#I don’t hate the people saying this or anything I just think the thought is annoying

[adimouze]

post-las vegas WDC max/daniel, rated M. ~1300 words. @girlsdads mentioned something about a lil bit of LL hating in a fic so. I did a lil bit of LL hating too.

-

A face floats into Max’s field of vision probably three hours into the fifth different party Max had been shepherded to since the race ended. He’s about ninety-percent sure he’s still in Las Vegas. He blinks blearily at it, hoping at least it’s pretty enough to look at. It has been a while since. Since.

Liam Lawson blinks back. Not who he was expecting. Gross. 

“Max,” he says, sounding too sober for whatever time it is. The club is loud but Max can still unfortunately hear him. “Are you okay?”

Max attempts a sweeping gesture, he’s carrying a glass of something and it hits someone’s back, making Max drop it with a smash. Liam cringes, looking like he’s about to complain. “This is my party, mate,” Max says, cutting off whatever Liam was going to say. “I’m fucking great.”

“Christian just left,” Liam says, and Max kind of hates how he talks but what can you do. Maybe he just doesn’t like Liam. “I think there’s another party happening a few blocks from now, do you want to join me?”

If Christian left that means Max can leave without theoretically offending anybody, even though it is his party. Half of the people around him don’t seem like people he knows anyway. “Nah man, you go on ahead, I’ll head back to the hotel –”

“Oh then I’ll head back with you,” Liam’s probably the most cheerful he’s been since Max met him. “Yuki scored and left me here.” 

Pity isn’t something Max feels often, but he does feel a bit of pity now. In his first year he was never left alone in clubs, either Carlos or Daniel were always there making sure they were around to get him back to wherever before they took someone home or to their hotel rooms. More often it was Daniel, and more often Daniel didn’t take anyone home, because they were sharing a room and more often it was just fun to watch onboards together, side by side. 

No one else but them. 

Then again, Max was a teenager in his first year and Liam’s twenty-two. He wouldn’t need babysitting. 

“Alright,” Max isn’t sure where he is. He doesn’t know how to ask Liam without sounding like an absolute idiot. 

“I have a car waiting,” Liam adds, after Max stared off into the distance for a few seconds, willing someone to appear with a car. Maybe Max isn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. 

_____

Red Bull and VCARB drivers are often put up in the same hotel, usually the standard room but Helmut had finangled him a penthouse upgrade on Thursday, telling Max that he deserved a proper room to party in, like Max was going to bring home an orgy. 

He’s pretty sure Liam couldn’t possibly have gotten a penthouse upgrade too. He’s sure hotels only have one penthouse? He’s sure. If he was less drunk he would be surer. But Liam makes no move to push any buttons. 

“Mind if I come up for a nightcap?” Liam asks, smiling. This is the most Max has seen him smile ever since he got Daniel…ever since Daniel left and he jumped in the car. Max does not want him to come up for a nightcap but Max is feeling generous tonight. 

“Sure, why not.” Someone had spilled what seems like a bottle of champagne on him at some point in the night and his shirt is sticking to him. He’s too tired to shower. Meh. It’ll be a problem for hungover Max tomorrow. 

The lift goes up insanely fast but still feels too slow for Max tonight. He’s WDC, four times WDC, he’s used to faster things, sue him. Liam is still staring at him. 

“Good driving tonight,” Max says, for want of anything better to do or say. He has no idea where Liam finished to be honest. 

“I finished 16,” Liam says flatly. Yikes. Well. 

The door dings open onto Max’s floor. And. 

Daniel’s sitting on the giant sectional of the penthouse living room. 

He looks gorgeous. Max wants to stare forever. He looks broad and good and tanned, his beard has filled in a lot more than when Max last saw him in Monaco, his hair thicker. The sweatshirt he’s wearing looks less oversized than usual, fitting his shoulders instead of drooping over them, and his trousers make his thighs look great. 

He’s smirking. He looks like a frat guy. He looks like one of those men from Victoria’s magazines that Max definitely didn’t jerk off over. 

Max is probably drooling, and Liam runs into him as he’s stepping out of the lift. 

“Oh sorry mate I – Daniel, hello.” Liam’s voice is a bit high. Confused. Probably scared. “Didn’t realize you were in Vegas. Red Bull didn’t…”

Daniel stands up and comes over. Max is still staring. Daniel moves like an apex predator and Liam’s just the runt of litter in this.  “Hey Liam. Well. Red Bull doesn’t own me anymore mate, do they? I can be wherever I want.”

He claps Liam on the shoulder in greeting then grabs Max’s limp hand. “Came to see my boy be the World Champion again.”

Liam’s probably saying something but Max doesn’t care, because Daniel’s pulling him in, arms going around Max, sticky shirt and all, and Max is going to swoon because Daniel smells good, good, good, their lips meeting after ages, Daniel’s lips and tongue the best, most refreshing thing Max has tasted all night. Someone’s moaning. 

It’s him. 

“Um…”

Liam’s still there. 

Max tries to pull back but Daniel’s got his hands on his ass, lifting, lifting, and Max’s legs going around him in response, and Daniel’s got them on the sofa in a second, Max perched on Daniel’s wide wide thighs without even separating their lips once. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever felt. He’s going to come just from the thought alone. 

“Liam,” Daniel’s saying, pulling back a few centimeters to give Max some breathing space. “I’m going to fuck my husband on this sofa right now, and he’s going to be screaming loud enough to be heard from the moon. So like,” he pops the k, and Max’s dick twitches, precome dripping into his underwear, “unless you want a front row seat to that for some reason, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?” 

“Husband?” Liam’s stuttering. “Excuse me? You can’t – Does Christian know? He’s going to be so mad at you, Max what the fuck –?”

“Get out,” Daniel says. Max has never heard him sound like that. “Now.” 

“I’m calling Christian,” Liam says as a parting shot. “He won’t – he’s not going to allow this.”

“Yeah you do that, mate,” Daniel rolls his eyes then squeezes Max’s ass harder. God, he’s so hot. Max feels insane. Husband husband husband. “What’s he going to do, fire me again?” 

The lift dings shut again. They’re blessedly alone. 

“Husband?” Max snorts, shivering as Daniel’s fingers undo his pant buttons. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“The ring’s in the suitcase, baby,” Daniel says, smiling like a wolf, fingers curling around Max’s dick. Max grinds into the feeling, needing Daniel inside him right now. This is the best day of his life. “Was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Max laughs, and Daniel bites his nipple through his shirt. “Liam’s probably told the Herald by now.”

“I’ll personally send him the wedding photos,” Daniel cackles, licking up Max’s neck, leaving wet trails in the cold air con of the room, “if he promises to send me photos of Christian when he tells him I was about to fuck him in front of you.”

“Stop talking about Christian and fuck the World Champion already, husband,” Max says, his laughter turning into moans when Daniel all too willingly complies.

[tsuutarr]

As just imagined then everything as a game and the hero as seeing like a freak by all the people and the reader as the only good and nice npc then treat him well and even give him free item even if our store is not very we still give him a apologize about the others (npcs) being rude with him and the hero being so delusinal the fall over us lol

so, because i have absolutely NO self control, I made another story <3

Yandere! RPG Protagonist x Reader

Gallius isn’t entirely sure when he gained sentience. Maybe it was when he’d have insistent feelings of déjà vu. Maybe it was when he would want to go somewhere or do something, but an external force prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was when the people he talked to would say the same things over and over and over again.

Regardless, one day, he realized that he doesn’t actually exist – at least, not in a way that matters. He’s just a piece of code, a bunch of pixels moving across the screen, trapped in a video game.

The worst part is that everyone around him – and he means everyone – lacks sentience. It’s gotten to the point that he’s memorized everything. Every dialogue, every story path – everything.

