#That might be why he didn't do a very good job with it.

[stxrslut]

BEG FOR IT 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; ceo!rafe x pa!reader

summary; getting in trouble with your boss is never good in any sense, but with the particular personality that rafe cameron has, you know you're in deep shit, no matter how completely accidental or unintentional your mistake was

content; abuse of power, boot humping, dacryphilia, humiliation

authors note; none

there are better situations to be in than yours, that’s for sure. walking towards the office of your boss, you wonder why you ever even decided that the business world would be a good place for you to step foot anywhere near, no matter how small or insignificant your role in it really is. 

making a decision that could put this whole corporation at risk without even running it by anyone was never your intention, never your intention at all. it was a mere accident, you thought it was something random and unimportant you were doing, until mr cameron called you.

on the phone his voice had reeked of suppressed rage, even though he was quiet and calm, and he didn't use too many aggressive words, you could tell, you could tell because his voice had inadvertently struck the fear of god in you. 

his office is on the very top floor, which allows for plenty of thinking time on the elevator ride up, forty five seconds to be exact. in that forty five seconds you decide that you are willing to do absolutely anything to keep your job. the elevator stops and you step out, making your way to his office.

“come in,” he says in a composed sentence, but the fear is still there when you hear it. you push the heavy door and step inside. his desk is alone in the middle of the room, a large cushioned chair seats him behind it. there are large windows that span from floor to ceiling across the whole back of the room. there are a couple of hallways at the sides that lead to other meeting rooms, and youre also aware of a small private living quarter, though, even as a personal assistant, youve never had the liberty of entering them.

mr cameron is sitting in his chair, supposedly signing paperwork. he doesn’t look up when you come in, “you know what you did,” he murmurs lowly, face not faltering from that hard icy expression youre so intimidated by.

you immediately resort to being pathetic. “I'm so sorry sir! i didn't know i swear, i didn't know what i was doing.” you step forward, speaking quickly and panicking obviously. “I will never do it again! from now on i will double check everything, i promise.” his eyes finally flick up to you and he raises an eyebrow before leaning back in his chair. 

“you have put this company at risk,” he begins calmly, “if I wasn't as high in my field as I am, this would be an unsolvable issue, we would be done.” he informs you. you feel like your heart might drop out of your ass. 

“well it is solvable right, so it's okay?” you say tentatively. you need this job, he knows you need this job, there's absolutely no disguising it to him that you’re desperate. “please dont fire me, I'll do anything.” 

he watches you, like he's studying your facial expression and trying to read your thoughts. “you'll do anything?” he raises an eyebrow in a questioning look. that one sentence you uttered has now opened a whole new world of possibilities to him.

you nod quickly, “yeah! I'll take overtime or– or I could run more of your errands… uhm.. i could start bringing you lunch every day, i can–” he cuts you off by silently raising a hand and shaking his head.

“those are all things that you are already expected to do.” he says, “to keep your job you would have to do something… outside of your contract.” his tone changes, and you suddenly realise that he wants you to do something twisted.

you can think of the type of thing. and god, it would be a terrible thing for you to do. it goes completely against any moral you’ve ever had, to do a sexual favour in order to keep your job. it's twisted, if it ever got out your career would be ruined everywhere. but your career is already ruined if you don't do it. you can't afford to lose your job.

“what… what do you need me to do?” you swallow thickly, the shame already swallowing you whole at the implication of the actions you may be about to perform. you become aware of the unlocked door, what if somebody walked in right now, you would be fucked.

“come here and kneel.” he speaks curtly, pushing his chair back so there's space in front of him. you’re practically shaking with trepidation as you ever so slowly kneel down in front of him. your skirt rides up as you do, leaving you almost uncovered, completely visible if he was just a little bit lower down.

you expect him to say something, give you a command, but he doesn't. what he does is unexpected. he puts his foot forward. that's it. he extends his leg and places his foot right in front of you. shiny black dress shoes that look practically new, not a single scuff on them.

you frown in pure confusion. you are completely taken aback. what is he even expecting you to do? he knows that you don't understand and so he leans forward to clarify, “sit on it, grind on it.” your face twists in unexplainable emotion. “and then beg me for your job.” 

you feel every moment of pride youve ever had slip away as you rise up and shuffle forward so that one leg is on either side of his foot. then a tear slips down your cheek as you slowly lower down to place your panty covered pussy onto his shoe.

it's a sudden sensation, the laces are rough against your sensitive area. you don't like it, but oh, the pressure does incite an involuntary sensation of pleasure there. you can't help it, it's only natural. mr cameron knows it too.

your movements are shaky as you start to push your hips up and down, subsequently grinding down on his shoe. you wobble a little, not knowing if you should grab his leg for support and so you play it safe and don't. 

“you’re not begging.” he tells you, his tone so unbothered that it makes you wonder how many times he may have had someone do this for him. you take a moment to bring yourself to look at him, but the moment you do the pathetic words begin to roll off your tongue like they're the only ones you know.

