#free online spin class

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent. 

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin' 

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy. 

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you. 

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit. 

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit. 

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable. 

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes. 

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice. 

They don’t. 

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest. 

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him. 

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever. 

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now. 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?” 

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now. 

“Sure.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop. 

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.” 

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—” 

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?” 

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word. 

“You wanna do something for me?” 

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking. 

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.” 

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift. 

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---” 

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe. 

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you. 

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant. 

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new. 

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.” 

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place. 

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you. 

“I think you know what I mean.” 

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed. 

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.” 

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind. 

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.” 

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head. 

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.” 

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room. 

“Uh, are you talking about sex?” 

“Yep.” 

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date. 

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little. 

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug. 

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze. 

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation. 

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.” 

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation. 

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it. 

You hope he meant it. 

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless. 

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass. 

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming. 

The next day, you’re still tense. 

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts. 

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting. 

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality. 

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings. 

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight. 

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill. 

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard. 

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs. 

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting. 

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy. 

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air. 

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait. 

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something. 

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care. 

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better. 

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now. 

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss. 

“I know.” 

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body. 

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans. 

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine. 

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe. 

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time. 

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.” 

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding. 

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low. 

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush. 

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet. 

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine. 

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond. 

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.” 

“Oh, shit.” 

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?” 

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.” 

“Yes.” 

“Great.” 

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise. 

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears. 

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity. 

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?” 

“Mmm,” is all you can manage. 

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.” 

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink. 

“Gonna���ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you. 

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison. 

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up. 

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.” 

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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[starz-n-stuff]

Dc x dp headcanon/prompt idea thing! If u wanna use just tag me on here with a link if it’s ao3 or wherever else

What if the GIW controls what’s accessible on the internet? Okay so imagine that for whatever reason Tim Drake has a laptop from Danny or maybe Tucks PDA:

“Hey, Tim, you called while I was in class so now you’re on speaker and everyone can hear you.” Danny tells him quickly before he can say anything.

“Alright,” Tim doesn’t seem to care if the class is able to hear, “so the laptop is fine now, but it wasn’t letting me into some things, citing an error code that shouldn’t exist so I did some digging and Danny is there only one network provider in Amity?”

“Yeah, everyone uses it, why?”

“I think they’re controlling what is visible to you all on the internet. Because there’s no result online for Superman or, or, the Justice League, none of that.”

You could hear a pin drop in the classroom, even Lancer, who had been intending to tell Danny to hang up or take the call into the hallway was staring at Danny and the phone, spinning a pencil in his hands.

“Who… who are those people? Superman and…” Danny trails off.

“Superman is an alien from the planet Krypton. Our sun gives him powers like flight, heat vision, ice breath, and a whole lot more.” Tim explains, “and The Justice League is an organization of superhero’s dedicated to protecting Earth and its inhabitants. If they knew about Phantom or Amity, or had received any sort of distress call they would’ve sent someone over with a similar power set and helped train Phantom, since he’s a newer hero.”

It’s silent in the classroom. Nobody has anything to say.

“Can you fix it?” Danny asks, voice scratchy from the burning in the back of his eyes and throat.

So yeah— I know nothing about technology n stuff so feel free to like play around with the idea. Also did anybody else’s teachers make us answer our phones on speaker if they rang in class? Or was that just my terrible high school?

[pandorascripts]

Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.  

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Monday's are always difficult. Especially as you cling to the good vibes of a girls' night out. The mood was a bit spoiled by the presence of few unexpected bosses but Elfie and Billie kept you all on track. Still, it wasn’t enough, you’re not ready for another week. 

You might not be but you make sure Mr. Hansen is. You have everything on his desk waiting. His coffee is in a travel thermos keeping warm, his daily itinerary is ready for him, and when he gets in, you’ll go to get his breakfast so it’s hot and fresh. 

You yawn and uncrinkle a pleat in your dress skirt. The brilliant shade of green is as bright as an emerald with a trim of yellow at the collar, belt and hem. It's loud but you don’t mind a bit of boldness. 

Mr. Hansen rushes by so quickly he catches you by surprise and your barely catch sight of him over your monitor as you snap your teeth down around another yawn. He’s so quick, he’s a blur. His door shuts behind him sharply and you stand as you go rigid as a pole. Oh no, what now? 

You don’t linger to figure it out. What you know about Mr. Hansen is that it’s best to let him simmer down on his own. The time it takes you to get his organic wrap should be more than enough. You head off with your purse and a bounce in your step.  

It feels good to be moving around. If you’d sat any long, you would risk an ambush nap. You can’t imagine your boss would appreciate that. 

You get to the bistro and put in your usual order. They know you there. They have a ticket ready to ring up and you pay with the company card. You step aside and chatter with the girl at the till about her film class in college. She’s sweet and very passionate about independent movies you’ve never even heard of. 

You claim your order and the complimentary iced tea Kamila made you. You thank her extra and head out, making note to return the favour the next time you stop by. You rush back to the office building a block over and barrel into the elevator. You smile at a man from the eight floor and wait for yours to ding. 

You carry on through the ritual of readying Mr. Hansen’s breakfast. You zap it in the microwave just to make sure it’s still warm and set out the porcelain plate. You lay it out with the little side of greens and tomato salad and leave your iced tea on your desk. 

You knock on Hansen’s door. No answer comes but you know better than to let yourself in. You knock again and put your ear to the door. A third time gets you a response. 

“Fast,” he demands from the other side. 

You open the door and declare your purpose, “Breakfast, Mr. Hansen!” 

You bound over as he keeps the back of his chair to you. You can see the top of his head over it despite his efforts to hunch down. Is he hiding? You put the plate where you usually do as he angles away from you. Is it Mr. Hansen? His hair isn’t that dark... 

“Mr. Hansen, is everything okay?” You ask tenuously. Silence. You hold your breath as he doesn’t move. You gulp and take a step back. “Sir...” 

“Fine,” his hits the armrest and spins around. 

You let your breath out with a gasp. Oh god. His hair is pitch black. The box dye has that blueish tint to it and is less than complimentary to his skin tone. Not to mention he didn’t touch the mustache. You do your best to control your expression and your. 

“Oh, wow, Mr. Hansen, did you get a new tie--” 

“Shut up!” He roars, “it’s not funny.” 

“Nothing’s funny, sir, I didn’t laugh.” 

“I can see your cheek...” he wiggles his finger tersely, “don’t.” 

“Sir, really, I’m not,” you assure him, evening out that ripple in your stomach and your breath. “You know, when I was in college, I killed my hair with bleach and died it green.” 

“Yeah, because green looks so good on you,” he chirps as he scowls at your dress. 

“Thanks, sir,” you smile, “but there is a point. I hated it. I got colour remover and managed to get to a decent brown.” 

“Colour remover?” He narrows his eyes. 

“Not as harsh as bleach but it stinks like rotten eggs. I think you could probably get at least a few shades lighter. And since it’s not green, you won’t go greener. Shouldn't.” 

He shifts his glare to the wall and his forehead pinches. His nose crinkles by his nostrils and he pokes his cheek with his tongue. He clucks and shakes his head. 

“Fine, go get it.” 

“Oh, uh, me? Sir--” 

“No one else is seeing me like this so go fucking get the remover,” he rolls his chair towards the desk and snatches up the wrap, “that shade of green makes my eyes bleed.” 

You give another gentle expression. You truly pity him. You’ve been there before. He was only trying to feel better about himself. To try something new. It happens, but you’re not so sure he should trust you to fix this one. 

There’s not much of a choice. You go back out to your desk and grab your iced tea and purse. Off to the pharmacy. It's kind of fun. An unexpected adventure to keep yourself from falling asleep. It’s exactly what you need. And who knows, if you can help Mr. Hansen get the inky dye out, he might lighten up. Literally.   

