#doubt it'll do anything but i might as well

[idrawtooslow]

I've expanded the instructions I gave for apologizing into a detailed listicle. I hope it'll be helpful. Some of the points, however, are very specific to the English language.

1. Don't explain what happened, it will sound like you're justifying your actions. And because of the way our brains work, you're likely to actually start justifying your actions. At that point, you're no longer apologizing. Remind yourself that the apology needs to have priority right now, and that there will be time later to identify causes and solutions.

2. Be specific, or at least use more words than "I'm sorry." "Sorry" is used so often as a polite noise, nearly meaningless, that it's difficult to be sincere, or even sound sincere when using it for a formal apology. Again, this ties into what @theconcealedweapon wrote: we're trained to say "sorry" when we don't mean it, so that becomes the core of the word's meaning, without our even realizing it. And if you're Australian, it gets even worse!

Personally, I use "I apologize" or "My apologies," or in dire circumstances, "Please accept my apology." This allows me to break my conditioning and focus on my genuine contrition, as well as making it clear to others that I'm taking the apology seriously.

3. Apologize for what you did, and absolutely NOT how it made someone feel. The latter is often used for manipulation.

Other things not to apologize for:

that the consequences of your actions happened

what you don't like about the person or group you're apologizing to

being right

being better than the people you're apologizing to

allegedly not having any idea what you're supposed to be apologizing for

...you'd think all this would go without saying, but it can be subtler than you might expect, and sometimes we do it without thinking, because we picked it up as children, from the nastier adults around us.

Instead, take a moment to focus on what you did, and how to describe it clearly in a way that accepts your fault and/or responsibility for the situation. Again, don't bring anything else into the apology, lest you make it seem less of an apology. People are so used to hearing the above crap from unrepentant people, that they will not give you the benefit of the doubt.

4. Watch your tone of voice. This is actually two separate points.

First, yet another thing we unconsciously pick up as children is the obviously sarcastic mock apology. It's not always a bad thing, it can be a joke or a verbal gesture, but you have to make sure you don't let that habit find its way into a genuine apology, and ruin it. This is where the bit about "Say it like you mean it" comes from. The easiest way to say it like you mean it is to mean it. See next paragraph.

Second, if you can't be respectful and express regret, you shouldn't be apologizing just yet. You're not ready. Leave the art of convincingly faking an apology to the con artists and cult leaders. You will probably need to just keep your mouth shut for a while. Acknowledge (to yourself) the possibility that you might change your mind later. In some rare cases, it may be possible to tell people, "I'm not ready to apologize just yet," but don't count on it.

5. (optional) If necessary and you can do it honestly, either characterize what you did, or agree with others' characterization of it, or promise to/ask how to not do it again, or multiple of the above. Say that it was wrong or inappropriate or a failure or whatever. Name people who called you out, say they were right, and repeat what they said about what you're apologizing for. If you promise not to do it again, don't pivot to talking about how great you will be in the future, keep it focused on the apology.

This might be a bit too much for less dire apologies, and you may not be able to manage this if you apologize the minute you can bring yourself to be sincere, but otherwise, you can build yourself some credibility by immediately seeking to improve yourself and make sure that YOU never do whatever-it-was again. It's more for privately apologizing to your direct supervisor, or to a friend.

On the other hand, beware of doing this if you're the authority figure, or are apologizing to a large group, because politicians routinely pivot away from making actual apologies by making big promises for the future. People are wise to this, though, and your whole apology is liable to be dismissed as bullshit if you try to use it for self-promotion.

So many people seem completely unaware of what a genuine apology is.

And that's because children are forced to say sorry on command.

Before they ever had a chance to process what they did, why they did it, what effect it had on others, or what they should have done instead, they're expected to say that they're sorry. And they're expected to "say it like you mean it" with no indication of what that even means and with no time to figure out how to phrase it correctly.

Sometimes, even when the child's actions are justified by any logical reasoning, they're expected to apologize because an authority figure demands it.

The goal of saying sorry ends up being solely to avoid punishment. And they phrase the apology in whatever way the authority figure will accept.

The result is an entire society filled with people who give completely useless apologies that appear like they're only trying to avoid punishment.

[assassuub]

In Regards to Fundamentally Ruining Ms. Marvel as a Character

I assume all of this has been said before by people better qualified to speak on these matters, but my anger over the recent... developments with Ms. Marvel has burnt out, leaving me just... sad and so very, very tired.

So these are just my few cents on the matter, before cutting most, if not all, Marvel content from my life.

Even beyond the grossly humiliating manner in which she was killed in a rather mediocre P*ter P*rker comic she shouldn't have been part of in the first place (regardless of how little she was actually present), this "N*w Mutant" she's been replaced with has so many glaring issues.

The Ms. Marvel that I loved, that I've experienced grow over years of character development wouldn't have suddenly reverted to a feckless fangirl, desperate for validation from adults that she doesn't know nor has interacted with. She's more naive than ever, even; the idea that a brown Pakistani-American Muslim girl needs to be lectured about how discrimination works by E*ma Fr*st (a White Blonde Girlboss Supreme, Race Supremacist, and Prior Terrorist) is not only laughable, but downright insidious and disgusting.

The character that I loved would never have discarded her family, friends, and team as easily as this mutant replacement did. Her statement that she didn't expect former-mentor Iron Man or supposedly-current-friend-and-teammate Nova (Sam Alexander) to come to her aid since she's "playing for the other team now" was deeply insulting. Her decision to reveal her identity to the world as an impossible "Inhu-mutant" was a shockingly naive and downright stupid idea that someone who has so zealously guarded her secret identity would never suggest, especially at a time when "anti-mutant hysteria" is at its peak; when it would so immediately bring harm to the people that she loved.

But that is a fundamental problem with the X-M*n and mutants as a whole: there is no room in the Marvel universe for them to exist without pushing them as a ludicrous allegory for discrimination. They can only exist as a mutant; only for the X-M*n's failing culture wars. Ms. Marvel especially struggles to fit into the X-M*n framework of discarding everything personal to push the X-M*n's ideology; where massive swathes of X-M*n simply lack any meaningful ties to the human world, Ms. Marvel has family and friends that accept and love her; family and friends that she wouldn't simply discard to deepthroat X-M*n boot.

Ms. Marvel was one of my favorite characters. I loved seeing her perspective on the world as a Pakistani-American Muslim. I loved her interacting with a wide variety of people, leading her team of individual heroes and friends. I loved that she and her Champions wanted to make the world a better place for all.

But that's a thing of the past now. The new, mutantier Ms. Marvel only cares about the X-M*n; about the X-M*n's stupid, segregationist ethnonation. She has abandoned her family and friends that I enjoyed seeing her interact with to desperately seek the validation of people she's never had a conversation with. Her values that led her to make her own team to fight to make the world a better place for all have been discarded for X-M*n ethnonationalism.

Ms. Marvel's dead. She died ignominiously, begging for validation from P*ter P*rker, only to be replaced by a bootlicking X-M*n prop that has fundamentally ruined everything that I loved about the character.

Also: The potential of an Ironheart story wherein she has a debut as a Magitech Hero was immense and something that I was looking forward to, as well. As you might imagine, I am also enraged that it was thrown away off-panel in favor of having the Iron Man comic be usurped by some witless X-M*n swill, but the ruination of Ms. Marvel is a higher priority.

[miserye]

i don't know if my roommate thinks it's weird that i like clean up after her (i don't mind doing it i like keeping the space the way i want it anyway aka clean) or if she appreciates it?? or if she thinks i'm super weird for it

[practically-an-x-man]

my community theatre is doing Little Shop of Horrors in January next year (but the auditions are next month because there will likely be a winter break in the middle) and I was like "it's a fun show but I don't know who I'd go for if I auditioned, there aren't any roles that really suit me"

and my dad goes "I dunno, it could be fun to see you as Seymour"

so guess what I'm going for now

[tasmanianstripes]

Amazing how it took the developers of Poppy Playtime two whole chapters to finally make a bare minimum of a functional game

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than guns

Decided to finally add some lands to my set, plus adjust the enchantment signposts

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[tan1shere]

Sports Car

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: to popular demand it's here ! - HA you thought I was done w "no new ideas I'm sticking to my drafts" .... well I surprised myself to, ignore it. ANYWAYS 😭 enjoy horny bitches 🥰😈

Summary: you love her new car.

