#its important that you know this about me

[hhbluedynamite]

...Oh, dear God...

Do I have some words to say to those people villainizing these characters...

First and foremost, I haven't seen much of Beastars (I think I've only seen the first four episodes), am barely involved in the Sonic franchise, never seen Homestuck, and don't watch...whatever show that lady is in (Doctor Who?), so I can't really say anything for the characters from those shows.

But as for the others...

Mabel: A...CHILD!!! Children are inherently selfish! It makes sense for her to act the way she does (and Dipper's the same way! He's selfish too!). She was also MANIPULATED BY A LITERAL DEMON to give him a very dangerous portal that she had no knowledge of its importance because such knowledge was withheld from her! But what about Dippy Fresh? She's basically replacing Dipper! Mabel didn't make Dippy Fresh! It was Mabelland! And she was also under its influence too! Mabel Pines was a literal child! You are villainizing a kid for being a kid who was scared of change and growing up (something I relate to, honestly)

Rose Quartz/PD: Oh boy...where to start. Before abandoning her old life, Rose was emotionally abused by the very Gems that were basically her sisters/mother! She was belittled, neglected, felt like she had no place there despite wanting to be a part of what was basically the family business. Did Rose make questionable decisions? Oh, yeah. Big time. But, does that make her a bad person? Hell, no. She's just flawed. Which is a very...human thing.

Beatrice: ...Really? People are villainizing her? Have they not played her route? She's frustrated that she's stuck in a small dying town, she lost her mom to cancer like two years before the main story, is basically getting sexually harassed by someone she can't fire, and her dad is kinda neglectful about her needs. I would be bitchy too!

Gangle: ...Are you fucking serious? We're villainizing someone whose dreams were freakin' crushed for being "unrealistic" and spent an entire episode going through mania? The woman whose Digital design is a representation of masking your actual emotions, including depression? And she was told that she was annoying and was better sad?! Who was so, damn close to Abstracting (which can be seen as a euphemism to suicide)??!!!

Did these characters do questionable acts or say things they shouldn't have said? Yes. Does it excuse their behavior? Not really. Does that make them villains? Hell, no. These are flawed characters, like everyone else!

...Sorry for the rant, to the readers and to the person who made this post. I've just seen this a lot with Mabel and Rose Quartz and it pisses me off...and I didn't know that it happened to Bea and now Gangle?!?!?

I have opinions about the recent gangle hate

[0omillo0]

Seungmin angst/comfort where he is confronted in public about is relationship with Y/N and brushes it off and it really hurts Y/N’s feelings to where they feel like he doesn’t care about them.

A Quiet Love — Seungmin x (gn) Reader 김승민

Seungmin and Y/N had always prided themselves on their quiet love. It wasn’t the kind that sought attention or demanded validation from the world. Their relationship existed in the spaces between: shared glances, stolen smiles, and the warm silence of simply being together. While others might have needed grand gestures, they found solace in the simplicity of knowing they had each other.

But sometimes, simplicity comes with its own challenges.

It started as an ordinary day. The two had decided to step out for a walk, something they rarely did together in public. The chilly breeze carried the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby street vendor, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as Seungmin tugged his cap lower to shield himself from curious onlookers.

“You’re so paranoid,” Y/N teased, their voice soft.

Seungmin chuckled, the sound light and comforting. “Just being careful,” he said, his hand brushing against Y/N’s briefly before retreating back into his pocket.

The day unfolded naturally—an unhurried stroll through the city, a stop at a tiny café that Y/N loved, and easy conversations about nothing in particular. They were both relaxed, their usual guardedness melting away in the anonymity of the crowd.

But as they stood in line for coffee, the tranquility shattered.

“Hey, aren’t you Seungmin from Stray Kids?”

The voice was curious, yet probing. A stranger stood before them, their eyes darting between Seungmin and Y/N. “And is this… your lover?” they asked, their tone laced with interest.

Seungmin stiffened slightly, his polite smile returning out of habit. “Uh, no what… I don’t even know them.” His voice was calm, composed, and practiced.

The stranger seemed to get the hint, offering an awkward laugh before mumbling something about being a fan and walking away.

Y/N stood frozen, the brief exchange replaying in their mind. Seungmin’s words were dismissive, almost clinical, it stung in ways Y/N hadn’t expected.

They pushed the feeling aside, determined not to let it ruin the day. But as the hours passed, the ache grew, a quiet doubt settling in their chest. Did Seungmin care about their relationship? Or was he so focused on protecting his image that their love was something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge? Were they really a stranger to him?

By the time they returned to their shared apartment, Y/N could no longer keep their emotions bottled up. As Seungmin set the coffee cups down on the counter, humming softly to himself, Y/N’s voice broke through the silence.

“Seungmin,” they said, barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

He turned to face them, immediately sensing the tension. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Y/N hesitated, their fingers twisting nervously. “It’s about earlier. At the café.”

Seungmin frowned, replaying the moment in his mind. “What about it?”

“When that person asked about us… about me,” Y/N began, their voice shaking, “you said you didn’t even know me. Like it wasn’t important. Like I wasn’t important. I know you have to keep it secret.. but it hurt.. in some ways.”

His expression softened, concern flooding his eyes. “Y/N, that’s not true—”

“Then why didn’t you just say yes?” Y/N interrupted, their voice cracking. “Why couldn’t you just tell them the truth? Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! Y/N, I’m not embarrassed—”

“Then what is it?” Y/N pressed, tears slipping down their cheeks now. “I get that you want to keep things private, but sometimes it feels like you’re hiding me. Like I’m not enough for you to be proud of.”

The words hit Seungmin like a punch to the gut. He stared at them, guilt and regret swirling in his chest. “Y/N,” he said softly, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how that made you feel. I thought I was protecting us, but I see now that I was wrong.”

Y/N sniffled, their arms wrapping around themselves protectively. “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like we matter.”

“You do,” Seungmin said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, gently cupping Y/N’s face in his hands. “You matter more than anything to me. I love you, Y/N. I love us. And I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

Y/N looked up at him, their tear-filled eyes searching his face for sincerity. They found it in the way his brows knit together in concern, in the quiver of his lips as he spoke, and in the warmth of his touch.

“I’m not good at expressing myself sometimes,” Seungmin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I care so much, Y/N. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll show you every day how much you mean to me.”

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to their forehead. The gesture was so full of love and remorse that Y/N couldn’t help but collapse into his embrace, their arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m in this alone,” they murmured against his chest.

“You’re not,” Seungmin assured them, his voice steady and resolute. “You never will be. I’ll stand up for us, for you, from now on. I’ll make sure you always feel loved and cherished.”

In the warmth of his arms, Y/N felt the doubt and hurt begin to fade. They knew that their relationship wouldn’t always be perfect—there would be challenges, missteps, and misunderstandings. But as long as they had moments like this, moments of honesty and reconciliation, they knew their love would endure.

That night, as they sat together on the couch, Seungmin laced his fingers with Y/N’s and whispered, “I’ll never let you feel like you’re anything less than my everything.”

taglist @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[st4rrzynight]

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭– 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

𝟏𝟎:𝟓𝟑 𝐏𝐌. i anxiously stared at the time on my phone. it has almost been an hour and paige still hasn't shown up. tonight is my birthday, she promised she'd show up after she washed up from tonights game.

i'm looking around as my friends converse around me in my apartment. my roommates have already questioned me on the absence of my girlfriend. i wish i knew why she wasn't here either.

i enter the passcode to my phone in a hurry as i pull up her contact and type out a message.

Paige 💜🫶

hey, where are you? everyone’s asking about you... are you on your way?

i'm so sorry, babe. i can’t make it.

what?

i know, i know. I feel awful about it, but something came up the team wanted me to come celebrate tonights win with them

its my birthday paige you promised you would be here. going out with the team is suddenly more important than your girlfriends birthday?

it's not just "going out". it's to celebrate tonights win, and it's kind of a big deal. if i don't show up, it could look bad. i don't want to let them down, you have to understand.

no paige, i don’t understand. I’m standing here, surrounded by my friends, and i have to keep making excuses as to why you’re not here. do you know how embarrassing that is? to not have my own girlfriend show up to celebrate my birthday??

i'm sorry, okay? i’ll make it up to you. i’ll take you out somewhere nice tomorrow just the two of us, yeah?

no paige it’s not about “making it up.” it’s about showing up when you say you will. but you NEVER do.

that’s not fair. you know how much pressure i’m under i just want to celebrate the win, look i'll make it up to you tomorrow i promise.

paige i am so tired of this. seriously, you keep making empty promises, you get my hopes up only for you to tell me a half assed excuse that you pulled straight out of your ass last minute.

please don’t do this right now. i’ll call you after i leave.

don’t bother, we're done.

what??

read 10:56

what do you mean were done??

read 10:58

y/n answer me please baby

read 10:59

please ill do anything ill make it up to you i promise please answer my message baby

⚠︎︎ not delivered

꥟

ᵖᵃⁱᵍᵉˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

two years. 730 days. i lost her two years ago today, i lost it all. i know it was my fault, i put everything above her and i deeply regret it. now i have to live life in regret watching from the sidelines as she celebrates her birthday once again. this time, with her girlfriend.

her laugh filling the air knowing i used to be the cause of that laughter. admiring her from across the bar, sitting in between my teammates as they make conversation yet i can't bring myself to take my eyes off of her.

i scan ever inch of her body my eyes stopped on her wrist, then her fingers, then her neck. every single piece of jewelry i got her, gone. none of it in sight as if it never existed.

a hand on her thigh from a woman who was a copy of me. blonde, blue eyes, tall, and she plays soccer. but its not me. it will never be me again.

