#i will treat this as my public journal

[23z567]

I need to stop being mentally ill on here cuz i have like 160 followers but its so much easier letting the disorders hamg on tumblr other than persay twt cuz all of my private accs (EXPECT 1) have imaginary limits to what i can say

[spaceandbones]

its just ghoulish thoughts bouncing around in my head hours but I did always really hate it when men would ask me what my turn-ons are because it's impossible to tell Brad from Tinder that you usually get off by sticking your hands down your pants and picturing yourself being molested by something that crawled up from hell

[gifti3]

I still think obey me would have had an easier time writing better characters if they had actual routes (includes harem route) and better story segment to rhythm game ratios

[an-ascension-of-larks]

Do you ever get that weird feeling of like…. experiencing the way you interact with people from an outside perspective? And realizing how unlikable you are? And how cold and pretentious and superficial and stupid you must seem to others? And then you realize that you don’t know how to fix it, you don’t know how to act like a *normal likable person* and so you promise yourself that the next time you talk to someone, literally anyone, that you’ll think about what you’re saying and say things that make sense, that a normal human person would say? That would make people like you and want to be around you? And then you talk to your friends and you say something stupid and you realize that you forgot your promise?

And then you wonder how the hell anyone puts up with you?

Or is that just a me thing?

[pochapal]

2 sips of a diet coke and i'm already a third of the way done with this thing i have to do. who can take me.

[itsalwaysdark]

aww its kinda cute finding me complaining abt my dads whole lisa thing from 2017. honestly so overshadowed by everything else and also i was so annoying when i was 12 aw .

[beelzlikes]

I don't like taking a break in between these classes actually. I'd rather get them all done in one fell swoop. I lose my momentum with these breaks, and it makes me stay later just by the nature of how it works.

The teachers also want to talk to me in between classes and I kinda don't have the energy for that. Small talk is such a drain when I'm trying to stay focused and in a certain mood.

The main consolation here is I think I could do most anything for a lesson and the teachers wouldn't care. They're gonna go along with most everything I do.

And all this while still ignoring critical world events. I know so much misery and cruelty is happening right now, and I feel powerless enough as it is without those things compounding my anxiety.

Like I have only two half hours classes to go, and get I won't get out of here until 2:30 cause I have three breaks where I'm just waiting around. But whatever. It doesn't matter, and nobody cares. I'll be done with this, drive home, and start worrying about tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.

[cryptic-rainfall]

we NEED to bring back forums, I posted to a linux forum and got replies from complete strangers who were actually engaging with what I said a few hours later. the endorphins that gave me, why have we been letting forums die? they need to come back for more topics immediately

[lyraeon]

I am still just fuming about my bed frame situation.

My mattress is currently sitting in the middle of the floor in my living room, and has been for over a month now.

You see, when I moved here last fall, we couldn't fit the box spring down the steps (big wooden platform thing about the size of the mattress), and my bed frame *needs* that or at least some kind of platform because it's only really an H shape of supports, so my mattress just went on the floor in my bedroom and the frame was left unassembled in the corner until I could afford a different frame or a platform that would fit down the stairs.

Several months later, it comes to the attention of my dad that my bed is still on the floor, and he freaks out and tries to help. Now, normally my dad is very good at helping, but in this specific case, he just. bought the first bed platform he saw that made him go "ah, that should be easy to get down the stairs".

Problem was, what that "platform" was was a set of wooden slats strapped together, meant to bridge across a frame but be foldable. basically the oversized lovechild of window blinds and a Jacob's Ladder. And more accurately than that, it was *two* of said sets of slats, meaning it was made for a frame with a support down the middle as well... but not the H kind of support down the middle I had, one going the same way as the sides. So I told him before it even arrived, "this isn't going to work, it's incompatible with my frame" and he was like "I'm sure you'll figure it out, but if not just sell it off and I'll buy you a different frame". aka while not perfect, my dad was definitely trying his best and trying to help me, so he is only in this story because his "I'm sure you'll figure it out" was only the beginning.

I told some of my friends that the situation was going on and they were like "surely you can jerryrig something" and I was like, there is no way to get these to support the bed, my frame is just not meant for it, etc. This went back and forth with multiple people telling me that I was just being pessimistic and I wouldn't know until I tried.

So I assembled the bed frame, unpacked the wooden slats, and laid them out to show how wonderfully they *just completely flopped* as opposed to being a valid bed platform.

At this point one or two people backed down but the rest were like 'eh just put something in the middle to hold it up" and I was like "do you not understand how heavy I am and that I need my mattress to support me well????"

problem was, at this point, my bed frame was already assembled, and I already couldn't pull it back apart on my own. and I really needed somewhere to sleep. So I begrudgingly did indeed find some other stuff to semi-support the gap between the two slats, but mostly because I couldn't get my frame unassembled and at the time there was no other space in the house big enough to lay out my bed, so it was the only logical way to get some sleep.

enter the next two months of people continually telling me they're gonna come over and help me pull it apart and never showing. Meanwhile I'm basically sleeping on top of a flaccid ladder that's propped up by my grandma's old super sturdy suitcases and stacks of cardboard and my shoulder is worsening again by the day because of it.

during that time I explained the situation to my dad and he apologized for not believing me originally and sent me a new bed frame, so I at least theoretically wouldn't have to just put my mattress on the floor.

so one day I finally get sick of it all, rearrange my living room furniture to make room, and drag my mattress into the living room on my own. There, now if I can convince someone to come over and help they only need to be here for like 5 minutes! the mattress is out of the way, I just need them to yank in one direction on the frame and I'll yank in the other and if we just get either the head or footboard off I can turn the thing in a way that I can get the rest undone by myself.

