#THIS IS WORSE SO MUCH WORSE LIKE YOU'RE BASICALLY SPITTING IN MY FACE

[gentil-minou]

AO3 has gotten hit with AI data scraping programs already, it’s possible that any fic you’ve posted that isn’t locked has already been trained on, it’s why there’s been several people who would’ve never done it otherwise archive locking their stuff recently

Oh yeah I know that I still have to lock my fics but this last reblog about a reader putting a story in chatgpt themselves to generate a fake ending is waaaaaaay worse in my opinion.

Like look, I know when I put anything out on the internet that someone somewhere is gonna take it and pretend its theres or share it without my permission. It's already happened to me with my analyses in the past. When I heard about the software being scrubbed I was sad but not surprised, it really was only a matter of time but there was little I or any other writer could do to stop that (whether AO3 could have is an entirely different matter)

But to me a person reading my unfinished fic and going "wow this is great but I want more I'll put this in chatgpt to get more instantly!" is actually SOOOOOOOO fucking insulting. That person is bascially saying they don't view me as another being but as a person meant to entertain. They're saying that the hours and tears and all that time spent writing was not actually that valuable because look a machine can do it just as well and faster!

That person is so egregiously wrong and selfish. They are no better than the dudebros who scrubbed the internet in the first place. They're worse because they KNOW it's not okay and yet choose to ignore that. They're worse because they're taking something that is very obviously very personal to the author and then saying "nah i want a machine to finish it cause im too impatient or don't care what the author thinks'

Writing is so goddamn hard but writers write for a reason. We write for you and for us and for the fandom and fic writers do it for FREE and yet that isnt enough? How are people who use chatgpt to write fic any different from people who steal art and feed artificial art generators? What's the point of me writing any more or ever why should anyone write if a machine is more valuable than me, a human being.

There's no excuse that makes this okay. NONE. If you do this unfollow me and do yourself and literally everyone else in the world a favor and DO LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE. GOD.

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 14

starring: billy loomis x male reader

request: Billy Loomis x SubTop shy nerdy Male Reader

warnings: smut, riding, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cursing, orgasm denial, punishment, gagging, creampie

fuck why did it have to go like this, you were just supposed to be hanging at billy's place to study but he knew the real reason you were over here, you hadn't seen him in a week due to the overwhelming amount of exams you had to do and you were hella pent up.

the way you were looking him up and down each and every minute while trying your hardest to keep your eyes on the book in front of you was a telling sign "need some help" billy asks lifting from his spot on the bed and walking over to the desk.

he leaned over you, his hand sitting on the desk to hold him up while his other moved to drape over your shoulder "no i'm good" you shudder feeling yourself get harder by the second "c'mon you look like you're having a hard time staying focused" billy scoffs taking the pencil out of your hand, his slightly rough digits grazing the back of your hand.

sending you into an immediate spiral, you were thinking of buying a ring, getting a house, and marrying this fine ass man, yes you were getting a little ahead of yourself but my god you wanted him bad now, lifting up from your seat and kissing him.

"well damn took you long enough" billy smirked taking off his clothes as you followed suit, after you both became naked he pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap, spitting a little spit onto your tip and rubbing his thumb over it making you jolt in sensation before he let you into him.

you letting out a long drawled out moan in response, he had the tightness of a sex toy fresh out the box, a feeling you became all to familiar with that also made lose all interest in using them after the... halloween incident, just thinking about it made shivers run down your spine but that's another story for another day.

billy bounced up and down on your cock like he was riding a rodeo, tightening around you on every bounce practically trying to make you cum in seconds and it was a shame to admit that he could but this time you wouldn't let him but in holding back the whole neighborhood could hear your moans.

no literally, your next door neighbor were calling the cops to file a noise complaint, but that still didn't stop the man above you from fucking himself on your cock like you two were the only people in the world, it felt to good to stop and after not getting off in a week you needed this break because studying is hard.

but not as hard as you were right now, billy could feel your cock pulsing in him, your heart racing as the room around you spun quickly, your hands instinctively finding their way to hide your blushing face from the world.

"ah ah take 'em off now" billy demanded and with your cock basically in his control you had choice but to oblige and lowered your hands, he took both your hands and placed one on his cock and the other on his hips "look at that, a much better place for those huh" he asked starting to thrust his cock into your hand.

"mhm" you choked out to his question, it felt like your body was sinking into the bed, with the bouncing on your cock you wanted to cum so badly it hurt "bi...billy can i cum" you asked looking up at him begging "not yet daddy, i wanna cum with you" he smiled at your weak self.

he loved the sight of seeing you being so submissive for him, he owned you and your cock and you knew that but followed his commands willingly, you were shaking to be able to cum but you couldn't dare disobey billy.

billy leaned down to kiss you, messily laying kisses from your lips to your chest to you stomach "you're so handsome" he complimented and you couldn't handle when he made compliments to you it was to much for your brain to handle and with his wrapped around your cock to it was just even worse making you spurt your cum into him.

"y/nnnn" he teased you, never stopping his riding to overstimulate you "m'sorry billy, i'm so sorry i didn't mean too" you try to hold your case but billy doesn't wanna hear it, shoving a pair of his used underwear into your mouth and continued riding you until he came, cumming all over your chest with satisfied moans.

your fucked out body amused him, maybe it was a kind of thing he got from being ghostface, the love of seeing his victim scared or just fucked up, you were in a dazed state, not a single thought behind those eyes as billy layed next to you "im sorry billy" you sounded almost puppy like in billys ears, begging for your masters forgiveness.

"don't be i got my fill out of it" billy smirks wiping some of his cum off your chest to lick off his finger before he hears someone knock at the door "police department, open up" shit i guess that neighbor really did call the cops.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[amymbona]

I absolutely agree, nurse fic is really good, need to know what will happen next and that Patrick will recover ✊️

(he doesn't deserve any recovery 😡)

Guilt begins eating Patrick alive, especially since you've decided to stay with him in the hospital for the whole week he is there, only running home (that's what you call Patrick's place now) to change your clothes and bring Patrick some better food than the hospital mac and cheese. You're evidently tired, your beautiful face all pale and almost lifeless, texting on your phone when you think Patrick is asleep.

But he's not oblivious to it, and can see how disappointed you are that Patrick's progress is quite literally lost and that you can't spend as much time as you'd like with your new guy. Boyfriend, perhaps? One night, he catches your gentle whispering, peeking one eye open to see you holding your phone close to your ear.

"No no, I really can't. No, it's broken. Yeah. He really needs my help now. Look, we can - hey! Listen - no, but I can't just leave him alone. C'mon, you know it's my job. Listen - oh - okay, goodnight."

He really can't help himself. He tells you that it wasn't an accident, that he intentionally kicked his foot against the bed until he was crying in pain. That he did it so you could be with him all the time.

When he's finally home from the hospital, it's even worse than before. You don't talk at all, and the only words leaving your lips are breakfast, lunch and dinner. Speak about food, it's bland, underseasoned and intentionally disgusting. But you eat it too, tasteless mashed potatoes, undercooked chicken, as if you don't fear salmonellosis at all.

All the physical practice is reduced mostly to Patrick's own work, your soft hands just barely reaching to touch his legs, and when they do, it almost burns. You're not being intentionally harsh, but there is nothing gentle or comforting about your touch. It's basically all the same as it was when you first got into an argument, but ten times worse. Your disappearances are more frequent as well. Wearing prettier dresses and staying out for longer, Patrick really thinks you're living your best life.

He's lounging in the living room when you come back home one evening, significantly late and slightly tipsy. Simply by saying your name, he asks for your presence, telling you to come here and sit down. But you're too carefree to be afraid or bothered, calling him and idiot and a conceited bitch. He lets you, because it's true. And perhaps it's the alcohol in your veins or the thrill of the moment, but you're kissing him before you know it.

Patrick holds you as if you're a precious jewel, carefully maneuvering you on his lap, barely able to feel your weight on his thighs and remaining cautious about his plastered foot. He gropes your breasts and ass, wanting to feel everything of you, to have you as humanly close as possible, to explore every single part of your body. You're holding his face tightly in your palms, touching him in a much more different way than you did ever before.

You fall against Patrick like a piece of puzzle, your tipsy breath filling his mouth, and so in return, his tongue fills yours. It's an exchange of spit, hatred and hidden longing, much clearly following the thick tension that has sparked between the two of you. Suddenly not holding back, the rhythmic grinding movement of your hips against his cock gets it to harden.

Both of you pull away with a gasp, staring into each other's eyes, cheeks equally as flushed, but neither of you speak. Not about what has just happened, at least. Slowly, gently, you palm Patrick's dick, feeling him twitch against your hand. And that's where the evening ends, both of you going to bed alone with fuzzy minds and conflicted thoughts filling your two heads. Thought one, Patrick is slowly recovering. Thought two, you've just done something really stupid.

[doctordiscord123]

If you're still receiving requests, what about an ego (you pick) feeling gender envy towards Dark? Dark is so very gender royalty and I love them so much, and you can't help but feel jealous at times hahaha.

It was a masculine day for Dark.

Even still, he'd put on makeup, red and blue eye shadow that went perfectly with his mismatched eyes, black lipstick, and he just looked...perfect. Everything was intentional with Dark, especially when it came to his appearance -- they'd all learned that a long time ago. The -- man? -- was almost as vain as Bim was, for God's sake. Almost. And he'd matched the makeup with a sleeveless black turtleneck and black jeans and some silver hoop earrings in an outfit that had made Wilford drool when Dark walked out of the bedroom. Dark looked so good, all the time.

It made Eric's stomach twist in knots in a way he could only describe as jealousy.

"Eric, dear, you're staring."

Eric squeaked, jolting in place where he sat in the living room. Dark smirked slightly, and finally looked up from his book to fix Eric with a stare that made him deeply uncomfortable. Eric looked away, wringing his handkerchief in his hands. There was a slight glitter to Dark's makeup that caught the light and somehow made his gaze all the more piercing.

"Eric. Look at me." Slowly, Eric did, locking his gaze on Dark's forehead so he didn't have to look him in the eye. Still, he caught Dark's slight smile. "What's wrong? You're not usually the staring type."

"Your makeup." Instantly, Dark stiffened, smile fading into an expression more guarded, and Eric panicked. "No! No no no, not like that, i-it's just -- well -- you-you-you -- it's -- I just --"

"Eric. Spit it out."

"Can you do mine?"

The question came out fast, almost unintelligible, and Dark blinked, rearing back some. It was his turn to stare, as Eric felt heat rise in his face, and he covered it with his handkerchief. He fought the urge to let out a muffled scream. "Never mind, that was stupid, you don't have to, I was just -- I thought -- you --"

He was cut off by Dark laughing, and his blush only got worse. And then -- there was an icy hand on Eric's shoulder, and he slowly lowered his handkerchief to find Dark giving him a warm smile. "Come on, I'll do you one better; I'll teach you how to do your own. I'm a bit old fashioned in my tools, I'm sure Bim has some easier tips and tricks he can show you later, but basics are always a start, yes?"