i can't even blame her, thats why i hate it. i hate that i can't hate her no matter how hard i try because in the end i will always love her and it will always be her.

even if i'm not her happy ever after. i distract myself trying to find someone new but it never ends well. i always find similarities between the girls i've gone on dates with and her. thats what attracts me to them, the fact that they slightly even look like her. but they will never compare to her full look, no one will.

so for the rest of time ill find myself watching from the sidelines seeing her take on life with someone who isn't me by her side, someone who looks like me but is not entirely me.

it will always kill me, it's going to eat me alive till i die. knowing that i'm not hers anymore, i won't be looking for her in the student section knowing shes there. instead ill be looking for her in the student section in hopes she decided to show up, but i know she didn't. she's going to be in the student section of the soccer games watching and cheering on her.

i won't be able to buy her flowers anymore, instead i watch as she gets gifted flowers by another woman. except those aren't her favorite. they're the wrong flowers.

i wont be able to buy her the perfume she always wears when it runs out, her signature scent that i always loved. instead i watch as she gets gifted perfume by another woman. she sprays it into the air and by the time it reaches where i sit i know its not the one she loves. its the wrong perfume.

i won't be making late night sephora trips, picking out her favorite makeup products when shes running low. instead i watch as she gets gifted makeup by another woman. its the wrong brand.

because of my mistakes, ones that i regret so deeply, i now live with the gnawing feeling knowing that she now loves a woman who doesn't pay attention to small details and gifts her all the wrong things, on her birthday of all days, but she showed up. i didn't.

clearly i lacked attention to detail as well if i couldn't see how much i truly disappointed and hurt her and didn't even show up. i wish it went down differently.

every shooting star, every coin toss into a fountain, every time the clock hits 11:11, every fallen eyelash, every dandelion, my last two birthdays, my only wish was to have her back.

but i cant.

not anymore.

and it hurts.

i open up my phone clicking on her contact, i type out one last message, even if i know she won't ever get it. i type it out and send it as some type of closure.

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

⚠︎︎ not delivered

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 —

@uwupaige @jadasogay @sweetluna20

[motziedapul]

While I'm not privy to the entirety of the discourse, I'm seeing a lot of people act very smug about other people not knowing what the Odyssey is, which, as stated by the biggest Odyssey fan on social media right now (Wolfythewitch), is a very eurocentric view.

I'm sure there's a reason many liberal Twitter accounts are suddenly posting like their icons are White Greek statue heads and are very concerned that non Westerners don't all know a PILLAR OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION , but ultimately there's no reason most people in the non Western world would have read The Odyssey.

Not because I don't think it's a valuable story to read or know about, mind. But because it's specifically a basis for Western storytelling, and despite what Twitter may think, the West isn't the world.

I learned the Odyssey because I wanted to. Wolfy learned because they wanted to. Most of us Filipinos never learned it at school; for the same reason most Westerners never learned our important cultural texts.

Moreover, there are other stories that are just as valuable, or teach you the same lessons, across cultures.

I'm not saying this to belittle the cultural significance of the Odyssey. I just don't think people understand how this story isn't universal outside of a Western context, even if many of its themes are.

I do think people should at least be aware of it, as well as other classics, but I'm not gonna jump down people's throats for not knowing something I personally had to seek out by myself, that was never presented to me in all my years of being educated. I also think that you can be literate, well rounded, intelligent, and intellectually curious without ever once knowing who Odysseus is.

I also think there are quite a few Asian legends, epics and stories that people don't get angry you don't know about, even if they're about as significant, or more, to more people. I would prefer more Filipinos care about our own stories than I would ever wish them to know about or read The Odyssey, but that's just me.

Odyssey exceptionalism doesn't make sense to me. People should read more but I'll respect someone who's read 10,000 books and somehow never reading The Odyssey, than I will someone who thinks reading the Odyssey makes them better.

I’m living for The Odyssey discourse on Twitter right now because some people are like, “You’ve never heard of the odyssey” and other people are like, “some people don’t speak English and haven’t read your little American book.”

[nondelphic]

creatives, please use alt text

one of the first things i learned in journalism school was how to write alt image descriptions.

at first, it felt tedious. every single photo or graphic required a description, and if we skipped it—or wrote a lazy one—our professors didn’t hesitate to fail us. at the time, i didn’t fully understand why it mattered. but now, i’m so grateful they drilled it into us. if i’d never gone to journalism school, i might have never known how vital alt text is.

for those unfamiliar, alt text (short for “alternative text”) is a written description of an image. it allows people who use screen readers to know what’s in an image, making content accessible to those who are blind, visually impaired, or have other disabilities that prevent them from viewing images. you're basically translating visual content into words.

as creatives, whether we’re writers, artists, photographers, or meme page admins, we have a responsibility to make our work accessible. after all, what’s the point of creating something if a huge portion of your audience can’t engage with it?

why alt text matters

it ensures accessibility - a visually impaired person using a screen reader should be able to understand the context of an image just as easily as a sighted person.

it’s inclusive - adding alt text isn’t just for people with disabilities. sometimes, images don’t load due to bad internet, and alt text helps everyone understand what’s missing.

it’s good practice - if your work exists online, you want it to be as widely understood as possible. accessibility makes your content stronger.

okay, but how do i write alt text?

writing alt text isn’t as hard as it might seem! here are some tips:

be concise but descriptive - describe the essential elements of the image. what would someone need to know to get the gist of it?

include context - if the image is part of a larger story, explain its relevance. for example, “a black cat sitting on a pumpkin, used to illustrate a halloween-themed story.”

don’t overthink it - you don’t need to describe every pixel. just focus on the most important details.

alt text and ai tools

in the era of chatgpt and microsoft copilot, we’ve got a major advantage: ai tools can now generate alt text for you!

while these tools aren’t perfect and often need a bit of tweaking, they’re a great starting point. platforms like adobe, microsoft, and even some social media apps have built-in options for generating descriptions. if you’re overwhelmed by the idea of writing alt text from scratch, let ai do the heavy lifting, and then refine it.

a creative responsibility

alt text isn’t just for journalists or big companies, it’s for all of us.

as creatives, we have the power to make the internet a more inclusive place. whether you’re posting a masterpiece, a meme, or a picture of your cat, take a moment to add alt text.

adding alt image description is SO EASY and quick and we all need to get better at adding it to our posts. i, myself, am not perfect. on here, for example, i've been really bad about writing alt image descriptions, and it's something i'm very disappointed in myself for. (i hereby pledge to do better, and please call me out for lacking in the future!)

writing alt text is not only about respecting your audience, but it's also about recognizing disabled people's right to engage with your work.

accessibility isn’t optional !!

[averycutesalamander]

thinking about you and boothill both spending the day together for crimbas... nsft because it gets spicy 😳

He spoils you absolutely rotten with gifts. One of your favorites is the plushie he bought you during one of his trips; it's some alien animal you don't recognize, but it's so incredibly charming that you don't mind. He bought this blanket that's absolutely sinfully soft, and the two of you immediately bundle up together on the couch. You lay across his chest as he rubs circles into your back, and watching movies turns into half-watching movies when you creep upward to kiss him, all slow and tender. He purrs into your mouth, one hand raising to bury in your hair.

You spend... quite a bit of time like that, devouring each other with a steadily increasing hunger, but never crossing the threshold into true, burning heat. Eventually, long after the credits have rolled, you pull away with a heaving breath, your lips and tongue aching from where he's been nibbling at them.

Oh, and how beautiful he looks underneath you, his eyes soft with a low, smoldering arousal, his hair slightly mussed from your touch, his lips indented with the markings of your teeth. He looks like he wants to consume you whole, like he wants to slide you up the couch and let you pin his face between your thighs and beg you to use him however you please.

But if you do that, your plans will be very much derailed - so you slowly sit up and away from him, mourning the distance.

"I'm gonna go get changed," you murmur, slowly tracing the exposed plating of his abdomen.

He shivers under your touch, swallowing heavily as he looks you up and down, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Wait for me in the bedroom, won't you?" you say, your voice dipping into something taunting, something tempting, something almost lascivious.

Without another word, you slide off of his lap and pad off to the bathroom, feeling his gaze burn into your back.

The moment the door closes behind you, a wicked grin overtakes your face. You've already given all of your gifts to him for the day-

All except one.

You kneel down and quietly open the cupboards below the sink, pulling out the small, inconspicuous box tucked in the back. It's been here for weeks, waiting for its time to shine.

Or, rather, your time to shine.

You swallow as you lift the lingerie from the wrapping, running your fingers along the soft red lace and decorative bows and ribbons. God, you pray this will look as good on you as you hope it will.

You strip, shivering subtly at the chill of the room; without any delay, you get to work putting on all of the pieces - girtle, garters (the moment you see them around your thighs, you know he's going to go absolutely postal), the skimpiest bustier you've ever seen in your life (and dear fucking lord does it make your chest look incredible), and plenty of other miniscule pieces that take you ages to figure out. The thigh-length stockings are especially agonizing, because they're essentially just twisting spirals of ribbon - but once you get them on, you know it was worth it. The ribbons are just tight enough to squeeze around your thighs and calves, and you'd bet your life that he's going to lose his mind over the subtle bulge of your skin in the spaces between. You add a few finishing touches - most important is the bow that you tie delicately around your neck, the ends dipping tauntingly between your breasts. Finally, once you're done, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror.

You realize rather abruptly that dating Boothill must have dramatically increased your confidence, because there isn't a doubt in your mind that you look phenomenal. You're a little worried he's going to go into emergency shutdown from overheating once he lays eyes on you.

Well, you'll resuscitate him. You're desperate to see the look on his face.

So, without further delay, you step out of the bathroom, then head straight for the place that you'll certainly be staying for a few hours at the very least.