Except this is such an overexertion that I collapse the next day and wind up in the hospital from dehydration and exhaustion.

Which ripple effects into two weeks wherein I was hospitalized three times before they finally figured out I also had a kidney infection and that's why I couldn't seem to get hydrated on my own, and then I still wind up with a fourth time before it cleared up and by then I was so weak I had to be held up by the firefighters to get up the stairs.

And that also meant that any "hey can you spare 20 minutes of your week to do something for me?" "credit" I felt like I had with any relatives in town got used up on asking them to drive me home from the hospital.

So my bed remains on the living room floor, and my bedroom has been unused for about a month now, and by now I've had to just close the door because I start crying when I look in there. I sold off the slats the other day finally so I don't have to look at them rolled up in the corner anymore, but fuck I miss not being in this big open room every night and not being right underneath where the neighbors are at their loudest.

I could just go ahead and assemble the new bedframe here in the living room, put my mattress on it, surrender to the fact I'm just living in only one room of my apartment now and wasting the other. (and I can't move my computer into the bedroom because it's right under where the neighbor sleeps and since I work at night it'd keep her up) But I don't feel like I gain much by my bed being not on the floor, though it'll be hot enough soon that the air circulation would probably be welcomed. And I don't know if I'll be able to assemble or disassemble it on my own, and don't know if that kind of exertion is just going to break me again.

The landlord has a handyman coming over for some other stuff this week so I'll probably just offer him some cash to help me at this point. Which, mind you, I've offered money to my cousins to help but they just keep ending up too busy or forgetting.

Am I mad at the people who said they'd come over and help but didn't? Yeah, a little. But they have their own lives, and they aren't who put me into this situation.

The half dozen or so people, including my dad, who all insisted that I could make it work SOMEHOW and refused to hear it was impossible until they were actually shown photographic evidence? That's who I'm mad at.

Because as with so many other parts of my life, when I tell people what I'm earnestly capable of, or tell them something isn't going to work, I'm always told to not be a pessimist or that I'll never know until I try or that I'm just trying to get out of putting in effort or whatever else, and then I am pressured to try their solution that I already know isn't going to work before anyone is willing to help me in a way that actually could help. And then I have to pay the price for it in terms of time lost and ligaments injured.

Could I just have not listened to them and not tried to begin with? Possibly, probably. My therapist and I've been talking about why I felt I had to do what they said anyway, and when I gave examples of when I've had to do it in the past she pointed out that those were all at work so I was required to follow orders to some extent, but that if these are supposedly my friends then I should feel ok saying no to them, and if I don't feel ok saying no to them I should look for new friends.

And while I think she's right about the work thing, I also just know that this is going to be a forever part of my life. No one is ever satisfied with what I'm actually capable of, they all want an imaginary faster, stronger, more emotionally stable, not chronically ill version of me. And I made the mistake of trying to achieve that bar for far, far too long, and just tore myself apart even quicker, so now they all are like "but I've seen you do it!" and I'm just.

No.

If I say I can't, I can't. I do not give up easily. I am stubborn to an absolute fault (see, y'know, putting the frame together in a fit of "fine, look, I'll just show you!" for example) and will continue trying to do things for eons past when I should have given up or admitted something wasn't working. I am not "giving up before I've even tried", I've evaluated the situation and seen that that's not going to work within my capabilities (or just flat out the laws of physics in some cases!) and am not going to use up some of my limited reserves on something with a like 3% success possibility when I'm sure there are workable options out there.

ARGH!

[homey-worshiper]

low energy devotion acts for lady hestia

{something i do when i either feel very bad or just don't have much energy}

sometimes veiling takes a tool on me, being judged and whispered about when im in public, so in times when it's really hard i just get my hair in a bun, out of my face

slow down when eating, i have a habbit of forgetting to eat and when i actually eat i do it in seconds, but when i catch myself i try to simply slow down, give thanks to lady hestia

have a pinterest boards dedicated to decor you want to have, want to make

and also a pinterest boards dedicated to food you like or want to make, cozy hobbies you want to try, maybe crafts that you already know how to make, i feel so connected to lady hestia every time i find a new craft i can make {and use as decor later}

journaling, even if i just write one sentence in a week, maybe i don't write at all i just open my journal and take in the energy i already put in it

i feel like lady hestia likes when you write for her, no matter what it is, poetry, short stories, journals, prayer, tumblr post, everything

setting my phone aside and not looking at the time, slowing down, taking as much time as i need, letting my body clock decide when to pick up work and when to do have cozy time

nap, sleep, staying in bed for those additional 5 minutes

treating drinking my morning coffee as a ritual, even if im doing something while drinking, it's like every sip of my hot beverage is a step in the ritual

wearing jewellery that reminds me of her, i try to keep the ring dedicated to her on the altar so everything i need to pick it up ismts full of her gentle energy

letting myself be bored and not do anything, instead of stressing what to do next just to do something

[trans-axolotl]

ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.  

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. 

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. 

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!" 

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence. 

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized. 

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us. 

Max Beck, 1997.

[bunny-jpeg]

i testify this love

fernando alonso prompt: sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them

tags: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, stroll!reader, alcohol consumption, age gaps (20s/40s), getting caught, against-the-window sex, canadian!reader (🫡🍁)

the pastel collection (coming soon)

it started out the evening after the canadian grand prix. while your brother still couldn't bring the title home for canada. your lover did surprisingly well.