It’s a fruitless life, really, especially since he’s forced to obey his code. He’s forced to go along with whatever the person controlling him wants. He’s forced to be the happy-go-lucky protagonist. He can’t be anything but that.

Gods, he’s going to go insane.

And he’s tried to talk to people, really.

“Hey, so, I think we’re in a game.”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius never thought the tavern’s owner could look so lifeless. “So, you know, I guess you really don’t have sentience.”

“Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”

“Don’t you wish there was a way you could… I don’t know, break free? Talk beyond your code?”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius holds back a sigh. The tavern owner says three things exactly. “Beer is fifty percent off, young man”, “Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”, and “I don’t know if I prefer a full tavern or an empty one!” are the exact phrases the tavern owner recycles. It isn’t just the tavern owner, either. It’s everyone else in town. The blacksmith, the carpenter, the seamstress – all of them.

It kind of drives him insane. Maybe that’s why he tries to find solace in anything he can, like you.

“Gods, I hate being the only one who sees that we’re a pile of code,” he tells you. You’re a cute shopkeep – whoever designed you must be a genius – that he likes to see from time to time. If anything, you’re easy on the eyes, at least.

“Yes, it does appear that you’re having quite the rough time,” you say. He knows you’re just saying one of your coded phrases, he does, but he can’t help but latch on to that piece of support you give.

“Yeah, you get it.” He laughs dryly. “But what can I do? I have to keep going. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“You’re doing well. I’m proud of you.”

Gods, he can’t hide his grin. Yes, you’re just saying one of your phrases, but the comfort your words bring – it’s unreal. It’ll probably be even more unreal if he could actually talk to you. If you both had sentience, if you both could go against your code. The thought makes him fall silent.

“...Hey, I’m gonna leave for a bit. Maybe a long time,” he says finally, determined to help you break away from your code. He doesn’t really care too much about the other NPCs, but you? Oh, he wants you. He wants to talk to you, to be with you in a way that matters.

“Have a safe journey,” you say, automated. You hand him a potion, a freebie from your shop, with a smile. “On the house.”

Gallius smiles, taking the potion from you. Yeah, he’ll find a way to give you sentience like him. That way, you guys can truly be together forever.

[clawstar179]

I’m disappointed in this fandom.

Like the amount of hate the VA’s get for these shows is insane.

Can’t people just be mature about this and not spread their negative unwanted opinions about the shows.

Keep your negative opinions to yourself, you people hate on nice characters just because they did one bad thing and you tell the VA’s that their writing sucks or that they should write better.

These are fucking fnaf role play channels on YouTube, not some high rated tv show that costs money to watch.

You are the one who decided to watch these shows, if you don’t like the writing or the characters, don’t watch it, you don’t need to spread your opinion on how much you hate these shows when you can just not watch it, hell, you can block the channels so you don’t see any videos on your YouTube.

I am fucking 14 and I’m more mature than most of you.

These are real people that you’re telling that they write bad or the characters suck, they do this because it’s something they enjoy, and that can change real fucking fast. one day they can just quit, they could just delete the channels, then what? Think about it for a minute, that would mean you people just made the VA’s who just wanted to share something that they love, quit.

Think of it like this, there is a painting that someone made and they are sharing it with the world because they are proud of it, and you walk up to them and say the painting is bad, the colors don’t look good, the lines aren’t straight. this painting that someone put love and creativeness into, you just insulted, they spent time and thought on it and you just said that the art is bad.

It’s the same thing with the shows, they put time and thought into their writing and you flat out tell them the writing is bad, or the characters are bad.

Was anyone told as a kid, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all” you guys act worse than children, fucking grow up. Leave the VA’s alone, they did nothing wrong.

Hey guys please watch this clip created by JustALilKid taken from Davis' stream.

This community has gone so downhill one of the main, iconic and good people, Kat, is considering quiting.

All because we're greedy pieces of shits.

We gotta get our shit together friends, this is not fucking okay. Why do the VAs and ordinary people in the fandom keep having to deal with this crap?

Why can't people just keep hate to themselves?

What pleasure do they get out of saying in the public:

"Oh this is absolute garbage blah blah".

I'm sorry once again for opening my mouth, I don't know if anyone else will make a post about this. I have to thank my friend @sili-redwing for pointing this out on a group chat we have.

[plaidos]

Hi! I’m not a follower but I came across your post while browsing the arcane tag and I was curious bc I’d only heard positive things about the show re: representation so far. I went ahead and rewatched the scene you shared the image of and here’s what I’d say—

i don’t remember much about the character on the left, I think they’re only in there for that brief scene where we see them react as some rando gets thrown out of the brothel theyre standing in front of. They’re not treated like a joke, they just exist.

the one on the right is a yordle which is a race from LoL/arcane, which is why she looks “funko pop” esque. side note, she’s not the only yordle in the show and not all yordles are in the undercity. she’s only in one scene but has a somewhat important role. She’s not treated as a joke at all. When she seductively curls a finger at one of the side characters and he shies away and grimaces, I took that more as a kid (like a 13 year old) being creeped out that a lady old enough to be his grandma is trying to pull him into the brothel.

the whole scene this is a part of is just us being introduced to the city (“the undercity”) the main characters live in, it’s dark, it’s grimy, it’s the underbelly. We see shots of a lot of different types of creatures, different types of people, different races. The primary thing being portrayed here is how dangerous and non kid friendly the place is, as we see lots of criminals, shady characters, and ofc the aforementioned brothel.

all that being said, I’m not trans so I could be missing something here, but I feel like the screenshot is somewhat taken out of context. I myself had to go back and watch the scene to remember what happened.

Also, I really love the show and I think it’s a shame people are shying away from it because it’s based off league. Ofc you don’t have to watch anything you don’t want to, but it’s a great standalone story and I have a lot of friends who watched it despite hating league (and league players) and still enjoyed it!

Anyways sorry this was kind of long and I hope you don’t mind that I dropped into ur inbox despite not following u.

what you’re missing is that it is a joke. like, you’re telling me how you “took the scene” but you’re just wrong, sorry. like you don’t need to explain the scene to me! i went and watched it. and it’s transmisogynistic for all of the reasons i’ve described. just because there isn’t a massive punchline about her being a man in a dress doesn’t mean it isn’t transmisogynistic. like the audience is supposed to think that this huge muscular trans woman and her gremlin friend are disgusting and scary. it’s awesome that you didn’t and you thought this was just, oh cool, nice body types moment! but why were these specific women chosen for a joke about the seedy underbelly of this city? why these specific women for a joke about how scary this place is?

you have to stop closing your eyes when trans women point out the obvious. it is a transphobic joke. anybody trying to argue with me on that in my inbox will be blocked.

[socksracoon10]

Hii!! This is in response to you asking what charles and carlos both did in the vegas gp!

I'm just gonna be completely fully objective here, bc rlly they didn't do anything wrong.

What happened was, a series of radio msgs between the team and Carlos occurred, in which they told him they were going to stay on Plan A (one pit-stop I think) instead of Plan C (2 pit-stops). Carlos argued back, saying they should be pitting and how he wanted to pit right now/ next lap. They said no.

At this point, Lewis is pressuring Carlos, and Charles is behind Lewis. I'm pretty sure george had already pit his second time and was still leading. Max and lando had also pitted a second time.

Anyway, the team finally listen and tell Carlos to come into the pits. However, they mess up and weren't ready and then tell him to stay out. Obv, Carlos is mad now. No matter, they pit him in the next lap.

4 laps later (or 2 I can't exactly recall) they pit Charles. The team tells Carlos not to pressure Charles. The team tells Charles that Carlos won't overtake him. You see where this is heading, don't you.

Charles comes out PARALLEL to Carlos (I think the team thought he'd come out ahead). Carlos' tyres ate 4 laps old. They're heated up. They're faster. Charles has absolutely new, dead, cold tyres. Carlos doesn't pressure him. He simply drives around.

