#it was inherently Not Good tv and you know it

[denimshortsdean]

just gonna say it, i don't think the writers had a fucking clue what they were doing from season 10 onwards. sure we had some good episodes and I enjoyed them a lot! but i think it's important to note that one entire season's worth of plot was just British People and also What If Satan Lost His Virginity

[unproduciblesmackdown]

though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it

[authenticaussie]

I think the reason I'm enjoying writing core4 so much is it's just, a bunch of only-child children with non-traditional family dynamics who are so sibling coded/we're roommates and have been for the past 63,136 years. DELIGHTFUL to me. They're all so goddamn stupid. I have decided Kon says traumatic things about Cadmus and Cassie/Tim/Bart turn to each other and play rock-paper-scissors for who gets to be angry about it this time.

[musical-chick-13]

I bring a real "Doctor x River OTP" vibe that a bunch of the DW fandom doesn't really like.

[telltaletypist]

i have a theory that any franchise that lasts long enough eventually becomes incestuous and ends up eating its own tail, thematically. stories in these franchises can only ever comment on themselves

i think a lot about what alan moore said about his work on the killing joke, about how hollow it is in hindsight since the theme really just boils down to "batman and the joker are kinda similar when you think about it", which i suppose is a pretty novel observation, certainly changes the way i read batman comics, but what is there in that insight for me as a human being living in the real world that i can apply to my actual life? not a whole lot. all it can do is reward emotional investment in the brand of batman. if you don't really give a shit about batman there's nothing there for you.

the disney era of star wars is especially bad about this. by and large they're really just about our relationship to star wars. even the last jedi, which tries to be a little more critical about it, still can't break out of the thematic black hole the franchise has become. andor is possibly the only exception to this, and i steadfastly believe that was a total fluke. don't get it twisted, andor is good despite its connection to star wars, not because of it, and if it were just an original tv show about resisting space fascism, it would probably be better for it (if less popular). we're all lowkey dreading the second season bc we know that no star wars property can resist devolving into a nostalgia wank fest forever

there's nothing inherently wrong with hollow entertainment, but i do think there's something grotesque about pumping the gdp of a small nation into an entertainment product that doesn't aspire to be anything more than an advertisement for itself

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[misscammiedawn]

Thinking about We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine today. A duology. WKTD the tells the story of accepting you're queer, framed as a horror story of 3 repressed teenagers at a christian summer camp fighting off their inherent queerness and HWBM tells the story of how one accepts their place in society after embracing their queerness.

WKTD uses magical girl tropes in a fairly grounded Midwestern teen experience.

Magical girl stories often involve the struggle of the forces of Good and Evil. Purity and Impurity. Corruption often being a core theme of any girl squad facing down the nightmarish forces. This can be seen from Madoka's approach to the concept which is often referred to as a deconstruction. The Pink Opaque from I Saw The TV Glow overtly uses these themes in the exact same allegory as WKTD with the evil forces attempting to suppress the queerness of the protagonists.

HWBM uses mech anime tropes in an allegorical wonderland where the setting fades away to have the audience engage with the ideas at play rather than the lore. Mech anime often uses the giant robot duels as a method of visualizing ideological struggles. Too often in these shows beam sabers will cross as the pilots yell at one another to embrace ideas of how the concepts of war and prejudice can be battled out of existence.

In HWBM the "war" in play is humans versus space... or more accurately humans versus those who are not of Earth. Versus those who are alien. Versus those who are not human.

The dominant culture versus queer culture.

WKTD frames its tropes via the dating sim mechanics popular within its visual novel medium. But rather than choosing which of the 3 girls the player wishes to romance you must choose which of the 3 you wish to exclude. The idea being to scapegoat one's struggle with queerness by attacking outward, blaming the other, by shaming others into the closet to keep yourself in there.

Lashing outward to prevent reflecting inward.

The only good ending of the game is to accept a polycule dynamic where everyone is seen, accepted and embraced for who they are unconditionally. God's love, in this world, is conditional and one must always be excluded. The devil has room for three.

There is no room in normal society for a polycule. It is inherently queer. The dominant culture is binary and there's no version of a polycule where only a 0 and a 1 are represented. The binary is incompatible.

I recently told a friend that the duology tells the journey of a thousand miles and how it begins with a single step. WKTD is the story of that first and all too important step acceptance.

HWBM is the story of what comes after acceptance. After that first step.

It tells the story of the thousand mile journey.

The ideologies at play are the concepts of assimilation, activism and separationism. In the allegory Earth/Humanity represents the dominant "straight" society and the three characters represent each of these ideologies. Assimilation is to return to Earth, to integrate into the dominant culture and lose some of the inherent joy and "otherness" that being queer brings. It's no coincidence that the character representing this path is a trans woman who is known for defecting from her faction and crossing over to every other side while repeating the mantra "I've never betrayed anyone in my life", it is a coincidence however that her faction's war efforts are lead in part by God's Strongest Chaser herself (as far as I'm aware the Halimede Twitter Account is not affiliated with the game, but I find it funny that the assimilation path is represented by someone who a character whose gimmick account argues "t4t is incest"). It is a life of peace. But it is a life of compromise. Of giving up humanity's dream of the stars. To be grounded and tethered to Earth forever.

The Activism Path represents the idea of staying in Earth's orbit but never surrendering even an ounce of the queer identity for the sake of acceptance. Forcing the dominant culture to argue with us on our terms. Accept us on our terms. It is a life of constant battle but in that battle we will save those on Earth, invite them into the stars, embrace them with acceptance and love. Let them join us or remain where they are. This is a life of constant war, knowing that until all are loved and accepted, no one is and so we continue fighting. Letting people change sides. Nothing changes but maybe it's better that way.

Separation is the idea of abandoning Earth entirely. To become so incompatible with the dominant culture that we are no longer "human" to those who remain tethered. We are unapproachable. Separate. Unique. Other. Queer above anything else and incapable of creating a rational dialogue with the dominant culture. It is picking up your toys and walking away. Going far enough away from the culture war that it will never be able to reach you.

The author of the Halimede account once wrote, while in character, that this is the saddest ending of them all because it's unsustainable and that it does not address the inherent intersectional fighting between communities, allowing wars to simply break out further away from our blue marble in the distant stars. It is a life of abandoning war without embracing peace. To live separate in bubbles apart.

The ending of the game forces you to pick. There is no existing outside of these options. Maybe one day we'll find other ways to be but within the view of this game they are all we have. Embrace Earth, declare war on Earth or abandon Earth.

Choose.

I admit. Since the pandemic and coming out as trans, I've favored Saturn's ideology more than others. Completely giving up on "humanity" and only working within circles of those whose acceptance of queer culture is baked in. I fought so hard to accept who I was and "know the devil", so to speak, that I pulled back and withdrew.

Both games have a lot of themes about the demons ones must face within queer culture and outside of it. The way we hurt ourselves, hurt our allies and how the world outside societal, structural and individual will force us to compromise, to cut away parts of ourselves.

These games are masterpieces.

I wish I found them earlier in my life. I want everyone able to read these words to find them now.

[dontbelasagne]

desperately need to do a presentation on why the Twelfth Doctors journey perfectly represents the transfem experience

their previous eleventh incarnation being suave and hypersexual (i know moffat is mostly to blame but!) is reminiscent of attempts to fit into heteronormative ideals of masculinity. whilst it is not completely insincere, there are obvious signs this does not fit you as a person, it is acted out of desperate need to being seen. as Vastra put it, eleven wore that face, and subsequently that form of masculinity, to be accepted. on becoming twelve, realising even an "idealised" masculinity does not inherently serve them, they retreated into themselves as a person for self-reflection and trying to understand why they feel so detached from who they are.

the "am i a good man" arc mirrors being closeted and having to present as something not inherently tied to your sense of self, but still wanting to be the best of your perceived gender as any failure could leave you spiralling into self-doubt about simply being like any other "man". you ignore your gender dysphoria/questioning by trying to claim a moralistic view of gendered expression. made even more clear by Twelve rejecting Clara's heroic view of them, establishing that even though they have made efforts to be a "good man", that is just a placeholder for their loss of identity.

Missy appearing as she does, who as a character serves as a parallel to The Doctor on what they could become, and her eventual arc in trying to become good is symbolic of the fear around transition regret that internalised transphobia can create when you are closeted. Missy never gives importance to their fem existence other than nonchalant jokes, rather showing a more free and expressive personality devoid of any frustration. this immediately dismisses the transphobic assumption that trans people are only focused on their gender. also, Missy representing trans femininity is inherently tied to chaos and upsetting the status quo, she is the embodiment of what society considers accepting your womanhood as someone previously labelled masculine. what many others, and The Doctor themselves, saw as a need for attention and senseless disruption is Missy not needing to serve a false version of who they are, that they can now focus on becoming whoever they want to be now without losing energy to performing a gender that society has imposed on you. Missy could never have made the decision to stand with The Doctor if she had not given importance to her own queerness.

it wasn't coincidence with meeting Bill, she was the perfect foil for The Doctor to finally let go of their anxious attachment to masculinity. i would even argue for the majority of s10, The Doctor is largely ambiguous in their gender identity and does not fit into any construction of masculinity or femininity. whilst they still present as something socially labelled as masculine, they do not internalise that gender expression. they are uncaring about and not needing the validity that comes with heteronormativity, and thus is free to finally accept the decision they have to make. as Bill says, it is so hard to let go of The Doctor, and that rings true for twelve themselves. but they begin to realise The Doctor can be anyone. yes, they are tired, it would be so easy to simply rest and not give value to who you can become. but choosing to let go of everything you once were to survive is better than oblivion. it is better to let go, to choose another lifetime where the only person that dies is your falsity, to finally get it right and choose kindness. for yourself and for those who you love. they regenerate, not just into another person, but into someone who (if only tv scripts...) can now move forward.