"third isn't terrible, honey." you said as you stayed curled up with your much older lover on the couch. his hand around you and up against your ass. you were both on the couch in your apartment in the city. fernando didn't have to leave until wednesday which meant you had some time with your lover.

he held onto you and smiled down at you, you felt your heart flutter. fernando alonso was your man.

the man was a good deal older than you, but you were still an adult. despite how your family sometimes treated you, you were a mature young lady who was pursuing a career in journalism at concordia. it was a charmed life, but yet you missed your lover.

"wanted to win it. because if lance wasn't going to win it. i at least wanted you to have my trophy in your home while we were apart." fernando replied as he took a sip of his drink before he leaned over to kiss you on the lips.

fernando had recently started to consider the canadian grand prix as a secondary 'home' race, he spent most of the off season with you if you weren't with him at his home in spain." he had grown to love montreal, even though your brother hadn't lived there in forever, it was still your home. you found it charming that fernando felt that way.

you sipped your wine and rubbed your legs together. just enough wine made you turned on, it also didn't help that it was hot in the city and the wine only raised your temperature. and there weren't many layers left to shed. you were in a tank top and flannel shorts.

fernando ran his hand up into your hair and played with the stands before he leaned in to kiss you lightly on the lips. you got closer to him. wine glass in one hand while you ran your hand across his abdomen. he had made himself quite comfortable in your apartment. and you find it particularly endearing.

when you got up to get more wine however, that was when the true fernando alonso came out. while he spoiled you in many ways, he also spoiled himself on you. so when you got up, he followed. in front of the large window of your apartment, he took you by the waist and kissed you on the lips. he took the wine glass out of your hand and placed in on a nearby table. you moaned into the kiss and fernando savoured it.

he held you tightly in his arms and you looked at him with a knowing look. he kissed you once more and like a magic trick your tank top was off. you were forced to step back and your lover had you up against the large window.

while you weren't in the tallest apartment building in the city, you had faith that no one could see what was going to happen. you placed both hands on fernando's chest and looked him in the eyes.

you giggled a little as you draped your arms around his shoulders soon after and went in for another kiss. there was something electric about your lover. despite the age gap, he knew exactly how to make you squirm. fernando placed his hands on your hips and got your shorts down, he eyed your pretty panties before you ended up seated on the edge of the window and those panties were taken from you.

you in turn stripped fernando of his clothes, admiring him when he got his shirt over his head and his cock out of his sweatpants. the angle was a little awkward but fernando had you pressed up against the glass of the window. it quickly fogged up and he sank himself into you.

"fuck, honey." you arched your back a little and clutched onto your lover's shoulders. you felt a shudder of want through you as you two fucked against the window.

fernando admired you, the shape of your body. the little dimples in your skin. he couldn't believe you were related to lance. while he wasn't ugly by any means, it seemed like you got all the good looks. not that fernando was complaining, he'd rather fuck you than your brother.

he kissed up your neck and you tilted your head back as your backside rubbed against the cool window. it felt nice against the heat in your skin. you moaned a little louder and clutched onto his shoulders tightly.

"mmm, i know why your father didn't want you on the track. cause all kinds of problems." he groaned into your ear as his thrusts picked up momentum. you could feel the tightness of pleasure curl in the back of your brain.

you groaned, "please, fuck. fernando." you then laid a messy kiss square on his mouth and he melted into the kiss. your legs remained wrapped around him as he continued to thrust up into you.

he knew you hated talking about family while the two of you fucked. but he also knew it turned you on even more. to know that you were being a bad girl. well that was something else. his words were filthy as he said, "if they could see you now. i bet they know already, they've seen us together. everyone knows about you and i, but i wonder how much they know about what we get up to in the bedroom." he kissed the corner of your mouth and your core throbbed.

"please."

it only spurred your lover on, "i know lance knows. he isn't a stupid boy." he fucked your faster, his hands tightly on your hips as he made you hit up against the window, "you weren't quiet in the hotel room a few weeks back. you came to see your brother win and instead you didn't even go to the race."

you remembered it vividly, it wasn't that long ago. but you remembered the feeling of him inside of you. the light filtering through the window. he fucked you up against the bed, the headboard rocked heavily. only accompanied by your moans and fernando's attempts to quiet you down.

"please, honey." you shifted your hips a little as the wood of the ledge dug into your behind. he fucked you with a heavy force that made all rationale leave your brain. it was hard to have some semblance of control when fernando was making a beautiful mess of your soaked, achy cunt.

you could never deny yourself a lover like fernando. even if he raced for another team, you'd still be keeping his cock warm every chance you got. he spurred something in you. the stroll daughter who was on honour roll every year, who was a top pick for one of the highest ranked universities in canada. a star in your own right. and fernando enabled a darker part of you, spurred on a sort of sexual deviancy as he fucked you with a heavy passion.

"if they don't know by now. then i'll make them know. imagine your father's shock if he saw your poor neck covered in bites or your thighs covered in bruises i gave you." he moved faster. he hit against all the softest parts of you and it made euphoria shiver through your core.

for a man his age, he still fucked like a man in his prime. he'd still consider himself still in his prime.

you panted heavily and held onto him tightly. your skin felt cool, but also burning hot from the hot intensity of your fucking. your noises were a little louder, but this was the privacy of your own home. you could let yourself be loud.

it didn't help that fernando had the sort of dirty talk that melted you like ice. any exterior you put up was easily pulled down by the sultry words of your older lover. you clawed at his back, his shoulder strong and when he beard rubbed up against the soft skin of your neck, your toes curled.

his hot breath against you as the two of you continued to fuck up against your window. the city alive below as the two of you moved against one another. everything felt more alive, heated beyond measure. there was something about your fernando that left you breathless. he held onto you tightly by the hips.

