#but then it takes so long for us to actually *see* any of that up close and personal

[starryjake]

revenge | s.j

in which you get your revenge on jake after the time he overstimulated you with a vibrator.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: sub jake, use of sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, drooling and crying kinda, cumming multiple times, kinda bondage (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was so pretty. absolutely exhausted jake who just wanted to cuddle with you and go to sleep was too, too pretty.

you just had to have your fun with him.

besides, he should’ve seen it coming. he’d done the same thing to you last week.

you were tired from a long day of work and classes and jake thought it was the perfect time to absolutely torture you with a vibrator. he made you cum so many times, you’d lost count, but you were so oversensitive that it hurt.

that night, you couldn’t wait to get your revenge.

and then it was time: when jake was so sleepy and dazed, bound to go along with what you say until he would realize what was happening.

“baby,” he said softly as you started nipping his jawline, clearly trying to get his attention. “i’m too sleepy.”

“i know,” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his neck, “but i wanna have some fun.”

jake looked down at you, his sweet, sweet girl. he never wanted to deny you of the things you wanted, even when he was as tired as he was.

“i just don’t know if i can do anything, sweetheart,” he said. “you can hump me or ride my thigh if you want. just don’t be mad if i fall asleep.”

“no, jake,” you whined, trailing your hand down his bare torso. “you need to have some fun with me too.”

you grabbed his cheek and attached your lips to his before he could even realize you were doing it. he instantly melted into the kiss, sighing against your lips and bringing his hands up to your hair.

“so needy,” he mumbled against your mouth.

he couldn’t see it since his eyes were closed, but you rolled your eyes. you were needy, sure. needy to see him get what was coming for him.

testing, you dragged your hand down to cup his bulge, feeling if he was hard yet. you weren’t surprised to find that he was. it never took him very long, even when he insisted he was too tired.

you stroked your hand up and down his clothed erection for a minute, getting him worked up enough that he would actually want to cum and take back what he said about being too tired.

you knew he was at that point when you pulled away from him entirely and he pouted at you, his facial expression asking why you stopped.

saying nothing, you reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the fully charged bullet vibrator he’d used on you last week. jake’s face remained expressionless, not catching on to what was going on. he really was tired.

you set it on the bed and went back over to jake, pulling his pants down to his knees. he’d forgone underwear since he was just going to sleep, his cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. he was fully hard, his tip a light pink color and drooling a bit of pre cum.

for a moment there, distracted by the sight of his dick, you forgot all about your plan for the vibrator. you wrapped your hand around his shaft and started slowly jerking him off, watching his face contort with pleasure.

it was only when you felt him twitch in your grip that you remembered your mission.

you let go of him, much to his displeasure, picking the vibrator back up. he watched you turn it on, the humming sound of it suddenly filling your shared bedroom.

“what are you doing?” he whined, lolling his head to the side. “just make me cum and let me go to sleep.”

you scoffed. he was such a brat, it only made you want to use it on him even more.

“i will make you cum,” you assured. “just close your eyes.”

“i’ll fall asleep if i close ‘em,” he said.

“you won’t,” you assured him.

he sighed and closed his eyes, immediately becoming more relaxed. his shoulders slumped and his facial features softened.

you didn’t waste any time and brought the little pink vibrator right to the tip of his leaking cock.

jake jolted in shock, his eyes flying open.

“what the hell?” he almost yelled. “what are you doing?”

“having fun,” you answered.

he reached out to grab your wrist but you stopped him with a menacing glare.

“try to stop me and i’ll tie your hands up,” you warned.

“y/n, please,” jake huffed, staring down at you running the vibrator around his tip. “you’re not using your vibrator on me.”

“you did it to me first,” you reminded him. “you used it on me until i was shaking and begging you to stop. and i’ve been thinking about getting back at you everyday since.”

“i’m sorry!” jake cried out, tossing his head back in either frustration or pleasure, or both.

he couldn’t deny that it felt good. for such a small vibrator, the pressure was there. he could feel it intensely pulsating against his tip, pushing out more and more beads of clear precum. you’d only just begun and he was already so messy.

“i’m sure,” you mumbled, gathering some of the precum with your other hand.

jake bit his lip, feeling a warmth spread in his stomach and he knew he was already close. it hadn’t been very long but his sensations were heightened from his exhaustion.

“i’m close,” he told you.

you didn’t stop or slow down. in fact, you ran the vibrator down from his tip to his shaft and back up, his balls tightening from the unfamiliar sensation. his back arched in a way that was so pretty, your eyes widening from how affected he was by the vibrator.

“go ahead,” you said. “go ahead and cum for me.”

with that, his jaw fell slack and he groaned loudly as ropes of cum spurted out from his tip, which was a slightly darker pink than it’d been when you started.

“mmm, fuck,” he moaned, head tossed back and hips thrusting up slightly to ride out his high. “oh, yeah.”

a sheen of sweat covered his chest and his rosy cheeks. his chest rose and fell rapidly with little gasps of air. he came for longer than you imagined he would considering you’d only just started, but you assumed it was because he’d never had a vibrator used on him before.

you turned the vibrator off for a moment, taking in the state of jake before you. a puddle of his cloudy cum coated his stomach and his eyes were shut. his chest rose and fell less rapidly, telling you that he was finally calming down.

“jake?” you said after a minute.

he hummed, his eyes still closed. it was clear he was right on the brink of falling asleep.

to keep him from doing so, you turned the vibrator back on and held it against the underside of his cock below his tip, his most sensitive spot.

he jolted, eyes flying open like they had before.

“oh, fuck,” he moaned, grabbing your wrist to try and stop you again. “please. i can’t.”

“you can,” you assured him, holding the vibrator and his cock all in your one hand.

“please,” he cried. “it’s too much. i’m too sensitive, y/n.”

“you’re okay,” you responded, thinking about how sensitive you were when he did the same thing to you.

“oh my god,” he nearly sobbed. “‘m cumming.”

it was so, so quick. only a minute in and he was already shooting out more ropes of cum, landing on top of the puddle that was already there, creating an even bigger mess of himself.

he whimpered, entirely shoving your hand off of him to give himself a break.

“what’d i say?” you asked, demeanor darkening.

“you’re not tying me up,” he declared, like he was in charge.

“wanna bet?”

jake’s big brown eyes widened, watching as you reached into the drawer again to pull out the silk rope. you certainly weren’t afraid to use it on him, especially if he was going to be pushing your hands off.

“don’t,” he begged. “please.”

“then stop trying to push me off,” you said sternly.

“but it’s too much,” he whined.

he was already keeping a close eye on your hand gripping the vibrator, weary for when were going to bring it back to his cock again. it almost made you want to laugh.

“you can do it,” you said. “you can be good for me, yeah?”

he bit his lower lip, hanging his head.

you brought the vibrator back to his cock, turning it onto the next highest setting from before. his poor cock jake gasped, instinctively grabbing onto your wrist again despite what you’d just told him.

“jake,” you sighed, growing frustrated.

“i’m sorry!” he said, immediately retreating his hand.

you set the vibrator aside and grabbed the silk rope. you grabbed his hands and pushed them together, tying the rope around them tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.

jake had a little pout on his face like a child who’d just gotten scolded after getting in trouble. it filled your body with warmth, how cute he was.

“i just wanna make you feel good,” you reasoned, pressing the vibrator onto his slit.

he hissed, pushing his hips up. his abs clenched, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face from the intensity of the vibrator and from already cumming twice.

“i know, baby,” he said while exhaling shakily. “it’s just…a lot.”

“but i know you can do it,” you cooed, dragging the vibrator down a vein on his dick.

he clenched his jaw, the mixture of pain and pleasure so overwhelming that it was clouding his mind, slowly turning him dumb.

“i can’t,” he mumbled pathetically. “it feels so fucking good though.”

“i know, honey,” you cooed softly.

you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him prettier. his eyes were glazed over, his cheeks and ears a bright pink, and completely covered in his own cum. you wanted to ruin him, make a mess out of your tired boyfriend.

he tried to squeeze the bedsheets, but he was so weak. he couldn’t express his pleasure other than desperate moans.

he didn’t even warn you the next time he came. it just started coming out out his red, used tip, drooling out slowly in comparison to the sharp ropes that were spurting out before.

you were were pretty sure you saw a tear a slip down his face and were certain that he was drooling. he moaned shamelessly, so out of it that he felt like he was dreaming. he’d never felt so fucked out in his life.

you kept the vibrator pressed against him while he came and didn’t remove it this time to let him calm down.

“oh my god,” he slurred. “baby, pl—oh fuck. i’m cumming again.”

less than 30 seconds than cumming before and he was already cumming again, which you didn’t even know was possible.

his load was smaller, but his reaction was bigger. he threw his head back, exposing his pretty neck. his entire body tensed and the prettiest, most desperate moans and whimpers came tumbling out past his lips, swollen from biting and drooling.

“fuck, i can’t stop,” he moaned.

you watched him, feeling the wetness pool in your panties from how beautiful of a sight it was.

the veins in his body throbbed, his muscles clenched, and he just a beautiful mess. his cock was drenched in his own cum, the vibrator slipping against him.

you caressed his leg, removing the vibrator from his spent cock. he let out a groan of relief from you finally pulling it away, of giving him a moment to breathe.

his eyes were closed, his entire body limp. you lifted his hands in order to untie the silk rope, setting his hands free.

you sat up on your knees, caressing his face until he opened his eyes again, looking up at you.

“you okay?” you asked, your thumb brushing his cheek.

“mhm,” he mumbled, even more tired than he was before. “that was fucking…insane.”

“was it too much?” you wondered, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to start cleaning him up.

“yeah,” he said, “in the best way possible.”

you chuckled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.

“go to sleep, okay?” you said.

“but can we cuddle?” he asked sweetly.

“yes, we can cuddle,” you responded.

“and can i be little spoon?” he asked.

“yes, jake.”

-

screaming. shoutout to the anon who requested this, i loved the idea so much! sub jake just….don’t get me started actually!

[girlgenius1111]

Ingrid Engen, “oh that doesn’t feel quite right”, at Home

---

Ingrid was, among many things, easy to celebrate. She was about as close to perfect as a human could get. Or, at least, you thought so. You’d pestered her about what she wanted to do for her birthday for weeks in advance, and though she kept saying she was fine with anything as long as she was with you, you were very determined to plan a day full of things she loved. 

First, you both slept in, waking up just before noon still entangled with each other from the night before. Then, you’d gone for coffee and lunch at her favorite place in the city. She’d called her parents and her siblings after that, chatting for a while and opening the gifts they’d sent ahead. You’d put on her favorite movie once she was off the phone, curling up against her on the sofa as she watched, mumbling some of the words from memory under her breath. 

