.

He didn’t need to think for another second as his body rocketed upwards in a great leap, lean yet toned arms grasping the surprisingly soft and tiny figure. As the air whipped around him during his descent, he took his first good look as to who or what he decided to save in the first place.

The blonde’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat as he beheld what could only be an angel, a being of pure light within his embrace.

Your silken ivory hair crowns your head and drapes over your heart-shaped face gracefully, petal-like lips which gleamed with a soft pink sheen, eyelashes like lush crescents that seem to teasingly hide what he could only imagine to be the most beautiful jeweled orbs in the world, and a spattering of silvery-white scales that travel from said cheeks down to your neck and the rest of your body hidden beneath your bodice.

You are clearly inhuman.

And yet, never has Adrian felt more human than he did right now especially as your eyes flutter open and meet with his own mesmerized pair.

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

“...make sure to grind them thoroughly, my dear. They have to be a fine paste before we can proceed with the next step”

“Okay, Miss Lisa. I’ll do my best!”

“Feel free to just call me mother. I’ve seen you as a daughter from the moment my son brought you into our home and since my husband hasn’t given me any daughters...you’re the next best thing and I honestly couldn’t be any more grateful for your arrival in our lives.”

Hidden behind a tall shelf lined with various tomes and scrolls, the young man couldn’t help but take peeks at the two most important women in his life as they bonded with one another. His mother so easily took you under her wing when he brought you here and you weren’t averse to the motherly affections she directed at you.

Now if he could only be as forthright with his feelings as his mother and express himself to you, because you were clearly as dense as a rock and didn’t pick up any of the subtle hints he gave you about his intentions...

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

“If you’re really okay with someone like me...then please use me as much as you like,” with a red blush highlighting your soft cheeks, you try not to look at the flushed and heavily panting Adrian pinning you down upon his bed.

The dhampir had accidentally inhaled the pollen of some new plant you both came across while partaking in your regular walks together. It took effect immediately, the normally calm and composed blonde becoming so flustered and heated that you’d think he was running a fever with how much sweat dripped down his face.

The raging erection which tented at the front of his trousers told you everything you needed to know, however.

Even if it was only to help him, you don’t regret giving yourself to Adrian because you love him. Even after the effects wear off, you hope that you’ll still stay friends because you’ve grown to love this castle and all its wonders. But especially its inhabitants—

“While I would have preferred to put a ring on you first, I’m afraid that I’m at my limit...but I promise to properly wed you after this, my love.”

The night is a blur by the time you wake up the morning after. Hazy memories of soft and firm touches, wet and deep kisses, harsh grunts and pitiful mewls, and nails scratching against the skin of his toned back as your tight cunt is forced open by his lengthy cock. You don’t remember how many rounds you went last night, having lost count of the amount of times you felt him spraying his seed deep inside of you and how you oh so shamelessly tightened even further each time he painted your walls white.

“We must inform mother and father once they return from their little trip. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled at the news of our union...though perhaps I might be scolded for taking you to bed before the actual wedding…” Adrian chuckled, messy strands of blonde hair tumbling down his chest as he gazed down at you with his head propped up by his hand, all the while you seemed to have been using his chest as a pillow the whole time you were sleeping.

“A-Adrian…!” You squeak and sputter at his joke, blushing all the way to the tips of your ears which only seems to ignite the flames within the dhampir once more as he rolls himself on top of you.

“If you truly insist on seducing me yet again...I suppose it is simply a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife”

[cherubofthenight]

the fear of being perceived (the spotlight effect)

The spotlight effect is a term social psychologists use to refer to the tendency to overestimate how much other people notice about us. In other words, we tend to think there is a spotlight on us at all times, highlighting our mistakes or flaws for all the world to see.

I've struggled with social anxiety for much of my life, and while it's something I'm still working on, I decided to write on it. For as long as I can remember, I've been consumed with thoughts about what others might think of me—about how I looked, how I acted, even how I stood or moved (fear of judgment). I avoided doing certain things because I didn’t want anyone trying to get ideas about who I really was (fear of vulnerability). I would often judge myself before others could, and I still do this at times & if someone else accomplished something, I'd see its value, but if it were me, I’d brush it off as “something I should have known anyway” (perfectionism and self-criticism). I notice things others around me don’t—especially about myself—such as how I’m coming across, how I think others will react to what I do or say, and then replaying interactions in my head (overactive self-awareness). This constant worry was rooted in my childhood, in an environment that felt harshly judgmental. I saw people being criticized for the smallest things, and I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that even though I did. A lot.

So, I chose to blend in, to become a wallflower. I avoided speaking up and kept to the background, staying clear of loud or critical people. And if I couldn't avoid them, I did my best to please them to keep the peace. Though, I remember wanting to be like people who freely expressed themselves with minimal fear of being judged, and i longed to be like them.

So let's be real: we all want to be liked, loved, and perceived in a certain way. We all aspire to be that person—whether it's for ourselves or for others. When we don’t feel like we measure up, it can leave us upset, angry, or even depressed, often leading us to blame those around us.

The question is: what is your perception of yourself? How do you see yourself? What do you think of yourself?

Often, we may not like the answers, and that’s where the frustration sets in. This 'wallflower' space I've confined myself to is limiting. Activities I once enjoyed faded away due to my fear of judgment, and I struggled to find new interests. I started thinking, "This is so-and-so's fault. If they weren't selfish, judgmental, and focused on others' shortcomings because they disliked their own, I wouldn’t be like this." So yes, as a child, I definitely assigned blame, and a part of me still does, to be honest. But I know it’s my responsibility to become the person I want to be.

So, I decided to reinvent myself.

Yet, I faced numerous setbacks. There were times I forgot my goals, allowing my anger toward others to grow until I wanted to leave everyone behind.

Who was I really mad at?

Who am I mad at?

Who was the one actually thinking and saying these negative things about me?

me.

Otherwise, I just assumed that's what everyone else thought based on some bad experiences but I was the one who repeated these things over and over about myself. And more than half of the time, no one cared that much.

"An example of the spotlight effect can occur in everyday situations, like when you accidentally trip or stumble while walking in public. In that moment, you might feel like everyone around you is watching and judging you for your clumsiness. You may worry that people are laughing at you or thinking less of you. However, most onlookers are likely focused on their own activities and don’t even register what happened.

Once the moment passes, it’s likely that they won’t remember it at all. This experience highlights how we often overestimate the attention and scrutiny we receive from others, leading to unnecessary embarrassment or anxiety."

And honestly, no one cares, no one is looking at them like that. It’s all in their head. I wouldn't really give them a second thought if I even give them the first. But sometimes when I’m the subject of the situation, I don't see that. When I'm in a similar situation, I think just like them.

The truth is, I denied myself new experiences, standards, and boundaries. I’m the one who struggles to say no. I fear making friends out of concern for being taken advantage of. I accepted the labels that were placed on me.

"You're used to limiting yourself because the comfort that comes from blaming other people for your lack of dedication is easier than admitting that you have personal responsibility, and that the reason that you haven't done it is because you don't want to." - get over your fear of being seen (spotlight effect)

I had become too comfortable in this inferiority complex I created; it felt safe in the familiar, but I was scared to fail or disappoint others—or worse, myself. I didn’t know what I wanted in life, so I stayed put. Eventually, I realized I didn’t want to live like this forever. I didn’t find joy in it, and I never would. Slowly, I began to recognize my own value.

How I got here:

Acknowledging my strengths & accomplishments - by recognizing my achievements up until this point, helped me appreciate the effort I’ve put in and the skills I bring to the table, boosting my self-image. It’s a powerful reminder that I’m more capable than I realize.

Challenging negative self-talk - actively questioning and reframing unkind or self-critical thoughts. This practice helps break the cycle of negativity and encourages a more balanced, realistic view of yourself. Over time, this shift boosted my positivity and builds self-confidence, allowing me to approach more challenges with a stronger sense of self-assurance.

Practice self-compassion - treat myself with kindness and understanding, especially during tough times. Accepting that imperfections and mistakes are part of being human. Nurturing self-compassion strengthened my emotional resilience and fosters a healthier relationship with myself.

Set realistic goals and celebrate every success, no matter how big or small - recognizing your progress helps keep me motivated and boosts your confidence. So whether I tackled a big event or just managed to get through a challenging day, I take a moment to acknowledge those wins. Every step forward matters.

Seek out a support system - Connecting with people who uplift and encourage me, whether it’s friends, family, or a community group. Having a solid support network can make a significant difference. They can provide valuable advice, share their experiences, and help keep you motivated. Remember, you don’t have to face challenges alone—having others by your side can really enhance your journey!

To anyone who feels trapped in their own 'wallflower' existence: know that you are not alone. It’s okay to take your time in this journey. Change doesn’t happen overnight, but each step forward brings you closer to the person you want to be. Baby steps got me to the point I am today. I am way more open, way more confident, have more faith and belief in myself, I truly believe people who have any sort of relationship with me are lucky & all my imperfections contribute to my perfection, and I found the confidence to write and release this post. I’m now at a point of my life that if I insult myself, I feel really offended like why would I say that about myself?

Looking ahead, I aspire to keep growing, to continue shedding the labels that no longer serve me.

masterlist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hello, present your take on the “hero (or villain) getting used to their newly (accidentally acquired) powers, while being examined by Scientist/Civilian”

“Can you raise your arms?”

The hero did as instructed and the scientist looked strangely satisfied.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.” The hero stared at the other, trying to ignore the intimacy of the situation. The hero wasn’t wearing a shirt and the scientist had been touching their torso several times, examining their muscles and limbs. The scientist happened to be attractive. And quite controversial.

A long time ago, they had participated in…a few immoral experiments which had left everyone with a bitter taste in their mouth whenever their name was mentioned. However, they happened to have the biggest expertise when it came to people with superpowers.

“Any pain?”

“No,” the hero said quietly. They didn’t even dare to look at those piercing eyes. Sometimes, they cursed themselves for being embarrassed this easily.

“Alright, but don’t be surprised if it comes back.” The scientist’s fingers followed the hero’s left arm, going down all the way. Gently. Sweetly. “I’ve never seen someone like you. Your powers are violent and aggressive towards yourself. It’s like it’s feeding on your health.”

They looked at the hero and the hero’s heart skipped a few beats.

“You’re quite remarkable,” they said and the hero noticed that their hands were still on the hero’s forearm.

“I’m…I am afraid,” the hero answered. They picked up the shirt next to them, hand buried in the fabric. “I’ve been trying to understand my powers. I’ve been trying to understand teleportation but it’s difficult.”

“You feel overwhelmed, I understand that.”

The hero shook their head and put on the shirt.

“I’ve been having my powers for two months now and I still can’t control them,” they said. “I feel like I never will.”

The hero didn’t want to make the scientist feel like they were weak or searching for pity. It wasn’t that, no. But some lonely part of themselves wanted to hear the scientist’s reassurance.

“Look—” the scientist sat down next to them, one hand on the hero’s shoulder “—I don’t know much about your powers, yet. But I can reassure you, everything will be fine. We will figure this out.”

“What if I die? What if I teleport on top of a mountain or into the depths of the sea? What if I start teleporting so much that my nose and my organs start bleeding? What if this kills me tomorrow?”

The scientist’s hands were cold when they — once again — followed a vein on the hero’s forearm.

“We’ve been making progress. Two months ago, I had that fear, too. That you would disappear and never come back again. I remember driving for three hours to pick you up because you couldn’t teleport back. But now there’s a pattern. You teleport when you’re having nightmares or when you’re having lots of anxiety.” The scientist cleared their throat. “We’re putting more focus on how to deal with that.”

“Do you think it’s working?” the hero asked. They had honestly no idea how to perceive their progress.

“I think you’re doing amazing, yes.” The hero looked down at their feet, not sure how to handle that praise. They didn’t know what this relationship was, they didn’t even know what it could be.

“Can you sleep with me again tonight?” they asked. Just sleeping. Nothing else.

“Of course, darling.”

The hero didn’t have any nightmares that night.