“p-please. let me keep my job.” you cry, “I have debts, I'll never- uh- I'll never be able to live without this pay.” your voice is all broken apart, every time there is a twinge of pleasure down there you have to let out an uncontrollable sound. “I'll never make this mistake again mr cameron.” 

oh it goes on for minutes. long, shameful, disgusting minutes. you don't stop talking, begging, grovelling. your words only become more incoherent though, as the pleasure grows, you have no choice but to hold him for support.

your movements become erratic and he watches you. a sick smirk is planted on his face as he watches. It brings him a sick sort of pleasure to see you so desperate. he takes pride in the way he's taken advantage of you, he doesn't care how horrid or immoral it is. 

it escalates more when that knot forms in your stomach. you can't keep begging, you are overtaken by pleasure. for a few seconds you nearly forget about the situation you’re in and then the pleasure comes to an end.

your head snaps up to him immediately. you decide it's safe to stand back up again and so you do. “sir..” you say tentatively, hoping, praying even that he will now at least consider letting you keep the job.

he is silent for a moment before he looks up, “i have an errand for you to run.” 

you nod immediately, happy at the insinuation that you still have some sort of duty, despite what you have just been made to do for it, “of course sir, what do you need.” 

“take my shoes to be polished.” 

[blitzwhore]

No no no listen because you're so right, but also. Stolas is the ONE person Blitz believed he couldn't hurt. No matter how cold, or harsh, or dismissive, or careless he was, Stolas—in Blitz's mind—simply could not get hurt, physically or emotionally. After all, why on earth would the actions of someone as inconsequential as him have any repercussions on the life of an immortal prince of hell?

It isn't until Western Energy that he learns Stolas isn't physically indestructible. And it isn't until The Full Moon that he realises Stolas also isn't emotionally untouchable. And it isn't until Apology Tour that Blitz fully grasps Stolas is literally just a person. Not some untouchable, god-like figure, but a person, just like him. Just like everyone else.

And so now, Blitz has to live with the fact that, for however many months their arrangement lasted, he actively hurt Stolas without meaning to.

And I say "without meaning to" because when Blitz hurts others, he's very aware he's doing it. He knows full well he's being an asshole, knows he's actively proving to others and himself that he's a worthless piece of shit. But—and here's the key difference—he also knows when to stop.

We've seen it over and over again: when he tells Loona he loves her and will never replace her; when he softly reassures Moxxie that he's doing a good job and is capable of so much more than he realises; when he tells Millie she's more capable than anyone he knows and deserves good things in her life. Yes, it's true: most of the time, Blitz behaves like an asshole toward the people he loves. But he'd never hurt them enough to actually damage them. He knows when his people need him—the real him—to take care of them. He knows how to be there for them, to some capacity. At the very least, he knows how to show he cares.

With Stolas, he never paused, never back-tracked. He never fathomed there was even a limit that could be crossed. He never contemplated that Stolas could need reassurance, or words of affirmation, or genuine connection from him. Even when Stolas was actively offering and asking for connection, Blitz simply couldn't fathom it might be genuine.

And now that he's realised that Stolas did need those things and Blitz withheld them, it haunts him. It haunts him that he didn't take Stolas' hand in Ozzie's, that he didn't accept Stolas' invitation afterwards; that he didn't believe Stolas' confession, that he yelled; that he didn't reach out, didn't touch or hold Stolas while he cried.

Blitz cares. Blitz always cares. Hell, all Blitz does is care. But because of his trauma, he keeps his love for others very carefully locked away, and only lets it show when he senses that those around him need to hear him say it.

And now he has to live with the fact that he never said it to Stolas when he had the chance.

Physically ill over the fact that, when Blitz was being tormented by memories of his worst moments and biggest regrets, one of them was pulling away from Stolas's hand at Ozzie's

He's so upset that he didn't take the chance to open up 😭 and I can't help but wonder how many times he's gone over those moments in his head, moments where Stolas offered closeness or affection and Blitz cut him off, because he couldn't let himself believe that Stolas cared about him

[resident-idiot-simp]

You can write something where someone makes a sarcastic comment about Wade's appearance, and Logan defends him. with a lot of angst/comfort

(Sorry if my message is not very understandable I am French and use google trad 😭)

(your good my friend Google translate is probably better than my grammar anyways)

Wade was used to the weird looks and whispered comments that came with his appearance. He was used to it but that doesn't mean he enjoyed it

Logan had been shocked the first time he saw his face he hit it well but it was still obvious. Logan however had gotten used to it he had lived with all kinds of mutants with different appearances It wasn't any different.

He was also familiar with how others looked at those who were different and he had always hated it. He hated it every more because this was Wade. Wade who he loved who had saved him.

It was a normal day when it happened they were in the park with Mary and Laura who was actively trying to climb a tree a little way away.

The two of them were talking minding their own business when a comment caught their attention.

"Jesus Christ what happened to that freak?"

Wade froze and shrunk in on himself as Logan held back a snarl. Laura was the closest to the man who made time comment and had hopped out of the tree. She was glaring the man down lips pulled into a sneer.

Logan made his way over as Laura had started cursing the man out in Spanish. "Pup back off." Logan called to her. She turned and responded in clipped Spanish, 'WHY HE WAS INSULTING POP!?'

Logan too switched to Spanish responding, 'I know but I'd rather get in trouble then you.'

Laura scoffed but didn't continue her tirade. Logan turned back to the man scowl obvious. "The hell is your problem man?"

"MY PROBLEM?! First of all what the hell is wrong with her!?" The man said gesturing to a pissed Laura.

That's didn't help Logan's anger, "Sorry if the pup is protective of her pop. Lord forbid she gets pissy because you can't watch your mouth."

The man puffed up indignantly, "What's so offensive I'm just asking questions ."

