#No I will not take constructive criticism

[asiatic-apple]

Omg hii! Congrats on 200! I was wondering if the ask for the event is still open? I was hoping to ask for smut prompt 11 (quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials) with zayne. Thank you! I hope you're having a wonderful day! Congrats on 200!

Thank youuu 💕 Tbh I’m not sure if I captured zayne properly here since this is my first time writing smut for him 🙈 so please feel free to leave any constructive criticism. I hope this is to your liking though!

Mid-shift fix

Zayne x female reader

Prompt: quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials

Content: sex in a public place (no one sees it), slightly mean dom zayne, brat tamer zayne, “sweetheart” used as a pet name for reader, also he calls you a “brat” and a “naughty girl” (i’m sorry if this is an ick), creampie and pulling the panties over afterwards

Zayne should be diligently reviewing patient files. Instead, he’s got you pinned to the wall of his office, your panties hastily shoved to the side and your cunt squeezing around his cock with every ragged breath you take.

His crisp dress pants are barely pulled down. Your blouse is half unbuttoned from how frantically he’d fumbled to feel your skin. The only thing keeping you upright is his solid frame pressing you against the wall—and his harsh grip, fingers digging into one plush thigh as he keeps you wrapped tight around him. His other hand is braced against the wall beside your head, nearly clawing at it as he tries not to lose his mind completely.

“You have approximately five minutes,” he says sternly, even though his voice is rough with desire. “Make it count.”

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders and creasing his pristine white shirt. “You’re the one who interrupted our lunch together,” you tease breathlessly.

Zayne hums a low, humorless sound. “Because you were mouthing off all through lunch. Testing my patience.”

You try to retort, but the way he slams back inside you turns your words to a soft, garbled cry. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and sex, thanks to the sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies—and the coupling of your slick arousal that forms a creamy ring around his cock. He glides in and out of you too easily, the wet sound of it loud enough to make your skin prickle with the fear that someone passing by outside might hear the suspicious sounds.

“I can’t focus when there’s a brat in my office,” he says through gritted teeth, punctuating the statement with a sharp thrust that makes you moan. “But it seems you like to misbehave when you’re with me.”

His voice stays soft even in this moment, still measured and clinical as he reprimands you. It makes your spine go stiff and your cunt clench harder around him. He smirks when he feels it. “Such a naughty girl.”

Even though he teases you for being needy, you can feel him twitch inside you, getting closer with each delicious thrust. He groans against your neck, breath hot and uneven. When he’s this close to your skin, he can’t help but nip at it, leaving small love bites all over you.

“Your time is almost up, sweetheart,” he whispers near your ear, breath tickling your skin when he chuckles at your increasing whines.

Zayne slides a hand between your bodies to rub your clit in tight, punishing circles. It’s not slow or indulgent—just efficient, deliberate. It’s the way he does everything when he’s at work. Like he knows exactly how to get you to crumble in the least amount of time. And he’s succeeding.

“Be good for me now,” he mutters, pace increasing as your legs tremble around him. “Come on my cock so I can get back to work.”

You can’t help but listen when he gets like this—scarily authoritative in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s clear he’s solely focused on punishing you with an orgasm that is too fast, too fleeting to fully satisfy you. And then he’ll send you home with a wet, sticky reminder of your misbehavior seeping through your panties and trailing down your thighs.

Still, you can’t stop the pleasure that rolls through you. Your body tenses, mouth open in a silent cry as your orgasm turns your body to jelly.

Zayne curses, biting his bottom lip to stay quiet, but his controlled thrusts falter with the way your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through it, chasing his own high now with quick, shallow thrusts. And then he buries himself deep and chants your name like a prayer as he pulses inside you.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. He just leans into you, forehead resting against yours and breath fanning across your lips. His cum drips out of you in slow, warm rivulets the moment he pulls out with a soft groan. Then he carefully sets you down on shaky legs and pulls your panties back up over the mess to keep it all smeared against your puffy folds.

There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he fixes your skirt and blouse with those precise fingers of his. No matter how much you try, everyone will see how thoroughly fucked you are when you walk out of the hospital. But no one will dare say a word to the girlfriend of the esteemed Doctor Li.

“You should go,” he says quietly, already adjusting his own clothes and reaching for the files on his desk.

