#or at least in my case. this isn’t advice I don’t know you

[luveline]

If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours. 

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid. 

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here. 

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably. 

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing. 

“What?” 

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?” 

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.” 

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?” 

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.” 

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.” 

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.” 

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.” 

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.” 

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly. 

“Like a hole in the head.” 

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid. 

“Hi, Hotch,” you say. 

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says. 

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.” 

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks. 

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging. 

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.” 

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up. 

“You too, Prentiss.” 

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know? 

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says. 

“Missed me?” 

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.” 

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.” 

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them. 

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster. 

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently. 

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?” 

“Both.” 

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke. 

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.” 

“Wait,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Usually. Why?” 

“Are you okay right now?” 

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.” 

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask. 

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually. 

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.” 

“Me too.” 

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection. 

Can JJ make him blush like that? 

—

bombshell fics

[vashti-lives]

If you’re looking for sweater quantities and you’re willing to be patient and flexible littleknits.com has absolutely amazing “full” bag sales that are either five or ten skeins of discontinued yarn, usually at 60-75% discount, but sometimes more. Obviously colors are limited and you can’t be looking for anything really specific (or you can but like all closeout and clearance shopping you have to be very very patient and lucky) but it’s worth checking out and signing up for their mailing list.

Honestly I know we all get way too much junk e-mail but it’s worth signing up for adverts from any high end yarn companies you’re interested in. Rowan is currently having a 60% off sale and free shipping. If you have a LYS (local yarn store) I wouldn’t write that off either. Obviously a brick and mortar store will be more expensive than an online place when it comes to regular prices but they too will have sales a few times a year. I’ve gotten berocco and cascade yarn from my LYS at 75% off. OP may not have one since they were asking about online stuff but also I think new knitters show up to them and get sticker shock and just assume it’s always out of their price range.

Also if you’re a new knitter and you have a LYS it’s a really helpful resource for getting familiar with what fibers you’re likely to enjoy, particularly fibers Joann is less likely to have. Things like alpaca, superwash merino, and linen all have enough commonalities that if you feel a few types in a store it’ll give you a starting point and help you judge if you’ll like a yarn online. It’s not perfect of course but it’s helpful.

This is not exactly related to where to buy yarn but I do think it’s also helpful to remember that your highest cost to nearly any knitting project is always going to be your own labor. When you’re budgeting for a project remember to start by considering how long that project is going to take. If you’re just looking at yarn prices the difference between $20 and $60 is huge but if your project will take 40-50 hours to complete then your base cost is *at least* $400-500 of labor time and the difference between $520 and $560 isn’t nearly so big, particularly when the the extra $40 will get you a huge bump in quality. Obviously if you don’t have the extra $40 you don’t have it but it might be worth saving a little and waiting for sales.

My last advice for buying yarn online is to familiarize yourself with what yardage is standard for each weight of yarn. This isn’t always the case but certain yarn companies can be extremely… optimistic… about what gage is reasonable to use with a yarn. It’s pretty common for yarn to be listed under one weight catagory and then you look at the yardage and the yardage is more consistent with a lower/thinner weight yarn. Most of the time yardage tells you more about a yarn’s weight than the listed category if the two don’t seem to match. Unless it’s a chainette yarn or a fiber that you KNOW will “bloom” a lot in a wet block aways go with the weight class that matches the yardage.

What's a good place online to get decent-quality yarn at a reasonable price?

--

Knitpicks.

Assuming you want wool and that kind of thing, your idea of reasonable is box store prices, and you're in the US. They regularly have amazing sales too, on top of the already-low prices.

The snobbier you are, the more you'll need to look for other people's destashes. I was just at a reuse place today and they happened to just have gotten in some nicer-than-usual yarn with the labels still on.

The ideal is to find someone's grandma who is drowning in her stash or, better yet, someone with a dead grandma and no interest in knitting who needs to dump a bunch of yarn fast. But, of course, it depends if you're the kind of knitter who finds that inspiring or if you just want the correct yarn to use on a project you've already picked out.

I got some Wool of the Andes worsted early in my current phase of knitting, and it's quite nice, especially for the price. I'm currently trying out some of the sport weight because I have a specific Christmas sweater that needs it. I'm finding it scratchier and less nice, but I haven't blocked it yet, so we'll see. The whole Wool of the Andes line is beloved by thrifty knitters.

If you're willing to do some work and you like an adventure, unraveling a thrift store sweater is by far the most cost effective way to get a big lot of yarn. You can check the tag for fiber content. Some of these yarns will be rather thin, so you might hold them double or even triple for hand knitting.

For me personally, it usually makes more sense to chase super deep discounts on ultra premium stuff and then see what I can figure out with the yardage I end up with. It's really going to depend on you and your priorities. If you're longing for cashmere, it makes way more sense to try the thrift store approach. If you have a very specific Christmas colorwork pattern, Knitpicks or the like is probably a better bet. I got a big lot from fabulousyarn.com once when I needed that exact yarn. They seem fine. I don't know a lot about these big online stores, but there are a few of them, and they tend to have good deals.

You also have to consider whether you're going to be able to get continental US shipping (probably free from a US store) or not.

Anyone have thoughts on this?

[npdfaust]

the borderline symptoms in early to mid-teens to npd sublimation cope pipeline

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

This is Her Trying

sum: she sold out every value she holds dear, even a person. That happens to be you. So, one night after Voit’s little game, she speeds to your apartment in hopes you’ll still want her.

(is there a lot of music references? Yes.)

WARNING: BIG ANGSTY, smoking, some fluff?

Emily saw this coming, with the way everything was happening. The BAU hadn’t taken up a case they couldn’t solve, it just seems that now they’ve met their match. Emily didn’t want it to be true, no, she just couldn’t accept that. She was too prideful to give up.

That also meant doing everything in her power to solve this case, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of the law. She hated that she even considered doing it, so why do it at all? That was a question she asked herself often. Sometimes she sat in her chair wondering if Hotch would be disappointed in her. Or if he would tell her that she ‘needn’t worry’ even though she should.

In the midst of all this ‘Gold Star’ business happening, she was also pushing you away. Not noticing the hurt facial expression you made at her clearly not wanting your presence. She pushed you away so much that she had forgotten how much peace you’d bring her. Even Rossi had warned her to go home but she never did listen, she did what she thought was best. But sometimes she couldn’t think for herself.

—

“Shouldn’t you head home to see the Mrs?” Rossi asked, driving them back after Emily had gotten arrested. The truth was, she wanted to go home, she was just too scared that you too would be disappointed in her, and she’d rather not have the person she loved the most think ill of her. “She knows I’m out, it’s fine..” The silver-haired woman grumbled, picking at her thumb nail again. Someday she’d get over the whole thumb thing but now was not the time. All that she was focused on was Brian Garrity being on the top of her list to be killed off if she ever did spiral into madness; which she was already on the brink of.

Dave looked at her with this face, it was his ‘I know you better than you think, please don’t lie to me right now’ face. Emily huffed, groaning as she flopped her head into her hands. “It’s been almost a week and a half, Emily. A hello or hug would suffice” He tutted, even after all these years he still had to teach her fatherly advice.

“She’ll survive, Dave, she’s not going anywhere” Emily seethed, her emotions slightly breaking loose, the Italian took note of her behavior. As he pulled back into the parking lot, he stopped the engine, turning to look at her with a soft expression.

“If I’ve learned anything from my marriages is, never make them wait for you. Because the hardest feeling is choosing whether to wait or give up” He says, exiting the car first to let Emily think.

—

The Unit Chief sat on the rooftop again, the cigarette she was smoking, balanced between her fingers. She only smoked when she was really stressed, that seemed to be almost every day now. You had told her to stop smoking but, old habits die hard.

Ever since that call she had about being on restricted duty she felt like she was completely under the water, she couldn’t breathe. The feeling on being dragged down over and over again was starting to get to her. This definitely wasn’t her first rodeo but it was starting to feel like her last. She kept telling herself to keep pushing and they’d solve this but maybe, for once, they’ve gotten a case they won’t figure out.

The BAU was crumbling around them, the public was already trampling on the name. But if they didn’t figure this out, what was the point of anything? What was the point of all this work if she couldn’t even save herself?

How could she protect her team when her choices were the ones hurting them? She’d been dying inside since Bailey’s death. She couldn’t give up now, she had to figure this out so he didn’t die in vain. But she wanted to give up, it was so much easier to lay down and die.

This isn’t how she imagined she’d end up. A broken marriage, at least she thought so, a broken team, a broken case, everything was tumbling down and she didn’t have the energy to build them back up anymore. She always wondered how some people could die with so much happiness accepting that they didn’t do everything they wanted to. That was one of the qualities that made you fall for her.

She didn’t stop till she got what she wanted. That’s how you agreed to go on one date with her. She was insistent that she was the one for you. At first you didn’t want to, not wanting to be with someone so ambitious since it could end badly, later she showed you that you were the only one she wanted.

Letting out a shaking breath, Emily looked below, the who-ing of the owls seemed to be her only company that night. The stars were shining above her, she was jealous of them. How could they live so peacefully without worry. They were taunting her with their beauty.

Almost like the first time you and her met. She smiled at the memory, her time of youth escaped her but she never seemed to forget it.

~~

You were one of Garcia‘s friends, she met you during one of her baking lessons, and got to know you during one of her cooking lessons. You were skilled in both, your nimble fingers kneading the dough, your hands holding the sharp knife as you made precise cuts on the vegetables.

Emily could’ve never been prepared for the day you’d given Penelope a visit at work. She practically choked on her coffee the moment you walked in. You were stunning, your eyes soft like the morning rain, your face free from blemishes and impurities, even your hands looked extremely agile. Your presence alone cast an ethereal radiance around the room. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Your brow arched, signaling her to introduce herself, Emily quickly stumbled to her feet with a goofy smile. She was enchanted by your shining grin. Internally, she was panicking so bad she couldn’t even think about what comes out of her mouth next, she was too busy staring at your tits.

“Prentits, Emily” she said a little too confidently, she slapped a hand over her mouth as Morgan barrel rolled on the floor in laughter. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope were snickering in the background. Hotch and Reid stood with shocked expressions, for once, Aaron had cracked a smile.