The bedroom door creaks as you push it open, leaning in the door frame as dramatically and lasciviously as you can manage, and-

Boothill whips around and freezes like a deer in headlights at the exact same moment you do.

He's... He's completely bare, and in the process of wrapping himself in ribbon - bright, sparkling red and silver stands that wind around his chest and his limbs. It's a bit clumsy, a bit crooked, but it's genuinely quite good; you suspect he went through the trouble of looking through a guide of some kind. The ribbon crosses and loops to perfectly emphasize the curves of his body, framing the bulge of his plating and the dips in between. His whole torso looks fucking mouthwatering; he's perfectly framed his chest by a crossing pattern of ribbon that sweeps perfectly down into the dips and seams of his waist, which already looks incredibly grabable by default - but you actually feel your fingers itching, yearning to clench your hands just above those pretty little hips. His thighs are cradled beautifully by the winding stands, looping down around his calves and highlighting the sharp arch of his heels. He was just getting started on his arms, but one of his biceps is already beautifully bound and wrapped.

He breaks the silence. "Sweetheart, you..." he rasps, swallowing audibly. You were so distracted by ogling him that you honestly forgot he was ogling you - and he looks ready to pounce on you. "You're so gorgeous it's gonna put me six feet under."

"Well, you'll be taking me down with you," you mumble, a bit dazed, "because you look absolutely stunning."

Slowly, you lean away from the door, walking toward him like a lion on the prowl, your hungry eyes drinking him in like he's your next meal. You stop just in front of him, so close that you're able to reach up and trace the choker of ribbon that he's wound around his neck, following down to the ridges of his collarbones, into the center of his chest, then even lower, your fingernails running down the plates of his abdomen.

"Pretty boy," you murmur, partly to yourself. When you look into his eyes, you can see that the red dots of his pupils have blown wider than you've ever seen. "Can't believe we both had basically the same idea."

He takes a shaking breath when you slowly trail your fingers down between his legs, and his whole body shivers when you trace the seams of the plates that hide his cock.

"Honey, I'm..." he whispers, practically devouring you with his eyes. "I need you, darlin'. You look... Fudge, sweetheart, ya look so good I can't stand it."

Oh, how he makes your heart flutter.

When you smile, the edges are lethal, and your eyes glitter with mischief. You pout as dramatically as you can manage, but the curl of your lips gives you away.

"What, you aren't going to finish wrapping my gift? I'm wounded, honeybee." Before he can break out of his stupor, you reach down, twisting your fingers in the loose ribbon that hangs from his arm. "I guess I'll have to do it myself, then."

You see the realization in his eyes like a flash of lightning, and you can't resist the urge to hook your fingers beneath the ribbon at his neck, yanking him down into a kiss so hot that it could melt steel. You lick into his mouth feverishly, hungrily, almost desperately, scraping your tongue along his teeth. He moans, sweet and low in his throat, rumbling in his chest; his hands finally drift to rest at your hips, the cold chill of his metal bleeding through the thin material of your lingerie - and fuck, you love how small he makes you feel, how easily he could overpower you at any moment.

"Ah, ah, ah," you croon, pulling away. "Hands behind your back, honey."

The look on his face is positively agonized, and you drink it in like the sweetest ambrosia you've ever tasted. "But- But, sweetheart-"

You press your finger to his lips to shush him. "Gifts don't speak, do they?"

He looks like he wants to pin you to the wall and rip you apart. Instead, he opens his mouth and curls his tongue around your finger, his lips curling mischievously when you shudder. Entranced, you carefully trace his teeth with the pad of your finger, savoring the subtle sting.

"Turn around," you rasp, suddenly feeling parched.

He gives your finger a tiny nibble and your hips a thorough squeeze before obeying, turning his back to you, obediently holding his arms behind his back.

Time to get to work, then.

With a teasingly light touch, you wind the final stands around his arms, looping and crossing and tucking; then, you tie them together, hand to elbow, wrapped all pretty in red. You tie it off with a bow, and by the end, your favorite present of the day is standing there in all his glory.

You admire him for a long, long moment, circling him like a hungry hyena; all the while, he tracks you with his eyes, looking distinctly eager to pin you down and ruin you.

"You're so beautiful it makes me crazy," you mumble, nibbling at your lip.

"Keep talkin' like that, and I'll have to rip right outta this and tear you apart," he rumbles.

You smile, wide and wicked. "You won't, though."

You walk backwards until your knees hit the bed, and you settle into a lounge on the edge of it.

"You're awfully confident, sweetheart," he purrs, slowly prowling toward you like a wolf on the hunt. You watch him with dark eyes, spreading open your thighs so he can stand between them, looming over you in a way that might've felt menacing if he weren't looking at you like he wants to fuck you until you break like glass.

"Because I know you're a good boy," you croon, watching with delight as his jaw clenches, heat flashing in his eyes.

Low and sultry, you purr, "Down on your knees, bee."

Your gut clenches with arousal from just how quickly he obeys; he drops down in front of you, staring up at you like you're the most divine creature he's ever seen.

"See?" you murmur, your lips curling - though your brain is so hot that your lips shake slightly. "Good boy."

God, you think you could come just from the look on his face.

You take a breath, trying to compose yourself, and he takes the opportunity to rasp, "Let me taste ya, baby. Please. Wanna feel you on my tongue so bad I could die."

Well, who are you to deny such a polite request?

You watch his eyes dart to your cunt as you part your thighs just a bit wider, your lower lips visible through the sheer, soaked fabric. You sling one leg around his shoulder, pulling him into your orbit, watching him lean eagerly toward your pussy like a starving man to a banquet. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him just out of reach, laughing openly at the tiny whine that escapes him.

"You want something, bee?" you say, your eyes shining. "Then take it."

When he looks up at you, you suddenly feel like you're the one on your knees. Without missing a beat, he leans forward, carefully pinching your panties in his teeth. You hold your breath as he drags them down, down, down, exposing your dripping cunt to his greedy eyes.

When he licks his lips, it reminds you very much of a wolf licking its chops before digging into its prey.

"You're gonna have to beg me for mercy before I'm done with ya, doll," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine. "And when I'm done, I'm gonna fill you up, and I'll make ya come until ya cry."

He's right, in the end. He ruins you, over and over and over and over, until you're utterly spent, until you're so come-drunk that all you can do is lay there and take it. He tears the fabric away from your body eagerly, muttering that he'll replace it later; then, he breaks you over his cock, rutting into you like an animal, marking your body with his teeth. He listens to the chorus of moans and whimpers and whines that spill from your lips, never sated, always starved.

And all the while, his arms stay bound behind his back, wrapped and tied neatly. And all the while, you're utterly helpless beneath him, pinned down and drooling.

(Merry Christmas indeed.)

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[climeslover]

One of the places to start is the public library. There are groups for many libraries that effect book bans and whatnot that people can join. (Look for 'Friends of the Library -name of your local library-') Also, lots of other types of community organizing happens at public libraries, often resources for filing taxes, job help, classes, book groups, movie events, fibercraft groups, internet access, writing groups, child activities, and so on. Are you a parent? In parent-spaces when you talk to others I imagine you commiserate sometimes, do you share info about services in your community? Same for Musicians, Writers, Caregivers, Scrabble Pros, whatever -- this is the beginning of establishing community. It's true local community is very important, and we're isolated from it in a million ways to our detriment, but online stuff is helpful too. Not just commiserating (which is pretty powerful in its own right) but access to actionable suggestions you feel are attainable for you. Look for people and places (online or offline) offering actionable advice, don't read a bunch of negativity forever or it will whittle you down. Skip things that are sensationalist without offering hope. Being aware is useful, so do it in the best way for you. There are groups likely in your local community fighting the things you're worried about. Look them up. Is the Working Families Party active in your area? Is SURJ? Project Nia has a lot of materials available on their site; free PDFs and educational materials/toolkits about community and organizing. Even if you don't join any of these organizations, you can access the resources they provide. You may learn there are a ton of people dealing with a struggle you share. You can learn phrases to look up that you didn't know the meaning of before. Some of my favorite info from these resources are about forming deliberate community and how-to maintain it. Cause it has to be maintainable and we can't just rely on chance. It helped me just to know there are people out here working on these things and have been the whole time. <3

I am so serious when I say that now is the time to take your activism offline. I am not spending the next four years squabbling on social media or getting woke points by reblogging posts that my followers already agree with. There are real places in your offline community where you can do good if you seek them out

[catbolt]

Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne

inspired by (and written listening to) Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence - Ryuichi Sakamoto from my zayne playlist hehe

fluff, zayne x mc, 1.3k wc

Snow crystallizes on tree branches outside in the light of the falling winter sun, each ray refracting through the icicles that frame the window and splitting into thin beams that run like streams onto the wooden floor inside. She sighs, staring out the window, mug of cocoa clenched between cold hands.

She anticipates him coming home late again. "You know, emergency room visits spike during the holiday season," Zayne had told her with a smile in the morning as he prepared to leave.

"You're not even an ER doctor," she grumbled, arms crossed. He'd laughed softly. "When people need help, I help, my dear. It's non-negotiable."

Times like this she begrudges his unrelentingly chivalrous spirit and sense of justice, although it's usually one of the qualities she likes the most about him. She waits on the couch, feeling more than a little restless. She had hoped to spend at least some part of Christmas Day with him, but as the hours ticked by on the clock, the chances of that grew slimmer and slimmer.

She doesn't text Zayne, not wanting to bother him, knowing he's likely stressed at work. She gets up from the couch with a sigh, deciding to at least busy herself with some cleaning. Her presents for him sit below the tree, untouched.