Eric stared. Stared at Dark's face, at his beautiful makeup and immaculate outfit and perfect jewelry -- and he split in a wide grin, shyly taking Dark's hand and let Dark lead him away towards the bedrooms. "...Thank you."

Dark chuckled, and squeezed Eric's hand. "You're very welcome, dear."

[winterfleursblog]

Oh baby, but it's cold outside

☆ Genre: Fluff

☆ Warnings: Just over fatigue !

☆ Pairing: Idol!Seungkwan x SoloArtist!reader

Reader is a solo artist, Seungkwan is ... Seungkwan. They met through promotions and being under the same entertainment. The two have been dating for three months now, but it seems like the reader still feels afraid of being vulnerable with him. These all changed due to a hectic day that 'took out' every last bit of energy from the reader.

It's just a week before Christmas, but it didn't feel like it—you were still finishing promotion videos, recording special covers, and the like. Although doing this was something you enjoyed, you can't help but wish for rest ... even just for a day.

"Y/n, our last two takes are in 3 minutes, let's get prepared now" said your manager, quickly waking you up from your half-asleep state. Work began to be tiring after a month without breaks, and if your manager weren't watching, you would've escaped and went to your boyfriend's filming location to hug him as you listen to his daily stories.

Things took a turn for the worse. What you thought was a 5-minute take turned into 30 minutes.

"Try holding this flavor instead"

"Hmm... wouldn't this poster be better"

"Let's try a different dress, one that would suit the new flavor's vibe better"

The company you're endorsing for came unprepared, and now you had to deal with it. Although your inner monologue has been spitting out curses since they started making sudden changes, you remained calm and professional on the outside. Sooner after the shoot was done, it was time to go home to the one you loved the most.

You absolutely adore Seungkwan. If you could give him the universe, you would. And so it became a hobby of yours to care for him each day; make sure he never leaves on an empty stomach, pamper him with the things he needs when he's in a hectic schedule, and even massage his head when he's exhausted. None of those felt like chores to you, as they felt like privileges that God has given. Your love for your boyfriend was one that didn't expect anything in return.

However, your boyfriend loves you just as much as you do. He always tries to take you home safely by personally driving, and gives gifts (which he rarely does to others!).

This day had been a tiring one, and it has ended. Now all that's left is to go home and see the love of your life after war (a long day shooting).

After the 2-hour shoot, you open your phone to missed calls and unread messages from Seungkwan.

"Where are youuu?"

"Should I pick you up now?"

" :⁠-⁠[ "

Instantly, your face lights up.

"I'm sorry boo, schedule was tight, I couldn't read them earlier"

"I'm at XXX district, I'm about to go home, don't worry"

You pack your bags to set off to go home, 'til your phone vibrates again. Seungkwan has replied in an instant despite your hour-late reply.

"Okay, I'll come there :⁠^⁠) wait for me"

There it is again, your heart beating like crazy. Being practically half-asleep right now, you start wondering if you are dreaming; but thank the heavens, you aren't. A part of you wants to tell him not to come since it's already late and he too should get some sleep, but you yourself knew you couldn't go home at this state too.

While waiting for Seungkwan, your seniors pull you over and take you along.

"Hey, that's the last shoot for this month, let's go celebrate y/n"

"But—"

"Oh come on, don't be such a kill joy"

In a matter of seconds, you find yourself dragged outside in the snow. It took all the energy you got to let go and reject their offer.

"Sorry, I really can't right now"

And then came a chorus of sighs, but it was inevitable. If you drunk now, you'd probably wind up dead tomorrow.

Out in the cold, you could no longer think straight. "Should I go back inside?" but the building is far from you now. "Where could seungkwan be?" and he has just started driving by now. "How longer will my eyes stay awake?" and you're basically sleep walking right now.

It was useless, all you could do is walk back to the building or else you'd freeze to death. Half-asleep, you start making your way back to where you were before getting dragged. With your state right now, one wrong step and you'd stumble on the snow. You start waking yourself by slapping your face, which barely made a difference. Suddenly you hear the a familiar car horn—it was Seungkwan.

He got out of the car and waved his hand to you.

"Y/n~"

Ah, it's that cute smile coupled with his chubby cheeks that made you fall for him.

"Kwa—"

The thing you so feared of happening, finally happened. You stumbled on snow and are now like a kid trying to make a snow angel. You could hear Seungkwan's giggles getting louder as he runs towards you.

"HAHAHA— are you— HAHAHA— okay?"

"you need some rest, let's go home"

You look at him with a sarcastic smile as he helps you up. As he glances at your face, his mocking slowly turns into concern.

The moment you sat on the passenger seat, you fell asleep. It was just a 10-minute ride home and you could've just waited, but the land of the dreams were already pulling you in.

Soon, you woke up to the sudden feeling of stopping. The moment you opened your eyes, it wasn't your apartment through the window that you saw; rather, your boyfriend's front camera snapping photos. He was taking selcas of you together while you were asleep.

Seeing you open your eyes, he immediately stopped giggling while posing and hid his phone.

"I saw that"

"...sorry"

"I know you like my face so much, but can't you just wait until I wake up?"

There is it, your cocky tone that makes him flustered.

"Whatever...! We're home"

You step out of the car to battle again with your fatigue. Just like the usual night routine; half shower, change clothes, and the last thing—properly remove your makeup. They put on so much makeup on you earlier that it was so hard to remove. Thanks to 'that' company's indecisiveness, your makeup remover has now run out. With no options left, you go to Seungkwan's room.

"Kwan-ah, can I borrow your makeup remover?"

He pointed to where it is—just infront of the make up desk. His makeup desk was much grand compared to yours thanks to being an idol for longer, might as well remove your makeup in his room, too.

As you were removing your makeup, you were in your last straw—using up the last bits of energy and consciousness. The cold weather wasn't any help too, now that it is lulling you to sleep. Seungkwan was scrolling through his phone, but his attention was on you minutes later as you fell asleep on his desk.

"Aigo~ Y/n"

"You haven't finished yet, you'd irritate your skin if you sleep like that"

But his efforts were futile, you were already asleep.

He took matters to his own hands. Gently, he removed your makeup for you and cleaned up right after. Since you two sleep in different rooms (something YOU yourself wished for), Seungkwan was thinking whether or not to wake you up. A part of him felt scared of you getting uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but another just wanted to cuddle with you and adore you as you sleep.

Amid all of this thinking, he didn't realise that his shuffling woke you up.

"Oh, sorry, did I fell asleep?"

"I'll go back now, goodnight baby"

It was one of the rare moments you were vulnerable, and he knew 'cause you started calling him "baby." Now flustered and desperate to adore you as you sleep, he started retaliating.

"Ah~ Why don't you stay here for the night? C'mon, you can't even walk"

At this point, you had no sense of rationality left in you, so you just spouted out the purest of your thoughts

"But I sleep really noisy, and I don't want you to see me in the morning bare faced"

"But I want tooo~"

Seungkwan was acting like a lovesick boy, despite the fact that you two had been dating for 3 months now.

"And I...I'm shy...to sleep in the same bed as 'THE' Seungkwan"

"I promise I won't do anything weird!"

You suddenly blush

"I-I know! That's not what I meant!"

You started thinking of excuses to escape the situation when the real reason was just that your heart races every time he was near. The fangirl in you still can't believe that you're dating him, and will probably become very clingy if you slept on the same bed. With your drunken-like state because of fatigue, you made the stupidest excuse ever known.

"But... it's warmer in my room"

"Oh baby, but it's cold outside"

He himself can't believe he said such words, and is now a blushing mess.

"...I meant, it's cold on the way to your...room"

Great, now you can no longer resist.

You finally sigh in defeat and put your weight on him though a hug. He quickly understood this and helped you walk towards the bed. The second you laid down, you start wondering why his bed was much comfortable than yours. Was it the matress? The sheets? Or was it simply him being there?

Those thoughts were dismissed once he started poking your cheeks and stroking your hair.

It was the first time in your life someone not your parents has done so, and you could no longer fight your intrusive thoughts. Suddenly you hug him tightly and act all clingy. He reciprocates anyways with a forehead kiss. You two are basically fools in love right now.

"I love you all the time, but I think I love you more when you're like this"

He didn't realise that you were asleep already, and he was basically talking to himself. Still, he continued hoping that his teasing will he heard in your dreams.

"You can't even stay awake for a whole minute, how can I trust you with 20 steps to your room?"

"Ah, you've been overworking again, I told you, you aren't going to lose popularity just because you haven't done a comeback in half a year!"

"Really, you're so stubborn"

"...and I love it, too"

A few moments later, he also drifted to sleep, and whole night was just you clinging to him like some sort of koala. He enjoyed this, though, and will now coax you everyday into cuddling with him until you both fall asleep.

Extras ; [the next day] !

The next day, he woke up first, and did what he's good at—taking photos of sleeping people. This time around, though, you didn't catch him. When you woke up, he was wearing a grin that looked like it told a thousand words. Was it a cocky, embarrassed, or smitten grin?

Your thoughts weren't composed yet right now, but as soon as you realised you were sleeping on the same bed, you sit up and panic.

"W-Why am I sleeping here?? Did I do anything crazy? Oh God"

Seungkwan giggled a bit at your actions, but immediately calmed you down by giving you a recap of what happened a few hours ago—just that, it's his version now.

"Well, you were soo tired and you basically wanted some cuddles from the most handsome man in existence, and so you asked me kindly if I could shower you with love. I didn't mind doing it at all since you asked nicely."

And there it is, he's starting to get cocky again. Luckily, you remembered last night because of his twisted story.

You were about to protest until his phone switched on for the morning alarm, and you saw his lock screen to be a collage of sleeping faces. What's worse? They're all pictures of you.

He tried to hide it but it was too late.

"Hm? What's that?"

"... Nothing ...."

Since he was caught red-handed anyways, he used it instead to tease you.

"Ah, how cute, I got a sleeping koala with me~ hehehe"

This obviously was embarrassing for you and it required drastic measures.

"Kwan-ah ... what do you want?"

Your tone was serious, and that took him aback.

"Hm? ... What I want...?"

"The latest American-style store or the hamburger shop down the road ... you name it..."

"Why?"

"...in exchange for ... changing your lock screen"

He suddenly burst out into laughter and started getting all demanding.

"Hmm... can I have both?"

You look at him with a defeated expression

"Well, I have two versions of the lockscreen, can't have one showing randomly, right?"

With your sleeping face getting exposed to the other members of seventeen on the line, you just follow his request. He ends up paying for the food anyways and turns the food hunt into a date.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello I AM ALIVE AGAIN ON TUMBLR but now writing for Seungkwan 😄 This fic is not proofread or what, PLEASE BEAR WITH ME !! thank you 😊🌸

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

can u do cis alex k. x cis male reader smut where alex spanks the reader and perchance piss play like reader being forced 2 piss themselves pretty pretty plz :3

WARNINGS: piss, semi-public? you're in the woods, humiliation, brosex?

thanks for the 10 bucks!! Sorry it took me a while to spit this out, so i hope you like it! sorry I totally forgot to incorporate the spanking

"Alex, I need to piss dude."