Logan wasn't an animal he wasn't an animal he was better then his base instincts he was. Laura was growling now and Logan had to get ahold of this before blood was drawn.

"Look it's not my fault you are being an insensitive prick with no tact." Logan shot back and the man just rolled his eyes, "Oh I'm sorry for pointing out the obvious how dare I."

"Is that how you treat all vets?" Logan drawled and that stunned the man silent. Logan didn't allow that, "No keep going if that how you treat people who were tricked and tortured?"

More silence

"What nothing to say? Thought you were just stating facts?" Logan needled and again nothing. Logan leaned in this time to where only Laura and the guy would be able to hear him.

"I've killed people for less then what you've just done. So go before I decided I'm doing a community service." Logan pulled back and flashed abnormally sharp fangs.

The man ran off and Logan just scoffed.

Wade was still shrunken in on himself and Logan hated it. He shared a look with Laura before walking back over. "How about we go harass Weasel? We might even be able to get a job out of it."

Wade's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Only if I can start a bar fight." He bargained. Logan rolled his eyes, "You were going to do that anyway bub."

[lanawinterscigarettes]

also had a joe goldberg x reader x love quinn idea where reader accidentally murders somebody and has to call both of them to help clean up the body? like you probably know that they’re murderers anyway so you really need their help to get rid of any evidence.

I love this idea so much! I hope you like what I did with it <3

Safe Haven (Joe Goldberg x fem reader x Love Quinn)

Warnings: there's a creepy guy/brief implied attempted assualt (nothing actually happens don't worry), murder/violence/gore, some hurt/comfort

Goddamn it. This wasn't supposed to happen, was what immediately popped into your head as you watched the blood trickle down from the cracked skull onto the pristine marble flooring.

You'd been at the bakery, getting things all closed up for the evening. Usually Love did it, but you offered to do it for her since you knew how hard she'd been working lately. The woman needed a break.

She thanked you with a kiss and a hug, telling you to not take too long before leaving you to lock up. You'd been wiping down the counters when you heard the bell over the door start to go off, signaling that someone had come in.

That's odd, you thought, a frown pulling at your lips. Most people in town knew what the bakery's schedule was, so why would they come in right before closing?

And then you saw the guy, and your heart dropped, sinking to the bottom of your stomach like a stone in a lake. You didn't know his name or anything like that, but he'd been showing up every day for the past week trying to hit on you, even after you'd politely declined his advances.

Why would you need him, after all, when you already had Joe and Love in your life?

"Hey, pretty thing," he greeted with an overly charming smile that made you want to hurl. Pretty thing. He didn't get to call you that.

The only people who had the privilege of calling you pretty were Joe and Love. "Good job, pretty girl," they'd coo when you completed a task or behaved good for them, the way you were supposed to.

Your hand instinctively went to clutch at the rolling pin Love always kept behind the counter. It wasn't unusual, as she did work at a bakery, but you knew full well the real reason it was kept back there: for times like these.

"What, not even a hello?" He joked, though you could tell just from the look in his eyes he was offended by your lack of a greeting.

"We're closed," you tried to state firmly in the most even tone you could muster despite how your heart was racing in your chest. You weren't stupid, that much was sure. You knew what men could be like, and you didn't trust this guy as far as you could throw him.

"The door was unlocked," he said with a casual shrug, as if that made any difference. Oh, how you wish your partners were here right now. Love would have no shame in getting all up in his face and telling him off, and while Joe might not be as assertive as she was he wouldn't hesitate to protect you either.

"We're still closed. You'll have to come back in tomorrow." Even if your voice did waver slightly, you knew you were brave for standing up for yourself.

The guy, however, merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. "C'mon, don't tell me you're still playing hard to get."

"I'm not playing hard to get," you snapped back in turn, your anger starting to take control over your fear. I mean, just who did this guy think he was? "I'm married, thank you very much."

Okay, maybe that part was a bit of a lie. You and your partners hadn't officially tied the knot yet, but that was only because you weren't sure that marriage with a throuple was technically legal. They had, however, given you a small ring to symbolize how they hoped to marry you someday, which you kept on a chain around your neck so people wouldn't question it as much as if it were on your finger.

Still, the guy seemed to buy it, even if the information didn't faze him much. "So what? I'm married, but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun every now and then."

If you didn't like him before, you certainly hated him now. It was hard to hide the look of disgust on your face as you replied. "No, thank you. I'm repulsed by your offer."

That certainly got his attention. "The fuck did you just say to me?" He spat out in response to your words as he approached the side of the counter.

"Y- You're not allowed back here," you protested weakly, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly stalked closer.

"You think you're better than me, huh? You think you're better than me just because you're faithful and I'm not?"

So desperately did you want to retort with a snarky yes, but now really wasn't the time. "Stay back," you warned while picking up the rolling pin and holding it up defensively in front of you, your entire body seeming to be made of rubber as you cowered in fear. "Or I'll- I'll-"

He let out mocking laughter as he moved even closer, now standing less than a foot away. "Or you'll what? What are you going to d-"

You didn't even let him finish the sentence before you tightened your grip on the rolling pin and swung it hard, smacking him upside the head. There was a loud thud, and you saw the blood on your makeshift weapon before you saw it on him.