The sun sinks lower, quickly, and she grimaces, its descent through the clouds a constant reminder of the fact that the hours in this special day is running out, and so far she's spent it nearly all alone. She tidies up the dinner table, mindlessly searching through the cabinets for what to make for dinner. If Zayne won't be joining her to chastise her for her poor diet, a box (or two) of mac n cheese should do the trick to soothe her feelings.

She sighs, bending down in the pantry to grab the boxes in question, when suddenly she hears a click of the door unlocking. She shoots up in surprise, promptly banging her head into the top of the pantry cabinet. "Fuck!" she cries out, eyes screwed up in pain as she massages the back of her head.

"Hm. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting to me coming home like this."

Zayne's soft, chuckling voice filters in from the foyer, getting louder with each word. When she opens her eyes, still rubbing at the back of her head, she sees him standing in the kitchen entryway, a lush bouquet of white roses and jasmine tucked under his arm. She splutters a little, watching as he presents it to her, a small smile on his face.

"What's this about?" she says softly, taking the bouquet from him, a gentle pink flush rising on her cheeks.

"What, I can't give my girlfriend flowers?" He steps closer, closing the space between them. He's still in his white coat and scrubs underneath, and she can see the slight tiredness in his eyes. "Besides, they're an apology."

"For what?" she mutters, setting the bouquet down on the dining room table.

"For not being able to spend more of Christmas with you," he murmurs, capturing one of her hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I know you weren't happy that I had to work. I'm sorry. It wasn't ideal."

She feels a mild pang of guilt. He hadn't seemed bothered by her pouting and whining about it all of Christmas Eve, brushing it off at every turn with his signature even-keeled demeanor. But she'd misjudged him, it seems, as she searches his gaze, seeing his brow furrow slightly. "I really am sorry," he says quietly. "We couldn't open presents in the morning because I had to go to work."

"Oh..." she shakes her head. "Don't... worry about that."

"I do worry," he says softly, lowering her hand from his lips, but keeping his hold on it, thumb skating soothingly over the back of her hand. "I know it's important to you."

"It's not a big deal," she says hastily. "You didn't have to come today if--" "I wanted to come back," he says, voice carrying a bit of a harder edge now, an authoritative quality signaling it's not up for debate. "I wanted to see you. And to give you my gift."

She sighs a little, still feeling guilty. "The flowers are beautiful, Z. But you didn't have to rush back--"

His brow furrows. "That's not the gift," he says gently.

He guides her over to the couch, gesturing for her to sit down. "Just a moment," he says softly, walking off to retrieve his bag, which he begins to rummage through.

The sun has set quickly, the room now enveloped in darkness, the only light source now being the Christmas tree. The soft white lights send pinpricks of light dancing across the room. She hears a match flick, and turns around to see Zayne lighting a candle behind her, setting it down on the coffee table. A small smirk plays at her lips. "Getting romantic, are we?" He lights another candle, placing it nearby. "No," he says matter-of-factly. "Just a moment. You'll see."

She almost rolls his eyes at his inability to go with the joke, the grin lingering on her lips. He sits down on the couch opposite her, and then produces an unassuming box, flat and rectangular, tied with a dark gray ribbon. It fits in both of his hands, and he hands it over to her. "Your gift."

She looks down, fingers working through the ribbon and gently untying it. She hesitates for a moment, and then opens the box.

Inside lies a stunning, thin silver necklace, adorned with what looks like hundreds of soft blue gemstones that twinkle alluringly as soon as the candlelight hits them. Each gemstone is tear shaped, like a shimmering droplet of rain.

"Zayne..." her breath catches in her throat.

"Do you like it?" he says softly, with a hint of hesitation in her voice anyone but her would miss. She nods, and he lets out a soft hum of relief, gently lifting the necklace from the box and moving closer to fasten it around her neck.

"I lit the candles because I wanted to see how it looked in their light," he mutters softly, his breath ghosting over her ear as he attaches the necklace around her. He pulls away, his eyes watching how the glittering stones seem to dance and shift in the light.

"Beautiful," he says, voice a little hoarser than usual. She swallows softly, the space between them nearly pulsing, reverberating with unsaid words. She knows Zayne isn't much of a talker, but she's learned to be attuned to his face and body enough that she can read his emotions like a book, a consequence of the past year they've spent dating. She sees him fidget slightly, the pulse thrum slightly faster in his neck, the way his eyes flick between the jewelry and her eyes, as if watching to see how the candlelight dances there too.

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick with emotion as she takes one of his hands in her own. It's cold, as his hands always are, and she scoots a little closer to him on the couch. "It is beautiful."

He clears his throat. "I was talking about you," he says.

It's like the world falls blissfully quiet-- even the weight of all the things that they can't find the words to say say feels lighter suddenly. The feeling of his hand in hers, slowly warming between her palms, grounds her in this moment.

The tree glows softly, the lights flickering like thousands of little fireflies, casting a golden glow across the room. Under the mask of the dim light, it's like the exhaustion is erased somehow from Zayne's features, and all she can see is the warmth in his deep, forest green stare, desperately trying to push forth. She squeezes his hand. "Merry Christmas," she says softly.

"Merry Christmas," he replies, in a whisper, squeezing back.

[agirlwithglam]

embarrassment is a choice.

so today i was feeling a bit tormented by something that happened a while ago (a year ago i think even!) and t

bh idk why it came up so randomly now, but it just makes me cringe and feel so embarrassed by what happened. so i'm taking it as a sign to write this post for anyone who needs it.

embarrassment is a choice.

i know how icky it can feel to recall a past memory about something that happened, but let me just tell you one thing; the past doesn't exist. the past only exists in your mind. it only exists because you give it your attention and your energy. so if you don't like the way something unfolded out in the past, change it! go into your mind, go through the whole situation and then just change what happened. this exercise is just something to give you a peace of mind so you're not bothered by what had happened.

but whats important to know about embarrassment is that it only exists if you choose it. if you choose to be embarrassed.

listen honey, the only time someone would judge you is that either a) they want to be at such a high place that you're currently at & their insecure, or b) they're to afraid about what other people think to be doing what you are doing right now. c) or they're just really sad with their own lives. no one listens to what this person has to say so the only time people do listen is when they talk about you.

in fact, you should seriously applaud yourself for doing something so daring, so scary something outside of your comfort zone instead of just simply staying quiet and small.

this also links into exposure therapy. the more you do something that scares you and its outside of your comfort zone like being alone, or going after an ambitious goal, the more you start to become used to the feeling. you start to become more numb to it so it means that you're not as affected or sensitive to it as you used to be.

right now, the best thing you can do is just do it anyway.

"they're gonna judge you anyway so you might as well just do it"

and think: will this matter in a year? will be a big deal in 5 years? chances are, it won't be. and plus, anyone who does make you feel ashamed or cringy for doing you and being yourself, they don't deserve a space in your life anyway. you're being GUIDED on a higher path to a life with better people, better environment. so girl, unless you're not hurting anyone, GO!! LIVE YOUR LIFE!!!

its not your life if you're living it based on other people!

at the end of the day, we all die. we're on this earth for a limited time. you will grow old, the haters will grow old, then, we will all leave this earth. and that is a very peaceful thing to understand. nothing matters at all. you'll be 90 on your deathbed one day and you want to be thinking "i lived. i lived an amazing, happy, fulfilling. authentic life." so right now, you do everything that will make you feel that way when that day comes without another care in the world for what someone else things.

love you always, have a beautiful day. xoxo, Vanilla <3

[lavnderwonu]

book lovers | wen junhui

pairing: bookish!jun x bookish!fem!reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

rating: mature

summary: working at your campus library and attending classes gets kinda lonely, until someone comes along and changes that.

warnings: contains smut (!!!), meet-cute, jun is tooth rottenly sweet (yes! that’s a warning!), semi public sex (in a library), unprotected sex, kinda sorta a quickie(?) idk its sorta rushed, bigdick! jun, size kink, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms.

mini playlist 🎵: into you by ariana grande, little bit by lykke li, feel you by okayceci

word count: 2.3k

author’s note!: AHHHH this was so much fun to write. i literally spent so much time daydreaming about this whole plot & the characters. im a little women enthusiast & a classic book lover, i know im a nerd! also i will always always find an excuse to write fluff. i just love love love writing cute shit! im sort of a sucker for it. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG TOO LMAO but as always, i appreciate any feedback, & i hope you enjoy! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

“So… you’re assignment is to read the passage, then write a minimum 3 page essay whether you agree or disagree with the author’s viewpoint.”

Your professor gestures to the board behind him, emphasizing how important it is to acknowledge.

“Due by Monday, I won’t be giving any extensions. Class dismissed.”

“Y/n.” Your friend nudges you, as you currently have your face buried in your book, totally ignoring the lecture. “C’mon, class is over… did you even hear what the assignment was?”

You shut your book, Little Women, a book you’ve read numerous times but you never got sick of. It was a million times more appealing than hearing your literature professor ramble during a lecture.

“Yeah… some three page essay.” You remark, tossing the book in your bag. “I gotta hurry, I have a shift at the library for a few hours. Text me the assignment, okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.”

You quickly grab your binder & notebook and walk out of class, headed for the library.

You’re about halfway there, until someone passing by bumps your shoulder, knocking your things to the ground.

Crouching down to pick them up, you hear somebody shouting sorry! in the distance as you mumble under your breath, “Doesn’t anybody watch where they’re going? Jesus…”

You’re gathering up some papers that fell out of your binder, until you spot an extra set of hands suddenly helping you, and a voice saying, “Let me help you with that.”

You look up, eyes locking with a tall, cute brown-haired boy, whom was now handing you your papers and notebook.

“Sorry, I couldn’t just walk by and not help. People can be so rude.” He smiles sweetly, handing over your papers he picked up. “I’m Jun, I’m in your literature class.”