You and Alex have been out in the woods since about 10 AM, working on his student film Marble Hornets. It's now 2:30, and you've had to pee for the last hour or so. And you’ve been complaining about it for that long, too, but Alex is getting increasingly annoyed.

“Then go behind a tree or something, we're in the woods,” Alex says, rolling his eyes as his warm breath turns into fog around his face. He holds his camera up to a dead tree, for some reason. He's responded this way for the past hour, disregarding your basic human need to pee. He couldn't care less if you end up wetting your pants. In fact, it might even serve as a 'I told you so' moment. That’s what he tells himself. Though, secretly, he has a different, less passive-aggressive motive behind wanting you to lose control.

“No! I’m telling you, that’s weird! What if a bird or a squirrel sees my dick or something.” Alex just rolls his eyes, completely choosing to ignore your genuine concerns of indecent forest exposure other than letting out an indignant sigh. You huff, kicking a tree stump only a few feet away from the tree Alex was focused on. Really, he could care less about whether you pissed your pants or not. He might even like it, it could be a good ‘I told you so’ moment. That’s what he told himself, anyway. In reality he’d like you pissing your pants for a very different, significantly less passive aggressive reason. 

As the next twenty minutes tick by, Alex is reaching his breaking point of annoyance, while you're bursting at the seams with urine. Shifting your weight back and forth, you continue 'whining', as Alex puts it, about needing to pee. Your absolute refusal to pee in the woods, while logical to you, is making Alex's filming process harder. So, it's either shut up and pee in the woods or shut up and wet your pants. Unfortunately for Alex, you're not complying with either of those options. You’re so uncomfortable; the pressure in your bladder is borderline unbearable.

“Dude, you're being really stupid right now,” Alex says, his back turned to you before he turns around, looking at the screen of his camera and periodically glancing up at you. “I mean, you seriously can’t be that against— did you just piss yourself?” Alex looks down to the very obvious. and, a decently large soaking wet spot in your pants. Your face is flushed a bright red as you look down to your pants, then moving your gaze down to stare aggressively at dead leaves. You’re completely over loaded with embarrassment, focusing on the nearest possible escape plan even though Alex had driven the both of you here. You hear Alex’s mildly sadistic cackling. What a supportive friend. “Dude! That’s really fucking embarrassing for you!” Alex nudges you a bit, taking time to catch his breath. “C’mon, look at me. That’s honestly really pathetic.” This is the part where you remember how much of a dick your friend is.

And even worse than the embarrassment is the way your body reacts to it.

You immediately cover your face with your hands, feeling the heat radiating off your bright red cheeks as Alex picks back up his howling laughter. “No, just— just shut the fuck up right now.”

“No way! You seriously got a boner over pissing yourself in front of me?”  Alex laughs harder, doubling over slightly as he does so. As Alex's cackling dies down, he collects himself and places his camera down on the tree stump. “Okay, okay we'll talk about that in a second, but don't you have a change of clothes in my car?” Alex speaks a little more genuine, but his voice stays laced with condescension. You shake your head in response to his question, cursing yourself for trying to save space in your bag.

Alex lets out a huff, pausing for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well, you probably don't wanna stay in those pants, y'know. It's gonna get cold soon and wet clothes are worse than none.” Alex tries to disguise his attempt at seeing you half naked and humiliated with half hearted concern. You saw what he was trying to do, but he was right. Any breeze that passed was absolutely freezing. So, with shaky hands(partially due to the cold, and partially due to your body radiating with embarrassment), and multiple thoughts telling you it was a bad idea to strip from the waist down in front of your friend, you unbutton your jeans and make very slow work of pulling them down. All the while, Alex is looking down at you with a strange amount of amusement on his face.

After a fair amount of time spent struggling to get your pants off over your shoes, you reluctantly look up at Alex. He takes a moment to adjust his gaze away from your crotch, only bringing more awareness to the fact you're sporting a hard-on in wet underwear. The look he gives you alone is enough to tell you to ditch those too, and so with a sigh, you do so. Now standing in the middle of the woods, half naked in front of one of your best friends, you begin to question just what led you here.

A train of thought that is, of course, quickly interrupted by Alex's horny gawking.

“You're really just on full display now, aren't you?” He takes a step closer, pushing up his glasses. He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you way too close to him considering the situation. He's very liberal with his free hand as he continues to talk, ignoring how rigid your body gets at the sudden contact. “It's… not that big.” He takes the opportunity to grab your dick in his hand, only wrapping a few of his fingers around to further emphasize his point. The redness in your face deepens as you shudder. You'd look away if you hadn't already been aggressively avoiding looking at Alex the entire interaction.

Alex begins to move his hand, going all the way up your shaft and back down, moving devastatingly slow. He couldn't help but lean in to kiss you, and you would've pulled away, you really would've but, he was just so intense, it'd be a sin to pull away. Unless, of course, it was for Alex to talk more. “You're such a fucking loser you know that? Getting a boner all because you pissed yourself? Or was it ‘cause you pissed yourself in front of me?” Alex doesn't give you a chance to respond before he pulls you even closer and kisses you again. He speeds up his hand, sufficiently getting you to moan into the kiss, and he takes that chance to force his tongue into your mouth. Alex places a firm grip on the back of your neck, kissing you roughly as his other hand returns to the slow, steady pace he had set before. You throw your arms around Alex’s neck, getting weirdly into the situation you have yourself in. 

Alex only lasts a few minutes like that before he flips you around, pushing you against the closest tree and pulling your hips against his, forcing you to bend over. He reaches a hand around, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue, keeping his fingers in your mouth for a few more seconds before taking them out ever so slowly. He puts his free hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into the flesh. His other hand finds your entrance, wet fingers pressing into you, pulling an extended whine from your throat. You hear Alex undoing his belt as he works you open, followed by a long sigh as he removes his fingers from your hole and replaces them with the tip of his cock. Are you adequately prepped? Probably not, but at least he had the decency to try.

You aren’t sure how long Alex has been inside of you at this point, but his pace has become unbearably fast, and his thrusts are so hard they’re shaking the few remaining leaves off the dead tree he has you positioned against. Each moan you release is laced with quiver as you make an attempt to tell Alex how close you are, but he seems to catch on. He reaches a hand around to hook his fingers into your mouth, making it impossible for you to form any words at all as he growls.

Alex hissed, sucking in a long breath through his teeth as he bottoms out inside of you. He barely gives you any time at all to adjust as he starts rough right off the bat. The side of your face presses against the tree with every one of his thrusts, and there's drool dripping down your chin from both your inability to close your mouth properly at the moment, and because of just how good he feels inside of you.

“C’mon, you pissed all over yourself, right? You can cum all over yourself for me, too, right?” You do your best to nod, drooling all over Alex’s hand as you moan loud enough to surely be heard from any nearby trails. Alex’s hips start to stutter, too, a sign that he’s without a doubt close to filling you up. You still cum before him, of course. Your muscles spasm, your legs buckling and struggling hold you up. It only takes a few more thrusts for your dick to twitch, sending spurts of cum that hit both your stomach and the tree you're pressed against. 

It can’t be more than a minute before Alex’s fluidity turns jagged, filling you with his hot cum, rutting his hips into you as he does so. Once his movements completely stop your chest is heaving. He slips his fingers out of your mouth, panting as he wipes your spit onto your shirt. He leans into you, holding you up by your hips as you let your upper half relax into the tree that's been oh so graciously supporting you this whole time.

“I’m so glad you pissed yourself, dude.”

“Shut up,” you’d be more irritated if you could muster the energy for it, but all you can gather is an exasperated sigh.

“We really should do this again sometime,” Alex says, his voice still breathy as he kisses the top of your head.

[petitelepus]

May request Slave!Akaza x Female Reader who was gifted Akaza on her birthday from her wealthy father

Summary: It’s your birthday and your father gets you something... Certainly interesting.

Warnings: Slavery, Slight Angst

A/N: Slave!AU, Demon Slaves, Akaza, Fem!Reader

Having a rich father had its ups and downs. You never went hungry, and your every need was satisfied, but at the same time, you couldn't be any lonelier.

Your father's money attracted people of all kinds and you could never be sure if someone tried to be your friend because they liked you or because they liked the idea of what they could get from you if they pretended to befriend you.

You had given up on the idea of having any friends after you learned that some popular girls had tried to befriend you in hopes of getting you to buy design clothes and jewelry for them. Your father would have probably done that for your sake, but you didn't want friends like that.

Well, either way, you were happier alone than with fake friends.

You were reading a book in your room when you heard a knock on your door. You put the book down and went to open the door when suddenly-!

"Happy birthday dearest!" Your father cheered and you blinked, stunned, "Dad?"

This was a surprise!

"How is my one and only dearest child going to celebrate her 18th birthday?" Your father asked as he pushed a huge bouquet of roses and other expensive flowers into your arms.

"You remembered?" You were genuinely surprised.

"How could I forget my only child's birthday?" He smiled and you couldn't help but smile a little also. This was awfully sweet of him. He was always so busy with his business that he didn't have much time to spend with you. For him to take time to see you like this, was a huge deal!

"This is… So sweet." You sniffed the flowers and smiled, "Thank you, Dad."

"And that is not all!" He smiled, "I got something very special for you, my special child!"

"Oh, what do you have in mind?" You asked and your father grinned, "You're going to love this!"

What might it be? You were genuinely curious to see what your rich father had gotten for you.

"Oi!" Your father looked over his shoulder and snapped his fingers, "You can come out now!"

Who? You were confused, but that confusion turned into shock as you saw… A man with bright pink hair and tattoos or markings all over his body step into your room. What made you so confused were the heavy chains on his wrists, connected to chains on his ankles with long chains… Was that a muzzle on his face?

That's when you realized that this man must have been a Demon… But he looked more like a dangerous inmate than a meek Demon slave…

"Dad, who is this?" You asked and your father grinned proudly, "This, my dearest child, is your new bodyguard!"

"You're giving me a slave?" You were stunned and honestly a little horrified. It was nothing new for people to have slaves, but you never really saw a reason why you would need one. It honestly felt weird…

"Why?" You asked and that must have been the wrong thing to say. The smile on your father's lips disappeared and he looked at you like you had just spit on his face, "Why not? You're always saying how lonely you are, right?"

Yeah, but maybe if your father would spend some time with you, you wouldn't be so lonely?

"Yeah, but…" You frowned as you looked at all the cuffs and chains on the Demon, "Why is he chained like that?"

"Ah, of course!" Your father got his smile back, "This Demon here is a top quality Demon from the Arena!"

"Arena?" You had heard of it and you already hated it. It was basically a place where Demons were put to fight each other until one couldn't go on, or worse, they killed each other. Demons were hard to kill, they regenerated so quickly, but with the right tools, they could be killed.

"That's right!" Your father was so fucking proud of himself, "This one has killed every Demon ever put against it! Cost me a pretty penny, but it's perfect for you!"

"Thank you, dad…" You bit your lower lip as you looked and saw the Demon follow your every move and action with his golden eyes. You swallowed nervously, "But why did you get me a Demon from Arena?"