Next up was cooking dinner together, again her favorite meal on the menu. The gifts you’d gotten her were set on the bed, a small cake hidden in the back of the fridge so you could sing to her. Everything had gone perfectly according to plan. 

And then, as you were cutting the vegetables for dinner at the counter, the knife slipped. 

“Oh!” You gasped, dropping the knife down with a clatter. 

“Love?” Ingrid asked, turning away from the stove, peering at your back. You’d gone completely still. 

“That… that doesn’t feel right.” You mumbled, clutching your finger tightly in your other hand. 

“What doesn’t–?” Ingrid cut herself off as you turned around, blood already staining your shirt, dripping down onto the ground underneath you. “Oh my god!” 

“Ow,” you stated, voice completely devoid of any feeling or inflection. Ingrid rushed towards you, her hand gripping your shoulder in an attempt to steady you. Your girlfriend knew how you were with blood. 

You weren’t really thinking about the blood, though, because you knew whatever the state of your finger was… it wasn’t good. 

The knife had slipped. It had stung. You’d dropped the knife, and without really looking at your finger, you’d gripped it in your other hand tightly. It was bleeding heavily, but something in you refused to unwrap your hand from around your finger, refused to look at the damage. 

“Let me see.” Ingrid instructed, her brows knitted together in concern. 

Still, your hand remained wrapped around your injured finger. Partially because you knew it would hurt like hell the minute you took pressure off it, and also because you weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be missing part of your fingertip. 

“Ingrid,” You exhaled, shaking your head and looking at your girlfriend with fear written across your face. 

“It’s going to be okay love, just let me see.” 

With a bit more gentle coaxing, you shut your eyes tightly and let go of your finger. Ingrid bit her lip to stop a gasp from escaping, more than a little horrified by the injury. You had a massive gash cutting into the top of your index finger, and there was blood pouring from the wound. Ingrid was surprised that the tip of your finger was still attached, and she knew it needed medical attention immediately. Your eyes were still shut, though there were tears starting to make their way down your face. 

Ingrid grabbed a clean towel from the drawer, uncaring that she got blood on the white cabinets, and wrapped your hand up tightly in it. 

“Is it bad?” You asked. 

Ingrid hesitated, but knew there was no use lying. “It’s not great, but we’ll go to the hospital and they’ll stitch you right up.” 

You whimpered pathetically at the thought of stitches, but even though you hadn’t actually seen the injury, you knew it needed them. Opening your eyes, you found Ingrid looking right at you, a reassuring look on her face. Without another word, you allowed Ingrid to guide you out of the apartment, into the elevator and down to the car. 

Maybe you were going into shock or something, because all you could think was that you’d probably let Ingrid take you anywhere. Even to the hospital, where they’d thread a needle through your skin and put you back together. Anywhere. 

—

You could feel Ingrid’s eyes on you as she pulled to a stop at a red light, yet you didn’t turn towards her. Your finger still throbbed with pain, the medication they’d given you at the hospital not having kicked in yet. Your hand was wrapped up in an enormous amount of gauze and bandages, which felt a bit overkill. 

Thought after thought was rushing through your brain, all of them centered around trying to salvage Ingrid’s birthday, which you were absolutely sure you’d completely ruined. Still, it must have looked like you were in pain, because Ingrid was still looking at you worriedly. 

“What are you thinking, min kjære?” She wondered, her hand reaching over to rest on your knee. 

Turning towards her, you blinked hard at the tears that were rapidly accumulating in your eyes. “Nothing! If you want, we can go out to dinner. Or I could go get your favorite from–”

“Are you crying?” Ingrid interrupted, brow furrowing with worry even as she fixed her attention back on the road in front of her. “Does it hurt?”

Her voice was dripping with sympathy, and you resisted the urge to sigh. 

“No, I’m fine.” You insisted. “For dinner–”

“Love, I don’t care about dinner. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t! Don’t worry about me. It’s your birthday and I’ve already ruined it, I don’t want to make it worse, so please just tell me where you want to go to dinner.” Your voice was trembling, your need to make up for messing up such a special day overwhelming you. 

“You haven’t ruined anything!” Ingrid exclaimed, pulling the car over to the side of the road and turning to look at you sadly. “Love, you didn’t ruin my birthday. You didn’t almost cut your finger off on purpose.” 

You huffed out a laugh that turned into some kind of sob, and Ingrid didn’t hesitate to unbuckle her seatbelt and lean over the center console to pull you into a hug. 

“You have not ruined anything, baby. Truly. We can do dinner another night and it will be just as special. I just want you to be okay.” Ingrid murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. 

“I’m okay,” you sniffled into her neck, quite aware how ironic and completely unbelievable you sounded. 

The Norwegian pulled away, placing both her hands on your cheeks. Her thumbs swept away a few tears, before she leaned in and gently kissed you. “You’re in pain and that was an awful, terrifying experience and I can tell you just want to go home to bed. So let’s do that, hmm?” 

You nodded begrudgingly, well aware that now Ingrid knew how upset you were, there was no way on earth or in heaven that she would allow you to go anywhere but home to bed. And you couldn’t lie, that was truly all you wanted. 

Ingrid kissed you once more, before putting the car back in drive and pulling onto the road again. Her hand remained intertwined with your uninjured one, her thumb tracing circles over the back of it.

“You know,” you began after a few minutes. “I still have a working hand. And working fingers.” 

Ingrid laughed, the sound melodic, bringing butterflies to your stomach no matter how many times you heard it. “We can put your good hand to work tomorrow, if you’re feeling better.” 

You sank back into the passenger seat with a grin, the promise of tomorrow’s activities improving your mood greatly. Or maybe, that was just Ingrid improving your mood. Even when you felt like you were at your worst, she was always able to make you feel like things weren’t so bad. Mostly because if you were with her, things couldn’t be bad. This situation wasn’t any different. 

---

[mintmatcha]

I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.

Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.

"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"

You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.

"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "

Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.

"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."

Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.

"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.

"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."

"I know it is."

"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"

"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.

You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.

"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."

Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."

"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."

-

They are late.

Significantly.

It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.

"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.

"He's still not calling you back?"

"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."

It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.

"You let him treat you like this?"

"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."

[meansevika]

okay so very long thinkpiece about meljay and jayce' treatment of mel / the writers treatment of mel and how i think that all things considered she hasnt really won as much as we think she did

the thing about this that makes me so mad or rather sad (both, actually) is that we learn in season 1 how mel was brought up, that she didn't get to be soft and kind, that her surroundings were hard and rough just like her mother was, that love isn't a thing she knows like that especially not in relation to vulnerability. now if you think about media in general there is a pattern we know. the black woman is always the strong woman, the independent woman, the woman who doesnt get to be vulnerable bc of the first two points. so here comes this man she's trying to use not just for her own endeavors but for the good of piltover, clearly having a different mindset than her mother, and he cracks her open just like that. he's vulnerable with her and he lets her be vulnerable with him and it allows this woman this kind of vulnerability that she was never allowed to feel. she feels and she loves and there is someone who holds her and looks out for her when things go bad. he is his first thought after the bombing and hes so loving and endearing unlike her mother who is concerned, of course, but straight back to business too. and oh what a lovely thing that was to watch as a black woman who to this day still doesn't get to see this as often as we really should

so mel gets to experience something she hasnt before and you can tell it means something to her because when she gets back in act 3 the first reaction to him is an excited, hopeful one.

this is the man she cares deeply for and it is also the man who shes comforted before many times. something she needs in those very confusing times too. something she might be looking out for. something she might hope to get herself. some comforting after what shes been through for months. someone to share what is going on with her and how confusing it is to find out all those lies and secrets about herself.

until she notices how changed he is, how different he looks, so instantly she is worried. of course! who wouldnt be! she very likely didnt even know he was missing since its the first time we see her back in the city so she must've assumed he has been here and well for the whole time being (does she even know how long its been?) but it isnt fine as we know. she puts herself second! immediately! (and rewatching that scene now it actually makes me mad how she does that. and how anyone can question any of her feelings for him when shes immediately all jayce. or how in general people think shes only interested in her own goals) she asks this man who has shown her to be vulnerable around him and it BEING FINE, what happened, shes opening herself up to him, again, over and over, and he not only tells her it doesnt matter (what happened to him) but TURNS HIS BACK ON HER. he is literally shutting her off. he is saying with his body she does not get to do that. and for someone who has grown up like this, with a mother cutting off any kind of displays of weakness, this must be a familiar feeling, something that goes off like a bell

but she still tries! she still tries! she sees something is wrong but she tries to get comfort anyway, because this is jayce, right, this is the man she cares for deeply, the man who has opened this door for her and the door she's let herself through, the man who has always had compassion for her. of course she tries again. why wouldn't she? so she starts that something has happened to her but he doesn't even let her tell him what happened (actually it makes me so mad seeing this again and how crazy hostile he is towards her, its like im looking at the mel hating part of arcanetwt and him repeating beat for beat what theyve been saying for years) he doesnt give her room to speak, just takes it for himself, prioritizing himself and his own feelings. and, yes, figuring out the bombing thing and wanting to talk about it is valid and i think in general this could've been a great angsty way to deal with this topic IF they would've had the opportunity to talk this out properly but what happens instead is that the man that makes mel feel safe starts INTERROGATING her like she is a criminal that should be held for trial FOR SAVING HIM something she doesnt even undestand herself. and suddenly she is in a whole different position and i think by now she knows that this kind of compassion and understanding and room for vulnerability isn't part of their conversation anymore

she loses her composure and that of course isnt a first because she has started to be less put together around him, allowing her more room to "sway" but this kind of destruction is a different one because she feels at trial, feels cornered, feels like she has to explain herself but - and thats what is important - isnt heard. and i think that is something she knows very well, something shes grown up with, trying to explain herself and not being heard.

all of that happens while he is, mind you, still holding onto that hammer. something she surely notices too. the man who's usually quick to let down his defences around her, who isnt councilor talis or mister talis but just jayce around her, is holding onto that hammer like shes a threat. so he tells her he thinks shes lying and she asks him why he would think she'd do that, obviously, because her understanding of their relationship and their trust is a different one than his or at least this jayce that has come back from the arcane, because clearly this kind of understanding comes from somewhere and it comes from the times they've spent together alone throughout season 1 and a little in the beginning of season 2.

