#i hate smartphones. i always have and i always will.

[vanillabat99]

For some reason beyond my understanding, my phone hates me. Things rarely load properly, I regularly get disconnected from the wifi despite nobody else having any issues whatsoever, and it just overall sucks. I've had this phone for maybe 4 years. Is that old for a smartphone??? Is it trying to make me kill it before it kills itself??? I swear to god I will slam this thing into the pavement one day.

[thegunlady]

Kinda ass that you basically just can’t pay for things with cash anymore. And I’m not even just talking about shops and restaurants that don’t take cash. Back in the day you could fully just roll up and pay your rent or for a hotel room or even bills with cash or at least a plain paper check. Now EVERYTHING has to be attached to your identity and credit score and bank and whatever else. I stayed at a hotel recently and when I checked in the receptionist was like ‘oh hello (name) from (city)!’ because he could see my entire legal name and home address since I had to give all my billing info to book the room. Some random guy! Not only is it a potential security and privacy issue for many reasons but like. What if you’re homeless or underage or escaping abuse and don’t have your own credit card or bank account or ID and all you have is cash you’ve managed to borrow or squirrel away? What if the internet’s down and digital payments don’t work? You just can’t get your lunch? Or a room to sleep in? Why does every random coffee shop I’ve ever been to have my fucking email because they all use Toast? I don’t like this!

[claudtrait]

currently listening to my 5 hour long kpop playlist 🤭

[king-dra]

one thing that always makes me want to go full doomer blackpill is the way people are still so anthro-centric when it comes to climate change and environmentalism

like. the majority of people alive today are aware of climate change, the only way to not be aware is to be willfully ignorant. said majority is also, generally aware that climate change is a bad thing. and yet. and YET. people seem to be incapable of comprehending the idea that maybe the consequences of global warming that superficially seem like positives are actually still negatives

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Movie Lessons

(Part 1/3)

Fluff

Warning: Alastor is a bit jealous

Alastor x Reader

Imagine: Alastor goes to depths far below his level by starting to watch films to learn how to win you over.

There you are again. You're awake earlier than usual today. Why is that? Did you sleep badly? Did someone wake you up far too early?

Oh, the radio demon very much hopes that no wretched soul has disturbed you and robbed you of your sleep.

Well, maybe he kind of hopes so, because he's known to like tearing wretched souls to shreds.

But then again, that would mean you've suffered and must be tired now, and he never wants that.

Alastor watches you as you stride down the large, apple-shaped hotel stairs in that aesthetic way you move. Your beautiful hair that nestles against your shoulders and your beguiling body that triggers a hunger in this man. But it's not the kind of hunger he usually feels. No, this hunger feels different. Unusual. Strange.

And yet from the moment he sees you, hunger fills his chest with a warmth and he doesn't want this feeling to end.

The feeling is strongest when you talk to him. You're a clever woman, you have a good sense of humour (he loves the sugary-sweet laugh you give when he tells his typical jokes, but you always have a good line on your lips too) and - what turns Alastor on the most - you radiate warmth. It resembles a sense of security. As if you had a motherly side.

"Good morning, Al," you greet him with your angelic voice, which sounds like the magical sound of a delicate violin string to the demon.

"Good morning, my dear. It's unusual to see you in the lobby so early," Alastor replies with a sincere smile.

You shrug your shoulders sheepishly and reply: "Yes, I got up early today. I have quite a few plans."

Alastor raises an eyebrow curiously. You have plans without telling him in advance?! You just get up early and do your thing freely and don't have to answer to him?!

He clenches his hand around his coffee cup and has to be careful not to suddenly find himself holding ceramic shards.

He hates it when he realises that you don't belong to him.

This thought of somehow not being able to reach you torments him.

Normally, he knows how to deal with women. He respects them, he even loves to take part in feminist protests and fights, he has self-confidence, he's a charmer and he knows that there are some female souls in this hell who would get involved with him if he let them. He has no problem approaching someone and wrapping them around his finger with his charisma, but it's different with you.

As soon as you appear within his reach, it's as if he's forgotten everything: his good manners, his social skills, his self-confidence. He simply doesn't know how to talk to you to get closer to you. To show you that he's interested in you. And to find out what you actually think about him.

It's like a curse that forbids him from making you his own.

He manages to suppress the anger welling up in his chest and his grin intensifies as he says, "Well well, quite a few plans, hm? Don't make it so exciting, sweetheart. Tell me about your plans for today.“

As Alastor takes a small step towards you with interest, you blush slightly and bashfully tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Then you reply: "I want to go into town to buy a new outfit for tonight. Angel invites me to the cinema."

This is followed by static noise and a venomous sideways glance at the spider demon, who is lying on the sofa scrolling boredly through his smartphone. But the radio demon regains his composure and, clearing his throat, he turns to you.

"Now then, Y/N," he says with slightly lowered eyelids and a rather forced-looking smile, "I hope you have a good time. I hope you'll find something that suits you."

You say goodbye to him and leave the hotel.

Even after the door has long since closed, Alastor stares in the direction you disappeared in and wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"What are ya so stressed about, Smiles?" he hears Angel's voice from the sofa.

Without turning to the spider demon, Alastor replies: "What makes you think something is stressing me out?"

"Well. It's yer noticeably wry look after Y/N said we were goin' to the cinema."

While the radio demon adjusts his sleeves and straightens his bow tie, he replies in a patronising tone: "I simply have no understanding whatsoever for this affinity with this frivolous medium."

Angel giggles and replies with a wry grin: "What, huh?! Jealous that films are so awesome that no one listens to fucking radio anymore?"

Alastor lets out a low grumble under static before taking a deep breath and saying: "Your young minds have been poisoned so much that you no longer appreciate the true entertainment value of a good radio show. But the time will come when you'll realise that one day."

Disinterested in his words, Angel Dust shrugs his shoulders and mutters: "Fine by me. But it certainly wouldn't be a bad idea for ya to realise what a really good film would teach ya either."

"Je suis désolé, quoi?“

"Come on, smiley face, every idiot in this hotel realises how much ya fancy the girl but have no idea how to pick her up. Go see a few romances and ya'll know what women want."

Alastor raises an eyebrow. Strong scepticism, but with a hint of curiosity, can be seen in his facial expression.

Films are supposed to teach you how to get close to a woman?

That sounds completely idiotic.

Doesn't it?

[seat-safety-switch]

So much of our day is spent on time-wasting activities. You know it, and I know it. If I could have back all the time that I have used up, trying to find the tool that I just had in my hand, I would probably be able to have finished another couple of crappy cars by now. There's a whole cottage industry of variously-good-willed folks trying to tell you how to get this time back, but not a single one of them has a solution for the biggest waste of time of all: sitting in traffic.

That's right, traffic. We all hate it. Even fancy-dan city folks with functioning public transit still have to wait behind some dipshit clogging the escalator, or for the next train. It seems like we're always trying to get somewhere at the same time as everyone else, even if we've opted out of the rat race through a series of elaborate financial scams whose profits are funnelled through a Cayman Islands corporation.

I've tried a lot of solutions. Buying a four-by-four truck and just driving over curbs and through red lights when they oppose me. Buying a used firetruck, and cranking up the siren when I am getting bored of being in gridlock. Buying a little kei truck from Japan and sneaking into the gaps between lanes like Bangkok pizza deliveryfolx. Hell, I've probably even tried other ideas that don't involve a truck at all; that's how desperate things are getting around here.

For now, though, I'm learning to live with it. I realized, when I saw everyone else waiting at the stop light on their smartphones, that I could be using this time more productively. Don't take me for one of those one-eyed-touch-rectangle-fondlers, though. What I do is much simpler. My '79 Monte Carlo has a real big backseat, easily big enough for a baby bathtub or two. I pulled that seat right out, welded in a couple chunks of rebar, and I now have an engine stand ready whenever I want it. Will this light ever turn green? Don't care, because I can simply turn around in my bench seat and spend the time adjusting valves on this super-high-mileage propane Slant Six that I pulled out of the junkyard.

My cars have never been in better shape, and there's a bonus, too. Although it seriously irritates law enforcement to admit it, I am technically still "operating an automobile with my full attention" and cannot be considered to be driving distracted. Now if only I could stop dropping the inch-pound torque wrench when I'm merging onto the highway. This must be why all those fancy Japanese bullet trains have glass in their windows.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Telling Sukuna you're pregnant after not seeing him for 500 years

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: For more than 1.500 years, you found yourself in a love and hate relationship with none other than Ryomen Sukuna. But when he began to ignore you for more than 500 years, you decide to bind him to you forever - with the help of a pregnancy that shouldn't be possible...