"Why not?" The man laughed, "If I'm going to get you a slave, then might as well get you the best there is!"

"But why Demon from the Arena?" You asked, "Why do you think I need a Demon that can kill?"

"Because-!" He was saying and you scowled, "Because?"

"Because you're my daughter and you need protection!"

"But an Arena Demon? Why!?" You cried out, "Why can't you just-?"

Why couldn't he just spend time with you? Be the father you at least thought you deserved.

"Why!? So you won't end up like your mo-!" Your father fell silent as soon as he saw the hurt look in your eyes. You didn't talk about your mother… Not after what happened to her.

Your father sighed deeply as he placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Look, one day time will get me and you inherit everything I have. When that time comes, I won't be here to protect you…" Your father smiled as he pointed at the Demon, "But this Demon will be and it will keep you safe, no matter what. That's why I got it for you."

Well… Maybe he had a point…?

You sighed as you nodded, "Okay."

Your father raised an eyebrow at you, "Okay?"

"I accept your gift." You smiled a little, even if it was a little forced, and then you hugged your father, "Thank you dad."

"Anything for you." The man hugged you back lovingly. Times like these reminded you that despite being away mostly, you were still loved by your father.

When the hug was over, he dug a key from his pocket and gave it to you, "This is the key to your slave's shackles. Use it as you see best."

"I will," You nodded and smiled a little, "While we are at this, do you think we could maybe get something to eat together? We could talk and-"

You were eager to spend more time with your father, but the man's smile died and he shook his head, "Sorry dear, but I have a business to tend to."

"Ah," You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment, "Okay, I understand."

"You know what?" The man smiled again and patted your shoulders, "Order whatever you want! I'm paying!"

He was going to pay anyway, you knew it, but this way he made it sound more special.

"Okay dad," You smiled, "Thank you."

"Happy birthday, dear," He kissed the top of your head and looked at your new slave, "Be good, or else."

And just like that, he left, closing your room's door behind him and leaving you alone with your new slave. You looked at the pink-haired Demon and swallowed nervously. What now?

"Uh…" You muttered by yourself and weighed the key in your hand. Should you unlock his chains? Was he dangerous?

"If I take off your chains, do you promise not to hurt me?" You asked and the Demon stared at you… Then, finally, he nodded.

"Okay, just a second…" You nodded back as you carefully grasped the cuffs around his wrists and unlocked them, ones on his ankles following the wrists' example. Then off came the muzzle.

"Ah…" With all the chains and the muzzle out of the way, you could really see his markings all over his well-toned body… And his eyes…! They were mesmerizing.

"You're staring, young Lady." The Demon suddenly said with a small grin and you blushed and quickly averted your gaze, "Ah, sorry!"

"Why are you sorry?"

"Oh- I- Ah-!"

"Ha ha, you're special one!" The Demon laughed lightly, "I have never heard an owner apologize from a slave before!"

"Ah, sorry… I'm pretty new at this whole owning someone thing…" You chuckled a little, trying to hide your nervousness, "Do you have a name?"

"Do you want to name me?" He asked and you thought about it for a second, before shaking your head, "I think I'd prefer it if you told me what to call you?"

"Very well, young Lady." The Demon nodded as he smiled, "They call me Akaza."

"Akaza…" You repeated and nodded as you told him your name. The Demon repeated your name and smiled, "We better not get too familiar with each other. People talk and gossip, you must know it as a rich person?"

"My father is the rich one," You pointed out, "I'm nowhere near as wealthy, powerful, or influential as he is."

"But one day you will be, just like your father told you." Akaza pointed out and you hummed as you nodded, "I guess, one day…"

"Well, until that day comes…" The Demon hummed and much to your shock, he got on one knee and hung his head humbly before you, "I swear to protect you from anything and everything that might hurt in any way possible."

"A- Akaza, please get up!" You stuttered as you leaned down to help him up, "You don't need to act like that with me!"

"Then how do you want me to act?" He asked and you frowned, "N- Normally, I think?"

"This is normal, young Lady." Akaza pointed out, "I'm a slave and you are my owner, and if you don't want to stand out from other humans, you better treat me as what I am."

"But…" Your frown deepened, "I don't… I don't know if I want a slave?"

"Then… What do you want?" He asked and you didn't need to think your answer for long, "A… A friend? That would be nice?"

"I see," Akaza nodded and then he smiled at you, "Then, I shall be your friend."

You couldn't help yourself, you smiled brightly like the sun that Demons so much avoided, you were just so happy. But then he continued, "I'll be your friend, your guardian, your shield, and your sword."

"A- Akaza-!"

"And I swear, as long as I live and breathe, I will be by your side, to protect and keep you safe, young Lady…"

"I…" You sighed, realizing that there was no way you could turn the way he thought or acted, "Thank you, Akaza. That… That means a lot to me."

Surprisingly… That was not a lie or even a polite white lie. No, it was the truth, you were excited to see what you could do with Akaza and what adventures and such the two of you could get into together.

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[naivesilver]

okay okay so how about “what’s up, kiddo?” or “well, when i was a kid…” OR “pff. what are you, my [dad/mom/parent]?” from the parent and child relationship ask for, predictably, anyone court related (leroy, leona, lampwick, emma if you like)? basically, any thousand problems vers. because I love them very much (:

I have a suspicion that you put some of those suggestions in there knowing FULL WELL what you were doing 😒❤️

Parent/child prompts

"Pff. What are you, my [dad/mom/parent]?”

By the time Leroy's done chewing Happy up for his dumb idea and has climbed back onto the truck, the boy looks ready to fall asleep, his head lolling against the window as if filled with rocks. 

On a normal day, Leroy would be more than happy to let Lampwick conk out, because the gods know that kid doesn't get enough sleep, but as this is not a normal day, and rocks would probably make better decisions anyway, he slams the door closed and starts the engine with a little more force than usual, keeping the volume up as he speaks. “Oh, no, kid, you're not escaping this. Look alive or I'm leaving you at the dump site.”

Lampwick whines like a kicked dog, rubbing a hand down his face. “Nobody asked you to come anyway.”

“Doc asked. And it's a good thing he did, ‘cause if he'd let Happy drive after getting you pissing drunk-”

“You're making a big deal out of nothing. I had like- a beer.” The boy wavers, his eyes momentarily unfocusing before he snaps back into the conversation. “Maybe two beers. Or three. But it's whatever. Stop shouting.”

Leroy has to laugh, then, because it would be very fucking funny if he weren't so angry. “Give me a break. You're sixteen. That ain't a call you can make anywhere around here, you little idiot.”

“You do worse all the time, why're you getting on my case now?”

Good question. Why? Why did it set Leroy's blood boiling to find out this stupid redheaded brat was being offered drinks by his brothers - people he trusts not to drive a teenager to alcohol poisoning, at the very least? Why did his stomach sink alongside that, of all things?

He thinks he has some kind of answer, deep down. Unfortunately, right now he'd rather chew on glass than spit it out, so the next best thing is to snap “‘Cause if you don’t have the sense to know what you’re not supposed to be doing, you’ve got no business copying what I do, kid!”

Lampwick has the gall to scoff at that, thick skull that he is. “What are you, my dad? You’ve got no business telling me what I can or can’t do. I was having fun. If you can’t get off my dick about that, maybe I’m better off walking home, you know?”

That stings. Damn him, he probably doesn’t mean even half of it, but it still stings. “Yeah? Maybe I should kick you out, then- you’re stinking up my seat,” Leroy grumbles morosely. “Ungrateful little shit.”

But he doesn’t hit the brakes, and Lampwick doesn’t try climbing out of a moving vehicle despite his clear lack of survival instinct, so they continue on in morose silence for a long while, until the dwarf hears a sudden, suffocated mumble coming from his right. “Shit- Leroy?”

What now? “Yeah?”

“Think ‘m gonna be sick.”

He stops the truck with an abrupt screeching of tires, which is barely enough as is, because he has just about the time to get his foot off the brake before the boy has pushed the door open and is doubling over halfway out, puking most of his ill-timed party onto the side of the road. It’s a good thing it’s night, and not a particularly fair-weathered one at that - Emma likes that young knucklehead, alright, but even she would probably make him clean up the mess he’s just made in a public place if she was alerted, and Leroy too, for the misfortune of being around when it happened.

For his part, Leroy takes the time to curse whatever choice in life that’s made him less grumpy towards this one kid in particular, then climbs out of his seat and makes his way around the truck, waiting for Lampwick to take a breather between retches before he tries speaking again. “No use telling you to quit treating yourself like that, is it?”

The boy inhales slowly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his face so pale that his freckles look like little wounds under the streetlights. “You know that won’t do nothing, old man.”

“I figured as much. Can you at least promise me you’ll call me the next time the room starts spinning- I can’t rely on Doc forever, he barely knows how to use a phone.”

“Why? Don’t you got anything better to do with your life?”

“Yeah, I do.” Leroy rolls his eyes, praying for patience, but still when Lampwick keels over again his hand is there, pushing the kid’s hair out of his sweaty face.

“But so do you. You fix this shit first, and then I’ll stop answering the phone, deal?”

[tonydaddingham]

https://thesherrinfordfacility.tumblr.com/post/727753998120140800

I was generally asking/ranting. Your ramble made perfect sense and I do agree with pretty much all of it. I have more I must rant about though and I hope you don't mind me throwing this all in your inbox. It's not aimed at you specifically, don't worry.

Why did this fandom decide Neil suddenly thinks Aziraphale and Crowley are not in love just because he said two scenes were not sexual? The oxribs could be taken that way if you want, but it wasn't written to be. The kiss had nothing at all to do with sex and everything to do with a desperate being trying to make the person he loves understand. Neil saying neither of those situations were sexual does not mean Crowley and Aziraphale are not in love. He's said the opposite, along with both Michael and David, far too many times for years now for anyone to believe that. And yet here we are.

Just a few weeks ago we were praising the kiss as smashing the queerbaiting allegations and now half the fandom is right back to saying he's never really thought they were a romance. Insisting that because he thought the idea was odd several years ago it must mean he's lying about it now. That he and Terry didn't plan it this way since at least 2006. Or, even worse, that he thinks gay sex is gross and would never put anything like that in without being manipulated into it.

Because he said sometimes an oxrib is just an oxrib and a desperate attempt at communication wasn't at all sexual.

It's been giving off very strong feelings of "this queer romance doesn't count unless they have sex" goalpost shifting. We've already had more than enough proof that Aziracrow are completely in love, but unless they have sex then Neil's just a queerbaiting liar? Do people not realize how alienating that is to read as an ace fan, even one who wouldn't mind a fun sex scene?

It's also spitting in the face of a man who's been an ardent ally for longer than most of this fandom's been alive.

This rant is about people telling me I'm wrong for supporting this beautiful queer love story because two male-presenting characters aren't having sex and so it doesn't actually count as a queer romance. This is about people telling me I'm wrong for supporting the man who gave us this incredible story because he said two scenes aren't sexual in nature and so he is nothing but a manipulative liar. This rant isn't about defending Neil. He doesn't need me or anyone else to do that.