he throws at her that shes been using him, something that surprises her, because clearly she doesnt know what has happened, but she tries to explain anyway, because she doesnt know what has happened at least not in full (as you can tell by her reaction to viktor appearing, sensing the hostile mood between both, but also the way she reacts when viktor mentions the noxians intentions), and you can see that these thoughts of his are a result of months in the arcane alone with them and imagining conversations over conversations (although for me its still hard to understand how he grew that hostile towards her this quickly as if she were responsible for everything that happened but those are thoughts for a different post). he crashes out during that conversation, his face is warped with hatred and that is. all. for. her. to. see. and then BOOM goes the hammer off. mid conversation. a conversation that should feel safe with a man she should feel safe with but none of that is there. there is no space for her. (and yes i know hes aiming at viktors puppet but that isnt somethng mel is aware in that moment)

it all leads up to a fight and eventually they walk together and he apologizes, although very distantly and without much explanation, and despite it all, despite having good reasons to shut off and not share what she's feeling, she does. she talks to him about what is on her mind and they have a short, bittersweet exchange but it's just nowhere to what they've established in the first season. as a shipper of course that is super frustrating, but as a mel fan it's just sad to see that the person she felt safe enough to seek comfort in is just so closed off. but not only that, it's obvious they're parting ways and it's very obvious this is coming from his side and i think that is also why she so wilingly accepts it. she doesn't fight much back throughout their whole fight earlier either, she tries to explain herself, but doesnt demand that room for herself even though in this relationship she should be able to take just as much room for herself and her feelings as he does, but she doesn't. she just lets it happen and i understand it bc you have this man you trust and probably love and his first reaction to you is hostile when hostile has never been a response to her. he made a complete u-turn and of course that's off putting, maybe even scary, of course it shuts her down, makes someone who's so good with words and fighting just try to cause as little damage as possible because that is how she's grown up, isn't it?

and that is why i am sad about this. she learned that love doesnt have to look like her mothers and that being vulnerable isnt a weakness and its his doing but here she is met by this kind of hostility she only knows from noxus and it hurts even more that it COMES FROM HIM and over something as SAVING HIS LIFE when its clearly was an act out of love and not investment bc if i'd would've been just that than she would've saved viktor as well? but it wasnt about that. it was her subconscious making a decision and it was something her mother would describe as an act of weakness (theres a reason she gets renni to attack him bc she sees how fond mel of him is maybe even because shes been fond of a man herself once and she knows what itll do) and i think the worst part about it is that she doesnt ever get to truly articulate this or anything else and now that jayce is gone (dead? in a stone? who knows?) she won't get to ever probably. she won't get to say what she thinks and explain herself truly and she won't have anyone to confide in, to be comforted by or comfort. elora is dead, kino wasn't real and the real one is actually dead too, jayce is well whatever he is, and her mother died in her arms. yes, mel is a mage and that is fucking awesome and i was so happy to see her go off and get so many spotlights in battle, but shes also so fucking tragic actually. because here she is with a fuck ton of weight on her shoulders, the noxian army looking up to her, the whole name, not knowing who her father is or what any of her powers mean, the whole black rose thing, everything unresolved between her and jayce, the death of the people she loves, and shes all alone with it. shes all alone with it and she gets no one. man im just fucking sad that this woman got a glimpse of what it could be like to be loved and have someone to "come home to" just for her to have literally no one left like why do you hate black women so much why cant they get a fucking good ending and why cant they be fucking loved even when things get hard

also im lowkey mad that jayce got to find comfort in her lap so many times and not once did she get that in return, not even a squeeze of her shoulder, but dont let me get started on that....

[hai7ani]

Haitani Rindou, Me and My Girlfriend Tokyo Revengers' Ending Special

Your birthday is cold. The wind is big and your jacket is not doing its job good enough. Orangey leaves fall from the trees and they land on your heads. Sweet potatoes have never tasted so sweet before, but he thinks your smile is sweeter.

Tokyo has been getting pretty cold these days, but Rindou is always warm.

"It's soooo cold." You hide your face into his much thicker jacket and mewl like a sweet little kitten seeking for warmth. He reels your body in closer to wrap his arms around your figure, tight. "Told'cha to wear the other jacket." He sways you both around lightly. Your paper bag from Chrome Hearts is heavy and he grabs it off your fingers.

"But I wanted to wear this one for today. You got it for me." You sneak a peek from his chest to look at his face. He rolls his eyes in faux annoyance as you smile cheekily.

Draken is not happy with what he's seeing.

"What the hell? Did this guy just skip the gang meeting to date? That's some lame shit." He clicks his tongue, irritated. A thick vein bulges from his forehead and he starts stomping towards you both, who're standing under a tree all cuddled up together and so, so cozy 一 it's such an eye-sore.

Emma stops him before he can get any closer. "Oh, leave them alone, would you? Let them date in peace. Haitani Ran attended the meeting anyway!" She scolds, hands on her hips. Senju drags along Hinata with sparkly eyes and a wide-open mouth. "Ehhh? She's so pretty! They look so good together."

"Hah? Ya tellin' me four eyes' got a girlfriend?!" Hakkai's strikingly blue eyes almost falls out of his sockets as he witness the scene before him: you're stepping on your tippy toes to place a smooch on Rindou's cheek sweetly, and he's actually smiling like a damn fool. Sanzu only snarls 一 a common reaction for a guy who's just broken up with his girlfriend, while Hanma is busy smirking as he lights up a cigarette. "He's got some balls showing up here all lovey-dovey." ...He'd just broken up with his girlfriend, too.

Mitsuya snickers, "they've been together for a very long time already, I'm surprised you lot just found out about this," while Souya and Nahoya seem normal about it. "Do you guys not follow his SoundCloud? He makes a lot of songs for her. He shared his link with us willingly, too."

Chifuyu pitches in. "Last week they visited the pet shop to get some cat supplies, and he pretended not to know me with his nose up high, but he made me give him a staff discount while she was busy playing with Peke J. Evil person, I say." Baji smacks the back of his head, "that's just you, dude. He said hi to me and Kazutora." The said man raises his hand as a confirmation.

Inui's face does not change. "Draken wasn't around so he doesn't know, but they both came by D&D the other day to make me check on his car. We don't fix cars, bruh, but he still left with his engine problem solved. No idea how, 'cause I didn't do shit. Goofy guy."

Kokonoi sighs. "It's been ages since they've been doing this, guys. Has no one ever realised the freaking hickeys on his neck? He's fuckin' cocky 'bout 'em too."

But as always, Draken is quick to get pissed off even with reason. He scoffs, "So what? We meet up just once a week to talk about the gang. Is it so hard to show up for just two hours every Sunday?"

...Mikey is always faster. He's already looming over you both (in his head he is) while the others are still busy busting their heads over you two.

"You." His voice is flat and his eyes are squinted, very annoyed. He looks like a grumpy child pissed that he didn't get a souvenir from his classmate. It doesn't help that he is much shorter than your boyfriend as well.

"What the hell are you doing here? If you wanna skip a meeting at least don't show up at our venue to show off. Are you asking for a beating?"

You poke your head out from his jacket just enough to take a quick look at Mikey who is standing behind you both, arms crossed while tapping his feet on the ground. Rindou turns his head and eyes the growing crowd who're slowly circling around you both.

Shion and Izana shrug simultaneously with their hands in the air when Rindou glares at them. 'We didn't say shit,' but his best friend mouths to him anyway, 'dumbass'. And for once, Kakucho is laughing.

From the corner of his eyes he can see Ran slowly approach you both, left behind by the crowd while sucking on a popsicle at this weather like the maniac he is. He quickly stands properly to fix on your clothing gently without letting you go from the confines of his jacket 一 to keep you warm like the loving boyfriend he is or to keep your face hidden like the petty boyfriend he is, you're not too sure.

He faces the crowd with you hiding behind his back, eyes wide as you listen.

"It's my girl's birthday today." He simply mutters, loud enough for the crowd to hear. No attitude, no eye roll 一 just five words, plain and simple.

"Huh?" The steam rising off of Mikey's head vanishes like a fire being put off by water, and Draken's expression significantly drops. He immediately coughs into his fist and bows a little when he sees you looking at him, pretty eyes folded into thin crescents as you pat on your boyfriend's back a little, whispering into his ear to ease up.

"What? I can't take you out to shop on your birthday now?" He says it to you with the expression of a sad little mistreated puppy and you try your best to shut him up while laughing. "Yes, yes you can. Now quiet, be nice to them." You say between giggles.

"Sorry. Happy birthday." Mikey immediately apologises, dazed. You snicker against Rindou's back and try your hardest to nod as a courtesy with your face half-hidden.

He still has something to say, though 一 like the big boy who doesn't like being misunderstood that he is 一 despite your best efforts on making him play nice and not be rude to his friends.

"I didn't come all the way here to show off, baka. We're waiting for this guy to celebrate together." He explains, one finger pointing to his nonchalant brother, as you both meet with Ran under the lamppost.

"And, dating isn't lame. Still being single is." His gaze switches to Emma who is playing with the buttons of her cardigan silently behind Draken, with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Asshole-"

"Bye. Don't follow us." He mocks the way Draken's mouth moves with a grin and you hit his arm while lightly bowing to the others as a goodbye.

"She looks so familiar." Takemichi whispers as he watch the three of you take off, and Hinata hums for him to continue. "I feel like I've seen her before."

Mikey looks at him with a soft smile on his face, as he takes a glance back at the rest who are still discussing about you two. They're all loud and boisterous, but they're having fun, and they're alive.

And suddenly the wires connect in his head.

Yeah, that's right. In the timeline before this, the timeline before that, and in all the timelines he's met with the Haitani Brothers, he's seen you too. You and Rindou side by side, and you're always together with Ran. You and him were never together before this because of your disapproval on their dangerous gang activities, but you are together now, in this timeline, where Ran and Rindou aren't just juvie kids and they're no longer cold-blooded murderers.

Mikey knows that too.

"Finally a happy timeline, right, Takemicchi?"

i'm extremely late to this but happy 2 years since tr ended and also not much tags cus idk what this is honestly. just read for fun LOL :p

[wonderjanga]

Here's a stupid dumb crack idea you can't really die in Fawcett City like you can get hurt cartooningly but you can't die like getting hit in the head when it acts of like a mild inconvenience and gives you a headache and a scar but you won't die from it

If you leave faucet for a long time then you can die but everyone there is Immortal and kind of unaging unless you want to age

Captain marvel forgot to tell the Justice League this while fighting a villain who proceeded the flash when acts in the head

People in Fawcett don’t die. That was something the Justice League hadn’t known when Marvel had called them for help to fight some villain. Everything was going fine and dandy at first. They were winning, obviously, but then something just had to happen. A piece of the rubble somehow, you couldn’t ask any of them, fell on the fastest man alive who wasn’t able to dodge for whatever reason?Everyone, besides Marvel and the villain, who were still fighting by the way, went quiet as a mouse.