“Y/n, and thanks, it’s what I get for not paying attention in lecture I guess.” You joke, finishing putting your stuff away as you both stand.

“How is Little Women?” Jun asks.

“I’ve read it before, it’s one of my favorite— wait how did you know that’s what i was reading?”

He laughs. “I saw you reading it in class, you have an incredible attention span. Quite impressive actually.”

“Last week, you read Jane Eyre, and during lecture Soonyoung came in late and the professor got mad, then they both got into this whole big argument, but you didn’t look up once, just kept reading. I’ve been watching you.

“Watching me?” You must have a confused, creeped out look on your face, cause the way he responds next makes you laugh.

“No, No, I don’t mean that in a creepy way like I’m watching you, I just mean that I noticed you, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

A cute boy like him noticed you?

“Laurie proposes to Jo and she says no, even though she’s still in love with him!” You exclaim, explaining your favorite book to Jun, as he holds it in his hands. “I cannot believe you never read it before.”

He shrugs, “I don’t read all that much.”

“We’ll, I think you’ll love it. The story is very enjoyable, and it’s not hard to read, which is surprising since it was written so long ago.” You continue.

“…Would your love for this book have anything to do with the fact that in both movies Laurie was played by Christian Bale, and Timothee Chalamet?”

“No,” You fail at attempting to hide your grin. “But it’s an added bonus. Christian Bale is a very underrated Laurie in my opinion, by the way.”

“Okay, I’ll read it,” Jun gives in, examining the book thoroughly and thumbing through it. “When do you need it back?”

“Whenever,” You say. “I don’t need it back by any certain time so you can take your time with it, and really enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know I will.” Jun smiles.

“Make sure you put these all away before you close up tonight,” Your library coworker tells you, as she gets ready to leave for the night. “Apparently the boss said she wants them out on display up front for tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll do it right now, before I forget,” You reply, retrieving the small stack from the counter. “I have to run those returns upstairs to reshelve.” 

You walk over to the front table just as you hear the door open. 

“We close in thirty- oh! It’s you.” Your coworker says, making you turn around to see who it was. 

It was Jun. “Y/n! Your boyfriend is here.” 

You smile at him as he walks over to you, “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to do something tonight, maybe dinner… a movie?” He says, as he now towers over you & kisses your forehead. “You’re already dressed cute,” he makes note of your outfit. “I like that skirt.”

“I’m working right now…” You sigh.

“That’s okay, I can wait. I only have…” Jun checks his watch. “Oh, twenty five minutes now.” 

“Whatever,” You smile as you chuckle at him. “Just go sit at the desk, don’t mess up anything.” 

“Oh, before I forget, I brought your book back.” Jun starts as he sits down, reaching into his book bag. 

“There’s no way you already finished it. I gave it to you yesterday.” 

“I just wanted to leave you some notes in the margins for you.” Jun says, handing the book over to you.

You flip through the book, seeing how it’s littered with sticky notes and tabs, marking the different pages.

“You’ve read this before…” You glance over the notes written on a page. 

“A few times.” He smiles as your eyes meet his.

“I thought you didn’t read much?” 

“What is much…?” 

You lean in closer to him, kissing him. “You’re unbelievable.” You smile.

“You liked it? I was wondering if you’d be mad if I nearly defaced your book.” He says, with a chuckle.

“No, no, I couldn’t be mad,” You smile, playfully running your fingers through his hair. “Besides you didn’t actually write in it, if you did, that might be a different story.”

You kiss him one more time, “Well I have some stuff to finish really quick, wait here?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’m sure I can find something to keep me entertained for a few.” Jun remarks, picking up a book that was in the return stack on the counter.

You finish up the rest of your display, and the returns you had to put away (…even unfortunately stealing the book that Jun was occupying). Your coworker had left for the night and it was time to close up.

“Okay, that’s it for the night.” You announce to Jun, starting to gather up your things. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s- shit!” You realize you still had stuff to put away upstairs. “I forgot to put these ones upstairs.” You grab the few books.

��Come with me?” 

“You won’t be okay by yourself?” He asks, obviously joking with you.

“Cmon, it’s eerie when it’s so quiet, just cmon.” You grab his hand and nearly pull him to the elevator. 

“These few go over here,” You lead him over to the fiction section. “And these go… over here…” You start walking to the next aisle over.

You reach up to attempt to place the last book on the highest shelf, but you’re just a little too short.

“Can you help me?” You laugh, turning to the 6 foot man standing close to you. “I’m too short for this.”

Jun laughs with you, grabbing the book from you. “Where’s it go?” 

“Right next to that one, with the red cover.” 

He places it on the shelf, “Is that the only one?”

“Yeah, that’s all of them.” 

Jun moves to stand in front of you, conveniently trapping you between him and the bookshelf behind you. You mentally thank whoever designed the floor plan in the library to make the aisles so small.

He moves closer to you, nearly pressing himself against you, so close you can smell the cologne he has on.

“You know I can’t help but realize… we’re all alone here.” 

“Yeah… I know, it’s almost-“ You start, as you're cut off with him kissing you.

You moan against his lips as his hands slide up your cardigan sweater, and he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jun…” You moan, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, kissing your lips again.

“Yes, very much.” You whisper, his face still close to yours. “But we can’t do this here…”

“Why not? There’s nobody here…” Jun whispers, as he kisses your neck a few times.

“The cameras, there’s cameras around here..” You say, then you grab his hand. “Cmon, in here.” You lead him down the hall down to one of the study rooms. 

You enter the dimly lit room, and shut the door behind you, but not before realizing how secluded and somehow intimate these rooms somehow are. Okay… mentally noted.

You sit on the table as Jun slots himself between your thighs, he’s kissing on your neck as he’s pulling your sweater off your body. He pauses to pull his sweater and t-shirt off of himself. 

Jun kisses your lips again, more fervently this time, as you’ve both become more eager.

“Lay back for me.” Jun whispers against your lips.

You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his long hair as you lean back on the table, and you try not to giggle as his lips trail from your chest, and down your stomach, tickling you a little.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles into your skin, in between kisses.

You smile as you run your fingers through his hair once more, and you feel Jun’s hands side up your thighs underneath your skirt.

“Can I take these off?” Jun asks, eyes meeting yours as his fingers tug on the waistband of your underwear.

“Yeah…” you speak, lifting your hips to give him better access. You start to take your skirt off, but he stops you. 

“No… leave it on.” Oh. You can feel your face get hot.

After many times being in these study rooms, you couldn’t ever imagine that you’d ever be in here… like this, with a gorgeous boy as he’s taking off your clothes, yet here you are.

“Jun…” You sigh, as his hands are pulling you to the edge of the table, and pushing your thighs apart.

“This okay?” He questions, as he’s putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Yeah…” You breathe, nodding, as your hands find the edge of the table to grip it with anticipation. Afterall, you can’t see him with your skirt in the way… hmm, suppose it's all part of his plan.

“God, you're so wet and all I did was kiss you…” Jun says lowly, kissing your thigh gently as his breath fans over your core. 

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s bringing his thumb to your clit, circling it slowly a few times, making your breath hitch at the contact.

“Jun, please…” You whine, aching for more.

“Alright baby…” He all but mumbles back to you, and you feel his tongue slide over your clit, and you throw your head back at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling. He groans against your clit as he slides two fingers inside you, making you arch your back and practically grind your hips down on his hand.

“Shit, baby…” You whine, as his fingers effortlessly reach your sweet spot repeatedly. “Right there… I’m gonna fucking come…” 

“Go on baby,” Jun pulls back, kissing your thigh a few times, all while his fingers don’t let up “C’mon…”

You practically cry his name, as you feel the orgasm rush over you, leaving your chest heaving as you catch your breath. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Jun whispers to you, as you hear rustling and the clink of a belt buckle as he’s undoing his jeans. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, finally catching your breath, but your breath hitches in your throat as he’s suddenly dragging the tip of his cock through your wet folds, the tip bumping your sensitive clit as you’re hinted at the mere size of him.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch making your nails dig into his biceps. 

“Fuck…” Jun curses as he hovering over you, kissing your neck as he bottoms out, his thrusts shallow so you can get used to him.

“Jun… shit,” You moan, your fingers threading through his hair. “You’re too big.”

“You can take me.” His lips softly graze your collarbone, just as his hand trails lower and lower, until his fingers find your clit.

You whine his name, suddenly your senses are overwhelmed with the feeling of the pressure on your clit and his cock inside you, hitting spots so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

A particularly hard thrust nearly pushes you further up the table, making you nearly cry as you’re already on the edge.

“Shit, I’m already gonna come…” You cry, arching your back as you already feel the familiar tingle spreading through you, making your toes curl.

“C’mon…” Jun grunts, as his fingers find your clit again, and it feels divine with the way he’s pounding into you. “Come for me… give me one more…”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, he keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

You both say nothing for a few, catching your breath, until you fully register what you just did.

“Oh my god…” You say as you’re getting dressed. “I cannot believe we just did that…” You cover your face as you blush, but also can’t help but laugh.

Afterall, who would've thought?

“Why are you laughing?” Jun notices you trying to hide the fact that you’re blushing, pulling your hand away. “You didn’t like it?” He already knows the answer. 

“Yeah… but I never thought I’d do that, you know… here.” You smile right before you kiss him. 

“But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again…”

tags: @chiefjunlover @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @aaniag @jenoslutie

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 27 -  Gloves

When Sherlock finally found him, John was standing by a frozen lake in the park, shivering. Sherlock was furious. He had just given John gloves and a scarf for specifically this purpose. Beautiful, warm cashmere, even. John had worn them to dinner but where were they now? He knew that even though it was a new habit for John, he would likely refuse to give Sherlock the satisfaction of being right. He would stand there and freeze to death rather than put them on, or admit he’d forgotten them. But Sherlock wouldn’t argue now. John Watson was clearly in crisis in this moment. Now was not the time.