[streettealee]

Some thoughts

Morpheus is kind. I know a lot of folks say he isn’t or he is but only to those who matter, but... hear me out: he’s the personification of dreaming. He’s literally king of The Dreaming. And we see time and time again how kind he is. And how powerful.

I remember watching about the first half of the season - or, say, the very first few episodes - and thinking “wow, maybe some of these characters are right, dreams do seem pretty useless.” That’s where I realised, at first, the kindness. The kindness of a pleasant dream while you die in your sleep to ease a horrible suffering. The sort that perhaps not many understand. But it is still a kindness in the only way Morpheus can do. I thought he was still sort of weak then, but kind. He could do this for people. Give them peace and temporary joys.

Morpheus genuinely seems to mourn Lyta’s loss, as much as she and her accidental involvement in The Dreaming due to the vortex damaged his realm. Now, I haven’t read the comics or graphic novels, so I don’t know anything beyond Netflix’s first season so far. It is with regret that he has to send back the ghost of Lyta’s husband and tell her she could not come to The Dreaming pursuing a life in it anymore. In the moment, it feels horrible, but he lets her keep the baby, I think, as one last favour. The idea that he was cruel in stating the baby belonged to him because it was conceived in The Dreaming and that he would come for it (unknown when) is fair, and maybe it would be perceived as a twisted sort of kindness. And unless I’m mistaken, he did not specify when he would take the child. He may yet either change his mind or retrieve this child much later down the track after a full life (you can argue with me on this as I’m not entirely sure about any background lore or if I’m forgetting something from the episodes). But I consider this another demonstration of the kindness that he is allowed to show, that follows the rules of dreams.

As an aside, I think that’s pretty incredible, the way the writers were able to convey the subtlety of Dream’s power. There are rules, of course, that the Endless seem to follow, but also limitations for each of their purposes (Death can only deal in death, Dream only with dreams, Desire with desire, and so on). This has all probably been said before, I didn’t dig deep enough yet, but I still wanted to express my admiration and awe over all this.

Anyway, back to subtleties and power and small acts of kindness. It wasn’t until Morpheus, Dream, was facing down Lucifer Morningstar in Hell that I really understood his power. At first, I was very afraid for him, because I also did not see how Dream could win out against all that Hell represents, no matter if Dream also includes nightmares. (Honestly, the episode title ‘A Hope In Hell’ should have been a dead giveaway for me, but hush, I was thinking of a song by that title instead at the time.) Of course, there was Matthew’s kind of cheesy line that “dreams don’t fucking die”, and then Morpheus’ winning move against Lucifer was “hope” which is very much the essence of dreams that I really understood the level of his power. Hope is what persists, as is famously known to do so with teeth bare and knuckles bloody, and maybe it was simple but it really hit me then. There is a lot that can be done to crush hope, but look to yourself: even in the most hopeless points of your life, there are dreams. A dream of something better, something different, something else, something full of revenge maybe, something that is beautiful and soul-saving - whatever it is, I believe, there will always be that. There will always be a hope in hell. And I know I’m just spelling out the whole idea behind that episode, but the simple power of hope, and the kindness of dreams giving that hope to you - the kindness of Dream himself - is pretty fucking powerful.

Perhaps Morpheus was not always this way. We hear from many characters that he has changed since his containment. We hear often, too, that he is selfish. But there is so much commentary from others about who he is, what he’s like, his true ugly self and yet... all I see is kindness. The kindness, perhaps, that these otherworldly only know how to do. They do not know of human acts of kindness as they do not have the luxury of being human. But they understand a sort of mercy. And gentleness. We see many struggling to understand over the course of the show that the Endless only exist because of humans, and we see Morpheus learn this, and that is perhaps where he finds this deep respect that fosters his kinder side.

Nightmares are awful. But Dream removes those too for those who do not deserve the torture of them in the show. If I recall correctly, he does at one point address nightmares as being challenges that dreamers have to face to overcome their fears, and it is in that way he is trying to do them a favour. For he also works in revelations too, to aid in a dreamer’s understanding. But when a nightmare is focused on a trauma or horrible event, we see Morpheus provide comfort where he can and, in some cases, remove these nightmares. We can also see him alter people’s entire perspectives too, through various means, and again, I am just amazed at this subtle power. He does not have to use thunder and lightning like some god, he does not have to hold a knife to anyone’s neck, he does not have to speak very loud at all or deliver threats of dismemberment. No, he works in smaller ways. And I absolutely love that.

Look, I’ve only done one watch through over the course of three days. There’s probably a ton I’m missing and this is just the very on-the-nose, tip of the iceberg sort of thing. There’s probably stuff I’m forgetting, background things I don’t know, and overall, this is probably just a very basic look at obvious key themes. Whatever. The point of this was to express my excitement and enthusiasm for this new discovery I’ve made. I think this show is brilliant in so many ways. Morpheus is a fascinating character. I have a feeling him and this story will be on my mind for a while.

[finelinens1994]

Hey, about your media literacy post—which was very well done—I totally agree that we sort of unable to trust other users or institutional opinions right now. So the way I see it, the option left to us that is to learn to trust ourselves. Learn to pay attention to the way truth feels when we ourselves say it (on any topic, especially the tiny ones), what it sounds like, and what untruth feels like when we also say it (the instances where we say things we don’t mean). A focused study of truth in ourselves makes it easy to recognise in others and other situations.

For example, I’ll now know when my answer to a maths/logical question is wrong, because it feels/sounds like not the truth, even if it’s what I have logically deduced and therefore ‘should’ be right. So then I’ll know to stop and rethink until I do find the right answer, I’ll realise my logical thinking was off, which I recognise because it feels like the truth when I see it. (This is all easy to prove because they’re all maths / logic questions, for example. It works. And then extrapolate this concept.)

It’s interesting that in the past many would have dismissed this approach due to its seeming lack of objectivity—but it is glaringly obvious now that trying to form an opinion based off ‘objective’ evidence is just not going to be possible (and I’d argue, it never was). So, this is my approach of some tools to which to turn. Honestly, it’s the only way out that I see. Increasingly I am realising truth is not a set of facts, which can be easily manipulated, or which are scientific fact one day and not the next, but rather this total calm knowing which goes beyond all need for argument. I feel like if you can just calmly smile in an argument rather than argue back, you’re probably closer to the truth.

i debated a lot about whether or not i should post this message at all but it might be a good thing to talk about, so i'll post it for now

the thought process you described here has the potential to be really unbelievably dangerous, so i hope you can try to hear me out here. the truth "feeling" like the truth is such an incredibly subjective thing and is 100% vulnerable to your own biases. at one point in my life, the "truth" according to my feeling was... just not true at all. the "truth" according to my feelings was that transgender people were mentally ill and just needed some sympathy and help in order to get better. i genuinely felt this, and, like you described, it felt true and right. it was not true or right, though; my perceived "truth" was not truth at all, it was just ignorance entirely influenced by my own biases and fears. the way of thinking you described in your message is exactly what leads people to believe that their thoughts borne of ignorance are true and right, no matter what, because they feel right. of course they feel right! ignorance is comfortable! you could absolutely debate the validity of objective truth as a concept, but purely functioning on a vibes-based moral and ethical system is just accidentally giving yourself permission to remain ignorant or bigoted.

i apologize if my original post wasn't clear enough, as i said, i was just writing out my thoughts unedited! i wasn't trying to say that since there is no way to verify information anymore, we should just give up and go with our guts. i was saying that information is becoming increasingly more difficult to verify, so i'm nervous about the future of education and information gathering. i don't have a proposed solution, i'm just expressing fears that are widespread nowadays. a possible solution to this frankly existential issue is something i think about a lot, and i'm glad to see many others thinking about it too.

hopefully this makes sense, and hopefully it prompts you to reflect on your philosophy about your relationship with truth!

[sea-lestial-dream-witch]

Hiii i was wondering if you could teach me about sea witchcraft, and/or divination or intuition. i am a pisces so i feel like it is meant for me.

Hi, there! Welcome to the witch club🔮✨

My first suggestion to you is that if you are truly interested in sea witchcraft, divination and intuition, you need to do some research. This is the most important step - you cannot rely on the knowledge of others. Find out what speaks to you and what resonates with you. Look online, buy books or go to the library.

To explore sea witchcraft, I suggest you commune with the sea or ocean if possible. Go visit the beach and feel the sand beneath your feet, breathe as the waves rise and fall. Think of how everything is connected. Shells, bones and fossils break down into the sand we walk on. Think of the immensity of time, think of your place in the universe. Center yourself. Most importantly, thank nature and thank the ocean/sea before you leave, and be respectful while you are there.

You can also collect sea water or a small amount of beach sand and utilize this in your craft: in spellwork, make a salt circle with sand, allow the sea water to evaporate and scrap up the sea salt, cleanse crystals (some crystals dissolve in salt so do research). Do not take shells - respecting nature and all the ecosystems is arguably the biggest part of communing with nature.

I love to visit the beach at night because I feel very connected to the moon, as many sea witches do. Consider what about the sea/ocean calls out to you.

As for divination, I would again recommend research first to see which forms of divination stand out to you. Try using a crystal, or water, or a pendulum when you are ready to begin divination.

And keep in mind that protection is crucial in witchcraft regardless of what you do. You must shield yourself from unwanted energies.

In terms of intuition, a lot of it is about trusting your gut feeling and being in tune with your emotions and senses. Try shadow work prompts. Shadow work is “working with your unconscious mind to uncover the parts of yourself that you repress and hide from yourself.”

Now, be wary of magical thinking. Don’t assume you can magically read minds or know what everyone thinking. This can make you vulnerable to self-sabotage because you get into a mindset where your behavior is altered by how you perceive others around you. You perceive that their thoughts are negative so in turn you act differently.

Honestly, as someone who is intuitive, my goal is never to get into someone’s mind, rather, it just happens. My mom is the same way. We subconsciously pick up on the subtle things, like a shift in someone’s tone of voice or a change in their expression. My mom and I have both spooked people by basically accidentally guessing things, in good detail, too.

Not everyone is intuitive. If this doesn’t apply to you or resonate with you, (anyone reading this) that’s okay! You have other strengths you’ve yet to discover. This is a lifelong journey.

My biggest tips are: don’t force anything, don’t get hung up on outcomes. Perform your craft with a calm focus, and trust the process. Trust in what is meant to be. If you are doing divination or spellwork but you doubt every step, you doubt your abilities, you question the outcome - you are not only holding yourself back, but you are also literally blocking the outcome you desire.

If one thing doesn’t work or feels forced, shift your focus and move on. If you try divination over and over and it just feels unnatural, simply move on. Focus on what makes you feel good and what you feel connected to, what makes you feel grounded.

Regardless of what you do, protection is imperative.

Remember, this is a journey and there is always more to learn. No one has all the answers or all the knowledge.

Hit me up if you need clarification on the above or if you have more questions :)

🌊sea star witch🌟

[professorbussywinkle]

My unpopular opinion as a trans person, is if you are trans...

...and you feel this need to be constantly propped up by external validation from other people around you all the time...

...and if the second that external validation is not there you feel like your world is going up in flames and you'll never recover from it cuz you felt your identity was invalidated somehow...

...then I'm sorry, you don't have a strong sense of conviction in your own identity, and trust, imma be so real with you rn, the people who already dont wanna respect you, who are already looking to cut someone down like that cuz they miserable, can easily sense that in you and will undoubtedly exploit it if you let them cuz it makes them feel powerful...don't give them that satisfaction, a mf like that clearly don't deserve it

And I don't think misgendering is this all caps, red-alert, human rights violation that some trans people make it out to be

I am the sole purveyor holding all acute insights about myself and my identity, other people outside of me can not and never will have that acute and valuable insight, so how other people perceive me, or how they choose to adresss me, regardless of my own preferences, frankly...does not concern me in the slightest like...why would I let some mf tell me about myself as if I somehow already didn't know myself more intimately than they ever could?? How could their minor surface level perceptions hold a greater weight than my own deep and measured insight about myself??

Y'all, shit from a mf like that will never hold that weight to me, because I know exactly what I am, and I value it highly and hold my knowledge of myself in the highest of regards, that's my power, and that's my peace and it comes from a divine source...