"only you." he said with heavy affection.

you smiled at him, something else besides hot lust bloomed in your chest. love. total love for your darling man. you superstar, your lover. you kissed him once more. his scratchy beard under your fingertips.

the kiss deepened as you felt the height of pleasure in your system. the bloom of it throughout you as he continued to fuck you. your toes curled and your back arched before you came around his cock. your orgasmic noises muffled by his lips against yours. a shudder went through you as you were chest to chest.

"amazing. you feel amazing." his pace staggered as he felt himself close to climax as well. his lips touched the side of your neck, he almost sank his blunt teeth into your skin as he came inside of you. his pace continued through his climax. he could feel a little weaker in the knees and his back hurt from the angle. but regardless he continued to shove every inch inside of you.

he wanted you to remember him after he left for the next race. a familiar ache from his bruising pace.

"fernando. ah." you said softly as he slowed to a stop. when he pulled out, you slumped up against the glass. it was fogged up and a bit warm by now. but it supported you while you got your bearings.

you both looked at each other and a sly smile crossed your face. he looked back at you with those daring brown eyes, he crowded your space and pulled you in for another heated kiss.

you knew this wasn't the only round tonight.

-

the next morning you could already feel the embarrassment in your ears before your father spoke. it was the ultimate downside of your father being your boyfriend's boss and your brother being his teammate. anything between you two was a family affair.

lawrence pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked at you. in the chair beside you was fernando, who looked he had gone through something like this a dozen times. your father asked, 'care to explain why both ctv and le journal de montréal have photos and you and fernando having sex?"

you meekly replied, "invasion of privacy." with the most unassured shrug you could muster. your father looked at you and you quickly adverted your gaze. next time, you'd make sure to close the blinds. <3

[starmosaics]

Many Rohinis are known for being in the public eye and having an infectious presence— whether it’s good or bad, eyes are on them, but from my observations and my own personal experience along with having loved ones with Rohini placements, most of us feel like we’re playing a part.

You can find Rohinis sometimes unknowingly play into someone’s projections or fantasies of them, other times they’re entirely aware. This may leave the Rohini native feeling alone and misunderstood because of their tendency to show people what they want to see, not who they actually are within. I feel like people tend to have this “idea” about Rohinis that can be so far off from the reality that at times the Rohini native may unconsciously absorb whatever that idea of them is. The Moon is receptive meaning it is constantly receiving stimuli and is sensitive to its environment; it can be easily influenced. Rohinis also receive a lot of passivity, jealousy and anger from people when they don’t match that person’s idea of them. However you perceive a Rohini to be, in worst cases the Rohini can mirror it back to you as we know the Moon reflects.

Marilyn Monroe for example had a Rohini Sun and was either loved or totally loathed by the public and had this reputation for being this beautiful and sensual actress. She often publicly portrayed herself as this innocent woman with a teasing presence that made men go crazy for her, yet she had a very sorrowful and vulnerable side that not many people got to see.

She was known for something called “The Marilyn Monroe Effect” where she would alter herself into a persona which caught people’s eyes. Essentially, Marilyn was wearing a mask. She was a character perceived as a sex symbol by the male gaze.

In her journal entries, Marilyn wrote about loneliness. Bette Davis also said she could sense Marilyn’s loneliness when asked about the actress as she and Marilyn starred in a film together.

Another example is Rohini Sun Priscilla Beaulieu who was 14 when she met her future husband Elvis Presley who was significantly older than her. She was heavily idealized by Elvis and was deemed to have an innocence that Elvis favored. Elvis claimed that he could “train her anyway he wanted.” He ended up doing exactly that; molding her into his fantasy wife, treating her as if she was a doll. He made her dress a certain way, he made her wear makeup and told her to dye her hair and she willingly did out of love for Elvis to embody being “the perfect wife”. Once again, here’s an example of a Rohini playing a role and being shaped by those surrounding them. She also had a lot of Elvis’ fans show disdain towards her as she was dating one of the biggest stars at the time.

In the 2023 film “Priscilla” directed by Sofia Coppola, based on Priscilla’s book “Elvis and Me”, it dives into Priscilla’s backstory. The director perfectly depicts how lonely Priscilla was standing beside Elvis. Many of the scenes within this film show Priscilla being alone in a large empty house.

Rohinis often put their best foot forward to show the world and those they love much like Marilyn and Priscilla did and as a Rohini Sun myself, I can heavily relate. It would make sense for people with this nakshatra in their charts to do such since Rohini is Lunar in nature and the Moon has a mysterious and deep side; being selective as to what you present to the masses (Moon rules masses). There’s a very soft, vulnerable and somewhat melancholic side of Rohini that they possess.

It’s a very vulnerable thing to unmask and show the real and raw unfiltered self when you’re idealized by others or expected to show up a certain way, and it can be a very isolating feeling to not feel understood by anybody which is a very familiar phenomenon to those with Rohini placements. When people don't grasp your nature, thoughts and feelings, it can create a profound sense of isolation, making you feel alone even when surrounded by others, which is what I meant by in an earlier post about how Rohinis may feel alone in a room full of people. To be unknown or misunderstood is to be lonely.

[wifeyoozi]

kinktober week 1.3 - semi-public sex

nerdy whore - j.ww (semi-public, degradation, subwonu, slight cum eating)

The library was always the perfect place for Wonwoo. Quiet, secluded, and filled with rows and rows of books, it was his sanctuary. He could escape into his own world, whether that was through textbooks or something a little more risqué when he was sure no one else was around. There was something comforting about being surrounded by knowledge while indulging in his secret pleasures.