[httpdwaekki]

worship | s.c.

summary: you don’t feel beautiful but changbin shows you just how beautiful you are.

wc: 4.6k

warning: SMUT 18+ (MDNI), tall!chubby!afab!reader, praise kink, body worship, negative self-talk, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap in), oral (read rec), nipple play, aftercare, tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but written as afab!reader, probably more, read at your own risk.

a/n: minors and ageless blogs DNI. i will be blocking anyone that interacts with this post that is a minor/ageless blog. okayyyy, this is my first smut and i of course had to write it about my favorite boy <3 let me know what you think! anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you weren’t always the most comfortable in your skin growing up. you were taller, and on the chubbier side for as long as you can remember. it always bothered you, you got treated differently from your skinnier friends.

you got stares not only for your height but your weight, you certainly didn’t get approached by boys and if you did they were trying to use you to get to your friends. you got used to it, you got depressed, and got into a really dark place.

but you slowly realized that if no one was gonna love you for you, then you were going to have to. and that’s what you did, you embraced every roll, every curve, every stretch mark. and you loved yourself like no else has. but then you met one seo changbin.

and if you thought no one could love you more, you were very mistaken. he proved to you everyday how much he loved you, every flaw, every strength, every high, every low. his love was truly unconditional.

and as much as he showed you how much he loved you, you were of course going to have your bad days. days where you don’t feel good about yourself, where you want to hide from the world, where you feel so uncomfortable in your own skin you almost wish you could rip it off.

and that’s exactly how you felt today. you laid on your couch in the biggest shirt you had, with an even bigger blanket around you, swallowing you into a fuzzy cocoon.

you were barely watching what was playing on the tv in front of you when you heard the familiar sound of the lock of your front door clicking, signaling it being unlocked. you know exactly who it was, you didn’t even have to move. you knew he was showing up sooner or later to figure out why you hadn’t been acting like yourself.

he had tried to ask but you shut him down every time. you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to burden him with your issues and especially when you knew the feelings would pass sooner or later.

you hear him lock the door once more before taking his shoes off and setting his bag down. he then makes his way into your living room finding you in your cocoon, long legs curled up as much as they could be. you look up at him, big eyes reflecting the forgotten show on your tv.

your eyes follow him as he makes his way, squatting next to your cocoon. he raises a hand, brushing the soft surface of your chubby cheeks, “hi my baby.” he coos, eyes bright, finally getting to see his favorite person. “hi bin.” you mumble, leaning into his warm touch.

“you wanna tell me what’s been going on, hm?” you feel your face heat up, bringing your hands up to cover your face, inherently halting his movements and touch.

“hey, baby, look at me,” he gently grabs your hands, holding them in his. “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” you shake your head, feeling all of the emotions you’ve been trying to ignore. “baby i can’t help if you don’t talk to me.” thumbs slowly stroking the back of your hands.

“i just don’t feel beautiful right now, bin.” you whisper, shaking your head. “and i know it’s just my brain being mean but fuck bin, it hurts and i don’t want to believe it but it’s so hard when it’s me.” you’re staring at your connected hands, avoiding the eyes of the man in front of you.

he lets go of one of your hands, gently placing it under your chin to lift your eyes to his. “you gotta tell me when you feel like this, okay?” he pauses. “you are the most beautiful, gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” he places a gentle kiss to your hand.

“will you tell me what’s going through your head so i can prove it wrong?” you think about it for a moment, the one person in your life that always makes you feel loved and seen is asking to show you how much he loves you. and who the hell are you to say no.

“i just,” you pause, moving to sit up, crossing your legs in front of you, binnie’s hands laying on top of them. “i hate that my thighs are so big or that my stomach is pudgy or i’m so fucking tall and i just wish that i loved the way i looked because i fucking hate feeling this way.” you must admit, it did feel good to finally get it off your chest, it however didn’t quiet your brain or the negative thoughts that continued to run rampant through them.

“will you let me show you how gorgeous you are?” he asks, rubbing the exposed skin of your calf. you looked into his eyes once more, finding nothing but love and sincerity. you nod your head slightly, before he moved to his knees before you,

he grabs your cheek once more, bringing you closer before placing his lips on yours. he’s placing gentle strokes on your cheek with his thumb, as his lips move against yours. he eventually starts to move further down, kissing the length of your jaw, down to the sweet spot, just below your ear.

he stays there for a moment, interchanging between kissing and sucking the soft skin, pulling light whimpers from you. “look at you, sounding so pretty for me already.” he praises before placing one last kiss, moving to his feet.

he grabs your hand, pulling you from the couch and your warm cocoon. “if i’m gonna show you, i’m gonna do it right.” he says before picking you up with ease, taking you to your bedroom where he lays you on the bed.

“move to the middle, bunny.” he requests, tapping the side of your thigh. you do as he says, laying in the middle before he moves to hover over you. “look at you, my pretty baby.” he kisses your jaw once more, moving down for the second time. this time he starts placing kisses down your clothed sternum.

once he reaches your belly, he lifts your shirt up, just enough, to expose it to him. he starts placing slow, loving kisses over each roll and curve the soft surface has to offer. “you see this gorgeous tummy? so soft just for me. it holds all of the important things your body needs to keep you with me.” he starts, still placing kisses.

“and hopefully will one day carry our mini me into the world.” your eyes soften, hands finding their way into the soft raven curls that lay atop his head. “you’re gonna make me cry.” you mumble, scratching softly at his scalp. “it’s true though.”

he gives your stomach one last kiss before moving your shirt up once more. this time exposing your bare breasts to him. “and these,” he pauses, bringing his hands up to sofft brush the sides. “god these are so fucking perfect jagi.” he places kisses around each nipple, softly brushing his lips against them.

“the perfect pillows, so soft and the noises you make when i touch them?” he takes a nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it, his tongue flicking the peaked bud. you let out a high pitched moan, tighten the grip on his hair slightly, resulting in a satisfied hum from the man above you.

“so fucking pretty baby.” he says before moving the next bud, gently rolling the previous one between his fingers. repeating the same process, you let out another moan, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the wet spot in your panties getting bigger.

he finally releases your nipple placing a kiss to each one before he leans back. “sit up for a second.” you sit up, allowing him to take the shirt off before he moves you to lean comfortably against the pillows. he places a kiss to the side of your mouth before moving to your shoulder, kissing all the way down your arms, until he reaches you hand entwining your fingers.

“and these arms, that hold me with such love and care.” he kisses your other arm. “and take care of me so well, whenever i need it most.” he places a kiss to each shoulder and each hand before positioning himself between your legs. not before gving your tummy a few extra kisses on the way down.

he starts by kissing your panty line, placing a kiss on the now obvious wet spot. you let a soft sigh before looking down, catching a glimpse of the obvious proud smirk on his pretty face. “ and don’t even get me started on these fucking legs.” he sits back on his heels, grabbing one leg, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“so fucking long, and beautiful, god you have no idea what they do to me.” he grabs the other one, placing a kiss in the same place. “now for my favorite part, your beautiful thighs.” kissing up the inside of them, nipping the skin, right next to where you needed him the most.

“look at them baby, so big and beautiful,” he switches to the other side. “and they way they feel wrapped around my head while i’m making you feel good?” his arms coming up to caress the sides of them. “i could stay like that all day jagiya.” he places one last kiss to each one, before bringing a hand up to gently rub the wet spot on your pink panties.

“and my favorite treat, so ready and so fucking pretty for me as always baby.” he places soft kisses to the wet fabric before sitting up, tapping your hip, signaling you to lift them. he quickly slides them off, throwing them some place in the room before moving back between your plush thighs.

he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you forward a bit, finally settling there. he brings one hand back around to spread you wet lips. “always ready for me, huh bubs?” he lightly blows, making you whine a bit. “i know baby, i know. i just wanted to look at my pretty baby for a little bit.”

he brings his arms back to rest around your soft thighs before placing a kiss to your inner thigh, slowly making his way to your pussy. placing light kisses to your lips before finally placing a kiss to your bundle of nerves. you whimper at the minimal stimulation, “binnie, please.” you beg, looking down to find that same proud smirk on his face.