Supes: *looks horrified* “Oh my Rao! Flash!?” *flies over and lifts the rubble up*

Flash: *wobbly stands up, springing up and down like an accordion* (accordion squash)

Marvel and the villain didn’t even look their way, meanwhile, everyone is trying to get Flash to stop being a human accordion.

Supes: “Keep him still!”

GL: “I’m trying!” *using his ring to try and hold Wally still*

Batman: “Try harder.” *is trying to administer a sedative*

After that whole fiasco…

Marvel: “Hey, guys, I apprehended the villain. Where were you- why is Flash passed out on the floor.”

After they explained, seeing all their traumatized and scarred expressions, Marvel finally explained that in Fawcett, people couldn’t die. Not unless they wanted to anyways. When most Fawcitizens got hurt, they bounced back very similarly to Tom and Jerry. A wonderful demonstration of this conveniently happened when someone nearby just happened to run off a roof, hovered in the air for a solid fifteen seconds before looking down and then proceeding to fall. They then dug themselves out of the human shaped hole they left, dusted themselves off and walked off like nothing happened.

Safe to say, none of them wanted to come back to Fawcett after this. Though unfortunately, there are still times they have to visit.

Goon: *evil laughs and runs up to Batman and shoves a couple sticks of TNT into his hands*

Batman: *can’t safely throw it anywhere because of the civilians around so it blows up*

Goon: *pointing and laughing*

Batman: *standing there, somehow still alive and covered and soot. He blinks rapidly before grabbing his shark repellent and emptying the entire can on the goon’s face, eyes, and mouth*

As for why Bruce was so pressed to the point where he emptied an entire canister of shark repellent on the man? He could feel the soot everywhere. It somehow got under his mask so he feels it on every inch of skin near the upper part of his torso.

Don’t worry though, this chicanery happens to everyone else too. Like, every single Lantern that has entered Fawcett has taken a comically large hammer to head and has gotten a large bump as a result.

Marvel: *walking by when he does a double take seeing John* “Oh my Gods, what happened-”

GL(John Stewart): “I DON’T want to talk about it.”

Then there was the time Hawkgirl was chasing after a villain one time and they happened to get into Fawcett. She actually slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel. Then, the villain she was chasing stepped on a rake and got a good smack to the face.

Marvel: “Hawkgirl! What’re you doing here?” *flies down, happy to see his friend*

Hawkgirl: *gestures to the villain with a long red line down their face from the rake’s pole* “I was chasing them.”

Marvel: “Cool, cool, cool, uh… what happened to his face?”

Hawkgirl: “He stepped on a rake.”

*silence*

Hawkgirl: “Why do your people just have bananas and rakes laying around?”

Marvel: “What…?”

In conclusion, nobody besides the Fawcett heroes like being in Fawcett.

[autumnsvixen]

Damaged - part 1

next

Azriel x f! reader

When the high lord sent Cassian to Ironcrest to recruit females to train, he was never expecting Cassian to bring something, or someone, back.

Word Count: 2093 Warnings: misogyny, violence, blood, use of knives, physical abuse, this is taking place in an Illyrian war camp so read with caution. I'm serious, it gets pretty dark and violent.

A/N: this is part one of a slow-burn Az fic I have in the works. I know you don’t see much of Az here, but I promise it is coming. And it will be well worth the angst wait.

masterlist || request guidelines

You stood by the training mat, eyes fixed as you were entranced by the male in the ring. His moves were graceful as he handled his sword with a precision you’d only seen in the birds that dive to the nearby lake as they hunt their aquatic prey. He swung towards invisible enemies, cutting them down with ease. As you watched him, you could only wish you could one day carry yourself with the same easy danger as he did. The males in the camp barely spared him a glance, and those who did had looks of disgust and anger on their faces.

Your trance was broken by the harsh sound of your brother’s voice, “Y/N, stop watching that bastard play pretend and get back inside. Shouldn’t you be washing my training leathers?”

Your shoulders stiffened as you moved your eyes from the training ring to the snow-covered ground below you. You mustered out a small, “apologies, I was meant to be fetching water for the wash. I just got distracted.”

He inched closer to you, the smell of sweat and grime pulling a gag from your throat that you swallowed down. His tone was quiet but harsh, “if I ever catch you looking at that brute again, I will show you what a real male can do with a sword.”

Your breath hitched, but you nodded obediently, running off to fetch water from the well on the outskirts of camp.

As you were pulling the bucket back up towards you, you were once again frightened by the sound of a male voice behind you, “I know you were watching me earlier.”

Your heart quickened as you turned, the bucket shaking in your hands, “I didn’t mean to offend you, sir, I apologize.”

The male with the long dark hair smiled softly at you, “no need to apologize. I was actually going to ask if you wanted to train with me tomorrow. You’re the only one here who seems like a worthy mentee.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him fully, taking in the red glow of his siphons and the rich hazel of his eyes. “I would love that, but I am far too busy with my chores and my brother wouldn’t like it if I were to forego them to train with you.”

He stepped closer to you, a kind softness in his eyes, “If it’s your brother you are worried about, I can ensure you I will protect you from any backlash you might face.”

If only he knew what kind of backlash your brother had been known to give out. You shook your head, “I know that you and your high lord have imposed your laws about female training, but it is still strictly… discouraged in this camp.”

He looked angry at your words, an expression which faded into pity as he took in your trembling form. “If your brother has a problem with you training under his general, I will gladly speak with him. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“All due respect, general, you won’t be the one facing the brunt of his anger.”

He rolled his shoulders back, “then let me teach you how to defend yourself against him. He won’t hurt you while I am here.”

You hesitate, knowing you truly wanted nothing more than to learn how to fight, how to protect yourself against the males who had threatened you throughout your existence. He sees this and continues, “if you decide you want to take me up on my offer, meet me in the training ring 2 hours before dawn. That way, your brother won’t even know you’re gone, and you will still be able to complete your chores.”

With a respectful dip of your head, you breeze past the war general with the bucket still in your hands.

You don’t meet him in the ring the next day, or the following day. Despite the longing you felt to train, you couldn’t overcome the fear of your brother’s anger. It was in the early morning of the third day, as you stood by the dish basin in your family home and watched the war general train through the window, that you decided you would join him. You had only meant to be distracted for a moment, allowing yourself a glimpse of his routine, but you had been entranced once again. Your brother had caught you staring, anger coating his eyes.

With a hot hand, he grabbed your arm and spun you around, the dish falling from your hand and into the tub. His other hand met your throat, squeezing tightly. “What did I say about watching him train, little sister?”

Your eyes were wide with fear as you struggled to breathe, body frozen in terror. Your brother brought the hand not on your throat to your hip, sliding under your shirt so you could feel the cold metal of a blade against your skin.

You tried to speak, to apologize, but the grasp on your neck was too tight to allow any noise to leave your mouth. The sharp sting on your hip brought tears to your eyes as he carved a long line across your stomach. It wasn’t deep enough to seriously wound you, but you knew there would most likely be a scar.

He smiled wickedly down at you, bringing the bloodied knife to your cheek. He swiped it across your skin before leaning close to your ear, hot disgusting breath hitting your skin. “Now be a good little sister and clean yourself up. Then get back to work.”

The grip on your neck disappeared and you gasped for breath, holding onto the edge of the basin behind you for stability. As you regained your composure enough to grab a nearby rag, you made your decision. No matter what, your villainous brother would find a way to hurt you. The only thing you could do for yourself was learn to fight back.

You had hoped that Cassian would be pleased to see you in the early hours of the morning the next day, but you were instead met with a look of concern.

“What happened to your face?”

You shrugged off his question, “you told me you could teach me how to defend myself, right?”

His mouth morphed into a grimace as he took in your week appearance, the inflamed pink mark across your cheek. After a few moments, he nodded, “I hope you’re ready to work.”

You found that, despite the bruises and soreness that had made their home on your body, you enjoyed Cassian’s training. He pushed you enough to help you grow, but not so far that you would regress into the fear that had consumed your entire body throughout your life. He respected your boundaries, and never asked you to explain when you would show up to train with new cuts along your face or arms.

But any fool could tell he was furious about them. You had made it clear you wouldn’t talk about them and that you didn’t want him interfering, and he was too scared that you would stop coming if he did. Out of anger, or because you would be left in a state so poor you’d be unable to train, you both weren’t sure.

One day, the two of you had gotten distracted, and training had lasted just a bit longer than it normally would. As you were heading off the training mat, you caught a glimpse of your brother’s watchful eyes through the window of your cabin. They held an icy fury, and you knew what was to come as soon as you got home. You thought to ask Cassian to accompany you, but knew that if you didn’t face your brother now, it would only be worse later.

To your surprise, your brother said nothing as you carefully entered the house. You watched him warily, as he didn’t even spare a glance in your direction. You quickly changed into your household clothes before starting quietly on your chores, jumping at the sound of the front door slamming shut as your brother left for the day.

The entire day, you were on edge. Chores had taken you less time than normal due to your anxiety quickening your hands. You were on your way to the market to trade the coins your brother earned as a blacksmith for meats and new gloves for him, as he had requested, when you were stopped by three looming figures.

You recognized them as your brothers friends, males who had come around to your home to get drunk with your brother and make gross, degrading comments towards you as you served them. Then, their eyes had been filled with lust and entitlement. Now, they were filled only with rage.

“Your brother said you’ve been training with that bastard general.” One of the males said.

Another spoke, “weak females like you don’t get to train.” He reached out to grab your shoulder, pushing you to the cold, hard ground.

“If you think you’re strong enough to fight like us males, why don’t we test out your skills?” The third one spoke as fear washed over your body. You pushed yourself up to your hands so you were sitting, looking up at them.

The second male’s foot made contact with your side as he kicked you harshly, sending you back to the ground. Though you had been training with Cassian, he had only been helping you build muscle and endurance, not to fight. Not yet.

Another of the males swung his legs on either side of your waist, pinning you underneath him. His hands wrapped around your throat, cutting your oxygen supply off. You struggled underneath him, trying to bring your knees up to harm him, but another of the males stomped on your ankle before you could.

A splintering pain traveled up your leg at the impact, bones cracking underneath his foot. You tried to cry out in pain, but no noise would come out.

