#PT era

[atzfolder]

GOTTA MAKE THAT MONEY, MAKE PURSE [🪙]

[tinystern]

Ateez Seonghwa POP 20250112 TOKTOQ Live

[fourmoony]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐

f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words

summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective

cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)

sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3

James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.

He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.

Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.

James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"

You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.

Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.

James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."

It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."

"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."

You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.

"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.

He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.

It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.

But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"

Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."

James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."

"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"

You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."

James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."

It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."

"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.

"I can't ask you to do that."

James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."

You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."

He nods. "Any time."

"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.

James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."

He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.

"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.

You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."

James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."

"Cruel."

James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.

"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.

[smilesrobotlover]

Playing with an idea where the strangers go to Alfonzo’s time and find a friend :)

[interludedreams]

people pt. 2 aesthetics 💛💙

[leonardoeatscarrots]

Gentle Hands

Issue 1. Pages 6-10

Pt1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt4

Check it out on Webtoons or Tapas!

The best way to support me is to like and reblog!!

[amj2277]

don’t know why but my ideal Buddie love confession is always them accidentally blurting it out while yelling at eachother

like i just need them to be mad at each other (because they care) and either of them (more likely Eddie) yelling “because i love you, asshole!!” or something like that

i feel it’s very chaotic and just in character for them

can’t think of a better scenario for the love confession to happen

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

would just like to drop in and say that I'm still pissed that Fourteen didn't get to run around in 13's clothes for an episode. Clothing is such a fundamentally huge part of symbology for the Doctor (not just an indication of the current incarnation, but often an indication of the current incarnation's big tonal shifts/grief/connection to companions, especially in NuWho) and the fact that Jodie took so much effort to establish a costume that was gender-neutral and could be worn by all fans and Doctors and her doctor was so much less about her being a woman and more about the gender-gremlin nature of the Time Lords and more specifically the Doctor themself and the fact that Fourteen was immediately back in clothing similar to what he wore the first time, no passing of the torch, no literal cloaking of the new Doctor in the last Doctor's clothing until Fourteen could establish themself as a Doctor in their own right just leaves SUCH a nasty taste in my mouth, especially combining with the way that the specials tend to frame the Doctor previously being a woman as if that was the one thing that made Thirteen different/special in ironically such a binary way for what is supposed to be the most trans-inclusive episode of Doctor Who.

[nicktoons-unite-incorrect-quotes]

Jimmy: Why do you like being in the rain?

SpongeBob: I like splashing in the puddles!

Danny: I'm trying to get struck by lightening

Timmy: No one can see me crying

Jimmy: ...Are you guys okay?

[atzfolder]

ATEEZ — Deja Vu (2021)

[tinystern]

ATEEZ Season's Greetings 2025 | Seonghwa

[deimcs]

THE BATTLE OF OSTAGAR / dragon age: origins (2009)

[smilesrobotlover]

I wanted to play with sae with Zelda’s and a Zelda’s meet au. Here’s how they all met. The gate of time and Terrako’s bizzare magic forced everyone together. Biggest issue with this au is that it takes place after all my aus so this is after kotg but I don’t have the patience to play with it after so…. Yeah. But yeaaaah. I might continue this, I might not. But I enjoyed this. Very proud of how some panels turned out.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Dew can't sleep, and he hasn't been talking to Ifrit. Doesn't mean Ifrit doesn't still care, though. I fucking love them what can I say.

It's too late for this shit, Dew thinks, as he lights another cigarette on the balcony, careful not to let the glowing tip brush up against any of Mountain's potted plants invading the already narrow space. Stems curl around the metal railing, leaves dripping down and swaying in the light breeze. It's somewhat of a hypnotizing sight, one that has Dew blinking sluggishly as he attempts to chainsmoke his thoughts away.

It's too late to be plagued by every thoughts and worries known to man, and yet here Dew is. He hasn't bothered to grab his jacket, hoping that the cold would give him something to focus on. So far, it's only making him shiver hard enough to make his back ache. He's unwilling to go back inside though, frozen in place like staying rooted to the spot might be the key to his peace of mind.

Smoke is exhaled toward the night sky, pinpricks of light blinking at Dew's sad little worries on their canva of deep blue. The burning in his lungs helps a bit, but there is no magical remedy to the whirlwind up in the fire ghoul's head, mercilessly keeping him from restful slumber.

Dew doesn't realize how tense his neck is until a warm hand presses against the back of it, thumb digging in stiff muscles. He barely jumps at the sudden presence.

"I figured you'd be the one here."