”I’m sorry! I meant Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you as well” her voice got more silent with each word, the red hue over taking her face. You laughed, “it’s okay, Emily,” you leaned into her ear, “but next time just ask to look at them.”

~~

Emily snorted to herself, still looking into the dark nothingness below her. A soft chuckle escaped her, even the darkness seemed more peaceful than whatever she had going on. In those few minutes that she had stared into the oblivion, she realized, it wasn’t too late to fix things. At least with you anyway, she just hoped that you’d still want her after everything she had put you through.

The guilt of leaving you alone for so long clawed at her. As she now hurried down the halls, she thought of you. That smile that could make her melt, the laugh that could infect anybody, and those arms that held her close when no one understood her.

Even in the car, the first thing that played was your favorite song. She slammed her fist against the console, the pain was agonizing but that was the least of her problems. Her fingers gripped around the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and cramped. As she speeded home, she realized that she dearly missed your lips. Your soft, delicate, and loving lips. Even the first time the both of you had said you loved each other, she knew that you were gonna kiss her in a way that was gonna screw her up forever.

At the door of your shared house, she felt a sinking feeling in her chest, her hands turned clammy. It was like she was sent back to when she was ask you out on a date again. Except this time she was asking for your forgiveness.

She brought out her house keys, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The inside was still dimly lit so she knew you were awake, probably staying up late again. “Baby? I’m home!” Emily called out, shutting the door behind her, making sure to lock it before venturing deeper into the home. She heard shuffling from upstairs, it stopped for a moment before the sound of your footsteps made their way down. She was nervous, the smell of smoke on her clothes. It stood out from the scent of the rest of the house.

It smelt of you and your soft smelling vanilla perfume. You smiled seeing her, though the emotions in you remained conflicted. “Em, you’re home, I thought you were gonna be working late again” You chuckled lightly, nothing was funny. She messed up and you knew it, she knew it. So, why couldn’t you just go ahead and scream your feelings out. That’s what you wanted to do days ago, but not now that you see her face…you don’t feel so angry anymore.

“No, I needed to come home. I needed to see you, I’m-” Emily abruptly stopped her sentence to swallow the sound of her breaking voice, she never minded being emotional in front of you. Now, she couldn’t bear to cry in front of you. She felt she didn’t deserve to, you’re the victim here, after all. It was selfish to take that away from you. She was selfish. That’s all she had been for weeks now.

“I’m going insane, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m not alright.” She admitted it, she was scared and confused. She felt like some little kid in the corner after doing something bad and not knowing it was. She didn’t know how to cope with any of this. It was too big to do alone. She couldn’t ask you to help her, not when she’s already taken so much from you.

As Emily’s eyes began to sting, the tears pooling. Yet, she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, it wasn’t right. “You smell like smoke again, what happened this time?” You asked, brushing past her and walking into the kitchen. You fixed Emily a glass of cold water, “I messed up some case, I’m on restricted duty. The BAU is Dave’s now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She said through a shaky sigh, leaning on the kitchen island, the marble cold to the touch. You were slightly shocked that she would actually tell you, most of the time she wouldn’t tell you anything. You understood that even knowing a little bit could endanger you both so you never pressed. “Have you eaten?”

Emily crossed her arms, sniffling and looking at her with a blank expression. You knew that look, she was trying to profile you. “Emily, if you’re trying to profile me, it’s not gonna work.” You said sternly, getting the ingredients out for beef and broccoli, one of her favorites.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” she replied, biting her lip. “No, I haven’t” she added after a moment of silence. You smiled to yourself, “Good, I haven’t had dinner yet”

The silence was oddly comfortable, it gave Emily a sense of false comfort. She watched you cook as she idly played with her fingers. You could’ve called it a night ages ago and gone to bed not talking to her at all. Instead, you chose to stay and make food. You always stayed silent when you were mad, you came from a home with screaming being the norm. You hated yelling at someone out of anger, you hated it with your heart and soul. Even now if someone yells at you in anger, the tears will pool and won’t stop streaming down your face. Your breathing turns shallow and the tightness in your chest the least of your concerns.

As you finished cooking the food, the steam drifted into the air, eventually filling up the whole kitchen. Both of you quickly ate the food, silently glancing at each ofher when the other ‘wasn’t’ looking. Emily didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything.

The older woman went upstairs to change, and hopefully get a shower. It had been a few days since she’s had a good shower. One where she felt relaxed and fresh. You washed the dishes, humming to yourself as you thought about the situiation you were in. You wanted so badly to be angry with her but, there was something that kept you from feeling anything about what was happening. Your face would contort into an expression of anger but you didn’t feel it.

You completed the rest of the cleaning and headed upstairs, maybe you’d be able to get a good sleep tonight. You always slept best with Emily in bed with you, she just gave you a sense of comfort that no one else could give you.

Already in some pjs, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your body up to sit on the counter. You had grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media as you flossed with a floss pick. You heard the shower stop but you didn’t look up, too interested in a News article you read. It was an article about ‘Gold Star’. A case Emily was on, he was clearly dangerous and had already killed the spouse of one of his latest victims who was also a cop. That must’ve been why she’s been down at the office, at least, that’s what you heard from Pen.

“Damn it…” Emily muttered, pulling a silk robe over her thin pjs. Her hair was soaking wet, and her face free of makeup, she was looking for something. “Have you seen my towel?” She asked, looking at the rack then back inside the shower. You looked down and saw you were sitting on it, lifting a thigh, you grabbed it and handed it to her.

She smiled at you, drying her silver locks with the towel. Walking over to the sink, she began doing her skincare routine. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face, she looked so focused.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch her face when she finished, she looked like a supermodel in this light. I’m any light actually, she was a timeless beauty you couldn’t get enough of. That was when you felt it, the subtle shake of your hands, the sting of your eyes, the flips of your stomach, the drowning feeling, and the way you bit the inside of your cheek.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror before looking over at you with concern, your eyes filled with hurt. She hummed softly, placing a hand on yours, squeezing it as a way to ground you. “I love you, Emily Prentiss…so much that you piss me off,” You said with a hushed tone, as if you’d be scolded for speaking normally.

“I love you more, my precious girl” Emily kissed each of your knuckles, kissing up your arm as she moved to slip herself in between your legs. She eventually got up to kiss your lips, it was quick, a big dose of comfort, for Emily at least.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true…” You insisted, placing your hands on her shoulders, the robe damp from her wet hair. “You left me, for almost a whole week and a half with minimal to no contact, you didn’t even check in with me so I knew you were alive and breathing.”

Emily looked down in shame, she wished to take it all back. “I had to hold on to the hope that you were okay, and I had to get updates from the team, who you never seem to interact with anyway.” You sniffled, toying with her hair. “I know about this whole ‘Gold Star’ thing. The information went public, most of it anyway. So, please tell me what’s bothering you. Please…” You admitted, holding her face so she would look at you.

“Baby, Gold Star…he’s a dangerous man, after what happened with Don Bertoli” she paused, wiping her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She’s been doing that often now, you noticed since she was always comfortable crying around you. “I couldn’t handle you living in fear, I couldn’t handle us living in fear. A part of it was because I was so focused on this case, I hardly thought about anything else other than the case, and you. I know that sounds weird but, every decision I made was made because I thought I could protect you.” She kissed your palm, looking at you with the same adoration and love she had been for years, “If Don, this big muscular man, can’t stop him from killing his wife. How can I stop him?” She sobbed, hugging you close.

“Ever since this case even started, I changed so much. I hate it. I let a serial killer out of his cage to work among profilers like he meant something. I kept a secret from JJ that I shouldn’t have, I ruled over my team like a tyrant instead of working with them. I’m…turning into my mother, just like I thought I would. But the only question I have is…why haven’t you left me yet?” Emily sniffled, tears stains on your sleep attire. You pulled away from the hug and held her head, wiping away the tears with your thumbs.

She looked so fragile, like could crack of you touched her. You rarely saw her break, Emily was always the strong one even in the relationship. She took pride in opening jars, carrying bags, doing any sort of lifting. She also compartmentalized like her life depended on it because it kind of did.

”You are not going to be like your mother, you are my wonderful, amazing, ambitious, smart, hilarious, stunning, annoying wife. You’re my everything in one and I love you for it. I haven’t left you because I made a very important promise to be yours forever. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. Also, last time I checked, you have the most awesome team. So, if you fess up and take responsibility, they’ll accept you. Remember that you have to earn that trust back but, I know you care.” Emily let out a choked sob, she loved you more than anything. What did she do to deserve you?

“When you were gone that long, I didn’t mind that much. Until you stopped texting me back, I didn’t hear from you for days. I panicked, thinking you were mad and I spiraled, every possible out come in my head played out beside for this” You said, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“What I mean is, I’m not going to tell you that this was okay, what I am gonna tell you is that I love you despite what happened.” You pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, she was hurting, you could tell from her face and mannerisms. You felt like you had spent a whole lifetime memorizing everything about her. Sometimes, it scared you. You knew things about her that even her team didn’t know, for you knew they’d never know.

With that, Emily burst into tears, hugging you tightly, pulling you as close to her as she could.

You’ve missed her dearly, nothing in existence or nonexistent could keep you from loving her. You feel every emotion at once yet none could rival the pure love you felt for the woman. She’s gone through hell & earth to have you. Now, you were ready to do the same for her.

She’s saved you from a maniac serial killer once, the least you could do was be here when you needed her. You knew she’d return the favor, you preferred to have her be alright before returning anything. After all, you taught middle schoolers for a living, you had your moments but thankfully there was never anything much.

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry” She sobbed, her head buried in between the crevice between your neck and shoulder. Her body slotted so perfectly with yours that you were convinced she was made for you. “I forgive you, always”

You felt her arms tighten around you, she sniffled looking up into your eyes. Pressing a kiss to your lips, she played with your hair, twirling it between her fingers.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the future, she was unsure of a lot of things. One thing was certain, that you were hers, and she was yours. She’d find a way to cross realities if it meant being with you.

As the night went on, both felt as though they could stay their forever. Intertwined. Sewn together. Forevermore.

—————

UHM. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.