At first, you think he’s back to his usual cold, strictly professional self. But before you can turn, he cups your jaw and kisses you slowly. His lips mold against yours with more reverence than the clash of teeth from a few minutes ago. He has to use all his willpower to eventually pull away and leave you panting softly.

“I’ll text you when I’m done with work,” he says, brushing his thumb under your lip in a poor attempt to quell the desire to kiss you again. “I’ll be more thorough with your punishment when I come home.”

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dividers by me (please do not repost)

[bapeach]

Fast break feelings

Sorry for not posting much lately, writing hasn't been easy. So here's a short and sweet story, hope y'all like it! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader Word count: 1.5k+ Summary: Paige, the confident superstar on the court, gets shy when her crush is near.

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

When you first met Paige in your human development class, you thought she was cute in a platonic way. She’d walked into class looking incredibly cozy in a lilac sweatsuit with her matching purple glasses, with a soft smile and sleepy eyes. Even though she was the most famous girl in school, she didn’t act like she was better than anyone. You never really cared for sports but still thought it was cool that the blonde was bringing a lot of attention to basketball. She seemed like she deserved the praise too.

Paige walked over to her assigned seat next to you, giving you a tiny nod, her lips relaxed into a small smile. You smiled sweetly at her before focusing your attention on the professor. While most classes started with lame icebreakers, this professor didn’t care about them and instead simply started teaching. Meaning Paige didn’t learn your first name until a few weeks into the school year, after many small nods and smiles and a few “Can I borrow a pen?” moments, when you were put into pairs of two for a project. 

“Hi, I’m Paige, by the way,” was the first thing she said as she turned towards you and held out her hand. “Oh, I know, Superstar,” you’d grinned with a playful twinkle in your eye. “I’m Y/N.” Though you didn’t realize it back then, that handshake marked the start of the slowly growing crush between you two.

Quiet study sessions in the library turned into movie nights in the comfort of your dorm, cuddled up together (in a friendly way) on your couch, your hearts starting to beat as one. 

---------

While Paige exudes confidence and charisma on the basketball court and in front of cameras, she’s pretty shy in person. Whereas she prefers peaceful nights in, you shine the brightest on a night out in the club. You don’t mind her shyness, though, you actually think it’s kind of sweet. You love seeing her cheeks turn a soft pink as she fumbles over her words when you give her a tight hug. Seeing her turn away with a flustered smile as you compliment her with a flirty wink always sends butterflies through your stomach. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize you have a big fat crush on her, and once you did, you quickly noticed the blonde’s crush as well. Now, you could’ve just asked her out on a date, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, you up the flirty comments, the lingering touches, and the doe-eyed “I’m so in love with you” looks. During binge marathons, you cuddle Paige a bit closer, at lunch, you plop into her lap without batting an eye, and the selfies with cheeky comments you send her get a bit riskier every time.

While the athlete usually runs her mouth and talks trash like her life depends on it, she can barely give a compliment without stuttering or doubting herself. She’s also one of the most clueless people you know. You flirt with her like there’s no tomorrow for 2 weeks before you grow impatient and pull out all the stops. 

You’re walking next to Paige as you make your way out of your class. You listen to her ramble about her latest practice before linking your pinky with hers. The blonde gets tongue-tied at the unexpected touch, looking at you with her eyes wide. You give her a sweet smile as you nod at what she’s saying. Heat creeps up her neck and turns her ears red as you tilt your head innocently.

You pull her to the side of the hallway, out of the stream of students, before pulling out a small mirror and reapplying your lip gloss. You take your time, watching Paige out of the corner of your eye as her eyes dart to the shine on your lips. She bites her lip for a moment before standing up a bit straighter.

“Gotcha,” you think as you try not to smirk.

“Hey, so, uh, I was thinking that, uh… Maybe, if you want, we could go to, like,… a restaurant or something?” Paige stammers as she scratches her neck. Her face turns an even brighter color as she realizes how stupid she sounds. You bite your lip as you try not to laugh at her struggling.

“You want to go get food right now?” You ask, batting your lashes at her, pretending you don’t know what she means. You know you shouldn’t tease her too much and just be glad she finally got the courage to ask you out, but you can’t help it. Seeing this nervous version of her is just too adorable to just let go.

“No, I mean, like… We should get dinner sometime… Just the two of us… together.” You watch her throat as she swallows nervously. “What, like a date?” You ask as you try to catch her eye. Paige pauses for a moment, her eyes trained on the floor, before she shakes her head with a frown.