(for anyone that wants it, a direct link to the previous ask anon has copied above)

hi again anon!!!✨ personal thanks from me - im always humbled (and never have any objection to) when someone feels they can come to my askbox with these kind of commentaries, it really does make me so happy that they feel they can!

i just do occasionally worry if sometimes what im reading as an upset/angry tone (not saying yours was, it was just how i read it!) is a direct result of something ive said/done. so again, thanks for calming my anxiety surrounding that, and popping back to clarify!!!

now idk, by nature of this being a rant, if you wanted to get any answers from me or my opinion, but you're on my boat and im the captain, so it's a bit tough-titties im afraid💕 and once again, will probably repeat a few things you've put more succinctly than i have, but fuck it.

honestly? i cant even begin to give you a basic answer, anon, because i just... don't get it. i think from the tweet exchange that (kinda?) blew up, people took neil saying, "Why did you see it as sexual?" a little bit out of context. to my mind, the op of that tweet literally referenced "The very end of season 2", and that's what neil was responding to (and later confirmed in an ask); the kiss was never intended as sexual, exactly as you've said.

i think possibly some have read it as him being shitty about the concept of sex and specifically in reference to aziraphale and crowley, cross-referenced this with other things he has said (again, more than likely never meant in the context they're being interpreted), and arrived at the above conclusion. it's strange to me, because he has categorically stated that their relationship is intended by him as the co-author as a romantic one. at the very least.

now, he (and sir terry) may not have personally intended them to be romantic at the beginning. but a) neil has been very representative of queer culture and identifications in his other work; the queer element in GO is not exactly strange to be coming from him (ie it's not a bolt out of the blue, and therefore would be potentially performative or queerbaity). and b) as i said in the previous ask, there is a lot of queer representation in GO, of all different types, including gay/lesbian rep. it's not just aziraphale and crowley that are queer in the story, and therefore easily deniable - that's literally not the case. so i do not understand, on this basis, where people can draw the inference that he is homophobic. i just can't - that's a pretty hefty con to have played for so long and so diligently.

i think, from what ive seen, that one of the things that people take issue with is neil's assertion that as supernatural beings, any label as to their sexuality or gender (and how one informs the other) is not applicable to them. i think this has been seen as dismissive of aziraphale and crowley being gay and/or potentially having a sexual relationship. in my opinion, this assertion is narratively clever. first of all - no, they are not human, so on a very base level, sexuality and gender as constructs do not apply to them. they are originally gender/sexless. but this i think only serves to show that aziraphale and crowley are multiple things, and none of those things, all at once. they can be anything you want or interpret them to be, until expressly told otherwise in canon.

on screen, their faces and physiques and chosen presentation however, to my mind, present as human males. but, being crass, we do not know what genitalia or body parts they may or may not have at any given time. they have never described their sexualities (although, in aziraphale's case, assumptions have been made by others). so if you want to interpret them as cis, or intersex, or trans, or non-binary (including non-binary, genderfluid, agender, or bigender), arguably all of those are correct! the only confirmations we have had, iirc, are that, between them, they have used "he/him" pronouns, used the title "Mr", crowley has confirmed he is not a 'lad', and he has previously presented as female. no, human constructs do not technically apply to them, but that leaves their gender and sexuality open to interpretation. i personally hc aziraphale as a cisgender, gay male, and crowley as a non-binary, but usually male-presenting, bisexual person. others may agree, others may not. that the beauty of it!

narratively, these are two supernatural creatures that are, however, going more and more native - they have assimilated to and absorbed a lot of how humans present themselves and interact with each other, on multiple levels. as supernatural beings, they are practically alpha centauri itself (genderless, non-human things that are in a constant orbit and relationship with each other - and then throw in the fact that they love each other deeply). as supernatural-beings-that-have-been-on-earth-for-millennia, however, they are arguably becoming more like what i mentioned above - human. this to me, personally, means that they may identify as male and nb respectively, and may identify as gay and bisexual respectively, and (again, imo) i think would - at this stage - be open-minded to the act of sex. but as i said, once again, in my previous ask - it's perfectly valid if others do not interpret their journey this way.

This rant is about people telling me I'm wrong for supporting this beautiful queer love story because two male-presenting characters aren't having sex and so it doesn't actually count as a queer romance. This is about people telling me I'm wrong for supporting the man who gave us this incredible story because he said two scenes aren't sexual in nature and so he is nothing but a manipulative liar. This rant isn't about defending Neil. He doesn't need me or anyone else to do that.

about the above specifically? im really sorry that you're being faced with this, anon. that is grossly and completely unfair. i don't think you necessarily need me to tell you this, but in case you do - imo, you are completely reasonable and justified for reading them as a queer romantic couple that, canonically, have not had sex (and that this has no bearing on their love story). romance and sex are not the same thing, one can and does exist without the other, and the concept of that separation is not deserving of being pathologised. whilst neil certainly doesn't need anyone to defend him, i think it is always still nice to support the author that has written a story this beautiful, symbolic, and illustrative - and imo, not deliberately misunderstand what he has or hasn't said✨

[randommothxd]

long vent/story time/rant:

Besides the internet,I hate interacting with people because I hate speaking and not being able to be myself

I'll aways be werid and I've come to accept that fact.

I hate speaking because it just makes me uncomfortable.idk why we can't just write what we want to say.it improves our spelling and hand writting.plus,if you have a sore-throat,you don't have to worry about people thinking you're being rude! I just hate speaking so i hate talking to people

Not only that,I hate my voice and how whenever I talk I'm aways loud.

I.can.not.control.my.volume

I talk loud and fast.i spit when I talk because I talk so much and fast so it's gross so I just end up masking it by not speaking or speaking extremely slow so that I can't mess up but I'm still being annoying and I'll just never be normal!

Remember when I said I hate my voice?it's a insecurity and that's basically what i wanna talk about

This story is kinda long so sorry in advance

Storytime:

So,last year I met this girl named...

Mm,what should I name Ayla?... let's just call her Makeup!

Makeup used to be my friend

Last year,I was a really bad quiet kid.i would never show emotions,speak,dress up,laugh,I would cover my smile,I hated photos,I hated waking up,I wouldn't eat,and I was just very depressed at that time (still am but just different)

Until I met makeup

She was a really nice and beautiful/p extravert who brought me out of my comfort zone

She loved makeup and dressing.just a overall girly person.

She wore makeup everyday

I didn't care about that (because it doesn't matter) and just was happy to have a friend

When my depression was over,I became besties with her

We would talk everyday and hang out after school.go to places,work together and just be great friends

One day during break,she asked me "what's your biggest insecurity?"

Sense we were close friends,I trusted she would just comfort me about it and it would be all fine

"My face" I said.she asked "why?" And I said something about how I hate how ugly I am and shit like that

She didn't say anything about it after that for a couple of weeks.i thought it was werid but didn't think to much of it

This is when it gets worse:

During lunch she asked me "do you think I'm wearing makeup?" "No?"

She said "I'm wearing blush and mascara.you know,you should wear more makeup" "but I don't like makeup" "but it would make you look better" "I don't want it,I think I look pretty fine" I'm lieing when I say that but i didn't want to randomly tramua dump

The worse part,the part I remember the most:

"Girl,you literally have thick ass eyebrows!" She said

"Why would you say that...?"

"Because it's true.you're also growing facial hair! And your skin is dark (literally racism),you should put makeup on.it's for the best!"

I just stare at her silently with a disgusted face "why are you being rude?"

"I'm not!you have nice eyelashes!" I hate how people aways tell me about them.its not as good as you think

And everyday after that,she would make fun of me for my looks

I remember this in a kinda detailed way:

It was lunch again and I was eating next to her.she started to do her daily check-up on my looks (that I didn't ask for) until she said this

"Let me see your ears!"

"NO" I said very strongly.

My ears are one of my biggest insecurities

She said it again and I once again,put my foot down (kinda)

"LET ME SEE YOUR EARS" she started physically moving me so she could

being taller than her,she couldn't do much but she did actually harm me a little

She ended up yelling and getting really anger so I just let her see them

After it:

She just kept doing this until the last day of school when we got separated

We'll skip to now because what I did during summer (bedrot) doesn't matter

She's in one of my classes (how unfortunate)

She's in my paino class but that's it

I do see her during lunch and after school.when i do see her,I get extremely anxious and start to get more self conscious and think about what she did to me and how she was actually right and I'm being sensitive about this.

I get serious meltdowns over just the sight of her.why am I so overdramatic about this? I genuinely get upset everytime I look in a mirror

Kinda related:I hate my female body so much that EVERY SINGLE TIME I LOOK IN A MIRROR,I have a meltdown

THIS ISNT ME OVER EXAGGERATING IT/srs

I UNIRONICALLY CRY EVERYTIME

Anyways,going back to where we were before:

I fucking hate Makeup (the girl) and I wish to never see her again but I obviously will so whatever

Result/conclusion:

I hate my looks (more than I did before) and actually have more insecurities!! I now think I have AVPD (avoidant personality disorder) because I hate talking to people and have a hard time keeping relationships and forming strong bonds.i don't even really desire a friendship.i can talk to myself instead of people

This really only goes for irl tho

You can talk to me online,idgaf if you do

I actually encourage you do talk to me because I don't have anyone else to

All I do all day is just eat,listen to music,maybe draw,maybe read,feed cats,mayebe write,post online,sleep,and watch TikToks and YouTube videos

I really have nothing better to be doing so talk to me if you would like

I might not respond straight away because of school and stuff so beware

I'm pretty much comfortable with you talking to me about almost everything

Even tho everything I just wrote,I'm pretty good at comforting people (at least to my low standards and online friends)

Just don't talk to me about nsfw or show me anything nsfw

I'm a minor,Drake >_<

Anyways

Baii guys/gurls/and anyone else outside the binary! thanks for reading my vent,I really appreciate it.and just you in general.you're an amazing person,just know that :D

(Found these when scrolling☝️)

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary98

12/18-19/2023

monday - tuesday

8:32 a.m. and i am... idk.

i don't even feel tired really.

today my gf spent a lot of time with her family from jersey. it seemed like they weren't all going to go out, and then they all actually did. she and i woke up so late, but she went out. i didn't have to because i'm so sick. her mom brought me some medicine which is really kind of her. unfortunately, today was horrible for her mother. they all went to bars and stuff, my gf's brother made them do karaoke, it was basically a good night until my gf's mom dropped her off here. my gf was way drunk and we were busy with something when her mom started calling. the stuff ended, and then my gf called her mom, that was maybe 10 mins after. my gf was like, what's up, and i heard her mom on the other end of the line, weeping, totally a mess emotionally, talking about my gf's brother. he probably got pretty wasted too and got in some kind of argument w/ their mom. when he realizes his mom was just driving to her place, expecting him to either stay the night or uber home, he got even more livid. the argument was re: how unhappy he is with his current gf, how out of shape he is, she was probably sort of mean about it, i know she can get nasty w/ my gf, even me. i wrote here about the time she just drove off leaving us in the laundromat, and then coming back. she can be very bad, however, how my gf's brother reacted, is beyond sympathy. when he got out of the car, my gf's mom said something like "do you think you're better than me," to which my gf's brother decided to grab his mom by the collar, spit in her face, and say "yes i am and i'm only the way i am because you're a piece of shit". he then threw her drink in the face and wandered off. he also i guess cursed her out. my gf called him, and he admitted to the above, while simultaneously saying he didn't do anything his mom said, she texted the other family members he hit her, she didn't say that to my gf i think. i don't really know what he did, what he admitted to is bad enough, and the fact he doesn't think that's doing anything is insane. he probably did get more violent than he is willing to admit, he tried to play off what he did as something totally rational, and when he grabbed her by the collar he probably was really forceful with that. he is a piece of shit and he doesn't seem to understand how bad a person he is.