The lack of oxygen was causing your vision to go blurry, hands scratching at the male’s to loosen the grip around your throat. He obliged, but you quickly realized it wasn’t from your pleading. His friend passed him a dagger, which he swiftly brought to your neck.

“C’mon little girl, didn’t your bastard teach you anything?” His voice was filled with disgust and anger, his breath reeking of ale. Your heartbeat was a swift and constant thud in your chest, echoing the fear you felt.

A scream left your lips as he plunged the dagger into your chest, just under your collarbone. You could nearly feel the blade scrape the bone as it entered you. You tried to push him off, but the other males placed their feet on your arms, keeping you locked into place. The male on top of you took his free hand to cover your mouth. “Hush, good girls don’t scream.”

Tears poured from your eyes as he removed the bloodied dagger from your chest before swiftly bringing it back down again, this time into your side. You screamed against his hand, the pain overwhelming you.

He continued his ministrations, plunging the blade into your middle, avoiding your heart and lungs narrowly, but not caring about anything else. You lost track of the pain, mind and body going numb as you let the frozen fear take over you.

At some point, it stopped. You would later vaguely recall a flash of red and the sound of men in pain, but in the moment you could barely remember your own name.

A male kneeled over you, concern in his hazel eyes and long hair brushing against your face. You groaned out of instinct, not pain, when he picked you up, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder as he took off.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me,” he said harshly to you over the roaring of the wind in your ears. You vaguely recognized that you were flying, a feeling so instinctual yet so unfamiliar to you, despite the large wings on your back.

The next things you remember happened in flashes. A dark male with bright, violet eyes taking hold of your hand, a castle surrounded by balconies and arches, a soft bed and warm hands spreading magic throughout your body, your bones clicking back into place, and a dark figure who seemed to be more shadow than fae.

It was him you thought of as the same darkness that surrounded him filled your vision and you were overtaken by a dreamless sleep.

[pumpkinnning]

this really does not feel like the kind of statement to throw out there without any sense of context or place. there's definitely sth to be said about how women are taught to live in a constant state of preyhood by overwhelming societal messaging - and yeah it's also people's responsibility to see past that but "self victimization" feels kind of umm. a shitty way to describe it. are you gonna tell minorities who have internalized shitty cliches about themselves they're self victimizing ?

also yeah there are A LOT of places on earth where these kinds of fears are at least a little warranted. personally i grew up in a place where i was sexually harassed very regularly by grown men in the street starting age 10. and not just the whistling and creepy petnames, im talking graphic descriptions. a random guy once told me he was going to put out his cigarette in my eye bc i didn't smile back. when i started going on there was a notorious rapist operating in the same area as the popular clubs. one of my friends got her life completely ruined by a stalker and nobody did anything when he would just hang out in front of her door with a baseball bat for hours every other day. etc etc i could go on for a long time. and yeah sure i didn't actually get physically harmed but that kind of psychological violence takes a toll. and i tried not to let it make me too afraid i still pushed myself to go out and walk in the woods at night and go out alone. but that didn't mean i then turned around and called my friends weak and crazy for being scared. i am older now less vulnerable and i moved to another country and it barely happens anymore and i feel so much freer and safer and that still does not mean im gonna go call women who do experience this shit crazy online

again. absolutely we have to look at the way female victimhood is constructed in a way that plays into racism, classism, transphobia, etc. this kind of post however, which i have been seeing more and more of, does not sound like that. it sounds like misogyny using woke terms, and victim blaming, and "haha if it hasn't happened to me it can't be true and everyone else must be making it up" and "why don't [marginalized group] simply stop whining about their oppression and suck it up and pretend its not happening and everything will be fine. if you're impacted by it it's actually your own fault" and just very very privileged.

i'm sorry the self-victimization of some women i see online is crazyyyyy, they're saying shit like "yeah being a woman is so crazy, if you go on a date you have to text his full name and picture to your friend, and also where you're meeting, and share your location throughout the date, and check in hourly" girl the only safety measure you need is meeting in a populated place. that man is NOT going to kidnap you from Popular Cafe on Well-Frequented Street in broad daylight at 2pm. i promise. do you go forest hiking as a first date or what the fuck.

[vaya-is-dead]

Welcome to hour one of my delusional city

SO ABOUT JINX.... we have plenty to discuss. :))

*act three arcane spoilers under the cut don't read if you haven't watched it especially the last episode!!*

I have a theory.

Now many of you will point at me and call me delusional but I'm sorry. I think I might be right on this one for a change. (or at least it might be implied.)

OK, if you watch the final episode, you know that jinx made the sacrifice taking Warwick with her while Vi screams for her. This scene absolutely broke my heart and for about a good 15 minutes I thought she was dead.

Until I went back and watched the last couple of scenes.

Something that I found interesting is that Caitlyn was looking at the blueprint of the vent system, more specifically where Jinx made her ultimate sacrifice. We all know that arcane is not a show that would just throw in details all without reason. Everything has a point everything is calculated to either imply something or show something.

Why would Caitlyn be looking at the blueprint and why would the show creators specifically zoom in on certain airways? Well, of course, then none other to imply that Jinx could've escaped through one of these, therefore possibly surviving.

Now with that alone, it probably doesn't mean anything. It is nothing but a skeleton of what possibly could be, it needs flesh and muscle for it to actually be a Working theory.

But then, as I watched the final scene before the credits, tell me why an airship from Piltover airship very similar to the ones that we saw in episode one where powder said that she would be flying one of those one day. Why was it flying away into the distant sky, then followed by the classic Jinx glitches with the words the end?

Tell me why a show that is so focused on each, and every small detail, from micro expression to touches that linger just a second too long for it to be nothing, Even the drawings and graffiti around Zaun. why would a show so focused on those types of details do something like that if Jinx was not alive? It does not make any sense. It would not make any sense for the show.

Need more proof?

if you pay attention when Caitlyn and Vi are talking, specifically towards the end where Vi leans into Caitlyn, the expression on her face is not one of relief, but rather one of knowing something. She was the one looking at the blueprint, and she was the one who noticed the potential escape route that jinx would know better than anyone because it wasn't her sort of Home in the vent system? How could she not know how to escape?

it's also very satisfactory to her character arc, it was only in season two where we started to see her perception of death start to shift, it was only when Isha came into her life that she really started to understand her own mortality and not completely disregard her life like she used. the prison scene with Vi, where she's sort of regresses back to the mentality of everyone around me will get hurt because of me. while in act three she did begin to disregard her life again, I would like to think that her talk with Ekko might've snapped her back into place. So instead of losing jinx's character development in its entirety, she continues on the same path where she was while still keeping her goal of letting VI be happy the same.

Plus the pink streak coming up the side of the hex gate tower, it's similar to the way that Jinx charges at Vi in their fighting scene.

Now, this is the part where you go into the comments and call me delusional and make fun of my theory but thank you for comming to my Ted's talk

[arceus-insanity]

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

[lesbo-tuliplvrr]

slumber party

bestfriend!abby x bestfriend!reader

summary: your best friend abby calls you up for a sleepover after having not spent time together in months.

clingy!abby, friends to lovers, college!abby, college!reader, fem!reader, y/n used once, medicalstudent!abby, fluff, minor angst but mostly it's one sided, no specific descriptions of reader other than them being shorter than abby and having their hair uncovered at night

wc: 3.2k

Abigail anderson. Your best friend since primary school. Your longest friendship. Your longest crush.

You hadn't always had a crush on Abby. Sure you loved her, but only really as a friend. That was, until junior year of highschool when her body had started noticeably changing. She started working out more, her biceps bulging through every tshirt. She had a growth spurt too, now almost towering over you. You yourself weren't that short but her stature made for a quite prominent difference.

You weren't usually shallow, But c'mon. Abby was already one of the best persons in your life; smart, caring, trustworthy. Turns out you only needed that little extra push to transform your platonic admiration for her into something else. This had been going on for 5 years and you had zero intention of ever letting her know.

It would just be way too risky, confessing something like that. What if she wanted to cut you off? What if she was disgusted by your feelings? What if being friends for so long bit you in the ass and she saw you more like a sister?!

And plus, dropping something like that on her when she was already swept up by her studies to become a doctor most of the time, would be horrible. You figured, you just had to let the feelings die. Of course it was taking much longer than expected, going onto the 6th year of having said crush, but it just had to be done.

So when Abby told you her dad would be out of town and that you should sleep over, you found yourself at a crossroads. You could go, and spend time with your best friend and it be a great night. Or you could go and be so incredibly uncomfortable hiding your feelings.

"Come on, we haven't had a slumber party in ages. I feel like we're always so busy we barely have any time for each other anymore. which is crazy for us!" Abby suggested as she spoke to you over the phone.

Yeah, totally not because I've been purposefully distancing myself to get rid of this festering crush.

You responded, "I mean , don't you have studying to do? I'll just distract you."

"Dont worry about me. Plus, you wouldn't distract me, you never do." She replied with her honey-like voice that would never cease to make you melt.

"We both know that's a lie but sure." You gave in. It was your best friend. Plus you really hadn't had time together in the past few months.

It was just a sleepover with Abby. All you had to do was act normal and it'd be fine. It's just Abby.

Abby answered the door when you arrived, immediately pulling you in a for a hug, stating how much she missed you and how long its been since you properly hung out, just the two of you.

"This place hasn't changed at all." you say, looking around at the familiar picture frames of her and her dad still plastered in their same spots on the walls.

"Yeah, we're both pretty busy all the time so," she trailed off. "You want anything to drink?" she asked, grabbing your overnight bag from you and heading to place it in her room.

"Nah, but I'll help myself, it's fine." you respond, following her into her room.

Her room has seen a few minor changes, none of which younwerent aware of though. It might have been years since you actually set foot into her bedroom, but you still saw it regularly. During your as frequent as possible facetime calls, you got to see through her camera the little changes she'd make to her walls. Even got to help in the decision process sometimes.

"It's been a while since you've been in here huh?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, eyeing you as you peered at all her stuff.

"Yeah, cant believe how long it's been." you replied, distracted by the sheer amount of personality visible on her walls and desk.

Her college textbooks neatly tucked away on the side of her desk in a stack, near her pencil holder that held various shades of highlighters and pens. There were multiple pictures on the wall directly above her desk, along with many post it's of medical terms. Most of them were of her and her dad, or of her dog froma. few years ago, Alice. But right in the middle there were two of you and her. One from when you were much younger, closer to the time you first became friends and the other from your highschool graduation.

You made a mental note to take more pictures with her once you overcame your crush.