“I-... You know what, never mind… I need to go,” she says before quickly stepping away from you. You reach out your hand to pull her closer again, but you don’t get the chance as she disappears into the crowd passing by. “Paige, hold up!” You say, but it’s too late. You facepalm softly before letting out a tiny laugh. How can she be such a big, tough basketball player, yet also such a sweet, shy girl? How can she be so brilliant on the court and in school, yet still be such an oblivious idiot when it comes to you?

When you text the blonde later that night to ask if she wants to come over for a movie night, she declines the invitation with the excuse of having a lot of homework. You shrug it off, knowing that the girl has a habit of leaving her work until the last minute. When Paige is “too busy” to hang out for the 5th day in a row, you’re done with her lies.

You plan on going straight to her dorm after class when you see her walking ahead of you in the hallways. You speed up a bit until you’re right next to her before bumping your shoulder against hers. The taller girl immediately turns towards you to apologize (even though you bumped into her) before realizing it’s you. The color immediately drains from her face as she looks around for an excuse to get away.

“There you are! I haven’t seen you in ages. You left mid-convo last time I saw you,” you say as you playfully roll your eyes, but you make sure to give her a big grin. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles as she quickens her step. You simply loop your arm around hers as you bring her back to your speed. “So… when and where?” You casually ask, leaning even more into her personal space as you move out of the way for another student. 

“I- What?” Paige asks, her breath hitching as the smell of your perfume enters her nose. “You wanted to get dinner, right? Or do you not want to anymore? I mean, that would be fine, but if you do, I’d really love to go,” you reply calmly, holding eye contact so she knows you mean it. “Wait, you really wanna go?” She asks, an excited but slightly unsure grin forming on her face as she looks down at the strings of her hoodie. “What, like a date?” You repeat the question you asked a few days ago. 

The blonde’s eyes snap towards you, a small huff leaving her lips once she sees your teasing smile. She rolls her eyes before bringing you both to a stop in an empty corner. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not,” she mumbles, chewing nervously on one of her hoodie strings.

You lean up, pulling the string out of her mouth and straightening her hood. “You’re always so nervous around me…” you sigh softly, staring at the cords as you twirl one around your finger. 

“It’s just me,” you reassure her in a low voice. “Ask me again.” Once you look back into her bright blue eyes, Paige swallows once before speaking, “Y/N… Will you go on a date with me?”

You give her a loving smile as you reply, “I’d love nothing more, P.” You lean forward, getting on your tippy-toes, as you press a small kiss against the blonde’s rapidly reddening cheek. You don’t tease her this time, instead grabbing her hand and pulling her back into the hallway as you guide her towards your dorm. You don’t have to look at her to know her eyes are sparkling and her bottom lip is stuck between her teeth as she tries to hold back a big smile.

As your hands swing between your bodies, you ramble about a new show you found that you two just have to watch, making Paige realize she’d been so nervous for no reason. When you make eye contact with her, you simply wink at her like this is the most normal thing in the world.

[diamondsinterlude]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝

chapter one

pairing: Sammie Moore x OC (Robin Welkins)

word count — 2,345

summary — 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘰. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 1933 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 1932.

warnings — period appropriate racism, violence, trauma, use of N-word, angst, depression, ptsd, talks of sex, (idk if I’ll write smut yet but if a chapter includes it there will be a warning) pro has spell or grammar errors

authors note — please bare with me I’m not the best writer. There isn’t a lot of preacher boy/sammie fanfics and the idea just came to me one day! Please give me your thoughts, I take constructive criticism (don’t be mean please) reblog if you like it!

“You will taste the sweet taste of death, we will make beautiful music together.”

Sammie wakes up feeling like there isn’t enough breath in his lungs. These dreams are taking over his brain. The dreams about that night, the night that went from the best of his life to the worst.

Keep thinking about how in the span of a day his life completely changed. Hell all the people in the towns life had changed. He didn’t have his cousins no more. They were basically his big brothers, both being there for him in different ways despite being older than him.

Stack pushing him to do his music not just cause of the profit he would make off Sammie but because he knew the boy loved music. Convincing Smoke to give Sammie their dad’s guitar, even if the one who played it before him was evil. He knew Sammie had something special even before he opened his mouth and sung for him in that car. Smoke was an asshole especially for hitting him in the nose with that gun. But Sammie knew after all they went through that he just wanted him to have a better life than the brothers. Not just being happy but being safe most importantly. Making him think the opening night would be his last time preforming. Pushed him to not go to Chicago cause of what they experienced down there.