...and I don't blame y'all for this, but some of y'all don't have that conviction, and thats why y'all be getting your assholes twisted in knots from being misgendered and invalidated, and honestly if you don't know exactly what and who you are...

...Then thats also totally fucking fine too!

I applaud anyone who has the nerve to trudge inside themselves as intimately as trans people do, in order to live a happier and more fulfilling life, and in the aim of actualizing yourself to your highest capacity

But y'all...I guarantee you, if you aren't sure, and you straight out the gate let people know you ain't figure it out all the way yet, anyone who actually gives enough of a fuck about you to try and exert repeated conscious effort to respect you in the ways you're asking to, is always gonna be worth having in your corner, and actually they will respect you more and appreciate your humility and grace for working with them, even if they don't get it right 100% of the time.

Oh and also...choosing to get pissed off, defensive, or lashing out, and forcing people to feel like they gotta walk on eggshells around you for the fear they're gonna accidentally unintentionally trigger you in some way is actually a form of emotional abuse, and maybe you shouldn't do that, especially to the ones that give enough of a damn to even try being there for you in that type of way in the first place, hmm??

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hey it’s, 🍖🥩

You did answer me with some good stuff, I think my point was someone was trying to accuse me of being a bully by interpreting the situation in a way that made me look like a bully and they said I have to respect their feeling bc they get to interpret it how they want bc they’re the victim?

I honestly never tried to bully anybody I don’t think so… and it’s making me extremely scared to open my mouth or engage with others for the fear that they can interpret my actions or intentions any way they feel especially if they said I hurt their feelings shouldn’t I not object and apologize to them? That’s usually the right thing to do…

The way they see the event I guess I could easily see why they thought they way they did about it… but it just didn’t make sense to me and I don’t know if I fully trust myself or my motives but I would never intentionally harm somebody.

Hey 🍖🥩,

I'm glad I could help answer your questions. It sounds like the situation you're describing could be more in the realm of manipulation, DARVO specifically, which is when the abuser paints themselves as the victim and the true victim as the abuser.

If someone says you hurt their feelings, it's not necessarily something you can disagree with because it's simply the way they feel. If you're upset, no one can tell you that you're not. But it can be hard to discern from someone genuinely communicating their feelings and someone weaponizing their feelings. Weaponizing emotions refers to the act of intentionally using one's emotions as a means to gain control, manipulate others, or to justify one's actions. It involves manipulating or distorting emotions in order to shape the narrative of a situation, often for personal gain or to maintain a position of power.

At the end of the day it's impossible not to say the wrong thing and hurt someone every now and then, but as long as you own up to your mistakes and hold yourself accountable, you have nothing to worry about. It's a human thing to make mistakes and accidentally hurt someone and you don't deserve to feel horrible or paranoid for it.

It's understandable how experiencing this may be affecting you. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help you process this experience and find healthy ways to perceive yourself and your actions in lieu of what happened.

I hope I could help and as always we're here if you need anything.

-Bun

[stopeatingwhales]

particles x damon albarn

the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness

Pairing: present day damon x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.881

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.

I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.

“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.” he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.

“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”

“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.

“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”

“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”

Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.

When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”

As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.

Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”

[delicioussshame]

In the never ending series of “things that aren’t wips because I can’t, I have to finish something before starting something else”, have this thing I posted as a wip before, featuring a version of PIDW where LBH collected his harem... differently, with guest star NYY.

Luo Binghe immediately recognises the man dressed in cultivator garb as Yingying’s shizun.

Beautiful and serene, she said. The perfect image of an untouchable immortal, dressed in white and pale greens. Always holding a fan of exquisite manufacture.

But more than her vivid descriptions of her shizun’s loveliness, he remembers what she said next.

She’d been lying on her side, her long cascading hair not managing to hide her luscious curves.

Luo Binghe had known she wouldn’t be ready for another round just yet, and so had been pleased to listen to her lighthearted pillow talk.

Today’s topic had been her exasperation with her shizun’s lack of sex life.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how obtuse he is. Liu-shishu has been courting him for years, and I don’t think he ever noticed. And don’t get me started on the sect master! All Shizun would have to do is bat his eyelashes and the sect master would drop everything to worship him! But no, he never takes him on it. For a while I thought maybe Shizun just preferred women, but more than one female disciple has tried her hand at him, all to no avail.”

Luo Binghe could imagine the type. Cultivators could be lofty. They think they’re above the needs of the flesh.

He always enjoys teaching them how wrong they are.

If the demonic part of his heritage revels in desecrating those pompous righteous cultivators, no one else could tell. Luo Binghe was too good at his chosen hobby to let his personal feelings interfere.

“I love and respect Shizun more than anyone. Without him, I would never have become the kind of cultivator who can afford A-Luo’s company. So I am motivated by filial piety and nothing else when I say that I have never met anyone who needs to get laid more than Shen Qingqiu.”

Luo Binghe had laughed. “Oh? Is Yingying going to replace me with her old teacher?”

Her scandalised look had sent him into another bout of laughter. “A-Luo! I would never!”

“Then why is she telling me this? Does she want me to take care of him?”

Ning Yingying had stared at him, a glint in her eyes. Luo Binghe could see the plans form in her head as she spoke. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would do wonders for Shizun, and I know A-Luo loves breaking people like him.”

Luo Binghe had blinked, inwardly caught off-guard. He wasn’t blind. He knew Ning Yingying was a lot more observant than she appeared. It wasn’t the first time she had made that kind of comment. “Yingying knows me so well. Should I be worried?”

She had swapped at him. He could have easily evaded the blow, but he didn’t bother. “A-Luo doesn’t have anything to fear from me. But honestly, if I sent Shizun your way, would you take care of him? I really think he could benefit from it. And Shizun is very beautiful! Many will definitely be jealous if they ever find out.”

Luo Binghe had nothing against the idea of taking a peak lord to bed. He bet Xin Mo would love to feed on such high-quality cultivation. “I would be honored to entertain your teacher.”

He could tell from the way she had brightened he was about to be thoroughly thanked.

She had paid him too, both for herself and for her shizun’s future visit. Generously enough that Luo Binghe had wondered if he should praise her filial piety to her shizun.

She didn’t lie either. Shen Qingqiu really is exquisite.

Not as handsome as Luo Binghe himself, but nobody is. “You must be Shen Qingqiu.”

“Luo Binghe, I presume.” Luo Binghe cannot quite decipher the look he’s being given, which is rare enough to catch his attention. He’s pretty certain there’s some attraction there, but the rest? Trepidation? Outright fear? Disdain? Excitement?

He’s sure he’s going to find out. He gestures for Shen Qingqiu to sit down as he moves to prepare tea. He could have one of his servants handle it, but Luo Binghe has always preferred taking care of things himself. That personal touch has seduced more than one client, if they didn’t visit him only for his food.

Shen Qingqiu drinks the offered tea in silence before he starts talking. “If you would please tell me your fee, I will be refunding Ning Yingying a corresponding amount. I am sorry for wasting your time, but I have no interest in procuring your services.”

Ooh, that’s cute. If Luo Binghe wasn’t an expert at perceiving the signs of physical attraction, he might even believe him. Shen Qingqiu is interested, he’s sure of it. He’s just a prude, like Yingying said. “Yingying won’t accept it. Why refuse her most thoughtful gift?”

“My disciple should put her money to better uses.”

“I assure you, employing me is money well spent. You could find that out yourself.”

Luo Binghe bites back his amusement as the man stumbles, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t… a credit to your profession. Please don’t take it personally. As I said, I have no interest in finding out myself.”

“But how will it look if you were to leave without finding out? My reputation will be hurt.”

“How could something this insignificant hurt the reputation of such a famous courtesan?”

Luo Binghe grins. “So even renowned cultivators have heard of me? Nothing bad, I hope?” And where did an isolated scholar like him caught wind of such lowbrow rumours, huh?

The sigh he’s answered with does not cloak a hint of amusement. “How many of the sect’s disciples have you seduced? You even managed to steal away Liu-shidi’s little sister, whose beauty and virtu are known across the land. Of course I have heard of you. More than I would have liked, if I am allowed to be honest.”

Ah. He should probably have expected that. Cang Qiong is full of eager young men and women. Apparently, Shen Qingqiu isn’t such a recluse that gossip doesn’t reach him. “I see. Still, you must have heard good things, or you wouldn’t have come into my parlour.”

Red is a good look on the man. Luo Binghe feels the first stirrings of desire rise into him. He just knows Shen Qingqiu would be stunning, lying despoiled on those formerly pristine robes, trying to discover what he’s begging for more of.

Not to mention he can almost hear Xin Mo purr. What a feast Shen Qingqiu will be.

Time to press on.

Luo Binghe reaches for the now empty cup of tea he’s certain Shen Qingqiu drained without tasting, making sure to caress the fingers still holding it with a touch just light enough to possibly be accidental, if one were very dumb or very blind. “Let me serve you again,” he says as he pours more tea with deliberate grace.

Instead, Shen Qingqiu rises from the table. “Don’t bother! I am obviously wasting your valuable time. If you won’t share with me how much Ning Yingying paid you, I will compensate her otherwise.”

Like Luo Binghe is letting him leave like this. “Would you have me waste the tea already prepared?”

“Drink it yourself! Surely it’s nothing compared to your usual breaches of propriety.”

Damn it. Luo Binghe miscalculated. Shen Qingqiu is too spooked to be open to further advances. Really, what a prude, to be so destabilised by a simple brush of hands.

If he can take a step back and defuse the tension enough for him not to leave… “You seem in such a hurry. Do you think I force myself on my visitors? I’m hurt.” As if he ever needed to use force to have someone.

Well, never without their consent, at least.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem like he’d be into that, but then again, people can surprise you.

“I’m not scared! I just have no reason to be here any longer. Thank you for your time. I’ll be leaving my student in your care.” For a moment, there’s a glower in his eyes that Luo Binghe wouldn’t mind seeing more of. “Be good to her, or my next visit will be far less pleasant.”

Aww. Shen Qingqiu cares! How cute. “So I have to get a bit rough if I want to see you again?”

His outraged face almost makes him laugh. “Don’t you dare!”

“Or are you looking for an excuse for our paths to cross again? I assure you it’s unnecessary. I’d welcome you anytime.”

“I will keep that in mind,” says Shen Qingqiu absentmindedly, already crossing the door.

Luo Binghe lets him leave. Obviously, this will be going nowhere today.

Really, he’s offended. He cannot remember someone rejecting him so blatantly, ever. Worse, Xin Mo will be cranky. A treat was dangled in its metaphorical face, and then was cruelly taken away before it could have a taste.

He can’t let this humiliation stand.

He won’t have to. The delicate fan Shen Qingqiu came with, red spider lilies on a stark white background, is still on the table, forgotten in his haste to leave.

Luo Binghe’s customer service is impeccable. He’ll be returning the abandoned item himself.

It’s not like finding the peak lord of Qing Jing will be a challenge.

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o acting sexy, but being cute or unnatural instead

❦ Genre: Fluff, a little bit suggestive.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3K4.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

HONGJOONG

Your boyfriend went to the supermarket to find some snacks. He was producing since 7AM without a break. When you joined him, you practically begged him for to rest a bit. So now, you were alone in his big studio, wondering if you had been enough clear about the food you wanted. Bored and hungry, you looked around, trying to find at least a chewing-gum to stop your belly from growling crazily. When finally, a red paper sheet, caught your attention. It was not your type to read Hongjoong's stuff, but this one was titillating your curiosity.

When you made sure that you were completely alone, no camera around, you grabbed the paper. The moment, you realized the explicit lyrics on it, you couldn't help but to compare your shy actions with your boyfriend. Does he want you to act like this? But the real question was: could you do it?

When you heard footstep in the hallway, you put back down everything, and ran on the red couch. "I'm back babe." Said Hongjoong, smiling at you, not suspecting you at all. For you, it was a sign. The right moment to act. He would never expect this from you.