Not daring to take the chance that he was only mildly wounded, you kept at it, hitting him again and again and again, over and over until his body laid crumpled on the floor beneath you, no longer moving. Your hands were shaking as you dropped the rolling pin, instantly reaching into the pocket of your apron so you could pull out your phone. You'd need help getting rid of the body, and you knew exactly who to call.

Love was most likely busy making dinner, despite all of your protests and insistence that she needed to take a break and let someone else handle it for once. Your assumption was soon confirmed when Joe ended up being the one who picked up the phone.

"J- Joe," you choked out his name, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes as you sunk down onto the floor. "S- Something happened. Something bad. I- I need you and Love to come help me, please."

That was all you had to say for his casual demeanor to drop as he instantly went into protective mode. "Of course, baby. Where are you at? Are you still at the bakery?"

You nodded your head before realizing he couldn't see you. "Y- Yeah. There was this guy, and- and I did something bad to him."

He was quiet for a moment when you heard talking in the background, Love asking what was wrong and him responding accordingly before he spoke to you again. "Okay, just stay where you are, alright? Take a few deep breaths and try to remain calm. We'll be there soon."

It was hard for you to even imagine staying calm right now when you were so freaked out, but you knew you had to try anyway. "O- Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too." With that, he hung up, and you filled the silence of the room with a long, agonizing wail of disbelief at what had just happened.

You killed a man. Like, actually killed him. And now he was laying there, dead, in the middle of the floor at your partners' bakery.

It didn't take very long for them to arrive. Love immediately rushed over to where you were still curled up on the floor while Joe checked to make sure the guy was really dead.

"Hey, baby, hey," Love murmured in a low and soothing tone as soon as she saw you were crying. "Don't cry, don't cry, baby, it's alright. Me and Joe are here now, and we've got you, alright? We're not going to let anything happen to you."

You sniffled and nodded your head, allowing her to pull you in for a warm hug. She smelled like a mix of spices and baby powder. She smelled like safety, like home.

"What happened?" Joe asked a moment or so later, once you'd calmed down enough to give them a coherent reply.

"He- he came it right before I was about to close up," you began in a shaky voice, your hands trembling. Love gently grabbed them in hopes of helping to calm you, giving them a reassuring squeeze that said it was okay for you to continue. "And- and he was, like, flirting with me, I guess. But in a really weird, 'I don't care what your boundaries are' sort of way."

Love's grip on your hands tightened, her eyes flashing with a look of quiet rage. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

Joe knelt down next to you and shot his wife a look that said not now, signaling that her anger would only make you more upset. "What else happened, hm?" He questioned in a soft tone, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder in an act of quiet comfort. He was just as upset as Love was, but unlike her, he was much better at hiding his emotions.

"He- he tried to ask me out, and I said no thank you, that I was already married-" If you'd been less shaken up, perhaps you might've noticed the look of possessive affection that flickered across both of their eyes when you spoke. "-but he didn't- didn't care, and I told him the offer alone repulsed me when he said that it didn't matter because he was married himself, and-"

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to blink back the fresh tears that were welling up in your eyes. They spilled down onto your cheeks regardless, and Love reached a hand out, gently wiping them away. "Go on," she muttered quietly while Joe's hand moved from your shoulder down to your back, rubbing it in circular motions to help keep you calm.

"He got really mad when I said that, so he started to come behind the counter, even though I told him that he couldn't, and I was- I was really worried that he was going to try to- to do something to me, so I-" You shut your eyes, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as you recalled the events that previously happened. "I hit him with the rolling pin that's kept back here until he stopped."

"Oh, honey..." Love cooed sympathetically as she pulled you back in for another hug, Joe's hand still resting somewhat protectively on your back as she did. "You know, I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself. We both are."

"Yeah, this wasn't your fault, sweetie. If you hadn't of stopped him, who knows what would've happened?" Joe chimed in, both of them doing their best to make sure you didn't feel too bad about the situation. "Tell you what, we'll get this all cleaned up for you, and afterwards we can go home and cuddle while we watch one of your favorite movies."

"And I can make you your favorite snack for you," Love added while pulling away enough for her to look into your eyes. "How does that sound?"

"S- Sounds good." Your voice was quiet and the smile you gave them was weak, but at least you weren't hysterical like earlier.

"We just need to get rid of the body first," Love said while standing, Joe still crouched down on the floor next to you. "Okay, you get started on that while I make them something hot to drink." She instructed to her husband, who immediately got up to do as she said.

They never worked better together than when you were in some kind of trouble. It was one of the rare times they could boss each other around and it wouldn't lead to some kind of argument between the two.

You simply watched from your spot where you were huddled up on the floor, trying not to become nauseous at the thought of how exactly they planned on getting rid of him. You hadn't even looked directly at the guy's body the whole time since it happened, too afraid to, as if you were worried at any second now he might spring back to life.

"Here, sweetie, don't look over there at what he's doing." Love's gentle voice cut through your thoughts, making you focus on her instead. She knelt down next to you as she spoke, turning you away from the body as she wrapped a blanket around your shoulders before handing you a steaming mug full of your favorite warm drink. "Careful, it's hot." The loving smile she had on her face made it difficult for you to think about anything else. "You stay here for now, okay? Don't go anywhere. We'll come get you once we're done."

"Okay," you said simply at her orders. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your face before getting back up and going to help Joe. You blew on the hot drink before taking a tiny sip. The temperature was so hot, it was almost scalding, but you found that the burning sensation it left behind on your tongue only helped to make you feel better.