The people of the town didn’t have the Chows grocery stores to go to anymore, so they probably had to go to Mr. Cartwright’s store instead. Expensive ass groceries that he knows most of the black folks in town can’t even afford. Little Lisa didn’t have her parents anymore.

They didn’t have Annie for those who didn’t believe her practice was of the devil and her work helped. No remedies to help when you were sick, no lady with sweet eyes that understood that you didn’t have all the money to pay her back yet because you still had to feed your kids. Nobody to change that bottle of milk at her and Smokes babies grave anymore.

Therese had to give birth to her baby without her husband being there. All she had was her sister and her mom there. She thinks if only she hadn’t told her husband to just take the job offer Stack had for him. But she was thinking about their baby. Nobody blamed her for telling Cornbread to do it but she blamed herself.

Pearline’s husband had been asking around if anyone seen her. He thought she left him, not even knowing she went to the juke that night. Maybe if he wasn’t fucking a prostitute on the other side of town he would’ve know where she went. Her sister came down to clarksdale with her husband and kids to get her things from her house. It’s not like the bastard would treat the things she left behind good. Better someone that loved her take them. They don’t have a body to bury for the funeral.

Mary was never seen again. Her husband was going to make a trip down to Clarksdale in the couple weeks after she never came home that day. Only to be found in pieces in his own home by a family member of his when they hadn’t seen him or Mary for a while. They say it look like he was mauled an animal.

Delta Slim wasn’t playing his harmonica at the train station no more. Or even at that other juke any more. He taught Sammie that the blues was something sacred to black folks and to know the blues you have to also feel it. It’s also a way to connect back with our past and work through that hurt. He knows all about hurt now.

When the police went to the old mill to look for the group of men that had went there the morning the day before to handle the new owners of the mill. But their bodies were scattered on the outside of the building. Not knowing who murdered them.

Of course because of the murders and disappearances tensions were high in town. Those with skin pale as paper and European features believing that black people in town did it. Blaming random black people for the murder of their family members. While the black people in the town realize that getting justice for their missing family members would give them the same fate as them they realized the only thing they could do was grieve.

Maybe it was a good thing Sammie left. imagine what would happen if certain people knew he was at the juke joint the night before and was the only one around after.

Sammie doesn’t think he could stay there anyways after leaving that church. He knows his mother would open the door for him, he just knew his father would close the door before she could tell him he could come in. It’s hard to keep faith after seeing what he saw that night and the dreams he has every other night makes him think about it all over again. When he wakes up from the dreams he almost always wakes up just before Remmick bites him. Still feeling that sting in his scar from the initial scratch. With that feeling he gets up and starts getting ready for work.

It took a while to get settled in Chicago for Sammie. Working odd jobs before working at a steel mill 30 minutes from where he lived at always taking multiple buses to work. Did he make a lot of money? No not at all but he made enough to pay his room he was renting out.

He stayed with a family of 5 in a Chicago apartment. Well not even a room really an old folding bed in a room he had to share with the families oldest son. Bobby, 12 years old not the best company coming when your coming home from a late night shift and you have a kid ranting to you about how he’s sick of being a babysitter, he thinks his mom is pregnant again because she was being more grouchy today(she was having a bad day) or that he’s tired of thing in this small ass apartment.

‘You and me, too kid.’ Sammie always thought. But usually when Bobby would go on his tangents, he would hope him acting sleep would get him to stop talking…he wouldn’t. He wish he could afford his own place even though the James family were nice people..mostly.

Sammie doesn’t think Mr.James likes him very much. But living with five other people is a lot. He should be used to it though with him and his many siblings living with him and his parents in their small house back at home. He had hoped he would be abled to afford his own place but with how much he was making he would have to work for years before seeing a pay increase.

So he gets up every morning at 5. No later than 5:20 though. if he’s not in the bathroom washing up before Doris from down the hall gets there, she takes 30-40 minutes in the bathroom. he will be completely off schedule, And if he’s completely off schedule he’s late for the bus if he’s late for the bus he’s late for work most likely.