Lately, though, Wonwoo’s reading habits had shifted. Sure, he still buried himself in textbooks and academic journals, but he’d developed a habit of sneaking off to the furthest corner of the library to read smut novels. Not just any kind of smut, though—he was particularly fond of the ones where the man was the submissive partner, being used and degraded by someone else. The idea made his heart race in a way that nothing else did. He was hooked on the humiliation, the power dynamic.

But today was different.

Today, Wonwoo wasn’t in the library to read.

Instead, he found himself pressed up against the far back wall, hidden behind towering shelves, with his legs splayed out in front of him. The rough carpet of the library floor scratched his skin through his clothes, but he hardly noticed. He was far too focused on you—straddling his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders as you rocked your hips against him. His cock was buried deep inside you, and you moved with a steady, relentless rhythm that had him biting his lip to keep from making any noise.

The library was technically empty, but there was always the risk that someone could wander in at any moment. That only heightened the tension for him, made the sensation of you using his body even more intense.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, Wonwoo?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you teased him, your voice dripping with condescension. “Sitting here like the little slut you are, letting me ride your cock like it’s all you’re good for.”

Wonwoo’s face flushed a deep red at your words, his hands gripping your thighs as you bounced on top of him. He loved the way you talked to him like this, the way you made him feel small and submissive. His heart was pounding in his chest, not just from the pleasure but from the fear that someone might walk in at any second and catch him being used like this.

His breath came out in ragged gasps, and he tried to hold back the whimpers that threatened to spill from his lips. He knew the library was usually empty during this hour of the day, but the thought of someone catching him in this humiliating position made his cock throb even harder inside you.

You laughed softly, noticing how desperate he was becoming. “You like that, don’t you? You like being my little slut, don’t you, Wonwoo?”

He nodded weakly, biting his lip as his eyes fluttered closed. The degrading words you whispered in his ear sent shivers down his spine, making his body feel like it was on fire.

“I asked you a question,” you said more sharply, your hand coming up to grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” Wonwoo stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His mind was foggy with pleasure, but he still managed to choke out the words you wanted to hear. “I love it.”

You smirked down at him, your hips grinding down harder against him, making him groan. “That’s what I thought,” you purred, running your fingers through his hair before yanking his head back slightly. “Such a pathetic little nerd, getting off to me treating you like trash. I bet you’d love it if someone walked in right now, wouldn’t you? You’d love for them to see you being used like the little slut you are.”

Wonwoo’s entire body tensed at the thought, his cock twitching inside you. He shook his head, trying to deny it, but the way his body responded told a different story.

“Oh, don’t lie,” you taunted, grinding down on him harder, the slickness between your thighs making every movement more sinful, more obscene. “You’d love it if someone saw you like this, wouldn’t you? All fucked out and helpless, taking whatever I give you.”

“N-no,” he gasped, though his voice trembled with uncertainty, as if even he didn’t believe what he was saying.

You laughed darkly, leaning in closer to whisper against his ear. “Liar.”

The word sent a shiver down his spine, an d before he could respond, you lifted your hips slightly, pulling almost completely off his cock before slamming back down on him, making his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. His eyes squeezed shut, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to stifle the moan that threatened to spill out.

“Look at you,” you continued, your voice low and dripping with contempt. “Such a mess already, and we’ve only just started. You’re such a good little toy for me, Wonwoo. Always so obedient, always so desperate.”

His chest heaved with every breath, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely think straight. You had him completely at your mercy, and he loved every second of it.

“I-I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice shaking with both pleasure and fear. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he tried to focus on the sensation of you riding him, the overwhelming pleasure building inside him with each movement.

“You’re pathetic,” you spat, your voice sharp and cutting. “Can’t even fuck me properly, can you? You’re just sitting here, letting me do all the work while you sit there like a dumb little nerd. Is this what you dream about when you’re reading all those filthy novels in the back of the library? Being used like this?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shot open at your words, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. You knew about that? His secret indulgence, the smutty novels he read when no one was around, the ones that always ended with the man on the bottom, being degraded and used like a — you knew?

“Y-you… how did you know?” he stammered, his voice breathless as he stared up at you in shock.

You smirked, tightening your grip on his shoulders as you leaned down to whisper in his ear again. “I’ve seen you, Wonwoo. I’ve seen you hiding in the back with your face buried in those dirty books. You’re so obvious. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

His mind was spinning, the humiliation of being caught mixing with the intense pleasure of your body moving against his. His cock twitched inside you, betraying just how much your words were turning him on.

“You’re such a little pervert,” you continued, your tone mocking as you ground down harder on him, making him whimper. “Reading all those dirty books, getting off to the thought of someone using you like this. Well, now you get to live out your fantasy, isn’t that right?”

Wonwoo could only nod, his head spinning with pleasure and shame. His hands gripped your hips harder as he tried to focus on holding back the orgasm that was quickly building inside him. He didn’t want this to end yet—not when you were using him like this, treating him like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure.

“Such a good little slut,” you praised, your voice dripping with mock affection as you continued to ride him. “You love it, don’t you? Being used like this, treated like trash. You’re my good little slut, aren’t you, Wonwoo?”

“Y-yes,” he gasped, his voice barely audible as he struggled to keep his composure. “I’m your slut. Please…”

“Please what?” you asked, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you stared down at him. “What do you want, Wonwoo? Do you want to cum?”

He nodded desperately, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Please… please let me cum.”

But you only smirked, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear again. “Not yet,” you whispered, your voice dark and teasing. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

A whimper escaped his lips as he bucked his hips up toward you, desperate for more stimulation. His entire body was trembling with the effort of holding back, his cock twitching helplessly inside you.

“Please…” he begged, his voice breaking as he stared up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I can’t hold it…”

“You’ll hold it,” you commanded, your voice firm as you continued to ride him. “You don’t get to cum yet, Wonwoo. You’re going to wait until I tell you to. Understand?”