You looked around for a moment more, realising there was no mattress or anything on the ground. Sure, you slept on the same bed together before but that was when you were kids. Years ago.

"Soooo should I sleep on the couch or the ground?" you asked jokingly, secretly hoping she'd actually have an answer.

She laughed, "Oh come on, it might've been some time but we're not strangers." she joked with her beautiful smile.

Fuck.

You chuckled at this, hoping it seemed genuine and didn't expose the fear you felt of being so close to her for so long. Abby, however, noticed your shift in energy. Choosing not to say anything, she promptly changed the subject.

"Alright, what's for dinner?" she got up from the bed and led you both back out to the living room. Grabbing the TV remote, she put on one of her rnb playlists. "I was thinking we could cook something, chat and catch up for a bit then maybe watch a movie or something."

Gosh, she'd really thought this through. "Abby I hope that you don't have outstanding assignments due while you're doing all of this," you scolded her, already getting back into the groove of things.

She sighed, "Uugggghhh no, mom. I'll have you know that I am actually very ahead of my assignments. And even if I were behind, I'd still wanna be hanging with you tonight."

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow as she came around your frame to hug you from behind. You forgot how physically affectionate she was, and how much you missed it. You tried to not lean into it too much. The last thing you needed right now was to give yourself any false hope.

"I just- I really need this right now," she said with a sigh that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, dropping her head on your shoulder. You were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings that you hadn't even stopped to think about how stressful school and everything must be for her. You turned your head slightly towards her, faces mere inches away from each other.

"I really need this right now and you're so fucking tense that I can't even give you a proper hug!" she stated, attacking you with tickles.

You screamed in laughter as she jammed her fingers into your sides, not giving up her mission to make you laugh. You tried running away but her grip on you was too strong, as expected of abby. Your attempts, however, did lead you to toppling over the couch, with her on top of you. She continued tickling you as you laughed, both smiling wide.

Through squeals and breaths you tried to reason it her, "Okay! Okay stop."

"There she is," she smiled, finally halting the tickles. You looked up at her, trying so very hard not to grab her by the collar and kiss her stupid.

She sat up, straddling your hips as you still lay on the couch, breathing heavily. You raised your head slightly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Gathering her breath, she started, "Okay. Now tell me, what's going on with you?" she asked, pushing her flyaways behind her ears.

Confused you asked, "Me?"

"Mhmm, you've been all distant and weird around me for quite some time." she supplied, hands resting on her thighs. her big, muscular thighs. snap out of it!

Shit, she noticed. "I-" you didn't know how to respond.

Worry evident on her face she continued, "Did I do something? Because if I did you gotta let me know, i- I've been so focused on school and-"

"No! no, n- it's not anything you've done. don't worry" you answered, "I guess I've just been feeling a bit...." you pulled something out your ass quickly, "lonely, lately."

Not entirely wrong. It was gonna have to work.

"I'm sorry." she replied, empathy clear on her face as she leaned forward to hold your arms. "But hey, I guess this came at the perfect time then huh? You won't be lonely tonight, I'll make sure of it. 'kay? Now let's go make something and you have to tell me everything that's been going on with you." she pat your thighs before coming off. Her weight would be a missed presence on your lap.

The music played at a comfortable volume as you two easily maneuver around the kitchen, cooking up a simple pasta dish. You talked about anything and everything, fully catching each other up on what the other had missed in their lives. In all your attempts at dodging her and keeping your distance, you'd forgotten why you two were best friends in the first place.

Abby was easy to talk to. She always knew how to cheer you up and how to comfort you. As did you to her. When you would hang out, there was always fun to ensue. Which is exactly why you fell in love with her. But as you were here, having chopped and prepared all the other ingredients and awaiting the water to boil, dancing and laughing around the kitchen hand in hand with Abby, you decided that just for tonight you could forget the complications that having a crush on Abby would cause and just lean into your best friend whom you missed so much.

When the meal was done, you both retreated to the couch where you sat closely next to each other in search of a movie to watch.

"I feel like nothing looks good," Abby stated, as she kept scrolling through the site.

"We could always hate watch something?" you suggested cheekliy, knowing that Abby was already not a big movie person and that it would be an utter waste of time for her to watch one that wasn't good.

"Ha ha very funny." she deadpanned, "What's that one you always wanted to watch when we were younger? Let's just watch that."

"Are you sure? Because you'll have to put up with me quoting almost the entire thing. And singing all of the songs." you weren't really asking seeing as she had already found the film, Tangled, and was ready to press play.

"I'll be fine pumpkin."

She hadn't called you that name in years. It was nice to hear it again.

As promised you quoted almost all of the movie, under your breath though, so as to not annoy Abby too much. It was more like a light whisper/lipsync. Unbeknownst to you, while you were thoroughly enjoying what was one of your favourite movies ever, Abby hadn't even been paying attention. She'd been looking at you for the majority of the film's runtime, only looking at the screen when you turned to look at her and found her not focused enough.

"You're missing important character development here Abby, he bought the apples for maximus!"

After the movie you both cleaned the dishes, then went to her room.

Another thing you forgot to consider in all your rumination, showering. You and Abby weren't the shower together type of best friends but it was definitely a 'not a big deal if we see each other naked' type of deal. So you'd often change into and out of clothes in front of each other with no problems. If the whole night so far wasn't gonna do it, this would be the fucking nail in the coffin. Abby, changing out of her clothes, right in front of you.

You didn't want to come off as suspicious by clearly turning away but you also didn't want to feel like a perv and look at her in her underwear, knowing full well that you wished it were under different circumstances. So you opted for casually directing your attention to somewhere else in the room as she stood naked a few feet in front of you.

"I guess I'll go in first," she annouced grabbing her towel and leaving the room.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you quickly undressed and wrapped your towel around your body. You sat at the edge of her bed and waited for her to be done as you tried to calm your nerves.

It absolutely did not help your nerves when she stepped out of the bathroom and into her room, glistening from the shower. Muscles on full display, unbraided hair cascading down her back while some stuck to her face. She looked like a goddess. You quickly got up and headed into the shower, leaving her in her room to change.

It was like the more you decided to just let go of your feelings for Abby, the more she'd do things that made you fall for her all over again. You ended up taking way longer than usual in the bathroom, mustering up the courage to face her again while also trying to steady your heart rate.

Finally exiting the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, she closed the door, took off her bedroom light and hopped in right next to you. At first you both stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling, before she broke the silence.

"I'm really glad you were able to come," she expressed, turning on her side to face you.

You mimicked her position, scooting a little closer to the middle of the bed. "I'm glad I did."

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, really taking the other in, before you spoke up again.

"You said you really needed this, what's going on with you?" you asked, poking a finger into her arm.

She looked down at where you touched her arm then back up into your eyes. Sighing with a smile, she responded, "School has been kinda stressful I guess, but to tell you the truth, I just missed you." She scooted closer to you, moving her hand from under her head to caressing yours.

No. She meant that as a friend of course. Do not get your hopes up again.

"You're tense again." she pointed out, hand still laying on your hair.

God, why was she so perceptive?!

"No I'm not?" you scoffed. Your deflection did not work on her.

"Yes you are. You've got that look in your eye again," she continued caressing your hair, "What's going on up there?"

You sat up, pulling away from her touch. She followed you in sitting upright on the bed.

You knew that lying about everything being fine would not work any better than it's been all day, so you figured you'd at least give her something.

"If I tell you, you might not want to hang around me anymore."

She looked at you incredulously. How could you ever think something like that? "Did you kill someone or something?" she teasingly suggested with a laugh, that being the only plausible situation in her head. She didn't miss how you looked at her, amusement absent on your face.

"Sorry, I just- no matter what it is, I won't stop being your friend y/n." she said seriously, one hand moving to touch your thigh.

"Please don't, because if I tell you and you really don't wanna be associated with me anymore it'll just hurt more." you barely got out, eyes becoming teary. You knew you were scared of something like this happening. Your increasing heartbeat and glassy eyes further proved just how terrified this made you.

If Abby wasn't worried before, she certainly was now. "Hey, I get to decide who stays in my circle and who doesn't okay?" She cradled your face.

You shook your head, still not giving into confession. "Everything's gonna change and I don't want it to so let's just forget it."

"If things have to change...then I'll just make sure it's for the better." How could she be so reassuring without even knowing what was going to be said? She held your chin, tilting your head to look at her.

With a sigh, you finally gave in, "I feel so much..love.....for you..since high school. And it's only gotten worse recently. I swear I've tried making it go away, I've tried so much. I don't wanna be a bad friend by springing this on you but i also know that trying and failing to hide it isnt doing me any favours either so.." Tears were streaming down your face, your sniffles becoming the most prominent sound in the room.

"And now because you know, things are never gonna be the same and I just wish I'd been better at hiding it. I wish I never had these feelings in the first place. Then this wouldn't be happening and I wouldn't have to lose my best friend right after we had so much fun together."

Abby was silent. Staring into your eyes, her expression unreadable. She looked down into her lap, a small smile growing on her lips, before looking back up at you.

She leaned forward till there was barely space in between the two of you. Abby glanced down at your lips then back up to your eyes, making it clear what she was referring to. "Can I?"

Your heart rate was through the roof. There's no way she wanted this too. "Are you not.. worried about how things are gonna be between us now?"

"I said I'd make sure the change was for the better, didn't I?"

"You can."

In what felt like zero time, Abby carefully crashed her lips onto yours. Her lips were soft, her touch gentle. It was exactly what you imagined this to be like.

Gently pulling away, she wiped your tears with her thumb, looking at you with so much love in her eyes you swore the rest of the world would now be void of it.

Through sniffles and smiles you apologized, "Sorry hah, I'm a mess."

"Did you really think I couldn't love you?" Abby asked, holding your face in her hands. "I've loved you before I even knew what love was, pumpkin."

Her efforts to wipe your tears were now fruitless, your eyes pouring out streams of emotion.

She pulled you in for a hug. This time, a proper one, without the weight of what could have been laying on your entire being. You shared one more kiss, Abby then kissing your forehead as you both lay down to finally sleep. A sleep void of worries and stress.

You were actually hers.

soooo sorry if that was basically 95% buildup for 5% payoff. I totally wrote this in a whim at late hours of the night. anyway, hope you enjoy. requests are open! to those whove requested, I am working on your stuff so have no fear :>

[thewadapan]

I do recommend people take this test, it's a riot.

But like, it's not a study. (The site linked above appears to be yet another waste-of-space Amazon-affiliate-advertising content aggregator grift, which talks a big game about Creative Commons but why would I want to repurpose any of this material in the first place? The only original content I can see here is obviously-AI-generated thumbnails for the art, which look like dogshit. The original results post for the test is a much better read.)