when i got sick, my friend in saudi arabia got sick at the same time almost, or it feels that way now. he got some kind of stomach virus. mine is comparatively less bad. now his little brother is bleeding from his ear. everything seems to be getting worse. it feels like this month began with a shooting, it feels like that obliterated everything before kind of, in terms of events or, like, anything. the memories are there but they seem so far away now. this month marks something in my life. a great expanse of the future opens, malady and terror for the living.

anyway, i really need to shower. guhhhh.

my mouth feels like hell too. too much salty food, there are sores in my mouth. everything is gross and painful right now.

i have showered. it's almost 12 pm tuesday. i've been up since like 4:30 pm yesterday.

i feel like i look pretty right now so i took a pic. ignore the blot on my upper lip . . . please .

i did not read tonight so maybe that's why my vanity is going unchecked (it's actually because i'm insane and feel the need to document whenever i feel pretty so i can look back on it and try to know that i'm not totally ugly (which feeds into the reading in another way (vanity is an impulse borne of the need to test that what you are is 'real' maybe))).

anyway in order to stop thinking about awful things happening in my life here's a picture i found while looking for photos of glass eyes;

it's so scary and twisted right? there's something so wrong with this image, i don't even think it's an insane photoshop, a girl did this to memorialize her mother i think. why??

it's a really powerful image, it feels like, dangerous, which makes me want to use it in something, but that seems maybe irresponsible. i might fuck around though. i just don't want to make something that seems like, to be interested in advancing any kind pro pig message.

anyways looking at glass eyes on flickr i found this super cute doll:

i love her outfit, it's the perfect kind of bright/grating. i'm hoping to do stuff like that this summer maybe. we'll see.

anyway, i am like, sooooo tired. it's almost 1 pm too. fucked up. i need to take more medicine too i think.

i am going to go take some pillzzz now.

i took my pillz and my stomach hurts now. that's cool. i took 2 acetaminophen pills (they were like horse pills too but the box said take 2) and then another decongestant. i wonder if i am gonna puke now. i keep thinking about puking today.

anyway to keep my mind off the pain in my stomach, uhh, i did fix one of the songs i keep trying to get right, now it needs brightening again but the vocals sound right i think, they don't sound fried and w/o any mids. the guitar in the left channel is a bit less squishy i think, all the really needs changing is i think the snare needs to be a touch brighter, and then the right channel guitars, and then lower the bass again i think.

i am really tireddd now so:

byebye!!!!!!

[stonewallsposts]

Art and Meaning

I have an account on a site called ArtStation, which I use to post my 3D stuff. 

Around Christmas, the site became flooded with protests against AI art. I was vaguely aware of AI art through my oldest son, who has been looking into programing along those lines. 

I've seen some stuff and it look mostly like realistic enough paintings of people. 

Then I heard this discussion on one of the DarkHorse Q and A podcasts. 

Someone asked the hosts' thoughts on AI as a tool to make art. 

Bret said it's pretty useful for destroying art, not making it. It can be useful for making something that can be sold for something that passes for art. 

Heather mentioned that, while she didn't really want to introduce what sounds like a cliché, it comes down to what art is. If art is an inherently a human endeavor, as she thinks it is, then no.  

They both mentioned that there have been elephants and monkeys who have put paint to canvas. Is it art? Something is being created, but what meaning does it have? 

Bret feels the essential quality of art has to do with meaning. Art is a two-way street: there is someone creating something, and someone interpreting something. If an AI process spits out a randomly generated composition from an algorithm that your mind interprets as art, then the interpreter will impose meaning on it, even when there clearly isn't any.  

I've held an idea for some time that I don’t think art has to have some meaning. I've got a bunch of stories relating to this too. But my basic idea is that art only has to be aesthetically pleasing. I say this in contradistinction to another theory of art that says art has to communicate something, or even worse, utter nonsense like it has to speak truth to power. I'm not sure art does have to communicate anything. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to think of anything that art has ever communicated to me. I learn things from books, from music, but I can't recall anything I've learned from looking at paintings. 

Sharing this with my boss one day, he mentioned stained glass in churches, which would often tell a story in art form. For parishioners who couldn't read, there is perhaps an element of conveying information to them that I hadn't thought of. That would seem to qualify as a genuine communication medium then.  

I also had an office mate for a while that said that she did actually gain perspectives from one particular artist. So that's maybe another example. 

I know with a lot of art I've done, I created it specifically for the color scheme. I can't really say that's devoid of meaning, but there's certainly no real attempt to communicate any deep truths in the composition. 

I've also heard what I'm sure is utter nonsense from art gallery directors. I had one explaining some abstract art by a peruvian artist, where the art director was assigning messages through the brush strokes in the art. I'm 99.9% sure that everything the art director said was pure invention. A sales pitch. Is that then an example of humans assigning meaning where there isn't? To my mind, if you like the abstract art because you think it looks cool, then by all means, splash the cash on it. But the pretension that happens in the art world from so much trash art than then has glorified meaning written in to it is, well.... I don't buy it. 

I can't even tell you how many artists I have seen paint a face, then drag a brush across it, and then expound how they are trying to get you to see faces in a different way. Ok, I think that's just pure BS. If you want to get me to see faces in a different way, then paint them in a different way, don't just mess it up and act like you're deep. There's also the god-awful, poorly executed crap that has an explanation with all the latest political buzzwords. I'm sorry, that's just hoping to sell schlock by telling the viewer there is meaning that isn't communicated in the painting itself. It's lazy and incompetent. 

I've seen art made by a woman with rather large breasts. She takes her top off, smears paint on her breasts and then "paints" the canvas using her breasts. I think Mick Jagger bought a piece for some 5000 bucks. The art looked like paint smeared on a canvas. That's a gimmick, not meaning. 

I watched one the other day where an artist had a woman swinging in circles from her ankles, her hair dipped in paint like a paint brush, and she was swinging over the large canvas with her hair making patterns over it. That's nearly as random as an AI generated painting. It has probably as much meaning. Is it art? Does it really mean anything?  

But then today I was thinking about a beautiful sunrise sky. There is a randomly generated pattern of clouds and the sun coming up bounces colors off them. It's beautiful, but was it created with meaning? I don't think so. We can find meaning in it- the beginning of a new day, new beginnings etc, but that's meaning imposed by the viewer, not meaning created by the sunrise. Nevertheless, it IS exceptionally beautiful. Maybe that's distinct from art.  

I also have memories and photos of things that are both beautiful and loaded with meaning, at least for me personally; places I've been, smiles and eyes I remember. Those things are beautiful because of the meaning.

And of course if I take a picture of a sunset, I can do so for a purpose, which would create meaning, but again that's different from the visual splendor of the sunset, which is beautiful on its own. 

Asking a questions like "what is art?" Can render different answers to different people. 

I've tended towards what is aesthetically pleasing. Period. 

But I'm starting to admit that perhaps there is more to the question that I had initially thought. 

Perhaps my stance was more reaction to pretense than well-thought out philosophy. 

[thetruearchmagos]

Well!

Tagging @theprissythumbelina and @the-stray-storyteller since you two are curious too, and I only want to write this once. Also @caxycreations on the off chance you're interested

Why Using The Term 'Strike Force' Is (Probably) Bad: An Arch 'Thing'

It's so bloody vague.

I don't have any evidence for this beyond sheer raw vibes, but I feel like the term 'strike force' gets used to describe any and every 'group' with even the most minute military or 'combat' connection solely because it sounds cool. This sheer overuse denudes the term of any actual meaning it could possibly have, since it winds up being used to describe organisations of nearly any size or purpose. It's starting to become a buzzword, frankly, and I expose myself to enough of those things to hate them in general.

The hell does this have to do with 'Strike'? Absolutely nothing, that's what, aside from the phrase 'being cool'.

On top of that, as someone who cares deeply about detailed military worldbuilding and puts a tonne of effort into developing the military organisations of the 12 Worlds, the use of 'strike force' just strikes me as lazy as all hell, when compared with either actually researching what the proper designation for a given unit could be, or coming up with an original system of naming units! Like, dammit I live for this stuff, give it to me!

Not 'fiction', but this one's soooo much worse. Like, you spit in my face by using 'strike force' here, you spit in my face. I hate this, and not just because using military-adjacent language for civilian politics is just messed up, yo.

And that kinda leads me to the bigger, much dumber and more selfish gripe, which this one is just an off shoot from.

Basically, I'm a nerd, and like a nerd I demand that media exists that meet my tastes at my level, and screw the rest of y'all!

This means when you start throwing around military forces, people, lingo, and so on, you do it with some respect. Having read buckets of military fiction that gets very specific and banal with their use of terminology as an explicit part of their appeal, I've spoiled myself into expecting that any media out there of any kind engage with these things to the same level, even if I know damn well that's not what they were written for. 'Dumb' portrayals of militaries or 'military coded' organisations tick me off to no end in general, and this whole 'strike force' thing is just one particular manifestation of it.

I've been told (by the comments section) that this scene is actually an excellent example of attention to detail when it comes to aircraft jargon. This is what I'm talking about, just 'military', or really in any specialised field.

So... that's about it! I could probably write an actual, 'serious' post on the portrayal of military activity in fiction, but that would long, hard to do, and probably deserves to go on Arch's Armed Advice assuming it ever exists. Until then, or oblivion, I'm signing off to do other shit because it's 8pm and I'm still busy!

Now that I'm most of my way through Rcane s2e1, can I just say I really, really hate the phrase 'strike force' in practically any context it's used in most fiction

[love-toxin]

shadysider sunshine

a/n: basically i rewatched the fear street trilogy and i could not resist writing this fic...

warnings: tommy slater x reader, camp counselor! reader, sunnyvaler! reader, pet names, "oh no there's only one shower" trope, kind of enemies to lovers but not really, shower sex, teasing, semi-public sex, bruising/hickies, unprotected sex, reader has an attitude, afab reader.

word count: 4k

"Dude, what are you doing here at this time of night?" 

You want to be mad about it, but even the lilt of your voice betrays your own entertainment with the situation. The last person you would expect to find skulking around your cabin late at night is the same person you've locked eyes with, the younger campers that were once his comrades having shrieked and fled the scene upon being caught in the beam of your flashlight. After having your shower and traipsing all the way back towards your cabin, hair still wet and your legs cold from the cool air against your damp skin, you just wanted to relax--but it never seems to work out that way at Camp Nightwing. 