After getting up for the day and thankfully beating Doris to the bathroom Mrs.James is usually awake by then. Making coffee and toast for both of them, she’s an early morning riser. Only quiet she can get with three kids and another on the way, she found out just the other day. She doesn’t mind Sammie being up with her because he’s usually quiet too this early.

“I guess Bobby was right this time around.” Sammie said with a look of surprise after she had told him during their morning routine. After he finished eating and drinking his coffee he would head to the bus stop up the street to catch the bus coming at 5:45 am.

Waiting for the bus the humidity was already making you sweat. With people standing at the stop with him fanning their selves. While it is hot especially for almost 6 in the morning, to Sammie he knows these people will always take Chicago summer heat over Mississippi heat any day. The south in the summer is always a lot.

Getting on the bus and taking his seat in the very back row after getting on he usually always just leans against the window before getting off at the stop he knows he needs to get off at before walking to the other.

One or two stops into the bus ride a sound has him pulling his head up from the window. A beautiful sound. Looking up he looks around the bus trying to figure out where that sound is coming from. After two seconds he finds what’s making it or who is making that sound. He sees a woman with brown skin and brown hair slicked in a bun looking ready for work.

Can’t make out what’s she’s humming but she sounds nice. The little bit of humming draws his attention while bringing comfort. Almost like she knew he was studying her while she was looking out the window she turns looking around the bus before locking eyes on him. They stare at each other for a second before he looks away. Feeling a little embarrassed for getting caught staring at her so hard she could feel it. But she keeps looking at him while he tries to turn back to the window in his seat acting like he couldn’t see her.

‘Cmon Sammie just three more stops before you have to get off.’ He said to himself in his head.

The bus stopped at another stop again with people getting on the bus. as people are finding their seats she gives hers up to a older woman walking further into the bus and sits in the first open seat she finds. which happens to be next to him.

As the bus movies again she stares at the side of his face. Now she was the one who started to study him.

“Were you watching me a couple minutes ago?” She wasn’t mad about it he could tell by her tone just asking a question.

“Yes ma’am I was, only because I heard you.”

“You heard me, huh?”

“Yeah, sounded nice”

“Nice? I wasn’t even singing lyrics”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t sound nice.” A smile comes up and off his face before you could see it if you weren’t looking at him. But she saw it.

“Was I loud?” She says turning her head to the side to try and see his face fully to gage his reaction. But he still has his head turned against the window

“No ma’am I think it’s just when you hear something on a quiet bus you usually look for who’s making the sound.” Sammie shrugs

The woman nods her head before responding again

“What’s your name?” She fully turns to him in her seat, her knee hitting his in her turn. Pulling her hand out for him to shake with a smile on her face.

“Preacher Boy.” He responded staying in his same position but nodding his head to her.

“Well Preacher Boy last time I checked it was poor manners to not look at someone in the eyes when they greet you with a hand shake.”

With this Sammie turns to look at her fully. She was even prettier up close, could see her pretty wide brown eyes and full lips. For the few seconds looking at her he noticed how her brown eyes widened a bit at his face. With this she could fully see the scar left on him from that night. Not feeling the best when people stare at his scar too long he gives her hand a nice shake quick before turning back to the window.

Realizing she made him uncomfortable with her stare. the lady with no name so far tries to make him comfortable again.

“I’m sorry for staring so hard that wasn’t nice of me.” She winces

“It’s okay”

“It’s obviously not so I’m gonna apologize.”

Still turned his way she says “At least you’re still handsome with that scar on your face.”

This makes Sammie turn back to her with raised eyebrows. She looks back at him with a smile. Her smile had her lips turn up and pushed her cheeks up making her eyes a little smaller. He snorts then gives her a smile back.

Leaning back in the seat, feeling more comfortable with talking to her again “So you think I’m handsome.

“ Don’t get cocky now!” She says after giggling, looking at him with an smile that was bigger than the last smile..

“ You on your way to work also?”

“Yeah I’m covering for my friend, came down with a fever. Don’t think this heat and having an old white woman bitch about how you didn’t clean her couch good enough is good for making her feel better.”

“Makes sense”

They talk for a while, enjoying the conversation between each other. He liked talking to her, she had this pretty voice where you would’ve thought she would start singing at any second. He’s sure she could sing just on how she sounded humming when he originally heard her. She brought up his voice saying he sounded like a much older man, than he looked.

“How old are ya? He asked

“Didn’t your mother teach you to never ask a lady her age?” She replies with a raised brow.