"Oh already! I missed you." You replied, biting your lip messily. Hongjoong raised a brow, not understanding what was going on in your head. "I left 10 minutes ago. Only." You stood up, trying to roll your hips as much as you could. "That's already too much." "Are you okay sweetheart? You look... different?" He asked when you back hugged him, pushing your chest right on his back. You roamed your hands on his abs to his belt. "I-I'm trying to make you feel good." The way your voice cracked and how your hands were tickling more than it should, Hongjoong turned around, trying to not laugh. "Y/N. Stop." He held your wrists. "I don't know why you are trying to do but it doesn't feel right." "I saw the lyrics on the red paper sheet." You said, without thinking twice about the consequences. "Oh." He paused. "Oh." He realized when he finally understood the situation. "Do you want me to be sexier with you?" "Babe that's just lyrics. Inspired by movies, music and you of course." He tried to reassure you. "Don't act sexily like this. Don't change anything, you are perfect. And you were cuter than hotter honestly." You could have been offended, but it felt like a compliment. "Okay." You pouted. "Let's eat before I end by being the meal." He teased you. You slapped his shoulder completely flustered. "Stop!" "I'm joking!" He laughed. "And you are sexy the most when you don't try to be." "Can we change the subject?" You rolled your eyes, looking for your meal. "I can't believe you tried to be sexier because of these lyrics." He busted in laughs, once again.

SEONGHWA

You've been a bit confused the last week. Seonghwa invited his friend one night. To not bother them, you stayed in the bedroom most of the time. You didn't complain, watching your favorite movie with Chinese food was all you needed. Just one time, you got out of the room to find something to drink. Before entering the living-room, where your boyfriend and his friends were, you heard one of them asking which type of girls Seonghwa was usually attracted to in high school. "Well... I can't really remember because I was mostly focused on practicing and studying." He replied. "Come on, you can’t remember your old taste?" Insisted one. "Hum... I was into sexy girls at that time. Like these ones who know what they're doing." He winked.

Since then, you couldn't stop to think about it. You were not really what we can say "sexy", just normal or cute most of the time.

Motivated to show Seonghwa what you were capable of, you asked advices to your friends and elaborated a complete plan. "Y/N! I'm here!" Greeted your boyfriend, locking the door behind him. "Oh wow, it smells so good." Seonghwa walked in the kitchen, curious to see what you were cooking. Gently, he pecked your cheek before asking: "Lasagnas? Are we celebrating something?" "I don't know... I just wanted to eat this." You started. "Or I would eat you instead." Seonghwa chocked with his saliva, not expecting you to say something like this. Proud of this reaction, you winked. Even though you tried to act the sexiest possible, it had the opposite effect. When you saw the light smile on his face, you were wondering if you should go to the next level. Not thinking twice, you dipped your finger in the tomato sauce before licking it, suggestively, in front of your boyfriend. "You cute." Whispered Seonghwa, patting the top of your head. "Cute?!" You repeated, confused. "Yeah?" "I was trying to be sexy!" You put your hands on your hips. "Yeah, but the sauce dripping off your chin makes you look cuter than sexy." He smiled, before heading to the bathroom. "Shit." You mumbled, wiping the sauce nervously. "If you act like this because of what I've said 2 weeks ago... stop thinking about it. I was a simple teenager." He yelled from the other room. "So, you are not really into sexy girls?" You yelled back. "No. I'm into you idiot." He replied, before closing the door. You smirked happily. "Well... that's everything I needed to know."

YUNHO

The whole day, you acted suggestively with your boyfriend. He noticed and counted how many times you bit your lip or whispered casual talks right in his ear. Of course, he was affected by your action, he was a simple man. But most of the time, he found you cute. Like right now, you were at the theater and your hand was resting on his thigh the entire time. The only times you were removing it, was when you rushed to plunge your hand on the popcorn pack just to touch his hand. Yunho tried several times to suppress the laugh coming from his throat. He ignored if you were doing this on purpose or just because your period week was coming. "Should we go to our favorite restaurant after the movie?" You suggested, whispering right in his ear, hand on his chest. Yunho glanced at you, trying to perceive the reason of your actions, but nothing, not the usual lust sparkles in your eyes when you are on your period. "Sure, if you are still hungry after this giant pot of popcorn." He smiled. "I'll be. But I have other plans for the dessert." You winked before turning your face to the giant screen. Your boyfriend couldn't leave his eyes from you, wondering where this sudden libido was coming from. After the movie, you walked 15 minutes until the restaurant. Inside of you, you were trying to know how you could prove him that you were the sexiest girl ever. Just before finishing the main meal, you decided to attack again. As he was resuming how went his last week, you slowly passed your foot on his legs, trying to excite him as possible. The only thing you didn't know was that you were kicking him more than anything. Yunho spotted too, the flustered look on your face. You were focusing on your mission. "Babe." A laugh escaped from his lips. "You are hitting me." "Huh?! I'm sorry!" You put your foot down, worried. "It's okay," he giggled. "But what's got into you?" "Oh, so you noticed." You hid your face behind your hands, completely ashamed. "You are really asking me if I noticed that you almost jumped on me as if I was the last hamburger in the fridge?" He held your hand on the table. "I'm just trying to add spiciness to our relationship." You sighed. "We don't need that Y/N. We are all fine and I won't get bored." He tried to reassure you. "Really?" Yunho nodded, trying to comfort you. "Okay then." You smiled. "So... we are all good now?" "Yeah." "Good." He rubbed his thumb on your hand. "But can you remove your foot in the middle of my legs now?" "Oops. Habits." You shrugged.

YEOSANG

You really thought that Wooyoung recommendation was just another action movie. Until the main actress started to make out or act suggestively with everyone, she was close to. Of course, you had no problem with that. It just made you wonder if you could act like this with Yeosang. You were not officially in a relationship, yet, but you were acting like one. At the next hot scene, you glanced at him. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, looking every actress' moves. For sure, he liked what he was watching to. Maybe you should give it a try. You had nothing to lose except your ego. But what if he laughs so much that you become insecure?

Yeosang looked at you weirdly when you slapped your forehead to erase these stupid thoughts. "You... okay?" "Yeah! I just need something to drink." You threw the blanket off and almost ran to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water but didn't find any clean glasses on the cupboard. Was it a sign? You stared at the bottle and guessed if you could do something with. "Did you find water? I think that's all we have left." Said Yeosang.

"It's my time to shine, you thought."

You walked back to the living-room, bottle in the hand. "It's pretty hot here no?" You faced yourself with your free hand before tugging on the collar of your shirt. "I'm okay, but you can open the window, I don't mind." Not adding anything else, you opened the bottle and sipped into it. When you made sure Yeosang was looking, you poured 'accidentally' water on you, especially down on your chest. "The hell Y/N!" Gasped Yeosang, grabbing a pack of tissue. "Argh sorry! I'm so messy." You pouted, grabbing a tissue to wipe your chest. Yeosang stopped on his track. "Am I dreaming, or you are trying to act like her?" He pointed at the TV screen. You rolled your eyes. He was too smart. "I failed right?" "Completely." He smiled. "But nice try, that was cute." "I wasn't trying to be 'cute'." You air quoted, sitting down on the couch. "You need to practice, to be at my level of sexiness." He added proudly. "Shut up Kang Yeosang." "Sure. Cutie." He laughed.

SAN

"Hello bonobos!" You greeted the whole group when you entered the practice-room. "For the 1601st time Y/N-" Started Wooyoung. "We are not bonobos." You said at the same time. "I know Woo. I'm just teasing you because I know you hate that." "San, get your girl before I say something I regret." "Babe stop teasing him or he's going to explode." Giggled San. "That's why it's fun." "What are you doing here by the way? I thought I was the one supposed to come over?" "I wanted to practice a bit. With you." You said removing your jacket. Honestly, you wanted to see how your boyfriend would react if you dance sexily in front of him. To not be too suspicious, you wore a simple sweatpants but choose a really light and short croc-top. "So, what we are practicing today?" You asked, ignoring San's stare on you. "Thanxxx." He replied, brow narrowed. "Okay, let's go." You smiled, completely confident. You positioned on the side, behind the whole group to not bother them. When the music started, you tried your best to exaggerate every facial expression, every move, every body roll to get your boyfriend's attention. You caught him looking at you, times to times, but he didn't say a thing, too professional for that. For the breakdown part, you were freestyling as Hongjoong and Mingi while they are rapping. You tried to match San's facial expression, but it seemed so unnatural for you that you were tripping and wincing messily. The whole scene caused San to bust in laughter. Everybody looked at him. "Sorry." He apologized, hands covering his mouth. "But Y/N, you are too cute behind." You raised a brow. "You are trying so hard to be sexy, but it feels not right." He continued. A bit mad, you rolled your eyes and sat on the chair next to you. Still giggling a bit, San walked to you. "Don't be mad." He kneeled in front of you. "You wanted to surprise me? It's a success." "But I did it wrong." "Don't try to act like someone you are not." He held your hands. "But you do it all the time!" You sighed. "I just wanted to prove you that I can be sexy too." "I was impressed! Your dancing skills are really good now. And with the 'cutie' side, it was the cherry on top." You hide your face on the crock of his neck, "oh please... what a shame."

MINGI

"Candles ok. Music ok. Champagne ok." You checked all the things on your list. You made sure everything was ready for your night with Mingi. One last time, you checked at your reflection on the mirror. You applied a last layer of this red lipstick making sure it made your lips more desirous and kissable. "Y/N! You there?" Shout out your giant boyfriend. "Why is this so dark?" "I'm in the bedroom love!" "Are you sleeping already?" He asked, walking to the room. When he spotted the atmosphere in the bedroom, he stayed quiet. Ignoring how to react. "Is someone dead?" You raised a brow, how he could compare this atmosphere to funerals? "I know how stressed you were this week, so I wanted to help you out." You slid his jacket off him. "Oh my!- Your hands are so cold!" He complained. "Then remove your clothes by yourself and lay on the bed. On the stomach." "What are you planning?" "I'm just trying to help you. Lay down!" "Okay okay." Mingi removed his shirt and laid down on his bed, lazily. At the same time, you were trying to warm up your hands a bit. "And now?" He asked, trying his bed to not fall asleep. "I'm going to give you a massage idiot." You rolled your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sat on his butt and started to spread oil on his entire back. "Y/N it's cold!" He complained again. "And you are scaring me." "Just stay still!" You replied, trying to not lose your temper. "I'll start." Slowly and gently, you passed your hands on his pale back. But when you pressed his shoulders, he gasped in pain. "You are the worse masseur ever." "Stop moving!" "I can't when you are almost breaking me in half!" "I'm just trying to massage you!" Not thinking twice of your actions, you grabbed the candle next to you. "It might be a little bit hot," you whispered. You delicately poured few drops of wax on Mingi's back. "Does it-" Your boyfriend yelped in pain, beneath you. You fell on the bed when he turned around to remove the hot feeling on his skin. "THE FUCK Y/N! IT BURNS!" "I just saw it on a sexy movie! The man seemed to like it!" You freaked out. "In a sadomasochist movie?!" He shouted, rushing to the bathroom. "I'm so so so sorry!" You rubbed your hands nervously. "You crazy!" "I wanted to surprise you!" "By what? Ripping my skin off?!" Well, seems like your romantic and sexy night was ruined. Don't believe what you see in movies guys.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, are you sure about that?" Asked Wooyoung, sitting on this chair in the middle of the room. "Yeah!" You replied setting your sexiest playlist. "You never done this before! You don't need to do it now." "If your ex could do it then I can." Wooyoung stayed quiet. He couldn't change your mind anyway. Yeosang accidentally mentioned that he ran to Wooyoung and his ex-girlfriend stripping for him a year ago. You immediately challenged yourself. If she had the nerves to do it, no reason that you don't, right? "Are you ready?" You put your phone down, 'Careless Whisper' playing the background. Wooyoung puffed, not believing your chose this song over a thousand ones, more appropriate. "What?" You mumbled. "Nothing, just go ahead." He tried to go back on his usual poker face. Finally finding the braveness to start, you walked sexily toward Wooyoung. Even though, you tried to look confident, you couldn't make an eye-contact. Your boyfriend noticed your shyness. It caused his heart to melt for you even more than before. You stood up, in front of him, starting to sway your hips from side to side. The moves were pretty good, but it felt unnatural for him. He could see that you were trying your best. Your tongue tugged out of your mouth sometimes, because of the effort. When you judged that it was time for you to remove your shirt, your hands started to shake a little bit on your hips. Wooyoung started to feel a kind of horniness until your top stayed stuck around your head, causing you to tug on the side. Your boyfriend laughed so hard at the scene. His dolphin laugh making you shy and ashamed of your performance. "Can you help me please! One of my earrings is stuck too!" "This is terrible Y/N!" He laughed, putting your top down. "I can do it." "Do it when you'll be ready to." He pecked your cheek. "It's okay. No rush." "Wooyoung sat back on the chair, not breaking the eye contact. "What?" He raised a brow. "I can do it." You repeated, lifting your top once again. He was taken aback by your new tentative, but it didn't fail to make him laugh again. It was really a cute scene to see. "Stop you are being too cute! I can't handle it!" He wiped his eyes, arms around his abs to seduce the slight pain.