Warnings: smut. And I MEAN smut, this one's going to be uh... different ! So read at your own risk lovelies. Dom bils as per, gear shift usage. You'll see ;) masturbation, cockwarming. Slight pervy billie !

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @xxangelfarrlzxx

Masterlist

"Hey! Cute jeans." You hear, turning around to be faced with none other than Billie. You had been friends for ages, honestly having a slight crush on her. Especially the way she'd constantly flirt with you. You tried not to get sucked in, saying she was just being casual. But your friend Claudia says otherwise. You had known Claudia first since you were children, getting to know Billie super well over the years of knowing her. It had only been in the last few that she became more... Brazen, with you. Openly doing whatever it was she did. You kept making excuses when Claudia would say. "She likes you!" You did not believe her in that. Pointing out how it was 'just her personality'

She'd give you a look that she clearly didn't believe you, in the slightest. Everyone decided to go out for the night, Finneas, Ricky, and a few others came along. "Hey, cute jeans?" Claudia whispers to you, which you shove her in return seeing as Billie was approaching. "Stop it." You mumbled. But it wasn't a lie that you didn't give that same energy back, no matter if it was just her being her. "Dug them up the other day, I haven't worn them in forever." You smile at her. Claudia thought it was impressive how fast you could slip out of your shy nervous self and into this different persona. Billie leans her arm on your shoulder, smirking slightly. "Yeah? You should wear them more."

"Might just have to since they're so cute." Her smirk turns into a grin. Everyone orders some drinks, conversing about anything and everything. "Billie got a new car yesterday." Finneas pipes up. "Really?" I turn to her. She nods. "You guys want to come see?" - "Without a doubt, let's go." Ricky says heading for the door, always full of great energy. It was a black Porche, very sporty like. "It's so nice." She opens the door for you as you sit, observing every bell and whistle it has inside. "Really nice." You then say after the first thing you said. "Yeah, good pick Bils." Ricky says. She looks at the way you admire it. "Wanna take a ride later?"

Oh golly gee.

Hmm, a challenge. You thought for a moment. Accepted. "Fine fine." You move to sink it into yourself, the strap hitting at a good angle. Making you sigh out into her ear. If anything she'd be worried of moving herself, that sigh going straight to her core. "Fuck sake." She says under her breath.

Your mind goes elsewhere, practically time skipping to- "Y/n?" You turn your head to look up at her. "Oh uh yeah, yup. Love to." You get out, the five of you heading back inside. As the night goes on you just can't help but falling for Billie more and more. It didn't help when you all started dancing, a few drinks in. Having fun nonetheless. Music plays, your tipsy state feeling it. Billies tipsy state feeling you. Her hands move over your body with ease as your back was to her front. You almost didn't feel real, what was happening. As her hands settle on your waist you move your eyes to them. Her cold rings on your skin. Yeah. It was time to go. You turn in her arms, looking at her. "How about that ride now." She smirks at you. "Yeah?" You nod, looking at the others. They'll be fine. You? You'll be more than fine.

She takes your hand taking you out to it. Once you get in, you get comfortable. She watches, starting it up. The air thick with unshed lust. It'll soon spill out of the both of you. She begins to drive. You look at her hand on the wheel, her veins especially prominent at the moment. You shift in your seat before you ask. "How fast can it go?" She doesn't reply at first, her upper lip moving up slowly as you suddenly feel her speed up drastically. Your eyes widen just for a moment as you hadn't expected her to just do it. You look at her, God she was attractive right now. More so than usual.

I can't take no more, im goin' weak in my knees.

"You know." You began. "I couldn't help but feel something earlier." - "That so? Do enlighten me babe." You suck in a breath quietly. "Maybe I should ride that instead." You suggest. Surprisingly bold. Her head turns to you as you were at a light. A bit surprised, but definitely considering it. "I mean if you really want to, better be fast the lights will change soon." Something switched inside you and now you need it. More than anything. Your hands hastily go to un-buckle her belt. "Eager are we?" You ignore her, definitely so. Looking around. It was 3 am and everything was pretty dead out. Everyone probably asleep. But before you decide to do anything you take your own jeans off. That boldness still evident.

We can share one seat.

Your heart picks up but you just do it, you move so you're straddling her lap. Making sure you weren't in her line of sight. Keeping to the left side of her neck. "You're trouble, y'know that?" You bite your lip, going to pull out the main event of your tactics. But her other hand grabs your face momentarily. "But- you can't move." Your face changes. "I'm driving doll, don't forget." Hmm, a challenge. You thought for a moment. Accepted. "Fine fine." You move to sink it into yourself, the strap hitting at a good angle. Making you sigh out into her ear. If anything she'd be worried of moving herself, that sigh going straight to her core. "Fuck sake." She says under her breath.

Now she realizes why this hadn't happened earlier. The two of you were dangerous together. Imagine if she wasn't being careful while she sped up on occasion. Imagine if she gets pulled over with you stuffed full, those cops would be traumatized. So would you. ... So would you, more so humiliated, but the thought of being caught like that was actually turning her on. She had to think of something else and focus. Just the fact after years of lusting over you, she finally has you where she's always wanted.

There was always alternatives while this lust fest was happening ofcourse. The obvious. You had actually just posted a new post on Instagram, looking extra good. Billie was sitting on her bed when she got a wicked idea. A filthy one. Does she go through with it. Hell yeah, she doesn't care. Even if that sounds pervy so be it, she was crazy about you. She stares at the photo, you were on a beach in a bikini. The two piece hiding practically nothing. Score. Her hand travels beneath her sweats, moving past her underwear. Imagining you ontop of her, your tits. That soft voice of yours. How nervous you could get. No matter how much you'd flirt back she knew how shy you were. She feeded on it. Even if she loved you flirting back, she adored when your cheeks would go red. It gave her a egotistical power that she loved. Not only that, you were just the cutest in her eyes, the blush making every feature on your face just stand out. God she was mesmerized by you. Her fingers had entered herself, speeding up at the thought of her making you nervous.

She prayed it'd happen more. Her mind wanders, imagining the soft sounds you'd make, whimpers whines. How they'd sound coming our of your pretty lips. Her hand speeds up, letting out a moan, herself. How she'd fit in you sooo, good. "Mmm, fuck." She curses under her breath, this was probably so wrong. Doing this to a photo of a close friend. But oh how she wanted more.

Your hips were still. Until they weren't, she had one hand on the wheel and the other on your waist making sure you kept to your word. It was killing her she had to refrain. She was in this challenge too. You shift a little, making her blink. You didn't mean to right? Oh but you did, you hated that you couldn't feel her properly. The silicone deep in you, smashing against your walls with the way she speeds. Nothing crazy, but you move. Again. Seeming more intentional. "Mama." Billie warns. You think you leaked just a tad, good God this woman. "But." You breathe into her neck. Oh your goddamm voice rings through her ears like a beautiful song. "Jesus." She breathes. Then you realize the kind of effect you're having on her. You realize that you have slight power in this situation. You smirk to yourself, she wasn't as cocky at the moment. Keeping very silent. You shift again.

Letting out a faint noise right next to her ear. "Don't think I can stay still for much longer Bils." She gulps, but her foot pushes down speeding up more.

We can uh - uh in it, while you drive it real far.

Desperate to find an empty parking lot. Somewhere surely. Until then, you were having your fun. This time you move fully on the plastic dick. Her chest rises slightly, needing you to just, behave. "Youre a fucking troublemaker." You giggle into her neck. "What? Can't find somewhere to park?" You make a little saddened noise. "Poor you. Is this getting to you?" You were in for a treat when she'd find one, she just had the best fucking idea. "Awh yeah, it so is baby. But guess what. Since you didn't listen, I have something in mind that's going to get to you even worse. You'll be a whiney fucking wreck. I promise you."