“Just answer the question.”

“Fine I’m turning 21 this year.”

“So am I, like you said we are the same age. With me being 20 right now, I’ll have to voice of a grown man. Because that’s what I am”

“You just have a baby face though!”

“So do you.”

After the conversation goes on for a while longer she looks out the window. “ Oh this is my stop coming up.” She says while gathering her stuff up before pausing raising her hand again.

“ it was nice meeting you preacher boy, I hope I’ll see you around!” This time he shakes her raised hand with a slower handshake almost like he wants it to last. Much better than the quick one he gave her before.

“It was nice meeting you too.” He admires her beauty one last time before the bus comes to a stop and she grabs her bag once more and starts to get off the bus with the two other people getting off.

As she’s getting off Sammie realizes something

“Hey-“ when he goes to say something, she takes her foot off the bus and starts walking in the opposite direction of the bus.

He forgot to ask her for her name..

author’s note — thank you @dangerslutx for helping me with some ideas with writing this! see you next chapter! It’s not letting me tag everyone so let me know if I just didn’t spell your name right. I’m gonna try to figure the issue out. Also let me know if you wanna join the taglist. 🫶🏽

divided by strangergraphics-archive

taglist:

@massiv3tr33p3rsona @heyyimmisunderstood @notmilescaton @whysoceerious @ber-21 @cosmicautomatonshark @lollIxzzz @thesolenicole

[twistedpink]

Yknow bridelzillas on their wedding days and planning for the wedding, who do think would be groomzilla?

TYTY TYYYYYY 🙏 @bju3c0re (dk if you CARE but whateva..)

3 Lucky if you know the colours

Leona, Idia, Lilia (<- Neither of you do) (Royal wedding/Algorithm/Randomizer wheel) Jamil, Riddle (<- Too nervous for constructive criticism- take a WILD guess. It’s red.)

2 “Whatt you wanted your mum there? Crazy,,”

Cater, Vil (<- This is HIS wedding. Be thankful for his thigh garter.) Honourable mention to Malleus, who would be the groomzilla of all time if he wasn’t late to the ceremony <3

1 Godspeed 🙏

Trey, Ruggie, Azul (<- VERY strict boundaries about guests/season, overall not that bad) Kalim, Rook (<- You couldn’t pay me enough to be with that many blondes at a time) Sebek (HUMAN GUESTS??? I mean yeah ig. So long as they adhere to dress code) (10/10 whiner)

[mariacallous]

Israel’s attack on Iran has elicited a predictable response from groups that identify as “pro-Palestine.” At protests in several Western cities—some merely anti-war or anti-interventionist, others explicitly anti-Zionist or pro-Iranian—people rushed to criticize the Israeli military action to prevent Tehran from acquiring nuclear weapons. In so doing, they offer succor to a ruthless theocratic regime that has ground its heel upon its own people and brought misery to the entire region for nearly half a century.

By backing various regimes and militias in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, and Gaza, the Islamic Republic of Iran has been responsible, directly or indirectly, for the death of hundreds of thousands of Arab and Muslim people in the conflicts it has fomented. Iranian meddling in the region has provided Arab dictators such as Syria’s Bashar al-Assad with both the moral and material means to suppress dissent, crush reform, and extend their autocratic rule. The pro-Palestine messaging ignores the fact that a nuclear-armed Iran would be far more belligerent and dangerous than the regime already has been for the past three decades.

For the pro-Palestine lobby to take at face value Tehran’s claim to lead an “Axis of Resistance” against Israel is at best naive, and at worst malignant in a way that can only be described as anti-Semitic. It means accepting that the Islamic Republic’s eliminationist rhetoric about Israel has made it a legitimate advocate for the Palestinian cause. These pro-Palestine voices seem oblivious to the fact that the Palestinian national project for independence and statehood is in ruins, thanks in large part to Iranian influence.

Back in the 1990s, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps and political leadership worked to undermine the Oslo peace process by inciting Hamas’s opposition to any settlement that would have led to a two-state solution. Later, they encouraged Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas to carry out suicide bombings inside Israel. Beginning in 2005, Iran increased its arms shipments to Hamas, enabling the group to seize control of Gaza in 2007 and turn it into a one-party Islamist statelet. Iran also financed Hamas’s construction of tunnels in Gaza and provided the group with missile technology, funneled via the smuggling networks that Iran effectively sponsored in Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula.