This is a nice appetizer for all the fics I’m about to serve to you guysssss. I hope you enjoyed restricted duty Emily :)

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

------------

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

[dollarstorefern]

ok, so i’ve been thinking about the whole food/love symbolism in house, (i’m not sure who the first person to mention this symbolism was, but i love them so much. if anyone knows please mention them!!!) and there's one more specific element that i want to overanalyze, so just bear with me for a moment; there were four people that directly interacted with house when he was cooking in wilson's apartment (episode 3 season 6): cuddy, thirteen, wilson, and a random lady from the cooking class house and wilson took together. and i feel like these four best represent how house's love is spread. just hear me out for a second you guys.

first, you have cuddy. she comes to house and he happens be cooking; however, she never tastes the food he’s preparing. they love each other, he has love FOR her, but it's never the right time for them. (house and cuddy have such an insane and doomed relationship that i don’t think i quite understand myself tbh).

for the random lady, she's cooking *with* house when cuddy is there. this one isn’t as clean/sensible as the others, but i’m sure at least one person will get what i’m trying to say or be able to word this better. house has a certain level of understanding and care for others/strangers, but on a very grudging level. his love isn't necessarily made just for them, they'll never know the depth or spontaneity of it, and they'll never know what it means like the people close to house do.

with wilson, wilson wakes up to house cooking. house shoves the food in wilson's face, not listening to a word that wilson has to say. and wilson just goes with it! and i believe that it’s around here that house admits that he stayed up all night cooking because he was in pain, but i could be wrong. if that is the case though, that just ties into the whole idea that all of house’s strongest emotions are directly tied to his pain, all of his actions are fueled by his pain, which makes his love even more insane if you think about it. (i wish i was as eloquent as some of the other house fans on here when talking about this stuff but i only ever think about it when half-awake).

and lastly, there's thirteen. she visits house to ask for advice. and you see how precise he's being with the cooking. i don’t remember quite what he was making, something to do with chicken embryos or yolks, and extracting some of the yolk to squeeze sauce in there, something along those lines. pretty precise stuff. and thirteen tries it and says that it's the best thing she's ever eaten. quick and positive interaction.

so. we only see *two* people eat his food in this episode. two people who know what his love is like: wilson, the man that house depends on to even exist, and thirteen, basically the only character that (at this point in the show) has a chance of understanding house’s suffering, to some degree (house dreading the pain that comes with simply existing, knowing each day will be filled with pain, thirteen dreading every day, knowing that her huntingtons can only get worse and one day she’ll lose control).

also, this isn’t to say that house doesn’t/hasn’t loved other characters!!! i personally just feel like the relationships he has with wilson, cuddy, and thirteen are some of the most significant on screen relationships we see. (maybe i’m a bit biased because i adore wilson and thirteen, but we’ll ignore that).

anyways. all of this was likely just coincidence, but i don’t quite care! it’s the coincidences that make for the most meaningful portrayal of characters, in my humble (questionable) opinion!

[jandthecrow]

Friends Right?

König x Unaware!Reader (18+)

SUMMARY: This is what friends do right? Think about each other all the time, go out of their way to see each other. You’re just friends right?

Not proofread - I’ll look for typos and adjust it later

CW: Fluff, slow burn, falling in love reader, unaware reader, un-gendered reader, a little bit of smut, gentle!könig

It starts in autumn, (as do all things good in life) at first just little touches here and there, advice given more gently then usual - at least for him, lingering conversations between you two sit in the back of your mind.

You don’t realize it at first just thinking you’ve gone down with something, the doc tells you you’re in good health. You don’t understand at first what’s happening, thinking of him when you’re apart, wanting to make extra lunch just in case he forgot to make his - something he does quite often. Wanting to be around him more, to look your best around him. Going out of your way to see him, even being late to events just to get a few more minutes of time with him, even if you’re not necessarily interacting.

You think that maybe he might be YOUR best friend (definitely not his), growing up as a lonely child you never really had friends before. This is how friends act you think as you leave little snacks on his desk, as you touch yourself thinking of him. His sweet name on your lips as you cum, imagining his hands on you - touching you, kissing you, holding you.

This is what friends do you think as you offer to help him with mechanical work on his truck, when you end up kissing him, end up in his bed as he moans your name like a prayer, when he whispers words of love in your ear as he makes you cum first. You wake in the morning to breakfast in bed - this is what friends do right?

When you make a joke about being friends as he sets the food in front of you, he looks at you like you’re crazy. It takes you a full minute to realize this isn’t what friends do at all. This is what lovers do - or at least two people who are interested in each other. You panic, quickly dressing and leaving him in the dust when he heads to the bathroom.

König catches you on your way out, confused at your sudden departure until he sees the panic in your eyes. He whispers words of affirmation as he sits you down on his couch, passing you a hot mug of coffee. Making you talk about your feelings with him, helping you realize them.

It isn’t until lunch comes around you’re more relaxed, when he refuses to let you help with the chicken noodle soup. Makes you sit and do nothing so he can glance at you every few minutes loving the view. He gives you the bowl with a chaste kiss to the forehead, he doesn’t wear a mask. No need considering you’ve seen his body and he’s seen yours.

For the next few weeks he lingers around you, showering you with affection and taking you on dates. It’s only then he realizes how unaware you are when it comes to love when someone tries to hit on you as the man pays for your coffee (and König’s unknowingly).

“Hey, I’m Jacob. I thought you were cute here’s my number. Call me sometime yeah?”

“Um okay?”

You toss it in the trash absentmindedly a few minutes later when the guy walked away. König just smiles to himself at that and squeezes your thigh as he drives you both to work. Knowing that you would never cheat on him, never get the hints people left in conversation alluding to an interest in you.

No, you would be his as long as he treated you good and kept you happy.

[certifiedsexed]

hi there! this isn’t about sex itself, but since periods are usually a part of sex ed and i’ve literally just been woken up because the cramps were bad enough, i thought i would ask — is it normal to be in a lot of pain when you’re on your period?

context: i still live with my abusive parents, who don’t let me take any kind of pain medication after a suicide attempt at thirteen, so i know that this problem might just be that i need to take a strong painkiller. also the pain doesn’t ever last more than three days? like the first three days (and sometimes the days leading up to it) of my period are always hell but then it’s fine, i have no pain afterwards.

but the problem is that the pain is… bad. like being woken up in the middle of the night because my sides hurt and my legs hurt isn’t uncommon, and there’s this weird thing where i’m scared to use the toilet during these first three days because it makes my butt and my sides hurt so much that i genuinely can’t move and have to bite myself to stop myself from screaming. sometimes i’ll be in so much pain, usually in my sides but also sometimes in my stomach or legs or my butt, that i can’t even move, so i just kind of… have to lie pressed into my bed and hold my breath.

my mother has always just told me that she had worse pain when she still used to get her period, and that i’d be completely fine if i just listened to her and used a hot water bottle (i have poor circulation, so hot/cold stuff just doesn’t really feel great for me usually), and i’ve always just kind of accepted that. i know it’s common for people who get periods to talk about how painful things like cramps are, but i genuinely usually feel so miserable for the first couple days of my period that if i don’t need to get out my bed, i literally won’t at all.

i’m just wondering… is everyone who gets periods in as much pain as i usually am, at least for the first couple days? or, since i know that people experience periods differently, are people in more/less pain than i am but it’s fine since this isn’t that bad and i should just take medication each month for it? idk, but ever since i started to get periods they’ve genuinely always made me feel so so bleak and in agony, and i’m someone i’d consider who has a maybe above ‘average’ pain tolerance (i have chronic back pain, migraines, and health issues that make it easy for me to sprain/fracture my ankles which i’ve unironically managed to do about eight times in the past two years — again, unfortunately all of this with mostly no painkillers unless i can get them from the school first aid box), so i just… don’t know anymore, but i thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.

anyways, unrelated but i really do love this blog — the reblogs are always good things to read as someone who’s still unpacking being raised by very puritanical parents, and the asks always offer good advice too, very empathetically in a way that sometimes catches me off guard (there was one post on here that was something about how the asker’s father would belittle them and i think your reply said something like ‘it’s not your fault and nothing’s wrong with that aspect of you’… which i know sounds obvious but that was something that i don’t think had ever been obvious to me ever since my father started doing the same when i was younger. it was really comforting to hear, is what i mean, and your replies often are. so thank you for that! and for the time + energy i can imagine it takes to run this, you post/rb so often!)

Hi! This is absolutely a sex ed question, you're right!

So, first, let me make one thing clear: no! You are not supposed to be in this level of pain on your period. Some pain is understandable but once it gets to the point it's bad/debilitating in Any fashion, something is going wrong.

But I also want to say, being in an abusive living situation can fuck up your periods. And so can being restricted from pain relief, which-just in case you're not aware-is another type of abuse.

But what you're talking about sounds like more than just a lack of basic pain relief. That's very disabling, even if it doesn't last long. It may be that intense reactions to periods run in your family [especially since your mother mentioned experiencing something similar] but that's still something you should be getting something like specialized pain meds for or even stopping your periods altogether.

What you're talking about, especially on top of an abusive living situation, is very unhealthy for you to have to deal with.

Not everyone is in that much pain. Some people are but that's a medical condition. It's a disability! What you're talking about is a disability. It can be caused by PMS or endometriosis or PMDD or it could even be connected to whatever causes your other chronic pain but it's still very much something your parents should be getting you checked out for.

Even if your mother had the exact same pain on her period, that doesn't mean you should have to suffer through it, especially not with her revoking your access to basic pain relief. That's all completely unacceptable and I'm sorry you're having to deal with this.

I'm not sure how helpful this is but I hope it's at least good to know the pain levels you're dealing with are unacceptable and Not "normal" period pain.

Also I'm so glad you're learning and enjoying the blog, especially the advice. I also grew up in an abusive household so to hear it's helping someone else in a similar situation means the world to me, fr. 💕 Sending love, Anon. <3

[ourmadmusings]

a/n: bc anon asked for a part three, and im super cheesed about it. I wasn’t gonna post it until tomorrow, but what can I say, im a generous god. 