Warnings: (y/n) is a real femme fatale aka bad bitch in this, mentions of smut, language language language, mentions of abuse towards Sukuna, mentions of pregnancy

Click here for Part ll

Your heels click against the floor casually as you swing your hips from side to side, a satisfied grin plastered on your face.

Finally. The sensation of his presence almost swallowed you whole just like it always did. Oh, how long you’ve waited for this damn moment, how you longed for him to finally appear again. Good for you that that brat decided to swallow your former lover back then.

Well, lover might be the wrong word to describe your relationship. Do you like Ryomen Sukuna? No, absolutely not. Just the thought of being around him sends your eyes into your skull immediately. Do you hate him?

“Can you shut up already? I’m…ah!”

“Stop talking, asshole”, you moaned against his parted lips, the sensation of him mercilessly thrusting into you almost swallowing you whole.

“You’re the worst woman I’ve ever met”, he hissed through gritted teeth, picking up his pace just the way you like it.

“I hate you”, you cried on top of your lungs while digging your nails into his shoulders to pull him even closer, to feel him even better.

You snort. Well, let’s just stay your relationship is rather complicated. But good for you, you took matters into your own hands.

“What do you think you’re doing there, huh?”, you casually question, bored eyes resting on that curse that kneels in front of the pink-haired boy.

“And who are you?”

Oh, it seems like this thing is a brave one. By the look of it and how he carries himself, he might be a special grade curse, he could be quite strong. But definitely not strong enough to even talk to you. You shake your head in amusement, fingers playing with a strand of hair.

“None of your business. I’m here to talk to Sukuna about something important, so get out the way before I drown you.”

“Get in line then. I am the one who will bring him back to life. He needs to assist us.”

“You must feel so brave and strong, huh? But still, you’re too dumb to realize who’s standing in front of you. Let me say it one last time, just because I’m in a good mood today: Get.out.my.way.”

You caress your belly mindlessly. Oh, you really do have some excited news. His face will be priceless when he hears your words. It’s his fault, after all. Who does he think he is to silently disappear for more than 500 years, leaving you alone without even saying goodbye? Looks like Sukuna is sick of you. Well, you’ll definitely bind him to you for the rest of your damned life. Maybe you should film it. What are those things called? Smartphones? Damn, you’re definitely too old for that dumb shit of those stupid humans.

“I’d get out of her way if I was you, curse. Or even better, go back where you came from and spare me with your bullshit, (y/n).”

That dark and unpromising voice, that annoyed undertone. Your eyes widen in nothing but excitement as well as your grin, unnecessary heart almost beating out of your chest. Finally, after all those years.

He’s back.

Ryomen Sukuna is finally back.

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s something very important we have to talk about”, you reply.

Hungrily, you take in his sight. He really does look different in that boy’s body. No wonder, after all he’s still a minor. You scrunch your nose, just the thought of getting close to this shell of a man…

Gross.

“Why are you looking at me like that, huh? Don’t you have somewhere to be, (y/n)?”

He can’t deny it, how desperately he has to supress a sly grin by just one look at you. How do you manage to always look this hot, to make his mind wander? Sukuna hates you with every fiber of his being, how you seem to always be two steps ahead of him. Him, the king of curses. Him, the one who should be in control. Him, who is technically stronger, older and more experienced than you. But oh, you do it so well while wearing that black dress and your pair of heels, the mischievous look on your face simply taking his breath away.

“Don’t worry about me pretty boy, I’m exactly where I should be”, you purr.

Elegantly, you bend down towards him, almost revealing your panties in the process. Your hand glides over his firm chest and wraps around his neck, putting pressure on his windpipe ever so gently.

“Would y’all mind to just leave? We need a little more privacy.”

Nobody dares to move, your sheer presence stopping both girls and Jogo in their tracks. You might not be as powerful as Sukuna, but the way you act alone is enough to tell them you are no one to be messed with.

And the stinging fact that the king of curses literally allows you to choke him.

“W-we…We need to talk to Sukuna”, a female voice behind you speaks out.

Urgh, is a simple no not enough? You roll your eyes in sheer annoyance, making Sukuna almost shiver in excitement of what comes next.

“Listen, I tried to be nice, but you brats are testing me. I don’t have time for stupid shit like that, okay?”

One snap. One little innocent movement of your finger is enough to slice both of their heads off in the split of a second, sparing the curse standing behind you only by inches.

“If you don’t want to die right here and now, leave before I’m completely losing it, curse.”

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Did something upset you?”

Your attention goes back to the force of a man in front of you, who lifts himself off the ground effortlessly.

“Well, I was pretty mad when I found out that you found a vessel and didn’t care enough to let me know. After all, I haven’t seen you in…how many years? 500, maybe?”

“Maybe you should leave, then. Because I didn’t miss you a single bit”, Sukuna suggests innocently.

Your bodies are so close to each other that he can’t ignore the heat radiating from your frame anymore. Why do you have to look so enticing in your short black dress? And what is that look on your face?

“Ouch, I’m here because I have something very important to tell you-“

“Get in line then, I don’t have time for your shit right now-“

Your nerves tingle in excitement when you pin him against the destroyed wall behind him.

This. This is the moment you worked you hard for, the moment you’ve been waiting for since he disappeared into darkness.

“I’m pregnant, Sukuna.”

The smile on his face disappears in an instant, you watch in sheer amusement as he turns pale as snow. This is too good to be true, absolutely priceless.

“So you fucked with somebody else, huh?”

“Both you and I know that it’s not possible for a simple human or curse to impregnate a woman like me.”

Oh, he knows damn well that you’re right. Frantically, he pushes his large hand against your stomach, searching for a sign of life. You have to be joking. He was gone for ages. And even though he wasn’t able to not get a taste of you, to not sink into your inviting flesh from time to time, there simply is no possibility, it can’t be true…

His soul leaves his body, breath getting stuck in his throat.

There it is, a tiny movement, a minor heartbeat.

You are indeed pregnant.

“There is no way”, he breathes out.

“Ask be how I did it.”

Your face is only inches away from his, maniac grin laughing down at him. You’ve had this plan in your mind for a long time. After he slipped through your fingers and didn’t return for literal years, you needed a plan. A plan to force him to stay by your side, a plan to bind him to you forever.

Ryomen Sukuna will always be yours. And you made sure of that.

“To be honest, it wasn’t hard to get what I needed for it. You aren’t especially careful when it comes to-“

“It shouldn’t even be possible”, he interrupts you breathlessly.

“You…You little bitch.”

You laugh at him hysterically as he throws you against the wall and chokes you until you see stars.

“Congrats, dear Sukuna. I’m sure you’ll be the best dad ever”, you choke out while sticking out your tongue.  

“And you’ll stay with me until the end of time.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @brycequinlansbrightpinkthong

[captainuranium543]

Fairy tail headcannon a nobody wanted at all😊

- most of the dragon slayers+erza eat bugs regularly and it's gross AF to everyone

-Natsu because he grew up in the woods and they were like the number one abundant source of food, same for Wendy but she stopped for a while because Carla told her it was nasty (as soon as she joined the fairy tail guild she reverted so incredibly fast)

-gajeel pretends to thinks it's gross but secretly he really likes the taste he just doesn't wanna have that in common with natsu

- erza and Erik because in the evil slave tower where everyone was starving if you found a bug you ate it before anyone else could grab it from you.

- sting did not do that growing up but started when natsu told him it was good, he does not agree but does it anyway so natsu thinks he's cool

- rogue only tried it a couple times because frosch wanted to try it to be more like a frog and rogue is nothing if not supportive

- laxus grew up normal and thinks all of them are disgusting

- Lucy has the WORST financial skills. Legit they are awful. Everyone thinks she's always broke cuz of the tpd (team property damage) constantly making them lose their reward to repair bills but (while that is a factor) when Lucy sees smth cute that would look great in her apartment she just cannot help herself. Lucy will be so careful trying to save her money then she'll see a new set of stationary and goes "haha rent what rent"

- the hand me down game at fairy tail was fucking insane when they where kids. For levy and lisanna basically everything they owned had been passed down like 6 times already

- that red shirt natsu wore in the flashbacks? Before him it was erza's, and before her it was canas, and before her it was laxus.

- gray wears almost exclusively white jackets because jackets are expensive and if he loses them he would rather they be easy to spot so he can find them again rather then have to buy a new one

- sometimes people will invite erza places for the scary dog privilege when they dont want to be bothered by strangers. Erza has no idea thats the reason she just thought people really liked walking with her through rough parts of town in the middle of the night.

- Carla and lilly have insane beef, for no damn reason. Like both of them are fairly polite so neither will say it openly but every conversation between the two is the most passive aggressive petty insult battle you could imagine

- freed, levy, Lucy and later jellal have a book club where they all meet up and talk about whatever they're reading and play Scrabble and talk a lot of shit about their annoying ass friends.