“my pretty baby feeling needy?” he teases, still lightly pressing kisses to your clit. you nod, pouting, hoping he’ll cave and give you what you want. “okay jagi, i’m sorry.” he gives your clit one last kiss before licking a stripe from your dripping hole, to your sensitive clit.

your back arches slightly, mouth agape, at the feeling of finally getting the stimulation you’ve been waiting for. your hand finds his raven curls once more as he then fully takes your clit in his mouth, alternating between sucking and flicking the sensitive bud.

you moan, lightly scratching his scalp, as he continues his work on your bud. “feels good baby?” he asks, mouth still against you. you nod, another moan leaving your mouth as he gently grazes you clit with his teeth.

you feel a finger rub at your entrance before he fully inserts it, curling it slightly. your hand tightens around his curls for a moment, as a whine leaves your mouth. “more please.” you beg, feeling the knot in your tummy already begin to tighten. “patience baby, i got you.”

he adds a second finger, picking up the pace slightly, causing your legs to tighten around him. the way he’s using your clit and hitting that sweet spot perfectly feels euphoric. “binnie,” you moaned, “i’m close.” you warned, back arching off the mattress, hand tightening in his curls once more.

this only prompts him to quicken his movements, sucking on your clit a little harder. your whimpers and moans get louder and louder as you get closer and closer to your release. “please,” you beg, teetering on the edge of cumming. “binnie, don’t stop, i’m so close.” you whimper, your free hand coming up to play with your peaked bud.

“you gonna cum pretty?” he asks against your clit. you moan a small “mhm” telling him all he needs to know. “so cum baby, let me see how pretty my baby looks when i’m making them feel good.” that sends you over the edge, throwing your head back, thighs tighten around his head, fingers tightening in his hair as you cum.

he works you through your high, taking out his fingers, taking all you have to offer. your fingers release his hair, relaxing back into the mattress as you come down. you whimper as he still flicks your sensitive bud with his tongue. you push his head away softly, feeling slightly overstimulated.

“give me one more pretty.” he says, inserting his fingers once more. “let me make you feel good, baby.” his movements are quicker this time. your noises becoming high pitched as you get closer to your second release.

“binnie!” you cry, legs shaking slightly at the stimulation. he adds a third finger, stretching you even more. “there you go my pretty baby,” he continues his work before speaking again, “looking so beautiful for me.” his mouth back on you, moving with fever to get you to your release once more.

“ah!” you wail. “binnie-“ you cut yourself off with a load moan. “come on gorgeous, let go, show me how beautiful you are.” you’re cumming again, legs shaking, tightening around his head once more. both hands grabbing your boobs as your back arches off the bed.

“there you go, good job baby, did so good.” he says as you finally relax into the mattress once more. your breathing heavily, trying to regain your composure as he pulls out his fingers. he places a slow, soft kiss to your clit before placing one to each of your inner thighs.

he sits up, licking his fingers before hovering over you once more. he kisses you, tasting yourself slightly on his tongue. “so beautiful baby.” he says against your lips. “always sound so pretty when you cum.” he kisses you again. “you look even prettier.” he kisses you once more before leaning back, taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room.

you take in the beautiful man in front of you, aching once again even after two orgasms. you sit up, leaning forward, pulling him into a feverous kiss, hands finding his pecs, working their way down to his abdomen. you make your way down his neck, finding his own sweet spot, pulling a groan from him.

you whine as he pulls you away, pout present on your swollen lips. “i know jagi but this is about you, not me.” he brings a hand back to your soft cheek, caressing it once more before placing a quick kiss to the other one. “lay back down bunny.”

he gets off the bed as you lay back down against the pillows. you watch as he slides his pants down, stepping out of them, kicking them to the side. he grabs the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down, releasing his hard length, thick and leaking against his soft tummy.

you squeeze your thighs together as he tosses the fabric to the side. he climbs over you once again, this time carefully spreading your legs, leaning down to place a kiss to your inner thighs “so beautiful.” mumbles against your soft skin before placing a gentle kiss to your clit, making you jolt from the contact.

he kisses his way back up you body, sparing extra kisses to your soft tummy, and of course one to each nipple. he kisses up your sternum, up your throat to jaw before he pulls away to look at you. you swear you could see hearts in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“hi pretty.” he whispers, eyes gleaming. his hand was resting on the bed next to your head, the other one rubbing small circles on your plush thighs that laid upon his. “hi bub.” you whisper back, face warm. “how’re you feeling, hm?” you smile at his question, bringing your hand up to rest on his puffy cheek.

“really good jagi, thank you.” he smiles, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. he leans against you, his body pressing against you. you feel his hard length slide between your wet folds, brushing against your bundle of nerves.

you let out a soft moan against his lip, as he pushes your thigh to the side, allowing him more access to your core. his lips never leaving yours as he rubs little circles on your clit. you pull away, letting out a whimper as he continues his movements.

“feel good, jagi?” he asks, capturing your lips once more. you nod against him, your hand coming up to grip his bicep. he pulls away once more, but continues rubbing circles to your sensitive nub.

“you ready my baby?” you nod, another moan falling from your lips. “i gotta hear you say it, bunny.” you whine. “i’m ready binnie, please i need you.” satisfied with your answer he places another kiss to your swollen lips and his lines up to your entrance.

your mouth falls open and he pushes into you, your grip tightening around his bicep. “fuck.” you whisper against his lips. he’s stretching you out in the best way possible. he’s stills once he’s fully in, giving you a moment to adjust.

his hand rests on your hip, softly caressing your skin as you adjust to his size. he’s placing kisses to the side of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek before he places his forehead against yours. “you okay, pretty?” you nod against his forehead.

“i’m so okay, you have no idea.” you giggle, causing him to smile. “i’m gonna move now okay?” you nod once again. “okay.” you confirm, your body relaxing into the mattress below you. he places one last kiss to your lips before sitting up a bit.

he places one hand on your plush thigh while the other grabs your waist. he pulls out just to fully push back in, pulling a moan from you. “fuck bin, oh my god.” your hand once again finding the soft flesh of your chest. “that’s it baby, sound so pretty while i’m making you feel good.”

he’s slowly thrusting into you, drinking in the way your body reacts to him. he picks up the pace slightly, “play with your pretty nipples for me baby.” you do as he says, clenching around him and you play with the hard buds. “fuck bunny, you’re squeezing me so good.” he moans, throwing his head back for a moment.

he looks godly above you, you arch your back at the sight causing him to hit that sweet spot inside of you. you let out a particularly high pitched moan at the feeling, causing him to snap his head back down, catching the sight of you arched infront of him.

he slows down, reaching for an extra pillow that you’re not leaning against. you let out a whine, relaxing your back. “relax jagi, i’m just getting you a pillow.” he pulls out and taps your hip. “lift up for me baby.” you lift your hips and he slides the pillow under you.

“okay bunny, lay back down.” you lay back into the mattress, and he pushes your legs open once more. “my pretty bunny is so obedient.” he leans down, arm next to your head as he kisses you. he rubs your sensitive clit once again, pulling whimper from you.

“just like that, look at this beautiful body. jagi.” he says against your lips, still rubbing little circles on your clit. “so soft and perfect, just for me.” you bring your hands back up, one on your tit the other wrapping around his shoulder.

“binnie please.” you beg, needing to be filled again. “i got you baby don’t worry.” he stops his movements on your clit to line himself once more, slowly pushing in. the new angle making it feel intoxicating as he pushed into you.

“oh fuck, baby, fuck.” you cried, digging your nails into his shoulder. “yeah? that feel good?” he starts thrusting into you. “my baby is making such pretty noises for me.” you’ve lost your train of thought, your mind only filled with binnie and the way he’s making you feel right now.

“oh-, bin-, fuck-“ you couldn’t get a coherent sentence out. truly being fucked dumb by the man above you. “that’s it bunny, just empty that pretty little brain of yours.” he slid his arm under your neck, pressing his body into yours. he brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing small circles as he increased his pace.

“oh god! binnie!” you wail, your legs wrapping around his waist. “wrap those pretty long legs around me bunny, there you go.” he places kisses along your jaw, both your arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. one hand finding its way into his hair, as you turn your head into him.

“oh my god.” you groan into his ear, pulling at his hair slightly. “my beautiful baby feels so good for me.” he moans in your ear, causing you to clench around him. he groans, “fuck, you like when i call you my beautiful baby?” you cry out, nodding against him.

“is my pretty bunny about to cum?” your toes curl, feeling that familiar knot tightening in your tummy. “yes, yes, i’m-“ you cut yourself off with a cry, it’s almost too much pleasure, almost. “you’re close jagi i know, fuck.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier letting you know he’s close too.

“can you hold on for me?” you let out a high pitched whine. “i know pretty, just a little longer.” you whine again. “you can’t-“ you cut yourself off, trying to focus on anything but how good his making you feel. “you can’t, tell me to wait-“ you let out a moan, “and then call me pretty- oh fuck.” you feel it getting tighter, seconds away from snapping.

“i can’t, why not pretty? hm, cause my gorgeous baby is about to cum? is that it?” you cry out at his words, his teasing only egging you on. he leans down to your ear, still keeping his pace, hitting your sweet spot and rubbing your clit so deliciously. “so then cum bunny. show me how fucking perfect my jagiya is.” that’s all it takes, you let out a scream, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“fuck!” you tighten your legs around him, as much as you can as they’re shaking, toes curling as your orgasm rips through you. nails digging into his shoulder as you grab onto whatever you can to keep you grounded. “good job pretty, that’s my baby.” he’s fucking you through your high as you feel his hip stutter.