You weren't sure how long it took them to get the mess cleaned up, but by the time they were finally done your mug was empty and you were starting to fall asleep. "Hey," the quiet voice of Joe spoke, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "We're done now, baby. Let's go home, okay?"

It was hard to tell if you were so tired because of how late it was or because of the excitement of what happened, or if maybe Love had slipped something into your drink to help you calm down some. You wouldn't put it past her. Regardless of the reason, it was difficult for you to stand because of your sudden drowsiness, which he gladly helped you with.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur to you. All you could remember was falling asleep in the car ride home, and one of them carrying you inside before laying you down in bed. The next morning when you woke up, you were being cradled between the two of them, their arms wrapped around you in an embrace that was both warm and safe.

Although you were certain of the events that had happened the night before, it was all beginning to feel like nothing but a bad dream, one you hoped wouldn't plague you ever again. Part of you knew just how unlikely it was that either Love or Joe would ever leave you alone again after that, but you couldn't find it in you to be bothered much by it or to even care. You were much safer around them, anyway.

End notes: I really loved writing this 💕💕

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[rottmntrulesall]

Anyone else find it weird that Alastor, the Radio Demon, made a television commercial even though it’s been stated that he doesn't like modern technology?

I’ll say this: it would’ve been a nice opportunity to see him do the same commercial (as a radio broadcast) inside his station. Him being an old-timey or into radio seemed to be a part of his character and what contributes to his rivalry with Vox.

[ach-sss-no]

...gollum dodged a great eagle?

how can one character be both the most competent and incompetent character in lotr

>dodges great eagles and elves and aragorn and who knows what else >walks right into mordor and gets tortured

>finds and retrieves the one ring when sauron couldn't >immediately dies

(I am accepting LOTRO as unassailable canon at least for the purposes of this stupid post)

(external link so this stupid post won't show up in searches hopefully)

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

I've never heard of emts working only at events? What's that like for you if you don't mind my asking?

Yeah, there are ambulance companies that staff certain events, but there's some event specific companies out there lmao. For me specifically, it's almost entirely college events, whether it's happening on a campus or not. It's not great, usually pretty boring, but it's better than being on an ambulance or in a hospital. We do get actual emergencies sometimes, but usually it's just getting drunk people to the tent or giving out water and bandaids lmao. Again, boring as fuck, but I chose this over working on a 911 rig, so that's on me 😔 if I'm being so real tho, other than my coworkers, the best part of the job is the food lmaoooo it's so good and all the food trucks/food booths give discounts or free food to us depending on the location and event. And there's almost always a ton of downtime, so I basically just get paid to sit there and vibe for the most part

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[theroundbartable]

We should have gotten an episode in which someone tells Arthur that there was like a cute new barmaid/foreign traveler in the tavern.

Around that time some major events happen around magic which is why Merlin keeps disappearing so much.

Arthur connects the wrong dots and questions Merlin about it. Merlin tells him that it was just a good night with friends (he doesn't know about the new barmaid/traveler at that point). But all those friends say that they haven't been at the tavern that day. Even GWAINE.

So, Arthur goes undercover to spy on Merlin and his little 'date'. It had never bothered him before, but now that Gwaine mentioned something about that new person searching for a partner to settle down, Arthur is worried that Merlin might want to quit his job.

Problem is, the new person also happens to have magic, and Merlin found out and is trying to find out what their intentions are. So, he actually does go out with them once (casually) and they become friends.

Arthur learns that day that he's terrified of losing Merlin.

Arthur: Merlin, I heard you've made a new friend

Merlin: yeah. Sam. They work at the rising sun. I'm trying to help them get settled in. I didn't go there to drink, I promise.

Arthur: hmm... You plan on seeing them again?

Merlin: yeah.

Arthur: Do you like them?

Merlin: you know, I'm not entirely sure yet. Definitely more than you though, haha.

Arthur: *on the verge of panic already* You should be careful. New people in Camelot tend to be sorcerers quite often, you know!

Merlin: ... That doesn't mean they are all evil. Will was a sorcerer, remember? And I liked him very much.

Arthur: *having a complete meltdown* what?!

[liliavanrougelover]

You like his housewarden?

Summary: You ask for advice on asking out his housewarden

Characters: Vice-housewardens (platonic)

A/N: If you saw me post this right after the vice-housewarden one, no you didn't

Trey Clover:

He’s happy. You trust him with this information and want his help? He’s glad you trust him. He’s so willing to give you advice and it’s so helpful. He won’t tell you that Riddle likes you back and he won’t tell Riddle that you like him. “I can’t say for certain, but I believe Riddle would enjoy roses. A strawberry tart would also help-” (It’s just actual advice).

Ruggie Bucchi:

He’s ecstatic. Not that you like Leona, but that you asked for his help. Why? Well, he’ll help for a couple of thaumarks. He’ll even give you legitimate advice. Just hand over the thaumarks and his advice is all yours. It’s not that hard, is it? “Let's say 50 thaumarks. That’s too much? My knowledge is very useful so of course it’s a little expensive.”

Jade Leech:

He smiles. You picked the wrong eel for the job (Either of the tweels would be bad). He’s a little shit. He just tells you that Azul would like anything (which is true) and then walks away. Next thing you know Floyd’s running over asking you about your crush on Azul. Jade told him about it. “Azul would enjoy any type of confession. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to class.”