- happy sometimes comes but he is under no circumstances allowed to bring natsu(he knows what he did)

- when erza met seigrain/jellal in the magic counsel she first tried to attack him, when that proved to be a bad idea she later started specifically destroying stuff under his jurisdiction to make sure he had to deal with as much paperwork as possible

- for her modelling, Mira used to use a very light spray of holy water to remove body hair because it burns it off💀

- wendy romeo and chelia are actually best friends like they are constantly hanging out together just to go do stuff

- erza and Erik hate each other for no reason at all. Like over that year that she worked with crime sorciere they where ALWAYS BEEFING. Every time they were near each other erza was thinking insults she knew he could hear and Erik was fighting for his life not to strangle her to death.

When erza became sclass she used to sit on the 5th step of the stairs because Mira wasn't allowed on those stairs yet and it really pissed her off. She was like, just barely out of reach, so Mira would stand at the bottom the stairs yelling death threats at her and erza would be like "whattt I'm not doing anything I don't even know what your talking about in literally just sitting what are you so mad about"

- when Warren invented cellphones, despite all of them looking like modern smartphones, freed somehow managed to get one that looked exactly like a Blackberry and refuses to get a different one

- Mira used to cut her siblings hair and because she didn't know any good haircuts yet her 2 options where 1- bald or 2- bowl cut. Hence lisannas horrifying cut as a child

[eevees-hobbies]

Sext Me Like Ya Mean It - NSFW (Fem!Reader x Haruka Sakura)

Author’s Note: This was inspired by this Haruka Sakura Nendoroid, where he’s blushing and looking at his phone. "But, Eevee, how did a cute little figure inspire a fanfic that’s 8-pages long? " I can’t stress enough how down bad I am for this man. Like I would let him put it in my ***, and I’d  *** his *** off of a plate. And I’m not even fucking sorry about it. I might buy this thing and purchase a *** jar, to be fucking honest. Also, if you see any debauched shit with Haruka, tag me cuz I’m Jonesing (I’m dead fucking serious). 

Synopsis: Sakura and technology don’t mix, and now you’re telling him there’s this thing called sexting?! It’s a no from him…unless you can convince him that sexting can be fun for all involved! How will you manage to do that? I dare ya to guess.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Haruka Sakura. Sexting in the form of text and video, Togame sees your breast, masturbation for you, public masturbation for Sakura, pet names including kitten, sir, and daddy. Tis smut. Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 2.7K

Dividers by Saradika. Banner by me.

“What’s…sexting?” 

Sakura looks defeated as he poses the question. He had just grasped the concept of texting, and now you were throwing more terminology his way?

You shake your head, amused that someone who grew up in the age of smartphones is so pop-culture illiterate. “Sexting is just texting, except we send sexier, more suggestive messages through words, gifs, or pictures. It’s really hot.”

Sakura runs a hand through his dichromatic black and white tresses, “that sounds dumb and not sexy.” 

Even saying the word sexy has a persistent shade of pink stretching over cheeks. 

“Don’t knock it until you give it a try, Sakura! Anyway, have fun with Suo and Nirei tonight.” You give him a peck on the cheek, which results in a grumble and him pulling you in for a kiss on the lips.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your earlier conversation with Sakura. He was always so quick to disregard things he didn’t think he would be good at. 

You can think of all the times you suggested something new: baking, binge-watching Bridgerton, and volunteering at a cat cafe, and how all those things were immediately met with complaints from your boyfriend. 

It wasn’t until you forced his hand by involving him in those activities that he started to warm up to being someone who can bake a mean cake, enjoy a good cuddle session while enjoying the latest season of Bridgerton, and is actually a talented cat-whisperer.

So much like those situations, a little push might be warranted. 

You pick up your phone, enter the passcode, and flick past the home screen displaying a picture of you leaning up to kiss the chin of a blushing, scowling Sakura. 

Across town, Sakura sits at a bar with Nirei and Suo—a bar is usually not their typical meet-up place, but it’s Togame’s birthday, and they needed a venue that could accommodate the size of all the rowdy Bofurin and Shishtoren alums. It also doesn’t help that Kotoha also said, “Fuck. No.” to hosting the party at Cafe Pothos.

A light buzz vibrates in Sakura’s pocket; he leans over, pulls his phone from the back of his jeans, and looks at the screen. He’s pleasantly surprised to see a message from you; he thought you’d be half asleep by now.

God, I miss her. Hope she hasn’t started a new episode of Bridgerton without me.

As he taps on the text bubble icon to open the message, his eyes squint, needing some time to take in the message and then re-read it.

8:20 PM: Hey, baby. I miss you. Thinking of you sooooo much.

His heart thumps aggressively in his chest—a common result of simply thinking about you—as he stares at the text before him, already overthinking what he should send, but you beat him with a follow-up message. 

I hate back-to-back texts. Never have time to respond. 

8:22 PM: I’m lying in bed. Don’t worry…not watching our fave shows without you, kitten. 

He rolls his eyes at the pet name you gave him. You told him that he looks like an angry kitten when he scrunches his nose and bears his teeth. Wiith little complaint from Sakura, the pet name stuck. It’s so stupid and emasculating, but he kind of loves it. 

“You ok, Sakura? You’ve been staring at your phone for like five minutes.”

Sakura looks up at Nirei. “O-oh uh, yeah. Just texting.”

Suo looks over Sakura’s shoulder, trying to peak at his phone screen, “but you aren’t typing anything?”

Sakura tilts the phone away from his friends’ nosey eyes. Your conversations with each other are personal for him, and he’s committed to keeping you all to himself.

“Stop being fucking nosey!” he growls. Sakura decides this is becoming too much of a hassle, but as soon as he’s about to put his phone away, he receives another text from you.

He pauses to consider that he could wait until he is alone to read your messages, but who knows how long that would be? What if you needed something? He would be pissed at himself if he missed an opportunity to do something for you. He decides that the risk of getting caught being called a pet name by his girlfriend isn’t that big of a deal, so he flips his phone over to read your latest commentary. 

8:25 PM: Read receipts are on, so I know you’re looking at your phone. Party must suck.

What the fuck is a read receipt? 

8:26 PM: A read receipt means I can see that you’ve looked at the text message. 

He smiles, loving how you can read his mind even when you’re not physically in front of each other. He’s almost ready to make a pass at typing those exact thoughts out until the following message has him clutching the phone to his chest out of fear that someone could read it over his shoulder. 

8:28 PM: I think I’m…ovulating? I have this craaaazy desire to lick your balls all the way to the tip of your dick, kitten. 

Sakura gradually pulls the phone away from his chest, checking that Nirei and Suo are too engrossed in their conversation to notice the deep-set blush on his cheeks and how he’s peaking at the phone through his fingers. 

His thoughts are frantic; he has so many questions about a situation that he’s never been in before. Why would you send something so filthy through your phone? What is he supposed to do about any of this information when he’s so far away? 

8:30 PM: I’m drooling just thinking about it, baby. Remember when you fucked my face so hard that my hair had my drool in it? I want you to do that again. Fuck my cute little mouth. 

“Ok, this is ridiculous.” A hand reaches past Sakura’s face and takes the phone from his grasp. Sakura immediately stands up, the barstool he was sitting on making a loud scraping sound as it drags against the floor.

But the perpetrator is tall, and Sakura may have beaten his ass before, but they’re friends now, and it’s looked down upon to abuse your friends. 

Togame looks down at Sakura, shaking his head. “You’ve been on your phone every time I look over at ya. What is more important than spending time with me on my birthday?” He punctuates each syllable with a swing of Sakura’s phone.

Suo, ever the instigator, happily chimes in. “He’s texting Y/N!”

“Oh?” Togame’s brows furrow as he looks around the bar, realizing he hasn’t seen you all night. “Hey, yeah, your shadow is missing.”

In what feels like slow-motion, which it probably is because it’s Togame we’re talking about, Sakura watches as Togame’s eyes look down at the screen. He watches as emerald irises quickly scan the text—obviously a faster reader than Sakura—and his eyes widen. 

“Well, damn. That’s hot.”

Another text comes in to Togame’s delight. He lets out a whistle and hands the phone back over to Sakura.

“You sure you know what to do with a girl like that? I could take her off your hands.”

Sakura shoots him a murderous look; his fists clench as he steps toe-to-toe with him. “Wanna run that by me again?”

Togame chuckles, knowing that look in Sakura’s eyes. It was only a few years ago that he and Shishitoren had inspired that same look, which resulted in Sakura and Togame becoming close and saving his best friend’s life.