Ifrit's voice is gentler than usual in the quiet of the night, face soft and hair mussed when he shifts into Dew's peripherical vision, looking very much like he just woke up. The sheet imprint on his cheeks only confirms it, as well as making him look unbearably adorable. Eyes big and searching despite the slight glaze of tiredness still clinging to them, Ifrit has the good sense not to push for an answer, just shrugs his jacket off to wrap it around Dew's shoulders. It's warm and smells like cedar, so achingly familiar. Dew can't help sinking into it. So what if there's unsaid things trapped between them, arguments never quite settled, longing for something maybe past, maybe broken, maybe fixable, that they're too cowardly to attempt saving ?

Right now, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because Ifrit's arm is slung around Dew's shoulders, tugging him into the older fire ghoul's chest, until Ifrit's heartbeat echoes in Dew's ear and he can feel a kiss being pressed to the crown of his head.

Ifrit's throat glows orange when he accepts the half-finished cigarette Dew hands him, a fun quirk of his that Dew admittedly missed. It used to fascinate him, seeing Ifrit's body visibly react to the smoke curling inside his lungs. The longer the drag he takes, the further the glow spreads, sometimes reaching his broad chest in an abstract pattern of light splashed under his skin.

With the both of them sucking onto the filter, Dew quickly ends up stomping on the butt of the cigarette. He doesn't reach for another one. His thoughts are still racing, but tiredness is starting to take its toll, and it's hard to follow what goes on in his brain when his eyes start closing for longer period of times, leaning into Ifrit's warm body and the soft touch of his fingers drawing mindless forms on his shoulder.

Dew still doesn't want to go though.

That's when Ifrit starts to sing.

It's more of a soft hum at the begining, but then words start to flow out of his mouth, ableit softly to fit the late hour. Ifrit has always had a nice voice. Surprisingly versatile, a bit raspy on the edge but able to climb pretty high, just to fall to a low rumble in a steady whiplash of register. Dew has begged him to sing to him many times over the years they've known each other, and every instance where Ifrit complied with rosy cheeks and bashful smiles have a special place carved for them in Dew's mind.

Distantly, he notices Ifrit's not singing in english. Gaelic, his brain provides. To Dew's untrained ears, the pronounciation seems pretty good, which makes him wonder whether Chain taught him, or if it's part of Ifrit's hidden deck of random knowledges.

Either way, the tension in Dew's shoulders is slowly bleeding away. There's a tight ball of yearning in his lower stomach, but that he can withstand. Probably.

The sudden realization that if they don't breach the distance that settled between them ever since Ifrit retired, the older fire ghoul will become somebody Dew used to know, used to love, strikes him like a bolt of lightening, and his hand flies up to grip Ifrit's arm in a tight grasp. It cuts the singing short, which Dew takes half a second to mourn before he chokes out.

"Don't go."

It's not all he'd like to say, but the words stick in his throat, tongue heavy and useless in his mouth. Ifrit, sweet, darling Ifrit, tightens his hold on Dew, mouth moving in his hair as he shushes him gently.

"I'm right here, i'm right here."

You're not, Dew wants to say, I miss you, you're holding me and I miss you.

But of course, it's like Ifrit knows what goes on in Dew's overproductive brain, because he leans forward, really draping himself over the smaller ghoul, planting a kiss on his temple.

"I am here, Dew. I promise."

Dew let himself relax, takes a deep breath.

"Come to bed with me ?"

Ifrit hesitates. Doesn't pull away, barely stiffens, but he does hesitate.

"Isn't Aether-"

"Yeah, he's there already. Ifrit, he wouldn't mind. Actually, I think he would be thrilled. Unless, of course, if you were with Zeph, I wouldn't want to-"

Dew's rambling is cut short by Ifrit turning him in his hold, until they face each other, heart-wrenching fondness dancing in the older fire ghoul's eyes. Carefully, he cups Dew's face in his big hands, pressing a kiss square on his forehead.

"No, I was alone. Let's go then. Before you freeze to death."

For the first time in several hours, Dew smiles bright and wide.

(In the morning, Aether wakes up with Ifrit's arm slung over both his and Dew's waist, two pairs of legs tangled with his. A familiar sight he missed more than he realized.)

[uzi-x33]

this cover makes me so sad like wtf, why, why would u do this to me. 22 Dazai looking back at 18 Dazai and his past memories w the lupin trio omg killing myself🙁🙁 i thought wan was supposed to be happy.

[toffeebrews]

Entering my EMO ERA where all I draw is SADNESS and CARNAGE put the cat ears aside a new Toffee is in town.