JONGHO

Your room was a mess. Clothes spread out on the floor, hanging messily in the wardrobe and few of them were falling off the chair. Why? Because Jongho can't stop mentioning that you are "cute". There's nothing bad about that. It's just that you wanted to be something else than cute.

You tried a ‘nerdy’ look, but it was a complete failure. With those glasses and the bang, he was comparing you to a shy uniform high school girl.

Useless to say that you changed your look the next day. And for what? A ‘tomboy look’. You thought that this one would work, but the beanie and the large cargo pants caused you to look tinier. It was a failure, again. So, these last days, you thought about a sexy look. You felt like this option was finally the one which will succeed. For the occasion, you pickled a black leather skirt and a revealing top. For sure, he will spot your nipples and this white see-through shirt. "Y/N! Have you seen my-" he paused, looking right at you. "phone..." You smiled proudly, satisfied by the expression on his face. "Probably under a pillow in the living-room." You replied as nothing happened. To continue this way, you placed your hair out of your neck. Exposing your skin. His favorite part on your body. "You should look there, instead of standing there, staring at me like a fish looking for water." "Sorry but... I just can't get over the fact that-" he gulped. You smirked, waiting for him to finally admit that you could be something else than 'cute'. "So adorable! He giggled. "Are you kidding me?!" You said, completely done. "How can I be cute this outfit? Especially this skirt! If I bend over, you can clearly see my butt!" "Have you seen how cute your butt is?" He giggled. "Looking cute isn't a bad thing." "But right now, I wanted to look sexy! Like the hotter I've ever been!" You pointed at your chest. Jongho's face softened. He needed to admit that you looked hot with this outfit. But you couldn't help, but to be adorable. It was just how he sees your face every day. "I can't. I just want to pinch your cheek and to drown you by a thousand of kisses." He shrugged. "Okay, I give up." You rolled your eyes, grabbing your pajama on the bed. "Oh please... don't be mad!" He chuckled following you. "Don't talk to me." You said before slamming the bathroom's door, in front of him. "Cutie!" He yelled to tease you. "I hate you!" "I'm kidding." He paused. Before adding, "cutie." "Choi Jongho!"

[tenderlyrenjun]

The One with the Halloween Party

summary: your best friend has a halloween party but all you want to do is make out with your secret fuck buddy

↛ ↛ ↛ best friend’s younger brother!Yanyang x older reader

↛ ↛ female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, halloween party, sneaky relationship, secret make out sessions in a closet, inspired by Monica and Chandler from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (the one where phoebe hates pbs), the next part is going to be spicier (smut)

↛ word count: 7,6k; previously titled: “The One with the Best [Sex] I’ve Ever Had”

preview > part one > part two

It becomes exceedingly apparent that Ten never replaced the strike plate – the gold one, in the closet door by the front entrance of his apartment. He has been living here for two years and still has not replaced the locking mechanism. And you only really take notice because you feel it. The door opens way too easily. You are not even sure why you turn the handle, since the door opens so easily, so goddamn easily. Then, on top of that, the strike plate scratches your nose when you peek out the coatroom. You have to send prayers, begging for no one to hear you creak open the door or hear the squeak from your throat. And the spotlight effect theory, that Yangyang rambled on last week before his social psych midterm, comforts you somewhat, reminding you that all those cliché Halloween costumes in the living room are probably not attune to your indecency as you think they are. Maybe a quickie during Ten’s overcrowded Halloween party (although it was not this packed last year) was not the best decision. Especially, since your own cheerleading skirt, equally cliché, slips down your waist for the first time tonight, rather than riding up like it did minutes before. And you tiptoe back into the closet again, half-bent over to stop your outfit from completely falling off while pressing a hand to close the door as silently as possible. The thought of accidentally exposing yourself in front of all your friends is so embarrassing that your face heats up nearly enough to brighten the room, like a candle or 80s built house.

Right into Yangyang’s bare chest.

“Ow,” you mutter, palm protectively flying to your forehead. It did not hurt – bumping into him, but hopefully, covering some parts of your face understate the extent of this mortifying rendezvous. You take a baby step backward, then knock into the door and the tongue rattles, making you stiffen, making you freeze for a second. Yangyang puts his hands on your upper arms, rubbing them warm, as you look over your shoulder to verify that the door is still, in fact, closed. Both you and Yangyang are honestly incredibly lucky that no one caught you two, so when you confirm the locked door, your arms droop and you lull closer to Yangyang. Your eyes open after a second, and you jolt up again, realizing just how naked he is and how naked he is going to stay. You drag your nails down his pecs and ball your fingers into loose fists before completely breaking off him.

“Back up,” you whisper-shout, as if this command is part of some grand scheme.

Yangyang smirks, his smile curling wider. “I’m not the one touching someone’s rock hard abs.”

You want your glare to push him back, like your command, between all the jackets and superhero capes, but you get provoked by his cockiness. He was so much quieter and pliable when you first met. Now, you are the quiet, pliable one, or at least you are in this situation. Yet you bite at him – with your words, not your lips like his evil grin implies that he wants. “You wish.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Yangyang approaches you, gauging your reaction until his breath ghosts over yours. And not seeing any actual restraint, he kisses the corner of your mouth teasingly, like it could start another round. Then he lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “Or five minutes ago.” You wonder if he can feel your eye roll because he tries to change it from annoyed to turned on, sucking on the vein behind your ear.

And for that reason, you put a hand on his chest again, this time lower, on his stomach, specifically on his abs. His smirk broadens and his lips part again, aggravatingly making that clicking sound with his tongue, so you push on him. “Just –“ You pull your hand back to your face again, noticing the lack of change in warmth between his stomach and your face; maybe he is as embarrassed as you are, or turned on all over again. The latter is worse, probably, hopefully, not really. He looks really good and you just want to … You shake your head. “Wait a minute after I leave so this –“ You gesture between yourselves, touching his stomach again, then jerking away again. “- doesn’t look suspicious.”

Yangyang grabs your waist, sympathetically, although not entirely agreeing with your request. He tugs your bottoms over you ass and you expect him to retract immediately after, including the baby step that you asked for, but he only stops you from moving, keeping you locked in place – in place next to him. You roll your eyes again, unhooking his hands. Before you can completely detach, he interlocks your fingers and pushes you against the door, kissing you warmly.

Your head knocks into the door, loudly you think, and you stiffen again. Until his left hand travels behind your knee, up your thighs, and his lips open over yours, his tongue sliding next to yours. You stand on your toes, back curving into his embrace, off the extremely wiggly door, your arms hugging him closer as he pulls you up, pulls your clothes up. His right hand slides down your spine, thumbing at your waistband. This entire embrace is another persuasion, you note, and it usually works, like those mornings before AB Psych, but you two are in a closet, at a party, barely blocked by an unfastened doors that you are actually not sure is soundproof. So, you come down onto your heels and bring your hands to his chest again.

“Mmm mmm.” You shake your head off him. He trails you forward but you end the embrace, tightening your hands over the lapels, to close it, to close off his dumb attractive abs this time. “We have to get back.”

Yangyang pokes your personal bubble again, sliding his chest onto yours, and your arms stretch behind his neck, the closeness giving you some pressure on your boobs. He looks at you for a second, pupils scanning your eyes before he bends his neck on your, opening his mouth during an open mouth kiss.

“We’ve only been gone for a minute,” he seduces you, simultaneously sliding his tongue between your lips to prod at yours.

You slide your hands onto his face, comfortably holding his jaw in place as you look into his eyes, reinforcing your reasoning. “Try twenty.” You sigh, letting go of him. “I feel like such a bad guest. I haven’t even greeted the host yet.”

“Ten will be fine,” Yangyang reassures you, pushing past your fingertips to kiss you again. “Meanwhile –“ He kisses you deeply and you exhale, basically melting all over again. If he did not support you, you might have fallen onto the ground. God, he has some effect on you, and you cannot entirely describe it. “- I am not fine. You could greet me a little more enthusiastically.”

“I’m pretty sure you finished being so enthusiastic, a minute ago,” you scold. You square your hands over his shoulders and gently lean him off you, successfully separating him in the process, then reach for the doorknob. “We’re playing a risky game here, with the door unlocked.”

Yangyang slants forward, fusing you with the door. Your arm bends behind you, at your side, as he envelopes you, so he relaxes you again, taking down your elbow. You look at him with wide, pouting eyes, like that iPhone emoji. He can keep persuading you, effectively, and you will stay with him, but …

“Mmm mm,” you protest, pulling away. You hit your head on the door, hoping that it was not loud enough for someone to hear. “We – I really have to get going.”

Yangyang sighs, ceding, “Alright, fine.”

He beckons you out, looking away, flicking his wrist. And you wonder if he is actually complying. You look from him to the door, stuttering back to him. This would be the time for him to persuade you into staying again, and his gaze is devastating enough to convince you, but you really have to enter the party. As you grip the doorknob again, Yangyang hugs your back, clasping his hands like a belt over your skirt, and you can feel him pout into your shoulder, chin descending further into your skin. You placate him with a brief kiss to his knuckles – something chaste and fleeting, nothing like the fluttering in your heart. And since you cannot see his expression, you wonder if he actually enjoys these small acts of intimacy, of if he cringes; if he does cringe, then he is really good at hiding it, because you cannot perceive anything from him. Although, the moments in bed, in the most intimate hours, when the pads of his thumbs press into your lower back, you think that he feels it too.

Unfortunately, he cannot do that right now. And you head out the door first, straightening your direction over to the bar like a new arrival, or like someone who did not come to their best friend’s party just to make out with said best friend’s younger brother, or closest thing to a younger brother as he can get.

It only takes a few seconds for Yangyang to consider your goodbye, before completely rejecting it, then he groans into the empty closet, throwing his gaze at the ceiling. After, he pokes his head out the door, looking left and right like crossing the street, until the coast is clear for him to leave. When he rejoins the party, he instinctively searches for you among the cliques of cliché Halloween costumes. And he finds you, easily if he might add, at the bar, chatting with Jacob, probably about your matching basketball uniforms. Well, you wear a Trailblazer’s outfit and him a Jazz one – natural rivals but neither of you take it serious enough to start an argument in a semi-public setting.

Yangyang waits for you to leave the bar and meet up with Ten, interrupting his conversation to say hello. He nicks a capri sun from the fridge, then joins you right after with a bright smile on his face, middle fingers pressing into your lower back like a greeting wave. The act might have been offensive, had you been in a club and he a stranger, but he knows you, he likes you. And he smiles even wider when you relax into his hand. Nevertheless, Ten stands three feet away, putting the two of you on edge, and your spine straightens in the most attentive way possible, like you are a military subordinate or something, even though you are dressed as a basketball cheerleader from the U.S. state where you spent a winter semester abroad during freshman year, before Yangyang joined your university. So, to make the conversation more natural, Yangyang high-fives Ten, while you take his juice box away and open it for him. He stares at you, smile faltering, suddenly feeling smaller as you take care of him and Ten resumes whatever the hell you two had been talking about until he entered the conversation.