Take me far enough to say we’ve gone - 

Miguel O’Hara was also a nervous man, as it turned out. He was nervous for you, afraid of what the light in his chest had to offer when he saw you return from a successful trail-run. His bluff was called, it seemed, and you passed with flying colors, earning a wide smile from Peter B. as he dropped you off, once again in O’Hara’s main quarters. The heavy glow from all of his screens casts him in an ever-intimidating light, that seems to be his theme with you. Scary.  He’d watched you with rapt attention on your little assignment, not sure why he’d anticipated the worst to happen to you - worst-case was Peter stepped in and bailed you out, but he’d informed Miguel that he hadn’t even needed to give any advice, a silent watcher, only coming down from his perch on a near building to show you how to activate the force-field device and ring in for a transfer.  “Well, looks like you’ve earned a permanent position amongst our ranks, huh?” He’s mumbling a little, he seems a little deflated as he says it. “Isn’t that a good thing?” You’re raising a brow behind your ever-present mask, nary a ding on your suit. He can tell how much confidence the mission had given you, your shoulders not tilting inwards like they had the last few times he’d loomed over you. Your back was straight, and your hands pressed firmly on your hips in the shared stance every spider-person adopts when they know they’ve done well.  “Of course it is, but these missions aren’t always gonna be so easy, kid.” He mirrors you, standing up straight, leaning down slightly to make his point, “there’s gonna be a mission for each of us that we can’t come back from, you know that, right?” It’s almost threatening, the way his red eyes bore into your white eye-covers. He watches your chest deflate a little at the comment, a pang of remorse runs through him for saying it in such a harsh way. Truly, he just wanted you to be aware of the risks here, the sacrifice that you may be called to make one day. Each of them was expected to lay their life down for the greater good, and he wasn’t exempt from that, either. In his mind, he was offering you an out, a second chance to save your own hide if that’s what you really wanted, before taking on such a lofty responsibility. You jump a little when you hear the door slide open behind you, “jeez, Miguel, as pleasant as ever, aren’t’ya?” It’s the Peter that came with you, “Mayday is asleep-” who? “-Why d’ya always try to scare the new kids, don’t you think she’s proved herself enough?” He looks at you with a warm smile, the kind a father would wear as their kid rounded home for the first time, “I think you killed it, kiddo, don’t let him take the wind from yer sails. I was impressed,” you feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant praise and mumble a sweet thank-you, absent-mindedly kicking a pretend pebble as he claps a warm hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, “why don’t you take your mask off and breathe a little, huh? It must feel terrible in there after the long day,” you can tell he’s being genuine when he asks, bending down to stare right into your mask with a slight tilt of the head, but you can’t help the itch on your forehead when the mask isn’t there, especially thinking about having to make direct eye contact with O’Hara.  He cuts in, “she says she’s more comfortable with it on, Peter.”  “Well, that sounds like a lie, she’s probably just terrified of you, chief. Especially when you go around making threats like that on a debrief.” They carry on like you’re not standing right there. “It’s not my fault if I want them to be aware of the risks, Pete.” How informal of him, using a pet-name, you think. “Yeah, well, the least you can do is thank’em for once. Not everything has to be so life and death. It’s no wonder our turnover is so bad, I have to wonder what our unemployment payout looks like.” They’re not stopping, you really consider making a quick escape while the two men, obviously very good friends based on Peter’s razzing, carry on talking over your head.  “I want to think you’re joking but-” “Tax fraud is no joke, ‘El, you know that.”  You’re…Uncomfortable now, he was right, your mask was kind of stifling after working so hard to have a no-loss mission, there’s still sweat dripping down the back of your neck as the two of them chirp on and on, back and forth. The heat from all the monitors has your vision swimming a little and you start to get a light headed trying to keep up, eventually heaving a heavy sigh of your own. A small, shaking hand makes quick work as you tilt your head down, hair messy as you shake your head, finally getting a good breath of fresh air from outside your protection. Both men stop mid-sentence and stare.  Peter is the first to speak up, not missing a beat but teasing as ever, “there she is, as pretty as ever,” he’s smiling-still. “Feels better, right? Don’t worry about it, we all know how to keep a secret kid, you’re safe here, with us.”  O’Hara just lets a heavy breath fall from his nose and turns away from the two of you, “I have work to finish, Peter, can you get some food for the two of you, please? Consider it a celebration, since you’re so keen on rewarding everyone for just doing their damn job.”  Peter mumbles something as he steps behind you, guiding you with hands on your shoulders, pushing you a little from your spot in the middle, “yeah, yeah, come on.” His head snakes around to smile at you again, “not to brag, but the food here is amazing.” 

It’s quiet after you leave and let the door slide shut, Miguel takes a shaky breath in, and out. He couldn’t help the pang of...jealously? Remorse, maybe, that he couldn’t be the one to tell you that you were safe with them, reassure you, tease you the way Peter was so confident in doing. The way your rosy cheeks looked so pretty, like Pete had said, plays over in his head time and time again for much longer than he’s proud of. He wanted you to know you were safe with him. At the end of it all, he wanted to make sure you were safe.  He’d seen you on his monitors for weeks before calling you to help them, walking around your New York in your street clothes. When Jess had caught him staring at you with such a heavy scowl, he’d said he just wanted to make sure you were keeping it above the wire, doing his due diligence to make sure he wasn’t hiring some loose-lipped kid. She only smiled at her feet, seeing right through his little lie. 

He was even more curt with you after you became comfortable enough to venture the halls without your mask, usually late at night when you knew less folks were around, but pluck his eyes from his skull before he admitted to the dull ache his ability to give you comfort enough to be maskless gave. He really did try to be more inviting with you, even briefly considering taking you on a more risky mission with himself and Jess. Of course, the anxiety that bubbled dashed any hope of one-on-one time in the field. He’d ask you about your canon events, trying to find a way to connect with you. However tight-lipped he was, you were moreso. Mumbling a quiet affirmative or negative, then steering the conversation back to work, against his best efforts. He thought it must feel that way with him, sometimes, when folks try to talk with him. He found himself missing your wry jokes, not as jovial as the run-of-the-mill spider, still keeping a shred perspective on your life of sacrifice. He, of course, knew all of your canon events, he could lay them out by dates and times if he wanted, he’d spent more time than he’d ever admit to on his little…Obsession with you.  It worried him, how fond of your company he’d become in the short time you were helping him. He was really trying to connect, honestly, but every time it felt like he was putting his hand on a hot-plate, and every time he was reminded of what his job meant - sacrifice. And God himself couldn’t convince him of the idea of sacrificing you for this chosen life.  He, as a result, decided to pull back. Treat this as a little passing fancy, maybe you just reminded him of being young again, careless, caution to the wind and so on. 

Months trickled by, trying his best to get you to smile at him despite his resolve to let it all go, to hear your laugh at least once was all he needed to get through his day, it seemed. He was embarrassed, in all reality, he was still technically your boss, no matter how informal that seemed in the walls of the citadel.  “-well, at least that’s what I thought, but Hobie said she was quite the up-and-comer.” He tried to listen to you, but the way you licked your lips made his skin tingle, “I may swing by and meet her, he seems super excited.” You’re leaning over his desk while you talk, Miguel had lost the plot, though. “As excited as someone like him can be, y’know.” “Yeah, send out the welcome wagon, no?” He smiles a little, typing away at some code that needed fixing.  “Ha - well, it’s not like you’re one to do it, you’ll scare her off like a wolf would a hare.” You’re staring at the screen when his fingers stop, hovering over the keys like he’d lost his train of thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to face you, eyeing you with a heavy scrutiny, as he was wont to do. “No, nothing bad, I guess. You’re just so dramatic sometimes, it’s weird until you get to know ya’.” There’s a chuckle hidden between the words spilling from your mouth, he wonders if you realize how much he loves when you tease him. It makes him feel more human, less isolated.  “I’m just making sure they all kn-”  “-All know the risks involved, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I think you’re just pretending so no one knows you’re a big softy.” His fingers haven't moved from above the keys. He leans back in his chair, his straight back finally relaxing a little, “and where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like that, kid?” There’s a stark lack of actual annoyance in his voice, a few months ago, you’d think he was actually offended you’d speak to him that way, but the keen look in his red eyes betrays him these days. “I think Peter is starting to rub off on you.” You laugh a little and smack his shoulder, “someone’s gotta keep you in check around here, right? He can’t shoulder all the burden of your grumpy ass!” You’re smiling down at him, having moved at some point to lean closer. He feels the tips of his ears heat up a little.  “Yeah, well, tell anyone and I’ll have to do somethin’ about it, kid.” You’re a little surprised at him, in the best way. He’s got a full smile, just like the one he wore when you told him about the dryer sheet below your mask, your cheeks heat up and you move to hop off the platform, “hey” a finger pokes at his shoulder -  “don’t start writin’ checks there, boss, or I’ll have to ask you to cash’em some day.” You don’t turn around to face him as you continue, “it’s our secret, I guess. For now, at least.” You pull your mask back over your head as you walk out the heavy door.

He groans a little as the door slides shut, leaving him in the soft hum of all of his monitors - he doesn’t finish the line of code before he shoves himself away from his desk and starts the long trek back to his own private room for the night.

a/n: big man said feelings are for dummys. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 4-

[snakeautistic]

Some of the most common advice you get when you express social anxiety is the following “don’t worry- no one will notice if you make a mistake (or they’ll forget it soon after) everyone is more focused on themselves.”

And this makes me so. Fucking. Annoyed. It is true that people probably won’t think much of/ forget a lone social faux pas made or awkward thing you did. But what they remember is patterns of behavior. So if you’re like me, unable to pick up on many social cues and prone to these same mistakes- people will make note of that. They will have an idea of you in their head as someone who is awkward, as simple as that.

Secondly the part about everyone being more focused on themselves. Obviously people can be pretty self-centered- I think that’s normal. And they’re probably insecure too. But we’re also social animals with social hierarchies. People pay attention to the behavior of those around them- maybe ESPECIALLY if they’re insecure, in fact. In order to see where they stand- whether they’re doing it, and whether the people around them are behaving correctly. Many of our societal norms and expectations are designed as a way to weed out people who either are unable to or choose not to follow them.

That’s not to say we don’t often distort the percieved perseptions of others. With an anxiety disorder, fear over been seen as ‘weird’ may lead to you behaving more abnormally than you would have initially. It might lead to you reading too much into the reactions of others. This is all very common and is of course the issue the above advice seeks to address- distortions of how your actions reflect on you socially. But that doesn’t change the fact that the advice that “no one cares what you do actually” is just… wrong, or highly flawed at the very least.