You move a bit to look at her, confused by what ever it could be. And within seconds she found an empty parking lot. You were done for. As she parks she grabs your hips. Moving the dick out of you, you whine out hating feeling empty so soon. "Naww, shame huh? It's ok you'll be full again very soon." Your brows furrow, what on earth was she going to do. "You like this car right?" You nod slowly. "Yeah? Mark it for me." Bewildered would be an understatement for how you were feeling right now. "W-what?" She bites her lip, she has you stuttering. You were getting nervous. "Mark. My car. With your cum." Your heart picks up, feeling it beat rapidly. What the fuck did she mean. "Want me to show you?" You warily nod, slowly.

Her hands grip your hips, grabbing the bottom of your underwear and moving it to the side, she effortlessly moves your cunt over the gear stick. Your eyes widen. Oh. That's what she had in mind. You felt a little embarrassed. "Fuck it, go on, seeing as you were so desperate to do so on me." You froze, there's no way. "What, shy now?" That fucking smirk was evil. She was enjoying this. "Go on baby, want a reminder." After the initial shock, you had to admit it did feel good against you. You move just slightly, feeling your mouth hang at this new feeling. Rough but so good. She watches you, enjoying every little bit of this. Your movements speed up a bit, but it wasn't as good as her inside you.

"So good it hurts." You moan out a whimper, moving gently against it, her eyes heavy on you and your movements. "That's it, atta girl. Keep moving." She says with a smirk. "It's too much.." You pant, enjoying it but wanting her more. Mind foggy with every possible fantasy. She says nothing. Watching you move slower against it. "Faster, harder, come on." Your forehead becomes sweaty. "Bils, please." Her head just shakes. "You didn't listen, keep going." Your lips were pouty, wanting, needing her desperately. "But.." Her head tilts at your small voice. "If you cum, I'll fill you up again. Deal?" Why was she wanting you to do this so bad, it was turning you on to the max though. Finding this side of her so incredibly attractive. You nod at her request. Needing to feel that strap again.

She moves her hand to your folds, spreading then against it. Your clit being exposed to the leather, just perfectly. Eyes, rolling back as you rock against it, feeling a tightness in your lower stomach. "I- I'm close." You breathe out. "Good, don't stop until you cum." Not even a second later your gushing down the black shift, her eyes gleaming with pride. Her finger moves to collect some and put it on her tongue. "Tasty." She hums. "Mm-kay. The deal." You speak tiredly. She chuckles at you. "You seem warn out. Maybe you should just rest in the-" You shake your head rapidly. "No please need you Billie. Please fuck me." It was merely pathetic, but its true you did need her. "Say no more." She smirks, grabbing your waist yet again. She positions you in the back. Leaning her body against yours.

Her hands grab the dildo. Taking your underwear off fully. "That's better." She sighs out, finally getting to look at your pussy. The one thing she dreamed about. "Even better in person." You didn't even care what she meant by that you both needed this as bad as one another. "Incredibly wet huh?" You shut your eyes. "Who got you so messy baby?" You take a moment, sucking in a nervous breath. "Y-you." The tip prods your hole. "Who?" "Mm, you Billie. You." You say as you feel it, so incredibly close to it's destination. "Please." You moan. Without any more words she bottoms out. Watching your face carefully as your eyes widen, mouth gaping. Hole too. "Mm, nice and deep." Your stomach erupts in butterflies as her voice turns into a husky whisper. Her mouth going to your ear. "So, so. Tight." That same whisper.

Going straight through to your dead mind. You let out a small whimper. Her pace begins, slow yet forceful. Her tongue darts out, licking your lobe. Moving down to your neck. "You know how long I've been waiting to have you like this. Been driving me nuts." She says against your skin. You pluck up some sort of sentence. "You know.. You could always do it on your own, while you're looking at me." Her smirk turns malicious. "Oh trust me, I do." Her thrusts pick up with such need. Needing this more than ever. Your head tilts. Back arching into her thrusts. "F-fuck!" The car becomes hot, steamy. The smell of sex very evident as your body's get clammy together. You grip her shirt, signaling for her to take it off.

She gladly does, chucking it on the floor of the backseat. She had no bra on, making your eyes instantly look. She smirks at you, noticing how your breath gets weaker. You couldn't believe this was really happening. "Breathe baby." She says, noticing how worked up you're getting. You sigh, very contently. Letting your eyes flutter close. "There you go, good girl." Your eyes open again, looking at her breasts. That same shyness coming back. Just what she wanted. Her hand reaches for yours gently, moving it to her right breast. "Don't be shy, it's ok." Your legs wrap around her waist, moaning as she trusts harder. Making it nearly impossible for you to focus. "Billie!" You screech. "Who." She stays sternly. She loved you saying her name.

Your voice so whiney, so soft. "Billie- fuck!" Your hair sticks to your forehead as she fucks you at an ungodly pace. "Yeah, me. I'm fucking you dumb." Something switches in her brain. Something primal. "Getting so loose, so easy to fuck." Woah. If you weren't on the verge of cumming before you definitely were now. "Nevermind, pussys closing around me." She says coming close to your face, kissing you. You squeeze her tit, moaning into her mouth. Perfect opportunity to stick her tongue in your mouth. And without any warning at all you cum, again. Taking her by surprise. You breathe heavily as she fucks you through it. "God you're good." You say. So out of breath, the heat inside the car insane. "Damn, I mean I wasn't even prepared, babygirl." She fakes a sigh.

"Guess a few more rounds would help." She smirks at your face. This was going to be a long, steamy night.

[tgcg]

hey guys. this is smth i have been thinking abt doing for a while but tonight i decided 4reel. i'm gonna put the blog on a kinda indefinite hiatus.

things have rlly changed for me & my life, & i need other things to change as well. i dont wanna divulge like... all my shit ere. but i just wanna say thanx to everyone who ever left a reply, kind message, fun ask, even just a like.

the kind of reception this blog got was totally beyond anything i coulda expected. i am still rly floored by it, u guys kindness & generosity. i'm rlly glad i could entertain you all and do right by these 2 guys.

i had so much fun here. making scripts & drawing them out. it's smth i have truly never experienced before & doubt i ever will anywhere else except this here blog. that was truly down to you guys & your enthusiasm and it'll never leave me. like, shit, getting dubs of my comix? fucking insane.

dk has been rly important to me for a rly long time. i became a fan of it over a decade ago. ive talked on da blog before about why i like em so much... so i'll just say here that i also don't rlly think these guys will ever leave me either. i think they were kinda a permanent mark on my development as a person. u can put me so so far away from hs & i'd still express that fondness for em deep down. they're a rlly great duo & i can't say at all that this decision is due to a lack of interest. love u dk <3.

for now i'm just gonna leave the blog as is, but in the future it may become p-word protected, who know... i'm not a fan of creating lost media since archiving obscure shit is a hobby of mine, so... we will "C"...

i'll still be hovering around over at @cgtg. i rlly like doing pwyw requests over there so i can flex my mspaint muscles and give u guys fun stuff. currently those are closed, but yea if ur interested you can drop a follow there & i'll say when they're open. no pressure to run over there tho. i understand that plenty were here for the dk's and i get that.

i might not be leaving this blog alone for good, & i think that's worth stating. who knows what will happen in da future? we're here right now & i'm very glad to have been here *until* now.

pls always have fun, do what you want forever, be kind, & take care. remember above all that youtube is where the poop is.

thanks for hanging out with me. love u all.

-randy tgcg 🙂

[monster-disaster]

For monsters would robots or mechs be considered under the umbrella? If so I'd love to see one of those

robot!2000 x human!Reader Good to know: smut, filming

A/N: I'm not sure they count as monsters, but we don't care about it here, so here it is:

-

"Are you sure it won't hurt me?"

"It'll be fine, Y/N," the director says, holding up a sleek, black remote. A tiny red light blinks at its center. "See? I can turn it off anytime. You've got nothing to worry about."

His words don’t entirely soothe the flutter of nerves tightening in your stomach, but you decide to let it slide. Instead, you take a steadying breath and let your gaze drift to the set. They've dressed it as a bedroom this time, with warm, earthy tones and fabrics that seem to glow under the studio lights. A plush comforter and layers of silky throws drape over the bed in the center. Their textures and hues are softened by the bright glow. It’s familiar and ordinary, yet there’s one aspect that pulls your gaze: the robot. Perched at the edge of the bed, it sits still and silent. Its steel-blue body catches the light in sharp reflections. Its hard lines and edges define a shape that’s more machine than man. Where eyes should be, two glassy lenses stare blankly ahead, they are more like headlights than anything else. There's no nose, no lips, just a featureless mask of metal. The craftsmanship is impressive, each seam welded with care, every surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, but despite the quality, it’s still unlike anything you’ve worked with before.