He nodded weakly, his entire body tense with the effort of holding back his release. His hands gripped your hips so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

The fear of being caught still hung in the air, amplifying the intensity of every movement, every word. His heart pounded in his chest as he fought to hold back, his entire body trembling with the effort.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you leaned down to press a soft kiss against his lips, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Now.”

The moment the word left your lips, Wonwoo’s entire body tensed, his cock twitching violently inside you as he came with a loud, desperate moan. His release was immediate, hot and thick, spilling inside you as his body shook with the force of his orgasm.

You rode him through it, milking every last drop from him as he collapsed back ln the wall, his eyes shut as he tried to catch your dress. You lifted yourself off him, two fingers collecting Wonwoo's cum beneath yourself. "Open," you ordered, and watched Wonwoo follow without questioning, taking your fingers in his mouth and tasting his own cum. You pushed your fingers to the back of his throat, watching where his gag reflex stops you.

"Good boy," you giggle as you get up, using Wonwoo's handkerchief to wipe between your legs, before pulling back on your panties and adjusting down your skirt. "I'll meet you here again tomorrow, nerd."

[clearheartsgreyflowerss]

Hi! Could I have some Arlecchino x fem reader fluff? Maybe going on a date together?

I am also currently obsessed with her, she’s just so askdskejdhdbdbdn >///<

Thank you!

YES THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOU JUST MADE MY DAY :D

Also that's literally so real she's taken over all my thoughts and she lives in my head absolutely rent free

A date with Mon ange - Arlecchino x fem!reader

This is NOT proofread if you see any grammar mistakes no you didn't

"My dear, with all due respect, I love your cookies but you burnt the hell out of them."

To say today was a disaster was an understatement, you didn't wake up to your alarm clock, which meant you missed the morning market where you often got some of Alrecchino's and Lynette's favorite treats. Not only that, but just an hour later, freminet came home with a large gash on his leg, which he had gotten when trying to maneuver through a shipwreck out at sea. Then, some of the children had roped you into playing games with them, and promptly forgot you had cookies in the oven.

So, it's safe to say Arlecchino's remark ended with you being even madder than before, even if you knew she was just making an observation.

"well if they're so burnt, bake them yourself next time!" You quickly stomped out of the room, hanging up your apron as you walked past the door. You quickly walked up the stairs and down the hall to your room, and slammed the door behind. You sat down at the small desk where you kept all of your stationary and makeup, immediately looking around for anything that couldn't be broken (or at least something not of high importance). Luckily, there was a small journal in the drawer, and you decided it would be better to journal then take your anger out on some poor object. After about 3 pages were filled, the sound of the door startled you a little, yet you kept writing in journal. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, and a kiss was planted on top of your head. Neither of you chose to speak, you just kept writing anything and everything, and she watched.

"would you like to go out to dinner tonight mon ange? I'm sure the maids can handle the children for tonight."

She finally broke the silence, and you put the pen and paper down. A small smile came across your face, as you finally looked up to see her face. While she often kept the neutral looking expression, you could see the difference in her eyes, a look of sadness from upsetting you was clear.

"that sounds lovely Alrecchino, where do you want to go?"

"you choose, we can go anywhere in Fontaine, don't worry about the cost." You were quick to open your mouth about not wanting to overspend, but she placed a kiss to your forehead, making your protests stop.

"you've had a bad day, you deserve whatever your heart desires [Name]." How she knew you had a bad day was above you, though you presumed she had guessed just from the way you lashed out.

"well then, I suppose I could go for some Tripes du Port right about now" your words brought a small smile to her face, and she placed one last small kiss on your head, before standing up.

"To the hotel debord it is then."

The hotel was never short of amazing, all the decorations so elegant, yet so simple at the same time. The two of you sat down in a corner of the restaurant, a candle in the center illuminating both your menus.

"What are you going to get Arle? You always seem to change it up when we come here." She didn't look up from her menu as you spoke, instead she focused on even more.

"I suppose I'll get cassoulet, I don't think I've tried it here yet." She set her menu down and gave you another small smile, one she often didn't flash in public, but she was sure no one was looking.

"oh and darling, you look great in that outfit, you should wear it more often." She took your hand and rubbed your hand reassuringly, her words were definitely ones you needed to hear.

"I'm glad you think so Arle, I bought it recently and haven't had any chances to wear it. I thought tonight would be a nice night to show it off." She took note of how you messed with the hem of the fabric, a tell tale sign you were flattered by her compliments.

The waitress walked over with 2 glasses of wine, and smiled at both of you as she pulled out a paper and pen

"what can I get you two tonight? If you're still not sure, I can come back in a few minutes." You smiled and nodded as both her and Arlecchino looked at you, it looks like you would be ordering first.

"I'll have the Tripes du Port please, oh, and a slice of your blueberry pie." You flash her another smile as you hand her the menu, and look over to Arle as she orders

"I'll have the cassoulet, please and thank you." The waitress nods as she finishes writing, and takes Arlecchino's menu.

"merci, I'll be back with those as soon as they're done!" The waitress gives one last smile before she walks off, and it's just you and Arlecchino again. She picks up her wine glass and takes a sip, before looking at you with expectancy.

"well drink up dear, you deserve it."

All of that food and wine practically made you forget about all of your problems from the day. Well, Arlecchino was the real reason, but having something to talk over definitely was helping. You couldn't help but smile and laugh at all of her stories, telling your own in return. You two were at the register, Arlecchino paying for your meals as you kept one hand tightly around hers.

"merci beaucoup! s'il vous plaît, revenez bientôt!"