I personally have a very hard time benefiting from advice that I know isn’t entirely true. It’s also super dismissive of people who may actually be struggling socially- perhaps due to an underlying issue- (in my case, autism), if any time they notice “hey, I think I’m being judged” it’s chocked up to pure anxiety. Also, I feel firmly that it’s better to learn to be less bothered by negative perceptions than to believe they don’t exist at all. That way you don’t have to worry so much if you’re overthinking it or not- you just know not to be concerned in the first place. Obviously that is… much easier said than done. But I think it’s a better goal to have

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 5

WC:1109 Masterpost CW: Hostage Situation, Off Screen Gun Violence, Blood, Minor Injury

Danny winced as Flash pressed the little wad of gauze against the forehead wound, making the younger hero pout in sympathy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It really was. Gashes like that just hurt.

After the villain of the day had been taken out, Flash has basically teleported to Danny’s side wanting to help out. Danny’s kit could easily handle a minor head wound, but they were a pain to try and deal with on one’s own so Danny figured there was no harm in it. Flash had to have experience from patching up plenty of his own wounds. Besides, it let the medics swarming on site now that the hostage situation was over focus on the civilians.

Flash set a fresh piece of gauze against the wound. “So, want to tell me what was going through that busted head of yours when you stood up to armed robbers?”

“It was Captain Cold,” Danny said like that explained everything. At Flash’s frown Danny sighed and explained. “Everyone knows he has a code of honor. Traditionally, Medics are non combatants and should always be allowed to act. I figured my chances were pretty good.”

“They smashed you in the head with a gun.”

“Yeah,” Danny said with a little shrug. He figured he could move now that the gauze was safely secured with two bits of medical tape. “But that was one of Captain Cold’s henches and Cold almost shot him for it. I was fine after.”

“Dude.”

“Dude, she might have died if I didn’t act. Saving her was worth a little bleeding on my part.”

Flash opened his mouth to say something back to that, but snapped it shut as Danny jutted a finger at him.

“And don’t you dare tell me I’m just a civilian or something like that; I’m a field medic.”

Flash held up his hands. He looked a little ridiculous with the nitrile gloves over his super suit. “Wasn’t going to! In fact, I was going to say that you’re really brave.”

“Oh,” Danny said, deflating. He wasn’t used to anyone taking his job and what it meant seriously. Bashfully, he lowered his accusatory finger and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Um, thank you?”

“You’re really bad at taking a compliment, aren’t you?” Flash asked, grinning at him.

Oh he was definitely blushing now. He ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck as he mumbled, “Guess I’m not used to them.”

Danny was saved from any response Flash might have to his confession by a coworker approaching them. Danny recognized the red hair and ignored the flash of melancholy that always came with seeing it.

“So Mr. Fenton, going to behave for me?” Laura asked with a little smile, snapping on fresh gloves as she stepped up to him.

“I think I can manage. Flash has already done a good job patching me up,” he said, letting her tilt his head this way and that. “Gash to the right temp from blunt force trauma with a gun. I’m sure I’ll have quite a bruise, maybe even a black eye. Mild concision—”

“Follow my finger.”

“—no lost of consciousness or memory issues but I have a headache, mild nausea, and a bit of brain fog.”

“Tracking isn’t bad. Repeat after me: penguin, lemon, pillow, bottle, mouse.”

“Penguin, lemon, pillow, bottle, mouse,” Danny repeated dutifully.

“You know the drill?”

He didn’t roll his eyes because he was a professional. (And because it would hurt.) “Yep. Nothing strenuously mentally or physically for a few days. Avoid screens for at least the first twenty-four hours.”

“And no being alone for those twenty-four hours in case it’s worse than mild,” Laura reminded him, a pointed brow raised.

Danny gave an acknowledging hum. He wasn’t going to listen to that advice, but he acknowledged it.

Laura snapped off her gloves, folding them in on themselves with practiced ease. “You did good today, Danny, so try to actually take it easy, alright?”

He gave her a wane smile “I’ll try. If anyone hears anything—”

“Everyone knows to let you know she makes it out of surgery.”

It was bending the rules a little, but sometimes they just needed to know that a person they helped save made it. He was glad they all got this was one of those people for Danny. “Thanks.”

“Rest, I mean it Danny,” Laura said with a purposeful point as she walked away.

Danny turned away from her to find Flash watching him with a little frown. “What?”

“You don’t have anyone to watch you, do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny said as he packed up his little medkit.

“You totally don’t!” Flash said, looking way too pleased at himself for figuring that out.

Danny sighed and swung his bag up onto his shoulder. “Okay, no, I don’t. But Laura is just being overly cautious. I can tell this is mild and I really will rest, no mater what she thinks.”

As Danny started to walk out of the bank, Flash kept pace, walking backwards in front of him. “But it could be worse.”

“But it’s not.”

“But it could be. And what sort of hero would I be if I let the hero of the hour be in danger?”

Ugh, heroes. Was he ever that insufferable?

“Flash, that’s… sweet of you, but you really, really can’t want to be in your suit for twenty-four hours.”

He just shrugged. “Then I won’t. I only need to keep the mask on. I can totally run home and back with a change of clothing in seconds, dude. And it gives me time to let— I mean, grab my phone. And food! I can totally grab food! You’ve been dealing with this for hours, you have to be hungry. Do you like pizza? What am I saying, everyone likes pizza. I’ll grab pizza! I know a great place that does these really cool topping combos, you’ll love it. What do you like?”

Danny found the corner of his mouth ticking up despite himself. “Yeah, Flash, I like pizza. Surprise me.”

“You’re agreeing then?” Flash said, bouncing on his toes before rushing around Danny in a dizzying circle to stand next to him again but now walking the right way. “Awesome! We’ll get you home first and then I’ll get all the other stuff. I’d carry you, but I don’t think your head would like that.”

“No, I really don’t think it would,” Danny agreed. The Speed Force still felt weird as fuck and Danny was okay not spending any more time in it then he needed to. He’d leave the rushing around to the Flashes.

-----

AN: Wally, vibrating: I can so read the cute medic!

What do you all think? Should we see some of the totally not a sleepover? If so... screens are out, so what should those two get up to? (And no, not that.)

I no longer tag people due to the new post editor and having been shadow banned! Instead, you can subscribe to this post here to be notified!

[olderthannetfic]

This is partly a vent and partly hoping someone reading this can offer some advice or at least insight into wtf the person/people doing this are hoping to accomplish.

Over the past few months, someone(s) has been sending purity policing “concerned” anon asks to people in my fandom, mostly about supposed untagged triggering content. Which sounds like standard anti bullshit at first glance, but there are some really weird aspects to this situation, and I don’t know what to make of it.

First, in both of the cases I’ve seen, the “untagged” content Concerned Anon complained about was comprehensively tagged, way beyond fandom norms. Concerned Anon is complaining about something that isn’t even true.

Second, the people who received these asks seem to me like really weird targets for anon harassment. From what I’ve seen, they’re both really nice people. Not in the Cult of Nice way, but in the welcoming to newcomers, supporting all shippers even the people who ship things they’re not into, willing to chat about even the most wild theory or headcanon you might have without judgment kind of nice. Good stewards of fandom, I guess is what I’m trying to say. So I don’t get why anyone would want to target them. Especially since one of them wasn’t even being harassed about their own work, but about a fic someone else wrote that they happen to like!

Third, if the source material for this fandom were a fic on AO3, it would easily meet the threshold for all archive warnings. This isn’t about Stephen King fandom, but it’s got that level of things antis lose their shit over. Why is Concerned Anon even in this fandom? Why are they ~*so concerned*~ over fic when canon is like that?

Since the first Concerned Anon ask, I’ve noticed a sharp drop-off not just in ~*problematic*~ fic, but in fic in the fandom in general. I know fandom engagement comes and goes and there could be a lot of reasons for that unrelated to Concerned Anon. I can even think of a couple specific reasons it would be happening in this fandom. But the timing rubs me the wrong way, especially since it doesn’t seem like there’s as much a of a drop-off in general fandom activity, and I’m worried the latest set of Concerned Anon asks will have an even more chilling effect on fic writers.

I hate that this is happening. I hate that people who are just out here making fandom fun are being targeted. I hate that it might be discouraging people who haven’t been targeted from writing. I hate the possibility that Concerned Anon is out there harassing other people in the fandom who haven’t responded to them or that I just haven’t seen. I hate that, as a complete fandom nobody, I probably have no power to do anything about this. I hate that the person or people behind Concerned Anon probably aren’t even going to have to face up to being this kind of shitty, because it’s all anonymous.

--

People pop up in the inboxes where the owner can get their comments in front of more eyeballs.

Of course they want to poison the blogs of the welcoming fans who get the newbies writing fic.

The way to combat them is for those bigger blogs to either ignore them entirely or to politely but firmly tell them where they can shove it while pointing out that they're a liar.

They're a toxic blight on other people's inspiration, and the "nice" blogs should tell them so. The failure to do so is going to have at least as much of a chilling effect as their shitty comments themselves.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Mr. and Ms. Piastri 

summary: Y/n Piastri and Oscar Piastri have been hiding things in the relationship, so they go to couples therapy. Based on the movie Mr. and Ms. Smith

pairings: oscar piastri x Wife!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language. Also this story will be several parts. Hope you enjoy!

The sound of Oscar obnoxiously chewing his gum bounced against the walls making Y/n grip on the leather chair sending a forced smile towards him and their  therapist. They had debated several times about doing this. Both of them had created such a tall wall around themselves not letting anyone through, not even each other. Adding a third person in their life was something neither of them expected when they got married. But it was their last resort. But adding another person just builds up the facade they had in their relationship. 

Couples counseling. 

The only “date” they were forced to have with another person, in this case their therapist.

She thought of a coherent sentence  to describe their relationship without insulting him right then and there. The intention wasn’t to ruin their relationship, even though at this point it was to the point where they were desperate for something to save it. She couldn’t lie, she loved him, she loved him with all her heart. But as the years passed the only thing somewhat stable in their relationship was the dinner they always had at seven pm.

After six years of marriage, their relationship had turned monotone and nothing excited the pair. They used to be spontaneous, both of them love traveling but now they found themselves invested more in their work than in their relationship. Now the only quality time they spent together was eating dinner in silence with the occasional critique of her food from her husband.