The way the test is designed is like this. Images were roughly balanced by art style: so of all the digital-art pieces, 50% are human, 50% are AI, same for the renaissance paintings, same for the impressionist stuff, same for abstract. Except, obviously, the human pictures have been selected to exhibit stereotypical signs of AI-ness: overdetail, odd scaling, incorrect proportions, random meaningless shapes, illegible text. Meanwhile, the AI stuff has been filtered to avoid anything that had obvious tells to a layman's eye, like fucked-up hands or whatever.

So it's basically a game of like... whatever your gut instinct tells you the image's provenance is, it's probably the opposite.

When you filter out the human works, and look at the provenance of solely the AI pictures (as given in the results post), that's when you find out what this test is actually indicative of. The pieces were mostly generated by two ACX readers, Ryan Wise and Jack Galler. I remember spotting every single one of Ryan's images, without fail. Meanwhile, nearly all of Jack's images fooled me. (There were also a handful of other AI images taken from social media or whatever, which again, I easily pegged as being AI-generated, they're pure slop.)

I'll actually go so far as to say that it's pretty embarrassing for Ryan that he thought these images were good enough to share. Wall-eyed figures whose clothes blend into flesh, abstract shapes with eerily-lifelike inhuman faces leering out of the picture, inconsistent details... but most of all, a sense that the prompts themselves were bereft of any creativity. "robot skeleton abstract painting", "woman in field impressionist". Come on man. AI is the ultimate tool for ideas-guys, and yet here you are without a single idea to show for yourself.

Ryan was apparently using StableDiffusion. Meanwhile, here's Jack talking about his process:

I just used Midjourney. Most of the prompts were just describing some generic impressionist scene. I've never had an art history class (but I am an art history fan!), so I worked with ChatGPT to identify key trends of say, Impressionism, so I could prompt better. I generated a lot of each one ,and just used my subjective opinion to decide what looked good and what didn't. The Paris Scene (which fooled the most people) had this prompt: "Impressionist painting of a bustling Parisian street under the soft rain, 1881" The Riverside Cafe (which people liked the most) had this prompt: "Impressionist painting of a countryside café terrace during twilight, 1883"

It seems that specifying a year in particular was what helped Midjourney hone in on these historical styles in a convincing way. Jack's method obviously involved a huge amount of cherry-picking—which I would argue is another huge element of human intervention, if only in a sense of curation. A version of this test I would like to see would be one where both different AI models and a range of talented artists were given the same prompt. What if it was one-shot, with just a single generation, no cherry-picking? Except of course an AI can generate thousands of paintings in the time it takes a human to do just one, so what would that even prove?

This test reminded me of a piece I saw on deviantART a long time ago, of this ruined fantasy castle in a cave. Pretty cool! But then you look at it a bit longer, and it's like- hang on, why is that human skull the size of the collapsed turret lying next to it? It's exactly the kind of nonsensical composition you see in AI, except no, it's just a digital artist using photoshop and they fucked it. I kind of feel like this is where the state-of-the-art of AI image generation is right now; about as good as a guy bashing together stock assets in photoshop, which is to say maybe good enough to get an idea across, even if it can't actually stand on its own two legs as a piece of art.

So yeah, from a cynical perspective, I'd find it hard to argue that Jack's generations aren't "good enough" for many applications. I don't know that I'd hang any of them in a gallery. The longer I look at them, the less I like them. But they've got the right vibes.

So a more accurate headline for that BOING BOING article might be, "AI art haters unknowingly prefer AI-generated works by Jack Galler, according to test".

If there's one thing I'll be taking away from this post, that's helped me better understand my own feelings on AI art, it's this analogy from digital artist Ilzo, quoted in the results analysis:

Imagine if everyone got the ability to create mostly nutritional adequate meals for like five cents, but they all were mediocre rehydrated powder with way too much sucralose or artificial grape flavor or such. And your friends start inviting you over to dinner parties way more often because it's so easy to deal with food now, but practically every time, they serve you sucralose protein shake. (Maybe they do so because they were used to almost never eating food? This isn't a perfect analogy.) Furthermore, imagine people calling this the future of food and saying chefs are obsolete. You'd probably be like "wow, I'm happy that you have easy access to food you enjoy, and it is convenient for me to use sometimes, but this is kind of driving me crazy".

Last month, over 11,000 people took Astral Codex Ten's survey to see if they could they tell the difference between 50 human-made art and AI-generated images. The results were humbling for humans, especially ones who professed a loathing for AI art.

Most participants stumbled through the test, scoring just 60% — barely better than flipping a coin. What tripped them up? Our preconceptions about art styles, it turns out, are deeply ingrained. When people saw classic Impressionist paintings, they confidently declared them human-made (and were often wrong). When they encountered digital art, they quickly labeled it as AI (and were frequently mistaken).

Perhaps the most ironic finding was about people who claimed to despise AI art. When these AI critics picked their favorite pieces without knowing their origin, they consistently chose AI-generated works. Even among those who rated their hatred of AI art at maximum levels, their top two favorite pieces were created by machines.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (1)

posted this originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

Emily Scott, sister of legendary lionesses Jill Scott, has died at the age of 21. Wife Amelia Scott-Higgins in intensive care. 

Police have confirmed that Emily Scott was murdered in her family home over the weekend, her wife, Matilda’s star Amelia Scott-Higgins is in intensive care after sustaining life threatening injuries. 

Waking up in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages and in heaps of pain was not exactly how I expected my day to go but here we are. I don’t remember much. I remember going home after training, I stopped to get dinner, chicken carbonara and garlic bread from our favourite Italian restaurant and then flowers from the corner stand that Emily was obsessed with. I was already late so who cares if I was a little extra late. 

I remember the front gate being open, which is never normally the case, I remember the front door being unlocked but closed, again not normal but sometimes Em is in a rush when she gets home. As I took my shoes and coat off and wandered down the hallway, I didn’t notice the guy standing behind the door, or the guy on the couch, or Emily in the back room tied to a chair. I didn’t notice any of it. The only thing I noticed before it went black was the two wine glasses, one tipped over and smashed, the other full. 

Chelsea FC superstar, Amelia Scott-Higgins has QUIT mid season. 

CLICK TO READ MORE….

Where is football superstar Amelia Scott-Higgins?

Moving to Barcelona was the best thing I could’ve done. No one knows me,no one knows what happened or who Emily was. I am invisible. As soon as I could, I quit, left England, deleted all my social media and changed my number. 

The rehab was incredibly hard. That’s to be expected considering I have multiple stab wounds to my stomach, my leg cut up, bruises covering every part of my body. I was still me though. Maybe not on the surface but deep down I was. I missed Emily everyday, I missed our life together, I miss the little things. 

My apartment was empty. Nothing on the walls, plain furniture, it looked more like a show house than something someone would actually lived in. It didn’t bother me, it made my brain have to work less. All I did was rehab, surf and doom scroll. I came across the Manuelas instagram page, a gay bar in Barcelona. From what I’ve heard it’s incredibly popular but I’ve never been. They had a shirt available, “lesbian services”, after inquiring they allowed for me to pick it up. 

I was meeting someone called Olga, slightly worried as I had no idea who she was, I let it play out. 

“Hola! Are you Amelia?” 

“Hola, yes I am.” 

“Perfect! I’m Olga! Let me take you inside and you can get whatever you want. They said you’ve paid so you can get anything.” 

Stickers, hats, shirts, they had it all. I grabbed one of everything and then had a chat with Olga. 

“You’re not around here are you? Your Catalan and Spanish is good but the accent is a bit weird.” 

“Oh nah. I’m Australian. Lived in London for a few years but I’m here now.” 

“Oh wow! How long have you lived here?”

“3 years now. It’s beautiful. I don’t get out much but I’m trying to get out more.”

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Uh um, I used to play -“ 

“Amelia? Is that you?” Keira Walsh and Lucy Bronze. Right in front of me. I haven’t seen them for 3 years, purposely ignoring all of them and essentially falling off the face of the earth. 

“Amelia! What are you doing here? Give me a hug!” 

“Hey guys. Long time so see.” This is not what I wanted. More and more people started surrounding us. 

“Holy shit. That’s Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s been MIA for so long. I miss watching her” the short one with dimples tried to whisper, it didn’t work. 

“Dude she used to be so good. What happened?” Her taller companion asked next. 

“That’s enough you two. She has ears and can hear you idiots.” Alexia Putellas. 2 time Ballon d’or and 2 time pain in my ass. “Hola Amelia. How are you?” 

“Fine thanks Alexia. And you?” 

“How do you all know each other? I am very confused here.” Olga spoke up. 

“Mil used to play for-“ Alexia started to say

“We are old friends!” This is why I don’t leave my house. 

“I need to go. I have things to do. Olga thank you so much for all this. If I owe any money let me know. Alexia, girls, it was nice to see you. Good luck this season.” Turning as quickly as I could to escape. 

“Milly, wait.”

“Kei, don’t. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Please can I have your number or something? It’s been 3 years and you disappeared.” 

“Give me your phone and I’ll put it in. I’m not good at replying. Bye Kei.” 

3 years since I stepped foot in England, 3 years since I buried my wife. 3 years since I’d spoken to my friends. 4 years since Emily died. 4 years since I played football, 4 years since I felt normal. 

[millieisawriter]

Workin' girl

arthur morgan x reader

summary: the one where arthur pulls a john — falling in love with a working girl. it was never supposed to happen, yet it did, and now arthur is left with two choices. either he, again, walks away from a woman that loves him, or tries to fight for her.

wc: 2k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

a/n: i see this happening in blackwater in case i decide to write a 2nd part, but when i started writing i imagined saint denis, didn't see any town/city names mentioned as i was proof-reading, lmk if you see something i missed <3

Life has never treated you kindly so eventually, as soon as you could leave your family home, you turned to the oldest profession in the world. Even if that kind of life was better, it still wasn't ideal, but it was the best you could do. Eventually, you started to like it because even with its issues and dark sides it wasn't that terrible. Some would even dare saying it was 'easy money', which you actually knew wasn't true.

Luckily for you, you ended up in one of the more expensive brothels. Maybe it was the 'splendor' of the place, the luxorious interior, that made you feel somewhat safe. Safer than you would feel in some cheap saloon where the patrons consisted of drifters with a questionable past.

You had your regular patrons, ones that you got along with well — one of the reasons why they were your regulars. These were the men that could stay a bit longer after the service itself was done without making it awkward. Ones that you could have a conversation with, ones that saw you as another human being, not just an item to relieve their frustration.