“fuck, bunny.” his thrusts are getting sloppy, knowing he’s close. “give it to me binnie. show me how much you love me.” and with that he’s cumming in your pretty pussy. he gives a few more thrusts before he stills in you, laying on top of you.

you both lay there, catching your breath, coming down from your highs. you’re the first to move, arms still wrapped around him, carding your fingers through his hair, placing kisses on the side of his head. he finally ground’s himself, placing a kiss to your shoulder, before moving to hover over you, your hands falling, landing on the back of his neck.

he looks down at you with nothing but love as he places his hand to your cheek, gently rubbing it. “you are so beautiful, my love.” your face warms once again. “thank you binnie, i love you.” he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“i love you more my perfect jagi.” he says against your lips, causing a smile to spread across them. “i’m gonna pull out now okay? then we’ll get cleaned up and relax.” you nodded, stealing a quick peck before he leaned back, your legs falling onto the mattress as he pulled out. he hissed as he did, pulling a small whimper from you at the emptiness.

he, watches as his cum pours out of you, effectively ruining your sheets but he couldn’t care less. he leans down, kissing each thigh again, placing a soft kiss to your swollen clit, causing you to flinch. then your hips, making his way up, kissing every curve and roll on your soft tummy, giving each nipple their own kiss before finally making it back to your lips.

“my gorgeous, gorgeous bunny.” you smile pulling him closer, wrapping your legs around him once again, deepening the kissing. he pulls back, tapping the side of your ass, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up so you can relax.” he moves off the bed, quickly finding his boxers before pulling them back on.

he turns around to find you sitting on the bed, he picks you up bringing you to your bathroom, setting you on the counter. he turns on the bath, making it nice and warm before plugging the drain and putting your lavender bubble bath in.

walking back over to you, he picks you up once again, setting you on the toilet, placing a kiss to your head, “i’m gonna go change the sheets quick, i’ll be right back.” you nod at him, smiling as he makes his exit, closing the door behind him.

you quickly use the bathroom before stepping into the nice warm bath. he opens the door 10 minutes later, with towels, setting them on the counter before removing his boxers. you move forward as he approaches the tub to give him enough room to sit behind you.

once in the tub he pulls you back to him, wrapping his arms around you, showering you in kisses once more. you grab both hands, entwining his hands with yours, giving each hand a kiss, “thank you, for everything.” you turn your head to look back at him. “you’re the best person i know and i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

he pulls you into another kiss before you relax against him once more. “you never have to thank me for telling the truth.” he pauses. “all i ask is that you tell me when you’re feeling like this so i can show you just how truly beautiful you are.” you feel a lump in your throat form at the love you feel for the man behind you.

you nod your head. “okay, i promise.” he holds you tighter, hands still connected, placing a kiss to your hair. you both stay like then until the water runs cold, draining it before you both get out, putting on the minimum amount of clothes.

making your way to your bed, with clean sheets, where you both spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, relaxing. you’re always gonna have bad days but it’s comforting to know you’re favorite person will always be there to help you through it and make it all better.

do not repost

[leliosinking]

“Marius and David not welcome” is sort of funny to me in the grand scheme of this series, like I get the basis of this argument is “well they’re both creeps” but to that point I’d recommend a reevaluation of the entire series, particularly its cast of characters.

They are all guilty of some manner of abuse. They all commit horrific atrocities. And they moralize over these atrocities. Like. That is the principle upon which the entire series is built. Can these literal monsters ever be redeemed?

When you read Interview with the Vampire did you feel some extreme discomfort with the father/lover dynamic between Louis and Claudia? (which was excised from the show I might add) That locked-door uneasiness is the essence of southern/gothic fiction. Read V.C. Andrews. Read Shirley Jackson. Read William Faulkner. The taboos, the ick if you will, is the foundation of gothic horror. You are meant to feel this. It is an essential function of the genre.

Like- every one of Anne’s books that followed IwtV had to essentially compete with the gothic genius that is the invention of Claudia and the sickness that is her story. It’s not all effective, but it’s there in almost every work. TVL has Lestat and Gabrielle’s incestuous relationship, QotD has Armand’s abuse (yes, abuse) of Daniel. For god’s sake, TTotBT features Lestat committing a rape, and I know that you all know this. Yet no matter how you try to headcanon that scene away, it will always be significant because its very function is to service the larger themes of bodily autonomy and consent within that specific novel.

Killing in fiction is benign. We are desensitized to it. And we know this. Killing means nothing, so the narrative must work harder to find a violence that can demonstrate evil to a desensitized audience. There is a reason that these books are shelved in fiction as opposed to genre. By design, their difficulty is inherently literary. You’re uncomfortable? Good. Then Anne achieved her goal.

But if you’re looking to proselytize and transform the work into something with a black and white morality system then you have come to the wrong series. You are gatekeeping yourself from a nuanced understanding of the material. David and Marius are as bad as everyone else. The main trio are not exempt from this reading. That was the point. They are all bad. They are all complex. It is meant to be difficult to parse. Engage with it or don’t, but you are deluding yourself if you think that these two main characters are somehow going to vanish from the tv show.

(And again, AMC is going to strip away the most challenging character traits anyway)

[goodlucktai]

15. "This is going to hurt, okay?" with leo for your zombie apocalypse au (maybe leo losing his arm??)

dialogue prompts

15. “This is going to hurt, okay?”

x

When the initial outbreak hit New York City like a bomb, Splinter was adamant that they bunker down in the Hidden City until the world was safe again. One almost-apocalypse was enough for him, thank you. This second one could be someone else’s problem.

Frankly, Donatello could see the merit in that. For those initial frightening forty-eight hours he was all but glued to the TV. A handful of staff and one anchor had remained barricaded in the Channel 6 news room, broadcasting what information they could until the station ultimately went dark like all the others. And what they had to share was grim. 

Whistleblowers had been quick to throw CEO Theo Audrey’s pharmaceutical subsidiary under the bus as the catalyst, claiming the corporation was in the business of bioweapons. Whether or not that was true, it gave the world a name for the violently aggressive infected: Auds. 

Raphael argued that they had the ability to help people, which meant they had the responsibility to. He was more careful with the word ‘hero’ than he used to be, careful in general with what he said around impressionable little brothers who wanted to live up to whatever idea he had in his head that they should be. But it was obvious to all of them what he thought was the right thing to do. 

They had all looked at Leo then, their fearless leader. He was still growing into the role, but he had always been the voice of common sense that kept their heads above water.

Leo didn’t say anything right away, his mind racing ahead as he chased the thread of each argument to its end. He could account for inevitabilities and pitfalls and curveballs as easily as if it was all one big game of chess. 

And finally he came to the decision he could live with, and said, “Raph’s right. We have to help who we can. But we’ll be safe, papa.”

That was three months ago. The world is still ending, and no cure is in sight, and Donatello doesn’t want to think about how those without portal magic are surviving when they have no choice but to venture out for food or water or medicine.

Sometimes he thinks Splinter was right. Other times he thinks about all the people who are still alive only because of his brothers’ inherent goodness and he can’t imagine having done anything else. 

Today, the portal that brings the patrol team home is orange, not blue. Donnie’s heart is in his throat even before he processes the screaming. 

“POPS!” Raph’s voice tears through the lair. He hasn’t sounded that frightened since those seconds before the Technodrome exploded in the sky. “Donnie, April—somebody!” 

Donnie bursts out of the tunnel into the terminal that makes up their living room and all the air leaves his lungs at once. 

Raph’s hands are bloody, and Mikey is crying, and Leo is writhing in their big brother’s hold. The once-bright yellow hoodie Mikey had been wearing that morning is stained an ugly rust color and pressed hard against Leo’s right arm.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay, we’re home,” Raph murmurs, none of the panic on his face making it into his trembling voice. “Raph’s gotta show Don. This is gonna hurt, okay?” He peels away the hoodie, fighting Leo’s grip on his own arm to do it. Leo chirps in distress, and it’s horrible, and Raph all but trips over himself to soothe, “I know, baby, hold on. Hold on.” 

He finally reveals a gruesome, gaping tear in the flesh above Leo’s elbow. The edges are shaped like teeth.

“No,” Donnie says. 

“We found a few families trapped in an apartment building. One of them had a little girl and she—” Mikey manages to choke out. “She started crying. It was so loud. The Odds swarmed the level we were on in seconds.”

No, is all he can think. No no no.

What apocalypse? The world is ending right here. The world is in Raph’s arms, bleeding and gasping and dying. 

“Move,” Draxum says, as good as appearing out of thin air. Donnie’s situational awareness is apparently nonexistent right now but he still hears it when Splinter dashes into the room a second later, if only because of the wounded sound his father makes. 

Draxum places his hands on Leo’s wounded arm just above the bite and they begin to glow. Donnie loses the strength in his legs before he completes the last couple steps between himself and his brothers, so he just crawls the rest of the way. He takes his twin’s hand and pretends there is nothing that could force him to ever let go. 

“From what we have seen, the infection turns a new host in a manner of minutes,” Draxum says, expression fierce with focus. “How long did it take you to get him home?”

“Um,” Mikey says, scrambling to grab hold of something other than grief and fear the way he would rifle chaotically through the mess of sticker paper and sketchbooks on his desk for the right color copic or drawing pen. Blinking hard and rubbing away fresh tears on his sleeve, their youngest finds the courage to do anything besides just wail and scream the way they all would like to and says, “It wasn’t right away. My portals aren’t instant like L—like Lee’s are. I have to, um, draw the sigils in my mind the way you taught me.”