The real dram started after the race when we all saw Charles' radio😭 Honestly, this is just a team problem not a driver problem.

Alot of ppl are saying they would've gotten better results if carlos let Charles ahead— they really wouldn't have. There was no way the ferraris would've caught up to those mercs.

ANYWAYY, there's my most objective views. Maybe, I'm.missing a few things but I'm negl the race was honestly so boring to ACTUALLY watch, like now there's drama but literally nothing was happening apart from this😭

Thank you for this! Cuz this was what I saw during the race and what I thought happened!

I find it frustrating that people are blaming Carlos when it wasn’t Carlos’s fault at all, and I also find it frustrating that people think Charles’s meltdown was wrong. I keep saying this in every post but its clear as day that this was a ferrari problem not the drivers!

Mercedes was on a different level this weekend, they sure as hell were going to be 1-2, no doubt about that. And I get that Charles was trying to get p2 in the driver standings, but… 3-4 for constructors is literally phenomenal? I don’t see how Carlos isn’t a team player when this was the best outcome that could’ve happened. Besides his did better in qualifying anyway.

And I hate people mentioning old races like oh well Carlos moaned about this once… forget the past races, only focus on this one. Ugh, ferrari screwing over their drivers isn’t new but god, as someone who loves Carlos and Charles, I really hate seeing the fans tear each other apart.

Once again, thank you for the explanation!

[emmawithtwoms]

Potions Dungeon

@wolfstarmicrofic day 26 -831 words

Sirius Black had had many stupid ideas in his life: putting fairy dust in his mother’s tea, telling Snape about the secret passageway under the Whomping Willow, “accidentally” throwing a bludger at Slughorn during the last quidditch match… 

But choosing Remus Lupin as his potions partner during the lesson on Amortentia must have been the dumbest idea that had ever crossed his mind. 

To be fair, when they chose partners he did not know that they were going to brew love potions, but still, Morgana must have really hated him. 

All around him he could smell the scent of old books, earl grey tea, the Forbidden forest and fucking cinnamon. It was driving him insane. 

Padfoot could feel his palms sweating, his face blushing and his heart rushing, and why did nobody tell him of the arousing effect the vapors from Amortentia had? 

So he made a plan: he would not talk, think about or even look at Moony for the whole lesson. He would concentrate only on the potion, checking that the colour was right, that it was being turned the right amount of times, in the right direction and making sure that the right amount of ingredients was poured at the right moment and in the right way. Although it was Moony doing it, so it was hard ignoring his presence, his scent, and his hands… Merlin his hands, his beautiful, big, callous, scarred hands NO! He would not indulge in those thoughts. 

Sirius shook his head trying to remove everything regarding Remus and his hands from his head. Sadly, the other boy was not making it easy for Padfoot to ignore him. 

“Are you alright, Pads? You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just… lost in my head a bit” 

Sirius kept pointedly not looking at Moony. The smell from all the Amortentia in the room was so strong and so enveloping that he was sure that if he had looked at Remus, he would have confessed eternal love. 

Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“Is it because of your brother? If you need anything I am here, you know? Mulciber could “accidentally” drop a bit too much fairy dust and cause an explosion, accidentally ending the lesson earlier, you know?” 

Oh that beautiful, beautiful man, Sirius could melt because of him.

“No, I’m fine, really. I just can’t wait for this stupid lesson to be over. I fucking hate love potions.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I get it. And smelling this intensely the person you are in love with is very… distracting.”

Sirius finally lifted his gaze to look at Remus.

Right. The person you are in love with… he didn’t think about it, but surely Remus would smell someone too in the potion. Someone else. 

“Do you smell someone in particular, Moony?”

Please don’t, for the love of Merlin

“I… Yes I do.”

Those words stabbed Sirius right in the guts.

“Well, they must be very special to have you looking like that.”

Remus had a sad smile on his lips, like he resigned himself, like he felt hopeless. 

“Yes, he is.”

HE?

“I know he will never like me back, but I just can’t help it. He’s too important, too special. Even if he sometimes cannot see it, he is one of the best people I know.” 

“Don’t say that, Moons, everybody would be lucky to have you.” 

“Oh come on, you are my best friend, you have to say that.” 

“No, I’m serious, pun not intended. You are amazing Moony. You are kind, smart, brave, strong, funny and an evil mastermind. And honestly, you are rather beautiful, so if he can’t see it, sorry but he’s just not worth your time.” 

Remus stared at him in disbelief. The hand that was still on his shoulder tightened, his eyes glistened and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and Sirius, just for a second, indulged in the fantasy of a heartwarming love confession. 

But they were rudely interrupted by Slughorn, who announced the end of the lesson, and all the students hurried to bring samples of their potions to his desk, including Moony. 

While leaving the potions dungeon to head to dinner, though, Remus called Sirius back, leaving them behind from the group. 

“Pads, thank you for what you said earlier, you… you are really special.” 

Remus was not looking at him in the eyes and picking at his cuticles. 

“Moons, that was just the truth. Stop doing that with your fingers, you’ll hurt your hands.”

And without thinking about it, he took Remus’ hand in his and smiled at him, and he just… didn’t let go. Not until they reached the Great Hall, and not while they were eating, still with their pinkies intertwined during dinner, and not while climbing the stairs back to their common room. 

They both knew that they should have talked about it, but for now, for now it was fine just like that. 

[aek1ra]

Paris | Mark Lee

Pairing boyfriend!mark x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Mark, gets the offer of a lifetime but it means moving to Paris. Is this the start of a new future in a new city or where a great romance goes to die in the city of love.

Genre: angst, no warnings I think. Giselle and the rest of the æspa members play a small role.

Word count: 2,458

All stories are the property of © aek1ra, please do not copy, repost or translate without my permission. Thank you for your cooperation.

Friday

“I can’t stay here and be single for you, you’re my best friend why can’t you just be happy for me” you whisper shout at her in the middle of the crowded streets of Manhattan. “I am happy for you, I just don’t want you to regret this decision in the future-” she takes a deep breath and continues “look all I’m saying is that you’ve given up a lot for this relationship and this is one more thing he’s asking you to give up. Moving to Paris isn’t your dream y/n you’re chasing after him.” 

You heard her loud and clear, in fact you knew exactly what she was talking about. As much as you hate to admit you had been thinking the same thing for weeks now but how could you let him go. He was the missing puzzle piece, no he was the image you’re left with after the puzzle is completed. You had everything a girl in her mid twenties could ask for, the apartment in your dream city, the expensive shoes, the dream job and the dream boy. or at least you thought. No, you did and besides you’re not giving up your dream you’re simply moving it across an ocean. Yes, they have nice apartments in Paris, expensive shoes and people read magazines everywhere. It would take some time to find a job and some friends but once you got settled things would be the same, right? 

“I heard you, now let's drop this conversation I already quit my job and besides we leave tomorrow” you retort, taking a sip of your coffee hoping the warm beverage will help the lies come out smoother. She doesn’t say anything for a moment in fact you forget she’s even there. 1 beat 2 beats. “You weren’t even going to say goodbye to us? You can quit your job, throw away your shoes, hell even your hopes and dreams for some boy, but are we, am I that disposable to you.” pause “Actually you know what never mind, forget I said anything. Have a nice life y/n” 

3 beats, 4 beats. And with that you were left in the silence again except this time she really was gone. 

You walk into your shared apartment anxiously toying with your keys, the previous conversation replaying in your mind. 

“Baby your home, can you help me with the-” he stops mid-sentence seeing the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Hey what’s wrong? Things didn’t go well with Aeri, I take it?” you nod finally letting the tears you’d been holding all night cascade down your face. Mark is quick to pull into his chest, one arm around your waist pulling you in close, rubbing circles on your back. “She hates me. I don’t know why she can’t see things from my point of view. Everyone but her is happy for us, she’s my best friend and her opinion means the world to me. I mean she was my best friend.” you say in between sobs. 