It was a normal evening, the building was neither empty nor full. You didn't have that much on your hands, you and a fellow working girl were entertaining a group of men. They sat by a table, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other, and two of these men had a companion in their lap — you and your friend. Ending the evening in the bedroom wasn't certain, for now you were just trying to make them spend as much money as possible on the drinks.

Then, Arthur walked in. One of your regulars, one you were particularly fond of. The chemistry between the two of you was so strong sometimes you wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay.

His eyes immediately found you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous seeing you in the man's lap. But you, as if on command, turned to look at Arthur and as you noticed your favorite patron, you excused yourself from the table.

"Mister Callahan," you beamed, approaching the man, "so good to see you again."

He tipped his hat to you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Evenin' darlin', thought I'd stop by again. You been keepin' busy?"

The way he always called you darling, every time, made you feel so warm and bubbly. Of course, he wasn't the first man to do that, but when it came from him, it felt almost sincere.

"Busy enough," you replied, glancing over your shoulder at the table of men you just left, "but I'll always make time for you, mister."

"Well, reckon I'll take you up on that. How bout we find a quiet spot?"

"Your wish is my command." Giggling, you took Arthur by the hand to lead him upstairs where your room was. Even if he already knew the way well enough.

Your room was just like any other room in that brothel — furnished with the most luxorious-looking furniture, tastefully decorated with expensive ornaments, every little detail taken care of.

As the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the world outside seemed to fade miles away. In that moment right there it were just the two of us, bathed in the dim light by the fireplace's glow.

Arthur's hat found its usual place on the small table by the door and he turned to face you, "I can never stay away for too long." Shortly, his hands landed on your waist, resting on the corset of your dress.

"Then maybe you should visit more often..." You suggested, your own hands finding their way to the man's shoulders.

"I'm afraid it ain't a good idea, darlin'. I always look forward to seein' you. But sayin' goodbye..."

"I get what you mean," you chuckled, "so what's it gonna be today? Just the regular service, or you want something extra? It'll be on the house."

Every time Arthur visited you, it was both blissfull and painful for him. You were so good at what you were doing it felt like a religious experience, but the attachment he held for you left a hole in his heart each time he had to say goodbye.

He had always wished he could just ask you to leave this life, and join the gang, but which woman would agree for this? Your current life, your current job, as oppressing as it was, couldn't be worse than living on the run. In Arthur's eyes at least.

In the brothel you had your own room, a wardrobe with many dresses. You had a somehow stable income, it didn't seem as if money were any issue to you. All this, compared to what you could have in the camp, was much worse. And you didn't even know his real last name, there was no reason for you to leave this life you had for a criminal.

Why did Arthur even fall for a working girl? The exact same thing happened to John, which Arthur would often make fun of him for. Maybe life just decided to pull a joke on Arthur now. But he just couldn't control himself, from the first time he saw you, you were different. With other women it didn't take long to notice they're just playing a role, but you... from the first time you even smiled at Arthur, he was drawn to how genuine it looked. And now, you had become not just a pretty face to entertain him, but someone he felt at ease with.

This time, as many times before, Arthur didn't hurry to get dressed and leave the room, return back to camp after getting what he wanted. Instead, he stayed under the covers in your bed, smoking a cigarette as you kept going on about something that happened a few days ago.

He didn't mind, he could let you yap his ears off, your voice was such a calming sound. It was almost hard to believe you weren't just a hallucination he made up. How could such an ethereal being just lay there, next to him, head propped propped on your palm as you lay on your stomach, talking about whatever nonsense? How could this happen to a man like Arthur Morgan?

"...so then," you paused to take the cigarette from Arthur, take one puff and hand it right back, "you'd think a man like him would have some sense, right? Well, no, he was so damn thick in the head, she just told the guard to throw him out!"

Arthur chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Bet he didn't see that comin'. I'm glad I ain't made it onto your list of thick-headed fools yet."

"Yet!" You playfully reminded him. "You seem to have more sense than others, although I can't say I'm some weak little girl. I don't even need a guard, but the madam insists it's for safety."

A thought lingered in the back of Arthur's mind. It was weird, in a sense, to know there's a guard right outside your door whenever you had a man up there. Even right then.

"I don't doubt you could handle yourself, darlin'," Arthur smirked, taking one last drag from his cigarette, "but it don't hurt havin' someone lookin' out for you."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Guess you're right, mister."

Arthur stubbed out the ciragette into the ashtray that stood on the bedside table, knowing what it meant. His time was up, he extended the time of his visit as long as he could. Now that his usual cigarette was finished, it was the time for him to go.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. You watched as he reached for his clothes that had been thrown onto the floor, and for the first time a single tear started to burn the corner of your eye.

With his jeans already on, and his shirt for now unbuttoned, he reached to the pocket, retrieving the usual payment. You wiped the tear away as it escaped your eye. It was always the same routine, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go.

"Here it is." He said almost robotically, placing the money next to the ashtray, throwing in a little tip.

You looked at the money with sadness in your gaze, then your eyes shifted to look at the man. "You know, you shouldn't have to pay, because you don't make it feel like work."

There they were, the words Arthur was so afraid to hear. Him having a more romantic kind of attachment to you was one thing. However, knowing that you reciprocated the feeling, made it more difficult.

"Good," he nodded, "cause you don't make me feel like the bastard I am," as he buttoned up his shirt.

You sat up on the bed, pulling the sheets harder around you, since you were still naked. "Arthur..." You sighed, the rest of the sentence dying in your throat.

The fact that for the first time you had used his actual name instead of calling him mister as always, made it only more difficult.

"No, darlin', don't."

"You know you don't have to leave, right?"

Oh, he had to leave. If he overstayed his welcome too much, the guard at your door would become highly suspicious. And that would only cause issues for you.

"I have to, don't wanna make it harder." Arthur replied.

"Harder for who? I know a man's nature well enough, and I can tell there's something more in the— the way you fuck me, Arthur."

He thought maybe playing dumb would help him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you were to ask me to... to abandon this life for you... I would."

Arthur gulped. It was just what he wished for, but what he couldn't allow to happen. "I've got nothin' to give you. I live on the run, it ain't somethin' you wanna be a part of, trust me."

"You think I'd rather keep fucking strangers to survive, than travel the world with a man I lo—"

"You don't." Arthur interrupted you. "You don't know what you're talkin' bout." Love was a word of huge weight, there was no way it was what you felt for him.

You insisted. "I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, I see it in your eyes, I feel it when you're in my bed, Arthur. I wanna leave this life for you."

"It ain't gonna be no escape, though, just another kind of trap. You deserve better than fuckin' strangers to get by, but you also deserve better than runnin' and not knowin' which day will be your last."

"I don't want better!" At that point you didn't care if the guard outside will hear. "I want you, Arthur!"

"I want you too, darlin'," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly, "but... you're safer here. I can't sentence you to a life of an eternal wanderin'."

His words had a final tone, but as well as you could read his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying what he had just said. You could have had a roof over your head, and locks in your door, but it wasn't safety. It was survival.

You stepped closer, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. You knew he didn't want to leave, you were sure he wants you just like you wanted him. "Arthur..."

His heart ached when he saw the way your beautiful eyes looked at him, but still he decided to kiss you. It only made it worse, making another cut in Arthur's already damaged heart.

"I gotta go." He stated, freeing his hand from yours.

"No." You refused as if you had any say in that matter. You could demand he takes you with him now, wherever he's headed, but what would it do?

"I can't make promises," he continued, putting his boots and jacket on, then his hat, "but I'll figure somethin' out."

You stayed silent, watching him leave the room, not knowing if he's going to keep his word. All you had now was the money, that you didn't even want from him, and the promise that could have been empty.

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[revelboo]

I miss my husband Ratchet owo

Wasn’t sure which doc, so went with TFP

The Weakends Pt 8

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Stretching slowly, it’s the feel of something heavy against your back shifting against you that brings you wide awake. Relaxing when you realize you’re sprawled inelegantly on Ratchet’s red and white chassis, his servos draped across your back. He’s still out as you lift your head enough to see his face and you rest your chin on him to watch him, unwilling to wake him. As exhausted as you were, he’d been nearly dead on his peds and he needs this. Always pushing himself, driven to take care of everyone else and neglecting himself.

• There’s a spot of warmth on him, something soft under his servos as he comes back online. Starting to sit up and catching you against him when you start to slide. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen you recharge,” you say as he grimaces and wonders how long he’s been out. He hadn’t meant to rest so long, used to recharging in short intervals at his desk, sometimes drifting off while working on research. How long has it been since he’s had any significant rest in his actual berth? Usually his mind is too busy, keeping him wound up. But somehow having you there, feeling the beat of your heart kept him still. “You really need to take better care of yourself, doc.”

• You wait for the cranky grumbling, but he just touches a servo to the back of your head in a gentle bump as a rebuke and sits up completely, warm servos pinning you in place. “We need to check on Bumblebee,” he says, but he doesn’t move or shift his grip on you. Like he’s reluctant to start the day. Leaning against his warmth, you listen to the hum of his spark. Feel his servos flex against you before he vents tiredly and slides off his berth.

• “I don’t think I’ve been so mad at someone as I was at you,” you say as his peds hit the ground and he pauses to look down at you. Your little head is leaned against him, avoiding his optics. “Do you know how hard it is to see someone you care about just not give a damn about themself?” There it is, the root of your anger before. The truth. That it wasn’t his grouchy act that set you off, it was because of the way he pushed himself. Working himself to exhaustion again and again, because of course you’d noticed. Even knowing you, being around you, it’s so easy to forget how observant you are. Always looking to him.

• “I’m fine.” Liar. It’s pretty much what you expect from him, though, to play it off. Everyone else so much more important than his own health and happiness. You expect it, because you understand it all too well. It’s the same way you worry over those three kids, anxiety cranking you tight when they leave with the bots and you want to go with them to watch over them, because they’re just kids. And they’re so easy to overlook, a wrong step, a wrong move? You hate that they might be in danger. Wanting to take care of them and Ratchet, all of the bots. Because as dysfunctional as this is, it feels like a family and you want to protect that.

• “Yeah, so am I,” you mutter in a tone that clearly says that you aren’t. At all. He can feel those walls going back up, but admitting the truth? That he’s so tired of this war, of fighting? That he just wants something to break their way. A place to call home once and for all where he doesn’t have to watch friends die right in front of him. He can’t say those things. Not without cracking wide open, because that anxious worry is all that’s keeping him together. That and you.

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