But somehow, the look Sakura harbors is more intense—protective—now than back then, and it’s all because of you. Togame fully believes that Sakura would be willing to swing on him for you and to protect your honor. Relenting, Togame pats his head, “Kidding. Y'all are cute together.”

Sakura looks down at the phone, curious to see what you’ve sent this time and what Togame glimpsed. What he sees is somehow worse than you calling him kitten or saying you want to gargle his balls down the back of your throat—it’s far worse. 

This time, you sent an image of you in front of a mirror, clad in only your bra and panties, legs folded underneath you as you pulled a bra cup down, exposing your breast.

His eyes dart up to Togame and down to his phone in quick succession, short-circuiting in a matter of seconds. 

Togame chuckles at Sakura’s reaction, “Yeah, she’s real pretty. Lucky guy.”

As Togame shuffles off with the image of your full breast sitting heavily on his mind and wondering what it would feel like for that same breast to sit heavily on his tongue—Sakura stomps off to the bathroom in hopes of regaining his composure.

Suo and Nirei exchange shrugs, assuming Sakura is experiencing one of his usual moods.

Sakura enters the furthest stall from the door and immediately texts you, with your picture still sitting enticingly at the top of his messages.

8:35 PM: Togame just saw that picture. 

Elipses in a bubble appear on the screen, signifying that you’re in the middle of typing. While he waits, he can’t help but look at the picture you sent, his thumb rubbing over your dark, perky nipple as he swallows thickly at the bulge straining against his jeans. 

8:37 PM: What did he say? Did he like it lol?

Sakura shakes his head. You are a ridiculously massive pain in his ass sometimes, but you’re also so…hot. 

8:39 PM: Send me another picture. But with less clothes. 

His heart is once again pounding in his chest, hoping you comply with little to no backtalk for once. He doesn’t even care that people are shuffling in and out of the bathroom as his foot taps against the shiny tile of the floor in impatience.

Another image appears on his phone in what feels like an eternity. This time, your legs are bent in front of you, with two fingers spreading your folds, allowing him to see every bit of your sex in the reflection of the mirror.

Before Sakura knows it, his hand is reaching down into his pants and palming his hard dick while zooming into the picture, inspecting every inch of you that he’s already previously committed to memory. His eyes dart over your clit, that cute little nub that makes you grip his hair as he sucks and licks at it. His eyes move down as he zooms into the image as much as it will allow, looking at your tight hole, which, despite image quality, he can tell is already shining with thick moisture that gives it that glazed, glistening look that makes his mouth water. 

Sakura unbuckles his belt, letting it drag his pants and boxers to his ankles. 

8:43 PM: Baby? Where’d you go? Or should I be saying hi to Togame instead?

Sakura grunts, not realizing that the logistics of sexting and jerking off can be so troublesome—you really have been teaching him a lot. He picks up his phone and shoots you another text.

8:45 PM: Shut up. Keep going. I like what I’m seeing. 

8:45 PM: Yes, sir.

His cock twitches at your use of that honorific. Yeah, being called kitten is lovely when you’re being sweet, but he also likes it when you call him sir or daddy when your naughty side comes out.

Sakura goes back to stroking himself and looking at the previous picture you sent him. The message is pushed up as you send a new image; he doesn’t have to scroll far to see something that makes him leak precum onto the toilet seat below him.

You’ve moved away from the mirror and are lying on the bed; your soft, thick thighs spread far enough to give him a clear view of the two fingers you have shoved in your pretty pussy. He can tell by the white coating near your knuckles that you must have been pumping the absolute hell out of her. 

His mind is racing. Were you thinking about him as you finger fucked yourself? What did you imagine him doing to you? How close were you, and could you hold off until he got home? 

Sakura squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like this entire experience is overloading his senses. He had just learned how to text, and now he’s sexting you? And you’re sending the dirtiest, filthiest messages to him as he jerks off in a public bathroom during his friend’s birthday party?

What the actual fuck..

He licks the palm of his hand and brings it down to stroke himself, imagining that it’s your slick being rubbed into the pores of his dick. He can’t even manage to start slowly because you’ve already done such an excellent job with these pictures—already making his cock hard to the extent that his balls hurt, and if he doesn’t cum soon, he’ll have to punch someone. 

Sakura begins mumbling under his breath as his strokes quicken and increase in intensity. She’s such a good girl for me. Perfectly needy and so into me. She’s so pretty and sweet, and I’m her Daddy.

He’s picturing you in every single position he’s ever had you in and every position he wants to try in the near future. 

He’s imagining sucking on your nipples, biting them as hard as he’d like to without you squealing that it hurts. 

He’s imagining pinning you underneath him while folding your ankles behind your head so he can hit that spot that makes you squirt on his stomach. 

He’s imagining you begging him to pull the condom off and fuck you raw because you “need every last drop of his baby batter” He shivers at the thought of you saying something so slutty and out of character.

The hand holding his phone vibrates, and he enthusiastically pulls his phone back in front of him. This time, you’ve sent a video; he’s never pressed play so fast in his life. 

The video is shakey, but when it beings to play, it focuses in on you fingering your pussy—-his pussy.

“S-SAKURA, FUCK,” blasts through the speakers as you breathily moan his name and your favorite expletive. 

He quickly lowers the volume but not too much so he can still hear as he presses the speaker to his ear, savoring the sound of your moans and the sound of your fingers being stuffed into your hungry cunt, mixing and squelching your juices noisily for him. 

It reminds him of that ASMR shit that you sometimes listen to–if he could have an ASMR recording of just you, your moans, and the sound your pussy makes for him, he’d listen to it every single day.

Sakura feels his hamstrings tighten and a burning sensation in his abdomen; listening to you is bringing him closer to his orgasm, and it feels like it’s going to be intense. 

God, and everything you were saying was just perfect.

“Your pussy misses you, Daddy.”

“I love the way-”  gasp “love the way you fuck me, baby.”

“Haru, I need you, baby. Please come home.”

“I’m so close, but I can’t cum without you, baby boy.”

“I want to squirt on your dick, sir. Please, please, please.”

Sakura hunches over and lets out a deep, guttural moan that can’t be stopped even as he grits his teeth. His balls clench violently, and his nut shoots out onto the toilet seat, toilet bowl, and on the floor. Even when he thinks that his cum is done spilling from him, more bubbles at his tip and dribbles down the length of his cock and along his knuckles. 

He leans against the stall wall and stares at the mess he made—all over himself and everywhere his airborne spunk could reach.

He’s convinced that he’s never come so hard in his life, and it was all because of you. Fuck! He hasn’t messaged you since you called him sir, and that was—he checks the clock on his phone—ten minutes ago!

He types out a message, sneering in disgust as cum smears on his phone screen.

9:05 PM: I just fucking came. Coming home. Don’t clean yourself up.

9:06 PM: CAME?! In your pants….? Or…?

9:08 PM: SAKURA?!

He doesn’t reply because he’s already on his way home to you.

[sirenontheloose]

idk if you do requests but IF you do, could you do something comfort related with Daniela. Like have Dani be upset or hurt and the reader is comforting her. Sorry if this isnt very specific

a/n - Yes, I do take requests! I forgot to let y'all know, LOL. Thanks for requesting, anon! I hope you like this one :)

COMFORT

"Yet another rejection." Dani sighed to herself, tossing her smartphone onto the couch before making her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

She knew from the start that being in the entertainment industry wouldn’t be easy, especially when it came to having a say in the group’s creative direction. It wasn’t just her ideas. The other girls’ suggestions had been shut down too. But with their hectic schedule, this rejection cut deeper than usual.

She needed Y/N. But her girlfriend was still in an online group discussion in their bedroom, and Dani hated the thought of disturbing her. So she decided to wait in the living room, letting the TV play in the background.

As if on cue, the negative thoughts crept in, and the sounds from the TV faded into nothing but static.

"Was it worth it? The long years of training?"

Dani was drained, mentally and physically, in ways she couldn’t even put into words. The exhaustion clung to her bones, heavy and suffocating, as her thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last, dragging her into a place she hated. A place where doubt whispered cruel things in her ear.

"What if this is all for nothing?" she murmured to herself, voice barely above a whisper.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as if pain could ground her. It didn’t. The lump in her throat only grew, thick and unbearable, threatening to choke her.

"This is so stupid," she muttered, shaking her head as she wiped her damp eyes. She was supposed to be resting, breathing, existing without the weight of expectations crushing her. But instead, she was sitting there, curled up under the dim glow of the TV, blinking away tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

She needed you. Her body ached for your presence, for the warmth of your arms around her, for the quiet reassurance only you could give. But you were still working, still behind that closed bedroom door, too far away even though you were just a few steps from her. She pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to steady the tremble in her breath. It didn’t work. Her safe place wasn’t here. Not in this silence. Not in this loneliness. It was you. You’re her safe place.