“Oh, come on,” Ten whines, hitting your arm after you hand Yangyang the capri sun. You glare at him sharply, then make sure Yangyang is okay, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He wants it to mean more, because he does not know what you want from him, but now is not the time, not when you are trying to keep everything on the DL. “I want to meet the guy who is the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Yangyang mimics your body language, though peppier as he smirks. “Really?” he asks Ten. “That’s what you heard?” He turns to you, tilting his head teasingly. “That’s really what you said?”

You baby-step out of the trio, slightly further from Yangyang specifically until you knock into Winwin behind. Your conversation partners giggle at you as you throw a small apology over your shoulder, then you glare at them upon returning to the group. You exhale slowly, giving yourself time to think before speaking, and redirect your annoyance at Yangyang more than Ten. “I might have.”

“Why didn’t you invite him to the party, huh?” Ten asks, bumping shoulders, wiggling suggestively. He raises his eyebrows, glancing at Yangyang to rope him into the teasing too and he falls into it because your mystery boyfriend is already here. Yangyang stops dancing when Ten’s expression changes, softens and reminisces. “I get the whole ‘respecting his privacy thing, but, like, I really want to meet the guy who helped you get over Renjun.”

The name drop causes Yangyang to shoot his eyebrows to the moon. His neck snaps at you faster than Kun’s when he jokingly accepted a marriage proposal. He watches you widen your eyes at Ten and smack him loudly. Maybe not everyone knew that, he thinks; he certainly did not know that, and he has known Renjun longer than you or Ten have. While you and Ten stare each other off, irritated and shocked, respectfully, Yangyang loudly slurps the last of his capri sun.

Yangyang tries to break the tension by pointing to the wall adjacent from you all, at Renjun. “He’s taking five shots of Smirnoff with Jeno right now, while Jaemin holds lemons at the ready.”

“Big deal,” Ten waves him off while keeping eye contact with you. Yangyang stares at his face, looking him up and down, then decides to take a baby step in front of your leg, almost protectively. He cannot gauge where Ten stands, where the conversation is going, but he knows that he will be there for you, just in case. “I did that when I was 17.”

You smack Ten, with the arm opposite of Yangyang, using the other one to pull Yangyang back into an equilateral triangle. “Don’t normalize underage drinking.” Yangyang almost rolls his eyes at that; who are you even saying that too?

“Hey!” Ten counters. “No one is underage at my party.” He holds your hand and pulls you into his side, into a scalene triangle, while covering your mouth. “Shhh, you can’t say that out loud. I invited Mr. I’m-A-Lawyer-Now, and besides, -“ You pull out of his arms and stand slightly in front of Yangyang. “-I just happened to invite the babies, too. Like Yangyang.” Ten turns to the devil in disguise and pinches his cheeks. “Baby.”

Yangyang single-handedly unbuttons his shirt again, like an act of defiance. “I am not a baby!”

Ten drops his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “You respond to baby,” he retorts, “And you’re drinking a juice box.”

“I had a bottle of soju earlier!”

“Oh? Just one?”

Yangyang folds the aluminum capri sun into his pocket, hopefully discreetly, and scrunches his nose at Ten. He feels you gently draw him back at your side, via his wrist, and expects you to defend him, but you just tease him further:

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Yangyang straightens up, his jaw dropping, then he crinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at you. He accepts it though, not changing the topic, because he sees the way your posture shifts when everyone moves away from the romantic department.

Although, he might want to talk to you about it sometime.

Ten grounds him back to the conversation, patting his hair – the same spot you place kisses when the two of you cuddle and he is the small spoon, so Yangyang ducks away, slapping Ten’s hand out of the air. The whole hair touching thing reminds him that you are never really vulnerable enough with him, to let him hold you like baby. He wants to try it, especially since Ten keeps babying him in front of you, but he is not sure if you even like it.

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice low. You poke Yangyang’s side then cross your arms over your cropped jersey. “You’re so cute.”

Yangyang circles his neck towards you, smiling reassuringly, or at least he thinks so. His gaze wanders from your eyes to your fingers, which are coiled around your upper arm, so he starts taking off his jacket, pulling off the cuffs behind his back. But he stops after feeling your hand on his bicep. He glances at your hand, then stares at your eyes before pouting:

“I don’t want to be cute.”

He stops stripping but still decides to keep you warm, with another back hug, this time enveloping you into his jacket while he rests his chin on your head, even tiptoeing just to commit to the hug. When you squirm, shaking your shoulders to hit his pecs, he just hangs on slightly tighter until you stop. And after you relax, resuming natural conversation with Ten about anything other than your former crush, he smiles, coming back down to his heels and leaning on your shoulder. The new position tempts him to kiss your neck, and he almost does, but then he feels Ten’s eyes look at him, so he cannot even press a small peck at your jugular like he does sometimes when he catches you at the café by the physics building – the one that only Jaemin goes to, out of all his friends; the one where neither of you get spotted by your friends so it seems like a date, not that either of you have ever called it that. Nope. He avoids kissing your neck and just brushes his nose along your skin. It does not come off as platonic, he recognizes, but Ten does not ask any questions and Yangyang slowly phases out of the conversation to meet up with Hendery who walked through the front door as a pink bunny rabbit.

Yangyang slipping out of the trio feels so sudden, you think after feeling his hands unbuckle around your waist.

Maybe he does not feel important in the conversation anymore. So, you lock your elbows into your sides, clasping your own hands over your stomach to make him stay put. You knock your head onto his collarbone, prompting him to say something, but he does not, only resting his chin on your shoulder. Hopefully, he is smiling; you like his smile. His cheek pokes you at your neck, similar to how he almost kissed you in front of Ten just minutes ago. Then, he pushes his hand in front of you, to wave at Hendery, opposite the room, and your smile quirks down, somewhat embarrassed, as you trace his direction to the pink, fluffy ears bopping along to last year’s Travis Scott song. Ten copies you, twisting hesitantly behind himself. Meanwhile, Yangyang grows a little bolder, hunching forward onto his tiptoes to kiss your cheek silently, before dashing off with his friends.

Too stunned, eyes wide, mouth smaller, you miss the way Ten turns around, his smile wide with a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. It goes away though, when he sees your face, so after making eye contact, you are met with an ominous stare. It is also curious, but the ominousness throws you for a loop. Then he raises his brow slightly, and you smack him, simultaneously asking what he wants.

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his pilot costume. He relaxes once you show no intent to hit him again, then he locks his hands behind his back, leaning toward your face mischievously. And when his nose almost pokes your eye out, you jump back into WInwin again, glare prompting him to ask stupid questions. “I simply want to know what all that was about.”

“What?” you bite at him, annoyed, following your second apology of the night to Winwin. And instead of meeting his eye (to give yourself more time to think of an excuse, no matter how flimsy), you flatten down the bottom of your top, where a iron-on patch of Dillard’s number disrupts the obnoxious Portland ‘P’ – you wonder if anyone connects your costume and Yangyang’s favorite basketball team, because no one says anything. Except, Ten is saying something right now, continuing the silent taunting into your personal bubble, getting almost as close as Yangyang was just a minute ago. So, you poke him away, on his forehead. “You want to know why I keep running into Winwin?” Ten rolls his eyes. Your voice does not feign innocence as well as you want.

“That was all you,” he deflects, eye contact maintained but he points at your vodka party drink, implying that you might have had a bit too much tonight. You swallow the alcohol faster, defiantly, and hold your breath, exhaling longer while you pause, holding the empty cup still above your dry tongue. “No, yeah, but, uh, no, that whole thing with Yangyang.” Ten bumps your arm with his elbow, coming to your side so that both of you can watch the man in question from across the room. “Huh?” he teases lightly. “Are you entertaining him? [Because] You two seem really … close.”

“I’m close with you,” you retort, touching his shoulder, into the crook of his neck, with your head. Then you stand back up, reflexively smiling when Yangyang laughs at a new TikTok dance that Hendery shows him. He even looks back at you, waving once your eyes meet. You throw him a thumbs up, and you swear that his smile gets brighter. It probably was not because of you though, because he starts giggling louder and dancing alongside Hendery right after. “We’re all –“ You turn to Ten, smile still blanketed under your nose, then you frown. “- friends; what’s that look for?”

“Nothing!” He imitates innocence better than you do, baring his palms for dramatic effect. You face him frontally, examining his devilishly handsome face for a crack. And he gives it to you: “It’s just that we’ve known each other for eight years and you never let me cuddle you like that.” He pokes your hip, where Yangyang was attached. “You’re closer with someone you just met.”

“You introduced us. In March!”

Ten waves a hand lazily. “Minor details. Besides –“ He blocks Yangyang from your view, not that it really mattered because you are trying to have a conversation with Ten. But it helps you maintain eye contact. “- you seem really comfortable with him being naked on you.”

You open and close your mouth in one short breath, swirling the empty red solo cup at your side, nervously. He has a point; you know he has a point – you are very comfortable with Yangyang being naked on top of you. Wait, he said on you. Either way, Ten is right. You do not want to admit it because that implies feelings, something that you are definitely not willing to talk about at the moment, especially this moment, but he is right. The question is if he needs to know.

“Did you hear about Yangyang and the anatomy student from Renjun’s class? They’re also close.”

You deadpan. As it turns out, he does not need to know. You are not dating, anyways, so …

“It’s my business, because…?”

“It’s not,” Ten agrees, shrugging. He looks off, turning his head toward Johnny, dressed as the Kellogg Tiger, before looking at you again. “Just thought you’d like to know.” He shrugs again. “If you didn’t already.”

“Uhh, okay,” you confirm, as nonchalantly as possible. You mirror his body language, standing straighter. Ten says nothing, not noticing the way your body stiffens, or at least, you hope so. “So you’re telling to what?” Get you jealous? “Give him advice?”

“Nah, we both know that he’s fully capable on his own.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He’s a baby who lives in a frat apartment with seven other dudes and buys food at the café by the physics department to avoid washing a knife.” Well, he charmed you, so how can you criticize his flirting abilities? You shrug – maybe, he was just that horny. He has always been a typical teenage boy. Although, he turned 20 a couple weeks ago.

“Huh.”

“What?” You come down from the high that somewhat roasted your sex partner … fuck buddy? friend with benefits? He is something to you - a little more than a friend but you do not think he would willingly be your boyfriend. Your voice sounds less excited now, and you run your hand through your hair, pulling slightly harder at the ends.

“Nothing,” Ten shrugs again. He twitches at you, briefly spinning his hips. “It’s just that Yangyang mentioned you go to that café too.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, like it is obvious. Ten smirks, knowingly, you think, so you crush him, “Jaemin, too.” You lift your eyes to the ceiling for a second, like it would give you an out. “And Kun on Tuesdays after 5.”

Ten scrunches his face, now facing you again. “Oh, we both know that Kun goes to the kiosk in the chemistry building for the cute barista with a good taste in music.”

You mockingly smile at him, squinting above your nose. He does not get the satisfaction of an equally annoyed laugh – probably because you might crack, your voice might crack and accidentally give something away. It’s not that you don’t want anyone to know that you are sleeping with Yangyang – you don’t, but not because it is embarrassing. You just do not particularly want to hear the two cents everyone seemingly needs to donate, like a commercial tax, especially with their baby Yangyang.

“Why did Hendery even dress up as a bunny? A pink bunny. Is he puling a Chandler?”

“No,” Ten shakes his head. This is the third conversation change you have made, and surely, he caught on by now. “Only Jisung and Winwin are watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. with Chenle; I think that Hendery just like the costume.” Ten points at Johnny, flashing a wave, then glances at you. “I’m gonna head over there. I haven’t seen Johnny since he left for a Paris project.”

“Yeah, no,” you gesticulate, nodding, “go ahead. I’ll meet you later, or something.”

“We’ll catch coffee on Monday.” Ten’s voice shrinks as he moves away. “After office hours!” He turns around one more time, emphasizing his words louder, “At the physics café!”

Yangyang, along with a couple other people, snaps his neck at Ten walking away from you, especially after hearing the bit about the physics café because, no offence to Ten, but that is his place. With you. The café on 17th is his rendezvous point with you. He likes the whole secret aspect of your relationship – it is so sexy; you are so sexy. It is just … the face that everything is secret prevents him from explicitly opposing Ten’s suggestion. And before he knows it, Yangyang makes his way toward you, waving goodbye to his psych friends.