He continues to listen as you drone on about her not understanding your feelings under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights. 

You were going to tell them, you did plan on saying goodbye but everything happened so fast. Mark had gotten offered the deal of a lifetime last week and asked you to move with him. Although it was sudden you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And with the long list of things you had to get done before the move like; putting the apartment up for sale, handing in your notice at work, packing, passports, visas,  you simply forgot to deliver the good news to your family and friends. 

When you called your parents this morning they expressed their excitement seeing you going on this adventure, truthfully they were just happy you’re happy, they know just how much you and Mark love each other. The other girls, Jimin, Minjeong and Yizhuo were all happy for you even if you knew deep down they had the same reservations as Aeri. She was the only person who didn’t seem to understand, or the only one not cowardly enough to say it out loud. She’ll come around eventually, right? 

After 15 minutes of effectively soaking your boyfriend's t-shirt he breaks the silence “come on” he starts as he cups your face softly in his hands wiping the last of the tears away, “let's get you to bed, we still have a few things to do before our flight tomorrow”. And with that you let him lead you to the bedroom thoughts of your friendship pushed to the back of your mind as the excitement and slight anxiety takes over. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday morning, First day in Paris

Before you knew it you were in Paris, standing in the lobby of the infamous Ritz Carlton. The company had booked a 5 night stay for you both while the deal was being finalised. Mark went off to get your room key while you stood admiring the crystal chandelier hanging above you. It was mesmerising, dazzling, the main star, the sun, the other lights danced around. He was standing at the front desk a few steps away, the lights above him creating a spotlight on him. There he was, your crystal chandelier, your sun and you were his earth quietly, forever orbiting around him. 

“Hey” his voice snaps you out of your haze, “let’s head up stairs yeah” he takes your hand in his, the sound of hurried footsteps and soft giggles are all that's left as you both disappear into the elevator.

Ding!

You come to a stop on the top floor, the Imperial suite. The view up here was stunning. Breathtaking. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, every morning you would be waking up to two of the most beautiful views, the Eiffel tower and your boyfriend. 

Thump. There it was, that feeling again, you had been feeling this pang in your heart, a sort of longing like something was missing. If you were being honest you had been feeling this since your talk with Aeri yesterday, more specifically after she left standing alone outside your apartment. 

The faint sound of a phone ringing pulls you out of your thoughts, you watch your boyfriend talk to someone on the phone, probably his manager. 

 “Right now?”

“No, that's fine I’ll be there. Can you give me 20 minutes? I'll shower and meet you at the studio.” he hangs up the phone making his way towards you. He stands in front of you staring in your eyes, “I’m so sorry I know we said we would spend the day together before I got too busy. But I promise you I’ll be back before 7, we’re still on for dinner right beautiful?” 

Mhm. You hum in response planting a quick peck on his lips “don’t worry about me I’ll go shopping for our date tonight.” 

To be quite honest you were upset it hadn’t even been 24 hours and he was already too busy for you. Who were you kidding, did you really think it would be different, Manhattan to Paris the only change was your address. Maybe he just had no more room in his life for you. No, it sounded urgent, probably something with the contract, a typo or something. You’re a big girl, you can spend the day alone in the hotel room, or better yet go out and buy yourself a new dress for dinner tonight. 

“Besides I think I’ll go out and check out the stores around the area” he gives you one last squeeze before letting go and making his way into the shower. 

Tshhh

The sound of the shower water interrupts the quiet of the room, wishing the water could just wash away all your worries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday night  

Standing in front of the mirror admiring yourself in the strapless Versace dress you purchased earlier on. The sneaking suspicion that Mark wasn’t going to make it home starts to creep up on you. He was always doing that, making plans with you and cancelling at the last minute, sometimes not even showing up and forgetting to call. You know how important his work is to him and how crazy his schedule can get sometimes. At the start of your relationship he made a point to always let you know if he was going to be late, sending flowers on the days he misses a date. But as time went on the flowers and calls started to slow down eventually coming to a stop. I mean you knew he didn’t mean to, you didn’t need gifts to know that he never meant to forget you, he never meant to keep you waiting. 

The clock finally strikes seven and you’re sitting on the small couch at the end of the hallway, opposite the front door. Dazedly staring at the front door willing it to open, like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. Seven o’clock becomes eight, eight becomes nine, eventually it's Ten and you tire of waiting around so you decide to head to bed. 

It’s a quarter to Midnight when Mark returns, you spent the past thirty minutes tossing and turning, head full of questions, where could he be, was he alone, was he even thinking about you. He walks into the room, no he stumbles in knocking over a few perfume bottles that were on the dresser. You feign sleep, you're suddenly hit with the smell of alcohol. The bed dips next to you and soon enough you feel this lips on your cheeks, a quick bittersweet lingering kiss. The smell of alcohol is so overpowering you start to get dizzy. You feel a new emotion, not hurt, not disappointment, not hurt, but for the first time ever you were angry at him. While you were worried sick that he could’ve been somewhere out there lost in this foreign country where neither of you speak the language, or worse out dead in a ditch somewhere he was out drinking. Mark could be careless, inattentive, forgetful whatever you want to call it but never was he stupid. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning 

The sun rose at 7 this morning, you hadn’t slept at all last night, thoughts of what your future would look like if you decided to live here with him. Mark starts to stir in his sleep, finally waking up. He wraps his  arms around your waist, pulling you towards his chest murmuring a quick  “good morning beautiful”. When you don’t respond he shifts slightly, lifting his head off the bed to get a good look at your face. 

“Baby, hey I’m sorry time just got away from me-” he starts, but you think it's pointless listening to the same speech you’ve heard all these nights before. Mark was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, that is when he’s not too consumed by his work. You see for him everything else would always come second to his love for music, and maybe one day you would be strong enough to handle that truth. 

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot myself” you interrupt him before he can finish, “You have to get going, you’re going to be late for your important meeting.” you say albeit a bit too venomously for your liking, quickly sliding out of the bed and opting to sit by the window. 

“y/n” he starts but decides against it, instead deciding to give you your space. 

At 8:30am you hear the door to your room close signalling Mark has left for the day. You guys barely spoke to each other at breakfast, a silent dance of tension. Every few minutes you’d shoot him a soft smile in an attempt to show him you’re not mad, or in an attempt to lie to yourself. 

You had planned on going to see the cute cafes today while Mark was at his meeting, but after the events of last night you decide to stay in and wallow in self pity. Plus you have to console yourself before the dinner tonight with some music company executive that Mark kept droning on and on about on the flight over. You know this dinner is super important for his deal and no argument between the two will get in the way of that. So you swallow your hurt and anger, and decide to waste your time watching some random French drama. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday night 

At exactly 7pm Mark walks int through the front door. Of course he’s always 

The happy couple, you walk hand in hand into the restaurant. Mark’s manager greets you guys at the door, ushering you both to join the rest of the party inside.

 “Mark, I want you to meet Mr. Devon” his manager announces pushing Mark towards the older gentlemen. 

As he let go of your hand for what felt like the millionth time, your picture perfect dream was starting to crumble all around you. All the painful memories, all the nights he left you waiting around for him, all the times he put his work, friends, colleagues before you, all the broken promises and forgotten dates.. Yes, forgotten, like you had forgotten your friends like they were something to check off a to-do list. But at the end of the day, you couldn’t blame him, not really, no. Mark, he was only chasing after what was important to him, and that wasn’t you, not anymore.

With your head hung low, you quietly make your way to your seat. 