Sherlock moved slowly closer, finally standing beside him in silence. John was staring across the lake, so Sherlock stood beside him, staring out over the lake too. He didn’t want to disturb John, but he needed to help him. He turned to say something and saw John shivering. He could even hear his teeth chattering. He reached out and put a hand on John's arm and the poor man startled like a wild deer. As if he hadn’t even registered that Sherlock was there yet.

“John…” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed uncomfortably, still deep in thought.

“John.” 

“What, Sherlock?” John finally asked, in an irritated growl.

“You’re angry.”

“No. I’m embarrassed, Sherlock.” John shuffled his feet uncomfortably but still refused to turn and look at his friend. 

“You needn’t be,” Sherlock replied gently. “He seemed… very nice.”

“He’s not. Appearances can be very deceiving,” John snapped.

“Is that… why… you…?” Sherlock hesitated.

“Sherlock.” John’s tone was a firm warning.

“I’m just trying to understand, John. You’re always saying you're—“

“Not gay. I know,” John interrupted, finally crossing his arms across his body.

“So, are all the women… a cover up or…?”

“No. Please, Sherlock,” he pleaded. When Sherlock remained silent, John finally spoke again. “I’m… I suppose I’d be bisexual or some part of that grey area that’s indefinable. If it were anyone’s business. If it needed to be clarified,” he said bitterly. “It’s barely relevant since I don’t really date, do I? Not really. I like sex. Who it’s with is generally not so important, although I tend to fall into more traditional, binary preferences and women are just… easier.”

“But that… there… was a relationship, John. You told me it was a relationship…” Sherlock tried to open the lines of communication.

“An awful one.”

“It mustn’t have been. On the train you said…”

“Sherlock, I really don’t want to go over this. If you must know, we were together in medical school and he was an abusive, manipulative piece of work who lied about what he wanted." John sighed heavily. The weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders. "And I got away from him… and I won’t ever be in that position again. Alright?”

Sherlock nodded quietly, knowing better than to push any further. They stood for a while in more silence, and John’s eyes teared up. A single tear made its way down his face. He looked at Sherlock with clear embarrassment. The realisation of what had happened finally hitting him.

“Sorry. I just haven’t seen him… since…”

“John, you’re shaking,” Sherlock said, moving slightly closer, wanting to help him now that his walls were finally coming down.

“Well, it’s bloody cold.”

“You never bring your gloves! Honestly,” Sherlock growled.

“I did!" John argued. "Left them in the bloody restaurant, didn't I?” John sighed.

Sherlock stepped forward. “Here,” he said grabbing both of John’s hands in his.

“What are you doing?” John squeaked, suddenly nervous.

“You’re bloody freezing, John!” Sherlock said angrily. “You’ll catch your death out here. You’re always telling me you don’t like the hassle of scarves and gloves and for someone who has such truly terrible fashion sense, I can't fathom why you’re being so fashion conscious about the one thing that might actually stop you dying of hypothermia. And now, you’re freezing your backside off. So let me warm you up, for heavens sake! Not everything has to mean something alright?” he snapped.

John clenched his jaw after the scolding. “Fine.” He held his hands out again and Sherlock stepped closer. 

“Here,” Sherlock said, pulling his scarf off and tying it around John’s neck before he could argue. Then he held John’s hands between his gloved ones. “Stand closer,” he directed.

John flicked him a dubious look.

“I’m not a predator, John. Why do you always behave like I’m going to…”

John shuffled closer in, stopping Sherlock's words. Their hands were now touching and resting against their chests. They had formed a circle of enclosed body heat. They stood in silence, breathing in each other’s air and finally, John’s shivering started to settle.

“Better?” Sherlock asked, his voice calmer now.

John stayed silent for a moment. “Better,” he finally admitted with a nod. “I do really like my scarf and gloves. I think they fell under the table at dinner. They were with my things when we arrived. I’m not used to having them yet. Sorry.”

He looked up at Sherlock, and in that moment, being so close, he felt sure Sherlock would see something. He would know. John really only had one secret left to hide. The secret that could have him out on the street. Sherlock thought John was worried he was a predator, when really, it was the other way around. John was terrified Sherlock would figure out what was in his head. Surely Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate his flatmate harbouring secret feelings for him? And now, here they were, entwined in a park, in the dark, alone. If John didn’t know any better, it would almost be romantic.

When Sherlock finally looked at him, their faces were so close, their eyes boring into each others. It was mesmerising. Their breath was filling the same space, the condensation leaving their mouths like elegant smoke, entwining like lovers in the narrow space between them. It felt incredible. John was definitely warm. rom the very tip of his toes to his eyeballs everything felt bloody warm now. He was on fire for this man. And now he could feel his breathing finally settling to match the pace of his flatmate’s, calming him.

If only he could read the expression on Sherlock’s face right now.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked. John sighed with irritation. “Sherlock…” But still, he looked up at his friend, allowing him the space to talk.

Sherlock went on. “When we met, you were trying to figure me out, and what to expect with me and I was… uncomfortable too.”

“I remember.”

“Well, just so it’s clear... I am gay.” Sherlock admitted. "Non-practising, though."

John scoffed at that. “I already gathered as much,” John said.

“But you said to me… Back then, you said… it was all fine,” Sherlock continued.

“Yes, so?” John frowned.

“Did you really mean it?”

“I did,” John confirmed.

“But… it hasn’t been all fine, has it? Not really. You haven’t been fine with... any of it,” Sherlock said quietly. "And I've been trying to decide if it's me... or just your own thing... or...?"

John sighed. “I want to be comfortable. With myself. I want to be. But I know I’m not. I’m sort of just drifting along, following your lead, Sherlock, if I'm honest. I go where you go. To Belgium if required. And wherever else you need. The rest... the personal stuff... it just stays over at the side in a dumpster fire not being dealt with.” John made sure to look at Sherlock. "It's not you. It's my own mess."

“This is why the case upset you? The man with the… husband?” Sherlock asked.

“He wasted it. He was able to marry that man but it wasn’t even… he was just collecting spouses like they didn’t even matter. It was so wasteful and so unfair…” John said bitterly between clenched teeth. “And some of us…” He couldn’t finish the thought, his eyes tearing up again.

Sherlock frowned. “John—?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sherlock,” he said firmly, a sob escaping from his chest. The humiliation was palpable. “I didn’t want you to know any of that and now…”

Sherlock moved his hands away and grabbed both of John’s shoulders, forcing John to look into his eyes. "John, there's something I've been wanting to..."

“I’m tired Sherlock. Please stop,” he pleaded.

Sherlock had thought he might make his move tonight. Things had been so good and on the way home, he was going to talk to John. Their conversation had seemed comfortable lately and he really thought it might be possible to say something. But now, after this revelation. Alex. Sherlock realised that what had been going on in John's head was not at all what he thought, and now things were way more complicated.

“Let’s just go home,” John said, closing his eyes. Everything had been ruined by the appearance of Alex.

Sherlock's face softened slightly, his hands squeezed John's shoulders ever so slightly in support. “I just wanted to say, it’s all fine, John,” he said, looking deep into John's eyes. “I mean it. Whatever you need. It’s all fine.”

John nodded without a word. His heart hurt. His mind was fried. Was it really all fine? Did Sherlock know? Did he suspect? Or was he just trying to be a supportive friend right now?

“Let’s go back and get your things from the restaurant,” Sherlock said gently. “I don’t want anyone else wearing your posh accessories. They’re yours, and yours alone.” He finally let go of John but left his scarf around John’s neck, in a possessive move. His soft and Sherlock-scented scarf, which would drive John crazy all the way home.

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

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@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

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@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[swanimagines]

Hello! So I've been reading a lot of your works *cough* mainly Kaz and Pin *cough* and I was wondering if I could request one? If so, A6 from your dialogue prompt list with Kaz Brekker. Have a great day <3

Prompt: A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”

A/N: I still can't look at him without remembering I actually have HUGGED that man and I get to do it once more in two months I-

RUMOUR TOLD ME

Ketterdam, in its darkness and grimness, was the last place Kaz would expect to find someone like you. You, a cheery, warm person who believed all people were good unless proven otherwise. And even working with the Dregs hadn’t wiped that attitude off you, which had always puzzled Kaz. And maybe it was the way you always saw the good in everyone was what made him develop feelings for you. Or rather, as he convinced himself, he was maybe slightly interested, but not necessarily romantically.

Either way, he treated you like he had always treated you, as another Crow, and he thought everyone else thought so too. And maybe that’s why it was so shocking when you came to the Slat one day, laughing as you slid to sit at the bar counter, one stool away from Kaz.

He stared at you for a moment, and you locked eyes with him. “I just heard the funniest thing.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Kaz mumbled, glancing at the barkeeper who immediately started preparing a drink for him.

“There’s a rumour circling around that Kaz Brekker has a crush,” you snickered, and Kaz immediately froze. “And the crush being me. Ugh, people are so weird.”

A short silence descended upon you, and your giggling echoed in Kaz’s mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Get it together, Brekker.

“And you find it funny?” Kaz grumbled, which earned a frown from you.

“Well, we are complete opposites. I mean, I guess people who sent this rumour going are probably avid romance novel readers whose favourite trope is ‘opposites attract’ but I have no idea what kind of drink they took to get themselves so drunk that they spun out this kind of theory.” You shrugged, gesturing to the barkeeper to prepare a drink for you too.

Kaz scowled. “Those kinds of rumours should be cut off before they have a chance to fly.”

You laughed. “Oh come on Kaz, it’s just some children spinning stories for their entertainment, it won’t hurt anyone.”