Jamil Viper:

He sighs. He’s so done. He barely gives you advice before walking away. Kalim asked him yesterday for advice on confessing to you and then you ask him for advice too? As long as you’re not playing some long con to steal from or hurt Kalim, he doesn’t care too much. “A stuffed animal would probably work. I have work to get done, so I have to go.”

Rook Hunt:

He’s not surprised. He already knows you like Vil and he’s equipped for this situation. And of course you would go to Le Chasseur D’Amour for this task. No one’s more qualified. He’s giving you advice before you even finish asking. “Roi du Poison would accept most confessions from you. What you should be asking is what not to do. You see-”

Ortho Shroud:

He’s so happy. He’s smiling so big (or the robot equivalent). You like his brother? His brother likes you! His big brother won’t be sad and lonely his whole life. He has advice, but none that’s really helpful. He tried at least. “Oh, well my big brother likes cats, so you could bring a cat when you confess. And you might have to confess outside his door.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

He has a cheeky smile. You like Malleus and you're asking for his advice? Well, he did raise Malleus, so he can’t blame you. He’s so excited for you, but he won’t tell Malleus. But, he told two other people. After all, Silver and Sebek aren’t Malleus. “Oh, you made a good choice by asking me. I’m pretty much an expert on Malleus. So first off-”

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part three | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part one part two masterlist tips

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 707,890 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: working up a storm and flirting up a frenzy

view all comments

user3: SHE'S BACK

user4: that month she was gone was dragging

user5: i almost forget she has a job lol there's always so much drama i forgot girly was getting the bag

danielricciardo: oh what a lovely picture of you two being gross at dinner i wonder who took it

yourusername: it's this lovely gentleman, i'll have to introduce you. he's quite loud, very charming and should consider going into theatre with his vocal projection

danielricciardo: you think i'm ready for the stage?

maxverstappen1: i think we all think you're ready for the stage

user6: wait so do you think daniel, heidi, y/n and max go on double dates? that's so cute

user7: sometimes i hurt myself by thinking it could've been a triple date if charles wasn't such as ass

maxverstappen1: when she's a triple threat 😍

yourusername: but i can't sing, dance or act?

maxverstappen1: but you are smart, beautiful and can put up with me :)

yourusername: you act like being with you is a chore maxy :( i'd spend all my waking moments with you if i could

landonorris: i'm sending these ^^ comments to my therapist, you guys make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: sorry dude

yourusername: lando !! let us play matchmaker ??

landonorris: i'll let you play matchmaker just don't let max have too much input

maxverstappen1: why not i clearly have good taste?

user8: anyone else wondering whether y/n and charles actually spoke after he was seen outside her building?

user9: i was thinking about that too ... i'm guessing they either didn't or it didn't go well by the fact that he's no where to be seen here

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,203,500 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: new weekend, new helmet. this one was designed by the love of my life who put her architecture degree to good use to make me this beautiful lid. love you y/n hope to bring you a trophy back in return 🧡

view all comments

user13: max being the resident grid sweetheart was not on my 2023 bingo card

yourusername: no worries max, it was an absolute honour to design a helmet for you.

maxverstappen1: it's an honour to wear something designed by you

yourusername: call me the adrian newey of helmet design

maxverstappen1: that's a big shout, that i'm inclined to believe

redbullracing: adrian gives his stamp of approval y/n !

user14: i swear in an older charles vlog y/n spoke about how she always wanted to design a helmet for him :( i'm glad she finally got to do it

user15: no shade but at least this helmet might actually win the race lol

danielricciardo: cute lid, is y/n open for commission?

maxverstappen1: nope she's mine and mine only (unless you're paying)

yourusername: what he said

user16: i just know charles is screaming, crying and throwing up rn

user17: probably not, people stop being friends all the time, he's got more than one friend and is a millionaire, he's living his best life

user16: his track record says otherwise, he's extremely petty, he probably can't handle that max and y/n don't care about him anymore

user18: tbf from what we saw charles was looking to reconcile, it's more y/n who has been unreasonable

user19: i think she's well within her rights to refuse forgiveness and from reports charles never apologised, this has been a pattern of behaviour for years now. she deserved better, she's now got better

liked by maxverstappen1

user20: i love that max likes all the shady comments about the situation cause i know y/n would never

charles_leclerc

liked by arthurleclerc, carlossainz55 and 908,344 others

charles_leclerc: always make time for your real friends.

view all comments

user21: if there's one thing men will have, it's the audacity

user22: well this is an interesting response

user23: are we meant to clap?

arthurleclerc: what happened to the plan?

charles_leclerc: than plan failed in the minute she closed the door in my face

arthurleclerc: call me, but also stop making excuses

user24: yes it is logical to do this offline arthur, but consider this, i want to read the drama

user25: but at this point how is it drama? it's just charles being stubborn. y/n gave him a full explanation and by the look of it he didn't do a very good job with it

user26: the thing is i honestly believe that however bad the apology would be y/n would still forgive him. they've been friends for so long i think she honestly wants it to work out but shit like this does not help his case

carlossainz55: mate i am so confused

charles_leclerc: what's so confusing? she can say that this has led to her finding "the real thing" but i can't?