“Four minutes,” Raph offers. “And twenty-one seconds,” he adds a beat later. “Raph was counting.”

He leans down and presses his cheek to Leo’s forehead. He isn’t saying goodbye, but he’s holding close just in case. He’s giving Leo something sweet to go out on if he has to go. He’s crying, too, a steady, silent drip.

Splinter strokes Leo’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Donnie isn’t brave enough to look at him. He can’t look at anyone. 

There is no other way for this to end. There isn’t a cure. Any bite or scratch is an instant death sentence. Then Donnie’s twin would become something else, a violent, hungry shell of someone once good and loved, and they would have to deal with that. They would have to see it, the ugly wretchedness of it, and never make peace with it for as long as they lived. 

And yet— 

“He should have turned by now,” April says from just behind Donnie. Her voice is shaking, and she looks like she wants to collapse where she’s standing, but she still manages to claw something shaped like hope out of the worst moment of their lives. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s what I’m saying. This virus is human in nature—mortal. There is a reason the Hidden City is unaffected. Yokai are creatures of magic. In much the same way I could not catch the flu from you, O’Neil, we cannot be infected by Odds. You Hamato call yourselves mutants, but you are yokai. At least in part.”

“And you wouldn’t have thought to mention something like this sooner?” Splinter hisses, something close to hate in his voice. 

“How would you have liked me to test it, Lou?” Draxum bites back. 

“Shut up,” April says. “What does that mean, Barry?”

“It means the virus has been isolated at the site of the infection,” Draxum says. “It will not remain that way for long. It will spread, very slowly, and eventually take him. This pain that he is in will not wane until he is gone. We must act before it is too late.”

Donatello’s mind is as quick as Leonardo’s, even though they are constantly racing down different avenues. He understands what Draxum has not yet said. What exactly he’s proposing. 

They have to remove the site of the infection.

“I can’t do that,” he blurts, too loud.

“Someone must,” Draxum replies, not pulling any punches. “If you want it to be me, then it will be me.”

“What are you talking about?” Mikey says. “Dee?”

Donnie can’t speak. He presses his forehead to the corner of Leo’s that isn’t crammed fitfully against Raph’s shoulder. 

It’s a terrible risk. Amateur amputations are the stuff of nightmares. And it might not even work. There’s no precedent. There’s just a one in a million chance and a family desperate enough to take it.

“Leo,” he whispers. “Hey. Nardo. Please. I can’t just. I need you to—I need you to tell me it’s okay. Lee. I need you to tell me what to do.” 

He feels it almost instantly, the click and connect of a mind meld. Leo’s mind flows into Donnie’s as effortlessly as it has every time they’ve done this before, the mischievous wind of his ninpo breezing through Donnie’s lightning storm like the skies they belong to are one and the same. 

There isn’t a conversation. Leo’s thoughts are muddled, fever-bright and confused, not at all like the shape they take when the wickedly clever slider is feeling like himself. But Donnie hears him anyway. 

He understands just from this instant of togetherness that Leo doesn’t want to leave them. He wants to stay where they are. He would do anything to stay. 

Donnie parts from him with a gasp. His siblings watch him avidly, tears streaming down their faces unchecked. Leo looks tiny in Raph’s arms. There’s already so little of him, and now they are going to whittle him down even more. 

But the helpless screaming fear is no longer the loudest thing in Donnie’s head. It’s drowned out by the deafening rumble of a storm, that faraway sky that flashes with purple lightning and playful gales of blue. Nothing could be louder than the two of them when they have something to prove. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, one hand on his twin’s plastron over the spot where that fearless, unyielding heart beats for them. “Hear me? I’m taking this arm, but I’ll give you back a better one.” 

The air goes out of the room as all of his siblings and his father suck in a breath and hold it. Raph’s grip on Leo tightens, as if he needs just one more second in a world where this doesn’t have to happen, where there’s another way. 

Then he lifts his mismatched eyes and there’s only trust there when he looks at Donnie. Mikey’s hand grips the wrist of the one Donnie has on Leo. April puts her arm around Mikey.

They’re all here. They’re all going to stay right here.  

[elliesgaymachete]

I think Game of Thrones damaged collective expectations for television media and is the reason for the decline of full length low budget seasons.

We all know HBO is high budget cable even before, but Game of Thrones was arguably the first time one of their shows became so massively, globally successful. People who had never consumed fantasy media in their lives were watching Game of Thrones. It became mainstream culture rather than nerd culture so your coworkers weren’t going to make fun of you for liking it. In fact, your coworkers probably watched it too.

Before this the only TV shows that achieved anywhere close to this level of popularity (and even then were not nearly as popular as Game of Thrones) were network shows, usually TV comedies. These were low budget and had full seasons! Things like HIMYM, Big Bang Theory, The Office. You either watched them or knew multiple people who watched them. Sometimes TV dramas also reached this level of popularity—Shondaland shows to name a few. Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal, How to Get Away with Murder. Even if you didn’t watch them, you had heard of them. These were also network shows. Low budgets, 22 episodes. Not to mention network television is FREE so it has the potential to reach a much wider audience than cable.

But Game of Thrones exploded into common popularity. Even people who didn’t watch much television watched Game of Thrones. And you know what they had because it’s an HBO show? Insanely high budgets and 10 episode seasons. They were basically making ten short movies released as TV seasons. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that itself, it worked well for Game of Thrones. The problem is how its affected television production since then. Sure shorter seasons and miniseries have existed before, but it feels like they’ve been in an upward trend ever since Game of Thrones

Every studio with a streaming service wants to create the next mega popular phenomenon like Game of Thrones so they copy the formula. Big budget, shorter seasons. Quality over quantity. But in doing so they neglected the main format television has used for quite a while. Network seasons are fewer and far between with smaller budgets and shorter seasons so they can invest more in the high budget shows. And a few of them were good, but somewhere along the way, they lost sight of the quality part and throw microbudgets at shows for six episode runs and are surprised when no one gets invested after only six episodes when we used to get 22 episodes and since no one’s watching anyway they just cancel it without giving the show a chance to find its legs. If it happens to get a lucky with a second season but there’s not EXPONENTIAL growth in viewership? Cancelled. Why is no one watching tv anymore? Why does no one want to pay for our streaming service that releases maybe one show you like every other year? Why why why they ask when they ruined a perfectly good formula and make things less and less accessible

[lady-raziel]

yeah fuck it i'm not done with my fanfic rant. it's very very clear that many of the people out there saying 'i don't read fanfic because its not canon and its poorly written'...have never really, truly spent the time to interact with fanfiction. it's kind of like they heard all the bad criticisms of fan writing, and just assumed they were true and never bothered to check for themselves.

yes, there are fanfics that are poorly written. yes, there are fanfics that are just porn. yes, there are even fanfics that are alternate universes of canon that may even have OOC characterizations. all of these things are true, and pretty much every fanfic enjoyer will agree with you.

but the point of fanfiction. the whole point is that you have to search around and find what you like. because for some reason, canon isn't doing it for you. or you just want to know what someone else's interpretation of how things could have happened is!

there are brilliant fanfictions. there are truly amazing, incredibly written fanfictions that take the good parts of a story and make them better. there are fanfictions better than actual published works that are better plotted out and researched than anything canon has to offer. but you have to FIND these fanfics, whether through recs or by searching yourself.

the people who say all fanfic is bad and poorly written seem to live with the expectation that good media will simply be handed to them and they can consume it unquestioningly. regardless of the slew of bad books, shows, and movies that exist and are thrown at us on a daily basis. would you really go so far as to say 'all tv shows have poor writing' because it took trying to watch several bad shows in your streaming recommendations to find one you liked? or do you really, honestly think that because something was made with profit in mind it inherently has better quality and more value than something made out of passion?

fanfic haters, find the love in your heart to engage with media you love outside of the context of it being sold to you. you may even find a gem among the coal that makes you love the original property even more.

[rhysstrongforksfagswag]

I need to scream about the brilliant thematic juxtaposition between hbomberguy’s “ROBLOX_OOF.mp3” and Kevin Perjurer/Defunctland’s “Disney Channel’s Theme: A History Mystery”, which came out within 3 days of each other in November 2022 and both concern artistic credit and legacy. Here they are linked for those who haven’t watched one or both:

While both are very different stylistically (with hbomberguy maintaining his signature edge of unhinged video essayist humor while Defunctland is produced in a more traditional documentary style), they are both very well made with a strong narrative through-line— something I consider to be very important in a good documentary. They also have strikingly similar subject matter, but very different “protagonists”, so to speak.

Tommy Tallarico, the center of hbomberguy’s doc, is a well-known and successful video game composer who, over the course of the video, is revealed to be a grifter and seemingly compulsive liar. Perjurer’s doc, by contrast, spends most of its runtime trying to uncover the composer behind Disney Channel’s well known auditory channel theme; eventually this is revealed to be Alex Lasarenko, a composer who wrote a lot of music for brands and sadly passed away in 2020 without much fame to his name. While Lasarenko was obviously unable to be interviewed for the documentary, Perjurer manages to get into contact with many of his collaborators and they have nothing but nice things to say about him. Contrast this with Tallarico, who is far more successful than Lasarenko, but is also a total dick who takes credit for the work of those who work under him (among many many other issues).