It’s not that they wanted their marriage to fall apart. At least on behalf of Y/n’s she wanted her relationship to succeed. She was a perfectionist and her marriage wasn’t going to ruin her streak. She had worked a lot for her marriage to be perfect, everything in her head was calculated to the max to make the relationship as good as the books in couples counseling.

They had tried everything, taking advice from their friends, reading “how to fix your unfixable marriage” articles. So that’s when they decided to get help from professionals and do couple’s counseling. The Verstappen family from next door had claimed that the therapist had worked wonders for their relationship, so why not try it?

“I wanted to start with the fact that we don’t have to be here, right Jane?” Oscar tapping his wife’s shoulder forcing a smile her way.

“Yes, John. It’s a funny story actually” she replied, forcing a chuckle subtly moving her shoulder to take Oscar's hands off. He quickly took the hint resting each of his hands on the arms of the leather chair he was sitting on anxiously tapping it.

“We were at a charity event, specifically a charity auction slash race viewing” Oscar started while looking at his wife for her to continue.

“Our friends the Sainz. They live across the street”

“Anyways the grand lot was…”

“A mystery lot” both continued in unison with a pained expression covering their faces.

“I had sunk a few, wasn’t driving so I started bidding” Oscar said, pinching his nose knowing where this conversation was heading.

“John, here is a tiny bit competitive,” She replied, tapping his thigh while forcing a smile. Oscar bites his tongue trying to avoid saying  anything  he will regret later.

“As I was saying, the upshot is we end up blowing four hundred bucks on the mystery lot”

“we? I think we, is a lot of people, honey. Don’t lie to Dr. Wexler”

“The important thing here is that we won four sessions with Dr. Wexler!” Oscar clapped back with fake joy wishing to be anywhere else but here.

“The Sainz have a great humor.” Y/n said sincerely laughing this time followed by Oscar laughing as well with her.

“But…you didn’t have to come” Dr. Wexler said finally breaking his silence. He looked up from his notes scanning the couple as if he was looking for every single flaw in their relationship.

“Right” Oscar replied, his once happy demeanor changing abruptly into an awkward one.

“Absolutely, but we as a couple strongly believe in a theory” Y/n said still smiling at the Dr., quickly reaching for Oscar hand and intertwining their hand together.

“we do?”

“of course we do silly, the oil check”

“Right! The oil check. See we’ve been married for five years…”

“six.”

“Five, six years, and this is like a check up for us. Pop the hood, nose around, change the oil, maybe replace a seal or two. Who knows, a lot of things could happen”

“Okay, then. For this so-called “oil check” I'm going to ask some questions. On a scale from one to ten how happy are you as a couple?” Dr. Wexler replied, pushing up his glasses and taking an attentive look towards the pair analyzing their body language.

“eight”

“wait, so like ten being perfectly happy and one being…totally utterly miserable?”

“Just respond instinctively, John” Dr. Wexler answered, wanting for his reaction.

“Ok. Ready?”

“Ready”

“Eight.” The couple replied at the same time with a proud smile adorning each of their lips.

“Next question, on a scale of one to ten how happy would you say your partner is?” The doctor continues his question this time reading from his notes.

“eight.”

“wait. are we allowed fractions?” Y/n asked with a slight smirk staring to see the fun in this session, even if this session could be the end of their relationship.

“it’s what’s instinctive”

“well then, i’m all set. Are you all set, John?”

“one, two, three…”

“eight.”

“Okay, well i’m seeing repetition here. So let me ask a different question, how often do you have sex?”

“ i don’t understand the question” y/n fakes confusion as she rests her chin on her hand.

“wait. okay, i’m lost. Is this a one to ten thing?”

“Right. I mean, because if it is, does “one” equal “not much” or “one”, like, nothing. Because strictly speaking zero should be nothing”

“Exactly. Plus, if we don’t know what one is, what’s “ten”?” Oscar continues trying to test the doctor's patience.

“Right…is ten…you know”

“constant and unrelenting…”

“…twenty for seven…without a break. For anything”

“not even to eat”

“like sting”

“Exactly. Look at Sting’s day job. Who else has sixty hours a week to put aside in the sack”

“This is not a one to ten scenario. It’s a  straight question, how often do you guys have sex”

Oscar didn’t want to be a pain in the ass. He loved his wife dearly, he would do anything for her. Even go on a pointless couples therapy session knowing that it was going to do nothing. He was certain that with her there wasn’t a margin for error. Everything was calculated and no risks were involved, that’s what brought their relationship into the position where they currently stood.

“Are you guys completely honest with each other?”

In the back of her head Y/n thought that there could be a tiny possibility that her job was what made their relationship the way it was. Maybe it was the constant lying or the adrenaline rush that her job gave her that their relationship lacked. She knew Oscar, and she knew him well and as much as she wanted to deny it, Oscar brought her the “normal” things to her life. But she was gripping onto that to make their relationship last. She just hoped that this couple counseling will heal whatever they were going through. 

[bebx]

random don’ts in fanfic writing!

a disclaimer that these are just some suggestions from a fellow fic writer & you don’t have to agree with everything I list here. the intention of this isn’t to shame anyone but to only offer advices I personally take.

I hope you’ll find at least one of these useful.

don’t go “the taller man looks at her with a smile on his face” or “the blonde girl laughs, feeling his eyes on her” on characters whose names are already known by the readers. I admit that this is something I used to do for so long because I thought it was cool, until I learned it’s just unrealistic, because normally, if you know someone; say, if they’re your friend, you don’t call them “the taller man” or “the blonde girl” or “the older man”, you call them by their names. so unless your readers aren’t supposed to know the names of these characters yet, just say “Justin looks at her with a smile on his face” or “Sarah laughs, feeling his eyes on her” — it feels more natural this way.

don’t give readers your personal feelings. “the walls are closing in, and he still has trouble standing up on unsteady legs. panic’s making it hard to breathe as he realizes he’s going to die. what will poor Daniel do now?” — “poor” in this case is the author’s opinion, how they feel about their character. it’s unnecessary to add in your work because, with all due respect, it can make the whole thing sound like a children’s book where readers are not capable of knowing how they’re supposed to feel in this scene and so they need the author to tell them how to feel. unless you’re writing something specifically for kids, don’t do this. don’t insult your readers’ intelligence by constantly guiding them how they should feel about this particular character in this particular situation. your readers are not kids. they are perfectly capable of knowing how they feel. they will feel sorry for the character on their own. they will read your work and think “oh no, poor guy. how will he get out of this now?” on their own. you, as the author, don’t have to tell them to be sorry for the character.

don’t outright underestimate your own work. being humble is a good thing, but sometimes you just have to be proud. don’t directly say “this sucks” or “I don’t really like how this turned out” in the author’s note, it can actually drive readers away from your fic. it drove me away from a fic so many times. and it’s a shame, because I really believe your readers — I really believe I — would’ve loved your fic if they’d — if I had — given it a chance. but the disclaimer that outright says “this isn’t good” from the author themself is unfortunately more than enough a reason as to why readers decide not to read it altogether. so… don’t say that. you can be unsatisfied with your work, but your readers don’t have to know that. hell, they might even love it. so, yeah, be proud.

don’t replace eyes with orbs. I… admit that I frequently did this during my Wattpad phase, and it’s actively haunting my nightmares to this day. I guarantee you that you can just say eyes. “she looks right into his eyes” yes, you can say this, and it will always sound more professional in terms of writing than “she looks right into his beautiful blue orbs” which, if I’m being brutally honest, “orbs” used to describe eyes just makes it all sounds like a school essay where we purposefully use fancy words so that our teachers know we have those words memorized in our vocabulary. but yeah… it’s painfully cringe to call eyes orbs and it almost always makes me want to just stop reading your work, and I mean this with utter respect. don’t make the same mistake I made when I was an emo teenager. if you really must have to use other word that isn’t “eyes” just call them face balls or something (I’m joking, please don’t actually call them face balls). but seriously, literally anything that isn’t orbs. just… call them eyes. it’s already perfect.

don’t replace world with planet, if your work doesn’t include theme about space/sci-fi or if you’re not describing an actual planet (as in climate change towards the planet or a lost planet that’s never been found, for instance). — world and planet give readers two very different feelings. if you’re describing an antagonist, who is not a literal alien from another planet, whose plan is to corrupt or take over the world, just say world. “he knows he will watch the world burn in the end” sounds more aesthetically appealing and more professionally interesting than “he will destroy this beautiful planet” because, honestly, the latter sounds like I’m reading a fic about climate change, which yeah… unless you’re writing a fic about climate change, just avoid using the word planet in context like this and you’re good.

don’t avoid the use of Capital Letters at the beginning of a sentence and when you’re mentioning a specific name while writing a fic. you’re probably thinking I’m being the biggest hypocrite right now, because I’ve literally been deliberately using all lowercase phrases this entire post. I mean that’s because this is just a Tumblr post, not an actual AO3 fic. listen, I know writing fic is a hoppy, not a job. but if you really want to have your readers feel like they’re reading an actual novel while reading your work, I promise you the use of Capital Letters is your best friend, don’t neglect them.

*smut below the cut*

don’t replace cock with penis. I won’t go too deep here (no pun intended HELP💀) but cock sounds sexy, exciting and fun. while penis sounds like you’re describing a human anatomy during a lecture. smut is supposed to make readers feel aroused. it’s not supposed to make them feel like they’re reading a text book or are studying for an exam.

don’t replace cunt with pussy. in my very humble opinion, while talking about smut, cunt sounds explicit, raw, erotically mysterious and is overall a turn on while… I don’t know, reading the word pussy just doesn’t make me go AAAAAAHHHH the way reading the word cunt does (just my guess but maybe it’s because the word “pussy” is overused; we call everything a pussy nowadays that it just lost its meaning). also, from 99% of the smut I’ve read, it’s more professionally written if the author uses cunt instead of pussy.

***also, for the same reason why we don’t replace cock with penis in a smut fic, please don’t use the word vagina unless you’re preparing your readers for their anatomy class.

[kesujo]

A Special Way to Practice

All was quiet in the SM building. One might think this meant that everything was peaceful, but upon closer inspection of a certain soundproof practice room located at the end of the hallway of a certain floor, it could be discerned that wasn’t the case.