(thank you very much! Please come again soon!)

Both you and Arlecchino say thank you as you walk out the doors, the cool Fontaine air hitting you the second you leave.

"thank you for tonight Arle, you don't know how much I appreciate it." You give her a soft smile, which melts her heart a little more each time she sees it.

"it's no problem dear, you had quite the interesting day" she chuckled, and ran her thumb across the back of your hand, still seemingly trying to comfort you. You laughed along with her, though the both of you went quiet just after; Slowly taking king in the beauty of Fontaine on the walk back to the house.

The two of you made it back just fine, and you walked home to a entrance that seemed cleaner than before. Alrecchino could already see the panic setting into your face, and she just sighed and placed a kiss to your cheek.

"I promise I gave the maids permission to clean without you here, and I made sure they did it to your tastes my dear. Is that all you're worried about?" You seemed to think for a moment, before quickly realizing the many responsibilities you didn't attend to today.

"oh my God I forgot to clean Lyney and Lynettes stage outfits! And I never went back to help the younger children with their homework and-" Arlecchino took off your coat as you rambled on, taking both yours and hers over to the coat rack while half listening to you. She came back and wrapped her hands around your waist, and nestled her face into the crook of your neck, placing a few light kisses against it.

"[name], did you write this all down in your journal earlier?"

"yes well-" you finally snapped out of your thoughts, and despite not being able to see it, you could sense the grin on her face.

"...you gave that list to the maids didn't you."

"if it makes you feel better, I rewrote it and handed that list to the maids, I left out the things you said about me, after all, some things are better kept secret, Mon ange." you groaned at her teasing words, yet ultimately thanked her for it.

"then I guess I owe you a big thanks Arle, you're amazing." You pressed your lips to hers, giving her yet another small smile.

"how about you show me how thankful you are right now and come lay down with me." Her hands unwrapped from around your waist, and she moved to take your hand and lead you towards the stairs. You happily followed behind her, curious to see just what she had in store for you.

I DONT KNOW HOW TO FINISH THIS IM GOING TO CRY BUT (HOPEFULLY) THERE WILL BE A PART 2

anyway I'm so so so sorry this took me so long, turns out musical + con preparations + school don't make for a great writing time. Thank you 🪼 anon for waiting, I'm sorry if you think this is shit it kind of is (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

Daily click to help those in Palestine

[liliewrites]

Omg! Omg! Omg! Hiiii!!

*waves the flag aggressively* 🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭

It's nice to see fellow pinoy here! :DD

I hope summer is treating you well! Is it okay if I request a bassist! Arlecchino and photographer! Reader? I feel like they would be such a cute pair, and imagine if they're in uni or high school and the reader is part of the student publication as a photographer journalist and the school has an event and she would just take dozen pics of arle (not in a creepy way) while she's playing for the School band, omg that would be so cute!

HELLOOOOO OMGG KABABAYAN?? HAHAHAH HALLOO:DD but yes i can see the vision hihi this is so cute, u bet i'll b writing this i love high school teenage sapphics they're so stupidly cute uwahjdwas this is giving mitsuki koga x aya oosawa/marceline x pb/himari kino x yori asanagi vibes i keep gushing about it.

-warning/s ; none, just silly girls in love:D also, i'll be using arlecchino's childhood name to make it less fictiony-ish. i hope all of u don't mind:D also peruere is a cute name..

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men please dni utc)

you'd never admit it, but you were one of those who had a crush on that popular bassist from the local band at your school, nuit rouge.

peruere snezhevna. even her name rolled off your tongue in such a smooth manner. she was beloved all around campus, especially amongst the women as she had such that cool and handsome appeal to her. she was tall, smart, athletic and a bassist with that apathetic cool guy charm to her like in those silly little shoujo animes-- you'd never admit it, but you were a victim of her charms as well. why? well, obviously because she has more than enough admirers already, she'd never notice you. so you decided to just lay low in the background and admire her secretly.

whenever your friends all gush about said bassist, you try to act as uninterested as possible, like you don't know nothing about her. "per.. per who?" you'd ask while looking at your phone just to make your friends stop talking about her to you. like your silly little crush on her, you'd never admit it (even to yourself), but you felt annoyed to hear other girls talk about her.

however, you were part of the school's journalism club, and your assigned category was photojournalism, making you the campus' designated resident photographer. as duty calls, you were tasked to take photos for the upcoming foundation day event. you had to listen to the writers' requests, as it was your task as well to catch the photos they'll be using for their assigned part in the school paper.

right now, you were with one of the news writers, charlotte, taking photos of her and the said local school band. you can remember your good friend's words before she dragged you here before you could even say a thing, "oh, y/n! y/n! come on hurry! i have to interview nuit rogue before the others do, covering them is my one way ticket to the paper's front page!"

so like the good photographer you are, you silently stood in the back, taking photos (with the band's consent, of course) while they talked with charlotte. it was mostly wriothesley who did the talking though.

as you peaked through your camera's lens, maybe you were crazy- but you thought you saw peruere staring back at you. flustered, you looked away for a little, pretending to take a photo of something else (which you probably looked like an idiot doing so, as everyone knows you're taking photos of the band, why were you pointing your camera at the wall?). when you looked back, peruere was talking now, her gaze back on charlotte.

with a breath of relief, you went back to capturing photos of the said band. the lens of your camera lingering on the bassist a bit too longer than you noticed, but she did.

eventually, the time for them to perform had come, just right after lure and 5WIRL. you had the freedom to roam around the stage to take photos, so you did- as your friend charlotte had urged you to do.

you were currently kneeling in front of the stage to hide your presence a bit, letting your camera do it's thing while they perform. multiple names were being screamed, but you were only focused on one thing-- on peruere on your camera.