To me, the idea at the center of these docs is artistic legacy. When you die, what will you be remembered for? What art that you have created is inherently connected to you as a person? And, does it matter if those who personally know you actually like you as long as your art is loved? Is it better to be famous and despised or unknown and beloved? They also both have commentary to make on media preservation, with Perjurer’s doc being made possible through the tireless work of online archivists who catalog tv bumpers and interstitial content, while hbomberguy’s doc shows how Tallarico actively seeks to rewrite history in service of his own fame.

Basically, I love YouTube documentaries and there were a ton of great ones made in 2022.

[ponett]

Whenever I complain about graphic or dark content in media I watch, I keep hearing people retort with this apparently very popular opinion that people who enjoy comfy, wholesome things are actually more likely to be raging assholes than people who love things like death metal and gore. As someone who seems to enjoy comfy, wholesome things yourself and likely met many others who enjoy similar such things, do you agree with this opinion? If so, why do you think this happens?

So I've been sitting on this ask for like a week, not knowing whether or not I wanted to touch it because it kind of feels like being handed a live grenade

For one, I don't like being pigeonholed as someone who just likes "comfy" or "wholesome" things. Yeah, I enjoy My Little Pony and Animal Crossing. I made a game with cute furry characters and lots of bright colors. I also enjoy things like Berserk and Chainsaw Man and Doom and violent crime dramas and punk rock with vulgar lyrics and porn. Variety is the spice of life

Anyway: I generally don't think it's a good idea to make sweeping statements about peoples' moral or intellectual character based on what genres of story they enjoy, regardless of what direction you're coming at it from. But this is a very leading question that kind of skirts around the root problems

There's frequent (perhaps a bit exaggerated) pushback these days against people who prefer their fiction to be a warm blanket, a form of escapism meant to distract you from the real world. In particular, the dreaded "person who only watches kids' cartoons" is a form of this that gets brought up a lot. I don't think the root problem here is what media people enjoy or don't personally enjoy - taste is subjective, and I don't think it's a moral obligation for everyone to have diverse tastes in TV shows - but I do think some folks should try to get out of their comfort zone a bit more. Sometimes stuff that seems like it won't be for you on a surface level will really end up speaking to you, but you won't know until you give it a shot. Trust me, I've been there many times

It becomes a problem when people demand that media ONLY cater to that "warm blanket" attitude. And I think that's part of the reason why that stereotype you mentioned about fans of ""wholesome""" media being assholes exists. People who view dark or violent content as an inherent flaw because it's not what they like. People who yell at creators when they make bad things happen in their stories, because how dare you do this to my comfort characters? People who say movies should never have sex scenes. People who want "problematic" moral complexity stripped out in favor of black and white moral instruction. People who seem to hate any sort of interpersonal conflict in fiction at all

These attitudes can be the result of many different cultural factors, factors that can't all be traced back to Tumblr or what shows you like, but sometimes it's definitely because of that lack of broader perspective on media. You can tell when someone's opinions on The Right And Wrong Ways To Write Fiction were shaped almost entirely by, like, Steven Universe discourse. (Yes, this is a jab at Lily Orchard.) And when these people are very loud about their opinions, well, it becomes a trend people notice

Like. I don't know you. You sent this anonymously. But when you say you "complain about graphic or dark content in media you watch"... that could mean a few wildly different things! Maybe you're just venting about something that unexpectedly triggered you, and that's totally fine. But the wording could also imply that, like, you take issue with these things being present at all, and that you expect a person who likes "death metal and gore" to be more of a "raging asshole" than someone who likes the "wholesome" things you like. So... well, maybe you're more dismissive or judgmental of things outside your comfort zone than you realize?

Unfortunately, in case it's not already obvious, on the internet this shit quickly becomes a proxy battle over dozens of intersecting cultural issues at once where everyone is kinda just talking past each other. So it gets messy

For example, I have no reason to believe that the people who run the "Wholesome Games" showcases have anything against games that are dark or violent or contain adult themes. (They've outright said they don't. Many times!) But when you see people going "why is Spiritfarer allowed in the showcase? That's a game about DEATH and that's NOT WHOLESOME, why would you make me think about death?" or "Ugh, why does Disco Elysium have to be about a cop? Why can't we apply these systems to a game about a young witch who's trying to find a lost cat in an idyllic village instead?" it... Well, it makes me sympathetic towards the indies who don't feel comfortable with the "Wholesome Games" label and consider it limiting. But it also doesn't make me think that devs catering to a demand for more chill, nonviolent video games are categorically facilitating fascist censorship from the Christian right

It's complicated! The written word is imprecise and the internet is a nightmare

I've kind of gone off on multiple tangents here. Basically: I do think that people can kinda turn fans of "comfy" media or "adults who only watch Bluey" into an overblown boogeyman these days. I think people online generally have a habit of swinging too hard in one direction or another in their stances on certain things, overcompensating based on what group of people online are currently annoying them the most and turning said group into like The Main Problem With Society Today. But I also think that boogeyman only exists because of very real examples of people demanding that everything cater to their narrow comfort zone. Go like what you like, but also, y'know. Don't be that person

[lowkeychenle]

Irrevocably [ZCL] (M)

Description: You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction.

DID YOU MISS ME?! It's been so long someone should chop my hands off omg

Genre: Smut. Angst. Read at your own discretion!!! Read the warnings first please! It's mostly smut tho tbh

Also it's not proofread or anything crazy like that but I do hope y'all like it...I've been so busy sos

Content Warnings: Explicit, rough, unprotected sex (don't do the unprotected part), Chenle says pretty girl again (not sorry) and also slut because duality (again?), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (both), cum eating (like he actually eats his...own cum...), he's pretty pussy drunk in this he cums twice, Chenle is manipulative as hell in this!!! he is not a good guy in this fic!!! Do not read if you don't like it!!!!! Also I'm not sure if this can be considered infidelity but if you're sensitive to that topic read with caution!

Word Count: 4,877

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (mentions of Mark Lee x Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

You can’t even say you haven’t heard from him in a while. That’s far from the truth—and in your opinion, maybe you hear from him too often. Your friendship was constructed long before any other aspect, but for as long as you could remember, it’s been you and Chenle.

Now there’s you, and there’s him. Inherently separate.

Your situation with him was simple—friends with benefits. And everything was working great at first, and the end wasn’t traumatic and the world didn’t crumble. You weren’t in love with each other, and you both mutually understood that the second someone has the potential to become more in one of your lives that you’d stop immediately.

So, when Chenle started talking to his now girlfriend, you did the right thing. The respectful thing. You backed off, and you wouldn’t say you regret it. He’s happy—happier than he was before, and that’s all you want for him. You’ve been friends for forever, after all, and what would that make you if you had ill wishes for him?

It was three months after he started dating his girlfriend that he introduced you to one of his friends, Mark. Fortunately, you got along with him well, and he gave you a much needed distraction from the empty void Chenle had left in your life. He’d been more than sex, but less than love. He gave you company and companionship, even if it was in an unconventional way.

You’d been up front and honest with Mark about your relationship with Chenle, but he didn’t mind as long as you were sure there hadn’t been feelings involved. For Chenle, you weren’t sure if he ever told his girlfriend about you. You wouldn’t blame him if he hadn’t, but considering you’d been sleeping together up until their first date, it might have been a good thing to mention.

The difference was simple—you and Mark weren’t anything, not really, but Chenle and his girlfriend were, in their words, serious. In fact, in the past four months, you hadn’t even slept with Mark. The most he was at this point was someone to keep you company.

And then everything blew up.

Chenle called you at 9 p.m., almost nine months after he started dating his girlfriend. You were in your apartment by yourself, watching the same TV show for the 70th time. You stare at your phone screen in confusion before you answer it.

“Hey,”

“Hey.” He lets out a breath, and the defeat in his voice hints something’s wrong.

“Everything okay?” you ask him, sitting up on your couch.

“We broke up.” Chenle pauses, maybe to contemplate what he says next. “Can I come see you? I know it’s random, and I probably shouldn’t, but to be bluntly fucking honest, I’ve missed you.”

“We talk all the time,” you mention and cradle your knees to your chest. 

The thought of allowing Chenle here so late scares you—old habits die hard. You feel like you owe more than that to both Mark and Chenle. Mark, because while you two aren’t together, you’ve grown quite close over the past few months. Chenle, because he’s probably not thinking straight at the moment.

“You’re the only one I can talk to about this,” he mumbles.

Your heart sinks. “It was because of me?”

“I…Not exactly. It wasn’t you at all. It was us. And it was me for not saying anything.” He sighs, and you envision the way he tugs his fingers through his hair.

“You never told her?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” he says. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey, by the way, I used to fuck one of my closest friends on the regular, but now that you’re here, I stopped.’ That doesn’t sound great.”

“Better than her finding out some other way.” You chew on your bottom lip. “I told Mark.”

“That’s different,” Chenle replies. “You’re not dating Mark.”

A moment of silence passes between you two, and when you don’t respond, he clears his throat.

“Oh. You are.”

“It’s not like that.”

“So, what is it like? Is it like what we were?” He sounds shorter, as if he’s no longer enjoying the conversation.