[eomayas]

interruptions • dks

pairing: prof!kyungsoo x wife!reader

synopsis: two times the reader interrupts professor kyungsoo and the two times he loves it

genre: fluffyyyyy, first half is a little suggestive

warnings: none

a/n: hiiii this is kind of a filler bc i have other things to post but they’re taking too long and this was in my brain and is super short. i love kyungsoo bye

kyungsoo lifts his eyes from the test papers in front of him when the door to his office is opened. you slip inside, a tired smile on your face. “hey, baby,” his throat is scratchy from not having said anything in the last few hours. it’s timbre makes your heart flutter.

“sorry to interrupt, but it’s late,” you comment, walking over to him. kyungsoo spins around in his chair to face you and opens his legs for you to walk into. kyungsoo puts his hands on the back of your exposed thighs while your hands fall to his shoulders. “are you going to come to bed?” you ask, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“i’m still grading,” he says, sliding his hands up higher underneath your silk nightgown. kyungsoo looks up at you with wide eyes and wets his lips as he drags his eyes up your body. you raise an eyebrow at him and he leans back in chair, pulling you closer to him so you practically fall into his lap. “coming to keep me company?” he mumbles, kissing the underside of your jaw.

you situate yourself on his lap and look down at him. he glances down at your chest and you scoff lightly. “you missed your chance for the night,” you say, rolling your eyes when he sticks out his bottom lip. “too bad.” you say, kissing him on the lips. kyungsoo wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him.

he skates his free hand higher up on your leg, sliding over your smooth and underwear free hip. he stops kissing you and pulls back. “really?” he mutters, reaching for the tie of your silk robe.

“i was waiting for you,” you say, readjusting yourself on his lap. he bites his bottom lip as his member strains in his pants. “but it’s late, and we both have work in the morning.” you add, gently running a hand over his hair.

“we can be quick,” he says, pulling your robe open. you let him, liking the way he checks you out like he’s trying to commit it to memory. “damn, y/n.” he mumbles, a small smile on his face as he runs his finger tips over the hem of the nightgown. kyungsoo licks his lips again as he drags his eyes up from your heavily exposed chest, to your eyes. “i’ll be quick.” he says, almost like a promise.

you chuckle and stand up from his lap. “don’t stay up too late, soo,” you say, bending over to give him a kiss (and to let him look down your dress one more time). “goodnight, baby. i love you.” you say from the doorway, giving him a soft smile before leaving and shutting the door behind you.

“love you too,” he mutters at the door, his hand palming himself through his pants pathetically.

as calmly as possible, kyungsoo rakes through the briefcase again, pressing a hand through his forehead as all of the papers in it belong to you. in his rush this morning, he must’ve grabbed yours on his way out. it’s a rookie mistake, one he hasn’t made in years, but he’s been distracted all morning and this just proves how much. your work bags are similar, but there are notable differences like his being a zipper opening and yours being held together by buckles. his had a straps as well as a handle, and yours just a handle.

kyungsoo sighs and checks his watch, pressing his lips into a thin line as he notices he’s late to start class. “morning, everybody,” he says, clearing his throat. “sorry for the late start, i, err, grabbed my wife’s briefcase on accident.” he admits, earning a few snickers from his students.

he walks around the front of his desk and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “so i don’t have your tests with me—i know, i know. i’m already a class behind. but i posted the grades online a few minutes ago, so you should be able to see how you did. i have no lesson plan, so in the meantime, we can just chat about anything, i guess,” he says, an embarrassed blush forming on his cheeks. kyungsoos eyes scan the class of bored students who clearly want to go home. “no takers? alright, somebody catch me up on the chapter we read last night.” he says, grabbing his mug off of his desk and taking a sip of his coffee.

the class is silent and he snorts behind his cup. “im serious. if nobody answers either options, then i’ll just move the deadline for the project up a week,” kyungsoo threatens—he won’t actually do it, but he’s not going to sit here like an idiot. a few hands shoot up and he calls on the first student he sees, who reviews the reading that was assigned last night.

kyungsoo freestyles the lesson, utilizing the whiteboard way more than he typically would because of his lack of slides and lesson plan. he’s deep into lecturing when the door of the classroom opens and he snaps his head to see who it is, ready to tell whoever it is not to interrupt like that again, until he sees you trying to sneak in as quietly as possible.

a small smile stretches across his lips as you glance around at the students guiltily, feeling bad for interrupting. “sorry to interrupt,” you say to everyone, ducking your head and smiling bashfully as you make your way to the front towards your husband. “hi. you grabbed the wrong one.” you say, dropping his bag onto his desk and taking yours.

“technically, we both grabbed the wrong one,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “thank you, by the way.” he says, clasping his hand over yours. you smile at him and then remember you have an audience, and slip away from him.

“i’ll see you later,” you say, starting to walk away.

“y/n,” he says. you turn around and he raises his eyebrows at you. aren’t you forgetting something? he asks with his eyes. your cheeks tinge pink before you hop back up to him and place a chaste kiss to his lips that makes somebody in the classroom ‘aw’ at the two of you. “oh, give me a break.” kyungsoo says, squeezing your hand before saying goodbye and watching you speed walk out of the classroom. you stop at the doorway and face him, mouthing ‘i love you’ before disappearing, leaving him to mumble a ‘love you too’ to his shoes, a smile on his face.

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Late Night Reunions

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 11 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Part

You were feeling proud of yourself.

The words on the screens looked familiar to you now, and you were able to understand enough of the foreign language that you found your way through customs without having to ask for help. You pointedly avoided reading the English translations right below the Korean. It felt like cheating.

The sudden change to online classes had left you with an unexpected amount of free time since you didn’t have to show up to your university physically. It meant that in between classes you could do short Korean lessons, you could watch kdrama’s while you ate, and you had the hour that would normally be spent on public transport to do nothing more than practice. You advanced so quickly that the conversations around you as you walked through the airport made sense, and you actually felt bad for eavesdropping on strangers.

It had only been a month.

The boys had finished their tour a week ago and were now on a short term break in between comebacks. You remembered the tired but satisfied looks on their faces when they finished their last show, the live notification that had popped up on your phone. You watched them spend an hour with Stay, only to get the added benefit of a video call immediately after, while they got ready for bed. They had spent most of the call talking about how much they missed you, wishing you were there for their concert, completely unaware of the plan you had put into motion.

Only Chan had been aware at the moment that you already had your soulmate visa.

When you originally brought up the plan to him, he had mentioned saving the information until you were sure of the time frame, to avoid getting them excited only for the plan to not pan out. It was notoriously difficult to get a soulmate visa, since you needed proof of your soulmate connection, and neither you nor Chan had a physical soulmark. You were worried you would need to talk to someone or argue your case to demonstrate your connection.

But all it took was a written statement from Chris and just like that, you had your soulmate connection officially and legally confirmed. It was almost laughably easy.

You trailed behind a group of people, your suitcase rattling as you dragged it next to you. The crowds around the airport made it hard for you to get a clear look on who you were looking for, so you paused next to a pillar for a second to glance down at your red string in hopes of it guiding you, only to notice that seven of the strings were all focused in the same location, with the eighth one not in front of you.

Hands pressed against your eyes from behind.

“Guess who.”

You laughed. “Chris!”

You abandoned your suitcase and spun around, throwing yourself into the arms of the man behind you. He caught you with a grunt, spinning you around with a laugh when you let out a squeak at the sudden movement. You refused to let go of him, even when your feet touched the ground once again.

“Hi,” You rested your chin against his chest so you could look into his eyes.

He was wearing a mask, but you could see his smile from the curve in his eyes. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

“Hmm, I missed you too, sweetheart.”

You were tempted to pull down his mask and kiss him right there, but you were still in a public location and Chris was still a famous idol. So instead, you settled for staying in his arms, letting him rock you two back and forth while humming something under his breath.

“Where are the others?”

“Ah, I told them we were having movie night. It was the easiest way to get all of them together without it being suspicious,” He said.

I blinked. “And they weren’t curious about where you were going so late at night?”

“I told them I forgot something at the company building. I think I have maybe 10 minutes before they start to get suspicious.”

“Doesn’t the drive back to your dorm take at least 30 minutes?”

“Guess we’ll have to come up with something.”

Coming up with something apparently meant sending them a text from Chris’s phone that he was going to get snacks, which then turned into actually having to get snacks when Felix asked for some cookies. Chris kept his mask on, slinking around the store aisles as quickly as he could, and you kept your distance just in case he was somehow recognized.

When you got back to the car, he held out your favorite candy towards you. “I remember you mentioning you liked these. You should hide them, otherwise the other’s will get to them first.”

You grabbed the candy gently, giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Oh, do you not like them?” He also shared a confused look.

“No, I love these,” You reassured, looking down at the candy and then back at Chris. “But I mentioned it once … in a text message. Weeks ago.”

“… And?”

“And you remembered that?” You wondered.

“Of course.”

You grabbed his arm as he reached to turn the car back on, pulling him away from the steering wheel and towards you. He let out a noise of surprise, but was quick to react when you pressed your lips against his, hand reaching out to steady you as you practically threw yourself towards him. He let out a chuckle, but you quieted him with another kiss, your eyes welling up with emotions. You heart was pounding so loud in your ears you wondered if he could hear it.

His hand was firm against your waist, thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin. His other hand reached up to pull your hair away from your face, palm cupping your cheek and engulfing you in warmth. You breathed in his essence, the cologne, the smell of his laundry detergent. His tongue tasted like peppermint. Your chest began to ache.

You let out a breathy whine when he pulled away.

“Hey, hey sweetheart. Are you okay?”

The tears in your eyes had slipped down your cheeks, and you immediately reached up to wipe them away. You nodded your head, unsure if you could speak, throat heavy with emotion. Chris stared at you for a second before a soft smile pulled at his lips.

“I missed you too.”

-0-0-

Sneaking you into the dorm was surprisingly easy. Chris had led you to the door, giving you the universal sign for ‘be quite’ with a finger to his lips, and you followed behind him quietly. The layout to the dorm room placed the entrance right in between the common area and the bedrooms, which meant that as Chris headed towards the right, you had the perfect opportunity to sneak to the left. You entered the first door to the right, just like he told you, and put down your suitcase as quietly as you could.

You then peeked your head out of the door, but all you could see was the hallway that led to the living room and kitchen, voices bouncing off the walls. You slowly pulled the door closed, pulling out your phone to wait for Chris to text you. He wanted to surprise the boys, and would let you know when they were all settled.

As you waited, you sent out a message to your parents letting them know you had arrived to the dorms and were with your soulmates again. Your mother responded immediately, telling you how happy she was.

After your realization, the fear of being pushed away and left behind, you had a serious conversation with your parents, but mostly with your mother. Your father was quick to reassure you that you had to live your own life, and that you weren’t leaving them behind since they would still be there for you if you needed them. He also wanted to make sure you weren’t staying away from your soulmates for his benefit, and you both had a good cry when you realized how guilty he had felt thinking he was holding you back.

Your talk with your mom went much about the same way. After shed tears and long hugs, She reassured you that she loved you and would always love you, but she wanted what was best for you. And she wanted you to be happy.

She helped you realize just how much the boys made you happy.

Even now, being so close to your soulmates, your heart was beating hard in your chest and your skin felt alight with excitement. You were minutes away from seeing them again. So close to them, so close to holding them in your arms.

Your phone buzzed in your hands.

Chris Ready? Y/N *thumbs up* Chan Nobody should be looking, come out whenever you want ;)

[lxtstrip]

Homesick | C. Sturniolo

TW: weed/drugs mention

AN: first sturniolo fic — also don’t do drugs, smoke a joint (pack a bowl, rip a bong, eat an edible idc!) where/when legal and enjoy.

WC: 935

Pairing: Chris x Reader

“Stay in Boston.” Chris read with confusion from a crumpled note he found in his newly thrifted hoodie pocket. He didn’t think much of it, just some trash left by an artist in Los Angeles. Whether it was a photographer, videographer, songwriter, or maybe a failed sketch was anyone’s guess.

What he wasn’t aware of was the treacherous journey that hoodie had taken to get to him and its ties to the city he called home. The hoodie had gone through a family vacation, a boy’s high school career, moving into a college dorm, a relationship, many italian ice date nights, and a breakup. The hoodie signified an era of someone’s life; the same tagline as everything else you lay your eyes on at a thrift store.

He thought about everything he had ever known as the items were piling up in his newly found second hand collection. Donating his skates when he was 13, his mother cleaning out the garage of all their holiday things, and even down to his brothers piling clothes on the bed to list for sale online. He didn’t own much, just enough to keep him out of trouble, so the thought of someone having enough to give away was enough to make his head spin.

He kept the paper regardless of whether it was trash or not. Chris adored Boston and only associated positive memories with it. Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium and TD Garden were his go to places to hang with his friends, brothers, or even alone. He remembers frantically Googling ‘free things to do in Boston’ before dates and eventually dipping into his wallet after he couldn’t find anything good with pride. He was someone who would do anything to make anyone happy, whatever the cost, but he couldn’t apply that theory to himself.

When all was done and dusted for the day he decided to shut himself in his room and unwind. He ran his fingers down the spines of the books you gave him, reading the titles to himself, hearing your voice with each syllable. Empty promises of going to visit him came flooding back into his memory as soon as he saw your favorite book; tattered edges, taped spine, and a receipt paper bookmark. He shook himself out of it and went to his desk to pack a bowl.

With a swift flick of the lighter Chris pressed the glass to his lips and inhaled for a moment feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He sat in his computer chair and looked around his room for signs of you - something, anything. He repeated the motion a few times and grabbed the torn piece of paper from his thrifting excursion.

“Stay in Boston.” Chris repeated to himself countless times before grabbing his phone. He knew your number by heart and as soon as he hit the call button an all-too-familiar ache came over him. He took another hit and exhaled when he heard your voicemail message play. He never thought he’d be here; alone, in his room, pining after a love lost.”

“Hey, it’s Chris…” he started. “I wish you were here. I’ve said it every day to myself while I’ve been out here. I know neither of us wanted this… I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted. I’ve been getting by on memories of stumbling to diners and stealing the mugs or skipping classes to go hang out at the park…” he took another hit and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is my heart will always have a space for you, my brain has always had one.”

You looked at your phone to see another voicemail from Chris. You shrugged it off thinking it was most likely another message he recorded at a party where he would preface it with whatever drug he was taking at the time; the west coast ruined him. As much as you hated to admit it you kept up with their videos and you locked in on Chris looking more gaunt every time.

You hadn’t answered a call from Chris in months and you never reached back out. You listened to his newest voice message as you recanted the first call since the split. He had just done a few lines of cocaine and he described it as feeling a sense of finally being able to focus to a greater extent. It shook you to your core that a once happy-go-lucky boy turned into… this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Chris often called to describe his high to you; cocaine, ayahuasca, benzos, acid, angel dust, salvia - the list went on. You were still his safe space and since he drew the conclusion you weren’t even listening to them he let his troubles go in the safe space of voicemails and dial tones.

Chris clutched the “Stay in Boston” note and thought about what it meant to the previous owner of the hoodie. Chris also thought about why this would fall into his lap and when it did. He slowly fell back into his nightly routine while he continued to contemplate that random piece of paper.

After a night of continuing keeping up his high, losing games, and melting his brain over three words Chris decided to head to bed. The second he was in bed it’s as if on cue he saw your name flash across his screen. It knocked his next breath out of him as he answered with a simple “Hello?”

“Chris…” you said followed by a shaky exhalation. “Please stay in Boston.”

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

one of the worst things about re-runs on cable is that sometimes youll see a random episode that you remember, decide "eh, sure" to watching, and one of the details you were ignorant to before now (but not anymore) now haS A SEVERELY DIFFERENT MEANING to the point it makes you do a spit-take

anyway. feel free to share your recent "eYO WHAT" moment of At Least I Know Now; I May Be Shocked But I Cannot Blame Myself For What I Did Not Know That I Didn't Know Before regarding re-watching a piece of media that had some small or big pillar within your life (cable or not, tv show or not). would love to know other people's so i feel less inattentive for having entirely forgotten this or forgot to process this or whatever the most apt term is

i'll go first:

my parents have been watching various cop-shows of the Not-Comedic variety (meaning no "Psych" and no "Brooklyn-99", boo), and the tangential (fireman-shows, paramedics, forensics, etc) and/or their spin-offs, since i was like... 7 years old at the youngest? before i was in middle-school at any rate

and for a long fucking time (for good reason, look how many fucking episodes there are), their favorite go-to was "NCIS". the original one with Gibbs, not one of the spin-offs

and bc i had Muslim friends online, a few in my middle and high school classes, and a few also irl outside of school (who were also kind enough to teach me, which they didn't have to do; but i was very privileged that they did), i was at least moderately aware this show had a ton of loudly rampant anti-Muslim/anti-Middle East/etc propaganda. that's who The Big Bad tended to be. which is frustrating. but it was way harder for it to brainwash me as id inwardly groan that "i dont know enough about this topic to be an expert in any way, but i do know this show is so Islamophobic that i wouldn't be surprised if they made this vitriol up". so i do want to mention that is a very huge Problem Area here

so i knew this huge problem existed in the show. i knew i had blind-spots. but i thought i had a good general awareness of all the propaganda in "NCIS"

...i did not. otherwise, i wouldn't have an "i'll go first" to go first with

bc i always remembered that Ziva David was Jewish, but i never memorized nor before had the context to process what it meant that she was an Israeli Jewish person

bc, since the late 1800s to the early 1900s, Israel has been trying to colonize Palestine and actively commit genocide to the indigenous inhabitants of the lands that were once Palestine, killing Palestinians of all faiths, including Jewish and Muslim Palestinians. so. that detail about Ziva does inform her character, the narrative's message, and makes it all the more obvious what kind of propaganda this show is. bc. uh. i knew i should never trust "NCIS" beforehand bc of its Islamophobic propaganda. did not realize a sizable chunk of that was also in a venn-diagram style overlap with Zionism. wow. okay

and furthermore!! apparently! even though it is 2024!!! and both protestors and allies alike are doing their best to keep Palestine in the news as a ton of people try to fund more Palestinian families to get out of danger!! — it's JUST been announced the networks newest installment within the "NCIS" Connected Universes will be the Paramount+ exclusive spin-off "NCIS: Tony & Ziva". and i am absolutely not going to tell my parents about said annoucement bc wtf

(which anybody who wants to maybe Reblog/Reply/send an Ask to say "that's so mean of you to do your parents": shut the fuck up. alright? focus up. talk shit in meaningful ways instead, like to help donate to Palestinian families in need. okay? okay.)

anyway

(1) uh, sure, feel free to eventually boycott "NCIS: Tony & Ziva" when it comes out, but this show won't be dropping for a while and a half. sO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO THE MORE-PRESSING AND TIME-SENSITIVE THINGS BELOW PLS AND THANKS 🤗💗💕

and (2) feel free to reblog and potentially share your own "eYO WHAT" Didn't Know Back Then What I Didn't Know re-watch stories to better help engage with this post through the tumblr algorithim (all the better if youre funnier than me (shouldnt be hard lol) tho a comedic story isn't a necessity for engaging) and get these Palestinian families Go-Fund-Me accounts in front of people who can afford to donate

and (3)!! i looked for the most recent Go Fund Me link-collection post ive reblogged to have copied down into this post (as someone whose disabilities and lack of wealth means the best i can consistently do is reblog here/repost on tiktok, spread awareness in my irl life, and so on. i irregularly use social media due to how drained my disability + doctor appts make me. i am doing this purely to see if it can help, i do not want attention or to be used as a resource when i cannot reliably be one with my current health situation. instead of me, please go follow (and donate to!!) these families and follow this user to keep the cycle of information and aid going!!)

this vetted collection was originally posted here, by @seance

@anqer - From War to Education: Abdelrahman Resilient Journey

@fatma93gaza - Support Fatima's Family in Gaza After Heartbreaking Tragedy

@emanfamily - Donate to help my family live in peace

@basel-19951995 - Help me evacuate my family and rebuild a new start

@ayaalanqarsblog - Save Gaza: A Brighter Future for Aya and Her Family

@ashraf-family2 - Hope for Gaza: Support Ashraf's Family Rebuild Their Lives

under the read-more is me just Knowing The Internet Can Be Toxic and having further context (about my family + "NCIS") can help curb a few people somewhat. at least it gives me "the autistic sense of peace knowing i have fully explained myself"(TM) so i can more clearly go "that's an unproductive response of pure Bad Faith. blocked". however, i didn't want this post to be longer than it is so as itd have a better chance at ✨️engagement✨️ and $$$ if its not a # Long Post

here's my list of things that clarify some context of this post, but overall dont matter. and also adding any of them Above The Read More would make people less likely to interact and reblog than i already assume people will (bc i dont got a lot of followers lmao c'est la vie, long as i did my best to help), as people either hesitate to reblog or dont reblog Long Posts. so these were all originally a part of the Above The Read More narrative before i thought it overall better to move them down here since i already did not wanna delete them entirely

sorry for any misspellings, im dyslexic and am writing this casually from my phone

like it wasn't until the past 5 or 6 years that my parents got sick of re-watching the "NCIS" re-runs on cable? and i'm 27 as of writing this. so minus 6 years, and that means from sometime before i was in middle school up until i was 21, this was a regular and favorited re-watched show they'd tune in for new episodes of and re-runs of whenever they stumbled on it. and, due to said 5 or 6 years, it's recently accumulated to have been enough time where, if "NCIS" is on now, they aren't AS sick of it anymore? as in, it's not their #1 favorite anymore still, but they will watch it with mild apathy/contentment; especially if it's an episode they still remember the plotline of VS a new episode that they dont. but, overall, even when id be in the room but on my phone or in the next room over and doing my hw: this show was a consistent pillar of my life growing up, at least in the background if not further up close

and, bc i know certain irrational parts of the internet will get mad i ever even dared passively absorb this show: dont be mad at ME bc "NCIS" had funding and viewership, im not a network head nor did i make the choice to have Ziva be Israeli. hell, i couldn't control the TV and refuse to give them viewership; i was a minor, my mom and dad were in charge, and my dad especially let me know him wanting to watch a show mattered more than me not wanting to watch it. he wouldnt change the channel on his favorite show. and though there were times i was invested, and i do have good memories here and there with my parents watching these various shows on/off, i knew also to question every villain they had and do my best to unpack/analyze whatever congrument narrative that was in their show that alligned with a thought i had about Islam as a monolith that i couldn't source back to my Muslim friends or learning about Islam on my own time. im ultimately glad i learned so much from it in that way. and i think that is the better way to go-- to watch whatever, but unpack as needed when you realize your biases-- rather than proverbially "burn the books" of whatever media you dislike and/or deem problematic. which this show is definitely problematic. but im still glad i learned from it in the ways that i have, and that i can use my history with the show to trick the algorithm maybe and get these families some additional attention

my chronic memory loss symptom means i am naturally predisposed to not be able to consistently remember certain things, especially details about people that didn't have emotional weight to me or that didn't come up too often, sometimes including things like a friend's ancestry or ethnicity. but, uh, i guess either none of my past Muslim friends were Palestinian?? or else any that were? they did not have the vocabulary or bandwidth to explain Palestine's fraught history of being oppressed by Israel to me (fair enough)?? i know one of my current Muslim friends definitely is Palestinian, but we met when i was 23 or a bit older (aka: after my parents were already sick of "NCIS", so the show and Ziva David being Israeli didnt come up; we did not know each other during the height of me having Muslim friends in middle and high school kindly helping teach me a few things)

personally, all my Jewish friends are from high school or before. and apparently, i don't have their social media or else they maybe deleted/renamed their accounts bc im not finding them in my Following lists. so i have no idea if any were from Isn'tReal. but i assume not, out of wishful thinking if nothing else. friendly reminder that antisemitism isn't cool, period; and also that calling out Zionism =/= antisemitism

alright then. dont mind me, im just gonna hc that one of my favorite "NCIS" characters is now a Palestinian Jewish person out of spite now. bc that's fucked up, that they made her Israeli on top of all this Islamophobia. and Palestinian people of all faiths are being impacted by Israel, yes, but there absolutely is Islamophobia involved in this genocide. so, like, excuse me, im just gonna casually re-write her in my head; cognitive dissonance is a helluva drug bc, like, you know the thing you like is bad but, like, what if you imagine if it was good lmao rip

unrelated tangent, if anybody was curious: "Bones" has been my stand-out favorite of my parents' rotation. i related to Dr Brennan's autism-coding, the show had good dialog and was largely sincere despite its writers' early-2000s-caused questionable creative-decisions, i find its obvious absurdity funny (wh... why would a museuem ever agree to this, they do FBI crime-work next to dinosaur skeletons, this setting is ridiculous lmao), and it has been the closest to comedy my parents would watch. it's a fun time, with some must-skip episodes, yeah, but it's fun. in my free time, i have also watched "Psych" and "Brooklyn-99" though, and i like them! im not a big fan of cop-shows and its tangential forms regardless though. but yeah, i do not recommend "NCIS". it wore me down over the years, but i do not recommend it. for obvious reasons i have now already fully explained lol

the next bullet point below is the original full form of what i said about "the difference between a protestor versus an ally" before editing my rambling down so i didnt detrack from the post's actual point:

↳ and both protestors and allies alike ("allies" being people who cannot protest for disability and/or safety reasons, but who do spread pro-Palestine news how/when they can and donate if/when it is possible for their wallets) are doing their best to keep Palestine in the news as a ton of people try to fund more Palestinian families to get out of danger!! [edit: i would be unsurprised if people disagreed with me that what i call "allies" is different than a "protestor". but i am keeping the term literal at the moment to give credit where credit is due for these organizers, influencers doing content and outreach to sponsor a family or multiple families, sit-out camp and walking-parade and curbside-standing protestors, and so on and so forth. however, my health and disability makes me specifically only capable of "ally" status; so maybe i am wrong and am doing some form of self-deprecation. i personally doubt it; i think im still right to internally have a dividing line made so literal like this. but i am open to the idea if nothing else. feel free to agree to disagree with my diction, i guess lol]

the next bullet point below is the original full form of what i said about anyone saying "that's so mean of you to do to your parents" before editing my rambling down so i didnt detrack from the post's actual point:

↳ (which anybody who wants to maybe Reblog/Reply/send an Ask to say "that's so mean of you to do your parents": shut the fuck up. okay? my parents don't have an interest in learning how to work streaming services anyway, it's fine. and my mom supports Palestine, so what i said is honestly hyperbole as she'd be down for our household to mostly-intentionally boycott the spin-off anyway. bc, yeah, its SO easily done for us since we dont have any streaming subscriptions, much less Paramount+ specifically. and my dad's early dementia makes his general stance unpredictable, bc it depends what he remembers is happening in the news/in politics, much less in Palestine specifically; he'll be "meh. okay" about being kept out of the loop. okay? focus up. talk shit in meaningful ways instead, like to help donate to Palestinian families in need. okay? okay.)

the next bullet point below is the original full form of what i said about "feel free to eventually boycott 'NCIS: Tony & Ziva' when it comes out" before editing my rambling down so i didnt detrack from the post's actual point:

↳ uh, sure, feel free to eventually boycott "NCIS: Tony & Ziva" when it comes out, since assumedly the networks are not going to ret-con that Ziva David is an Israeli Jewish person (which. her actress' wiki says she herself is neither Israeli or Jewish anyway, so literally no reason for anybody there to dig their heels in about this detail) and there's no reason for us to have ever had, much less have even more Zionism (+ likely still Islamaphobic) propaganda added to our current media landscape. but this show won't be dropping for a while and a half, sO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO THE MORE-PRESSING AND TIME-SENSITIVE [LINKS ABOVE THE READ MORE] PLS AND THANKS 🤗💗💕

the next bullet point below is the original full form of what i said about "here is why i am not a good person to follow to help you keep an eye on Palestine; go follow the families and the person who organized these links instead" before editing my rambling down so i didnt detrack from the post's actual point:

↳ (as someone whose disabilities and lack of wealth means the best i can consistently do is reblog here/repost on tiktok, spread awareness in my irl life, and so on. i irregularly use social media due to how drained i get. i do not have the luxury of energy, esp with all my diagnostic journey medical appointments further tiring me out, to make original posts on a regular basis like Palestinian families deserve and need from their regular backers. i thought of this post idea and worked on it on/off with the bits of energy i have had; i am doing this purely to see if it can help, i do not want attention or to be used as a resource when i cannot reliably be one with my current health situation. instead of me, please go follow these families and this user to keep the cycle going)

[anseki]

HI! 🖤🖤

My name is Aneski!

I'm currently 13!

My pronouns are she/her and I am straighter than an arrow!

9/15/2011

I’m also a single pringle!!

I'm a Virgo (grounded with Capricorn, Pieces, Taurus, Scorpio and Cancer)

I enjoy ghost hunting, paranormal, horror, cat, drawing, reading, painting, singing and acting improv/scripted, typing fanfics (mainly a coping thing but if you want me to write any stories than I'll try !!!)

I also bed rot and marinate a lot A Lot

I have a strong group of supportive and loving friends (9)

^ v *

I don't enjoy bugs, people, loud noises, being watched, stress and being in pain

I look for taller men with a humorous side but smart and kind and honest

<3

Im probably the most cringest and pick me ish girl you'll ever meet but im trying ;u;

My fav YouTubers are Sam and Colby, BENOFTHEWEEK, Hazbin Hotel VRChat, TFIL, OVERNIGHT, SSSinperwolf, Vivziepop, Colby Brock, Sam Golbach, Jake Webber, DRAMA MAMA, & Brandon Rogers

My fav song artists are Melanie Martinez, Alan Walker, Chapell Roan Black Gryp0hn & Bassik, Paranoid DJ, JT Music, The Living Tombstone, Sub Urban, NEONI, AIVVIA, BABYMONSTER, & Stray Kids

My fav shows are Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Naruto, Demon Slayer, Spy X Family, Ghost Adventures, Gumball, Bee And Puppycat, Class Acts, Bryce Tankthrust, CEO, Magic Funhouse, & Cathy A Mom Making A Difference

My fav movies are K-12 The Movie, A Whisker Away, Drifting Home, The Legands Of The Paranormal, Harry Potter,

My fav games are Hide and Clap (From The Conjuring) LA Freeze, (An improv game) Silent Ball, Uno, Cards Agasint Humanity, Spin The Bottle, Truth or Dare, Charads, FNAF (idk know the lore tho dont hate on me pls ;u;)

I w I <3

I am very very senstive, weird, scarred, I have an eye condtion (Nastagmis) so my eyes move around a lot, I'm autstic (Since I was diagonised later, girls often have this situation, I don't know much abt it) I am lactoss free so I can't eat diary, (cow milk, chess, yougrut, pizza etc etc)

But I have very loving parents and friends to support me through struggles <3!!

I don't have many online friends so I hope to make some!

Joyland AI - @Anseki Spotify - @Aneski Moemate AI - @ChocoletteCoco

I do not own any of the following pictures !!!

I am deeply sorry for any spelling mistakes !!!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Billboard

* * * *

NPR reports on Trump's 162 lies during last Thursday’s press conference.

The journalists in attendance at Trump's staged press-event last Thursday failed to challenge him when he spouted lie after lie. Some organizations did “fact checks” of the most egregious lies. But only one news organization has published a comprehensive analysis of every lie Trump told during the 90-minute press conference. See NPR, 162 lies and distortions in a news conference. NPR fact-checks former President Trump.

The report by NPR is exhaustive. It required a substantial amount of work and attention to detail. NPR and the reporters who researched the article deserve to be commended for their work. The article begins by noting that Trump told two lies per minute during the press conference!

A team of NPR reporters and editors reviewed the transcript of his news conference and found at least 162 misstatements, exaggerations and outright lies in 64 minutes. That’s more than two a minute. It’s a stunning number for anyone – and even more problematic for a person running to lead the free world. Politicians spin. They fib. They misspeak. They make honest mistakes like the rest of us. And, yes, they even sometimes exaggerate their biographies. The expectation, though, is that they will treat the truth as something important and correct any errors. But what former President Trump did this past Thursday went well beyond the bounds of what most politicians would do.

The byline on the article is Domenico Montanaro, but the text says it was written by a team of reporters and editors. I urge readers to provide feedback to NPR on its editorial decision to invest the time and resources to catalog Trump's lies. We must not allow Trump to exhaust us through the sheer volume of his lies. NPR didn’t let that happen for last Thursday’s staged press event. Kudos to NPR!

An article by Tom Nichols in The Atlantic also deserves attention. See The Truth About Trump’s Press Conference. (This article is accessible to all.) Nichols reviews the headlines in the NYTimes, WaPo, CNN and other media outlets, all of which focused on the impact of the news conference on the horse-race aspect of the election.

Nichols writes,

All of these headlines are technically true, but they miss the point: The Republican nominee, the man who could return to office and regain the sole authority to use American nuclear weapons, is a serial liar and can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy. Donald Trump is not well. He is not stable. There’s something deeply wrong with him. Any of those would have been important—and accurate—headlines.

Sunday presented another opportunity for major media to redeem themselves and finally—finally—acknowledge that Trump is not well. Will they do so in their Monday editions? We can always hope. Read on!

Trump descends further into conspiracy, delusion, and deceit over the weekend.

Last week, Kamala Harris and Tim Walz visited Michigan in Air Force 2. They disembarked the plane and walked into a hangar that held an overflow crowd that spilled onto the tarmac. Estimates put the crowd size at about 12,000.

On Saturday, MAGA internet trolls began analyzing the “reflections” on the body and engines of Air Force 2 and could not see reflected images of the crowd. The trolls could not see the reflected images because they were examining curved surfaces that reflected light and images from directly beneath the plane—where no one was standing. The trolls should have spent more time in high school science classes than playing multi-player fantasy games online. But I digress.

The trolls immediately concluded that the images of the crowds were generated by AI autofill in Photoshop. That claim was immediately and unequivocally rebutted when video from major media outlets panned the crowd and Air Force 2 in a single shot, proving the crowds were real—not AI-generated images. That should have been the end of the story, right?

Wrong! On Sunday, Trump posted a rant on Truth Social in which he claimed that Harris and Walz were resorting to AI to make it appear that their crowd sizes were larger than Trump's. With apologies, I am going to reprint Trump's rant in full. Read as much as you can, and then meet me on the other side:

Has anyone noticed that Kamala CHEATED at the airport? There was nobody at the plane, and she "A.l'd" it, and showed a massive "crowd" of so-called followers, BUT THEY DIDN'T EXIST! She was turned in by a maintenance worker at the airport when he noticed the fake crowd picture, but there was nobody there, later confirmed by the reflection of the mirror-like finish on the Vice Presidential Plane. She's a CHEATER. She had NOBODY waiting, and the "crowd" looked like 10,000 people! Same thing is happening with her fake "crowds" at her speeches. This is the way the Democrats win Elections, by CHEATING - And they're even worse at the Ballot Box. She should be disqualified because the creation of a fake image is ELECTION INTERFERENCE. Anyone who does that will cheat at ANYTHING!

One of two things is true: Trump believes that the images are faked (despite video by major new organizations) or he does not.

If Trump has fallen into delusion and conspiracy, that fact deserves front page treatment from every news outlet in America.

If Trump knows the images of the crowd are true, then he is setting up a claim that Democrats can only win the 2024 election by cheating, and that fact deserves front page treatment from every news outlet in America.

As I said, we shall see if the Monday editions of major news outlets say (a) Trump is descending into delusion, or (b) Trump is setting up an attack on integrity of presidential election for the second time!

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[asena-queenslayer]

genshin guys as figure skaters (& more) at the rink part 2:

characters: kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, tartaglia, thoma, tighnari, venti, wanderer, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli

disclaimer: all based on my own experiences & hc's as a former figure skater!

1/2

-------------------------------------------------------

kaeya:

another of dain's students. practically lives at the rink. that one guy everyone has a crush on. one of the best singles skaters. menace on the ice in both senses of the term (v fast) (& teases everyone). stunning programs. teaches Learn to Skate classes on the side & is v good with the kids (klee's in his class). iconic move is his no-hands hydroblade & sassy high kick after landing his triple axel (no this is definitely not inspired by yuzuru hanyu haha what are you talking abt).

kaveh:

complains about the fading artistry from figure skating. v beautiful programs & extremely good at expressing emotion. the one who breaks down after his ending position in competition. unfortunately broke, so skates for a few weeks & then disappears for months on end. religiously takes nilou's ballet classes (does not help with the broke aspect but at least nilou loves him). iconic move is his stunning spiral.

kazuha:

from the same rink as heizou, but shows up even less frequently. still, his grace & flow is the envy of all. beidou's student (she commutes back & forth between the two rinks).

tart:

menace. clown. also practically lives at the rink. doesn't actually skate much during practice, but is somehow still v good. teases everyone. the reckless guy sprinting around the ice instead of skating. iconic moves are his high af Russian split jump & gravity-defying cantilever. occasionally helps out with Learn to Skate. god help the class who gets him & kaeya paired as teachers bc they are chaos incarnate.

thoma:

front desk guy. brings his dog to work. friendly af. everyone lowkey has a crush on him. will let regulars in for free when they run out of passes & forget money to pay for more. drives the zamboni.

tighnari:

the substitute medic when baizhu is on sick leave. kind but has little tolerance for stupid people. yells at the public skaters walking around on the unpadded areas & kids who kick their rental skates against the bleachers (damages the blades).

venti:

local musician. popular choice for program music; but everyone either hates or loves him since his songs are rather overplayed. shows up to all the competitions in horrible incognito (literally just a pair of sunglasses & the occasional fake mustache).

wanderer:

the kid who hates being there. grumpy af abt being forced to skate. is actually not bad tho, just really hard on himself. the person who keeps restarting his program music bc he messed up, even if it was small. secretly likes showing off. iconic move is his dramatic af spider lunge.

xiao:

zhongli's student. v v good & v fast. jumping machine, probably has quads. doesn't talk or smile much. rarely helps with the Learn to Skate program bc the kids are scared of him. iconic move is his biellmann spin since he's actually flexible enough for it.

xingqiu:

the supportive friend who comes to watch chongyun skate. always carries a book with him. chongyun is a little embarrassed but always glad to have xingqiu & the rest of the liyue squad cheering for him when he steps onto the ice for competition.

zhongli:

cool af older coach. probably won multiple Olympics & Worlds in his time but no one has any idea until they look him up online. everyone & their parent want him as a coach. fully booked tho so rather difficult to get lessons with him as a new student. rarely gets on the ice, mostly stands behind the boards & coaches from there. however, every time he does step onto the ice, everyone can immediately see the old Olympian in him.

[cyberneticatoms]

no way is that ARCHER CHASE..they’re a 33 year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being IMPATIENT & JOKESTER but there are some people who have seen them being DRIVEN & OBSERVANT. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of sirens racing down the street, keeping your heart in the closet, and an iconic birthmark, but that could just be because they’re considered the ALL-LOVING HERO around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

↳ 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚂

NAME:  Archer Hunter Chase NICKNAMES: Archie (Nora and Blake only) DATE OF BIRTH: June 27th (33) HEIGHT: 6'2 AFFILIATION: Neutral OCCUPATION: Paramedic Firefighter FACECLAIM: Oliver Stark

TW: homophobia, emotional abuse, domestic abuse, religious trauma

↳ 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳

❖ Archer was the second child of the Chase family, the final piece to their picturesque all American Christian family.  ❖ He was raised to be a man's man, sports and church being the main way he spent his free time. With an emphasis on eventually having his own perfect family.  ❖ During one afternoon bible study group, the Church had caught fire from failed wiring. Archer and his older sister Nora being rescued by the local firefighters. ❖ This planted the seed in his head to eventually become a firefighter as well, specifically a paramedic, wanting to help someone the way he had been. ❖ As he got older, he realized he was different from all the guys he hung out with. While they were looking at girls, he was looking at them instead. Realizing he was gay and that his parents would never allow that to slide with how rigid they were with gender expectations. ❖ He hid it well, at school he was the quarterback and class president. Late at night he was using a fake ID to sneak out to a gay bar a town over.  ❖ When his parents found out they immediately set up to send him to conversion therapy. At first he went along with it, years of obeying his parents had him hesitating to go against them. ❖ Though the night before he was set to leave, he called Nora to let her know. It didn't take much prompting from her to have him breaking down.  ❖ With her encouragement, he ran away to her door, effectively being disowned and feeling deeply guilty over his parents cutting her off.  ❖ It didn't help that Blake was too young to understand and was angry with him over losing his grandparents. Which was only encouraged by his dad who wasn't happy to have Archer in his perfect house. Even blaming him for all his fights with Nora to Blake, making his nephew lash out even more at him. ❖ While he did his best not to make waves, he slowly pieced together what was really happening with Nora and her husband. He begged her to leave with him when he turned 18, frustrated and feeling alone when she ultimately said no, he signed up for a fire watch station job. ❖ Despite being on his own, he still stayed in the closet, afraid to have his life crash down again despite meeting other people who were out. Most of his connections were online, eventually opting to join a fire station in DFW. ❖ It was around this time that Nora left her husband and called him, quick to respond and support his sister. Blake was closed off at first before reluctantly admitting to feeling guilty and worried Archer hated him. A fear he was quick to disprove and the two slowly mended their relationship.  ❖ For the most part he's been focused on helping his family heal while focusing on his career. He's still nervous about having any sort of relationship with a man, having stuck mostly to the occasional hook up. Even if there's a blonde that has a smile that makes his head spin.

↳ 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲

• Is also the one usually handling the fire house's robot dalmatian, Spot. He's able to help with search and rescue using a variety of built in features.

[myfakecandyy]

Areo Lore 101 + Some Art

Areo, My Drow Wizard/Cleric of Eiliestraee with an insane god complex and attachment issues. Both art by me <3!

When I started getting invested in Dungeons & Dragons, I needed to familiarise myself with the Lore, worldbuilding and races in the Forgotten Realms setting. So, to experiment, I came up with the rough idea of my Wizard Areo. I did not have a clear picture of who I wanted to create. Still, I knew I wanted to play someone with a memorable and fun roleplay personality, so I gave her a holier-then-thou god complex; she was created to be someone who believed she was immortal and so took unnecessary risks with a delusional sense of safety. Before I ever got to play her in a tabletop setting, Baldurs Gate 3 came out, and I was very excited to play as I grew up playing the Baldurs Gate spin-off games Dark Alliance 1 & 2, coupled with the exciting and positive things I saw online I bought the game pretty quickly. To expand on Areo and learn more about the Lore, I made my Tav Areo, and she's grown into such a beloved OC to me.

Actual Lore under the cut! [Possible Spoilers]

Early Life: Areo was born and grew up in the Drow city Menzoberranzan; for those unfamiliar with the setting, it's a large city in the Underdark(Underground of Faerun). Her upbringing was vastly different from most of the city. This is because Menzoberranzan is built and run by devout followers of the Chaotic Evil Goddess of Drow Lolth, Queen of Spiders, while Areo's mother, Miz'ri, was a follower and Priestess of Eiliestraee, the Chaotic Good Goddess of Drow. It is important to note that Eiliestraee and Lolth oppose each other morally, ideally and narratively.

Lolth: To explain the Lore surrounding Lolth, she is essentially a tyrant. She thrives in cruelty, encouraging her followers to kill each other to prove themselves worthy of her fickle favour, enjoying manipulating them into servitude, only to then toy with them anyway. She demands questionless loyalty and devotion; it is no wonder her people are known for their backstabbing, power-hungry tenacity. It was illegal to worship any deity besides her in the city; treachery almost guaranteed death.

Eiliestraee: Eiliestraee is the daughter of Lolth and lives to stand against her mother's ways. She is the Drow Goddess of Freedom, Dance and Song for all those who wish to return to the surface world and be free of Lolth's grasp. She is a joyful mother-like goddess who strives to inspire the Drow and stand as a beacon of hope.

To continue, Miz'ri wished to spread the word and beliefs of Eiliestraee, helping shepherd many of the lower-class citizens of Menzoberranzan into better lives on the surface world, the journey of which was highly treacherous and dangerous. This was something that kept many Drow from leaving. However, Miz'ri was an extremely powerful Cleric of amazing faith and magic. Areo spent her childhood beside her, and the small group of followers she amassed became her family. This rag-tag group of Drow worked secretly for the first 11 years of her life, dodging the threats of the city surrounding them.

It was in the year she turned 12 that things changed. Her mother, who held so much love and affection for the world and people around her, was methodically corrupted and converted by Lolth, an established master at manipulation. On one long expedition to the surface world, just as they had almost broken the surface, Miz'ri turned on the clergy she created, slaughtering the innocents she once led to freedom, leaving nothing behind but a pile of gore. As is Lolth's will to all that turn their back on her. Areo lived to be the only survivor. The effects of this event then altered her perception of reality and life.

Areo didn't survive due to the mercy of her mother. If you asked her to recall how she survived, she would be unable to tell the truth, her mind betraying her. I will break the events into two paragraphs: What Areo thought happened and compare it to what actually happened?

Delusion: In her memories, Areo cannot recall much of that day beyond a haze of religious imagery and flashes of light. She saw herself outside her body receiving a divine blessing from her deity of unbreakable protection. Shortly after, the beautiful form of Eilistraee manifests in front of her to use her divine magic to end her mother's tormented destruction and free her soul.

Reality: Her mother came for her life last; perhaps she had a semblance of her old self alive, urging her to spare her baby, but she was cold and without mercy in her final moments. It was pure luck and timing that Areo managed to kill her mother before she killed her; it was a quick and straightforward burst of magic in a moment of panic that managed to catch Miz'ri off guard enough to pierce her heart fatally.

Areos's memory was heavily clouded by trauma and a childlike way of rationalising things, and so her developed survivor guilt manifested oddly. Being a weak child seeing all these people around her die, she couldn't understand why she was the lone survivor, and so while searching for an answer as to why, her brain jumped to incorrect conclusions. In this case, her thought process was, "I didn't die? Even though I should have? That must mean I'm Immortal and blessed by the gods(In her case, Eiliestraee); that's the only reason that explains how I got to live while others didn't." This, of course, drastically changed her worldview.

Growing up, these delusions only elevated and reinforced themselves deep into her brain; every near-death experience, every lucky instance in her life, and every victory in combat only made her believe this more, especially with the increasingly heavy risks she began taking. Indeed, it is all incorrect, and she has survived this far solely on luck, her cunning and wit.

Some old art from when I was first developing this storyline. There are a few inconsistencies as I have changed the Lore and her design by now, but the vibes remain similar:

Young child: Very shortly after the massacre, Areo aimlessly wandered around the shallows of the Underdark. She was starving and injured from the renowned harshness of the area. Once again, luck comes to her aid when a kind older wizard passes her way. He had been scouring the land for different plants and fungi to use in his brews and alchemy when he noticed the pure black eyes of a young girl watching him from afar. He knew she would have died had he not taken her in, so for the next part of her life, she lived in a tower taught magic by this man she became quite fond of.

Early Adulthood: In his old age, that kind of wizard died a peaceful death in Areo's 15th year. She was consumed by an intense grief, finding herself alone once again. In her mind, she cursed her "immortality", a curse to outlive all she came to care for, and so, in anger and sadness, she resigned herself to live a life of solitude in the tower forever. There was more at play. However, she was also so terrified. She had never left the building alone, and much of the surface world did see Drow kindly, but even then, the fear dug deeper in her head. Even approaching the door to left her paralysed her mentally. Her life up to this point had taken a massive toll on her mental health. It was a mental block she could never get past.

For 60 years of chronic isolation, she read the thousands of books her mentor had collected in his long life, many of which were books passed from his master and so on. The collection of multiple generations' worth of arcane knowledge and study kept her mind nourished but her body weak. Her options for food were limited by her inability to leave the building. For 60 years, her growing adolescent body feasted on inhumane amounts of food, the leaves from decorative plants, ants that crawled along the walls, moss growing on the ceiling and worse. Her extreme malnutrition had drastic effects on her body that are, at this point, irreversible.

This explains her cannon base Dnd Stats at 75 years old (BG3 Timeline). Strength 4, Dexterity 6, Constitution 2, Intelligence 18, Wisdom 14, Charisma 12

Baldurs Gate 3: In accordance with the game lore, Areo was at some point abducted from the tower by Mindflayers and infected with a Mindflayer Tadpole. It is safe to assume she would never have left that place otherwise and would be starving in that tower for many more years.

The first art I had drawn of her after starting Bg3:

[windlullaby-arts]

Since MHA is ending i think it's a good time for me to finally rant about the series. I don't usually share my thoughts on an online platform but i deeply respect this series and i really want to get these feelings off my chest. Feel free to read this piece of my mind (dw it's spoiler free-ish lol)

I haven't been an MHA fan for a long time (i started some time around last year i think?), but now it's ENDING??? I gotta confess that i had my doubt at first, i was so skeptical since it looked like an anime for kids, with the superhero theme and bright colors. But as i follow along the story, it has EVERYTHING that i look for in a series. Loveable characters, great character dynamics, even better character developments, and the most important thing: a good story (i'm quite the movie person, you see). Maybe i'm just picky and have different taste, idk, but it was so hard for me to find all of these aspects in one series, and MHA has it all at least for me.

I won't say much about the ending as to not spoil it, but all i want to say is it’s kind of... mellow? Not the ending i expected from such an exciting series. It’s not that i dislike it but i don’t really like it either? it made me sad and happy at the same time in a way that i can’t really explain.

MHA is one of my main sources of joy especially for the last few months where i've been living from week to week just waiting for some of my favorite anime and manga to be released. Among some others, MHA has cheered me up through my hardships. It has been an emotional journey from start to finish and i want to thank Horikoshi from the bottom of my heart for all of his hard work, it’s truly been wonderful.

One last thing since i don’t really know where else to put this, as an artist i haven't even gather the courage to draw more MHA characters, bc the way Horikoshi draws them is so dear to me i'm afraid i'll botch all of their designs (his style is so different from my usual style but oh i can't emphasize enough on how much i love his drawings). Not to mention every time i see someone did a wholesome artwork of MHA characters my chest hurts a little and i started tearing up like a girl who just got dumped by her ex and saw pictures of them together lol (my goal is to draw a beach episode scene for class 1-A and cried over them again and again wish me luck).

Thank you for indulging me and if you've read this far, i’m up for a discussion about the ending, or the series as a whole, or anything really even outside of MHA. In the meanwhile i'll quench my thirst for more MHA content by reading all of the spin-off series.. and rewatching the anime from the start to finish for like the tenth time.

[herbrokenmelodies]

DANCE WITH THE OCEAN, MOVE WITH THE SEA, LET THE RHYTHM OF THE WAVES, SET YOUR SOUL FREE 🌊 cerberus corp has been watching Himiko Yamada.  some of the public has dubbed them Songstress because of Siren Song gifted by drowning at some D-Listers Party having been an extra ordinary since 2011, they’re doing a good job at hiding  Strained Voice, Sore Throats and Constant Champed Lips when they aren’t working their day job as a Nightclub Manager, they are fond of Retail Therapy and are never seen without American Express Gold Card. at first glance they seem Charismatic & Confident, though their close friends know them to also be Manipulative & Money Driven.  they consider themself a anti-hero

bio ┋ musings ┋ connections ┋ playlist ┋ pinterest ┋ navi

name  himiko yamadanicknames  himi, miko

age  thirtydfive date of birth  1st june 1988zodiac  gemini place of birth  yokohama, japan current residence  new york

gender  cisgender women

pronouns  she/hersexuality  bisexual occupation  nightclub manager at the abyss

faceclaim  satomi ishihara

height  5'7 feet

tattoos  none piercings  ears distinguishing features  scar on bottom back positive traits  charismatic, confident, hard-working, fun-loving, upbeat, talkative negative traits  manipulative, money driven, dramatic, annoying, boastful.

labels / tropes  [coming soon...]

inspirations london tipton {suite life}, madisynn king {she-hulk}

...more coming soon

likes  retail therapy, partying, dancing, music, glitter, themed parties, fancy over the top cocktails,dislikes  small talk, silence, fears  drowning, permanently loosing her voice, no wifi, credit card getting declined, being sober for too long hobbies  mixology, partying, yoga, pilates,spin class,making money from people who need her powers, shopping, online shopping,habits  sleeps about three hours, never misses a sale, thriple checker, glitter havoc, always presentable

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

TW: DROWNING, ALCOHOL

near death experience…  Himko wanted to be famous, it was always as simple as that but to make or break in the big city, no matter how much money that her daddy has, she still had to network in order to get it. she was not the best with business conversations  or stale dinners or drinks in rundown bars, she was more a girl who was the life of the party and so exactly that is what she would do. She managed to sneak her way into some D-Listers Celebrity party with samples. Yet she got a little more carried away with partying, one tequila...three...tequila....four tequila, floor....of the swimming pool. She was little too drunk to remember but woke up in Urgent Care and was told she was lucky she made it that night. From their she got a pity recording studio time...that helped her work out her powers. Not so much a record deal.

power…  Siren Song, the ability to enchant and compel others who fall influence under the hauntingly beautiful voice of the siren song. However, it is not as simple as Himiko singing and all falling under her enchantment. For people to succumb to her Siren Song, she must sing a song backwards that contain the name and command that she wishes the listener to obey. The influence only lasts for 10 minutes and 43 seconds after the song has concluded after which the enchantment would fade away. The Siren Song is only temporary. Her power is best used for interrogation, assisting in short tasks.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities… Those who have been influenced from her song will remember they have been influenced unless they song states otherwise. The more awareness that someone has of her power, the higher a persons resistance will be to her Siren Song. That being said, those of strong will are able to break the enchantment instantly compared to those who may be intoxicated as their mind is far more impressionable. Himiko is able to compel at most 3 people at a time, anything more than that her voice will be strained until she gets her voice back. Side effects include, a dry throat, constantly chapped lips and possible strained voice.

codename…  Siren...would have been the obvious choice for her but she decided to name herself Songstress at it has a slight air of mystery to it. She picked it and did the marketing for it, to the right people.

[shidouryusm]

I'm FINALLY back on dash after a whole lot of days baby gorls. How's yall been? I missed y'all like crazy. I landed just a few hours ago and now Im home and resting (baggage claim and calling uber was crazy af shit was even more hectic than the whole flight) . My suitcases are on the doorway and my classes start tomorrow but atleast lab final is postponed, the classes are online cause of some political movement. I showered, did skincare and the room is cold so life is pretty nice.

I'm gonna wrap up all the unfinished fic (+ the new ideas I got) that I intended to do in these free time and schedule them but the last thing I got in this ten days of travel was free time. I was on constant running on destinations, tours and stuff so my body is tired af. But Im very recharged and motivated so I shall be productive with my academics and blogger life lmaaooo. but for today Im bout to sleep cause I'm feeling like the world around me is spinning as we speak. bye babis

Hope yall are having a nice and fun weekend. love u babies.

also can someone tell me is there something wrong with discord or my laptops acting out.