"It’s just a trial run, Y/N," the director assures you, a touch of seriousness entering his voice. He knows you are hesitating. "And remember, we can stop at any moment. You are in control."

"Yeah," you reply with a sigh. There's still a thread of doubt in your mind, but a spark of curiosity flickers to life as well. How would this even work? What would it feel like? Your imagination spirals through possibilities that feel both thrilling and unsettling.

“Think of it as a high-tech vibrator with some... extras," someone quips from the crew, breaking the tension. You let out a huff of laugh at the absurdity of it all but still feel yourself relax a little. Looking at it now, cold and mechanical, it’s actually easier to imagine it as an oversized toy than a person.

"Alright, let's begin," you finally say, shrugging the soft robe off your shoulders and letting it pool at your feet. Bare and exposed, you cross the set with slow, deliberate steps.

Though you've been on sets like this many times before, it feels strangely unfamiliar now. There’s an odd hollowness to the room; you’re acutely aware of being alone in front of the cameras. Each lens is trained intently on you, capturing your every movement. Before, there was always someone by your side to share the stage with.

But now, it’s just you and… it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you can’t help but glance back and forth between the crew behind the lights and the motionless hulk of metal before you. It sits there, rigid and silent. You feel its presence but can’t shake how empty it seems.

After a moment, you call out, "What should I do?" You squint toward the lights, knowing the director is there, though you can’t make him out through the brightness.

"Get to know it better," he replies smoothly, his tone both encouraging and calm. "I won’t turn it on until you say so."

"Does it have a name?" you ask, stepping closer until your leg brushes his knees. It's cold against your skin.

"Two Thousand, for short."

"Still a mouthful," you mutter, earning a snort from somewhere off-set, and you roll your eyes with a chuckle of your own.

Turning your attention back to the robot, you take a cautious step forward, positioning yourself between its legs. The metal frame looms over you, so still that it feels both fragile and imposing. You shuffle carefully, aware of every inch of space, worried that a single misstep might send it toppling.

"Okay, 2K," you murmur, almost to yourself. Standing there, bare under the watchful eyes of the cameras, you feel a strange vulnerability with something that doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

The lights catch the robot’s exterior, highlighting its metallic shell in shifting hues of steel and blue. With a slight tremble, you reach out, fingers brushing its cold face, feeling the smoothness of its mask-like surface. It doesn’t give under your touch; no warmth, no softness. Your fingertips trace along the hard lines and rigid contours, searching for something familiar, something human, or monster, that isn't there. Each feature is crafted with an almost unsettling precision, as though whoever designed it aimed to capture a form but left out the essence. One of your hands trails down from the robot’s face to touch its shoulder, feeling the ridges and seams where each piece of the outer shell connects.

"Alright, 2K," you whisper, inching closer. Your fingers explore further down, testing how it might feel to embrace this odd, unyielding body. Its chest is solid, a sleek, polished surface that feels strangely impersonal, and yet… as your hands slide over its torso, you can sense the immense complexity beneath the exterior, the intricate network of wires and mechanisms that make it tick. A part of you wants to press your ear to its chest, to see if you can hear something, a hum, a pulse, anything that might hint at life within this shell, but you know you would find nothing.

"I'm ready," you murmur, glancing up at the cameras and bright lamps surrounding you. The weight of their gaze feels heavier now as if just remembering that you are not alone. At least, not entirely. You give a small nod toward the lights. "You can turn it on."

A moment passes, and you catch a slight flicker behind the robot's eyes as the director presses a button on the remote. The room holds its breath, the silence thickening as you watch the lifeless machine come to life.

Slowly, there’s a shift. The machine’s joints emit a faint whirring sound as it adjusts its stance, trying to seem relaxed and comfortable. The blue lights in its eyes brighten, and its head lifts a little. Though you can't be sure, it feels like its unblinking gaze is fixed on you with a weight that wasn't there a moment ago. It’s subtle, but there’s a presence now, an awareness that sends a ripple through the air.

“Hello, 2K,” you say. Your voice is softer now, almost like a whisper. You reach out again, feeling the same cold metal under your fingertips, but this time, it’s as if the machine acknowledges your touch, its head tilting slightly in response.

"It can't speak yet," the director interjects, cutting through the charged atmosphere. "It can understand what you say, but we still need some programming before it's finished."

You nod, absorbing this information. "And what should we do?" Your voice is steady but laced with uncertainty. In any other filming scenario, you could rely on the other actor to take the lead, to help you navigate the scene if you feel lost, but right now, the only companion you have is the robot who merely sits on the bed, staring at you silently.

The director clears his throat, his gaze shifting from the monitor back to you. "Just engage with it. Think of it as a scene with a living character."

You nod slowly, but when you’re sure the cameras can’t capture your expression, you can’t help but grimace. It’s definitely easier said than done. The concept of treating this cold, unfeeling machine as if it were alive feels impossible.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing in your veins. "Okay, 2K," you sigh again with a hint of determination in your voice. “Help me make this interesting.”

Your words seem to reach deeper than you thought they would because the next second, its, no, it doesn’t feel right anymore, his hands lift from his hard thighs, palms smoothing over your hips with a surprising gentleness.

"Oh," you gasp, taken aback by the shock and coldness of his touch.

“Told you it can understand you,” the director says with a hint of laughter dancing in his voice.

You blink, trying to process what just happened. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

The robot’s hands remain on your hips, steady and firm, yet the way they linger carries a strange tenderness. The cool metal against your skin becomes a focal point, heightening your senses, and making the world around you fade away just a little.

“Let’s see where this goes,” you say. “So, what now? Do you have a plan, or are we just improvising?” You mean it as a joke, but the robot reacts anyway.

The whirring sound grows louder, a mechanical hum resonating through the air as his grip on your hip tightens just enough to pull you onto his lap. Another shocked gasp escapes your lips as you feel the hard edges of his frame press against your own soft thighs. The contrast is startling yet strangely thrilling.

"We have to do something with the sound," some murmurs in the background.

Your hands instinctively find their place on his wide shoulders, fingers curling into the smooth surface of his metallic body. The way he holds you is surprisingly secure, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he’s navigating the balance between strength and caution.

“Okay, 2K,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, a playful challenge underlying your tone. “What’s your next move?”

His hand from your side slips up to your breast, gently exploring the softness of your flesh in his cold grip. The contrast of his metallic touch against your skin sends a ripple of sensation through you, hardening your nipple instantly. You hold your breath, the moment feeling both intimate and surreal as his fingertips glide over the underside, tracing the outline in careful exploration.

“Oh,” you murmur with a hint of chuckle. “You’re definitely more curious than I expected.”

You lean into him more, allowing yourself to embrace the moment. “Show me what you’ve got,” you say playfully.

Your heart races with anticipation, but his response is immediate. You feel his grip shift slightly, adjusting his hold around you so you sink more against him.

“What do you think of this?” you ask, cupping your breasts and pressing them together in a way that angles them for the cameras, ensuring they catch the moment. “Do you like it?” You try to shake off the awkwardness that comes from the robot’s silence, the lack of an audible answer hanging in the air tensely. Instead of words, 2K reaches out again. His movements are smooth and deliberate. His thumbs glide over your skin, brushing against your nipples. The coolness of his metal touch contrasts sharply with the warmth of your body.

“Wow,” you breathe out, caught off guard by how responsive he is, despite his silence. His exploration feels almost intimate as if he’s not just following instructions but genuinely interacting with you. You instinctively arch toward him, craving more of his curious touch.

The cameras continue to roll, capturing every word and every movement, but the watchful eyes are slipped to the back of your mind by now.

“Let’s move on,” the director says quietly. His voice cut through the haze of your focus. As usual, you want to follow his instruction without hesitation, but as you glance down between your bodies, you find… nothing. Your eyes widen in recognition, and confusion washes over you.