Iranian support for terrorism also benefited from Hamas’s Qatari financing, which propped up the group’s tenure as the government of Gaza. This arrangement also had the tacit assent of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, because the Islamist-controlled enclave helped keep the Palestinian national movement divided and block any progress toward a two-state solution. In this respect, the backing that Hamas received from the mullahs of Tehran aligned with Netanyahu’s security policy—a fact that the pro-Palestine voices expressing solidarity with Iran might do well to reflect on.

Iran’s pro-Palestine posture was entirely instrumental. It never cared about any of the Middle East’s Muslim or Arab peoples as such. Instead, it used their causes solely as a means to exert influence and build a network of proxy forces in the region. Tehran’s realpolitik surfaced memorably in 2011 when Hamas sided with Syrian protesters against Assad; Iran was furious at this affront to its Syrian asset, and cut off Hamas’s funding until after it reestablished relations with the Damascus dictatorship.

I realize that many people in the West are furious about what Israel has been doing in Gaza since Hamas’s abhorrent attack on October 7, 2023. Israel had a right to self-defense against that incursion and the atrocities perpetrated against its citizens. Yet, in the nearly two years since then, the brutality and intensity of Israel’s military campaign in the Gaza Strip have mobilized opposition around the world. I, too, feel sadness and anger about the remorseless violence: Israel’s war in Gaza has killed members of both my immediate and my extended family.

Too often, however, I see that harsh criticism of Israel fails to pin blame on the current Netanyahu-led government, which is loathed by a large number of Israelis, and devolves into delegitimization of the Jewish state itself. This inability to distinguish between Netanyahu’s far-right coalition and other trends in Israeli politics does a profound disservice to the pro-Palestine cause because it gives credence to Tehran’s cynical posture as a Palestinian champion.

The Islamic Republic of Iran will never cease its meddling in the Palestinian issue, because Tehran needs the conflict to feed its propaganda machine. The reality is that a secure, stable, independent Palestine will remain a remote possibility as long as the Islamic Republic exists in its current form and is allowed to maintain its pro-Palestine pose. Only by calling out this evil regime and distancing from it can the pro-Palestine movement hope to be effective.

The pro-Palestine lobby would do better to take its cues from the regime’s internal opponents, the brave Iranian people who have, in successive waves of a popular movement for reform and freedom, protested their violent, repressive government. The partisans of the Palestinian cause should stop to ask themselves how else Israel’s intelligence agencies would have been able to gather the kind of information that has led to its stunning military success in the opening hours of the war. Many Iranians inside Iran today view Israel as their only hope of overthrowing the mullahs. Unfortunately, but understandably, many Iranians have come to resent the Palestinian cause—precisely because the regime has used it as a pretext to squander the country’s precious resources on its militia proxies in the name of fighting Israel.

Ultimately, the Iranian people should be the ones to decide their nation’s future. This war, which may not be truly over despite the current cease-fire, must avoid the error of mission creep by keeping its focus solely on eliminating Tehran’s nuclear program and military capacity to destabilize the region. Confronting the Iranian regime need not repeat Iraq in 2003; at present, the United States seems mindful of that risk.

What onlookers in the West should know is that the Islamic Republic is no true friend of Palestine. The misguided slogans of anti-Israel leftists and overzealous social-justice activists that echo the Iranian regime’s anti-Zionist talking points do nothing but harm the Palestinian cause. They are a form of sabotage, not solidarity. Cheering Iranian missiles as they cause death and harm in Israel is no way to advance the Palestinian people’s just aspirations for freedom, dignity, and self-determination.

[scar-and-boomerang]

Zukka 🤝 Wuko

Grumpy but secretly soft firebenders with their disaster nonbender boyfriends who cannot be serious for one (1) second to save their own lives but is actually surprisingly competent... at times...

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

Krish couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as her sarcasm hit like a perfectly aimed dart. Her tone could have frozen hell over, but somehow that just made it funnier. "Director's notes are my specialty," he said, picking up his own burger. "I live to make girls feel special through constructive criticism." The way she delivered that line about force-feeding her something she couldn't eat - sharp and cutting but still somehow entertaining. Most people would be too scared to throw attitude at their kidnapper, but here she was treating him like an annoying waiter who'd messed up her order. He'd noticed how she tensed when he moved behind her chair, probably remembering every detail for later identification. Smart move, though he doubted she expected to find his cologne worth analyzing. The restraints had come off easily enough, and watching her rub feeling back into her wrists gave him an odd satisfaction. At least he wasn't completely heartless about the whole situation. Her thank you for freedom came wrapped in more sarcasm than a late-night comedy show, which was becoming her signature move apparently. "Your overwhelming urge to attack me with fast food is duly noted," he said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I'll make sure to stay alert for flying french fries."