Before she even realized what was happening, she was pulled into a familiar embrace. Strong, warm, grounding. That was all it took for her to break. Her shoulders shook as she clung to you, trying to hold herself together.

"Why are you crying?" you asked softly, voice filled with concern as you ran your fingers through her hair.

"I don’t know," she admitted, her voice cracking as she let out a shaky breath. "I just... I feel like everything I do is pointless."

You held her tighter, resting your chin on top of her head. "That’s not true. You’re incredible, Dani."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Then why does it feel like I’m not good enough? Why do I keep trying if no one even cares?"

"I care," you whispered.

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, her grip on you tightened.

"I hate feeling like this," she choked out.

"I know," you murmured, rubbing slow circles on her back. "But you're not alone, okay? I'm here. Always."

You sat there with her in silence, not rushing her, not saying anything more. Just being there. Holding her close to you.

This didn’t happen often, but Dani had her moments, moments when the doubts got too loud, when the exhaustion won. And this was one of them.

[riri0000i]

Choso had always been the easy target. Since kindergarten. He was mentally weak, anti-social, and never responded to any provocation. Girls called him creepy, a freak, while boys raised their hands at him as a "joke". He spent mornings at school trying to not be noticed by people like you, without any success, of course. He had no one to hang out with and the only thing he did outside school was taking care of his siblings and pulling all-nighters in front of the computer, talking to the only people who could understand his loneliness.

A real loser.

" Oops, my bad Choso!" You chimed with a fake guilty face. Your friends were all laughing, some even taking pictures with their smartphones. Choso didn't move an inch from his chair, letting you pour the probably expired milk carton on his head.

" Hey! Don't frame me with this creep too." You said, noticing that a friend of yours was also taking pictures of you.

" It's not like the teacher cares anyway. " She responded. She was right: teachers gained nothing from defending students like Choso. Your school was one of those elite schools, mainly attended by people like you: rich and mean, with disgusting pastimes like making other people's lives miserable. And then there were those like Choso, who had earned the scholarship by studying.

" I know, but today I forgot to put my lashes on." Your answer made your friends laugh again and you joined them. Before class began you looked at Choso, drenched in milk. You met his tired eyes, as soon as he noticed your gaze he looked down. His weakness pissed you off.

“ Pathetic dog.”

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

The chemistry professor was explaining biomolecules, there were maybe five students who were actually listening to him. You were not one of them: you were scrolling on your phone and the few times you looked up you watched how your friends sitting next to Choso tormented him, by kicking at his chair or throwing pieces of paper at him. Nothing new.

" For this topic I would like you to work in pairs by doing a project. I will select the pairs based on your grades." The teacher said before clearing his throat for the umpteenth time.

Shit, this is the worst.

You had seen the scoreboard from the last chemistry test and you were last while Choso... He was first, just like in any other subject. The teacher began to list the pairs and, as you predicted, you ended up with that loser. When Choso heard your name he felt his stomach turn in anxiety, he feared you more than anyone else. To him you were simply cruel. There was no sign, however slight, of kindness in your soul. To make it worse was your pretty face which, at first glance, was impossible to associate with your awful personality. Choso would be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive. Maybe you were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.

" Turn in the project by next week." The teacher concluded before the bell rang.

" Can't believe that you have to do this with that creep!" Your friend laughed.

After a sigh: " Fuck it, I hate that teacher. Bet he did it on purpose." You said with a pissed tone. You noticed that Choso was watching you. You got up from your chair with another annoyed sigh and positioned yourself in front of his desk: hands on your hips and a fake smile on your lips, the usual one you used to make before saying a cruel comment.

" I don't want to be seen hanging around with you, much less in my house." You spat.

Choso replied in his insecure, shaky voice: " We can do it at my house... I warn you I have brothers so—

" Okay. See you later."

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

Number not Saved : 602. Apartment building X. Near Y station.

You : I'm taking the train rn.

Choso was nervous. It was his first time having a girl at home. Fortunately his brothers were staying late at school that day. He quickly took a shower, getting rid of the smell of milk that earned him several stares by strangers. Being the loser he was, he asked for advice on Reddit to avoid being overly weird.

Knock Knock.

Choso jumped at the knocks on the door, interrupting his reading “How to Look More Sociable in 3 Steps”. You arrived a little late, not expecting the train to take so long.

" Come in..." He said, opening the door for you. You didn’t even say hello, you just sighed, as if you were forced to do the hardest work job on earth. As you looked around (It was the first time you had seen such a small apartment) Choso couldn’t look away from your body. You were so cute in that little outfit. It was the first time he had seen you without your uniform outside school. He would never admit it but Choso stalkled your instagram account several times (resulting in messy erections every time you posted bikini photos). The miniskirt you were wearing was surely going to distract him. He felt something twitching in his pants. Face instantly pink in embarrassment.

Oh. Oh no. No. God, no.

“ Are we doing this stupid project or what?” You asked, breaking the silence. Lucky him, he was wearing loose clothes. You didn’t notice anything.

“ Oh. Yeah… Follow me.” He responded quietly, his body tensing up. You noticed how Choso loses some of his loser appearance without the school uniform. He wore black sweatpants, a baggy sweater and his usual glasses. If he was one of your friends you might have complimented his look.

" Uhh.. You can sit on the bed… Or on the chair, you decide." He said in his usual passive tone. You huffed, sitting on his bed. It smelled like him. You were quite disappointed by the normality of his room (yes, you were expecting an otaku room: full of action figures, bodypillows and posters).

That miniskirt…I bet she did it on purpose. The sight of a pretty girl like you on his bed made Choso’s mouth go dry. He hated you but at the same time it was impossible to not admire your beauty.

" Hope you don't expect me to do anything about that project, do you, Choso?" You said with a smile on your lips. Obviously, Choso knew he would do most, if not all, of the work. He nodded, muttering something to himself. Before you could add any mean comment Choso sat down and started typing on his keyboard. Your initial idea was to find something weird, or childish, in his room and bully him but it was all so… Normal. With the excuse of going to the bathroom you explored the house.

Oh. One of his brothers is Itadori Yuuji? You looked at one of the photos hanging in the hallway. Although he didn't attend your school, Itadori Yuuji was quite popular. And he was popular for good reasons: athletic, generous and nice. You returned to Choso's room, who seemed focused on his work. You looked at him. It annoyed you to admit it but—he had a nice face. Cute, if you had to be honest. But he was unable to maintain a good self-image: he stuttered and couldn't keep eye contact, dark circles partly hidden by the nerdy glasses he wore, hair loose and messy and his posture screamed "I'm weak.”

Ugh. How can Choso be related to Itadori?

After a while: " I'm getting bored." You said as you approached Choso. His heart missed a beat, the last time you had said those words one of your friends put out a cigarette on Choso's palm just to entertain you.

" Uh, umm.. I doubt there's anything fun here..."

" Don't you have any games on your computer?" Choso was taken aback by your question.

" …Y-Yes?" He answered but Choso was sure you had other intentions, like finding another way to bully him. Standing up, you placed yourself beside him, leaning against his chair. Choso could smell a sugary scent from your clothes and hair, it was intoxicating. You watched how his long fingers trembled.

Oh, his hands are so big.

" Uh, uhmm y-you can sit here… I'll get another chair— Before Choso could add another word you sat on his lap. His body froze in surprise. Your ass on his crotch. You rested your back on his muscular chest, waiting for him to start playing. How was he supposed to respond to this?

" Oh, I like this game." You commented as if nothing was wrong.

“ R-Really..? I’ll p,play it then…”

He’s already hard.

To hold the controller Choso had to practically hug you. The way he would struggle to stay still and whisper an "I'm sorry" every time he accidentally touched you was so funny to you. But it was even more fun to rub your warm pussy against his erected sex, feeling his hot breath against the skin of your neck.

“ D-Don’t … P-Please, don’t move like that..” He nervously gulped. Because of that miniskirt Choso could sense the slightest movement you made against his body and thanks to that miniskirt you could feel how Choso's erection throbbed against your panties.

“ Like what?” You teased, shifting your weight again. Choso's body was trembling. You could feel his heartbeat racing. He was squeezing the controller to maintain his calm, feeling his inside burning at the softness of your body against his crotch. The miniskirt you were wearing was not helping at all, allowing Choso the sight of your lacy pink panties. It made his head dizzy and his erection harder, almost painful. How can a girl like you be so naughty?

" I.. S-Stop teasing me." He finally spoke up, trying to sound angry. His voice shaky and weak. You smiled and finally turned your body, now face-to-face with him. The movement resulted in another rubbing against his cock, now covered with a layer of sticky precum. Choso's face was red with embarrassment, his eyes glossy and he tried his best to hold back little moans by biting his lip. He was a mess.