“Where- where is his dick?” you stammer, looking up at the bright lights as if they might offer some explanation for the sudden gap in your understanding, but before anyone can reply, the 2K reacts. With a smooth mechanical grace and a whirring sound, the plates beneath the sleek metal of its abdomen slide apart. His cock emerges, firm and gleaming. It juts out between your bodies, stealing your breath away for several seconds.

"This guy is full of surprises, isn't it?" You ask, almost laughing.

The director hums with a chuckle. "I believe you know what you have to do from now on."

A few silent seconds stretch out before you finally speak up again. “But how does it work? Does he need to consent? I mean-"

“Y/N, it’s a robot... he’s really just a giant vibrator."

“Yeah, but-" The longer you look at him, the more difficult it becomes to see him as just a hunk of metal, especially when his smooth, mechanical hands start to caress your bare skin. He draws delicate circles on your sides, the touch sending shivers up your spine, and gently pulls at your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to elicit a gasp from your lips. Each calculated movement blurs the lines between machine and human, igniting a flicker of warmth within you that makes it impossible to ignore the growing excitement.

"I think we can call it consent," somebody says in the background with a touch of surprise in his voice when the robot grips your hips firmly, lifting you slightly off his lap just enough to glide his cock across your damp folds. The cold touch on your heated center sends a ripple over your spine and your hands tighten on his shoulders with anticipation. You feel weightless in his strong grasp as he effortlessly supports your body, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to ease you down onto his length. Each inch of him stretches you, testing your limits, and you can’t help but feel grateful for the preparation you did before filming. He slips inside you with surprising ease, filling you completely until every inch of his erection is enveloped within you. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you wiggle against him, seeking friction and fueled by a surge of curiosity. The coolness of his metallic form contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from your center, creating a tantalizing sensation that dances between discomfort and pleasure.

"I want a close-up," the director says to someone.

As you adjust to the fullness, your body instinctively reacts, contracting around him, eager for more. With each subtle shift of your hips, your breath hitches in your throat. The robot responds to your movements, adapting to your rhythm with uncanny precision. His hands remain firmly on your hips, guiding you gently as you rock against him, drawing out moans that echo in the quiet room.

You can sense the curiosity of those watching, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. It's new to them too.

You lean back slightly, arching your back for the camera as 2K's shaft glides in and out of you. Each thrust pushes you higher, and you can feel the pulse of desire building within you, throbbing and urging for more. You feel every subtle shift, every thrust, as he adapts to your movements. His body responds seamlessly to your desires. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you so completely, sends waves of pleasure radiating through your entire being. You feel like a raw nerve, perched on his lap with his arms around you, holding you and guiding you up and down on his cock. You rock your hips against him, half-delirious, seeking that perfect angle that sends your pleasure soaring. You feel him respond once again, adjusting his hold around you as his movements become more urgent, more insistent. He matches your rhythm, driving deeper into your bouncing heat.

In the back of your mind, you are still aware of the cameras filming you, and you try to do what you usually do for the right angles and records, but every fiber within you urges you to be selfish and chase your pleasure.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan as you feel the tension coiling tightly in your abdomen. Your breaths come in quick, shallow gasps, mingling with the soft, whirring sounds of the robot. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a blend of raw human desire and robotic precision for your pleasure.

You grip his shoulders tighter. Your nails scratch over the smooth, metal surface. “I’m close,” you croak out. Urgency laces your voice, but before you can finish the sentence, something shifts. A high-pitched moan escapes your lips as you jolt on his length. The moment the robot's cock begins to vibrate, the world around you blurs, and all thought evaporates in your foggy mind.

The vibrations travel through you like a current, sending shockwaves of pleasure from your core. Each pulse ignites your senses, overwhelming you in the best possible way. Instinctively, you arch your back more, pressing down on him harder. The metal surface of his erection, once cool, now feels alive against your heated walls. The rhythmic buzz amplifies every movement, and with each thrust, you swear you can feel the vibration in your pussy on the tip of your fingers too.

You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips in a maddening rhythm. It feels as if the entire world has narrowed down to this one electrifying moment. Your breaths come faster, more desperate, each gasp mingling with the mechanical hum of the robot.

You are teetering on the edge, and then, with one final surge of vibrations and powerful thrusts, you feel it. Your body trembles as the pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and blissfully adrift in your climax.

As your mind clears enough for you to lift your head from the robot’s shoulder, you gaze up at the director, noticing that the lights have dimmed slightly, casting a softer glow over the room. “How was it?” you ask breathlessly, still suspended in the remains of your incredible release. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around his rigid cock, instinctively trying to milk something more, craving that sweet sensation once again.

The man watching from his seat smirks with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I think it will work.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

pieces of us both under every city light

katsuki bakugou x reader

katsuki follows all-might’s footsteps and studies abroad in america, leaving you in the winter night alone. long distance angst/comfort, for the yail series 🫧

have a warm winter 5sos nation ❄️ inspired by beside you

within a minute, he was all packed up, his ticket to another world tucked in his pockets, your scarf around his neck.

he doesn't wanna go.

but lord knows how much this trip has costed him. 8 months ago, he would have left without question. he'd have trusted his apartment to eijirou, taken a taxi to the airport and left. but now, things are different. someone is different.

"do you have everything?" your voice cuts through the silence. katsuki turns around, committing all your details to memory as if its the last time. it'll be the last time for a few months, after all.

"yeah, yeah, mom." he huffs, showing you all his suitcases. he's being a dick because he's sad- you know him well enough to read between his lines.

he walks up to you, hands on your waist and forehead against yours. his cologne wafts to your face, while his eyes land on the black fabric of your t-shirt. well, its his t-shirt, but what's his is yours, too.

"text me as soon as you land." you say, hands on his chest. "and don't be such an asshole. people there have your attitude, as well."

he laughs, a small smile curving on his lips while his arms rub your sides up and down. "yeah? everyone's like me? maybe i'll like it then."

"i highly doubt that." you smile.

theres a moment of silence that washes over both of you. silent words are hard to speak, especially when you're all he sees. you make him weak. you're the one thing that can shut him up. and he loves you for it.

"you gonna be okay here?" he asks for maybe the 30th time. your name hasn't been added to the lease, but in his mind, you've moved in. your laundry mixes with his. your beg him for cats that can share the bed with you, even when he religiously says no. he cooks and you wash the dishes. all the things that count are there.

"i'll be fine, kats." you say. i'll miss you. i'll wear your hoodies every night.

you hold back.

"i know, i know you'll be" he says. i miss you more than i want to admit. i don't ever wanna leave you, not even for some trip.

words he doesn't say.

"don't burn my apartment down." he adds. "and don't order in every night just cause i'm not here to cook."

"my cooking isn't that bad, katsuki." you say. "i burned your coffee like, once."

"how the hell do you burn coffee?" he scoffs. "only you could manage that, dumbass."

"yeah yeah, i love you."

"i love you, too."

you're both delaying the inevitable. the banter keeps up, even on the drive to the airport. for a moment, things seem normal, like just some trip to the groceries or to pick up your medication. normal, mundane things that katsuki made feel like 5-star dates. anything can be romantic if its with the right person.

finally, its time to say goodbye. you help him with his luggage, taking in the ambience of the airport. love is felt most when its leaving. even if its for a moment.

"its 2 months." you sigh, more for you than for him.