Once Mark is done making the rounds saying his hellos, he takes his seat next to you, intertwining his fingers with yours. And as you stare aimlessly down at your interlocked fingers, you catch a glimpse of the classouses on his hands from hours and hours of strumming his guitar mindlessly while writing lyrics. It then becomes painfully obvious to you, you don’t belong here, at least not with him, not now, it was time for you to let go, let him run as fast and far as he can, chasing after his dreams. Slowly removing your hand from his you plant a soft kiss on his cheek letting your lips linger for a second before you whisper your last words of the night to him  “I love you, I’m sorry for doing this to you tonight but I wish you the best Mark”. You walk out of the restaurant refusing to look back, too afraid that one look into his beautiful tear filled irises would make you crumble on the spot. 

Au revoir mon amour, if the universe wills it surely we’ll meet again. 

(Note: Hi 👋🏽 if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading for first ever fic. I started writing this based on Carrie & Miranda’s argument and then just let the story take me where ever. I’m thinking of maybe giving it a part 2, what do you think?)

[imaginethisisagoodname]

Here is a collection of random thoughts I got and don’t know what to do with (this is very long becuase I have a lot of thoughts)

• I know Kyborg has really bad hygiene and even in a modern AU it still would’ve been really bad, but I feel like it wouldn’t have been bad because he was just like a dude who didn’t like deodorant but because he was depressed since his family died(and he probably would’ve just had depression) and a lot of the time (from what I’ve seen) people who are depressed tend to let their hygiene slip away (I don’t know where I was going with this)

• *spoilers for Barts and sorta gum gums arc* Inku seemed like the only one of the big 4 that the interns were really scared of, like Kyborg was angry at Quadron, Mudd didn’t really think a lot about Suldge and Entropa seemed like more of a thing that they knew that they had to face, but they just seemed so scared of Inku and just like they really didn’t think they could defeat her and weren’t making as many jokes about it because they were actually worried which feels like a cool distinction that I can’t make sense of.

• sorta adding to my Kyborg thing, but I feel like he would have issues sleeping or even just sitting in silence/doing nothing because he would have really scary thoughts that made him stressed and sad so he would just try to block new thoughts from coming into his brain by just always having sound on and always doing something and he would either stay awake at night thinking about horrible things or just never sleep and always keep his brain busy until he literally passes out. (Also he would hate silence becuase that give his brain the opportunity to make bad thoughts)

• Second part to this is that i feel like in a modern AU this would translate to him always having headphones on and just blasting music to keep thoughts out of his head

• One really interesting difference between Kyborg and Mudd to me is that they’re both depressed and Mudd is suicidal because he doesn’t care about what’s going to happen if he dies and he really has nothing left to live for, and Kyborgs also depressed but no matter what he wants to stay alive because he has to stay alive becuase if he dies the he wasted his moms life.

• Mudd would totaly love baking and I feel like he would bake because he couldn’t sleep and didn’t have anything else to do

• And Brink would just randomly be a really good baker who like made cookies for the town and hosted bake sales

•Also I think Kyborg would try to bake becuase he was jealous of Mudd and Brink but would decide to go off recipe and just make the most horrific thing ever, like he would end up making lemon bars that were soggy on the bottom, but the lemon curd had the same texture as hard putty and then when people asked, would say that he just wanted to make them a bit more spongey or something

[caotictimmy]

This is going to be a long and important rant. Trigger warning for SA,Grooming, incest. Proshipping and stuff like that

I can’t believe I have to fucking say this. The problem tumbler has with normalizing and platforming proshippers and just incel ppl in general is disgusting. IF YOUR A PROSHIPPER, SUPPORT PRO SHIPPERS. GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY FUCKING PAGE. APPERENTLY I have to say this since I’m in the genshin and mouthwashing fandom. I was looking at one of my comments that had a weird name. I clicked on their account and they just reposted a lot of sissy content. I personally don’t like it but if it doesn’t involve anything disgusting like incest or rape I don’t care. But then I saw them repost smut of Percy Jackson. A GOD DAMN CHILD. I do not care if he is aged up. It is still gross and predatory. Especially if written by an adult. I get it if it was written by a minor. When I was younger I use to read stuff like that. But if you are a grown adult writing smut over a child no matter if you “aged” them up, you are a predator.

But back to the account. When I checked their following. The amount of proshipping accounts I saw almost made me throw up. The funny thing is the amount of whining and temper tantrums these people have.” WAHH WAHH THEY TOOK DOWN THE PROSHIPPING POLLS OF INCEST AND PEDOPHILIA PROSHIPS WAHH WAHH CURSE YOU SPAM REPORTERS.” I do not feel bad when these get taken down. Apparently this is a hot take. I fully support spam reporting incest, pedo and general proshipping stuff like that. I don’t care if it’s a rambling post or a full fledge fanfic. I don’t care if it’s character x character or x reader. I will happily report it with no guilt. “B-but t-they/I-I spent so long w-w-writing that.” DONT CAREEEEEE. Cause it’s not like this stuff doesn’t have an affect on people. When I was younger I use to read this stuff, that was how I thought relationships were supposed to be. Which ended up letting me get groomed by multiple people multiple times.

This stuff DOES AFFECT PEOPLE. This stuff being able to be put out and supported is harmful. You don’t even have to be a minor for this stuff to twist your views on relationships. There was this one person in that one persons following. I think their name was like proshipscara. One of their post was talking about “you don’t have to defend yourself for being a proshipper” their right you don’t. Because you are a disgusting person and NO defending can save your case.

And also before you brain dead basement dwelling defunked things go cry about “it’s a trauma response!” That does NOT make it ok whatsoever. It’s like saying it’s ok to scream and blow up on people, hit people, because it’s a trauma response. If this is helping your trauma which I highly doubt it. Keep this shit to yourself. Cause the amount of minors groomed into this is genuinely so sad. That probably my biggest reason why I hate pro shippers so much. Being a victim of it myself.

Please speak out about this, don’t just repost this or other anti proshipper posts. SPEAK UP. You can speak up about your hate for proshippers, speak up about the affects that happened. SPEAK UP! Cause this is a rampant problem. You can also help without speaking up. Report and block any proship accounts. Even if they don’t call themselves proshippers. If you see them posting incest, grooming, SA, in a positive light, report and block them.

Anyways thanks if you read all this I hope you have a good day! And if any proshippers wanna go cry in my comments or try and harrase me. Just try I’d love the good laugh.

[sweetpayaso]

🤡 PSA: PLEASE READ 🤡

Before I go do some cleaning, I wanted to get this off my chest. No, this isn’t another impulsive vent post, in fact, it will be my last post regarding last night’s events.

I have felt incredibly guilty ever since I vented about a particular ship. It was never my intent, as I’ve said before, to shut down others’ work simply because I don’t like it. Yes, I do not like Jack x Jeff, but I don’t hate or have anything against people who do, and I feel some may have taken my feelings on the subject a bit personal. People here are just trying to have fun, right?

My relationship with Laughing Jack, who yes, I am aware is a fictional character, is complicated. I don’t necessarily view myself as a casual Jack selfshipper, but the ones who are casual shippers are some of the coolest people I have ever met, and I have never once thought of my love for Jack as superior to theirs.

I responded by trauma dumping to a user I have never talked with before who questioned the state of my health when it came to Jack, which after a moot pointed out, realized that wasn’t the appropriate response to someone who might have just been showing genuine concern, even if it came off a bit rude initially. I don’t do well without tone indicators sometimes, so please forgive me. My hostility comes from a near decade of unhealthily bottling my mental health issues, because my mom never got me the care I needed, only threats to a psych ward.

I want to change; I realize my trauma dumping isn’t doing me or anyone else any favors, but when you have no money, no ability to drive, no other outlets, in a world that often shuns people like you, my options are very limited. I’ve had no luck finding a therapist for every issue I may have; this has been my coping mechanism since I was 15. I’m autistic, and still don’t feel like I ever aged mentally past 15 because of it. I was never given the tools I needed to be an adult, so I regress often. It’s the only thing I can think to do when shit goes south.