" Choso~" Having you in front of him was wayy worse. You were so pretty and so close , your soft tits pressed against his sweaty chest. On your face that mischievous, almost cruel, smile. Your cheeks pink and your breath left shivers on his skin. His tip poked your wet cunt. You could feel he was big.

Maybe eight inches? It’s always the quiet ones.

" I, I can't take it anymore, p-please..." He whined like a little puppy. You gently moved a few strands of hair behind his ear and took off his glasses, throwing them on the floor. Shit, he was really handsome like that. You kissed him. Choso’s first kiss. Your lips soft and hot, leaving trails of a cherry gloss on his. He moaned inside your mouth, unable to follow your lewd rhythm. Your scent, your taste and your touch were making him obsessed, resulting in a messy and incoherent kiss.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is too much. He reached his limit. The same second you tried to reach the tip of his cock with your fingers he came, sobbing your name and leaving a cum stain on his pants.

“ I,I’m s—sorry…” His voice breathless, dick still twitching in pleasure. He continued to apologize with teary eyes, without knowing how erotic that scene was to you.

I want to fuck him.

[calicoheartz]

helloooo i love your work and i can’t stop thinking about paige x uconnwbbp and reader gets in an argument with a ref and is taken off the court (and obvs there’s videos all over the internet about reader cussing out the ref) and paige pulling her away 💗

𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ; 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

꣑୧ — summary | basically the prompt 🪩🌊

wc ; 752

— warnings | tiiiiny bit of angst , cussing , mainly fluff / normal

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : yayaya this prompt was so fun to write !! deff need to do more fiesty!reader x paige sometime 🥴 but for now , enjoy !

Our team was in the midst of a nail-biting game against their biggest rival. The arena was electric, fans on the edge of their seats as the clock ticked down. I was fully immersed in the intensity of the match, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

As the final minutes approached, a questionable call by the referee sent our opponents to the free-throw line. My frustration boiled over, and before I knew it, I was arguing with the ref, my voice rising above the noise of the crowd.

“That was a ridiculous call!” I shouted, my hands gesticulating wildly. “Are you blind?”

The ref’s face hardened. “Watch your mouth, or you’re out of here.”

“Make a fair call for once!” I retorted, my anger getting the better of me.

Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my arm. I turned to see Paige, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “Hey, calm down,” she urged, trying to pull me away from the escalating situation.

But I wasn’t ready to back down. “No, this is unfair, Paige! We’re getting robbed!”

The ref blew the whistle, signaling a technical foul. “You’re out of the game. Leave the court now.”

The locker room was a sanctuary of silence compared to the chaos outside. I sat on the bench, head in my hands, the weight of my actions crashing down on me. The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Paige walking in, her face etched with concern.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting down next to me. “You okay?”

I sighed, feeling a mix of shame and frustration. “I screwed up. I let my temper get the best of me.”

Paige wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Everyone gets frustrated. It’s a high-pressure game. But we have to keep our cool, especially with all those cameras around.”

I groaned, remembering the countless smartphones pointed in my direction during the argument. “There are probably videos all over the internet of me cussing out the ref.”

Paige chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re trending. But it’s okay. We’ll handle it.”

By the next morning, the videos had indeed gone viral. Social media was buzzing with clips of my outburst, complete with hashtags and memes. I scrolled through the comments, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Hey, stop torturing yourself,” Paige said, taking my phone away. “What’s done is done. Let’s focus on moving forward.”

I nodded, grateful for her steady presence. “You’re right. I just hate that I lost my cool like that.”

Paige smiled, her eyes filled with understanding. “You’re passionate. It’s one of the things I love about you. But maybe channel that passion into something more productive next time.”

I laughed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I’ll try. Thanks for pulling me away last night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Paige leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ve got your back, always. We’re a team, on and off the court.”

The next game was our chance for redemption. I was determined to keep my composure, no matter what happened. Paige and I had spent the days leading up to the match focusing on mental preparation, reminding each other of our goals and the importance of staying calm.

As we stepped onto the court, the support from our teammates and fans was overwhelming. The game was tough, but I kept my cool, channeling my energy into every play. Paige’s presence was a constant source of strength, her encouragement pushing me to give my best.

When the final buzzer sounded, we had won by a narrow margin. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I felt a surge of pride and relief. Paige ran over to me, her face glowing with joy.

“You did it!” she exclaimed, wrapping me in a tight hug.

“We did it,” I corrected, pulling her close. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Paige smiled, her eyes shining. “Always. Now, let’s go celebrate.”

The viral videos eventually faded from memory, replaced by clips of our triumphant victory. Paige and I continued to grow stronger, both as teammates and as partners. The incident with the ref had taught me a valuable lesson about keeping my emotions in check, but it had also shown me the depth of Paige’s love and support.

Together, we faced every challenge head-on, knowing that no matter what happened on the court, we had each other’s backs. And that was the greatest victory of all.

it feels good to write more for paige now! hope yall liked this one and tysm for reading !

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀

-💜

Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.

Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.

But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.

It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.

Once a week they got to call their parents.

In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.

But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.

"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.

"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"

"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.

"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."

"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."

They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.

"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"

The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.

"What did you do...?"

"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.

"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.

"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.

"Lay down on the couch," they said.

"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.

"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.

They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.

"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."

"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"

The villain's hand was still in theirs.

"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.

"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.

"Yeah."

"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."

The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."

It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.

Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.

"Did you stitch that yourself?"

"I tried, yeah."

"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."

The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.

And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?

What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?

The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.

It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."

All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.

"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"

"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.

"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."

"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."

"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"

The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor Scenario Dump

One of my friends requested I make more of these, so I guess I'm doing a series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like before these are just a bunch of story ideas I've had pop into my head that I have no plans to use. Feel free to use them, just link back/credit me and slap me with a tag because I wanna see what you write!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Contents/WARNINGS: ANGST; stalking; abuse of Alastor's shadows; heavily implied voyeurism and other creepy shit; (most of these warnings are for the last prompt so if your bothered by any of this, just skip that one) Actual brainrot below the cut; Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ringing Hollow ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basic idea is that Alastor ends up caving to Charlie/the hotel and getting a cellphone. Everyone insists he needs it in case there is an "emergency", especially after the whole Exterminator attack on the hotel.

So he relents. As much as Alastor hates to admit it; they are right. But he isnt going to get any of that smartphone crap. Alastor opts to get himself an actual flipphone. (Angel Dust questions how Alastor even managed to find the piece of junk) Its only for emergencies. He should barely be using it, if at all.

But things change one day when Alastor gets several messages from an unknown number thinking he is their close friend. Alastor does end up telling them that they have the wrong number, but you know, being Alastor, he has to tease them relentlessly first.

They actually end up talking for a bit. Both of them find the situation incredibly entertaining and surprisingly like each other's sense of humor. The reader ends up asking who they actually texted. Alastor panics a bit. He doesn't want to just tell some stranger that they just messaged the radio demon of all people.

No matter the case, Alastor doesn't want to give his real name. So he wracks his brain for something that wont give him away. He cant just use Al, that's too obvious. Wait... Alastor-Al-A...A... A-nonymous? Anon? Yeah. Anon could work.

(This is Alastor's own line of thinking of how he 'came up' with the name. The boomer has no idea this is actually a common internet pseudonym because I doubt he has ever touched a computer)

Anyway, Alastor ends up telling the reader to call him Anon. The two of them end up talking alot. The rest of the hotel finds it rather comical to see the radio demon on his phone texting someone with a grin on his face.

Alastor actually gets pretty fast at texting with his stupid flipphone. Eventually, under Angel's suggestion, Alastor does end up "upgrading" to one of those phones with the slide out keyboard. He still draws the line at smartphone.

But everyone finds the whole thing rather adorable. Charlie always giggles to Vaggie about how soft his eyes get whenever he sees a new text from the reader. Rosie teases him nonstop about his 'paramour' and ends up suggesting that Alastor try to meet them in person.

At the first thought of it, Alastor's stomach drops. He still hasn't actually told them who he is. But the more he thinks about it, the more Alastor thinks a meeting between them is inevitable. He has never felt this way about anyone before; and he needs to deal with it one way or another.

So Alastor arranges an in person meetup. However, he STILL doesn't actually tell the reader who he is. He plans it as a surprise. The purpose of this is twofold; Alastor thinks this will be a wonderful surprise (he is the fantastic radio demon after all!), and it will serve as a test to see if the reader actually likes him.

The secret third reason is that Alastor is actually scared of what the reader's reaction will be and is avoiding it until the ninth hour when he literally cannot anymore. But he would rather die then admit that.

The reader asks Alastor what he looks like and other, you know, obvious things they should know for when they meet. But Al dodges the questions and tells them that they will know everything and learn who he truly is when they finally meet.