"i'll miss you, smartass." he says, with zero traces of anything superficial. he prays you don't see his red eyes. he's holding back tears.

you don't notice the tears, because you're too focused on holding back your own. "i'll miss you more."

so with one final kiss and hug, he leaves. so close, yet so far away.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

1 month in.

winter hits hard, snow blazing down, blanketing the streets in cold, ivory petals. winter takes everything down with it, frosting over and obscuring any traces of fall, spring, or autumn. but for all its coldness, there's an undeniable tenderness. everyone stayed in during winter, so you wouldn't look out of place for staying in your bed, wrapped up in clothes that smell like katsuki.

the apartment just didn't feel right without him. there's the obvious things- hanging only your clothes to dry, cooking dinner for one and washing one plate, letting the apartment fall silent. katsuki never liked silence. and though you never minded it before him, you keep the radio on- its what he would want.

you sleep alone. and more than anything, you want your heart to come home. but that can't happen so long as he's miles away from you.

you've told yourself not to call. at first, you two spent everyday on the phone. then maybe once or twice a week. now, katsuki's missed just one of your calls, and now you can't bring yourself to answer his. you don't want to hear his voice and know he's somewhere you can't see him.

the cold seeps in from your fingertips and into your bones. all your stimulus, dreams, and love, frosted over by the winter chill. maybe it froze your tears- you were tired of crying, anyway.

your homesick for arms that won't be home for another month. he never leaves your mind, not even when theres a million things to be done. you have to take out the trash. theres dishes in the sink you haven't touched in a few days. you need to shovel, but thats something katsuki would usually do.

either the heater's broken or katsuki's presence decided to really, really make itself known tonight. either way, you curl up in bed, debating on whether or not to call him. texts work, too. though its hard to type with your fingertips shaking.

you miss him dearly. you wish the winter wind would finally give in, bringing him back to you. you're underneath the same sky, finding solace underneath the same sun. this isn't forever. he will be home. yet, you still wish you could rewind. you wonder if he can hear you, hear your longing.

shaky, cold fingers type out a single message, first. then another. then another.

y/n: i miss you

y/n: ik i've said it like a million times i sound like a broken record

y/n: and i've told u im doing okay but i'm not

y/n: i really fucking miss you kats

y/n: im so tired of sleeping alone, i just wish u could come home right now. and i feel bad for saying that cuz ik you're having fun and i love that for you. i just miss you and i can't help it.

y/n: i'm tryna find the words to say but i dont know

y/n: i just wish i was beside you.

that familiar, blurry feeling takes over your eyes. a few minutes pass before he sees your messages. he doesn't respond as the tears finally fill your eyes.

you turn off your phone, place it on the bedside, and close your eyes.

exactly 5 seconds later, your phone rings.

its almost pathetic how fast you pick up, pressing it to your ear, not caring how cold it feels due to the air around you.

you don't say anything at first. you can't.

"...you don't think i miss you too?"

you almost scoff. "yes, i mean, no, i mean.. sorry." you stutter.

you hear him sigh, that shake in his throat you know all too well. even when you can't see him, he's trying not to cry.

like your hearts beat at the same time, he knows how you feel. because he's feeling the same, sinking down onto the couch of his air-bnb. he's had a shitty day, running into american fans whose obsession with japan is almost a little funny. he's worked hard, training and being better, but its not the same when you're not waiting for him at home.

his heart wants to come home.

"i wish i was beside you." his voice cracks. "god, more than anything, y/n. its like i see you everywhere, but you aren't actually here. its pissing me off."

"oh yeah?" you laugh. god, what he would give to hear that in person.

"yeah, idiot. i saw some stray cats chasing around a damn rat and thought of you." he recalls.

"yeah, i don't know if i miss you as much if you think i'm comparable to stray cats." you disagree, shaking your head. he may say stupid things, but you're just happy its his voice.

"not what i meant, smartass." he scoffs. "i meant... it made me think how you always wanted cats. we should get some, when i get back."

its that promise you linger on. when he gets back.

"yeah... we should." you smile, sniffling back some tears.

the fact that you're crying doesn't go unnoticed by him, mostly 'cause he's crying, too.

theres pieces of you both, under every city light, whether thats in the states or in japan. either way, he feels you, and you feel him. for now, he can survive on the wishing- on the photos of you on his phone, on your scarf around his neck, on the fingerprints left on his heart. all until he can be beside you again.

"its late there." he says, though he can't bring himself to end the call. you bite your lip, hoping he doesn't.

he sighs, closing his eyes after looking at the photo of you in his wallet. "do you want me to stay on the li-"

"yes." you cut him off. you can hear him smile.

it'll work until he can hold you again, until he's beside you again.

[caelivir]

mistletoes w oliver aiku! ♡

i hope everyone is having a wonderful and joy filled winter/holiday season!!

“you do realize that the party’s inside, right?”

you turn your head to look behind your shoulder, offering a weak grin at the presence of the person who joined you on the balcony. “hi oliver.” you greet, more quiet than enthusiastic.

“well don’t get too excited now.” oliver chuckles, joining you at the black railing that bars from accidental falls. he’s awfully close. his arm brushing against yours, dual-colored eyes staring at you intently. you don’t hate this, but you pray oliver can’t hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears. “what’s up?”

for a moment, you cast your gaze up, humming as you think, wondering if there’s anything worth telling him. “noth-” you begin.

and then you see it. hanging above both you and oliver are green leaves with red berries, tied together by a pretty white bow—a freaking mistletoe.

your gaze snaps down; the reaction is too sudden, too sharp, and oliver furrows his brows at your newfound panic. his gaze finds focus in where your eyes last lay, and it clicks for him.

oliver is unable to hold back his hearty laugh at your flustered expression. the situation itself is beyond embarrassing. you wonder if it’s possible to sink into the ground and never come back.

“this is not happening.” you mumble, your palm a barrier between the coherency of your words.

“ouch, babe.” oliver feigns a wince. he places hand over his heart in offense.

“i didn’t mean-”

“i’m kiddin’.” he clarifies, amused. “i know you didn’t.”

you purse your lips. “i think i’ll just head back inside.”

oliver gently grabs your wrist as you start to leave. it’s electric, humming soundly throughout your nerves. “woah, woah, woah, are you tryin’ to curse us with bad luck?”

“didn’t take you to be the superstitious type, oliver.” you raise a curious brow at him.

he smirks, winking at you. his charm nearly makes your knees give out. “i take my mistletoes very seriously.”

“somehow i don’t doubt that.”

“what? i never pass up on holiday traditions.” he shrugs, lazy grin raising the apples of his cheeks. his heterochromatic irises pour into yours.

“i don’t either.” you agree, but you point at the mistletoe above you. “but this one i don’t do.”

“why not?” oliver’s thumb runs gentle patterns near your pulse. your breath hitches, stuck in your throat.

“i don’t want people to feel like they’re forced into it. that’s all.”

“i want to though.”

“oliver, they are literally just leaves. we don’t have to-”

“is this you saying you don’t wanna kiss me?” oliver tilts his head, baiting you. you spot the glimmer of tease in his gaze.

“don’t put words in my mouth.” you huff.

“so you do want to kiss me then.”

“i didn’t say that either!”

"(y/n), you’re gonna break my heart with these mixed signals-"

"god, okay. i get it." you roll your eyes, fed up with his antics.

you fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him by it until the space between you two is reduced to nothing, and your lips press onto his. you feel oliver's cocky smile just before he melts into you.

he's gentle with you. his calloused hand finds solace on your cheek, the other drops your wrist to place itself gently upon your waist. the stubble on his chin tickles your skin.

oliver tastes oddly sweet, milky even. your curiosity of it forces you to pull away despite the sparks dancing on your lips. you run your tongue on the lingering remnants of the delicacy. "is that hot chocolate?"

"don't know." oliver shrugs, his hands still on you like they're meant to be there. you can immediately sense that he's lying through his poorly hidden smirk.

you throw him a dubious glance. "i'm pretty sure it is."

you would be right. it is hot chocolate. it's a special recipe that oliver mastered from his grandma in sweden. he already has a mug of it ready for you on the counter. he thinks it'll go cold by the time he decides he’s satisfied with kissing you.

"but it might not be. i think i need another taste." he sighs, already leaning in.

"isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" you question teasingly, a grin pulling your cheeks upward.

"you focus on details too much." oliver mumbles, his nose brushing against yours. he locks your lips together, and this time you can taste whipped cream.

[aventurineswife]

hi i hope you're doing well 💌 before requesting anything i wanted to tell you i really like your writing and i ADMIRE the way you manage to write so quickly ! efficient and qualitative *chef's kiss*

so i wanted to ask you if it was possible to have your thoughts about what would make aventurine and sunday (and any characters you like) flustered, blush or shy !

sorry if you already have written for it, you can just delete this ask 😅 thank you for all of your works 🤗

HII HEHE!! THANK YOU SO MUCHHH AND FOR YOUR KIND WORDSS!! 🤭💖

I hope you like this! Remember, this is just my opinion on these boys!!