Honestly, you're not even sure what to expect. It's not uncommon for the opposing teams, Shadyside and Sunnyvale, to play pranks on each other, but for the most part any counselor participation would be prohibited--especially when it's everyone's favourite heartthrob, Tommy Slater. 

"You gonna egg my cabin, Shadysider? Cause if you are, you're gonna have to be a little sneakier than that." 

His eyes widen and he looks around as if he hasn't already been caught red-handed, locks of light hair swinging about his face each time he turns his head. A quick glance down and he's got nothing in his hands, but that doesn't mean anything. As much as you hate to put the stereotype on people, especially kids, Shadysiders have a knack for getting into trouble with minimal effort. 

"N-No! Uh, we weren't...I wasn't…"

Has he really not noticed that he's been left afloat? He takes a further look around and seems surprised at the fact that his little campers are all gone, no doubt having sprinted back to their cabins to keep from getting caught doing...whatever they were planning to do. 

"Listen,"

He snaps to attention when you speak up again, in the midst of pulling your robe tighter around yourself. Even a blind man could see where his eyes fall when you do so, and as much as you don't want to encourage him, you just have to scoff and let a smirk work its way across your lips. How cute, trying to pretend he doesn't notice your current state of dress. 

"I really don't give a shit, I just want to go to bed. Congrats on the colour war, Mr. Slater, and try to keep your campers out of my cabin." 

You flick the flashlight off and pitch you both into relative darkness, with the moon being the only thing half-illuminating each of your faces. Honestly, you've spent the last hour or two comforting the disappointed Sunnyvale campers after their first loss, and Kurt's anguished cries of unfair play are still ringing in your ears. If nothing else, you just want one more good night of sleep before there's even more to contend with tomorrow. 

"You can call me Tommy, y'know."

It hurts how naïve he sounds. He really is such a goody two shoes, but you can't even really get on his case for it. It's just the way it is, and you'll be the first to admit that there's certainly much worse ways to be. 

"I know your name. I'm just messing with you, honey." 

A soft "Oh," leaves his lips, and….God, he's hopeless. Who wouldn't know his name, his face, or that innocent look that makes you feel like you're staring into the eyes of a lost puppy? Many of your fellow Sunnyvalers like to mock you for extending an olive branch to the poor, misfit Shadysiders, but they really aren't that bad. Well, at least some of them aren't. 

But jeez, you've never seen him so meek before. Tommy shifts his weight from foot to foot, and as far as you can tell in the dim light he looks like he's got something else to say. But he just can't seem to spit it out, and with a sigh at the tease of something interesting happening, you turn and flick your hair aside as you start taking steps back towards your cabin door. And just as you're in the midst of bidding your fellow counselor good night, with one hand set on your doorknob, you hear a shout of "Wait!" from just behind you and a force at your back that shoves you forward. Within seconds you're on the floorboards in the entryway of your cabin, flashlight rolled out of reach and dazed from the sudden push--and with a creak and a splattering sound you feel something splash all over the back of your legs, and you turn yourself around to see the carnage that lay between them. 

There, with half his body in the doorway and the other half on the stairs where he's come crashing down, is Tommy--covered from head to ass in blue paint. The bucket is already in the process of rolling down said stairs, surely having been propped on top of your door to stain whoever was unlucky enough to open it, and despite being so bold as to shove you out of the way, he grimaces at the fury that's written clear as day on your face. You want to curse him out so fucking badly, want to kick his stupid pretty face in for letting those shit kids of his do this, but you're so annoyed already that the anger almost cancels itself out as you take a deep breath in. Almost. 

"You're a dickhead." 

Only then does he scramble to get up, stepping back to avoid getting more paint on your floor only to slip and fall backwards on to his ass. And despite being ever so courageous to save you from such a stupid prank, you groan as you look down and find splatters of blue paint all over not just your legs, but your robe and your hands too. And he's absolutely doused in it, hair soaked through and his clothes totally marred by the thick paint, little bastards must have mixed it with something else to make it stick. At the moment it's not even worth it to try mopping it off your floor and the stairs, you just get to your feet and slam the door behind you, punting the bucket all the way into the bushes as you stomp past Tommy and head right back towards the showers. Again.

"W-Wait-! I'm sorry, I really-"

"I don't wanna hear it, Shadysider!"

What you also don't want to hear is his footsteps hurrying towards you, and yet he's caught up in less than a minute and matches your pace as you head towards the building just across the field. If not for the snatches of lamplight catching your faces as you walk, you wouldn't have taken notice to the panic in his eyes that softens the anger a little bit….but not enough to make you stop. 

"It wasn't meant for you, they thought it was Kurt's cabin, and I really thought it was! But it was dark, and I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, and….I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." 

You want to be mad. You seriously, desperately want to be mad enough that it none of it matters, that him hurrying to stand in your way and apologize makes no difference to you, and that the gentle grip he gets on your forearms to keep you focused on him doesn't make your heart flutter. Being touched by some guy, and a Shadyside one at that, shouldn't make you so weak, but it really does. The silence hangs heavy between you, nothing but the crickets and the sound of a warm breeze passing through the trees and rustling the leaves to pepper the quiet air. 

"...Fine. It's fine. Now, can we just go wash this shit off?"

The paint dripping down his face can't hide the relief that passes over it, yet when he has the mind to let you go, a soft "Oops," falls from his mouth as you both glance down to see the palm prints he's left on you. It breaks the tension in a way, though, as you roll your eyes and pull him along as he chuckles, another apology coming out as the two of you approach the steps to the shower block and slip inside. 

Lucky for you, for once, it's completely empty. The stalls sit open and the tiles dry, although it is pretty late at night and nearly all the campers should be asleep. But when you reach for the nearest one in a row of four to turn it on, your face falls and you groan for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

"Of course. It's past midnight. Only one of them is on."

Whatever kind of water-preservation bullshit they wanna keep going with just exists to piss you off, evidently--Tommy kicks his shoes off and follows close behind as you test each one, before finally reaching the double-wide stall where the handle squeaks and out comes a hail of fresh, warm water. 

"C'mon, I wanna get this over with. If we stand around it's gonna be harder to get off." 

His first instinct upon you loosening the sash of your robe is to turn his head away, a hand coming up to block his vision even though you've already caught the red tinge rising to his cheeks, and the giddy smile that he can't quite wipe off his face. 

"You sure?"

He says so with his eyes still averted, but the desire to sneak a peek is so strong you can feel it even just standing next to him. To you it's whatever, but it's obvious that this is his first time doing something like this--and as much as you want to laugh, you dim it to a smirk as you shrug your robe off your shoulders and toss it on the towel bench to your right. 

"We'll just turn around. It's no big deal...what, you afraid?" 

Stretching a hand out, you test the water to check the temperature, only distantly aware of the click of Tommy's belt behind you as he starts to undress. For some reason the sound stirs something within you, and you can't help biting your lip as you try to stifle the urge to turn around and look. 

"As long as you don't mind sharing the water with a Shadysider." 

Ooh, you can just feel the smirk on his pretty face as he teases you, finally seeming to come out of his shell the more he bares himself to you. He doesn't bother hanging up his sleeveless tank and his tight jeans, just tosses them in a heap on the bench for them to dry. They're probably ruined anyways, you can feel how thick the paint is as it dries on your skin, and you can only imagine how tough it's going to be to get it out of his hair. You try your best not to think of how he's gonna need help to do so, but you fail, just as expected. 

"Just get in, dummy." 

You can't help your smile either, and once the steam starts rising from the cold tiles, you finally step underneath the shower head and sigh at the feeling, the water like a warm blanket covering your body entirely and wrapping you in comfort you can't get anywhere else. At least, until Tommy's warmth shuffles closer and he sidles up behind you, his body so close that you swear you can hear his heartbeat from here. And if you really can, then it's thudding like the keys of a typewriter, so fast you pray he doesn't have a heart attack where he stands. But to say you aren't starting to feel the same would be a lie, a huge one. 

With your backs turned, you let him lean back against you as he lifts his arms, no doubt scrubbing the semi-dried paint from his scalp and squeezing it out of his straight locks. And you can feel his muscles tense against you as he works away, so toned and firm but with soft skin stretched taut over each one. When you raise your leg and steady it against the wall to try to rub the stuff off, you can feel him pause just as you did, but this time it's because you've leaned over enough to press your ass into his. He'll get himself into trouble being so innocent like that, but you keep your mouth shut for his sake and scrub until all that remains against your skin has a light hue of blue, which you suppose you'll just have to wait awhile for it to completely go away. At least it's not as bad as your hero, who you can tell is struggling by the way he grunts and mutters a "Damn," under his breath as you're finishing up your other leg. 

"Need a hand?" 

He huffs a sigh, and turns his head to look over his shoulder at you--the streaks of blue running down between his eyes should be enough of a tell, and trying not to be too conspicuous about it, you shift yourselves so you're face to face, and eye to eye. It's like a silent competition, the eye contact intense but the threat of embarrassment for whoever looks down first even more so, but that's swiftly remedied by Tommy getting up closer so you're chest-to-chest. Which, of course, means your tits are now pressed up against him, but the goofy grin on his lips is too cute for you to be mad. 

"Don't get excited, Shadysider. I'll be able to tell." 

"Will you now?" 

There's that cheeky tone, as if all his shyness has evaporated with the steam rising up all around you. You try to smother the heat that stirs in your belly because of it by reaching up and ruffling his hair with both hands, flicking little blue-tinted specks of water all over both of you and each of the walls. Once you've had your little giggle session together you feel the stress ebb away, and it grows more comfortable as you wash the paint away and watch it stream down his body with the running water, highlighting all those features that make the girls go crazy and the other guys jealous. Before long he's nearly back to normal, his hair as clean as you can get without shampoo and his body washed clear of any blue residue, and you're almost disappointed that you're done when the water starts running clear.

Or, maybe not, based on the growing stiffness against your thigh that's beckoning for your attention. Your gaze drops and finds his once again, his grin having shifted to teasing laughter as he realizes it too. 

"Sorry, can't help it. You're just too pretty, sunshine." 

Stupid, stupid, stupid heart, pounding so hard in your chest you can't even think straight. And him sliding his arms around you to hold you tight to his chest isn't helping, at least the pattering of water against your bodies might mask how stuttered your breathing has become, even though nothing can hide how both of you keep stealing glances at each other's lips. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

At this point, he doesn't even need to ask. Shadyside, Sunnyvale, who gives a fuck--you can't say no to that sweet face, so innocent on one hand yet with such intensity and lasciviousness in his eyes. You're the one who closes the distance between you, your breath stolen away by how unexpectedly soft his lips are. He's warm, unsurprisingly, and somehow you can feel gooseflesh on the back of your neck that prickles the hairs there, and sends a shiver racing down your spine that has you arching your back into his embrace. 