You scoff. “It’s none of your business, Chenle. Mark is nice. And you’re the one who introduced us anyway.”

“Mark is nice,” he repeats, snorting. “You act like I don’t know you. Nice isn’t exactly your type.”

“You can come here if you stop being a dick,” you tell him. “But we’re only talking.”

“Good. I’ve got a lot to say.”

You debate changing after he hangs up, but Chenle’s already seen you at your worst. Your shorts and T-shirt won’t faze him in the slightest. Nerves like this haven’t swarmed you since the first time you slept with him. Clearly, your body doesn’t get the memo that this isn’t a booty call.

And when he arrives, you realize how well he fits. The dim, golden lighting reflecting off of his skin, the dark, oversized clothes he likes to wear, the way his hair is parted. Everything about him is exactly as you remember. It’s odd to think that way, because really, you’ve seen him as often as you used to. Things were just…different.

And under these circumstances, it’s awkward. But even when he was dating his girlfriend, there were times where the two of you were alone—nothing ever happened, of course, but it hadn’t ever been so nerve wracking until now.

It isn’t for long, though. Within seconds of your thoughts running wild, he’s closing the distance between you and pulling you into a tight hug. You exhale in relief and return the gesture with no hesitation. He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s inhaling your scent.

Something about this hurts. Your ribcage suddenly feels like a prison, and all you want is for your heart to be free. Why does it feel like something’s stabbing it?

“I’m sorry for asking to come over so late,” he whispers. “And for being a dick about Mark. It’s not my business.”

There’s a twist deep in your chest. You wonder if there’s truly anything left in there.

“It’s okay, Le.” Your voice is muffled by his shirt. “Let’s sit and you can tell me what happened.”

You move away from him, lightly grabbing his hand to lead him over to your couch. When you’re both seated, he rests his head on your shoulder. You reach up to play with his hair, and instinct you became familiar with when he needed comfort back when you two were messing around.

“She asked about you.” His fingers toy with yours, warm touch gently grazing your skin. “Really, I had no idea what to say. There isn’t much to say, you know? So, that’s what I said. I told her we’ve been friends for forever and…that’s it.”

“Technically not wrong.” You chuckle, but the ache within you only grows.

“I went to shower and when I got out, she was going through my phone. By the time I realized what she was doing, she’d already found more than enough to be pissed.”

“What was it?”

“Pictures. In our text conversations from like…almost a year ago. I get why she was upset, you know? But it’s not like they were recent. Or even in my camera roll, for fuck’s sake.” He shuffles a bit closer, his warmth pressing into you. “But I should’ve checked and made sure. Or something. So, I’m sorry someone else saw those, (Y/N).”

“Did I look good at least?” you joke.

“Oh, fuck off.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You always look good and you know it.”

You get a sudden, overwhelming urge to look at him. His words make your stomach turn, and you’re desperate to figure out what the hell is going on with you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He ponders for a moment. “I thought I’d be a little more upset, but the only thing I was really thinking about was coming to see you.”

Chenle sits up, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he takes you in. His gentle brown eyes trail over you, unrecognizable emotions swimming around in his irises. You find him still as extraordinary as ever. His features so sharp, lips perfectly full. You fight the craving to reach out and trace his jawline.

“It’s just…” he murmurs. “It just always comes back to you, doesn’t it?”

“Chenle…”

“It’s been so long,” he continues. “Since I’ve seen you like this.”

“We hung out all the time.”

“No. Not like this. I know why you did, but you got so distant from me. Didn’t you ever think about me? That whole time?” He wets his lips.

“How could you ask me that?” you breathe out. “I thought about you all the time, but you weren’t mine to think about.”

“When I thought of you, it used to hurt. I used to have to distract myself from you because it was wrong to want you when I had everything else.” His gaze flicks down to your lips, and you feel every ounce of you crumble to pieces.

“It’s not…wrong anymore,” you say.

His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours. You let out a shaky breath against him, but quickly reciprocate what he gives you. All hesitation is out the window now, all thoughts of him being too upset at a moment like this fly from your brain.

It’s Chenle. He’s kissing you. This is familiar. Right, even.

“God, it’s been too long.” He reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing your skin. “Need you, baby. Never wanna lose you like that again.”

Your heart is beating so fast, you’re not exactly sure how to respond to that. The longer you take in every word leaving his mouth, the quicker you realize what’s happening to you.

You haven’t slept with Mark because you do have feelings for Chenle. It hits you like a freight train, and the fear sinks in only for a second before you slam your lips back to his. Being with him like this feels good, like nothing could go wrong.

The quietest moan slips from his mouth into yours, and just like it used to, heat floods your core. His hand slips beneath your shirt, his scalding touch trailing across your side before settling on the small of your back.

You pull away from him and gently push against his chest. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now?”

“Need a distraction.” He swallows hard. “That’s what we are for each other right? She’s out of the picture, so I get to have you again?”

You shake your head. “Only when we’re both available. Not just you.”

“Did you fuck him?” Chenle tone drops, a dark hint of jealousy gracing those narrowed brown eyes. One of his hands drops down to your thigh, tracing along the hem of your shorts. “Is that why you don’t want me anymore? He’s better or something?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I—Chenle, I haven’t.”

Wetting his lips, his touch trails higher, his skin burning against yours in the best way. “Don’t you miss me? Or at least the way I made you feel? When’s the last time someone made you cum?”

He notices when your legs press together, desperate for any sort of friction between them. You’re fighting every urge you have, wanting nothing more than to have Chenle right here on your couch, but something holds you back.

Leaning closer, he hums lowly in your ear, “You know what I can do.” His lips press against the spot below your ear, slowly heading down until his tongue runs along your pulse.

“Damn it,” you groan, pushing him back. “Take your pants off.”

As you stand up to push your shorts and panties to the floor, he lifts his hips to push his sweats to down his legs. He reaches into his boxers and strokes himself slowly.

“C’mon, baby.” He smirks at you. “Sit on it.”

You straddle his lap, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he pulls his cock out. One hand grips your hip and he holds you above him.

“Do we need a condom?” he asks, gaze glazed with want.

“I haven’t slept with anyone,” you mutter, face heating up for more reasons than one.

“It was just…” he trails off and gulps. “You know. I’m clean.”

The idea of him with her is almost enough to snap you out of it, but the last thing you plan on doing is getting off his lap. You ignore the sting of your heart and instead trade it for the sting of your walls stretching to accommodate Chenle with no prep. Whining at the pain, you stop after a couple inches.

“S’okay, baby,” he encourages you. “Take it slow.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, lifting up before sinking back down to take a bit more of him than the last time. He breathes heavily, biting down on his bottom lip while his chest heaves.

“Just a little more.” Chenle slowly pulls you closer until he’s fully seated inside you.

The stretch has your legs shaking, whimpers escaping you as he whispers praises to you.

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Letting me fill this pretty pussy with my cock.”

Chenle tugs your shirt over your head, freeing your bare breasts. He lets out a small sound at the sight before leaning down to kiss them, teeth nipping and tongue flicking your nipple.

Unable to hold back anymore, you push him back harshly. His lips part as you grind, sweet moans escaping him at the same time yours do.

“So tight,” he groans. “You waited ‘cause you knew no one else could do this to you, huh?”

“Shut up,” you command him.

His eyebrows raise for the briefest moment, until you start bouncing on his cock. Wetness starts squelching around the two of you, aiding you in your quick movements on top of him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.” Chenle thrusts up to match you, hands trailing around your body to squeeze your ass harshly. A slap comes next, the sound resounding through the room.

Your hips jolt, thrown off your rhythm at the stinging sensation on your skin. Nails leaving angry, red crescent moons in his skin, you rock back and forth to stabilize yourself before continuing. The sound of your arousal would embarrass you under any other circumstances, but the fucked out expression on Chenle’s face is enough to keep you going.

You don’t hold back your moans, letting the needs of your body take over instead of whatever the hell is going on in your head. He feels so fucking good inside you, the rough slide of his length against your walls, the way he throbs with want for you. The twitch of his cock inside you has a knot tightening in your stomach.

“Look at me,” he says roughly.

You don’t bother listening, too focused on your own pleasure to justify stopping.

“I said fucking look at me.” He grabs your face, pulling you close so you're inches away from him, hooded, hazy brown eyes devouring you. “Keep fucking yourself on my cock.”

You let out a weak moan, legs aching as you continue, but you know you need more. Trying to grind down, you do whatever you can to get friction on your clit. Whines slip past your lips, with the mind-shattering high just out of reach.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” Chenle slaps your ass again.

“Close,” you practically whimper. “Touch me. Fuck, please.”

Immediately, he lets go of his harsh grip on your cheeks, reaching between you two and quickly finding your clit. Your nails scratch down his shoulders, leaving marks as his fast circles push you over the edge.

You scream out in pleasure, your vision blacking out as you’re swept up in your climax. Crumpling into him, you squirm on top of him until he wraps his arm around your waist, warm seed coating your insides.

His chest heaves, lips parting as he rests his head back on the couch cushion. He gulps and strokes your hair while still slowly rocking up into you. You finally work up the energy to get off of him, but he holds you down.

“No,” he murmurs, breathless. “Not yet. Not done.”

Your body heats all over again, the idea of another round sends tingle down your spine. Goosebumps form on your skin, but you listen. Something has to make up for the lost time between you two.