Given Aventurine's vanity and the care he takes in his stylish appearance, an unexpected compliment—especially one that touches on his luxurious attire, hair, or enigmatic aura—would catch him off guard. His usual charismatic facade might falter for a second, and he could brush it off with a playful laugh, though the faint blush spreading across his cheeks would betray his flustered state.

"You look... remarkably dashing today, Aventurine."

He'd tilt his head, raising an eyebrow and chuckling, but there's a subtle heat to his cheeks as he adjusts his collar or twirls a ring. "Flattery will get you everywhere... but I can't promise it'll win you the game."

Aventurine is so used to manipulating situations and masking his emotions that hearing someone speak to him with raw honesty—especially about emotions or vulnerabilities—would make him shy away from confronting his own feelings. His usual facade would crack, and he’d likely try to change the subject or deflect, his nervousness hidden behind a confident, but somewhat forced, smile.

"I... I don’t want to be alone. Not like this."

He’d hesitate, his typical bravado giving way to a flash of vulnerability. His face would momentarily betray the depth of his unease, and he’d look away, trying to mask his discomfort with a playful remark.

Despite his outward confidence and charm, Aventurine tends to shy away from close physical contact—especially if it’s unexpected. A brush of fingers or a light touch on the arm might cause him to freeze for a moment, his calm demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation.

A simple touch on his arm could make him flinch, then grin awkwardly, trying to cover it up with a chuckle. “Was that really necessary?”

Sunday’s stoic, idealistic nature can often mask his deeper need for affection and emotional connection. If someone were to show genuine care for him—perhaps a small act like holding his hand, gently resting their head on his shoulder, or giving him a tender smile—his ethereal, otherworldly composure would crack, and a soft blush would color his cheeks.

"Thank you for being here... I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."

Sunday might stiffen for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a faint, shy smile forms on his lips. The sight of it would be fleeting but deeply genuine, his wings fluttering nervously as he tries to collect himself.

Sunday is not accustomed to emotional intimacy, especially in a romantic sense. So, when someone expresses genuine affection or admiration for him, he’d likely get flustered and shy, his words faltering as he tries to respond without letting his vulnerability show too much.

"I care about you... more than I ever realized."

His wings might twitch, and his gaze would drop momentarily, a quiet blush creeping onto his face. He might stammer, trying to regain control of the conversation, his voice soft and uncertain. "I... I am not sure I deserve such kindness."

Sunday deeply believes in the collective good and can be hesitant to accept personal praise for it. If someone acknowledged his idealism or how his actions have positively affected others, he would be touched but also embarrassed. His self-doubt and humility would shine through, causing him to become shy or flustered.

"The way you’ve changed things... it's beautiful."

He would gaze at the person with wide eyes, caught off-guard. A faint blush would stain his cheeks as he awkwardly brushed the compliment aside, his wings folding in slightly to shield himself from the intensity of the praise. "It... it was a collective effort. I'm just part of a bigger whole."

[luxaofhesperides]

puddle

Your writing is amazing btw

Danny is usually fine with the cold. He's got an ice core, he's practically made for the cold. But Gotham autumn cold is another monster, especially when it comes with so much rain.

The city is constantly damp and dreary, switching between sprinkling on and off to a heavy deluge of rain.

Listen, he can handle the cold but not the cold and wet. That's just asking for too much.

He says as much to Duke over the phone, peering out from under the awning of the theater he's trapped at, hoping the rain will let up soon. It hadn't been raining when he left the apartment earlier to watch a movie, killing time until Jazz got back from her internship with Gotham's social services, so Danny had been caught totally unprepared when he stepped outside and got hit with a spray of rain as a bus drove past.

Duke laughs at him, his voice carrying a little static over the phone, and Danny pouts. No point in hiding it when no one's around to see it.

"How have you not learned to always carry an umbrella with you by now?" Duke asks, amusement coloring his voice. "Hasn't it already been a year since you moved here?"

Danny pouts and stares out into the heavy sheets of rain coming down just a few feet in front of him. "I was running late to the showing so I didn't check the weather! And it was almost nice out earlier so I thought it would be fine."

"Alright, new question: how have you not learned to stop trusting Gotham's weather? If it's good, then it'll get worse. If it's bad, it'll stay bad. That's how it is."

"This city is out to get me," Danny complains. "If I get sick because of this rain, just leave me to die."

"You're so dramatic," Duke says fondly.

"You would be too, if you were stuck out here." He takes a step to stand just beneath the edge of the awning and peers up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds hang above the city, hiding the sky from horizon to horizon. The wind isn't strong today, which means the clouds are barely moving. No doubt the lower streets have already begun to flood, water rising as storm drains struggle to keep up with the heavy rain. He sighs and reaches back to draw his hood up to cover his head. "I think I'm just gonna have to make a run for it."

Noise erupts from Duke's end of the call; rustling, doors slamming, metal moving. "Wait, stay where you are! You're at Harbor Theater, right?"

"Yeah."

"Give me like ten minutes. Don't move!" And then the call ends without another word, leaving Danny to blink out at the rain, confused. He pulls his phone away from his ear, stares down at the screen where "Call ended" stares back up at him, and shrugs.

Sure. Okay. This might as well happen.

He retreats back to the door, more protected from the rain, and leans against the brick wall of the building to wait. It's only ten minutes, and he's not in a rush to do anything else today, so he can wait. As long as he stays mostly dry, he'll be fine.

Despite his many complaints about the rain, Danny does enjoy Gotham storms. They're quiet and steady, with only the really big storms carrying thunder into the city. The storms in Amity Park were always loud, with howling winds and earthshaking thunder, lightning flashing nonstop until it was over. Compared to that, Gotham rain is peaceful; the steady patter of raindrops against windows is soothing and has made him fall asleep more than once. As long as he's safe and warm inside, he likes the rain.

As it is, when he's outside and stuck hiding beneath an awning, he very much does not like the rain.

The street is mostly empty as everyone with common sense is inside where it's dry. A few cars pass by, driving fast despite how hard it must be to see, and send water splashing towards him. He's just outside the splash zone, thankfully, but that doesn't stop him from glaring and muttering curses to those drivers.

Danny sighs again and closes his eyes, hoping to make the time pass by faster if he makes his mind drift.

It doesn't feel like it's been ten minutes when he hears Duke call his name. It barely even feels like five. Danny opens his eyes and pushes off the wall, looking down the street where he can see a bright yellow umbrella moving up and down as Duke runs through the rain to meet him. Did he really run all this way, just to get Danny an umbrella? That's really sweet. Danny bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too much like some kind of lovesick fool.

Which he is, to be fair, but he doesn't need to show that.

"Dude," he says when Duke reaches him, stumbling to a stop under the awning to catch his breath. "Did you seriously run from your place to here? Don't you live on the other side of Gotham?"

Duke shakes his head and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I was nearby," he says, gesturing vaguely behind him, "Don't worry about it. You heading back home?"

"That was the plan, yeah."

"I'll walk you then. C'mon."

Duke offers his elbow as though escorting Danny to the ball. Danny takes it, stepping beneath the umbrella, so cheerfully yellow it almost feels aggressive. "My hero," he teases. "My knight under yellow umbrella."

"Listen, it was the only one I had that wasn't broken and it was a joke gift from a friend."

"A joke gift?"

"It's a Signal umbrella. Look at the handle."

Danny looks. The curve of the handle ends in a bat symbol. "That's amazing," he says, biting back a laugh as they step out into the rain. The umbrella protects them, but he can see that both their shoulders are getting wet; it's hard to fit two bodies beneath one umbrella. He pulls at Duke's arm, tugging him closer, so they can both fit more securely under the umbrella, walking arm in arm down the street.

It would have been nearly perfect if it wasn't for the fact that the streets were full of rainwater and a step into a puddle too big to avoid leaves his shoes and socks wet.

"Aw, man," he groans, frowning at his shoes. "I just can't win today."

"You used up all your good luck calling me," Duke jokes.

"Worth it, if it gets me you," Danny says without thinking. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and regrets because flirting with Duke has become a habit when they became friends, and it's a dangerous habit know that Danny's figured out his massive crush on Duke.