But enough with the pity story, I really just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Yeah, may not mean much, but, I really am sorry for everything, whether it’s being jealous over something I can’t control, or just being an awful friend.

I really am trying to get better, it’s just taking longer than I’ve planned for it to, because of things constantly getting pushed back.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Heyy Nausicaa!!

I love all of your fics, you're an amazing writer!

So, could you do a fic about mop era James hetfield and the reader? They r best friends and the reader gets a bf and James doesn't like him bc he's toxic but the reader doens't see him as toxic. They get in a fight outside the bar she told James about her bf and James is drunk telling the reader how he could be a better bf than her current bf is. The fight ends when the reader starts walking to her bf's house and James runs to her bc he doens't want her to go there. Soo they walk to james' apartment. At the apartment James agrees to sleep on the couch so the reader coul sleep in his room. They go to sleep but James can't sleep so he sneaks in his bedroom where the reader is sleeping and lays next to her and cuddles her. The next morning they wake up in each others arms and the reader finally comes to her senses about her current bf that he's toxic. Then she breaks up with him over the phone. James is real happy and then they cuddle some more and then... Suprise suprise they get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 😏🤭

Thank you so much, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mature themes, sexual content, emotional intensity, toxic relationship,

Breaking Through

James Hetfield had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We’d been through it all together—the wild nights, the heavy conversations, the laughter, and even the silence that spoke louder than words. Our friendship had always been easy, natural, and unspoken in a way that felt comfortable. We didn’t need to say it, but we both knew we’d always have each other’s backs.

And then there was him. My boyfriend.

It started innocently enough, just a guy who caught my attention. At first, he seemed perfect—charming, funny, easygoing. We fit together, or so I thought. But James hated him. And that wasn’t something I was used to. James wasn’t a guy who hated easily. If anything, he gave people the benefit of the doubt. But not this guy. And at first, I didn’t get it. I thought he was just being overprotective. But the more I ignored his warnings, the more I started to feel it in my gut—something wasn’t right.

I should’ve listened to him.

Tonight, the tension had reached a breaking point. I found myself outside a bar, feeling a little too buzzed from the drinks I’d had, standing in front of James, ready to tell him everything about the latest drama in my relationship. I thought I could keep it casual, tell him I was fine, but James had other plans.

We stood under the glow of the streetlight, the night air crisp against my skin. James leaned against the brick wall of the bar, cigarette in hand, but he wasn’t smoking. He was just looking at me with those blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

“Hey,” I said, trying to break the silence.

“Hey,” he replied, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. His gaze didn’t leave me. “What’s going on? You look... off.”

I shrugged, playing it off. “Just the usual stuff. My boyfriend’s being weird, but you know, it’s fine.”

James pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re not fine, Y/N. I can see it. You’re not fine.”

I froze. There it was again—his ability to see straight through me. He always had it, but tonight, it hit differently.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to mask the nerves in my voice.

“Don’t lie to me,” James said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m your friend. I know when something’s wrong.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’re with him, but you’re not happy. Why are you staying in something that’s pulling you down?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. How could I explain it to him? How could I tell him that I didn’t want to face the truth? That maybe, just maybe, he was right?

“Y/N,” James continued, stepping closer again, his voice lower now, “You deserve better than this guy. He doesn’t care about you the way you think he does. I can see it, and you can too, if you’d just let yourself.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “You don’t know him like I do, James. He’s not perfect, but he’s mine.”

James took a sharp breath. His expression was tight now, frustrated. “That’s the problem, Y/N. He’s dragging you down. And you deserve better than this. I care about you more than he ever will, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you get hurt.”

His words landed like a slap, but they weren’t angry—just raw. And for the first time, I realized just how much he really meant it. This wasn’t about him wanting me for himself—this was about him wanting me to be happy, wanting me to be free from something that was suffocating me.

I stepped back, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My heart pounded, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

“You know I’m right,” James said quietly. “I could be a better boyfriend to you than he ever could.”

My breath caught. Was he serious? He had always been there for me—sure, he’d always been my friend—but this was different. This was… something else.

“James…” My voice faltered. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But James shook his head, a frustrated, pained expression crossing his face. “I’m not drunk, Y/N. I’m not. I’m just telling you what I see. And what I see is you settling for someone who doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

I felt a sharp sting in my chest, my mind reeling. I had no idea how to respond, so instead of saying anything, I just turned away. The cold night air hit my face as I started walking, desperate to get away from the conversation, away from everything.

But James wasn’t having it. “Where are you going?” he called after me, his voice urgent.

I didn’t answer, just kept walking in the direction of my boyfriend’s house.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” he said, his footsteps loud behind me. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I felt my frustration rise. “I’m fine, James. I’m going to him. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said, voice firm. “You’re my best friend. I care about you more than anything, and I won’t just stand by and watch you walk into a situation that’s gonna hurt you. I’m not letting you go there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to process the weight of his words. Everything inside me wanted to keep going, to ignore what he was saying, but a part of me was scared. Scared of what I was doing, scared of what James was saying.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking a little. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I stopped walking, my body trembling with the weight of everything. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared of the relationship I was in, scared of how tangled I had gotten in something that wasn’t good for me.

I turned around slowly, looking at James. He was standing a few feet behind me, his hands clenched at his sides, his expression softening. For the first time in a long time, I saw it. The care, the love, the pure concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t go.”

James exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Without a word, he started walking toward me. “I’ll take you back to my place. We’ll talk it through. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

When we reached his apartment, James didn’t push. He just opened the door and let me step inside. The familiarity of the space, the comfort of it, felt strange in the best way. I was used to this place, but tonight, it felt different.

“You can sleep in my room,” James said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll take the couch. I won’t push you to talk if you don’t want to.”

I nodded, too emotionally drained to protest. I needed space, but I also needed comfort. I slipped into his room, wrapping myself in the warmth of his bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Eventually, I felt the bed shift. A warmth spread beside me, and I froze. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was—James, his face relaxed as he laid down beside me, his arm gently around my waist.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to. It felt right. It felt safe. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and let myself rest, my mind swirling with everything that had happened, but somehow feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the window. I turned over slowly, and there he was—James, still holding me close, his arm wrapped around me protectively. For a moment, I just lay there, taking in the peacefulness of the moment.

I didn’t know how to put it into words, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. My relationship had been toxic. I had known about it for a while, but I hadn’t wanted to face it. Now, with James here, so close, so real, I finally understood.

I reached for the phone and dialed my boyfriend’s number.

When he answered, I didn’t hesitate. “It’s over,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m done.”

 The phone call had ended, but the weight of my past relationship still hung in the air like a fog. I felt lighter, yes, but also raw—exposed in a way I hadn’t been before. And there James was, standing close, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity in his eyes seemed to say everything, everything I hadn’t been able to put into words. At that moment, I didn’t need words.

His arms pulled me close, his chest rising and falling against mine as he held me tightly. His warmth was intoxicating, grounding me. And with every breath I took, I felt a part of me slip away—the burdens, the doubts. But what remained? That unmistakable pull between us.

“You don’t have to carry that anymore, Y/N,” James murmured into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers trailed gently down my back, soothing and steady.

I nodded, the words a comfort, even though they didn’t fully capture everything I was feeling. The relief was there, but there was also something else—a deep, almost dizzying awareness of him. The way his body felt against mine, the heat that seemed to radiate from him, pulling me in closer with every passing second.

And then, without thinking, I tilted my head up, closing the distance between us, and kissed him.

It started slow, tentative, as if we were both testing the waters. His lips were soft, but there was an urgency behind them, a hunger that matched mine. I felt myself melting into him, responding with equal intensity. His hands found their way to my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My body pressed flush against his, and I could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his skin, the solidness of his muscles. It sent a shock of electricity through me.

When we pulled back, James stood before me, his eyes locked on mine, a question lingering in his gaze.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he’s giving me room to decide.