carlossainz55: but if you wanted to reconcile, you look like an asshole

charles_leclerc: fine, make me the bad guy like everyone else

user27: charles is really in his whiny boy era lord

user28: all i know is that y/n and max are probably at home having the laugh of their lives

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,095 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln was in the red bull garage this weekend with verstappen's family. max won this race wearing the helmet she designed for him.

view all comments

user31: they are the cutest couple on the grid, perhaps of all time

user32: they're defo on the way to that, if they get married could defo grab best couple of all time

user33: the way she still stopped at ferrari to talk to arthur and wish him and charles luck ... clearly there's a bigger person here

user34: y/n is already so close to the verstappens, her and sophie and victoria were together all weekend.

user35: my friend had a paddock pass and overheard sophie asking y/n when she'll be giving her more grandkids

user36: OMG WHAT? what did y/n say?

user35: that she'd have to be mrs. verstappen first

user37: do not play with me right now if we get the charles and y/n friend breakup and y/n and max engagement all in one season my brain may explode

user38: if max weren't winning every race anyway i'd defo say that this is the lucky helmet

user39: i mean grand slams aren't that common, so maybe it is

user40: max win and charles disasterclass, the best weekend possible for y/n

user41: i don't think she actually wants charles to do badly though, she wouldn't have wished him luck..

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,405,649 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i've won a lot of races this year but my biggest win of all was your heart. here's to forever together ❤️

view all comments

user42: i think i just saw charles drop to his knees in monaco

user43: i mean they can still be friends? there was never any romantic feelings he's just being weird about being in the wrong and it being max

danielricciardo: i'm so so happy for you guys, you deserve this so much. all the happiness to you, i shall assume my position as best man effective immediately

maxverstappen1: bit forward to assume that you're best man mate

danielricciardo: wait, i'm not best man ?

maxverstappen1: i joke, you are, of course, the best man and i can't think of a better man for the job

yourusername: just don't go too crazy with the stag night, i've heard about your nights out back in the day (seen the videos too)

danielricciardo: i don't know what you're talking about, we'll have a boys night in, a round of uno and he'll be ready at the altar right on time

user44: why am i actually so happy for people i don't even know

yourusername: i can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my life, red bull drive babysitter and cat mama

maxverstappen1: i think jimmy and sassy might just be as excited as me (maybe)

yourusername: i know i can tell by all the holes in my shoes

maxverstappen1: we all have our ways of showing love, some bites holes in shoes, some like to follow you everywhere

landonorris: the way max could be either one

maxverstappen1: ummm i'm trying to be romantic stop accusing me of biting my fiancee's shoes

yourusername: don't worry maxy, i'd still marry you even if you bite my shoes

user45: this is an amazing thing and not to bring the mood down, but do we think y/n will invite charles to the wedding?

user46: max could as well, they are friends, even if charles is trying to use their rivalry as a 'reason' to be angry at this relationship

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,206,782 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i am lost for words. i never knew i could love someone as much as i love you, and it is my biggest honour to spend the rest of my life with you.

view all comments

user47: she has really won at life i'm so happy for her

user48: who knew being ditched in corsica would be so good for a girl

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you more than you could ever know, couldn't think of a better mrs. verstappen-y/ln

yourusername: i can't wait to have matching last names

user49: wait is max also going to take y/n's name?

maxverstappen1: yep and couldn't be prouder to have her name

yourusername: awww maxy i love you

user50: so... did charles get an invite?

charles_leclerc: no. so much for moving forward.

yourusername: i won't let you ruin this announcement for me. let the postal service do their job. please get your shit together before you rsvp or fuck off, i have no problem burning that invite.

user51: oof.

landonorris: congrats guys, do me and daniel get a prize for listening to the years of pining that led to this

yourusername: you can get a gold star?

landonorris: make it solid gold and done.

yourusername: girl.

maxverstappen1: if red bull ask whether we drank on this getaway say no

yourusername: we defo didn't spray champagne like we were on a podium and then eat our weight in pasta

maxverstappen1: i had to celebrate my girl :)

note: hiiiii, i know this was highly, highly requested and i hope this has met expectations. i've had real bad writers block and some shit going on in my personal life, so i'm not the happiest with this but could see another part if i get enough ideas lol. thanks for reading <3

[tbaluver]

Spending Halloween With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: fluff, slightly silly, might be ooc maybe a/n: hi everyone! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა happy halloween! are any of you all dressing up? :o what are you guys plans! lmk <3 i apologize if im late i know it might not even be halloween for some of you when i post this but i hope you still enjoy ! if you don't celebrate it, i hope you still have a happy day <3

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier didn’t celebrate or see the appeal of Halloween before until he saw on his phone of couples doing festive activities together. Whether it was you or him that suggested doing anything for this month, he wanted to spend these experiences with you this season and every single one in the future.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Costumes. He might accidentally misread your text and accidentally dress up as an actual peanut costume while you dress up as a jar of jelly.

Honey and Bear Costume. This was his idea because you’re his ‘honey’ so it was very fitting for him to dress up as a bear well because-

Prince and Princess Costume. He would definitely look good as a Prince but he’s not dressing up by himself without his princess. Unless you had a different costume in mind, he doesn’t mind wearing the prince costume by himself

He wouldn’t mind giving out candy or doing trick or treating with you but he most prefers cuddling with you while watching a spooky movie. Does not flinch when a scary scene comes up but he’ll make sure to pull up the blanket over you when you’re scared.