"kyaaa! childe! look my way, please!"

"wriothesley!! you're so cool!"

you didn't mind their continuous screaming, you were just in the middle of the audience and the band. of course you'd hear all their fanchants and calling of their names. you continued looking through your camera's lens, focusing on peruere that right moment to capture perfect photos of the band members.

"aaaaaaaa, it's the knave! she's so handsome!"

-- for some reason, your ear started to ring in an annoying way, so you quickly and silently walked away from the crowd.

moments later, charlotte grabbed your camera from you to look at the photos. "oh, y/n.. what would i do without you??" she exclaimed, smiling at the photos in your camera. "these photos are all good.. but why are they mostly focused on that.. the knave girl?" she asked and your eyes widened, oh crap- you forgot to hide the other photos you took of her for.. for educational purposes, of course.

quick, y/n! think of a stupid excuse!

"uhm- well, she's famous.. i just thought it'd be good to capture a few extra shots of her." you lied, which charlotte bought almost immediately, much to your relief. "hm, you have a point! she is quite famous amongst the ladies.. i might make a cover story about her!"

you went home after that day, going through the photos in your camera.. to study how you caught the photos this time, of course. you know.. see how you can improve and all, to see your flaws and mistakes. definitely not to look at the photos of peruere that you took.

anyway, you looked at it, and you couldn't help but feel that silly little pang! pang! in your chest. she looked so.. cool. that serious expression on her face as her fingers plucked the string of her bass, you could remember the scene playing vividly in front of you- sweat dripping down her forehead, with her looking down at the fretboard and back at the audience, before singing a few lines.

"y/n, honey! are you in there? it's time for dinner!"

"crap- mom, don't you know how to knock?! i almost dropped my camera!"

you froze for a second, chest heaving from being startled. it wasn't a lie that you almost dropped your camera.

"my bad, dear. you weren't answering.. so i thought you were asleep."

you sighed, looking at your mom apologetically for shouting at her. you placed down your camera and went with her anyway, joining her and your siblings for dinner.

the next day, oh, archons-

the next day was annoying as hell. charlotte's interview with nuit rogue was on the front page as expected, and the three members were the talk of the town once again. you could hear their names buzzing all throughout campus. one of your friends came running to you, oh great, you immediately knew what would be the first thing that'd come out of their mouth.

"y/n! did you see peruere yesterday? she was so coool! surely, you did! you must think she's so cool now, right??"

called it. you sighed, walking with her with a forced uninterested face. "yeah. i was the photographer, of course i'd get to see their performance. upclose, even." you told her, earning you an envious pout and a hit to the shoulder from your friend. "no fair! ugh, you're so lucky.."

were you even? you just got to see her upclose. not like you were able to talk to her. not like she was able to notice you anyway.

you shrugged your friend's whims away and continued on with your day.

you went through your first few classes just as usual, and now you're currently in the comfort room to wash your hands before eating. minding your own business, you were startled when you heard someone talk behind you.

"excuse me, are you.. are you y/n? the photographer..?"

you look behind you and you felt like your heart would once again jump out of your heart (willingly) at the sight of her, peruere. you slowly nod, not exactly sure if you could spit out words. ".. do you hate me?" she asked, much to your surprise. you almost choked on your own spit, hearing that.

"n-no! no no no, i don't.. why- where did you get the idea??"

you panicked, you were nervous at the thought of her thinking that you disliked her when it was really the opposite and the girl in front of you looked somewhat relieved, but she stared at you with curiosity and worry.. but you convinced yourself you were hallucinating. no way, why would she be worried?? "at the foundation day, you were glaring at me. i was just wondering since then if i've ever offended you." she told you, making you almost choke on your spit the second time, where was she getting these ideas??? "p-peruere, no! i wasn't glaring at you.." you exclaimed, leaning back as she leaned in closer, as if studying your face. you looked away, a bit flustered. "peruere..?" you asked, and she sighed as she leaned back again.

"i'm not buying it. you can't even look at me. please, let me make it up to you."

she held out her hand, holding tickets in front of you. "let's go watch a concert together. my treat."

you felt as if your legs had turned to jelly at her words- your crush was offering you to go watch a concert together?? and you were quick to refuse, embarrassed. "no, no! peruere, it's fine. i'm not ma-"

"no, i insist. i'll see you on saturday. send me your location and i'll come pick you up."

she grabbed your hand, placed the tickets in your palm, closed it and smiled at you. maybe you were crazy- but you felt as if she held your hand for a long, long, stupidly long time (she was).

"i don't like it when i offend people, miss y/n. so let me, okay?"

you were just- just taken aback at this point. you felt like you were dreaming. ".. okay, peruere. i uhm, thank you.." you told her. she nodded at your words in approval. "okay. i'll see you around, miss y/n." she politely excused herself and you just realized that she had just let go of your hand when she left.

now you were in bed. staring at the tickets in your hand.

your crush really asked you to go to a concert with her.

it was hard for you to wrap you lovestruck mind around it, and you started rolling around in your bed and kicking your feet like a madman.

"peruere- she really invited me!"

you exclaimed in your pillow, blushing and squealing. in the midst of your screaming and feet kicking fangirling session. your phone buzzed and you immediately picked it up.

@perrie_knave followed you.

@perrie_knave sent you a message.

your eyes widened and you immediately felt like you were about to explode.

what the hell are you going to reply??

a/n ; u win, anon. i love this concept so much. i'm going to start planning. a oneshot isn't enough to justify this. i need silly little girls falling in love. does anyone want to see a socmed au of this?? oh who cares, i'm doing it anyway.