When her stomach growled loud enough to hear across the table, he pretended not to notice even though it was impossible to miss. She was hungrier than she wanted to admit, which worked in his favor. Hungry people were easier to deal with, more willing to cooperate when basic needs were being met. The Kidnapping 101 crack actually made him laugh. "Actually, I skipped that class," he said. "Went straight to advanced warehouse dining instead." The juxtaposition of a white tablecloth and candles in a stark, concrete room with industrial lighting was absurd. He had to give her that. But somehow it felt right for this bizarre situation they'd found themselves in. Watching her grab that burger with both hands, trying to hide how much she was enjoying it, reminded him that underneath all the attitude was someone trying to make the best of a really bad situation. The defiance was impressive, but it also made him curious about what drove someone like her to take risks in the first place. "So here's what I'm wondering," he said, leaning back in his chair. "The whole Silky Siren thing ... why'd you choose that life? You could've stayed safe behind your family name, but instead you're out there making trouble. What's that about?"

"How thoughtful of you to live for serving director's notes," she said sweetly, though her tone could have cut glass. "Really makes a girl feel special." The sarcasm was thick enough to spread on toast, but she couldn't help herself. This was all absurd, and him finding it funny just pissed her off more. When he admitted her point about not knowing if she was vegetarian, she felt a tiny spark of satisfaction. "Super lucky guess, considering you could have been force-feeding me something I can't eat." She watched him move behind her chair and caught herself noticing things she had absolutely no business noticing. The careful way he handled the key, how he smelled like expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous she couldn't identify. He calmly worked on the restraints, and she definitely wasn't supposed to be paying attention to details like that about her kidnapper. Focus, she told herself, rubbing her wrists as the blood flow returned. Seriously, he'd chained her to a chair, and she's practically writing a case study on why he's a great guy. Stockholm Syndrome, anyone?

"Thank you for the freedom," she said, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness. His warning about sudden moves and better reflexes made her want to test that theory, but she wasn't completely stupid. "I'll try to contain my overwhelming urge to attack you with fast food." The burger actually smelled amazing, and her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough to be embarrassing. Great, now he knew exactly how hungry she was. She picked up a fry and took a bite. It was crispy and salty and exactly what she needed right now, which was annoying because she didn't want to give him credit for anything. "How very philosophical of you. Did you read that in Kidnapping 101?" She grabbed the burger with both hands, determined not to let him see how much she was actually enjoying this ridiculous meal. The whole candlelit dinner in a warehouse thing was beyond bizarre, but at least the food was decent. "Your warehouse budget clearly has interesting priorities."

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[antiadvil]

Jesus had 12 followers DanAndPhilGAMES has 2.89 million 🙄

[laithraihan]

My character Salmon Nicotine (or Saumon Nicotine idgaf) (name can also be shortened to Sonya)

[spockle]

I’m going fucking feral JUNE 5TH EVERYONE!

[catbunblue302]

No spoilers please because I'm only on book 2, but if Kaladin, Shallan, and Adolin don't end up in some sort of throuple I am going to go insane. They are so bitch4bitch4bitch

[wizardpostingworld]

I have come the closest to comprehension of what Caleb felt in the T-Dock (my iPad literally can’t open files anymore so i have to fully wipe it in order to make new art)! anyways - have this little doodle i did a while back. sometime, somewhere in aeor, two wizards take a moment to rest. No background bc this was a doodle but uhhhh yeah hope you guys like it! (Click for quality, tumblr exploded it)

[goyurim]

Ep. 8 - Weak Hero Class 1 (2022) | Ep. 8 - Weak Hero Class 2 (2025)

[phosphophillight]

shes my favorite character forever… some mahiru doodles i made while i watched a show with a friend. still trying to figure out how to draw her bc theres an animatic i want to make with her rlly bad.. maybe in a few months

[isawjamfirst]

🐺🐺🐺