I smile, my heart racing a little faster with the closeness between us. “You’re not,” I reply softly, taking a step toward him. My fingers hover over the collar of his shirt, and I slowly unbutton the first one, the motion deliberate. Each button undone feels like the quiet shedding of a barrier between us, a promise that we’re both ready for this.

His eyes follow my hands as I slowly remove his shirt, the fabric sliding off his shoulders and falling to the floor. There’s a moment where we just stand there, looking at each other, as if taking in the enormity of what’s happening.

I reach for the hem of my own shirt, pulling it off slowly, the cool air against my skin sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his gaze on me, warm and searching, but there’s no judgment. Just a deep, unspoken understanding between us.

James steps closer, his hand brushing against my bare skin as he tugs gently at the waistband of my jeans. He pauses for a moment, looking at me, asking for permission with just the look in his eyes. I nod, my hands moving to help him, pushing the jeans down over my hips.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor fills the room, and for a moment, there’s nothing else but the warmth of his body just inches away, the air heavy with anticipation. His hands move to my back, slowly undoing the clasp of my bra, his fingers light but sure. I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach, but they quickly settle as he brushes the straps off my shoulders. We’re moving slowly, methodically, as if neither of us wants to rush this moment.

I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart under my fingertips as I trace the lines of his body. I can feel the heat between us, the way our bodies naturally gravitate toward one another. The last of his clothes fall to the floor, and we’re both standing there, exposed to one another, the air thick with something deeper than just desire.

He pulls me close, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss, a slow exploration that speaks more than words ever could. I press closer, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles shift as he moves.

Slowly, I guide him toward the bed, crawling beneath the soft covers, my heart racing as I feel the weight of him beside me. He follows, his body pressing against mine in the most comforting way. The warmth of his skin against mine feels like the world stopping, like everything has led to this moment.

 The room is warm, the air thick with the heat of our bodies pressed together. James hovers just above me, his chest rising and falling quickly, and I can feel his presence in every part of me. His body against mine is a perfect weight, pressing me into the soft sheets, and I can’t help but respond to every tiny shift of his.

His gaze locks with mine, dark and intense, and his lips are just inches from my neck. There’s a brief pause as he takes in the moment, making sure I’m comfortable, his fingers brushing over my skin as he adjusts himself, moving just a little closer. His breath falters, and I feel the subtle tension in him.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he shifts—his body fitting against mine, his breath hot against my skin as he thrusts, just enough to send a wave of heat through me. The feeling is intense, unexpected, and before I can even catch my breath, a soft moan escapes my lips, my body reacting to him instinctively.

James freezes for a split second, his breath shaky, eyes searching mine. His hands move to my waist, guiding me gently as he shifts again, adjusting himself to settle into a rhythm that feels even better, deeper. He looks down at me, and I can see the flicker of desire in his eyes, the way he’s trying to hold back, but can’t help but let his body respond to mine.

“You okay?” His voice is strained, barely above a whisper, and I feel the weight of his concern, the tenderness in his touch.

I nod, my voice barely audible, “Yes…” My fingers dig into his shoulders as I pull him closer, urging him to keep going, to keep moving.

James moves again, this time just a little deeper, his breath coming quicker as he adjusts, finding that perfect place where we’re both completely connected. My body reacts, my muscles tightening as I gasp softly, a quiet moan escaping my lips at the sensation.

His breathing becomes faster, more ragged, and I can feel him trembling slightly as he moves again, his hips shifting in perfect rhythm with mine. Every motion, every touch feels like it’s pulling us deeper, and I feel every inch of him, the way his body presses into mine, the way his hands hold me gently yet firmly.

I let out another soft moan, louder this time, unable to hold it back. My body arches up to meet him, my fingers digging into his back as he moves in a slow, deliberate rhythm, deepening the connection between us with each shift. His breath is hot against my neck, his chest pressing against mine, and the sensation is overwhelming, making my heart race even faster.

His voice is low, strained as he leans in, brushing his lips across my jawline. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire, and I feel a jolt of warmth race through me at the sound of it.

I pull him closer, my hands tangling in his hair, as my body responds to him with every slow, deep thrust. The pressure inside me builds, every shift of his body sending waves of pleasure through me. And with each movement, I can hear the soft gasps and moans slipping from my lips, the sound of our breathing quickening as we move together in perfect sync.

I can feel him tremble slightly as he adjusts again, his movements becoming more deliberate, more urgent. He shifts again, deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes me, my voice breaking slightly as my body reacts to him, the intensity building between us.

“James…” I gasp, barely able to get his name out, and my hands tighten around him as the tension inside me becomes almost unbearable. The way he moves, the way he adjusts to match me, brings us closer, and I feel myself getting closer to the edge with each thrust, each movement.

And then, as the pressure inside me reaches its peak, I let out a soft cry, my body shuddering as I reach that moment, that release. James follows closely behind, his breath shaky as he moves with me, his hands gentle on my skin, holding me close as we both come undone.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing heavily, our bodies still connected, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. His forehead rests against mine, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, a steady reminder that we’re both here, together.

He brushes his lips over my forehead, a tender, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?” he asks again, his voice soft, almost a whisper now.

I smile softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his back as I nod, my voice breathless. “Perfect.”

James pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me as we lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. The world outside seems so far away now, and all that matters is the gentle rise and fall of our chests, the warmth of his body next to mine, and the quiet peace we’ve found in each other.

But then, just as the last remnants of the moment linger between us, James lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine with a new intensity. His thumb gently strokes my cheek, and his voice drops to a hushed whisper.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he says softly, the words full of promise, raw with emotion. “And I won’t ever let anyone harm you. Not now, not ever. You’re safe with me.”

His lips meet mine in a slow, lingering kiss—full of tenderness, full of everything he’s just spoken. And in that kiss, I feel the truth of his words, the depth of his emotions, and a quiet certainty that nothing could ever take this from us.

As the kiss ends, I whisper softly, my voice full of gratitude, “Thank you, Jamie…”

He smiles against my lips, the warmth of it reaching all the way to my heart. His hand rests on my cheek for a moment, then moves to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Slowly, he lowers his head, resting it on my chest, his body curling into mine.

I run my fingers through his hair, gently stroking it, savoring the quiet peace between us. The sound of his breathing slows, becoming steady and calm as I hold him close, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still, just us—together.

[dragon-gem]

… I was inspired okay.

—

Zane shifted in his seat, discomfort mixing with anxiety inside of him. I wish this was over with already.

It was only him and Pixal today. The others were off doing other things, and although he’d offered to join them, she had been insistent.

You haven’t undergone any maintenance in 60 years, Zane. You must slow down for one moment so I can assess your systems.

Except that he didn’t want to slow down, didn’t want to think too hard about all those years. Slowing down meant having time to consider. Slowing down meant allowing the guilt to consume him.

Zane had never wanted to erase his own memory so badly as he had in the last few weeks.

“I will be as quick as I can, I promise.” Pixal glanced over at him and smiled, her green eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights of the garage.

“I know. I’ve just been putting it off.” Zane forced himself to sit still as she came over, putting a hand over his chest compartment before pressing the button to open it. “I feel fine, you know.”

“I am sure you do. But that amount of time without maintenance must have been difficult on your circuits. I’m just going to assess the damage and what repairs will need to be done.”

He laid back so she could see, staring up at the stone ceiling. “It… was a bit of time, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Pixal stopped, her voice filled with… was that hesitation? “Zane, did your internal heater stop functioning?”

“I usually have no need of it. My temperature gauge is a bit off, but beyond that…” Zane stopped, glancing over at her. “Why do you ask?”

“There is… ice.”

“What?”

“You have ice coating your circuits,” she clarified, her eyes finally meeting his. “Have you been running slower than normal?”

“Maybe? I haven’t noticed. How bad is it?”