Jessica sighed again, taking another drink from her water bottle. “Come on Jessica, you got this,” she whispered to herself, taking a few deep breaths before preparing herself yet again.

She was so concentrated that she didn’t even notice the door quietly open and a figure shuffling inside the room with her.

Yet again, Jessica fumbled as she reached the problematic part. It was at this point when the figure in the room with Jessica acted.

“Need help?” Taeyeon’s silky voice said, wrapping her arms around Jessica’s waist to hug her from behind.

“AH!” Jessica squealed, almost jumping from the sudden contact. It only took a second for her to recognize Taeyeon’s voice, but when she did, she slapped Taeyeon’s hand. “Yah, you almost never talk to me as it is, but when you do, you startle me like this?”

Taeyeon giggled. “Sorry. I also came here to practice a bit but I noticed that my favorite room was taken, so when I opened the door and found out it was you, I decided to surprise you,” she said, releasing her embrace.

“I was working on my part for our duo, but I can’t sing well ever since I recovered from my sickness,” Jessica stated, frustration clearly laced into her voice.

“Relax, you won’t improve if you’re beating yourself up,” Taeyeon replied, placing her hands on Jessica’s shoulders.

“The recording is in two days though, isn’t it?” Jessica continued.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Taeyeon said, situating herself in the chair slightly behind and to the right of Jessica.

Although Jessica knew that Taeyeon had good intentions despite their somewhat strained relationship these days, she couldn’t help but feel a little more nervous, knowing that she was paying this much attention to her singing.

Jessica closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, imaging herself singing the part perfectly in her head. She then started from the beginning.

However, be it the nerves or whatever else, Jessica once again stalled at the critical part; she cringed a bit as she sung one of her high notes slightly flat, which cascaded into her messing up the rhythm in that problematic part, which was only followed by her fumbling a bit over the lyrics in the next phrase.

Jessica stopped and sighed again, suppressing her desire to clench her fists and curse at her lack of ability yet again. What was she doing wrong? Why couldn’t she do it? Was she just not concentrating enough?

“It’s ok, Sica,” Taeyeon said, placing her hands again on Jessica’s shoulders and massaging it. “Don’t get frustrated. You can do it; let’s just focus on that note, ok?”

Jessica nodded in response, placing her hands on her legs and studying the music sheet in front of her more closely.

The action, while insignificant, gave Taeyeon an idea.

Jessica followed Taeyeon’s advice and slowly made her way to that note, starting a few seconds before the high note in the song and slowly working on every note leading up to it. While Jessica was concentrating on the music, Taeyeon’s concentration was somewhere else.

Jessica was always a skinny person. However, maybe it was because she was American, or maybe because she was just lucky, but her assets were something to be envious of—at least, to Taeyeon.

Taeyeon silently thanked the weather for being so gracious that day; while her gradually increasing attraction to her groupmate generally caused Taeyeon to distance herself from Jessica more and more, today was different. Today, Taeyeon thanked the summer weather for being so hot to cause Jessica to wear such small shorts. Today, Taeyeon unabashedly stared at Jessica’s shiny legs, wondering if its texture was as smooth as it appeared. Today, Taeyeon wondered what it would be like to feel Jessica’s skin against her own.

Taeyeon pushed her chair closer to Jessica’s, boldly placing her hand on her leg, just a couple of centimeters away from her crotch. “Ok, let’s stop there,” Taeyeon said, leaning slightly in to point at the music sheet while applying some pressure to her leg.

A brief, barely audible gasp escaped Jessica’s lips as Taeyeon did this, eliciting a slight grin from the shorter woman. “Usually, my technique when singing parts like this is to practice gradually getting up to the note. Did you do scales today already?” Taeyeon asked the slightly flustered Jessica.

“Yeah,” she responded, trying her best not to pay attention to Taeyeon’s hand.

Taeyeon nodded and leaned back into her chair, keeping her hand there.

When Taeyeon did this, Jessica, still conscious of Taeyeon’s hand, subconsciously looked down at it. This got Taeyeon’s attention. “What’s wrong?” she asked the nervous brunette.

“Oh, um … your hand …” she said, trailing off at the end.

Taeyeon giggled. “Does it make you nervous?” she boldly asked.

Jessica, not expecting this kind of response, felt herself take in a sharp breath. If her face hadn’t started heating up already, it definitely was by now. “I … um, y-yeah,” she replied.

“If you can sing well while being nervous, then you’ll never have a problem with singing high notes ever again,” Taeyeon said, justifying her actions.

“Oh … ok,” Jessica said, resolved to putting her trust in Taeyeon. She took a few breaths before continuing, restarting her scales.

However, it got progressively harder. Not only because she went higher after each successful completion of a set, but also because Taeyeon’s hand inched forward a tiny bit as Jessica went higher.

A little before Jessica hit the note that she needed to sing in the duet, Taeyeon’s hand slipped underneath her shorts’ fabric, now sandwiched firmly between her shorts and her legs.

Jessica took a short pause, taking a quick second to settle herself down before resuming her scales.

As the brunette closed in onto the note, Taeyeon’s hand creeped further and further into Jessica’s shorts; when she finally hit the note, Jessica was practically gasping for breath, her heart rate increased two, threefold.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Taeyeon said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Thanks,” Jessica replied, honestly impressed with herself as well.

“I didn’t think you’d be this wet.”

It was at this moment that Jessica’s mind went blank. Wet? What does she mean? Am I sweating? This building is air-conditioned though. How am I …

When she finally understood what she meant, she felt her face burn red.

Jessica was the type of person who, when she put her mind onto focusing on something, it was hard for her to notice anything else. This was why she was caught so many times staring blankly at something; there would be times she was thinking so intently about something that she failed to notice what was going around her until someone got her attention.

So when Jessica was practicing her scales while trying to ignore Taeyeon’s advancing hand, she hadn’t even noticed the fact that she had started to ‘leak’.

“A-Ah! I-I…Taeyeon!” Jessica squealed, hitting Taeyeon’s arm but refusing to meet her gaze.

“Are you this turned on by me?” she inquired, edging her chair closer to Jessica’s. The brunette didn’t respond, which only turned the dark-haired woman on more. “Do you want to feel how wet I am?” she asked in return.

Jessica noticeably reacted to this, her legs twitching slightly, unintentionally pushing Taeyeon’s hand closer to the source of her ‘wetness’.

“Taeng, wh-what are you doing?” the flustered woman asked.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Jessica couldn’t bring herself to say it, though. It felt strange, but a good kind of strange; however, something in the back of her mind was telling her that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this.

Watching Jessica struggle only further provoked Taeyeon, urging her to continue poking dangerously close to her crotch. Taeyeon had been slowly turning Jessica’s chair towards her, and at this point, Jessica was more or less facing Taeyeon entirely.

“This is getting in the way; let’s take it off, shall we?” Taeyeon suggested mischievously, using her free hand to unbutton Jessica’s shorts.

“N-No…” Jessica breathed out, her hands gripping the arm rests of her chair tightly. Those words came out of her mouth, but her body, her mind—everything else was telling her YES.

Taeyeon disregarded Jessica and gently pulled her shorts off, revealing her white panties that were soaked to the point of almost being transparent.

“Should I take this off as well?” Taeyeon mused, pushing the shorts against the wall of the small practice room while running a finger along the wet fabric.

Jessica, unable to respond, only whimpered in response. Honestly, she didn’t know what to feel—on one hand, she didn’t seem to be capable of stopping her, but on the other hand, she felt like she shouldn’t be doing this with her fellow member. Not to mention that they were in a public place and anyone could easily walk in on them.

Taeyeon proceeded to hook her fingers around the hem of the clothing and pull away from her body. “W-Wait!” Jessica managed to say, shuddering as she felt her thoroughly soaked underwear detach from her womanhood, causing a bit of her juice to leak out.

“Hm?” Taeyeon asked, looking up at Jessica innocently in complete contrast to the fact that her fingers were currently wrapped around Jessica’s soaked panties.

“I-I don’t think we should do this…” Jessica finished, barely able to finish her sentence.

“Why not? I read somewhere that drinking cum is good for your throat,” Taeyeon retorted, completely pulling off Jessica’s panties.

Jessica gasped, both from hearing the word and feeling the fabric swiftly pulled past her legs and onto the ground. She tried her best to close her legs; however, not only was Taeyeon pushing them open with her own hands, Jessica’s legs felt weak, as if she had just run a mile. Which was strange because Jessica never ran.

“Wow, that’s sexy,” Taeyeon commented as she eyed Jessica’s quivering pussy, its folds seeming to shiver in response to contact with the cool air-conditioning of the building.

“Stop … don’t look,” Jessica said, her eyes tightly closed, her cheeks flushed a light shade of red, her heart racing inside her chest. Because she chose to inhibit her own vision, she didn’t expect it when Taeyeon���s hand made contact with her sensitive labia lips.

“AAh!” she squealed, jumping a little and gripping the arm rests of the chair even harder.

“Good thing these rooms are soundproof huh? This way, you can scream my name all you want and no one will be able to hear you,” Taeyeon said, teasing the outside of Jessica’s entrance, standing up and hovering over her.

It definitely didn’t seem normal to Jessica, getting this turned on by her own groupmate. Still, she couldn’t help but gasp and moan, squirming under Taeyeon’s touch, feeling herself grow hotter in response to Taeyeon’s words.

Jessica didn’t even notice Taeyeon’s attempt to take her shirt off until it was already at her arms. For some reason, when the shirt met her arms, Jessica’s arms raised, as if an automatic reaction.

“W-Wait!” Jessica stammered, not clearly processing what just occurred.

“Ok ok, I’ll remove my shirt too,” Taeyeon responded, removing her hands from Jessica’s crotch to slip her shirt off before taking both pieces of clothing and placing them on top of the piano.

Jessica just sat there, watching her. Now’s my chance. I should … I should … should what? She wanted to be angry at Taeyeon for giving her the cold shoulder all this time only to turn around and give her this much attention, but she couldn’t do it. And now that they were in such a compromised position, she couldn’t help but feel a welling sensation build up inside her chest—excitement? Curiosity? Anxiety?

“That’s not what I meant…” Jessica murmured, causing Taeyeon only to chuckle as she stepped out of her pants, leaving her only in her underwear.