Well the time comes. The reader shows up to the designated meeting place, a semi public location. Then they see him. The Radio Demon.

The reader's eyes meet his and they freeze in terror as he approaches them with a knowing, determined stride. They are mortified when Alastor kisses them on the back of the hand; calling them darling and confessing that he was the one who they had been talking to all along. 

The reader backs off, stuttering an apology and a half hearted excuse to leave before quickly running off. Alastor’s smile never wavers. But it can be seen in his eyes and the way his ears have flattened against his head that he had hoped for a better reaction.

Alastor makes his leave before he can embarrass himself further. When he goes to text an apology, his number has already been blocked. He swears he feels a foreign pain in his chest in that moment.

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Mockingbird ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor begins fall in love with the reader. Driven by his strange feelings, he starts to compose little songs that he hums/sings to himself. The songs are inspired by the things he likes about them, things that make him think of the reader, and ways he sees their presence improving the hotel. 

There is even a special one dedicated specifically to their laughter. A tune that he made to resemble how melodic he finds it. 

Charlie and Vaggie start to notice Alastor singing to himself all the time. How his eyes soften and his smile turns wistful as he sings. Its how they realize that, holy shit, the guy has fallen in love.

They think that the songs are how Alastor is choosing to ‘deal’ with his feelings and that he is using them as an outlet. Not realizing he is composing them himself.

So other then like the weird love singing to himself there really aren't signs of Alastor having a crush, especially not one on you. So it kinda becomes like this big mystery that Charlie is determined to solve. Charlie holds a 'top secret meeting' and drags the rest of the hotel into it. Who has Alastor fallen for?? She will find out dangit.

I also have the image of at least one of the songs being composed entirely in French. So like Alastor finds the reader asleep at some point, maybe they fell asleep on him or they fell asleep somewhere out of exhaustion, but either way, Alastor ends up singing the song he composed for them while they sleep.

Alastor gently picks you up and cradles you to his chest. Singing all the while. He takes you to your room and tucks you in, singing the song as if it were a lullaby. The reader half wakes up at some point and hears him, but cant understand the words.

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Chasing Shadows ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basically a really sweet girl checks into the hotel. Maybe she just has that southern belle vibe or reminds Alastor of his mama or whatever; but the point is he has an immediate soft spot for her. 

Anyway Alastor quickly picks up how guarded and almost paranoid she is. Her eyes always seem to be darting around or looking into the distance for something. Although she is quick to help others, she dashes anyone elses attempts to help her. Alastor finds it very odd.

Then Alastor’s shadows start reporting of ‘incidents’ happening around the hotel, mostly around the new guest. Her things going missing, gifts and letters being left outside her door if not outright in her room, and the one that pissed Alastor off the most was one of the shadows saying they even found a small camera had been placed in her room.

Alastor isnt stupid; he knows someone is stalking the poor girl. And he is seething. Part of it is anger and outrage at someone daring and succeeding at breaching his territory of the hotel, and the other half of his anger is at such a disgusting creature thinking that they are entitled to treat a woman this way. 

Alastor quickly puts more shadows around the new guest's room, having every entrance and exit watched for the intruder. Yet the stalker manages to slip by him again, leaving a bouquet of flowers as well as stealing a pair of undergarments. 

Alastor nearly kills the poor shadow that informs him of this. How could they let someone slip past them again??

You got the gist of how this story goes. Ive had this sitting in my ideas folder forever cause I love it alot but, realistically speaking, Im not going to write it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So either someone else can use it or you can just brainrot about it with me.

The big twist is the demon that is stalking the new guest has the power to turn into/manipulate cockroaches. That's how they are able to traverse the hotel so easily and undetected. 

Wasn't sure if I wanted to go all in on that and make him an actual roach boy or not. You could also make the demon a Jewel Wasp which is a bug known specifically for mind controlling cockroaches.

Since the stalker is cockroach themed, I also had the idea floating around that Niffty would be the one to finally catch them in the end.

I was picturing the relationship between the new guest and Alastor to be strictly platonic; with like big brother/dad protection vibes. Basically Alastor just wants to protect someone who he sees as a ‘lady’ from a disgusting man. Its his southern trauma kicking in hard

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LINKS AND FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

My Masterlist for my Other Work: >>HERE<<

AO3 Archive Link: >>HERE<<

[thefrogman]

Hey Froggie! I need to take better product photos indoors. I have a decent camera, and great success shooting outside, but I really hate being at the whims of the weather when I need pics of new items. Most of what I shoot is small (under 1 foot long, often 6” or less), and I’m setting up small staging areas with little props for them. I have a couple tabletop lights with tracing paper covers to diffuse them a bit, but I struggle getting enough light. If I only have space and budget for one big floor light, is there a model or brand you’d recommend looking at for maximum lighting returns?

I've been struggling with some health issues and don't have a lot of energy. But I did want to give you a few quick suggestions and hopefully if I feel better in the future I can answer more in depth. I've been wanting to make a post about this with cheap lights and basic equipment and shooting my own examples, but the energy has eluded me.

Without a budget it's hard to give a recommendation for new lights, but COB (chip on board) video lights can be found for around $100-150 these days. I would say 2 of those with a "bowens mount" would be able to do just about any product photography with no trouble. The bowens mount allows you to apply photography grade reflectors, diffusors, soft boxes, etc. Neewer is a budget brand that makes surprisingly sturdy equipment. It's an investment, but you will find working with proper lights will make things a lot easier.

That said, I have used ordinary desk lamps with great success. Better lights are easier to work with and much more convenient, but light is light. I was just playing around with my mom's red stapler that she liked because it was red and didn't realize it was from Office Space.

I used desk lamps, diffusion material, and also... a smartphone. And while it was a bit of a pain in the ass compared to my old studio setup, I was really surprised with the results.

I do miss my studio though.

But I'm hoping to rebuild it soon.

My point being... having better lights isn't always necessary and you may find it does not improve your situation much without changing a few other important things.

First, if you shoot with a tripod you can increase your shutter speed and even if the lights aren't very bright, they can still work. You just need to be sure you are in a very dark environment and the lights for your photos are the only ones affecting the exposure. You don't want light from a window or overhead light mucking things up.

But I think your biggest issue is how you are using diffusion. Tracing paper is actually great inexpensive diffusion, especially for gradient lighting. (Savage Translum or Lee Filters 216 white diffusion would be the professional equivalent). But by attaching it directly to the light you are limiting your options greatly. I would create tracing paper panels that you can move closer and farther away from your lights. Just create some kind of DIY frame so you can stand them up vertical and move them around your lights. Or you can just hold the diffusion in front of the light if you need to. Make the panels as big as your space allows.

By seperating the diffusion from the lights you can play with moving things closer and farther apart. Move the light closer for a harder light source. Move the tracing paper panels closer to your subject for a larger light source. The permutations are endless and a lot of fun to experiment with.

Just remember...

Bigger light source = soft light Small light source = hard light Light close to tracing paper = short gradient Light far from tracing paper = long gradient

When using the tracing paper, remember the surface area of the paper is your light source, not your actual light. So the closer you move that surface to your subject, the bigger and softer the light becomes.

So to summarize, make your room really dark, put the camera on a tripod, get the tracing paper off the lights and see what you can come up with.

Also, here is a Karl Taylor video where he uses only desk lamps to do a high end wine bottle photo. His "scrims" or diffusion panels are huge and you can build your own much smaller. They only need to be that big if you start taking photos of bigger stuff.

And this is his video on diffusion material which might be helpful too.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Long Covid activist Meighan Stone didn't want to take her mask off. After pressuring her multiple times, an ER nurse called security on her. This public health failure happened at Sibley Hospital in D.C. These incidents are happening on a regular basis now as mask bans and proposals spread from L.A. to New York. You're not going to hear much about it in the news. When you do, it's framed as a problem for the vulnerable, with blue fascists freely associating masks with crime and hate.

None of the handful of stories that discuss these mask bans mention that we're currently in the middle of a deep Covid surge, at a million cases a day. None of them talk about mask bans in the context of Long Covid in adults and children.

A widely cited study declaring "strikingly low" rates of Long Covid in children was recently retracted due to major flaws in methodology. The researchers who pushed for this retraction are heroes and champions of truth.

Is the media covering that?

Not really.

To their credit, Time did recently run a very important piece on Long Covid in children, focusing on a recent study published in JAMA.

Here's the highlight:

They estimated that 20% of the previously infected younger children and 14% of the previously infected adolescents met that threshold [for diagnosis]. Kids infected before the Omicron wave were especially likely to fall into the Long COVID category. Those numbers are higher than some previous estimates—for example, a recent U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report concluded that only about 1% of U.S. kids had had Long COVID as of 2022. But other studies have come to similar conclusions, estimating that somewhere between 10% and 20% of kids who catch COVID-19 will develop long-term complications.