He already knows where you are, because sometimes he would glance over at you when someone made a joke, just to see you laugh, to laugh with you. Occasionally, you would be smiling brightly, at whatever Ten said, and look to him. So, all he has to do is turn right and find his annoyed cheerleader, to annoy you even more.

The music is louder by the kitchen exit, where you are, curled against the wall with an empty red solo cup, blue light from your phone glowing across your face. Yangyang takes the opportunity to scare you, hiding behind a couple groups until he reaches you, creeping slowly. Then he strikes, poking your obliques.

“Boo!”

“Ah!”

You jump against the wall, clutching all your belongings closer while he laughs at you.

“Aw, did I scare you?”

Yangyang envelopes you into a hug, ignoring the way you glare at him. And he relaxes, when you do, feeling you squeeze his waist and sigh. You will never admit it, but the two of you know that this is how your dynamic works – he annoys you, then you cuddle him. And he has so many ways to annoy you. Like, next, he pulls a 180 – both coming behind you and switching up the mood to grind under your hips.

“What are you doing?” he whispers in your ear, fast, grabbing your waist to guide you over his pelvis. He gets dangerously near your cheek, excusing it as a way for you to hear him better, since you two stand adjacent to the speakers, where the music is above talking decibel. His eye catches onto Lucas’s, and he winks, hands tightening above your skirt, because, despite all the teasing, this is not actually how he wants your entanglement to get out. “Wanna head upstairs? I just found a new TIkTok challenge you can practice on me, like the WAP one.”

“What are you doing?” you retort, laying your fingers on his bare chest – he likes that you keep touching him, not so much when you push him away. He wonders if you know that. Like, he chose his outfit for tonight because, well, he looks good, but also because he figured that you would think he looks good, too. It seems like you do, considering that your hand always finds ways back to his abs. So, he grows more confident, nipping at your ear while you push him against the wall, further away. Your eyes flutter, lashes blinking rapidly as he holds you closer, left hand toying with the hem of your shirt. He has this trick that you always react to, and he wants to do it now, while no one pays attention to either of you (larger parties afford far more privacy than smaller ones). You lean your head on his warm shoulder, then he presses his palm into your spine until you are chest to chest with him, impossible to get closer. Your breath sounds louder, as the music transitions to Goodbye feat. Lyse [slow version], and he wonders if he can elicit a moan from you, in the same frequency as the song’s growl. His right hand travels between your thighs, until you stop him, slapping his hand and holding him still. “We’re in public.”

Yangyang spins you around, showing off his own point of view as a counter argument: no one is paying attention. The whole thing bumps your connected hips into the wall, and his arm belts over your lower waist, driving you to essentially demi plie over his thigh that sneaks through your legs. At the sudden movement, you gasp, death gripping over his arm. He does not mind very much, only the red solo cup tapping rhythmically between the wall and his elbow. You barely get time to relax completely before he drops lower, just enough for him to look up at you. And he takes note of the sexual tension essentially radiating off the two of you, so he alleviates it, giving the illusion that there is only dancing going on right now. Though, you baby-step forward, to give him more space. His smile falters, twitching down, and he is thankful that you seem oblivious to it, because you comply with his action, letting your skirt flower spread over his leg and the smile return to his face. Yangyang guides your swaying left and right, grazing over his abs.

“I’m offering to go upstairs,” he answers definitively, still whispering in your ear. “More privacy.” His hands travel up again, skin getting lightly scratched by your top’s texture. Your nails might do a better job, if he remembers correctly. God, he wants you to take up his offer. “You didn’t have a problem with it an hour ago,” he points out, while dropping his gaze to your neck, once again tempted to mark you. He pulls away some of the baby strands that fell out of your hairdo, then locks eyes as he traces your ear shape. “Do you have a problem with it now?”

“No,” you answer him quickly, shaking your head for even more emphasis. You turn around fully and scan his eyes before shaking your head again. “I don’t have a problem.”

Yangyang smiles wider, instinctively bowing forward. Your ambiguous answer tells him more than he asked. He almost reveals something in return: that he enjoys kissing you, because he would totally do it right now, but you keep stopping him. He is all for consent, honestly; it just gets really confusing with you. Even now, he initiates a small, intimate touch while this moment afford you two some privacy, breathing open mouthed kisses onto the vein behind your neck, slightly illusioned in the dark lights as just talking to you. All the boundaries do no really define what he can, or cannot, do in public. Like, apparently, you two can have sex in a closet right before his best friend’s party – a best friend shared between you two, but there are rules about how close he can stand next to you. Both situations still involve secrecy. Although, one is far more sexier than the other. But he wants the whole damn thing – to hold you in public, and private, to kiss the part of your trapezius muscle that he likes so much, to be able to say that he knows places too, like the physics café where he doesn’t want Ten to take you because he takes you on dates there!

Then, you sigh.

Why are you sighing? It feels like that should be his response.

You clasp your hands behind his neck, evidently hesitating to reveal something – he knows because you fiddle with his collar a few times before moving onto the ends of his hair.

“It’s just …” You pause, so he tries to make his gaze unwavering, to hold you securely. “It’s just that a certain classmate might have a problem.” He furrows his eyebrows, bending onto his knees to ask for clarification. “You know … a certain classmate.”

Yangyang narrows his eyes, lost in translation. He slides up the wall and squeezes your waist, thinking, trying to figure you out.

“Oh!” he catches on. “Oh, I don’t think Hyunjin would have a problem with us.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I don’t really see how anyone in any of our classes would have a problem with us, much less, like, know about us.” He cocks his head to the side sympathetically, lips brushing along your cheek to ear. “I don’t have a problem with us.” He drapes his arms around your sides. “Just FYI.”

“Me neither.”

He smiles wider. You two are on the same page about something. He almost kisses you right then and there, but settles for brushing his nose on yours, simultaneously taking a step backward, closer to the wall so that no one sees the obnoxiously domestic display of affection. Actually, it might be weird for Hendery, Xiaojun, or one of his psych friends to see him act so … boyfriend-like, so romantic. He doesn’t think that anyone would anticipate that kind of behavior from him, and he is honestly too sure if you see him like that. He would try it though, you know, because he is curious and he would like to be your boyfriend.

“Did Ten tell you about Hyunjin?” Yangyang asks, prodding slowly.

You nod, equally slow, eyes falling down. “He didn’t mention any names, -“ Yangyang feels something in his chest drop. He put a name to the idea, and now he watches your eyelashes flutter and the lump in your throat shake, as you try not to say the name. “- but yeah.” He hugs you, bending your arms around his stomach so that he jackets you in his empty shirt. You have said that he has a natural body warmth, and hopefully it is comforting right now, because …

“It’s not really his business who I talk to.”

Yangyang almost apologizes for creating an environment that fosters mistrust or makes room for insecurities. Except, (1) that sounds like a note he would write in his case study’s conclusion for class, and (2) how the hell is he even supposed to say that? He tries to show that this – whatever it is – is exclusive. Like, now, he just holds you tightly, during a Halloween party, only slightly out of view from his friends. He almost apologizes, and it is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, pursing his lips as you open your mouth.

“It’s not my business either,” you reason, stepping back. His embrace slackens, like rock climbing because he catches you, not letting you fall off him, even though you wiggle out a little bit, pushing him back into the wall. “Because we’re not dating.”

“No,” Yangyang partially agrees, standing straighter, supported by the wood. “We’re not, but we’re …” He wants to tell you about the exclusivity, that he considers the two of you to be exclusive. Some part of him thinks that you hold the same thought. And he cocks his head to the side, rolling his tongue behind his teeth. “We’re good friends. And, you know, we’re like, yeah. So, it’s your business too.” He rubs your shoulder again. “Wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

Yangyang smacks your ass for attention, trying to make the situation fluffier, simultaneously gesturing to the second floor with his hair. This is not really the time nor place to dissect your relationship, and he would totally put it under the microscope. Just, maybe, at another time. You seem to agree, walking away first, holding his hand to guide him up the secretive stairs.

And despite this being his idea, Yangyang stops before the first step, waiting for you to march a couple feet taller than him. His eyes linger at the lowest hem of your skirt, until you plant one foot in front of the other, on two separate levels. You look over your shoulder and roll your eyes. He expected it, quickly meeting your gaze innocently. Then he smacks you ass again, as if he were not just looking up your skirt a second ago. You glare at him, but he slaps your ass again and races upstairs.

“You’re so annoying,” you comment after him, still running to meet him at the top.

Yangyang smiles. Yeah, but you love him. He opens the nearest bedroom door, beelining to the bed where he manspreads across the full-sized mattress. You walk into the room quickly after him, turning around to close the door. Your skirt swings chastely around your thighs, and he cannot take his eyes away from it, wishing for you to swing them around his hips.

“Wanna be annoying with me?”

You roll your head, clicking your tongue, after finding him sitting relaxed on the comforter with suggestive eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess.”

Yangyang lifts his arms to catch you when you dive between his shirt, the lower part of your body thrusting on top his as you prowl beside his torso. He leans back, hands anchoring himself to your face. You push him deeper into the mattress, and he feels your nails airily redraw each indent on his carefully contoured abdomen. He smirks, asking if you like what you feel, and tilts his chin up to give you better access to his mouth. You tell him to shut up by biting his lower lip, though you match his expression, shaking your head as you decline into him. Yangyang cannot maintain his position any longer, almost breaking a sweat when you unbuckle his very thin belt and tap into the metal button barely holding his pants together. He whines, briefly breaking the kiss, then he flips you over, bending one of your legs up to fit his in between.

“I don’t want you to just guess,” Yangyang whispers. He slowly retreats his palm from under your shirt to the spot on your stomach where your shirt lifted up; he wants your verbal consent before doing anything else, and he waits for it. The kiss gets longer as you sigh into it, lazily hooking an arm around his neck. So, he stops. And then brushes your hair behind your ear, just hovering over you with tender eyes. “I don’t want you to just guess.”

“I’m not guessing,” you reassure him. You play with his hair, the way he likes, toying the strands on the top of his head then combing through the rest until reaching his neck. He looks at you innocently again, in case you crack. But you don’t. He restarts the kiss, sliding his hand under all the layers covering your torso.

Yangyang helps you out of your shirt, watching the way your chest bounces without support, so he gives you more, adding his lips like a low-set suction. “You’re so pretty,” he confesses, kissing into your sternum after you arch it up at him. And he wants to know your reaction, so as he presses an open mouth kiss into the side of your boob, he looks up at you, your lips parted by a silent moan. “You are so, so pretty like this.”

Unlike you, Yangyang moans audibly.

He feels you curl your fingers into his waistband, touching his tip outside his underwear. With his eyes closed, he drops on his back and feels you move around his lower thighs, teetering above them lightly. You meet him between the velvety sheets, giggling with him as your hair tickles his face. He opens his eyes, combing the loose strands behind your face again, finishing the act of endearment with his knuckles stroking your cheek. Sometimes he lets himself fall into these more romantic displays of affections.

Yangyang grips your ass, under your cheerleading skirt. When he remembers that you have his favorite player’s jersey patched onto your crop top, he pulls his chin up, nipping at your bottom lip. You draw him in further, towering over him until he drags you down with him, mixing between the sheets, laughing again. He really loves hearing your voice, and he loves it even more that he can make you have a fun time, make you grin so vocally during the moments that matter. So, he tries it again, slipping under your underwear too, massaging your skin.

“Mmm,” you moan.

Yangyang feels you slither his shirt off his shoulders, your nails grazing around his biceps as he tilts up to kiss you over and over again. Then, abruptly, you sit back, on your knees, around his hips, alert at attention. The new position allows him to mark your neck, one hand sliding through your waist band, over your ass, to have you grind down on him. His lips nibble at your collarbone, tongue breezing along as he waits for your reaction.

“Wait, wait.”

He stops, looking at you from under his eyelashes. A minute passes, and you don’t give any more restraints, so he resumes taking off your underwear. He keeps the same consistent eye contact because you remain alert above him, but you close your eyes and lean your head closer to him. He pulls his arm completely out of his sleeve so that he can hug you firmly against his body. Your chest grazes his, and he moans.