Kaz almost barked at you, telling you that children of Ketterdam should know better than joke with things like that before someone teaches them what it’s like to lose the fun in their life forever, but he held himself back. His mind momentarily filled with pictures of what could happen if the wrong kind of people found out about that rumour and believed it. You’d disappear and eventually come back to the Slat, carried by Matthias, with a knife in your heart, your body already cold, eyes open, beginning to rotten, your mouth opened in an eternal scream–

Kaz shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about that scenario. 

“Rumours are dangerous,” he said, leaning towards you slightly. “Even ridiculous ones.”

You scoffed, waving your hand. “I know, but no one is going to believe something like that.”

Kaz withdrew, taking his cane and gripping the silver crow head. He wanted to tell you you’re off duty for a while. He wanted to claim he needed help in office work, which would bind you into Slat for a few weeks. He wanted to find whoever is spreading this rumour and warn them off, threaten them. Maybe even break their legs to ensure they won’t sing about it.

But even if that would work, and Kaz knew it would, it could be a sign that the rumour actually had truth to it. It would make him look weak, even if that person would never tell about his visit.

You got the drink and downed it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, before you looked at Kaz again. “Do you have any tasks for me? If not, Inej said she’d like to have company when she goes to run an errand but if you have something more important to do, I’ll pass on that.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, staring at his still full glass of kvas. “No.” Be careful.

You nodded and disappeared to the crowd, and Kaz told himself to not look at you walking away. And as soon as your steps faded, he downed the drink and stood up, making his way to the attic. He needed to take his mind off of… this, whatever it was.

But of course, on his way, he came across Jesper waiting by Wylan’s door, spinning his other revolver. Kaz already saw from Jesper’s grin what he was going to say, that he had also heard the rumours. “Hey, Boss. Word is you’ve got a crush on our Sunshine the Second.”

Kaz cocked an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think that?”

Jesper stopped spinning his revolver and shrugged. “Well. It’s been obvious for all of us for a while. I suspected it, so I told Nina, and she listened to your heartbeat while our star Sunshine was around, and–”

“And nothing,” Kaz barked. “Whatever you have heard or understood, is not true.”

Jesper cackled, and Kaz wanted nothing more than to stuff the handle of Jesper’s beloved revolver into his throat at that moment. But it was more because he realised everyone knew. His Crows, at least, knew.

When Jesper stopped cackling, his tone was more serious. “But hey, I understand that this… thing isn’t a good thing to be circling around. If you want some of us to go uh, find out who put the rumour to circle in the first place, just tell us.” He winked. “And of course, no telling your beloved.”

Kaz thought, staring at Jesper. He wanted to keep denying it, tell Jesper everyone are idiots, doubt Nina’s skills as a heartrender. But he knew that nothing would work anymore, everything would just confirm their every suspicion, those that were true and those that were not true.

So he nodded. “Deal with it. Quietly.”

Jesper nodded in return. “Always, boss.”

And when Kaz continued ascending the steps, he could almost hear Jesper’s grin. If there had been some doubt in Jesper’s mind, now there most definitely wasn’t.

Kaz knew that his Crows knowing except for you was miles better than the whole Ketterdam knowing. If everyone knew, or if such suspicions would rise to any extent, they would inevitably eventually go straight to rivaling gangs. And at that point, depending on how stupid they were, they could follow the rumour just in case and ambush you.

They would be stupid because if you were killed by a gang, Kaz wouldn’t rest before each one’s guts had painted every wall of their past territory, but they would also be smart because they’d take away the one thing Kaz truly cared about in this world, and it would be the second time around. Kaz wasn’t sure if he would ever recover, which would potentially make him weak in a way, maybe even suicidal with his hunger for bloodshed. He could be the most feared person in all of Kerch for a few weeks, but constantly throwing himself in situations he could get killed would eventually kill him. It could even be his goal, to die fighting and take as many of his enemies with him before that.

But after those little gossipers would be getting caught and warned off, things would maybe become better, and Kaz would be able to forget about this whole mess.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[deepdreamnights]

Context on why you absolutely should not use ChatGPT for a therapist:

ChatGPT isn't going to be equipped for therapy (or any health related process). It's trained on the general internet and that includes all the psuedoscience, quackery, and scammery... and fiction, and Reddit, and IM conversations, and...

It's as likely to simulate Tony Robbins or Frasier Crane as the American Psychiatric Association.

The grand irony of generative AI is that you have to know enough to evaluate whether what the system generates is useful.

When generative AI is being used to its strength, as an aesthetics simulator, this isn't terribly critical because the worst case scenario is a mediocre creation with some IKEA effect in play.

But being able to tell when the robot is yes-and-ing you and when it's providing accurate information becomes way more important when it's your physical or mental health. And if you know enough about psychotherapy to tell when ChatGPT is giving you good vs bad information, then you know enough about psychotherapy to not get it from a chatbot.

Even if/when hyper-specialized medical assistant AIs specifically trained for the purpose are deployed, they would have the potential to be more dangerous than useful in the hands of a non-trained layperson (no different than if you shoved a medical textbook in my left hand, a set of pinking shears in my right, and told me to pull out someone's appendix).

The responsible use would be as a form of rapid physician's reference, and then only after it passed the toughest testing the FDA could throw at it.

Please use whatever other legitimate sources available to you.

guys. please

[eurydicees]

oh dont apologise i loved your essay 😭 and i 100% agree with everything. Theres such a innate theme of choices and consequences in wicked the musical and its so fascinating to me how choices made by all the characters have such profound consequences at the end. And fiyero’s choices are no different in the way they alter the trajectory of multiple characters.

He is really the only one i can think of who sacrifices everything for elphaba and does it all willingly. How do you like elphaba and then dislike the one character who was ready to give up his whole life and everything that came with it for her 😭

Twitter is very binary in that regard honestly, and its such a shame that they miss out on some pretty interesting character analysis about their favourite characters bc they decide to be so rigid and weird about other characters who had an impact on their faves. Couldnt be me lol, making multiple threads about a character you hate. I also think something else is at play here but dont wanna say it publicly lol but given your other responses i think you’d probably agree.

And yes totally agree about dividing the film in two parts - i can only hope the film watchers stick around for part 2 and see fiyero��s whole arc

thanks for the ask! also i wrote another fiyero ted talk. if i were like charles dickens or whoever and i was getting paid by the word to write about fiyero, i could be so goddamn rich btw.

anyways, choices and consequences!!!!! like that's the whole thing!!!!!!! and the way our choices affect and change other people!!!! fiyero isn't an exception to any of that!!!!

you're so right that fiyero is truly the one who makes the ultimate sacrifices for elphaba. like glinda loves elphaba, she absolutely does. but she isn't able to take on the work and life that elphaba chooses in defying gravity.

when it comes to the things that are most important to her, glinda prioritizes comfort and reputation over, like, morality and principle. and the thing about glinda is that she actively makes this choice. she chooses not to go with elphaba. she wants elphaba to succeed, but she's not brave enough to join her. in order for glinda to find the bravery to take up the work elphaba starts, she has to lose everything that actually matters. and she has to be complicit in her own losing of those things.

fiyero loves elphaba to the point of sacrificing all of those things that glinda can't resist. the day with the lion cub, and elphaba's general influence on him, changes fiyero profoundly in a similar way that she affects glinda, but fiyero finds the bravery to act on all of that. the difference is that he doesn't get the choice to go with her until mid-act 2 after wonderful.

in thank goodness, there's that one exchange between fiyero and glinda where they say smth like "you just can't resist all of this" "well who could?" "you know who could, and who has." and he's talking about elphaba, he's talking about how she had all the love she ever wanted at the tip of her fingers when she met the wizard, and she chose to let it go because she saw the ugly parts of the wizard's world. and this exchange is so clearly boiling it down to "elphaba resisted the temptation of being universally/publically loved and glinda did not." which tbh is something so in character for a person who has never had that, and a person who has always had that and thus doesn't want to leave it behind.

ok i was going somewhere with this but i don't remember where. just. fiyero isn't a perfect character. and for SURE the choice to erase gelphie's romantic subtext from the book when adapting it for broadway was an act of homophobia. but if we're just looking at musical canon, fiyero is brave enough to give up everything first to save elphaba, then to go with her, and then to protect her. and so-called elphaba stans don't think that's good enough. which is CRAZY to me.

also like. he's literally not the comphet love interest. sorry you didn't mention that but i keep seeing people throw those words around and like that's not what's happening here guys. elphaba loves him. she sings a whole song about it. multiple, even.

comphet implies that she mistakenly thinks she loves him because society has molded her into believing that's how she should be (fyi if anyone's experiencing that, it's glinda but i digress). elphaba, who notably has never been able to comply to the mold society makes for women, because she's never been pretty white woman enough to be afforded a place in that society? you mean that elphaba?

guys elphaba just...loves him. that's all there is to it. she loves him when she realizes he's more than he thinks he is, more than the airs he puts off. she loves him when she feared he might have changed, she loves him when he proves he did change--for the better. she loves him when he sticks by her, when he chooses her. she loves him when he's a fucking SCARECROW. ("go ahead, touch, i don't mind" "you're still beautiful" lives in my head rent fucking free).

when she has her breakthrough "okay. fuck this world that has never been good to me, if you want me to be wicked, i'll be wicked" moment, it's because she loses fiyero. she gets betrayed by nessa, and she fails dillamond, and she loses fiyero--and it's then that she loses sight of what good she had begun fighting for. it's a love for fiyero that drives most of no good deed (broadway songs of all time btw). like sorry but you dont sing someone's name like that if you don't love them. that's just musical theatre rules. trust me i was a theatre major.

anyways. sorry for that detour. back to the point. twitter treats everything as so black and white which is crazy because this is a revisionist musical about how evil isn't black and white. like?????? whatever. imagine being so bitter about a character you dislike that you want to change fundamental pieces of your favorite character so that he isn't relevant.

look. gelphie is great doomed yuri and i support that so hard. but dont try to tell me fiyero isn't deeply important to elphaba and to understanding elphaba's character. tbh the love triangle here isn't fiyero choosing between glinda and elphaba. it's more like elphaba choosing between glinda and fiyero and what either of them represent to her (glinda and working within the system, or fiyero, and abandoning it).

and hot take maybe but like ultimately--as someone who has never been conventionally accepted, as someone who has been hunted down to be murdered, as someone who has been the victim of a smear campaign and propaganda against her character/intentions, all of which was in part driven by glinda--she was always going to choose fiyero.

i respect gelphie shippers, i do. in another world, maybe one without the wizard, they could've been so happy together. i'm with y'all. but given canon, even if all others fall, i will be the last fiyero defender standing. god i hope movie-only fans watch part 2 and at least learn to RESPECT him. at the bare minimum. please. please. please.