Pixal sighed. “I have to run a full diagnostic. Zane, I’ve never seen your powers affect you like this.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, letting her plug him into the computer and blinking at the flow of information that came across his vision. Mission reports, blueprints, information from all over Ninjago City…

It was dizzying. He never liked being online— conscious when he was plugged into the computers.

Zane shut his eyes, blocking the flow. “I wasn’t myself, Pixal. I couldn’t control my abilities. I…” I did horrible things, my love. So many terrible things. I don’t even want to tell you about them because I know you’ll despise me.

I despise myself. I didn’t protect anyone. All I did was destroy.

Pixal must have sensed his thoughts, because she put a hand on his shoulder. “You must not blame yourself, Zane. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I shouldn’t have been so corruptible, shouldn’t have allowed my powers to be used that way.” He shuddered. “I remember it all, Pixal. Every moment. Every person I froze. Every scream… I have violated my base code.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, a warmth filtering through him as she turned on his internal heater. How long had it been since he’d turned that on? It must have turned off at some point while he was—

No, best not to dwell on it.

“I refuse to believe it was your fault.” Pixal finally said. “Look at me, Zane.”

He opened his eyes, focusing on her face. Every line, every carefully smoothed out bump and scratch. She was familiar to him, as familiar as his powers had been.

At least up until he had used them only to terrorize and destroy for 60 years. Now, he could hardly recognize himself.

Pixal smiled, touching his cheek gently. “I don’t blame you for what happened, Zane. None of us do.”

“I am a monster, Pixal,” Zane whispered, hating the words as soon as they fell from his mouth. “I ki—“

“No. It wasn’t you.”

“It was my hands. My powers. I should have tried to fight it, I should have at least tried to resist the scroll.”

“You did. You almost hurt Lloyd, and you didn’t do it, remember?”

“Because he said my name. If he hadn’t…”

“Lloyd is fine. The people of the Never Realm will be fine. It is you I am worried about.”

Zane fell silent, watching as her attention turned back to his frost bitten insides. “I was the Ice Emperor longer than I’ve been a ninja, you know. I’m older than you now. Much older.”

“I know, but you’ve always been older than me. You are the outdated model, remember?” Pixal’s tone was teasing, but even he caught the undercurrent of sadness. She doesn’t like this any more than I do.

“Not to worry, Zane, I’ve always liked older men.” Pixal smiled at him before looking down again, her fingers stilling their repairs. “I only wish I had been able to do something to stop this from happening to you.”

He shook his head. “I would have only hurt you, Pixal. I don’t want that— I’ve never wanted that.”

Pixal pressed a button on the computer, and the dizzying spread of information finally stopped scrolling across his vision. Thank the FSM. “I would do anything to get you back, Zane. Fate seems to enjoy separating us, and I am beginning to get tired of it.”

Zane managed a smile. “Perhaps this will be the last time.”

“One can only hope.”

Silence fell over the two of them as she continued to work, more of a comfortable silence than anything else.

Maybe it wasn’t truly the act of forgetting that I wanted, he mused, staring up at the ceiling once again. Maybe it is the privilege of being able to cry.

YOU KNOW WHAT I WOULD'VE LOVED TO SEE? THE IMPACT OF ZANE BEING THE ICE EMPEROR FOR 60 YEARS.

HE WAS THE ICE EMPEROR LONGER THAN HE'S BEEN A NINJA.

HE KILLED ALMOST ALL OF THE YETIS. HE FROZE THE FORMLING VILLAGE. HE CORRUPTED THE SAMURAI. All of that goes against his base directive - to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I NEED to see the emotional impact on Zane, and eventually the rest of the team. Bonus points if it comes with seeing the impact on Zane's body, since he definitely didn't get any maintenance in his time in the Never-Realm.

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[dykedvonte]

My post about Anya is making like a little ruckus on Twitter and I think it’s crazy how many people like have a problem with it.

Like you don’t have to agree with how I characterize Anya and her actions but it’s more like, why are you focused on only one aspect of her character? Why are you removing nuance from the situation? I don’t see it as giving Curly the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing better for Anya, but as exploring his character and hers relationship with a the very little authentic facts we get about them. In truth, there’s a lot more I wish Curly did, even if it wasn’t pragmatic but I realize the issue there.

The first psychological horror game in a while that’s real intricate in its storytelling and makes you need to really need to address the morality of intentions and its already getting torn asunder smh 😔

[evansbby]

my opinion on the Blake lively situation

[wewillbeseen-butnotbeheard]

thank you for the understanding. i apologise if i appear as a “burden” (for this community, for whatever reason it may be) but if this is a civilised discussion then i need to get this off my chest

obviously i went on a streak of attempting to revile a lot of different pages/accounts on here. i assume some people noticed (i have dozens of asks since yesterday). it’s not the first time, i did it once over a month ago; albeit not as thoroughly as right now.

i have been met with a fair amount of genuine concern and empathy since, and at this point i feel bad for it again. it was only because i reached a point where i thought i would be better off with burning bridges with my own account as so i wouldn’t be welcomed here/whatever else. i’m tired of attempting to move on and failing because i just can’t seem to

but anyway. sorry for ranting (although this may be a rant) i think this is more relevant

i have a brief idea of my own position on this kind of thing, so i’m going to explain as simple as i can. i want to be an animal. probably my entire life it’s been something that i’ve “had” even if i didn’t realise that until recently. it was probably the one constant that shaped me as an individual when i was a little younger. it’s only ~RECENTLY that it’s progressively became a lot stronger as a desire. it’s put me in a situation where i have a lot of strong emotions about a lot of things

so i don’t TRY to be hateful to this community but it becomes overpowering sometimes and i can’t help it, even if i should.

there’s a notion that i come across often, that i’m “repressed”, or “in denial” or anything along those lines. i’ve had it been said to me by people that are probably genuinely important within this community/people that i happen to “look up to” as furries. it feeds into my own disdain for these spaces. let me explain. i don’t think i’m in denial, i don’t feel like it. i genuinely WISH i was in denial. the idea that i’m “denying myself” implies that i “am” a fox or whatever else. yet it only angers me because i would be better off i was in denial with myself. i don’t think i am.

it could come off as “not wanting to be those things”. but i likely say a lot of stuff that could be interpreted strangely. it is in my own nature to want to be an animal, so i would TAKE anything to get me closer to that, no matter how small (that doesn’t mean i would settle on it). I FIND IT HARD to accept this community as things are simply, because the idea that one can “be an animal” and i’m human feels like a punch to the gut. i was afraid of ever typing that out because i’m afraid it sounds immature, but it doesn’t come from a place of immaturity any more than anything else.

because when you start describing “nonhuman/s/etc. as “literally animals” then for me, the thought of wanting to be an animal comes into play. i yearn to be a PHYSICAL animal yet i would give almost just as much to be closer to it in any other regard. it’s only the stigma that i’ve built around “nonhumanity” that stray me from “wanting” to be it. (alongside just; not being one anyway.)

being told to accept myself hurts, because it implies that there is something to accept; or a prospect of getting closer to the concept of being something else. yet i can’t FIND it. i would jump at the first glimpse of that opportunity, as i have been trying to, but i can’t understand it.

i was called a fox in one of the asks, and (i’m sorry to get vulnerable, not as if i haven’t already) a tear literally ran down my face. i’m hardly an emotional person like that. i said not to call me anything like that, and i’m pretty sure they sent another apologising “i’m sorry for assuming what to call you” and i’m not going to lie. reading that felt like having my own guts emptied out. the point is, it’s my fault

ANYWAY. that was a lot of words. i’m sorry for dumping all of this onto here. but i hope that made it clear what i mean/am saying. once again, i don’t think i necessarily deserve forgiveness of any kind despite this. sorry. i hope i didn’t misinterpret anything, thank you for giving me a chance to discuss this and i hope this was coherent.

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.