“Shh,” you silence him, kissing him quiet, hands still on his shoulder, “Do you hear that?”

“No, mm.” Yangyang breaks the kiss. “What are you –“

“Shh!”

You move your hands onto his pectoral muscles, his shirt near completely off his body, as you turn your head at the door. His head stutters in the same direction, stopping every half millisecond to return back to your face and make sure that you are okay. Then, he hears it: Xiaojun stumbling into the walls, jiggling the doorknob.

Yangyang stiffens. “Did you lock the door?”

A bit of light from the hallway cracks into the room, along with intoxicated hushing and giggling.

“Shit, no,” you answer, obviously, then start to pick your clothes off the bed and stand up. After a moment of hesitation, Yangyang follows you, buttoning up the middle of his shirt and meeting you in the center of the room, shielding your exposed chest as you clip on your bra.

Yangyang looks at the door when it creaks louder, eyes caught by a headlight. Before he knows it, you shove him into a closet. Neither of you are getting the opportunity to be annoying together because Xiaojun drunkenly stumbles into your space, moaning after his own date. Yangyang rolls his eyes and feels you slide into his shirt with him, scratching his back with your spangled top. He knows that there is no other option, since you two do not want to expose your relationship, especially like this, but he would rather not ruin his relationship with one of his best friends due to indecency – either of theirs. Thankfully, he gets an out, after Xiaojun hides under the blanket.

When you two make it downstairs, Yangyang bursts into laughter, yours following too until he gives you a long chaste kiss, screening you behind the wall to maintain that secrecy he did not want Xiaojun to break.

Although, Yangyang pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear again, hand holding your waist to prevent you from leaving. You stare at him, at the domestic moment of tenderness, then fall into his chest again. And that is when he realizes it: he doesn’t really want to be a secret.

[ascendance-if]

I was rereading the demo today Lou, and I realised that the ROs are a lot more..... powerful then the MC? Was that always the case? Or will we grow as strong as them when our memories fully return?

Also, how would the ROs react to the MC falling asleep while leaning against them with their head resting on their shoulder?

Hi, crabby ❤ You were re-reading it?? ~grins~ You are correct!

At this point in the story, up until a few weeks ago, you used to perceive yourself as nothing more than the average (or slightly above average) human. This is due to your lack of memory, but still, ^^

In contrast, the leaders (RO's) have been fully aware of their extraplanetary identity for a long time now, and already know how to use their abilities very well, being considered way above average in skill, even for The Y.

That being said, the extent of your MC's powers is actually something I'll want you to find out in-game.

It's one of the things that makes me very excited to write because you (the player/MC) simply do not know how powerful you are... You could be more powerful than any of them, less powerful than all of them, as powerful as them, or something in-between, 😏. We'll see.

My, I love that scenario. Picture it happening in a comfortable, yet somewhat public place, kay? Such as a common area in one of the buildings of the training facilities.

Elya

Someone would have to remind him that it's okay to breathe normally. He'd stiffen up a lot at first, calculating 100 different ways he could accidentally wake you up and how to avoid every single one of them. After some time, feeling your warmth resting softly against his shoulder, he'd relax slightly and adjust himself to accommodate you. His lips would be graced with a smile caused by the several sweet memories of you this moment would trigger, some belonging to this lifetime, and some to lives you don't even dream of remembering yet.

Ian

Would get emotional, but maintain his usual smug front, so no one would be able to tell just by looking at him. It's been several years since he's last seen you sleeping, and he honestly thought it would take several more in this lifetime, that if it happened at all. With that, this situation would be perceived by him as a gift. Depending on your personality, he could simply lean against you gently until you woke up or full-on hug you, shifting your weight to be even on top of him if he thought that'd be the most comfortable position for you to sleep in.

Joana

Would sense that you are going to fall asleep a few minutes before you do. Protectors are trained to pay attention to that, specifically, because some missions lead them to exhaustion and they have to be in tune with each other so that they can keep one another awake, if necessary (there are aura-manipulation techniques for that). That being said, instead of working to prevent it, Joana would stay perfectly still by your side, just like someone who's trying not to scare a small bird away would. As soon as you actually fell asleep against her, an emotion she hasn't felt in a long time would boil inside of her and, eventually, overflow. God help the soul who dared to make a noise in the room you're in, lol.

[dystopiandilfs]

Okay here's some genuine constructive criticism, opinions and advise for Tales based on reasons why I don't like Tales as a whole.

If I was to be in charge of Tales instead of Karl here's what I'd change/add.

Warning if you click read more you will be faced with opinions, some of which can be negative. You have be warned.

Firstly I wouldn't have so many people involved purely because you don't have time to flesh out all the characters enough for people to get attached so they don't care when something bad happens to them. Less people also means you can spend more time introducing each character and explaining why they are specifically there and how Karl got there.

Secondly I would make sure that the people I do invite take it as seriously as I want it to be perceived. You can't expect people to take your story seriously when half of the people involved spend more time making jokes and derailing the stream. Having a group that consists of 4 taking it seriously and 4 fucking about is a bad thing. Nobody is going to focus on the story if you've got Quackity and Sapnap making dick jokes. Not once for Tales has Karl's name trended but everyone else always does because of them making jokes. Karl is somehow the least memorable and important person in his own character stream.

Next I would actually tone down the production level. This means no extravagant builds being commissioned, no big fancy intro etc. This is purely because Tales feels like a spin off au series to the DreamSMP instead of actually part of the SMP. A huge reason why things like Las Nevadas and The Prison were so amazing was that they were built in survival by people on the SMP rather than a build team being commissioned to create a big fancy build in creative on a random server. There's such a huge disconnect between Tales and the SMP because of Tales being the only character story to not be on the SMP and it's only connections being easter eggs and cameos. Honestly hiring a team to do all the work just seems lazy and you can't expect people to connect with your lore when you yourself aren't even involved in creating it an the only connections you have is playing it.

Next thing I would do I switch up the layout of things, the whole basis is time travel but we never really get into the time travel aspect of the story so if it were me I'd start the stream off in Kinoko and head to the library and grab a book and the story in that book is basically what happens in the stream and the book is written by the other time traveller and Karl is time travelling through each of the other time travellers stories to figure out what happened to them. He's basically copying the other time travellers path and each episode gives more hints on who the other traveller is and what happened to them.

I'd also link what happened to DreamSMP events. For example the other traveller stole a spore of the Egg when they came across it on their journey and hid it in what is now the SMP, the egg was reawakening after Karl also came across the egg and accidentally brought back some of the egg power which is what reawakened the Egg that was found by BBH. Another link would be specific people and items so for example Karl brings back a diary from when he visits the town that went mad and Foolish later finds it and we find out that Foolish is the reason the town went mad. Basically the whole thing is that Karl is trying to figure out what happened to the other time traveller but doesn't know that he's losing his memory and he's bringing back things to the SMP which have big effects. He's basically unintentionally ruining things whilst trying to fix them not realising that he's fucking things up.

Next thing I'd change is face cam. I've always been someone who said I don't like character lore or story lore having face cam because I feel like it takes away from everything and my thoughts still stand here but what I'd like to add is for Karl to not do a just chatting segment before and after the stream aswell. Just have a timer before doing the lore like Sam and Quackity and just end the stream after the lore. I don't like people doing lore and then going "what did you think" like just end your stream and raid someone.

Next I'd focus more of building Karl's story over everyone else by having smaller streams in-between the big ones that is purely just Karl. They can be in character or just cc!Karl doing a just chatting stream where he talks about and explains his character a bit more. Let's be real nobody leaves a Tales stream knowing more about Karl's character or even remembering anything new we might have learned because he doesn't spend enough time on it. Everything explained about Karl's character is immediately glossed over by some other big reveal which is why I think solo streams are good.

Next I'd focus way more of actually creating a story because at the moment it seems like Karl only focuses on the last bit with the Inbetween which is fine but it's also only 10% of the whole stream which is why he has to rely on fancy build and cc appearances to carry the story because he doesn't put time into actually writing anything for the main chunk of the stream. Which is also why Karl can never control the group because nobody knows what they're supposed to be doing because there's no story or structure.

The only things people actually remember are the Villains, Ranbob and Billiam for example. Half of the people who watched Mizu can't tell you anything other than cc!Dream woke up to play a toxic murderous Dream stan in a Ranboo au cosplay. The only thing people remember about the Murder Mystery Mansion was Techno's character, The Egg and Quackity not knowing how to spell economy. Nothing about Karl's character is remembered because anything important is glossed over and there's no time or attention put into building a character to the point of it being over shadowed by the dumb names people give their characters.

Basically Karl needs to focus on creating his character and building the main part of the stream rather than the final 10 minutes because having a switch from friends messing around to serious lore isn't going to have the effect you want because people are going to focus on something else. I mean more people tweeted about Ranboo being the other time traveller than anything else and Ranboo wasn't even on the stream. (also Ranboo isn't the other time traveller bet)

Also hot take Karl should stop inviting Quackity, Sapnap and George because they're never going to take Karl's lore seriously and all they do is derail the situation. I love the three of them but they can't focus for 30 seconds and always are the reason why Karl has no character story or memorable moments and don't help Karl build his story in any way. It genuinely baffles me how Quackity can be so serious on his own lore streams but can't even shut up for 30 seconds on someone else's.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

23. New Year’s kiss, requested by @ophelialoveshandsomemen

2021 Holiday Blurbs

“I just don’t get it,” Llewyn said, leaning against the wall next to you, “I really don’t see the point.”

“There really is no point,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink, “Luck, maybe? I don’t know, it’s just tradition.”

“I think it’s stupid.”

“You think most things are stupid.”

Llewyn huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“I dunno, I think it’s nice.”

“Yeah, you would,” he scoffs and you immediately bristle.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You know how Llewyn can be, especially if he’s been drinking. You don’t know why you had hoped he would be different tonight, why you thought you’d be able to enjoy New Years Eve without him inevitably saying something hurtful.

You know a lot of the time he doesn’t even mean it, but it still stings. Even after years of friendship with him, you still find yourself hoping that just once, you could get through a party without him accidentally saying something that made you want to cry.

You can see him formulating a response, but if you know anything about him, and you do, he’ll only dig himself deeper.

“Whatever,” you say, pushing yourself off the wall, “come find me when you’re done being a dick.”

You know you’re probably overreacting, but his comment just rubbed you the wrong way and you didn’t feel like dealing with that. It was supposed to be a party, and you didn’t want to spend it biting back tears because Llewyn’s comment sent you on a spiral of how you perceive yourself.

And maybe your childish behavior had something to do with the childish hope that he’d want to kiss you at midnight.

Despite the fact that he could be an asshole, you couldn’t help but fall in love with Llewyn. Every moment you spent with him made it harder and harder to deny your feelings, even when you knew he doesn’t feel anything but platonic feelings for you.

So you leave him standing alone, leaning against the wall while you go and talk and catch up with people you’ve barely seen. You’ll wait until you’ve calmed down and he’s stopped sulking, and you’ll go over and apologize.

Surprisingly, he found you first.

You had been talking with someone who could really only be described as acquaintance, a friend of a friend of a friend. You’re having an incredibly boring conversation and you’re planning out your excuse to escape when Llewyn comes over and asks with a polite smile to steal you for a minute.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you’re surprised that he’s so forward. Normally, an apology is immediately followed by an excuse from him, but instead he says, “I was being an ass and I’m sorry I ruined your fun. I really didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s alright, honestly. I overreacted, and I should have let you explain.”

Llewyn pauses, and you’d be happy to stand in silence with him but you can tell he has something he wants to say.

“What is it?” You ask, growing tired of the anticipation.

“Have you ever been kissed at midnight?” He asks, looking embarrassed and far too hopeful for you to be misreading the situation.

You smile and shake your head.

“Do you want to kiss me at midnight?” You ask him with a grin.

“Please?”

As your friends countdown to midnight, your smile only grows the closer they get to zero. And, amid the shouts of happy new year, you finally kiss Llewyn, feeling warm and giddy and happier than ever.