"Sweet talker," Duke retaliates. He's unfazed, carrying on normally, so Danny relaxes. As long as he can keep his crush quiet alongside his many other secrets, he's fine.

Leaning into him a little more, Danny ducks his head to hide a smile as they keep walking. Under one umbrella, together under the sheets of rain, it feels like there's no one else in the world but them.

Maybe there is something to enjoy about rainy autumn days.

Even if it ends with him walking home in waterlogged socks.

[cloudyskydreams]

Confessing headcanons UT,UF,US!

This is not my favorite so far. Oh well though my internets spotty and I wanted to get something out while I know I have some. Reds is by far my favorite I love him sm. As always hope you enjoy!

Undertale:

Sans:

It'd have to be you confessing. Sans has his insecurities and doubts and they would hold him back from confessing. He might make hints more known like more flirty jokes than normal and he's a bit more protective of you but he won't outright confess when crushing. If he does it's accidental and happens because he got too comfortable. He probably whispered it or said it too quite to hear all the way and you have to ask him to repeat himself. Que a joke while sweating.

If confessed to: He's a little shocked, are you…sure? He doesn't know what to say all jokes he's ever learned slip out the holes in his skull lost to the void. You probably have to break the silence by repeating yourself or assuring him you mean it and he tears up slightly. He never expected you'd actually like him back he's a little overwhelmed just let him ride it out and you can cuddle and kiss his tears away afterwards.

Papyrus:

Very likely to confess first. He's a straightforward man he knows he's got feelings he's gonna share them! He plans it all out and definitely looks up a wikiHow or some other manual on the perfect date just because it helps him feel better prepared. He'd wait till a lull in the activities to confess maybe after dinner or after a movie. He's nervously waiting for your response but he's just happy he finally let you know how much he truly cares for you.

If confessed to: He's overjoyed!! He'll reciprocate and give you a big hug maybe a smooch on the cheek. He basically sweeps you away and says you have to celebrate with a date. He definitely takes a picture to celebrate this man scrapbooks.

Underfell:

Red:

This dude confessing? Yeah right he believes he has absolutely zero chance with anyone and feels like that would be setting himself up for the ultimate failure. He's happy to live with his delusions and daydreams thank you very much. That doesn't stop accidents from happening and he might have said something a little too sweet about you. Something about how much he loves your laugh or something about your smile or eyes. He's sweating hoping you didn't catch it. He might even teleport out if your reaction is big enough.

If being confessed to: He's actually a little angry and defensive at first. He thinks you're playing a prank on him he doesn't understand. Out of everyone why him he's a piece of shit, pervert, couldn't raise his brother right, can't do anything right… He starts spiraling. Reassure him maybe with some light physical touch it'll help ground him. He'll calm down and play it off but keep showing you're interested and he'll come around.

Edge:

Hes pretty straightforward with it all. He thinks that's the best way to get it done. He invites you over for a home cooked meal because why settle for less than the best when he's trying to impress someone. Not that he should have to try to impress you he naturally does he reminds himself to ease his anxiety. He's definitely not extremely anxious over this whole thing. He presents the meal to you and takes compliments in pride they also help soothe this anxiety. Once the meals over he'll confess offering you your favorite flowers. He's blushing a carmine red and is struggling to maintain eye contact.

If confessed to: Takes it in stride. Of course you would have affections for someone as great and terrible as him. He's blushing and screaming internally but don't point out the blush or he'll deny it and sweep you away. He declares since you're in a relationship it's important you stay by his side so other monsters know not to mess with you. He likes feeling like he's protecting you even if it's just being in your company.

Underswap:

Stretch:

He's worked himself up for this hella. He's a little nervous because if he's actually into you it's a whole nother ballpark. He's a bit of a flirt that's for sure but he's not used to anything besides flirting and lustful glances and stuff romance is something else entirely. He sets up a cute scenario maybe finds a way to play you his guitar because he's a dork and he'll stutter a bit while confessing.

If being confessed to: Is super happy and sweeps you into a hug. This takes the pressure off of him to do it and he's honestly flattered someone would confess to him. Impressed you had the balls to do what he was struggling with. He wants to celebrate with a game night at his house and he excitedly tells his brother what happened that night.

Blue:

He's got it all planned out. He asks you on a date he'll know you'll be most comfortable on and actually enjoy. Dresses up slightly and gets you one of your favorite flowers. The date goes smoothly and he confesses at the end when taking you home after telling you he had a goodnight. He hopes you'll accept and if you do you get a cheek kiss and a very happy Blue. He definitely blogs about it later on

If being confessed to: He's impressed you beat him to he, he's quick with it once he realizes you return his affections. He happily accepts and smooches your cheek while pulling you into a hug. A sleepover is a must and he invites you back home so he can cook dinner and you guys can have an at home date.

[floppnopikka]

୨⎯”STANLEY PINES DATING HEADCANONS”⎯୧

He would call you nicknames like 'sweet cheeks' 'sugar pie' 'honey crackers' 'hot stuff'

When you ever feel like you're in your lowest moments this man doesn't know what to do to comfort you BUT he will try his very best to cheer you up. In the Book of Bill, his life has been in his lowest moments and there was no one to comfort him except for his mom, Jimmy Snakes (probably) and Stanford. Taking you to dinner (his treat ofc but only because he hates seeing you all depressed) go fishing and getting a free souvenir from his Mystery Shack.

This man is STRONG, never doubt his strength, he can punch, kick, and punch again. All his fats are his muscles so if you ever have anything heavy to carry just let him do it or if you got a sprained ankle because of your clumsiness, expect this man to insult you first before carrying you like you weigh nothing, ok he might struggle BUT JUST FOR A LITTLE BIT.

Needs constant reassurance, this man has always been looked down and stepped on in his whole life only for himself to stand up again without anyone's help. If you happen to get in a relationship with him, he will ask and look at you for support and words for him to keep going. He can get a bit dependent on you but not always, he knows how to stand up for himself after decades of insults from others and your praise may seem skeptical for him but knew better than to trust your words.

This man cannot read without his glasses, if you see him without his glasses and he's trying to read something on his news paper or watching TV, you can see him squinting his eyes in a verge of closing them.

If someone harasses you or talks bad about you, this man will definitely talk shit to someone and punch them so hard they will end up in the hospital.

He's prideful and won't back down to any teasing you call him (in a playful manner) but when it's serious moments, he'll have a hard time expressing his feelings because it always turns to anger or walking out but when he does something wrong, it'll take him a few minutes to apologize because he was never one to apologize or people would just ignore his apology.

Stanley isn't a fan of those cheesy romantic things like, giving flowers, chocolates, writing poems and stuff like that. Unless it's valentine's day or your birthday, he'll ask Mabel and Dipper for help on how to greet you, set you up with him. Just because he's not that type of man doesn't mean he's not showing his love and affection for you.

When you're not around, he would fr brag you to anyone 'Have you seen Y/N? well, bad luck for you buddy, you literally missed a sight for sore eyes. Which happens to be my significant other!' and then he would laugh at the child or 'Look here buddy, Y/N is someone who's very passionate on anything they do, I mean look at them! don't you feel the raging flames of passion they're putting there?' he pointed the direction where you stood and then it's just you arguing with a karen in the grocery store while he grins lazily as he sips his soda 'Yup, very passionate'

When you two got into an argument and didn't end well, he would stay up all night thinking about it, tossing and turning on the bed with a groan. He will apologize but it's messy because he doesn't know how or it's too hard for him to do say it. "Look, I made a mistake and I... I know what I did was wrong and I just wanna say..." long pause "...m'sorry..." in the most quiet yet audible apology you'll ever hear but if that didn't budge you he'll try even more "Ok! ok! I really... am! I'm sorry, ok? what I did to you was wrong, I'll give you space if you need it and... I'm sorry, again, really" but you can't stay mad at him for long so you forgive him in an instant.

Overall, a patient and understanding partner is what he needs perhaps someone who has the same ego as him would be fun, an adventurous partner would be his cup of coffee since he is the most wanted criminal in America, you two would be partners in crime >:)

A/N: hope y'all like it, might be ooc of Stanley Pines