Jessica tried her best not to stare. It wasn’t like she hasn’t ever seen Taeyeon in just her underwear, but now that they were in this situation, it seemed a bit different. Taeyeon seemed more …  more alluring, and Jessica was unsure what to think once she realized this.

Taeyeon kicked her pants away and placed her hands right back on Jessica, one hand cupping Jessica’s womanhood while the other headed for her mounds.

“Ah—Ah…” Jessica gasped as Taeyeon’s finger once again greeted her labia lips. However, this time, Taeyeon spent no time and directly plunged two digits inside of her. “Ah!” Jessica squealed, feeling her hands wrap tightly around the edge of the armrests of the chair.

The culmination of all of Taeyeon’s teasing was released into Jessica as a wave of pleasure as Taeyeon’s fingers entered her. She was aware of her own moaning and was embarrassed by it, but she just couldn’t help herself.

“God you’re so sexy, Sica-yah,” Taeyeon noted, reaching around Jessica to swiftly remove her bra, leaving the brunette completely in the nude.

“Y-Yah…” Jessica whined, feeling herself grow hotter and hotter as Taeyeon’s fingers pumped in and out of her. “What are y—AH!”

Jessica was interrupted as Taeyeon bent down and captured a nipple in her mouth, suckling on the hardened nub. Jessica’s back arched as her body seemed to instinctively reacted to Taeyeon.

Despite everything, Jessica was glad that the room was soundproof, because if anyone else were to hear how just how much she was moaning, she would probably go into hiding for a couple of days.

However embarrassing it was for Jessica though, her moans were music to Taeyeon’s ears. It was like all her pent-up emotions over the last few months, even last year or two, were released as she relentlessly attacked Jessica’s pussy.

“I want to hear you say my name,” Taeyeon requested, finally detaching herself from Jessica’s bust. When she didn’t respond, Taeyeon leaned in, situating herself over Jessica’s knee and whispered into her ear, “I want to hear how much you love getting finger fucked by me. I want to hear you scream out my name as I make you cum.”

Jessica, in addition to feeling Taeyeon’s fingers thrust against her pussy walls, couldn’t help but feel even more turned on at Taeyeon’s dirty talk. However, she couldn’t bring herself to fulfill Taeyeon’s request; she had her own pride, not to mention that it would be supremely embarrassing.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” Taeyeon asked, grinning. Honestly, she had hoped that Jessica was going to do this and added a third finger, quickly finding her G-spot and curling her fingers onto it.

“AHH—AHH!” Jessica squealed loudly as she felt another wave of pleasure wash over her.

“Come on, say it,” Taeyeon urged her, bringing her free hand up to massage Jessica’s boobs.

“T-Taeyeon!” she screamed, feeling her leg muscles contract, a tightness in her stomach forming.

Taeyeon grinned, immensely satisfied. “What do you want me to do?” she said, urging Jessica on. When she didn’t respond, Taeyeon responded in kind with added intensity, pumping her three fingers even more furiously inside her groupmate.

“I-I want you to fuck me until I cum! I want to soak your fingers with my juices—AH FUCK!” Jessica screamed, giving in to Taeyeon’s demands. The tight feeling inside her stomach only grew as her pussy walls closed in onto Taeyeon; however, this didn’t stop the now reinvigorated Taeyeon, who furiously worked her magic.

“Tae—Taeyeon…AAAHHH!” Jessica screamed as she climaxed, feeling her body shake as her vagina forcibly ejected her juices onto Taeyeon’s fingers, coating them with her honey.

Taeyeon let the younger woman ride her orgasm out. After just over half a minute, Jessica finally subsided, after which Taeyeon pulled her fingers out. Jessica slumped to the back of her chair, lazily eyeing Taeyeon.

“Don’t want to waste this,” Taeyeon noted, making eye contact with Jessica before inserting the digits into her mouth.

It was strange; for some reason, Jessica couldn’t help but simply watch as Taeyeon sucked her fingers dry before moving down and cleaning up her legs and pussy lips. After watching Taeyeon clean her up, not to mention feeling her tongue on her skin, Jessica found herself once again extremely aroused.

“Ah, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be for you,” Taeyeon said, stripping herself down.

Jessica bit her lip, once again unable to avert her gaze as Taeyeon removed her underwear. When Taeyeon finally set aside her bra and looked at Jessica, she giggled. “Do you like what you see?” she asked. Jessica, unknowingly, nodded as an almost automatic reaction. This caused Taeyeon to laugh even more, and after Jessica realized what she just did, flushed a deep shade of red. “Do you want to touch me? Do you want to feel how wet fucking you made me?”

Jessica, whose eyes were diverted to the ground, found herself in a furious struggle with herself. She desperately just wanted to say ‘YES’, but for some reason, found the prospect to be too embarrassing to allow herself to do. In the end, she settled for a shy nod.

“If you want to improve, you have to commit yourself to it. I want to hear you say it,” Taeyeon insisted. She settled herself onto Jessica’s leg, splitting her legs on each side so that her bare pussy was touching Jessica’s skin.

Taeyeon grinned mischievously as Jessica reacted, Taeyeon’s juices immediately starting to dribble onto the legs of the brunette.

“I-I want to have my way with you too,” Jessica muttered, hiding her face behind her hands in embarrassment.

Taeyeon giggled. “You’re so cute. Come get me, princess,” she said, shifting herself closer to Jessica.

However, despite all the sound that the pair was making, the floor itself was completely silent. The only thing that could be heard was the rush of cool air as the building’s air-conditioning maintained the inside temperature to bearable standards. However, this silence was soon shattered by a ding!

Out stepped another woman, about Jessica’s height, staring intensely at a sheet of music. She was wearing a light summer dress, the frilly edges reaching to just above her kneecaps; her dark sunglasses framed her eyes, sharply juxtaposed to her pale skin lightly done makeup.

As she turned the corner to the row of practice room a certain pair of women were occupying, the woman suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, Taeyeon said she would be here, right? Maybe we can practice together,” she said, calmly walking to a certain practice room located at the end of the hall.

“Taeyeon! Are you here?” she loudly asked as she neared the room she knew was Taeyeon’s favorite. “Oh right, they’re sound proof,” she said, giggling to herself.

When she finally reached the practice room at the end of the hall, she flung the door open. “Taeyeon?”

“Ah, Fany!”

Tiffany looked curiously into the room. Jessica and Taeyeon were both sitting in chairs, Jessica firmly staring at the music in front of her as Taeyeon turned around in her seat to look at Tiffany. For some reason, at least to Tiffany, Taeyeon seemed to be wearing a somewhat smug grin while Jessica seemed to be blushing. “You two are doing a duet, right? Are you practicing together?”

Taeyeon ardently nodded. “Yeah, I was just giving Sica some tips,” she told Tiffany.

“Ah, ok. Well I’m not going to bother you two any further then. Good luck!” she said, closing the door. Why were they like that?

[lilyofthevalleyys]

just wanna say i have wind breaker brain rot right now (the manga)

10/10!! highly recommend reading/watching it!

i’m hoping that i can find the manga but i dont have high hopes. some merch maybe? the chance is probably really low too though :/

more photos under the cut! + me talking about them

also i really want suo’s earrings but they’re impractical so i probably can’t get them 😭 maybe next time 😔

also please tap on the photo for higher quality!

also x2, there blood in the second photo, not a lot but just a warning!

LOOK AT THEM

i haven’t watched the anime on my phone to screenshot yet so i don’t have any good pics but KIRYUU <33 he’s the longish haired person. can you tell he’s my favourite. and Nirei being best supporting character <33

i had mixed feelings about kiryuu at first cuz i was uncertain about his vibe BUT HES AMAZING

kaji is a favourite too!!! his headphones, lollipop and hoodie is so iconic. i also love his parallel to sakura! sakura has someone to ask advice for who’s similar to him :))

introducing the four kings of furin/bofurin!

MOMOSE, the zojo king (the guy with a hood and sweater paws) we don’t know much about him yet (i hope we get more) but i just like him so he’s a favourite! so my top three are kiryuu, kaji and momose, in no particular order

tsubakino, the jikoku king (the one in the second frame)! the way the whole town just accepts them!! and their crush is treated like any other normal crush! they’re so older sibling vibe i love them so much

hiragi, the tamon king (the one in the third frame)! the dad of the group and the one who pops those stomachache pills/tablets like it’s nothing. tbf having to deal with the leader of furin, who legit yells into the broadcast mic thing, isn’t easy 😭

mizuki, the komoku king (the guy in the first frame)! nothing much is known about him either but he’s seems serious and is the strategy person of furin. also he takes off his glasses when he fights which is just really cool

also i realise i haven’t said this but the one with dual colored hair (kinda like todoroki shouto) is the main character of the manga, sakura, who’s goal is to be at the top of furin! he’s got ✨ trauma ✨ but he’s slowly learning to accept and rely on people :)) he also blushes at any kind of romance (and also when he’s shy or embarrassed), even hand holding. i don’t know how he’s gonna date people honestly

and of course, the leader/representative of furin, hajime umemiya! he’s really just like an elementary school kid, as Suo says. hes the sunshine character who you wouldn’t wanna piss off. he’s also the one who united furin with the four kings when they used to be a dog-eat-dog kind of school, so major respect to him!

(the next one contains a bit of spoiler on suo?? idk but just a warning. it’s more of a mini analysis)

a more formal introduction of suo and nirei, sakura’s vice captains and the supporting characters! nirei is good with people and collects information on people in his notebook. he’s the sunshine in the trio, and the other two are the sunshine protectors! suo is a joker, but don’t let that kind face get to you. he’s like the main instigator of most of the (harmless) shit that goes down in 1-1. he’s also mysterious with little information about him. oh and he doesn’t eat?? not in front of other people at least. i really wanna know his backstory tbh

but also:

suo. hes mostly easygoing with a smile on his face all the time. but also freaking scary when pissed off like if someone was looking at me like that i’d run and never look back. yes sakura is right, that’s not the face of someone who’s kind, not in this case. i’ll make a post psycho analysing him later

but he takes fourth on my favourite character list! then tsubakino, umemiya, nirei, hiragi, tsugeura, kusumi, suzuri, choji, togame, the twins etc. the list goes on.

point is: wind breaker is great and i highly recommend reading/watching it.

thats all! imma go make a post analysing suo later, because seriously he’s so mysterious. thanks for reading!