[changbinsboobs]

Who in Skz goes out clubbing?

Hello guys im back🌝

Aaannnnddd the answers will probably shock you. Def shocked me 👁️👄👁️

Chan - yes occasionally on the regular. Like if the phase is tight i see him going weekly or something, but always with a group of friends and always for fun, social interactions etc. Not to get drunk, pick up women and be a lil rascal.

Lee Know - no he prefers his solitude and peace and quite. Also the night is dark for a reason he says, when its dark you should be home sleeping. Instead of doing other stuff.

Changbin - feels socially pressured. If he goes he goes against his will. I feel like he may be in circles with very social people who like s bit wilder things than him, and even tho that's not so much his thing he wants to make his friends happy and spend time with them so he goes every once in a while but i don't see him staying long or being active, u probably wouldn't even notice he's there. Its really not his thing.

Hyunjin - he goes but rarely and its intentional. Like he doesn't go there just to let some steam of or just because someone invited him. He has to have a reason to go and a mission to fulfill. I see him going more to social networking partys. (The other guys probably too, like i don't see idols like them going to regular clubs😂). But for hyunjin i see when he goes out partying its something like an after party or a private party involving certain important people etc. He goes to things like this to put himself out there, make himself be seen, win opportunities, get acquainted with people that could be helpful to him etc. It's more like a job to him than leisure.

Han - Im seeing two polar opposites, struggled, something addiction. So if i have to string everything that im picking together i would say he either hates it and u CAN'T force him under any circumstances to go - or he suddenly loves it and get so addicted to it you can't keep him out if the "club". But that energy's really heavy and not nice at all. Reminds me of someone with a gambling problem - that type of addictive.

Felix - isn't up to his values, he has better things to do than that. I see him having went in the past while he was still "undeveloped" (his words not mine if y'all crazy felix fans come at me again im blocking ur asses IMMEDIATELY🫵🏻😤) bubnoe that he's ~mature~ stuff like thats not up to his standard. Seriously tho idk when that shift happened exactly but in the time frame of 6 months (since around i started my acc and have been reading on him) his energy has changed sooooo soooo much. I think he's going through a phase of discovering himself and building his own sense of self. As someone who can definitely relate and would say is already on the other side, i think his transformation/ rebirth hasn't really finished. Let me explain - in the past his energy felt really really strong but u couldn't see/dense it probably it was very mellow, unused, unseen by himself even, it was very very weird seeing someone with that much power not having it utilized. It felt unsettling (now i think i understand why but thats a topic for another time). He didn't really have a sense of self, was very easily swayed, influenced, and didn't really know much about himself or the world, he just felt like a little newborn and went along with the flow not really having a steering wheel i his hands he just sat on other peoples boats and floated on it and let himself be taken by wherever others brought him. This however is not the case anymore - he has his own boat, and now thinks that having a boat means the work is done and he has found his sense of self and knows who he is etc. But thats just the first step, the actual work/journey begins now. He has to learn how his boat works, learn to navigate tides, to know his surroundings to interact with other boaters (idk what they're called). U get where im going at? And oftentimes with people that have been denied their power, freedom and sense of self, and finally come to a point where they reclaim those they switch to a polar opposite of what they were before because that past self is what others were, not u, so the brain makes u go the opposite way to find urself. I see felix being in THAT stage. His energy once very fluid & accepting, suddenly feels very rigid and convinced of certain beliefs and values, he doesn't seem to have the ground to be so convinced in yk. Because that switch is so sudden. So yeah in short i believe he's on a journey of discovering himself and now he's experiencing the stage of the "other side". Eventually he'll come to a crash out, live the consequences from the breakdown and within the healing period he'll actually find his true sense of self and begin from then nurturing that seed and "growing himself" more and more as time goes. Thats my prediction.

Seungmin - loves them 👁️👄👁️ it's really his thing i think he's a hidden charmer. Like ... an actual actual charmer a casanova, a don juan. Those a mainly directed to seducing women tho, i don't see him having that reputation, he's just overall charming and can attract lots of people, feels good in that energy can entertain and just overall he's made for parties and clubbing apparently. It gives him energy & confidence.

I.N - loves clubbing too and does it quite often. Like i see him whenever he can he goes out could be as often as every night or every other night. Definitely a couple times a week. There's not much else to pick up on here, idk why he öikes it so much or what he does when he goes out but yeah he does it often.

[nauticaltrain]

is the way you interpret the stex characters, are they robots or a mix? since they don't feel pain, but bleed oil etc. what is the lore? are they built at a young age or are they built into adults? (p.s your art is delicious too look at !!)

ohohoho boy, the lore i have for you, strap in

(brief note, this is all my personal interpretation and is definitely not the word of god lol. I genuinely love every interpretation and believe that headcanon variety is vital to a healthy fandom ecosystem)

So, this is something I have thought a lot about and still continue to think about. I'm pretty sure I've nailed it down but it might still be a little nebulous so bear with me.

In the most basic sense, my interpretation of Starlight Express, and all of its characters, is that they are real world pieces of rolling stock that have the ability to shift between a train form (primary configuration) and a human form (secondary configuration). Not an uncommon idea in this fanbase.

However, I'm an overthinking bitch, and I love going in-depth on things like this, so let's expand a little.

There are three main phrases that I use to define my interpretation (headcanon? au? lore?) and to keep myself on track when developing ideas. Sort of layers, if you will. They are as follows:

Fabricated manifestation of psyche - This is rolling stock's appearance in secondary configuration, or what we see in the musical. Their human bodies are a cosmetic representation of their will. A psychological trick. It reflects their personalities, their jobs, their mental age, the demographics of the region they serve. There about a million different factors that go into how they look, and like us, they can't control it. (well, except for CB, but he's another story) It's important to note that this is a manifestation. They are not Transformers. Secondary configuration is not 1:1. There are certain things that get muddled in the changeover. Wheel arrangements being different, missing certain parts, changed color palettes. You could open one up and see parts but not in any sort of similar arrangement to their blueprints. I mean, who can honestly picture every single part of their body in perfect detail and then reinterpret it into a new shape? (this is in part my answer to discrepancies between the real costumes and my lore shh shh)

Counterfeit reflection of humanity - This is their minds. They are our copies. They experience everything we do. They work, play, socialize, fight, fall in love. You could talk to a piece of rolling stock and have a fully human conversation. They are people. However, the longer your conversation goes on for, you may notice certain...oddities. Gaps in their knowledge, speaking in rhythmic sentences, constant repetitive movement. Someone copied humans and didn't do the most perfect job. Like looking at human culture through a lens. Many a train has pondered the simultaneous existence of being machine and being alive.

Physical incarnation of industrialism - Now this, is the origin of all of this. The humans did not create trains to be the way they are. Every piece of rolling stock is designed as they would be in the real world: vehicles to transport people and goods from one place to the next. No one designed Greaseball's slicked back hair or big, studded belt, they designed an EMD E7 built for pulling fast passenger trains. My point is, at the advent of industrialism as we know it, the trains manifested their secondary configurations themselves. They are the offspring of humanity, sired by ingenuity and innovation and birthed from the overturned earth of the Industrial Revolution. No one knows how or why, they just are.

So, in summary, they're sort of robots? Sort of a power of the mind situation? Sort of my own self-reflection on the nature of being alive?

Bonus facts!

Indeed, they do not feel pain. In fact, much of their sense of touch in general is limited. It ranges from same sensitivity as human flesh (hands, face, wheels) to just registers contact (shoulder boxes, hip plating, couplers). I have a diagram of the exact distribution somewhere lol

They bleed? Kind of? If parts are pulled off or damaged, they sort of…leak. Also, if their fleshy bits are "injured", the wounds only heal when the actual machinery is repaired. Also also, if you remove a human part (arm, leg, head, etc.) it will turn back into a train part!

Their temperature resistance is notable too. Comfortable is between -10 F to well over 500 F. Anything above or below that, and they start to complain. Wooden rolling stock have a harder time than steel ones.

They're afraid of deep water and tornados.

In addition to their nails being painted in relevant colors (which I believe is a semi-popular headcanon already), their mouths are the same. Some more unnatural colors include, black, yellow, and blue!

Tall! Generally between 12 and 17 feet. Loosely correlates to their height in primary configuration. Some are the same height, some are taller, some are shorter. Really depends on personality. I contemplated once to have their heights be the length of their primary configurations, but that would result in some pretty awkward height differences and they would be too big for their loading gauge.

They always manifest as adults, or at the very least, late teenagers. They kind of age? Sometimes? Momma started out a bit middle aged, but Rusty has spent like 50+ years looking 25. Really depends on the person, workload, environment, etc.