And everything moves much faster after that. Tommy takes a step forwards and then another, and before you know it he's backed you up against the wall, hiking your leg up around his waist so there's nothing stopping you from each other. He makes his hands useful by feeling you up from the hips to your chest, and when he's got every inch committed to memory and you've hooked your other leg over his waist, he shifts you up once more so you won't fall and loops his arms under you to press his palms against the shower wall. And with nowhere better to put yours, you wrap them around his neck and lean into another kiss on the way, maybe just to make sure your moans are swallowed into his mouth when he finally starts to enter you. 

For a supposed virgin boy, he really does make your head go blank and your limbs melt into jelly as he feeds every inch of himself inside you. And with nowhere to rest your feet to take the pressure off, you push your tongue past his lips and let his have free admission, just to try and stifle those noises that might just turn into screams of pleasure if you can't stop them. He's so thick you can barely wrap your mind around it, and your body can barely fit it--but he waits for you to start gushing like there's no other option, his playful chuckle like a mumble from his mouth to yours as he starts thrusting. Your defense mechanism certainly isn't lasting, however, since he breaks the kiss just to press his forehead to yours and gasp for air as the shower's rain pours down his back. 

"What's my name, sunshine?" 

The answer's ripped from your throat by a particularly hard buck, his cock so stiff that when it hits you as deep as it can go, all the air you can manage is sucked into your lungs and blown out in a moan so loud it rings in the empty shower block. 

"Tommy! Tommy, Tommy!" 

He nudges your face aside to bury his own into your neck, tonguing your sensitive skin before he scrapes his teeth along it and jolts when you clench around him as a result. And when you finally start to relax into the rhythm and grind your hips down to meet his, he steals your breath away again by sucking down hard, and leaving what you know will be a damn sore bruise behind that you'll have to scramble to hide tomorrow. That is, if you can even get out of bed, because at the moment you can't even feel your legs even as they're shaking and trembling as they hang over his hips, your pussy stretched to fit him and filled so deep you feel like a virgin born anew. And with each rock of his hips you can feel that end coming closer, like you're hurtling towards it with no way to fend it off so you can enjoy it a while longer. When it finally comes with one good, hard thrust that has his wiry little hairs rubbing up against your clit, the blinding heat that bursts inside you spreads to every limb of your body and leaves nothing but shivers behind. It feels like your veins are copper wire blazed through with an electric shock, and burned behind them to leave nothing but an empty warmth. And if Tommy wasn't still buried inside you, you would say it was quite empty indeed--but then he's scrambling to lift you off his cock, and when he's leaned you back against the wall on unsteady feet, he coaxes himself to his own end with his hand all over your stomach. It's mesmerizing to watch him, face twisted in pleasure as he milks himself dry like he's marking you, and once he's collapsed into your tired body with his chest heaving, you wonder if this isn't the first time he's cum to the idea of you. 

For a while after that, it's quiet, save for the two of you breathing as you wait for it to go back to normal. After a few minutes of just holding you, he takes a step or two backwards and pulls you with him, standing you under the shower head so he can move you around and rinse you off like you did for him. Not just your belly covered in his cum, but the sweat and spit from your little romp too--he even spreads your legs apart and slips a finger inside you, making sure to lean away from the water spraying over you when he pulls it out, so he can slide it into his mouth and suck it clean with a goofy grin on his face. 

"So,"

He breathes, the air warm against your damp skin as he reaches around you to shut the water off. 

"You like the Shadysider experience?"

You press both palms to his chest to lean away as he laughs, diving in to pepper kisses to your face and your neck as you roll your eyes and kiss his forehead at the first chance. 

"You're such a dork." 

You can't even pretend to have any venom behind that. He's too earnest as he leans over to grab your robe, and only then seems to realize your newest predicament. His clothes are still covered in paint, and with how crusted and dry they are now, you doubt he would even be able to wrestle them apart from each other without ripping them. Unless he wants to streak across camp, you'll have to find another option. 

"Here,"

Instead of letting him hand it over, you push the robe back into his hands, much to his surprise. 

"Go back to my cabin, and grab me some clothes. I'll wait here." 

The realization seems to cross his face, and as swiftly as he can manage with something definitely not his size, he ties it loosely and takes your face into those big, gentle hands. 

"Be back soon, sunshine."  

To be pulled into a kiss like this, brief but sweet and with a twinge of passion, you can't equate it to anything else. You watch as Tommy slips on his shoes, hurries out the door and heads towards your cabin, no doubt doing so in a rush so that you don't get chilly waiting for him in the airy building.

And as you stand there, bracing yourself against the cool breeze that parts the sticky summer heat, you wonder when you fell in love. Maybe it's not really love, but it could certainly turn into that soon, if things keep up as they are. You just can't wipe the smile from your face as you wait for him, eager to see his toothy grin as he rushes back to see you again, and it's a feeling unlike anything you've experienced so far. Your time has been short but the years have felt long, constantly filled with your Sunnyvale brethren not only mocking the Shadysiders to hell and back, but hounding you for pitying them and showing them some modicum of kindness. 

At least, if nothing else, you can say that it's paid off. This moment is the happiest you've been in a long time, so much so that a tune makes its way to your lips and your humming echoes off the shower walls. Your mind wanders so contentedly that you don't even hear the creak of the door opening and closing, and only notice the presence when the sound of footsteps thudding towards you grabs your attention. They're quick at first but they slow as they get to you, and though a shiver runs through your body from nowhere, a soft whisper falls from your lips as a shadow casts itself across the floor in front of you.

"Tommy?"

[elvisabutler]

ride it, my pony

summary: your boyfriend has been holed up with elvis and bones all night. you would like some attention. he never can say no to you. fandom: elvis 2022 rating: m pairing: steve binder x gender neutral reader word count: 1209 warnings: thigh riding. use of the words baby, sweetheart to describe the reader. choking with an ascot. minor cum eating? like basically lick your fingers clean. public play. ...voyeurism. you'll see on that last one. author's note: welcome to day 16 of kinktober, thigh riding with steve binder. this was fun. the twist came to me at work where trust me i lived a very weird day so of course that's what comes from it. i know i am now...two days behind but i'll catch up, have no fear.

"Babe, you have got to be quiet." Steve murmurs against your lips as you pull him into the open control room. There's only a few of you still in the building, but Steve is very aware that if you both get caught he's going to have to answer to the higher ups and that is a headache he does not feel up to dealing with. Not while also dealing with the biggest pain of a manager he's ever met in the form of Tom Parker.

You laugh softly. "I know, I know, be quiet so no one hears us. What do you think, Elvis or Bones is going to catch us? Bones has run into us enough in weird positions and Elvis is- Elvis. He's probably done worse. It'll be fine."

He just looks at you and frowns before sitting down in one of the chairs. He pats his thigh. "Come on, I've got maybe ten-fifteen minutes tops, we've got to make this quick or E's gonna-"

If Steve had more to say it's swallowed up in the bruising kiss you give him as you center yourself onto his thigh. Fifteen minutes was not enough for Steve to have sex with you, you are aware of this. IT is enough for him to be able to get you off though and that's the real crux of the issue. Your tongue slides against his, exploring his mouth in ways you normally wouldn't when you two need to be quick but he's been busy and you want to show him how much you missed him. When you pull back there's a bit of saliva that trails between your lips and you find that you want to see that over and over. Another time, perhaps.

Your hips start to gyrate on him as you use his shoulders as purchase, it's not perfect, not by any means, but it's getting the job done. The motion sends just enough pressure between your legs that you groan a little, seeking out more of it. Steve's watching you use his thigh as your way to get yourself off and he wonders why the two of you have never tried this before.

"Look at you. You're so needy tonight. Jealous I'm spending time with EP and not you? So jealous you had to come in while we're working?"

Your eyes had fallen shut, trying to focus on the sensation of you rubbing against him. Trying to focus on how his hands are gripping your hips so you don't fall and they're almost tight enough to bruise. At that though, at what he says your eyes shoot open. "Jealous my boyfriend is spending all night with Elvis Presley. Maybe a little. I did like him in his movies. Viva Las Vegas when he was all wet. Maybe I should have dragged him out here- he would have-"

Steve takes the opportunity to bite your neck, it's a tiny nip but it's enough to drown out your words in a muffled whimper. Steve's focused on the doorway, focused on the dark spot in the doorway but you don't notice as you're facing the other way.

"You're on my thigh, babe. He wouldn't know what to do with you. My sweetheart, my minx. You'd chew him up and spit him out." His thigh moves to meet your gyrations, chasing after the space between your legs to add more pressure, to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. "He'd be talking too much you'd have choke him with his ascot."

Your eyes light up for a moment before your hand moves to his neck, playing with the ascot he has fastened around it. A smirk crosses your features as you pull just slightly, earning a cough from Steve. "I'd have to choke him? Mr. Binder. If I didn't know any better you want me to do that to you. Can't stay quiet either?"

He can still talk, just barely but it's softer this time, closer to a murmur against your ear. He takes one of your hands from his shoulder and moves it down to his clothed cock pressing against his slacks. "I feel like I'm going to come in my pants like a teenager, sweetheart. You know how loud I get."

You growl something that's practically inhuman at the knowledge, your speed increasing as you hear a bit back moan that sounds just a little deeper than Steve's but write it off as your boyfriend losing himself to the sensation of you on against his thigh. The pressure isn't as consistent as you'd like but you can feel something building, feel the heat coiling in your lower abdomen as Steve starts whispering more filth the tighter your grip on his ascot gets. "Babe, should have had you take off your pants. You're gonna make a mess of yourself and I can't clean it up. Promise tomorrow, later- We'll take a few hours break."

The image that comes to mind has Steve between your legs, taking his time with you, his mouth on your most intimate parts earning moans and groans as your hand yanks at his hair. Your answering whine has his grip on your hips tightening as you move faster, desperate to cum for him- for both of you. One of his hands, the one not on your hip moves between your legs, under your slacks as you thrust in just a certain way that has you biting back your moan of pleasure and practically flopping against him. You feel Steve shudder against you, your grip on the ascot making it a little hard for him to do anything but a whimper as he follows you. He pulls his hand of your slacks and finds that there's a bit of cum on them. Your hand at this point has dropped down from his ascot and you eye his hand, watching as he just licks the cum off his fingers with a smirk.

"Steve-" You start before he pulls you in for a kiss.

"Later, babe." A pause. "We're still gonna be here for a while, why don't you go home and clean yourself up. I'll- I'll call you when I'm going to leave, okay?"

Your answering pout almost does him in, almost makes him forget that there's another person in this room that only he can tell his here and almost makes him take off your clothes. He has a job to do though and you- he wants to keep you to himself. You sigh.

"Promise? No sleeping at the studio?"

He puts his hand up and does a scouts' salute. "Scout's honor, babe. Now, go. Love you."

You hop off him, adjusting your slacks and underwear before rushing out the door. "Love you too!"

Steve stays sitting down for a good five minutes, listening to his breathing as well as the mildly heavy breathing of the person in the shadows. He moves to stand up and walk out the door, prepared to shut it before he stops at the threshold. "E, next time you want to watch me and my partner, give us a warning. They're mine and I'm not really big on getting them stolen from under me by you. See you in five."