If you two were to go trick or treating he'll make sure to give you all your favorite sweets on your pile and will take the ones you don't want.

Zayne:

Doctor Costume. Not just any doctor, a neurosurgeon doctor. He would explain to you that being a neurosurgeon is a costume because it’s different from his job and that he already had his costume set up. Of course he does. You would have to explain to him that he needs to find a different costume that’s not a doctor. A costume that doesn’t involve him similarly from his real job.

Vampire Costume. When he finally caves, which didn’t take that long, he took your suggestion on being a vampire. A vampire usually looks very sophisticated and elegant which was already fitting for him so all he needed was the cape and some fake fangs

Before you both started to give out candy, you both took a stroll around your neighborhood to appreciate the decorated neighborhood in the area.

Your shared home would be decorated for Halloween. Just right outside your door would be the pumpkins you both lovingly carved and selected together from the pumpkin patch. They all sit together with a candlelight flickering inside them to illuminate the intricate designs you both made.

It wasn’t even close to midnight and almost all of your fun size candy and chocolates are gone. Until you found the culprit in the kitchen caught red-handed as he was about to unwrap the next one in his hand. You guys might have to visit the dentist next week.

Rafayel:

Rafayel didn't really understand why humans dress up and beg random people for candy on this day so he's never really done anything for it. But if you wanted to do something with him for Halloween, with no hesitation he try to do anything with you.

He’s either the type to dress up with the most intricate and well thought out costume that he had made throughout the year with you. It would either be dramatic and some high quality costume or he’s the type to dress up as something very specific. Like a random scenario specific to mess with you. “I’m you when you slipped in the shower.” or he’ll dress up as a silly looking fish and say that it’s you.

He would have SO many ideas of what costumes you both could do or what would look good on you that he ended up making all the costumes in the end. I think he would love dressing you up as Lemurian the most, thinking you would look embody the beauty. So the whole day was just a fun little dress up day for you both and many many photos of you saved with your beautiful or silly costumes.

He would also definitely uses his artistic skills to carve out the most beautiful pumpkins with you.

Sylus:

Vampire Costume. Do I need to say more? Kids would ask, if they weren't scared of him, if his crimson eyes were real and he would definitely act the part and play vampire.

Red Riding Hood and The "Big Bad" Wolf costume. He loves the color red on you and the way the corset of your dress compliments your figure.

Devil and Angel Costume. A little basic costume if you two didn't have enough time to prepare a matching one. Although he does love seeing the color red on you, you are his angel and his dove so he doesn't mind being the devil.

You two would enjoy the evening by the cozy fireplace as you wait for the trick-or-treaters to knock on your door. He would pour you a cup of your favorite drink before he pours himself a glass of wine.

He’s definitely the house known for handing out the biggest candy bars and secretly loves it when he hears how children think his home is the coolest because of the mountains of candy he’s given them.

He does give out a little too much but he wants to make sure every kid leaves with an overflowing bag. Honestly he probably bought a warehouse full of candy so you don’t run out for the night.

[seonghrtz]

𝑣ideo 𝑔ames. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 508 words + warnings. occ sukuna | sukuna reacts to ship videos.

Sukuna never imagined he would become a famous streamer.

It all started when he started playing games to relieve stress ⸻ something that didn't work out very well ⸻ and the idea of streaming came from his younger brother, who had commented on it as a joke, but as Sukuna had nothing to lose, he started streaming his online matches. But apparently people liked Sukuna's explosive personality. So he kept doing it.

Popularity came with time and what started out as something simple became one of his jobs. With the help of his best friend Uraume, he organized his schedule between his day job as a tattoo artist and his streams.

His videos were all over the Internet, including his fans, who made compilations of Sukuna's best moments (whether he was winning or cursing all the descendants up to the seventh generation of his opponents). It turned out that anything with his name on it went viral, for better or worse.

And Sukuna got a lot out of the whole situation. He didn't care about the comments about him ⸻ the haters didn't get to him even though they tried very hard. In fact, Sukuna didn't care about anything.

But that started to change when his name started to be associated with the name of another famous streamer.

Sukuna didn't understand all this association. They were two streamers from different niches, with different audiences. While Sukuna played horror games with lots of shooting, the unknown streamer was into games like Hello Kitty and Gris.

They were complete opposites.

So when he opened the livestream to start playing, within seconds the comments section was filled with fans asking him to react to some videos.

"Okay, I'll fucking react to this video." Sukuna rolled his eyes and clicked on one of the links that took him to an edit.

In the edit, there were moments from some of his streams and others from the other streamer, while Video Games by Lana Del Rey played in the background.

"What the fuck?" Sukuna looked at the camera as if it were a person. "Why are you editing this? I don't even know her! We've never even spoken a word!”

Sukuna clicked another link that opened another edit ⸻ but with a different song.

"You make a cute couple..." Sukuna read one of the comments "How much did you smoke to say that?" Sukuna asked as he read the comments saying how good they would look together and how they would love to see them interact for real.

Sukuna had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at every comment he read ⸻ his eyes might have ended up in the back of his head. In the midst of the comments, however, Sukuna noticed one in particular from a well-known user.

@ yn.hrtz i think a collaboration wouldn't be bad :)

The corner of Sukuna's lips threatened to pop up, but he quickly looked away from the comment, hoping no one else would notice, and quickly continued his game, pretending nothing had happened.

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !