#how dare i have to pay money to create

[googoogagahearteyes]

Let me into a ceramics studio I need to create shit with my bare hands and then come close to eating it or smashing it

[eph3merall]

i’m in love with literally anything you write! i was wondering by if you could make a dealer!chris + doll!reader fic with either fluff or angst (dare i say very specific🤭) to an ariana grande song (your choice) !! <3

soo sweet <3 sorry this took so long. loosely based off 'in my head' by ariana grande !

—

"Here’s the thing: you’re in love with a version of a person that you’ve created in your head, that you are trying to but cannot fix."

chris is hunched over—back aching and muscles sore. you eye him from your position next to him on the worn sofa, watching as he snorts another line of coke. white powder is speckled slightly around his nostrils, exhaling as he sits up and stretches his shoulders out. sniffing and wiping at his nose with his finger, he exhales and clicks his tongue.

you don't dare to say much, noticing how he seems to be 'in his element' or whatever. you aren't exactly a fan of chris' constant drug usage and his deals—but it's kind of his 'job' and he gets money for it. as long as he's getting by without trouble, right?

you've tried a few times to try and persuade him to stop. to quit, get sober, find a better way of making money. because the chris you fell in love with wasn't this chris, god, he couldn't exactly be more different from how he is right now. but complaining never helped, he always went on some shit like 'hey, don't forget who pays for your shit now. that pretty cami y'got on? yeah, i got you that.'

but chris isn't a bad person, no. he's sweet, nice. he cares for the people around him and screws the people who screw him. your fingers intertwine together as you mindlessly fiddle with them when some girls creep up towards chris to buy from him.

you don't miss the way his lips curl into a sluggish smirk, leaning back into the plush cushions and starting up conversation with them. they are pretty, you have to admit that. you'd be worried he would take the chance to swoop up a pretty girl from the group, but this is chris. he's loyal, and he's stated and shown it multiple times.

you bring your legs up, curling to the side—one on top of the other in your side sitting position as you tug your skirt down gently. your eyes try not to focus on anything in particular, trying to relax and sink into the arm chris has looped around your shoulders as he holds you firmly to his side.

you glance at him when his fingers mindlessly fiddle with the strap of your tanktop, digits tapping on the bare skin of your arm a few times. and then chris slides away from you, hips raising and his hand patting his back pocket. it's only now he spares you a quick look—eyes shifting back to the band of girls in front of him.

one of them was leaning towards him, and you could practically see her tits spilling out from the tight dress she had on. a wad of cash was in her hand, manicured nails grazing chris' hand when he hands her a little baggy of white substance. his tongue clicks against his mouth and you try to ignore the disappointment in you when his hand doesn't fall across your shoulders again.

the lights of the party are blinding and a variety of flashy colors, loud rap music seeming to make your ears ring. your fingers tap against your thigh a few times as you mindlessly draw little hearts on your skin, knowing how much chris hates it when you do that to him. even though he didn't really care at first and even called it 'cute'.

you recall the way many of your own friends told you to just be careful—chris isn't what he seems. he'll use you for something and leave you all alone, or he'll love bomb you then leave one day without any explanation. but that hasn't happened to you yet, and it's been a good few months already. you never have a thought in your head that thinks chris would cheat on you, he just isn't like that.

confusion overtakes your features when you see chris standing up, grinning at that one girl as her friends giggle and shuffle away. you immediately start to sit up, always following chris around and not getting the memo that he was about to leave you to go bang a girl. he spots you about to get up, clearing his throat as a big hand comes to shove your shoulder gently to get you to sit back down. "hey, m'gonna go somewhere for a sec. stay here. a'ight doll?"

you blink at him. what? you dont get what he's about to do, but chris is already starting away with the girl in tow. and you want to follow, because what the fuck? but you sit still, like chris told you to—a feeling of dread filling you when you see him whisper something against the girls' lips and start kissing at her face and neck while dragging her into an empty room.

oh.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns

©eph3merall 2024

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

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[k0nanharv3y]

OKAY I CANNOT LET THIS DIE

Robin Hood AU Part 2

Part 1 of this bullshit

"Hero? Villain? or misunderstood mind?", "Has he done more good for Gotham than its own inhabitants? What Wayne has to say about it", "The reality of the situation; Statistics of the recent attacks on Wayne Enterprise and Gotham City"

Tim didn't read the newspaper, it was boring, he didn't like it and he didn't have time to read the latest gossip from Gotham when he was most likely there. And he didn't need a piece of paper for that, that was contamination, he could get all the information he needed with just one search. So, yeah, Tim didn't read the newspaper

But then Riddle was imprisoned without even knowing it thanks to the newspaper and so Tim set himself the task of checking every single newspaper that ever mentioned him. And damn... Reddit was a thing when it came to twisting things, but this? This is blatant show-telling

Some called him a villain who didn't know how to do his job (in the first cases, really understandable, Tim barely knew what he was doing), but he had never set out to harm Gotham and apparently some people got angry...? Because... because he didn't kill anyone? (Joker doesn't count, he wasn't anybody) ...???. Others dared to lump him in with the Bats (And God bless the spilled coffee he spat out while choking reading that) saying how come; Apparently Tim was seen as a good guy and the explosions and cyber attacks on Wayne Enterprises had not been him but another rogue who was defeated by Tim???. But the others called it "The Evolution of Batman" and refuted his statistics. Batman's way was to go out and beat them until they calmed down, Tim's way was to cut them off at the root (Joker exploding in a building was nothing more than poetry. But the trafficking networks were eradicated by giving legal and stable jobs to those who distributed it, Tim didn't take their lives, not the literal ones at least, Tim changed them)

He finished high school early and dedicated himself to helping Gotham. It wasn't even illegal (stealing from the rich isn't illegal, their mere existence is illegal and unjust) Tim wasn't a villain, the citizens of Gotham seemed to love him just like they loved Batman; and if some building had to be blown up, at least nobody lived there and it was only to piss off the Bats

Batman's attempts to stop him seemed to cease... But Tim was greedy once... just once, and that led him to mess with forces he couldn't control. And then there was a price on his head, and Shiva and Deathstroke were after him. Because Ra's doesn't find it funny that a 14-year-old kid hacks into his systems and steals money to give to the poor. Shiva ended up being kind of... weird? She didn't kill him, but she threatened him that she would sooner or later, when Tim is a real threat to her (Tim learned to fight, thanks Shiva, but fuck it, it hurt) and Slade let him live because...??? I mean, he slit his throat and gave him enough trauma to last a lifetime, but he let him live... Tim doesn't think he's that lucky, this was already playing god

And then Ra's killed his mother

///

The irony is that Tim didn't WANT his mother, of course, she was his mother and he loved her deeply, but... it was like, a love out of responsibility, Tim was a child who was presented with, look, these are your parents and you must love them and respect them because they are your parents. That Janet's death hurt him so much... it was more a matter of pride, Tim didn't want revenge because Ra's killed his mother, he wanted revenge because Ra's killed his mother

And now he wasn't going to stop Gotham from burning. He was going to create the fire for Ra's to burn with whatever it took

If Batman stopped him, he didn't care, Tim had nothing to lose. His mother was dead and Ra's would pay for it

///

This is... actually before Batman's death, but after Damian became Robin, I'm working on this as I write, I don't have anything planned so...

Someone: Oh! Plot Hole!

I throw a brick at them and make sure they don't move anymore

Me: You didn't see anything.

Part 3 because i forgot to mention it

Part 4 i just did it

Part 5 wth am I doing?

Part 6 im actually thinking of making this a fic tho

Part 7.5 cuz it was too long

Part 8 have i told u im Canadian?

[admirationandromantics]

Jazz Bar Evening

I had some fun with this. Honestly, dancing together is so incredibly romantic, you have no idea. (Or you might have, I don't know your lives) I used a bit of creative freedom on this as well. They're in a jazz bar, lighting low, clothing classy and pretty. And Josh got that rich kid thing about him. Aka, he has money, dresses appropriately and knows how to dance. There's very little of those types of men out there, so enjoy this fantasy <3

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

🍋‍🟩 Just a thought, Josh taking reader to a jazz event because he wants another excuse to dance with them. He finds a comfort in dancing and being so close and expressive with someone. Even if they look silly and inexperienced. Ugh to be in love🍷

“Two glasses of red, please” Josh asks, hand outstretched to the bartender. The man nods in reply, putting forth two wine glasses and turning the other direction to fetch the flask. I look over at Josh, the dark blue shirt being rolled up on his forearms. 

“You know, sleeves are made for a reason”

“Well, what if I want to show off these bad boys?” He smiles, flexing his muscles in a theatric manner. I give a small laugh, reaching out and feeling them. His mood immediately shifts, breathing faster and holding still while I examine him. 

“Mhm, are you really proud of these, Washington? They seem kind of… ordinary” I look up, unable to hide my playful smirk as his mouth opens in surprise at my statement. 

“Excuse you, but these arms are more than just a show”

“When were they a show?” 

He hits me, hand going into my side lightly while laughing. I can’t hold it back, that giggle he always manages to make me do. 

“I can tell you what they’re not doing: paying for your drink” 

“Noooo, Josh please!” I whine over dramatically, taking his arm and grazing my fingertips over it. 

“Oh, first name basis now, are we?” he smiles, eyes following the movements. 

“Look at all these big, adoring muscles” 

“I’m not falling for your tricks”

I stop, shoving him away in a playful manner while he keeps laughing. The bartender comes over, pouring both our glasses, a little more than he’s supposed to. I take my glass, swirling it around a little before taking a sip. 

“But we can’t hang out if you don’t pay” I continue, trying to hide my lips behind the glass. The struggle is immense, not bombarding out in laughter. 

“Of course we can, you have a job so you can pay for it” he shrugs, eyeing me up and down. I think he sees the smirk, even though it’s hidden behind the red liquid. I sit myself back a little, making some space between us. 

“I need to create some distance, or else all the other men here will think we’re together”

“And what’s wrong with that”

“If we were together you’d pay for my drink”

“Ahh, that’s true”

I shove myself back beside him, the action small, but still significant. I love being close to him, and a classy place like this? When he looks that good, and the lighting? I need to be near him. 

The bartender comes over again, making us pay for the drink. Josh pays first, his card already out. In the meantime, I reach down in my purse, getting mine out. The bartender types the amount, handing me the machine. As I’m about to tap the card, Josh beats me, using his own and letting the payment get through. I look over surprisingly, waiting for an explanation. 

“Look who decided to be a gentleman” 

“Maybe I’ll ask for something in return” he smirks, putting the card back in his pocket. I give him a small look, trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, but he just keeps smirking, taking a sip of his drink while I watch. 

“You think you can buy me with one glass of wine, Joshy?” 

“I thought you were easy” I give a laugh, his comment a bit on the bolder side. Oh, how dare he. 

“Really, I mean, even without the drink I would’ve said yes, but now…” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You just lost” I smile, taking a sip, feeling the strong fruit on my tongue. 

“Damn you, if I knew that-”

“Then we wouldn’t be here, but probably back at your place” 

The lighting makes it hard to see if anyone’s blushing, though I know that I am. We are used to joking around with each other, but this is the first time I’ve been so up front with him. Maybe he catches the hint? 

“Well, at least I paid for it” he whispers, one hand on the bar table, small veins showing. I study his form. I’ve seen what’s underneath that beautiful shirt, and those black suit pants. He’s gorgeous, and that’s just a fact. But I’ve never gotten to feel him, just see. And that’s usually been when we’ve all been bathing together, either in the jacuzzi at the lodge or swimming in the ocean. 

“I guess you did… still expecting a favour?” 

“Just a dance” 

I look around, the music chill and swingy. But the dance floor is empty. Of course, it’s still early, and people will probably arrive later. 

“Hm, no one is dancing” 

“More room for us” 

“And we’ve not drunken up our drinks” 

“We’ll do that first then” 

“And I don’t know how to dance” 

“I’ll lead you” 

I sigh, leaning backwards against the table, making sure our arms are touching. He’s a smart guy, and usually, if he wants something, he’ll get it. Maybe it’s a rich nepo-baby thing? 

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you” I joke, nudging his arm a little. He just keeps smiling, that small, cozy one, which I honestly adore a lot more than his handsome smirk. 

“Hey, can I buy you something? Maybe top off that glass?” A voice sounds behind me. Before I can turn around, I catch a glimpse of Josh’s face, his mouth falling into a frown, teeth slightly biting his lower lip. He also lets out a low scoff, but it’s almost unnoticeable, and I don’t think the other guy heard it. I turn, meeting the eyes of the stranger. He’s handsome, not my type, but objectively pretty. 

“Sorry, I’m here with someone” I smile back, and he gives a small nod. 

“So, no drink then?” 

A hand slithers around my waist, Josh’s head coming up and resting on my naked shoulder. I almost let out a gasp from the surprise. His lips leave a small kiss on my cheek, causing my eyes to widen, his hand pulling me closer against his front. 

“I’ll be buying her drinks tonight, bro” 

“Oh, okay then, excuse me” He says, tone low and a bit disappointed. He turns on his heel and leaves, walking back to a table with his buddies. I lift my head to meet his face, his eyes already on me. 

“Hm, so I guess people will be trying to buy you drinks either way” he whispers, mouth coming closer to my ear. As if on cue, I lean a bit back on him, feeling his hot breath as he speaks, his arm still holding my body up. Tight. 

“Well, maybe we can do something else to make them stop?” I offer, turning around in his grasp. That knowing small smirk creeps upon his lips again, causing me to bite my tongue, staring a bit too much on them. A finger finds its way to my chin, lifting my head up slightly. 

“My eyes are up here” 

“I know” 

We stare at each other in silence, the only sound being the beautiful jazz music surrounding us. No matter how hard I look at him, how much my gaze shifts from his lips to his eyes, he doesn’t let go. 

“Josh…” 

He grunts, clearing his throat before letting me go. I take a breath. It feels like I’ve forgotten how to breathe during the last minute, chest heaving and spine shivering. Gosh, if he was looking down right now, he’d get a perfect view of my breasts. Just because I was going out with him tonight, I decided not to wear a bra, and since the dress is a little bit skimpy, not much, just a little, the lighting makes them look so good down there. Grababble, if I do say so myself. 

“Drink your wine, and let’s get out there” he says, taking his own glass and dumping it down his throat. I take mine, staring a little at the content before gulping it down, taking several swallows to finish. I carefully place the glass down, a hand meeting my face as I look up. He stared intensely, thumb going to my lips and dragging over the remaining red liquid on them. I watch in awe as he lets me go, hand going up, lips to his thumb, taking that one drop. The action alone makes me shiver, thighs feeling empty and my insides warming up. 

It doesn’t take long for him to drag me to the floor, holding my hand as he swings me around as I’m trying to follow his steps, often missing the beats. We both laugh, hands going everywhere, but always at least one of them interlocked with the other person. He pushes me away, pulls me back, turns me around and feels me up, every action going in sync with the music, always bearing that sweet smile on his lips. One of his hands suddenly drags my thigh up his leg, my dress rolling back to my upper thigh as his fingers draw upwards. I’m holding onto him, faces closing in. 

“Isn’t this a Tango move?” I ask, voice low. 

“Well, don't hurt anyone to try it” he whispers back, breathing heavily into my side. Nose tangling in my hair. He suddenly pushes me back again, making me let out a gasp as I’m spun around, the song abruptly ending with me leaned down, his arm on my back, making sure I don’t fall. 

“You know, if I wasn’t the good-looking gentleman I am today, I might let go right now” he teases, the smirk finding its way back. I automatically hold him harder, my grasps firm. He wouldn’t dare. 

“If I fall, then you’re going down with me” 

“On top? I wouldn’t mind that”

[anxresi]

She's already been punished enough...

...By being part of one the worst shows of all time, dufus.

A few points here, in the order of the OP presented their dubious 'case' (though I suspect this isn't actually how they feel and this is a somewhat disingenuous attempt was to provoke a reaction from a lot of others when they sent this to Reddit, in which case... JOB DONE).

1. Bullying, as bad as it can be, is not a jailable offence. especially the relative mild incidences we've seen in the show (up till S4 that is, which we'll get to later) Next.

2. As every right-minded person knows, this is 'New Chloe' e.g Chloe specifically created by Mr Astruc for the S3 finale onwards which bears no relation to 'Old Chloe'. 'Old Chloe' actually had personality, layers, humanity, humour, was a great super-anti-hero, the stirrings of redemption in her.... 'New Chloe' is just an out-and-out psychopath with no depth to her whatsoever apart from to be as ineptly evil as possible and increasingly embarrass herself with every tortuous appearance so Thomas can get his sick jollies, so this doesn't count. Sorry.

3. See: 2. Also, Zoe shouldn't exist... so, there's that. If you want to know why, please see my other posts... as I am saving up all my ire for something far more important as you'll find out below...

4. Now this is the one that REALLY boils my piss. How can I put this politely... Fuck off, you fucking cunt. Chloe's fucking father ENABLED her fucking behavior for fucking years by fucking throwing his money at the fucking problem instead of paying for the fucking psychological help she clearly fucking well needed and fucking IGNORED everything when her fucking mother regularly left Chloe alone, told her she was fucking worthless, didn't bother celebrating her fucking birthdays, forgot her fucking name time and time again...

I could go on. And you're telling me Andre is the FUCKING victim instead of Chloe, this FUCKING corrupt mayor. this FUCKING waste of space, this FUCKING pathetic excuse of a man who as her FUCKING FATHER could've put his FUCKING foot down at any FUCKING time and simply said "No?" What kind of a fucking 'mature' adult is he, anyway?! I suppose the OP also thinks fucking Gabriel deserved his fucking statue as well, in fact they should've hung fucking garlands of flowers from it whilst someone played fucking panpipes and everybody else fucking danced around. Fuck you.

Also worth noting here that Chloe fucking ADORED her father until the exceedingly unwelcome S4 'reboot' where she suddenly saw him as a fucking walking piggy bank (I won't even mention how they purposefully ruined her relations with Adrien, Sabrina, even her own butler... Chloe can't have any happiness in her life. It simply ISN'T ALLOWED).

Then they have the cheek to let his daughter be 'disowned' by him in the S5 finale and banished to London as if he fucking did nothing wrong in facilitating her attitude whilst failing to defend her against her despicable mother's abuse. (Yes, I said ABUSE I know the creator doesn't view it as such, but he's a fucking moron so what can you do?) Bullshit. Complete and utter undiluted diarrhea dripping from a bull's anal sac... that's what this is. I hope I painted an accurate picture for all of you. Sorry if you were eating.

So, it was supposably a happy ending that Andre got to fucking adopt another man's child without any reprecussions for his past actions, as he embarked on his new career as a fucking film director. What? You think that wasn't ENOUGH punishment for Chloe, OP? You think she should go to fucking jail as well, for DARING to be a child victim of incessant abuse, both in-canon and in-writing? I never thought I'd meet a person who's more radicalised in their blind hatred of Chloe than fucking Mr Astruc, but here we are. I tell you, some people on this exploding planet of ours scare me. Legit.

5. See 2 again. This huge disparity in writing between the two Chloes is getting stupid now, and anyone who can't see the contrast between now and then... I really can't help you. Either take off your Chloe-hating goggles to smell the coffee, or go read someone that agrees with you 100% and won't pop your tiny safe-space bubble with indisputable facts. Goodbye.

6. I think Chloe is more 14... but it doesn't really matter. Still a child, still should be treated as one. Which makes Astruc's obsessive loathing of her even more disturbing... and even more so this dude's.

That's it. This was probably an entirely unnecessary pot-pourri of hot topics I've regurgitated before, but as soon as I saw this article (particularly Pic 4) I just had to jump on my soapbox once more to regale the world about the kind of arrant nonsense I see about Chloe sometimes online, particularly regarding the subject of parental abuse and whether her treatment by the show's narrative was justified (SPOILER: It wasn't, and if you disagree I need you to fuck off RIGHT NOW).

Because if people like me don't defend her and the terrible writing she's been subjected to for the last few seasons (at least she's in good company there though), who will?

Not the person who made her, that's for sure. She may be a fictional character but... I get the feel her situation is similar to a lot of other neglected and mistreated kids out there who lash out at others for obvious reasons. And by handling her arc (if you can even call it that) in this inexcusable way... I don't just think the show has just done her a disservice. I think they've outright destroyed her and the hopes of many others watching.

What a great message to send to every youngster who could relate. I hope the makers are proud of themselves. Fucking idiots.

[fatphobiabusters]

"I don't believe that fat people deserve basic human needs like love, food, or clothes. I think fat people are automatically ugly because I grew up only seeing thin people treated as beautiful in media and society. Because fat people aren't fuckable to me, I tell them to kill themselves and call them ob*se pigs. Which reminds me, the term the medical field uses for fat people, I actually treat it as a slur. I also treat the word 'fat,' the most basic term for a specific human body type, as a taboo insult that you should never, ever call someone. Unless you want to call them ugly or worthless, which I treat 'fat' as a synonym for. I give fat disabled people judging looks because how dare any fat people be disabled. I think fat people should be forced to pay more taxes and to park as far away from a building as possible to force these fat asses to walk. There's countless insulting euphemisms for fat people: fat ass, lard ass, butter ball, diabetty. Oh, that reminds me! I also believe I know the medical records of all fat people and use that to call the over 2 billion fat people on this Earth the dirt underneath my feet. I associate different diseases with fat people, who I hate, so I also put stigma on those diseases. I think it's okay for fat people to pay extra for clothing despite me being a size medium and not having to pay more than people who wear a size extra small. I mock fat people for dancing, walking, running, eating, exercising, swimming, existing, and even breathing! Literally! I laugh when a fat person breathes heavy for even a single second after they walk up a flight of stairs! I support and buy all of the diet culture products that make money off of fat people being viewed as scum. I once saw a fat person on the news talking about how she was enduring food insecurity, and I laughed for a full minute because obviously that fat woman is nothing but the stereotypes I support about fat people and actually overeats. I secretly have a thing for fat women, but I would never dare actually date a fat woman or be with a fat woman in public. That's why I fuck her in private and then pretend she doesn't exist. Whenever I create a character and want to make people know that the character is bad in some way, I make the character fat. I help bully fat people whenever I can. I not only make jokes when fat people die, I also assume every fat person died because they're fat and tell random fat strangers on the internet that they're going to die at age 35. I freely harass fat people because I know not a single person on this Earth will defend them from me, not even progressive people. But no, fat people definitely aren't oppressed. Stop kidding."

How every fatphobic asshole sounds when they tell me fat people aren't oppressed.

-Mod Worthy

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König is Naturally Nerd!König

A lot of people suggest nerd!König (which is essentially regular König in my books) would be into DnD, or Star Wars, or Lego, but I disagree.

Normal and Nerd!König are obsessed with miniature armies. He has little models of airplanes and tanks that he puts on display in his room. He only has two World War models (and even then it's WW1), and those are the planes that Baron von Richthofen flew. Otherwise, he collects medieval minis and paints them.

He creates whole dioramas of them, and they're surprisingly good. He has the money to sink into his hobby, and it fills his time when he's not at work. He fidgets a lot, but he's gotten good at doing fine detail work. They're not award winning, but they're really quite good.

In addition, he's a major reader. If you want to know more about what König reads, check out this post here. If you don't want to read it, the gist of it is that König loves reading and reads all the time. He's probably the type to sniff and say the book was better than the movie. He's right, but he doesn't need to be so snobby about it.

Through the military, he has an extensive knife and gun collection. He can use all of them, sure, but he really doesn't need that many. He used to have only one room dedicated to them, but he's since had to move twice and torn down a wall most recently to make a big enough room for everything. He kinda sucks that way. He really takes up a lot of space.

However, Nerd!König didn't end up joining the military. He instead went into nuclear engineering and earned an excellent living to fund his expensive hobbies. He also ended up having more time to devote to his crafts, which led to...

More under the cut.

Nerd!König is a Snob

König is a pathfinder 2e type of guy. He's that pedantic. He'll have the rule books memorized, and he has links to download the pdfs ready at the flick of a wrist. He's ready to convert you. Your DnD supplies will be absorbed into his Pathfinder 2E.

A big reason he's into Pathfinder 2E is because he was introduced at a young age and so collected the supplies, but when he heard about the Wizards of the Coast scandals he decided he'd use that as his reasoning. He gets up on a soapbox about it whenever he can. He really, really hates Wizards of the Coast. It's a firey rage that burns within.

He also likes Warhammer. He's a disgusting Warhammer lover. He plays a ridiculous Adeptus Mechanicus army that he's painted himself. It's surprisingly good painting, too. Having painted Adeptus Mech before, I'm telling you it's really hard. He makes it looks easy with craft paint and crazy glue. He's disgustingly good at it. I hate him for it. How dare he be so good. He is genuinely a fantastic painter. That said, we saw what happened with the last Austrian painter, so maybe it's a good thing he stuck to painting minis.

Nerd!König also loves to collect ancient weaponry. To make it worse, he actually practises with it and has become pretty decent with it. He's feared among the LARPing community because he's known to be a fearsome competitor. He'd be more well liked if he didn't accidentally break people's wooden shields so often. As it is, he's not fully blacklisted, but he's skating on thin ice. He'd be banned for sure if it weren't for the fact that the forest on his property is amazing for LARPing.

Finally, he's into Renaissance fairs. He goes and does public sword fighting, once again, LARPing. He'll also show off his weaponry collections, and will gladly go on hour long spiels to anyone unfortunate to ask about the history of an item on his table. He is on good terms with the blacksmiths, and he's always having to pay the local seamstress to fix his clothing back in the traditional style. He will also go up to the ferret keeper and play with their ferrets, and then beg you to get some. He just wants a cute little ferret. Can't he have a couple? No, not one! They need playmates. You need at least three.

Either way, Nerd!König is a big silly guy. He's a bit friendlier and gentler than regular König honestly. He also is super passionate about his hobbies. He's so excited to show you his hobbies, and he really wants you to enjoy them too.

Just so you know, all these hobbies are expensive. Very expensive. It's a good thing he's making so much money, because otherwise you'd go bankrupt overnight, because, "Games Workshop released a new edition of the walkers! I need them for my army!"

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Catwoman's new sidekick (dc x dp)

This is very loosely inspired by this prompt. Enjoy the blurb:)

Danny didn’t really like guns. Not the ecto-weapons his parents made, but the actual bullet-filled guns. He knew how to use them, as that was what his parents had based themselves off of to create their own ectoplasm-powered version of it, but he didn’t like them. So when he’d found one not only loaded, but with the safety off in his apartment’s garbage bin, he’d plan to take it and go throw it in the river to make sure nobody would get to use it. Danny wasn’t exactly shocked to see it, this was Gotham after all, but it was a bit of a nasty surprise to say the least. It wasn’t like it could really hurt him anymore, it seemed halfas had a sort of built-in instinct for going intangible (which had explained why the Nasty-Burger-explosion-that-never-happened hadn’t affected him despite being taken completely by surprise).

Not to mention he was already in a bad mood at the news that Vlad was in the city right now for some rich guy nonsense, which Danny was 100% sure meant the fruitloop was going to come by to bother him at some point in the next few days.

“Hello, Daniel,” came Vlad’s voice from behind him as if summoned.

“Get away from me, you creep,” Danny answered, not turning around. Instead, he started walking in the opposite direction.

“Is that anyway to talk to your unckie Vlad?” The man said with his smarmy tone. “And I came by such a long way to come see you.”

“You saw me, now you can leave.” Danny didn’t bother turning his head as Vlad caught up so they were walking side by side.

The billionaire tsked as he looked around. “It’s such a shame you live in such a poor neighbourhood. You know the offer to pay for your tuition is still open.”

“Not in a million years,” Danny answered dryly.

“You’re just as stubborn as my dear Madeleine used to be,” Vlad sighed and Danny felt the disgust twist his features into a grimace.

“Still being a creepy disgusting old loner, Vlad?” Danny snarked. “How many cats are you on, number 5?”

There was flash of anger in the older man’s eye before he smirked. “And how is dear Danielle these days, it’s been so long since she came by. I think she’ll be due for another meltdown soon.”

On impulse, Danny raised the gun, knowing full well the man would go intangible faster than any bullet and pointed it at Vlad. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“Oh please, Daniel,” Vlad scoffed. “What are you going to do, shoot me?”

“Maybe,” Danny retorted.

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Vlad dismissed.

“Might make me feel better,” Danny said even as he lowered the gun a bit, knowing it wouldn’t do anything.

Vlad knew this just as well, and he sneered before turning his back to Danny and walking away with a parting shot. “I always get what I want, Daniel. Whether it’s through you or her.”

The gun that Danny had lowered slightly now came back up. He was so tempted to empty the stupid thing at Vlad, no matter if it would all pass through him. Before he could do anything though, a voice from above sounded.

“He’s not worth it, kid.”

Danny looked up to find the masked face of Catwoman peering down on him.

“He deserves worse than this,” Danny said, mind still on the temptation of shooting at Vlad’s intangible back. This was a deserted part of the city, it wasn’t like it would hurt anyone else.

“I promise there are better ways to make him pay,” Catwoman answered.

Danny scoffed bitterly. “Vlad’s so rich, he can pay off anyone and cover up any scandal I could think of.” And if money didn’t work, there was always straight-up overshadowing innocent bystanders.

The masked woman hesitated for a while before she called down determinately. “Look, get rid of the gun, and I promise I’ll help you make him pay.”

“Really?” Danny wasn’t too sure what that entailed but anything that would hinder Vlad was a go for him. “You promise?”

“I do,” she stated with conviction. “But you have to lose the gun.”

“Yeah, ok,” Danny said. He was going to do it anyways, but if she wanted it gone even faster, Danny wasn’t going to argue.

Selina watched as her new sidekick dropped off the gun into the river. It fell in with a splash that had something in her curling comfortably. Maybe Bruce was really rubbing off on her if she was picking up strays

But, Selina had a good feeling about this. Talking a kid out of murder had been how Batman had gotten his first Robin, after all.

[couchpotatoaniki]

An Annoying Kind of Pretty

Pairing: College Rival!Jungkook x College!Reader (British college, so basically senior year in highschool--they're 18) Word count: 4k+ Tags: mega fluff, light swearing, mentions of very mild violence (banter...maybe), mentions of clowns, reader is terrified of them, honestly, just cute shit, and they're being idiots A/N: I'm in the middle of reading Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert and this just sprung to mind soooooooo yeah

No matter how much you scrub, you can't get this darn plate clean. At this point, you're ready to smash it to pieces so you don't have to spend another second on it. But, alas, this is not your dish and therefore dish-smashing rights are revoked. A true travesty, considering how ugly the damn thing looks anyway. Society would be better off without it.

But you scrub, scrub, scr--"Are you done?" A deep voice rumbles behind you. Involuntarily, your eyes close to hide the annoyance flickering through them, lest he somehow sees through the obscured reflection of the kitchen window. This time you've spent together has taught you he's almost decent at guessing body language (almost--he's still otherwise a useless male).

Gosh, if only you could destroy the plate and take a shard to one of his annoyingly pretty brown eyes. Honestly, the fact that a man like him has such wonderful features is what you'd consider to be a crime that nature has committed.

"What does it look like?" Yeah, maybe you should relax your jaw before your teeth grind to dust. Your dentist would have a heartattack if she saw the stress they've put them under lately (she likes to talk about them like they're some separate entity, a bit odd but she's sweet and likes to rant about her cats so you can happily bare it).

"Looks like you're slacking off."

Excuse me? "Maybe I'd be more efficient if you didn't leave your dishes to grow a mini ecosystem in your kitchen. You're likely worshiped as a god by bacteria since you created them their own little world."

He rolls his eyes. This you can't see through the haze of his reflection on the slightly filthy window but you've somehow grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Like a shitty superpower.

"Don't be so dra--"

"If you dare say 'dramatic', the next thing I'll be cleaning are your insides off the floor and countertops."

His reflection raises a hand in mock surrender. "Touché. But for your information, I don't live here."

This makes you turn around, pinning him with a glare. "If you don't live here, which ogre or troll does?"

"My brother. But he's been... ah, what's the word--" he waves his hand in a circular motion with his eyes closed, only to open again at the snap of his fingers--"backpacking across mainland Europe for past three months."

A huff leaves your nose as you return to the gruelling task at hand. You're going to need a shower after this, maybe two, just to make sure you don't catch the Black Plague or some other disease that would trigger another pandemic. "Then why am I here?"

"Because you owe me, remember?"

"Yes, you--not your brother that can't even remember to put away his dishes before he goes on stupidly basic holidays."

"'Stupidly basic'?" Jungkook's frame hobbles into the corner of your eye as he mocks you with a smirk. Darn him and his unusually large (and unfortunately well sculpted) build. A disgustingly natural beauty that demands attention, but you'd rather poke your eye repeatedly than admit that to him lest his cocky smirk and big head grow more than it already has.

Yet, you can't help a glance in his direction. Props to you though, your face managed to not betray your soul and remained in it's usual disinterested state.

"If I had a penny for every time I've heard someone backpacking across Europe, I'd be so rich I wouldn't have to pay you back with my services."

"Considering you sprained my wrist and my ankle, I'd request both payment in money and services."

The thought of the Incidents sent and involuntary shudder down your spine. About two weeks ago, you were minding your own business in the library, one thing led to another and long story short, you accidently pushed the usually well-balanced hulking man onto the hardwood floor and his hand landed at a funky angle. Less than 72 hours had passed and various shenanigans ensued involving 12 glue sticks, streamers, a helium tank, and an unwanted clown roaming the gymnasium which led to his second trip to Accident and Emergency.

In all fairness, he shouldn't have even been there helping to set up the farewell assembly for the final years in the first place. His fault, really, but he wouldn't hear of it since you did crash into him as you were running away from a definite (maybe) psycho killer.

"How many times do I have to apologise," you huff.

His finger taps his chin in mock thought. "Preferably forever, seeing as though I am having to limit my activities while it's the summer holidays before we go off to uni. But I suppose having you as my little servant until I get better is decent enough."

You send him another glare before carrying on. Almost spotless, this dish. "This is abuse of power."

He raised his cast as well as a deadpanned expression onto his face. "And this was just regular abuse."

"It was self-defence."

"Against me or the very innocent clown you claimed was 'chasing' you?"

"Both. And he was chasing me. I was terrified."

"Remind me when your birthday is?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason. Certainly not a clown-related one for retaliation. None whatsoever."

Your head turns so quickly to him that it almost gives you whiplash. "You dare."

"We'll just have to see."

Huffing, you finish up the last of the dishes, with Jungkook sat on the countertop beside yours (with a bit of difficulty). Guilt begins to bleed out of your heart and pool into a warmth in your cheeks as you once more mumble an apology to him, the dishes suddenly looking more appealing for your eyes to land on. "I... I really am sorry, though."

He sighs--as he usually does when you once more feel horrible about the state he is in and try to voice it. "Stop that."

For the millionth time, you purse your lips, ready to let a few beats of silence pass before you could say something to return it back to that annoyingly fun hateful banter than the heavy and suffocating air that follows an apology. Jungkook, however, did not care for your mental plans (you don't really think he cares about much of anything besides his grades, friends, and snacks like a typical man).

"Can I... admit something to you? So, like, Truce?"

"...Truce." You reach out for a cloth to wipe anything left on the countertop, but ears keenly remained on him.

"I'm kinda... glad you fucked up my arm." You send him an incredulous look, to which he blurts in response, "don't get me wrong, it hurts like shit and I'm no masochist, but having you here doing my bidding--" his lips quirked at the sight of you murderous glare, "--and keeping me company is... nice."

"...'Nice'." The word feels funny to your ears as you hear it, and even funnier when you speak it.

"Yes, nice." His feet swing a little, his head hanging a little sheepishly. "My friends are cool and all, but you're, like, really fun to piss off." Okay, you might actually end up killing him. "And we don't really hang out all that often during the holidays. Plus, you've got a different vibe to you that I think is... nice--" There's that fucking word again, how on earth did he get higher marks than you in English? "--and my parents work a lot regardless so having you as company is, I suppose, ni--"

"Get a grip, dude." Your eyes roll by themselves. "You're rambling."

His lips pout and his cheeks puff to make a ridiculous (yet adorable) face of a child being lightly scolded for no reason. "You said Truce."

"I'm hearing you out, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but you're still being mean."

"Boo-hoo." He look up at you and his narrowed eyes make you retract your statement. "I mean, sorry. Carry on."

"That's it."

"What's 'it'?"

"The thing I wanted to tell you."

"What thing?"

"You know...the thing."

"You spewed a lot of crap in that short frame of time, I truly have no idea what you're talking about."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed once more, this time in suspicion. "You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't." It's pitiful to say that your face is losing the battle to keep your smile away, which ultimately makes him gasp and point accusingly towards you.

"Yes, you do, you egg."

"Going for the Shakespearean insults? Wow, I must've really ticked you off," you laugh.

Lucky for you, the nearest thing to him was an almost-finished kitchen roll, otherwise he would've landed you in A&E too from his well-aimed throw to your forearm.

"I'm trying to be sincere." His voice is at that whiney pitch he uses when he's frustrated but not enough to care about it. He tends to only use it around his friends, but the more hellish (a potential exaggeration) time you spend with each other, the easier it slips out of him.

"Stop saying 'nice' like someone's pulling it out of your arse and not in a fun way."

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?! That I think your wonderful and funny and interesting and I like it when we spend time together!"

You try not to let the admission show up in your expression, not when it's making your heart race a mile a minute. "I mean, yeah. Don't stop on my account, keep telling me how you think I'm the most amazing person on the planet and you worship the ground I walk on, please."

He rolls his eyes and smiles in that adorable shy why which tells you that he knows exactly what you're trying to do and appreciates the way you relieve the tension. "Jesus, even when you take the piss out of me you still say 'please' in a way that makes me want to..." he trails off, then sighs. "Nevermind, ignore me."

Oh no, you're not going to let it go that easily. "Hard to do when your pig-headed ego takes up half the room." You take your gloves off--making a mental note to burn them in the incinerator for all they've had to deal with today (it's a mercy, really)--and turn towards him to give your full undivided attention. As if that would make it any easier for him to speak. "Go on, please."

He rolls his eyes again, trying even harder to hide his smile but it's fails just as easily. "Stop it."

"Stop what? Could you tell me, please?" Your head cocks to the side and your eyes challenge him in a teasing sort of way.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N. I don't know how I'm going to survive uni with you," he laughs, but the way he looks back at you feels a little too fond.

It takes a second to process what he just said. "Um, what?"

"What?"

"You said... wait, are we going to the same uni?!"

"Um, yeah? We got into the same uni."

Shock takes ever your expression for a moment. "You remember which uni I applied to?"

He looks at you incredulously. "Yeah, of course I remember. And don't be so damn humble about your exam results, I know for a fact we're both getting in."

You take a second to find a response in your head, which seems momentarily empty except for that one phrase 'of course I remember.' "Well, that's beside the point." Jungkook raises a brow at you, not buying it but willing to shelf the matter for now. "What did you mean by all that earlier?"

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I have no idea what you mean."

"No no, you can't get out of it that easily."

"I think I can."

You take a few steps to his side and try to perch yourself up on the side of the counter next to him. He doesn't say anything as he helps you up with his good hand wrapped around your waist--and neither do you in case the combustion of heat in your body will expel flames out of your mouth the second you open it, right for your rival to see. "You're infuriating, you know that right?"

"Really? Haven't heard you say it before."

"Shut up," you chuckle, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own.

"Never. I know how much you love my snark, even if you don't admit it," he grins in return, looking at you in a way that makes your insides turn and twist. God you didn't think you could hate his stupid face even more than you do now (or something like that).

Then there comes a moment where everything went still. You think it's slightly unfair that this boy is able to bend people to his will with his looks and charm, and now apparently he can bend time too. Okay, maybe in this instance it doesn't feel as bad because you strangely don't mind having time suspended when he's there with you.

Those brown eyes flicker down to your lips so quickly you wouldn't have caught it had you not been intently gazing at him too. Rushes of heat fill every inch of your body, and to be honest, you don't know how to respond to it.

Times like these are few between you two, mostly because most of your interactions happen where there's a number of people around. But when it's just the two of you...

It feels slightly dangerous, but in a warm, comforting way that's so addictive you get a little scared of how much you don't want it to end. And also how his lips don't look as repulsive to press your own again as much as they usually do.

Damn him and his witchery.

"Anything else you want me to do?"

He raises a brow. "I want you to do a lot of things, you're gonna have to be more specific."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I mean, any cleaning up you needed me to do for your unhygienic brother?"

"Ah... no. The dishes were the main thing."

"Okay..." Silence stretches around the two of you until you find enough boldness within you to break it. "What were the other things?"

"What other things?"

"That you wanted me to do."

"Uh, I think you might fracture my balls too if I said them."

"Coward."

The corner of his lips curve. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

"Wow, I didn't think you knew it existed since you tend to cross it a lot."

"Har har," he deadpans, making you smile.

Your hands run over your thighs, a nervous tick you have that you have no doubt he's clocked onto by the way his good hand reaches out to squeeze one of them gently. Your hand, that is, though a corner of your traitorous mind that's steadily becoming louder over the past couple of weeks the longer you spend time with him thinks that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it was your thigh instead. It's certainly big enough and you've seen the way he handles modelling clay for his art homework. There's no doubt he'd be able to relieve the tension of the muscles there. Or anywhere else--ah, no. Nope. Absolutely not.

"Sometimes I kinda kick myself for doing this deal with you." At your quizzical look, he clears his throat. "Makes it harder to ignore you when you're right with me for a good chunk of the day."

"You couldn't ignore me even if you tried."

He snorts. "Tired and proven."

Your brows scrunch, though your heart still beats against your chest. "What, really? You've tried to ignore me? Damn. Here I was hoping it would've worked out."

"Oh, I tried a few years ago, I think? Closer to when we first met. But unfortunately, you're hard to ignore."

Mockingly, you straighten you back and lift your head up. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all."

His smile is a bit weaker this time. "Yeah... Practically impossible to keep my mind off you."

Silence flows once more for a moment or two and you realise his hands is still wrapped around yours. "You know I tried too...in the beginning. Unfortunately, that didn't last long either."

His brow quicks. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all?"

"The opposite, actually. You were too dumb and ugly not to. Out of pity, really." From your teasing expression, he knows that he was right.

"Riiiiight, 'pity'. We'll go for that blatant lie if you want to save face."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I think you do."

"I think I don't."

You don't realise until now how close your faces have gotten, able to feel the soft gentle breaths against your lips from his. It feels so difficult to maintain the distance but even more so to move closer to further.

"When you asked me what I meant by all that... ask me again."

"What?"

"Ask me what I meant by everything I said before."

You've been sensing this coming for a while now, longer than whatever time you've spent together in his brother's now-clean kitchen (thanks to you). Like the sky is falling, but you can't seem to look away from it.

"What did you mean?"

Jungkook's tongue peeks out to run along his bottom lip. "I meant that I... I think you're amazing, potentially out of my league--"

"--definitely out of your league--" Definitely what you would consider a lie because look at him and his social skills and his grades and passion and whatnot.

"--and so damn sweet and kind."

"Did you not just hear me call myself out of your league? Or pay attention to most of our conversations in general."

He sends a questioning look to you, as if he can see through your bullshit. "I think we both know you don't think that--for some stupid reason, because you actually are out of my league."

"Don't be humble, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Just truthful. And the truth is, I find it hard to be around you and not fall for you. I see the person you are when you let your guard down with people you care about and how annoyingly well you follow that moral compass of yours even if you use fancy mean words to distract everyone else."

You snort. "If only you heard my thoughts about you while I was doing the dishes. Maiming was not off the list."

He tried to bite back a laugh. "Given the condition of those dishes, I would give you a free pass for homicide."

"Good thing your teen boy-genes haven't totally overtaken your common sense of hygiene."

"I think we can both agree we're growing out of the 'teen' bit of our lives."

"Nope," you deny quickly, waving your hand out as if to undo what he just said. "I'd like to stick my head in the sand and forget about how quickly life is moving into adulthood until it hits me like a train--"

"--or a clown--"

"--thank you very much," you end tightly, sending him a light-hearted glare.

"As I was saying," he continues, amusement lighting up his face, "it's hard not to want to kiss you at times."

"Even when I'm mouthing off to you?"

"Especially when you're mouthing off."

Even though you were expecting it, it takes a minute to process. "Oh."

"Yes, 'ohhhhh'," he mocks, nudging you with a teasing smirk.

"That must've been annoying in class then."

"Very," he nods solemnly. "There were times I wanted to throw caution to the wind and traumatise everyone."

"From the shit some of my friends say, I don't think people would be that shocked if you'd kiss me."

"Huh, maybe you're not as airheaded as you make yourself out to be."

"Rude," you mumble. "I pay attention. I just tend to...second guess."

"I think my feelings for you were a bit obvious. I mean, I think I could've survived without having you be at my beck and call this summer but I said yes anyway."

"Manipulative bastard."

"Anything for you," he sends a cheesy grin your way, making you laugh at the sudden and very inconvenient butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

"'Anything'?"

"Okay, from that tone, I can tell you're imagining something horrifying so let me change that to 'anything within reason'."

"Coward."

"You are slightly terrifying."

"Why, thank you," you smile, and he smiles too with that buttery warm look of fondness again before he leans in slowly, giving you enough time to move away. But when you don't, he pressed his lips against yours and fucking hell it's the softest thing you've ever felt.

You don't know how long it takes for the kiss to break but even breathless you still miss the warm softness against your mouth. And apparently he felt the same because it takes very little time for him to capture your lips again, untangling his hand from yours to cup the side of your jaw, keeping you in place--not like it was possible for you to leave his addictive taste anyway, it might take dark magic for that to happen.

Maybe something even more potent, when his tongue slips its way past your lips and you find that he's stolen every single thought that occupied your mind. Again, time slips away until you're lungs are burning from the lack of air and you both pull away--though not too far from one another.

"So," he says breathless.

"So," you repeat in the same manner, mind still a little fuzzy.

"That was... something."

"Good something or bad something?"

"I don't think 'good' is a strong enough word I want to use." You hum in agreement, and reluctantly pull a little further away, his hand dropping back down onto yours. He looks at you curiously. "So..."

"So..."

"Would I be too soon if I asked you to take pity on a poor simp like me and be mine?"

"Hmmm," you hum in thought. "Given your performance, I'm inclined to accept."

"I can upgrade you from being my reluctant servant to my reluctant lover." He wiggles his borrows and you groan.

"With a romantic declaration like that, I find it hard not to accept," you deadpan, before sighing and leaning against his shoulder. You want to bottle up that sound up and listen to it until you get sick of it--which you have a sneaking suspicion is about as likely as the sun imploding in your lifetime.

"Would you let me continue to wreak havoc on your life?"

"Naturally."

"Then yes. I accept." He raises a brow expectantly and you clock on to what he's waiting for. "I'm not saying it."

"Say it."

"No."

"Please?"

"I take back my answer."

"No backsies."

"What, are you five years old or something?"

"Just say it! Say you'll be my lover."

"If you manage to make this relationship last for 50 years, then I will."

He huffs, leaning his head on top of yours, fingers linking with yours. "I suppose I can agree with that. I'll keep a note of it in my calendar."

"How unusually organised of you."

"Like I said, I'd do anything for you."

"Within reason, of course."

"Of course. Doesn't need to be logical reason, just reason."

"Good to know. Now, let's get out of your brother's place. I feel all the germs crawling all over me and need an extra hot shower--maybe two--to feel even remotely clean after that ordeal."

He laughs as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. "Yeah, okay, we can do that. Though I hoped you reminded me before I kissed you."

"You just did again after I told you, dumbass."

"In my defence, I did tell you it was hard not to. If I die of some unknown disease, I blame on you." You roll your eyes with a smile as the two of you hop off the counter and make your way out, hands still clasped together.

[drunkwhenimadethis]

I was confessing my absurd fears to my bf with things along the lines of being betrayed or him finding other women sexually attractive and asked if he had any similar fears. He said he did, and it was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger. I have always refused monetary gifts and him paying for things. However I’ve been staying with him for three months after he got me kicked out of my last rooming house because Im in college and couldn’t find a place quick enough, and was extremely adamant about it but he insisted. We’ve been together for almost a year. He said that the thought of me using him for money is recurring, but he’s unemployed and his parents pay for everything besides his groceries. What do I make of this? It’s really offput me that he thinks of me this way

Disclaimer I love to remember that the English “advice” comes from the Latin “videre” to see so if I give you this advice it is not a prescription, it is only my way of looking at things in this moment

I think one thing I would like to point out is that you wrote: “It was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger.” There are a million ways of interpreting a single statement made by someone that we care about, and since so much of life creation begins with storytelling in the mind, you want to be quite meticulous about the interpretations that you align with and carry forward. I don’t think that “Essentially: I am a gold digger” makes the most sense logically nor in terms of experiencing what you want, which I assume is love, commitment, trust, and closeness

Why essentially are you a gold digger? Did he say that or did he say that he has an absurd fear that you might be with him for reasons other than who he himself is? “Money” —the word—and its associations make us react emotionally and indignantly “How dare you!!!!” but he said the same thing that you said, he shared the fear he has that maybe he alone is not enough for you

When you shared that you’re fearful of him being attracted to other women, did he say that essentially you are calling him a dishonest whore with no dick discipline? Would that make sense to you if he reacted that way or would you feel like hmm, this man is really making my fears about himself?

Your fears are yours and yours alone

I am guilty of wanting the perfect words or actions to assuage me but it never works out that way. You need to go into yourself and pour love on your fears and kill them

He can tell you everything you want to hear and then what happens when he’s out of sight?

What happens if he has to leave the country? What happens if you can’t have eyes on him?

Are we doomed to constantly revert back to fear?

See yourself as the only one 

Don’t entertain competition in your mind

Don’t dwell on these fears. Your subconscious can’t reason with you

Remove the negative imaginary conversations—not only are they a waste of time, they are by nature of reality active forces 

Be happy for him that his family takes care of him, not everyone gets that and it’s good

Imagine he will take care of you like his family taught him to. Imagine sturdiness and dependability. Imagine better than what you know

Wish him the best on his job search, remove safety-seeking in the form of judgment

You are deserving and you’re allowed to accept gifts from your boyfriend. Work on this asap, I think there's something in you that just doesn't feel worth it and you can't outrun that and nobody can appease that for long

And don't tell yourself that he got you kicked out of your last rooming house, even if it seems true. If you can choose any belief and create life with it, since you’re creating even when you’re not consciously aware that you’re doing so, why don’t you choose something that serves you both more? Why not tell yourself that the universe is conspiring to bring you closer to each other?

Loving and fearless! Avanti!

“The beautiful idea you awaken in yourself shall not fail to arouse its affinity in others.”

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 1: Kemal, the janitor

There was a lot at stake for Patrick. Actually, it was about everything. He had invested an incredible amount of time and money in preparing for this appointment. He had to be successful. And he would be successful. His idea was brilliant. His preparation was excellent. He took a deep breath. The projector projected the image of a young athletic man onto the wall. The young man was obviously a janitor or something. The young man was made of plastic. And a small army of young athletic men made of plastic, one of whom was currently having an image projected onto the wall, stood on the table in front of Patrick.

"Gentlemen, the Barbie movie gives your product a tailwind that will open up completely new markets. Barbie and Ken have become socially acceptable. And I'm convinced that this offers unimagined opportunities for marketing Ken in particular"

It seems to be going well. The Head of Product Management reached for the janitor. And turned it in his hand.

"Whereas in the past, gay men never dared to buy a Ken doll without lying about it being for their little niece, today hundreds of thousands of customers with purchasing power can imagine having a Ken doll on the shelf in their bedroom. But these customers also need Kens that serve stereotypes other than the Malibu boy."

A young man, who looked a bit like Malibu Ken himself, smiled as he reached for the doll, which was dressed like a British redneck. Only in pink. It went really well!

"As well as new Kens, which cover current popular gay fetishes, we should also take into account the fact that Barbie is now a manager or a lawyer. So Ken should also be allowed to be a janitor or a garbage man. Especially as this also appeals to potential customers' fetishes."

A member of the controlling department took the figure of the soccer player in his hand. Patrick seized the opportunity immediately. He switched to the foil with the Germanic-looking Ken, who was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and had tattoos on one arm and one leg.

"With the European Football Championship in Germany this year, we have a major event that we can also exploit without paying license fees. We can place footballers, soccer fans and, as the epitome of masculinity, soccer hooligans. Everything that has to do with soccer this year…".

The head of product management cleared his throat. "May I interrupt for a moment?" he asked. Patrick nodded at him with a winning smile. "If you want my opinion, pack up your gay shit right now and leave the building. I didn't want this movie and I hate it. And the reason is that I feared excesses like this. I don't want a Ken who dresses like a faggot or a right-wing hooligan. For fuck's sake, does the prototype bodybuilder actually have steroid acne on his shoulders? Nobody wants to see that. And I certainly don't want to see it. Thank you for your efforts. But please leave. Go quickly and go far!"

Patrick stood open-mouthed in front of the screen with his presentation for a few seconds. Then he packed up without a word. He stuffed his artistically created dolls into a bag, put the computer in his laptop bag and left the room. He was on the verge of tears. He stuffed the bag with the dolls into the nearest garbage can. And then he left the building. Let Ken and Barbie choke you to death. Let them die of their fantasies. Anyone who even looked at Ken should become his fucking brainless image. How could he have thought he could make his fortune with these fucking figures? Never again!

There was an awkward silence in the meeting room. Not everyone present shared their boss's opinion. But no one dared to disagree. The two lucky ones who had a figurine in their hands discreetly slipped it into their jacket pocket. The head of product management took the janitor's Ken, stood up and said that he wanted to discuss this perversity with the legal department tomorrow.

It was mid-June. It didn't get dark until very late. Maybe that's why he hadn't even noticed how late it was. It was definitely time to call it a day. Where had that damn doll gone? He had it here on his desk… It was just too late, he was tired. But before he left, he had to go to the toilet. Damn it, he had to add toilet paper. And empty the garbage can. The snobs who were allowed to use the boardroom toilet often behaved like the ultimate barbarians. But it felt good to piss here. He would never get the privilege of doing it officially. But at this time of day? Who was going to forbid him?

The cleaning crew wouldn't be here for a few hours. He wiped over the urinals and washbasins with a few used paper towels. It was time to call it a day. But on the way out he could empty a few of the garbage cans along the way. Normally, he didn't pay attention to the contents of the garbage cans. Mostly boring papers. He assumed that the important stuff went into the shredding containers. There was something in one of the garbage cans on the conference floor that didn't belong there. Dolls. Various dolls that looked like Ken. In cool clothes. He'd never seen them like that before. Who threw something like that away? He packed it up once. It couldn't do any harm. Maybe he could sell the dolls…

Yes, he didn't have much to do with the blond Ken who stuck his mop in a pink cleaning bucket. But Kemal had even less to do with the powerful head of product management. He didn't want to deal with that kind of shit. He was here to service the air conditioning, replace light bulbs and sometimes fix faults in the elevator. It was a shitty job. But someone had to do it.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 6

Prompt: Meal/Food

Words: 1000~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

I gave you short and sad yesterday, but today you get short and sweet!

I don't know if y'all have seen that video of the soldiers getting yelled at for ordering pizza delivered to their camp, or that post about the lady that grew up way out in the country and only got ice-cream from a truck when it got very very lost. but this entry is inspired by both of those.

Enjoy!

Soap was slumped into the couch in the officer’s recreation room, watching Gaz swear at the telly as he ran his horse into the train for the umpteenth time and had to restart the mission again. Between Gaz fervently damning all of John Marston’s ancestors and the secondhand xbox 360 doing its best impression of an overboiling pot, the sounds of an escalating commotion beyond the door was almost completely negligible, and Soap was willing to play deaf to the few shouts that eked their way in. 

What he couldn’t ignore was Price busting in through the door muttering about idiotic fools. Now Price muttering to himself was perfectly normal, par for the course, nothing to take note of, what was decidedly abnormal was the Fab ice lolly that was dripping over his fingers while he did it. 

“Cap?” Soap’s vaguely disturbed truncated question stole Gaz’s attention away from shooting the train goers and, upon turning around, he too was immediately captivated by the incongruent sight of Captain John Price glaring at them while struggling to contain a rapidly liquifying lolly. 

“While on gate duty, Private Johnson dared Private Gilligan to stop an ice-cream van that was going by and the fucker actually did it. The front’s a madhouse.” Price reluctantly gruffed out to the two goggle eyed Sergeants staring him down. 

In the next moment Price was alone in the room with a screen heralding 'DEAD' in bold red letters. 

Gaz and Soap shoved at each other as they raced through the halls to the front of the base, joining a crush of other like minded soldiers. True to Price’s word the front gates were pure mayhem, save for the strangely orderly queue leading up to the Mr Softee van proper. Every soul with any kind of rank was abusing it to their best advantage to force every other unlucky sod to stand down and move back in the queue. Soap and Gaz were in luck as talking to the older lady leaning out of the van’s window was Warrant Officer Evans. The Sergeants sidled up to the queue and followed their fellow’s leads by staring down Corporal Winslow until she obediently let them cut in front of her. Evans walked away from the van with a cherry screwball and the Sergeants stepped up to the window.

“I’ve only one cone left, lads,” The woman running the van warned them, leaning down and speaking up to be heard over the orderly chaos behind them and the tinny repeating jingle blaring from the top of the van, Gaz shot a possessive look at Soap and the Scot waved him on.

“Could I get a ninety-nine flake, please?”  Gaz got a smile for his nice manners and the woman turned to Soap,

“And for you, Lovie?” Her voice was kindly, but blunt with a no-nonsense manner,

“Ah’ll ha’e an oyster delight, an’ a strawberry swirl wi’ caramel sauce in a doubled cup wi’ an extra spoon, please.” Soap answered, feeling like he now knew why the van’s queue was so orderly. Likely the woman, Florence, her name tag read, had just refused to serve anyone that hadn’t politely queued up. 

“Lovely,” Florence bustled about in the van, handing the treats out the window as she finished them, “That’ll be nine pound fifty,”

Before Soap could think through how best to juggle his ice-creams into one hand to dig his wallet out of his pockets, Gaz had already paid and casually walked away, licking at his cone and casting smug looks back at Soap as he scrambled to catch up. 

“Ye didnae ha’e tae pay, Ky,” Soap complained, “Ah’ve mah own money,”

“Then be faster, Tav,” Gaz teased, “I’m a tenner poorer now, I’ll be out on the streets by Monday, livin’ out of a box.” 

“Get tae fuck, ye loony. Least ye’d ha’e y’ur own room” Soap laughed,

“You’ve a good point," Gaz nodded along, "Could be worse. Could be shared barracks,”

Soap felt something cold slither over his fingers and picked up his pace with a curse, the ice-cream was melting in sticky trails over the sides of its wrappings.

Why did the running track have to be so far away. 

With Gaz jogging amiably along in his wake, Soap hustled over to where Ghost was shouting constructive abuse at the rookies panting their way around the course.

“L.T! Ah got ye some’hing,” Soap smiled as Ghost’s lovely calf brown eyes swung their glare unto him, passing over the oyster delight and peaceably ignoring his Lieutenant’s unchanged expression of flat ire. 

He pulled the extra cup off the bottom of his and extracted the second spoon from his strawberry swirl, popping it into his mouth to clean the taint of caramel off it, then handing both over to Ghost. 

Ghost extracted his oyster delight from the napkins mummifying it and dumped it into the bowl, stabbing the oddly flat spoon through an edge to make sure the utensil wouldn't fall out while he one handedly rolled his balaclava up past his nose. All this being accomplished in an unwavering deadpan manner. 

Soap watched Ghost take his first spoonful of ice-cream, then started in on his own. Getting a kick out of the grabbag of baffled, jealous, or resigned expressions that warped the rookies faces as they paced by them and caught sight of their superiour’s new preoccupation. He knew that it would take Ghost a good ten minutes to finish his treat, his teeth too sensitive to the cold to eat it any faster. Unlike Gaz, who had scarfed his and was now panting his way through a self-inflicted ice-cream headache. 

“Thanks, Johnny.” Ghost’s quiet rumble whipped Soap’s attention away from Sideshow Garrick and the Scot beamed up at him.

“O’ course L.T! Was nae bother, dinnae fash yersel’,” Soap assured with a smile, bumping his shoulder against Ghost’s, 

“Of course it wasn’t a bother,” Gaz griped, “I paid for it!”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at Gaz, then faced front again repeating, “Thanks, Johnny,” in the flattest tone he could manage. Carefully hiding the smile that hooked at the corners of his mouth when Gaz’s exaggerated spluttering sent Johnny cackling.

Thank You for Reading!

This one also required an absurd amount of research as I tried to figure out what the hell British ice-cream trucks could feasibly sell, and if scots have some slang word for them, they do. They apparently call an ice-cream cone a 'pokey hat'. A delightful discovery that I had to share as it didn't make it into the story.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

@ doting husband Bruce I vote scare the parents. Go ham. Scare the shit out of them so they'll never bother her again. I support this course of action.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Be prepared to call the police," he said calmly. "This might get messy."

"Sir-"

"I will not have my wife uncomfortable in her own home. And I won't have her spoken to like that. By anyone."

"I wasn't going to tell you not to," he sniffed, "I was going to ask where I might find Mrs. Wayne now."

"With Dick. They're in the kitchen... It was furthest away from here."

"A woman of incredible judgment," Alfred said exhaling slowly. You'd told Dick that they wouldn't be back for a long time- and to a little boy, a week might qualify. But, if it didn't the fact that you were with him might keep him from worrying. or thinking that you couldn't keep your word. He was given to understand you'd been working very hard to gain that trust. And he turned to go and find you- and make sure that the pair of you weren't making too much of a mess.

______________

"Where is our daughter-"

"Enough," Bruce barked. Waving their words away with an impetuous gesture. Ignoring the impending hysterics from your mother playing the wounded martyr and the bluff and bluster from your father.

He'd had a week to do his homework. And you weren't the only one that knew how to find what you needed in this house. And what he found only made this easier. A week ago, when you'd sobbed against his chest, he'd been willing to stay out of it. He'd been willing to back whatever play you were going to make- trusting you to protect Dick.

But, when he'd leaned against a door and skeletons had fallen out. Well. That changed things.

"Step foot on this property, come to her office, call her phone, email her- send a carrier pigeon for christ's sake and I will expose every. single. thing. You've ever done."

"We've never-"

"Tax evasion. Stealing your daughter's identity to take out lines of credit... No wonder her interest rates for her loans were so high. Taking money from her to pay for bills and home repair and spending it at the casinos?"

"How dare-"

"Try me. I'll create a legal snarl even Y/N can't get you out of. Just be thankful she's a kinder person than I am. She could have taken you to court at any time for damages of somewhere over 30 grand."

"Can we at least talk to-"

"If she ever decides to speak to you again I won't stop her. But no. You won't be speaking with her today. She's spending time with our son."

He's not-"

"You can leave of your own accord or I'll be happy to call the police. I'm given to understand that both Harvey Dent, the DA and Police Commissioner Gordon both find my wife delightful."

And Bruce would be lying if it were not incredibly satisfying to watch them slink out. And he was glad he didn't have to expose worse things. He didn't want to prod at wounds you hadn't exposed to him yourself.

"Well done, Sir," Alfred said, drying his hands on a tea towel.

"Thank you, Alfred- how are-"

"Thick as thieves and making a devil of a mess," Alfred said, less irritated than he might be otherwise. Dick was completely unaware and for the first time in a week, you looked like yourself again.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Can the blue mega finally shut up? Seriously, they go into the free Palestine tags to write shit about voting for a Zionist because they think she's the best option for Palestine… The blue MEGA is irritating

Seriously, you enter the tags to find out what's going on in Gaza or to share thugs, and the blue MEGA already appears there to write her shit (And classic texts about Trump… Let him win, maybe you'll finally start fucking care about genocide, you pro-genocide bastards)

No matter how much I despise Trump, at least that would be the perfect punishment for you for using Palestine as a tool to vote for a Zionist, fuck you liberals, no one likes you

The truth is that you don't care about the genocide and you are using gaslighting to get people to vote for your Zionist bitch as if Trump wins so that you can finally give a damn about the genocide in Gaza because if your blue terrorists do it, you don't care

Fuck you with the texts about bots, Russian trolls and calling others stupid, it hurts you so much that people care about genocide and that's why they refuse to vote for a Zionist bitch with a history of supporting fucking Israel? Are you seriously that stupid or are you fucking pretending?

Yes, no one fucking wants to see you in tags about Free Palestine, because all you do is force people to vote and masturbate to a Zionist (And the fact that she is a woman makes you think that you will get along with her easily… Really? Misogyny on top of that? You dare defend Harris because of her ethnicity and gender, you are fucked) you are disgusting, you have a history of attacking strikers and enjoying police brutality (And then you take the successes of the left to use them as a way to force people to vote for people who don't even care about minorities, anyway, it's funny that you keep silent about homeless people and people with disabilities, but it doesn't really matter to you, because you consider them to be worth more than you)

Yes, I will not forgive you, you are complicit in genocide and you will pay for it

Now that I have your attention:

[chaifootsteps]

It's always funny when people dare problematic artists to tell their friends and family about the problematic fictional art they create, only to usually be met with support or indifference. Hell, some of them have even made money because they were able to get deals or jobs because of how well-done their art is. It pisses people off when someone isn't crucified for enjoying and drawing fucked-up fiction in the real world.

Seriously. My mom couldn't care less what weird things I write, but I know she deeply approves of the fact that people sometimes pay me to write it.