“Need you again.” He nips where your neck and shoulder connects. “Can I take you to your room?”

You nod, unable to speak. He lifts you deftly from the couch, carefully walking over to your room like he’s done hundreds of times before. You hold onto him desperately, never wanting to let him go for more reasons than one.

As soon as you’re both on your bed, he’s already beginning to thrust again. You dig your nails into his back, but he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head.

“Be good,” he warns, filling you up over and over, ever so slowly. “Little pussy’s so greedy, sucking me in like this.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, the weight of him on top of you making you whine until your throat’s raw.

Every nerve-ending is on edge from your previous high, skin tingling and burning wherever his fingers trace shapes on you. You can barely keep your eyes open, the gentle brush of his chest against yours has your weak-minded state reading into this much more than you should.

If you could form actual words, you’d probably accidentally confess to him. He works through his own overstimulation, his jaw clenched tightly as he works your body expertly.

“I missed you,” he whispers, dipping his head down to nip along your neck. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” you force out, barely able to muster up the words. “God, yes.”

He hums, tonguing along the pulse in your neck. “You didn’t fuck him ‘cause he can’t make you feel like this, can he?”

You want to be mad at him for bringing Mark up at a time like this, but his words only make you shiver. He’s right. You can’t be mad at him when he’s right, and certainly not when your brain is fuzzy with the pleasure of his cock rubbing so, so slowly against your inner walls. Nobody could ever fill you like Chenle does.

“Answer me.” He thrusts particularly hard, jolting you up the mattress.

“Fuck, he can’t make me feel like you do.” You’re not entirely sure if your words are coherent, but Chenle seems satisfied by what you said.

“And you’d better remember that, too.” He releases your wrists and reaches between you two, resuming circles on your clit. “Could fuck you all night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting your cunt filled with my cum as many times as you can handle?”

You wrap your legs around his waist in a desperate attempt to keep him close, the angle allowing him slightly deeper inside you. Between the delicious stretch of your walls and the uniform, skilled rubbing on your sensitive bud, your body shudders uncontrollably. Your back arches and your hands fly to his hair, loud, obscene moans pouring from your lips.

Chenle’s thrusts pick up as he helps you ride out your high, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to keep his steady pace. He slows to a stop, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, he kisses you, tongue already slipping past your lips to dominate your mouth the same way he’s dominated the rest of you.

“Think you can get on all fours for me?” he asks, his breath fanning across your face.

“Again?”

“Please, baby, I’m close already, just need a little more.” He presses kisses on your cheeks and the tip of your nose. “I need it so bad.”

You nod, shakily removing your legs from around his waist. He guides you to the position he wants, your head resting on the mattress as he squeezes your ass.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” he groans, a slap resonating around the room. “Might wanna hold on, pretty girl. I’m not going easy on you.”

Despite being an absolute rag doll, you clench in excitement at the idea of having him inside you again. You push back toward him, urging him to fuck you. He uses his knee to nudge your legs apart, and even though they’re shaking, you plan on letting him pound into you until they fucking give out.

He runs the head up and down your folds, switching between barely pushing his tip inside and tapping it on your clit.

“God, I can’t fucking take this anymore,” Chenle growls, and the next thing you know, he’s thrusting inside you with as much force as he can. You scream, gripping onto the sheets and biting down on a pillow to attempt to silence yourself.

With all the stimulation, you feel constantly on the edge of another orgasm. His hips slap against your ass, the clapping sounds emphasizing your pleasure. Squelches of wetness float around too, the stickiness dripping down your thighs onto the bed the longer he has you in this position.

He shifts slightly so his balls smack your twitching clit with every thrust. You’re barely able to think straight, and you’re half-sure you’re drooling, but Chenle slams you into your third orgasm of the night rather easily. Your legs threaten to buckle, and he loops his arm around you to keep you up.

After a couple more thrusts, he moans loudly and spills deep inside you, chest heaving at the effort. Both of you wait in silence for a few moments, him to regain composure and you to remember how to breathe. He gently pulls out of you, turning you to drop your back down on the mattress. Once he gets out of bed, he stops in front of you and pulls you to the edge by your ankles. Nudging your legs apart, he sinks down to his knees.

“What are you doing?” you ask, rising up to your shaky elbows.

“Need a taste,” he says, mesmerized by the mess leaking out of your entrance. Swiping some of it up on his finger, he offers it to you. “Taste us, pretty girl. We’re so good together.”

You lean closer and wrap your lips around him, giving a harsh suck before you release him.

“God, baby, your pussy is so perfect when you’re leaking my cum.”

You’re not expecting him to move forward and flatten his tongue against your core. He holds your hips down to the bed, tentatively licking your slit. Without much effort from him, he’s reduced you to a mewling mess again, core throbbing with sensitivity even when he barely touches you. Your arms immediately give out, slumping you back onto the sheets as he works your core with his tongue.

It’s odd how much the idea of him eating you out when he came inside you turns you on. As limp as your body is, you relish in all of the pleasure he’s willing to give you. His tongue dances around your slit, alternating between slipping it between your folds and flicking your clit. You lazily tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough for him to moan against you.

Your hips jerk when his lips wrap around your bud, and next thing you know, his hands hold you down. You call out his name, pulling with the grip you have on his hair to tell him you’re much too sensitive to continue.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, blowing cold air on you. “Just a little bit more, okay? One more time.”

And then he’s back at the apex of your thighs, working much faster and harsher with his movements to get you to the edge faster. You shatter all over again, a mantra of noises passing by your lips as your thighs clench around his head.

You must actually black out for a moment, because when you come to, Chenle has pulled away from your core, his lips and chin coated with your arousal. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression equally as exhausted as yours.

He grabs a towel to clean you up, but both of you are beyond tired from all the activity. You shift up on your bed, not bothering to say anything else to him as you slide beneath your blanket. When you and Chenle did things before, he always stayed. He always pulled you into his chest and whispered sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep.

You’re not sure if that will be the case today.

Except he does. He carefully crawls into bed next to you, turning you toward him and pulling you to him. Kissing the top of your head, he taps his fingers against your arm.

“I really missed you,” he says.

“Me, too.” You nod, but something makes your heart twist in your chest.

“Can I be honest for a second?”

“Of course.”

“I knew the pictures were there,” he whispers. “Maybe it’s shitty, but I couldn’t delete them. Sometimes, I looked back at our old conversations—not the sexual ones—and just…thought of you. I couldn’t do anything to erase you and what we did from my life. I didn’t want to.”

You wonder if that’s his idea of a confession. If he’s trying to tell you he has unresolved feelings for you.

“Then why did you stay with her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Everyone liked her. My mom told me she thought I’d end up marrying her. She obviously didn’t know about…this. But I couldn’t fucking stop, (Y/N). Everything came back to you.”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” you offer. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah…” Chenle takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s talk in the morning.”

You and Chenle wake at the same time, to the sound of his phone on the bedside table. Groaning, you massage your forehead and turn away from him. When he answers it, your interest is piqued.

“Hey.” Sleep still weighs on his voice, making it scratchy. “No, I’m not at home.”

There’s a pause, and the vague sound of the other person responding makes your heart twist violently in your chest. It’s her.

“Would you stop jumping to conclusions? I’m at Jisung’s.” Irritation laces in his tone.

You should say something. Let her know somehow that he’s lying, but you don’t. You stay silent in your hurt and wait to see what he could possibly do next.

“Yeah, forgive me for not wanting to be alone after what happened.” Chenle scoffs and runs his fingers through his hair. A sigh follows. “Damn it, I told you that was done. I’m sorry you saw those, okay? They’re from…over a year ago. It didn’t seem relevant to bring it up, and she’s still my friend, so.”

Friend. You almost laugh out loud, but again, you don’t say a word.

“Yeah, of course. Where?”

Another pause from Chenle.

“Yeah, I’ll stop by my house and then I’ll be over there. I’ll see you in half an hour?”

Your heart feels like it’s being shredded into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Thank you.” He sighs, his body deflating. “I’m so sorry for all of this, you know that, right? I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Tears sting your eyes, and as soon as he hangs up the phone, he hops up to go grab his clothes from the living room. You sit up in your bed, blanket clutched to your chest as you watch him scramble to get dressed.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I have to go,” he says, walking back into your room. Leaning in, he attempts to press a kiss to your lips. You turn away from him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“Where are you going?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

“She…She wants to talk it out. And I have to go. You understand why, right?” His eyes widen as he scans over your face.

When you say nothing, he sighs.

“I’ll text you later. You can answer or not. Whatever you want to do.” He walks toward the door to your bedroom, but you stop him when he reaches the threshold.

Your eyes sting, your body’s sore, and all you wanted was to tell him the truth this morning. Now it’s clear to you—he’ll never feel the same way for you. He’ll drop anything and everything—you included—if it meant getting her back.

“Chenle.”

He stops, turning to you.

“She’s going to make you choose,” you warn him. “Between her and me.”

Chenle pauses, fingertips gripping the frame. “I know.”

With that, you have nothing else to say, and he wouldn’t have time to hear it anyway. He leaves without another word to you, and when he’s far enough away, your tears finally fall. You want to scream and yell, but your throat is too raw from the long night before to even attempt it.