Media outlets like USA Today and NBC are also covering this study. For once, major news networks are devoting attention to something that deserves it. Of course, they're doing it after years of running stories blaming children's school performance and developmental delays on smartphones and lockdowns.

Earlier this year, The New York Times published a misleading, biased story on the "long-lasting" harm of school closures. And The Washington Post recently ran a story also blaming absences on everything except Long Covid and immune system damage. Even Education Week has run pieces attributing weak academic performance to school closures and stress, not the virus itself. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. Pick a magazine or newspaper and you'll find stories like these, but very few talking about the ongoing harm of exposing children and teenagers to Covid. The ones that do are almost always sitting behind a paywall.

Absence speaks louder than words, and not just about Covid.

In 2022, barely 1 percent of all corporate television focused on climate change. That was, in fact, a record high. A year later, it fell 25 percent. That was 2023, the year we surpassed 1.5C of warming for all practical purposes. It was the hottest year in recorded history, and also the worst year for climate disasters, costing us $600 billion in the U.S. alone. Entire countries shut down because it was too hot for work or school. All that, and the corporate media spent even less time talking about the problem. Meanwhile, one columnist after another published long screeds against doomers and fearmongers, insisting that we still had plenty of time to turn things around.

A compelling piece by Ryan Hagen breaks down the unsettling relationship between western news media and the fossil fuel industry. As he points out, internal reports from companies like Exxon celebrate their campaign to turn liberal news outlets like The New York Times in favor of their own industries, convincing the public they were working hard to shift toward renewable energy when the plan was always to use it like icing on top of a cake made out of coal.

Tireless work by Amy Westervelt has chronicled the impact of these campaigns. As her research shows, climate change has morphed from a topic that 80 percent of the public felt an urgency about to, now, a divisive issue and a point that most people would rather not talk about. On top of that, think tanks like the Atlas Network have made a major push to criminalize peaceful climate protests and turn public opinion against activists. A Yale study found that more than 60 percent of Americans hardly ever hear anything about climate change now.

And if you bring it up...

You're a doomer.

There has been a concerted effort across the internet to paint anyone who actually cares about the future as a deeply unhinged fearmonger. Meanwhile, social media giants like Meta have relentlessly censored information about Long Covid.

Have you noticed?

Nate Bear pulled the curtain back on how the media works roughly a year ago. As he puts it, "A lot of the stories you see in the headlines are the result of a PR agency. And depending on the news, the PR agent might not send out a release en-masse but “sell in” the story as an exclusive to just one outlet... Every day a proportion of all news you read starts at just a handful of these agencies."

PR firms are constantly wooing journalists, creating an atmosphere where conflict of interest is more of a feature than a bug.

Caitlin Johnstone did a thorough breakdown of mass media bias. Perhaps the most egregious example: MSNBC reporter Krystal Ball leveled blunt but accurate criticism of Hillary Clinton's 2016 campaign and correctly predicted that she would lose against Donald Trump because of all her neoliberal baggage. In response, the Clinton campaign threatened the entire network "not to provide any access during the upcoming campaign." The head of the network told Ball that she "could still say what I wanted, but I would have to get any Clinton-related commentary cleared with the president of the network."

So, she couldn't say whatever she wanted.

Right?

Johnstone cites a piece by Jeff Cohen in Salon that also outlines the peer pressure, groupthink, and careerism that dominates the newspapers, magazines, and mainstream news networks in the U.S.

As she further explains:

Journalists either learn how to do the kind of reporting that will advance their careers in the mass media, or they don’t learn and they either remain marginalized and unheard of or they get worn down and quit.

Christopher Hedges, who left The New York Times after a written reprimand for criticizing the Iraq War, has gone on to describe in disturbing detail how the U.S. media caters to the Israeli government, continually overlooking its war crimes. An outspoken critic of U.S. policy, Hedges has endured persecution for speaking the truth, including the cancellation of his news program for defending other writers and real journalists from charges of antisemitism.

Another outspoken critic, Mehdi Hasan, was dropped from MSNBC for speaking out over Palestine. As Sharon Zhang wrote after the decision, "Hasan has been one of the only news anchors on a major broadcast outlet speaking up against Israel's brutality." He was also one of the few news anchors who told the truth about Covid. As Hasan recently made clear in The Guardian, it's imperative for Democrats to take a stronger, pro-humanitarian stance on Gaza and break with Biden's approach, which has sparked outrage and disgust across the left.

Hasan makes a remarkable point in this column, looking to history for cues about how Democrats need to act to ensure history.

It's not vibes.

It's guts.

Nobody really remembers Hubert Humphrey, LBJ's vice president who lost the 1968 election to Richard Nixon by about a percentage point. It's a lesson worth talking about. Humphrey was losing badly because he couldn't stand up to his own party, the Democrats, who were actually very, very pro-Vietnam War. He managed to close the gap considerably in the 11th hour of the race, finally standing up to his own party and promising to end the war if he became president. Hasan wonders what would've happened if he had trusted his gut sooner.

Well, history gives us a few clues. After all, Nixon did end the war. In the decades since, the Vietnam War has gone down in history as one the biggest mistakes the U.S. ever made. Psychologists use it as a case study of entrapment in escalating conflicts. It's a touchstone used to rate our other failures.

Time and again, history tells us that doing the right thing actually serves political expedience far more than vibes.

Democrats could ensure a landslide victory if they would just take a clear stance on our biggest threats and challenges. They could be honest about Covid. They could stand up against mask bans. They could stand up against genocide. They could renew their promise to take on climate change.

We're not seeing that.

Instead, we see the same groupthink and indirect censorship that dominates the news media. It's not a surprise, given how entwined they've become.

Look at what's happening to Taylor Lorenz.

Outlets like The Washington Post and NPR, who pride themselves on their devotion to democracy and diversity, have assailed Lorenz for referring to Biden as "a war criminal" in a private social media post.

Here's the worst part of NPR's story:

Lorenz has also courted controversy, online, in print, and in real life. During the peak of the pandemic, and since its ebb, she has inspired mockery from conservatives over her insistence on wearing masks, even outdoors. She has cited autoimmune issues as the reason.

Look at the verbs here. Far from objective, they describe Lorenz as "insisting" on wearing a mask "even outdoors," and then frame her autoimmune issues not as a reality but as a reason, almost an excuse. For the record, multiple studies have shown that Covid spreads outdoors, especially at crowded events.

This is what writers and real journalists deal with as they try to do the right thing. It's disturbing to watch.

Both Jared Yates Sexton and Sarah Kendzior have expressed an ambivalent reluctance to get on board with the vibes as the DNC hosts their national convention. The kindest thing Sexton can say is that "It was a masterful feat of political theater" as organizers clambered to put down pro-Palestinian protests during speeches and tilted cameras away from violence and toward more soothing, therapeutic shots of Tim Walz with his family.

As Kendzior writes, "Today both the Democratic and Republican parties operate on cult logic, which means they sometimes have the same policies, but wrapped in different rhetoric--because cultists will abide anything so long as their leader is the one pushing it. Policies they would protest if they were carried out by the other side are suddenly deemed acceptable when pushed by their own."

The same goes for media coverage.

It's worth pointing out that Kamala Harris no longer supports a ban on fracking. She no longer supports a single-payer healthcare system, otherwise known as "Medicare for all" which would provide healthcare access to everyone. Her stance on border patrol and police funding have all shifted right. The media signs off on it, saying "Progressives said they’re disappointed but still support her as she works out the best strategy to defeat former President Donald Trump — even if it means leaving their cause behind."

But it's not just causes getting left behind.

It's human beings.

Is it simply a desire or a wish that nurses don't call security on us because we want to wear masks at an ER, like Meighan Stone? Do we have to leave our human rights behind so we can ensure our human rights?

Do we have to lay down our lives for vibes?

That's the current groupthink.

So there you have it.

The media doesn't report the truth. They spend about 1 percent of their time on things that actually matter. Politicians cater to an underinformed public, creating a self-fulfilling prophecy that leads to nurses calling security on immunocompromised patients for wearing a mask, while newspapers and networks fire real journalists for daring to do their jobs.

It's really something, isn't it?

It doesn't help when readers and viewers complain anytime someone salts their mood with the truth. In an era where free, independent content matters more than ever, it's also harder than ever to come by. How are content creators supposed to tell the truth or talk about things that matter when they're constantly being reprimanded, penalized, and punished every time they try?

We desperately need a free press, and we need a public that supports a free press and not silos of dueling echo chambers.

You get what you support.

It's that simple.