#if i could just feed prompts into an AI for what i want

[succliberation]

Does the ai stuff worry you at all or are you just like looking forward to things to come? (I know I am)

Also based blog luv u

Hiiiii 💙

I'm both excited and scared for AI lol. I'm a video editor, a writer, a youtuber, and an... artist (if you can count my twisted scribblings as art lol). AI is going to have uses that can help me with all of these things. I got back into writing fanfiction again by chatting back and forth with a writing AI while I worked up the courage to go back to writing for real again. AI's in video editing is going to save sooooo much time for professionals as it begins to be integrated into the process.

However, it's also possible that entire industries will be wrecked. Copywriting? Writing for commercials, advertisements, merchandising? What about graphics in general, or graphic design? All of those things are jobs done by humans that will probably be taken by AI.

I wish that industrialization had progressed so that significantly more manual jobs were taken by robots BEFORE we have these creative jobs that could be taken by AI. But hopefully one will lead to the other. We're lucky enough to maybe? Possibly? Be able to see a huge automation of jobs in our lifetime and a shift in society as humans don't NEED to work anymore. I'm just scared of how bad things will be in the short term for the people who get displaced from their work before we have the systems in place to support them.

[inkskinned]

the rise of AI art isn't surprising to us. for our entire lives, the attitude towards our skills has always been - that's not a real thing. it has been consistently, repeatedly devalued.

people treat art - all forms of it - as if it could exist by accident, by rote. they don't understand how much art is in the world. someone designed your home. someone designed the sign inside of your local grocery store. when you quote a character or line from something in media, that's a line a real person wrote.

"i could do that." sure, but you didn't. there's this joke where a plumber comes over to a house and twists a single knob. charges the guy 10k. the guy, furious, asks how the hell the bill is so high. the plumber says - "turning the knob was a dollar. the knowledge is the rest of the money."

the trouble is that nobody believes artists have knowledge. that we actively study. that we work hard, beyond doing our scales and occasionally writing a poem. the trouble is that unless you are already framed in a museum or have a book on a shelf or some kind of product, you aren't really an artist. hell, because of where i post my work, i'll never be considered a poet.

the thing that makes you an artist is choice. the thing that makes all art is choice. AI art is the fetid belief that art is instead an equation. that it must answer a specific question. Even with machine learning, AI cannot make a choice the way we can - because the choices we make have always been personal, complicated. our skills cannot be confined to "prompt and execution." what we are "solving" isn't just a system of numbers - it is how we process our entire existence. it isn't just "2 and 2 is 4", it's staring hard at the numbers and making the four into an alligator. it's rearranging the letters to say ow and it is the ugly drawing we make in the margin.

at some point, you will be able to write something by feeding my work into a machine. it will be perfectly legible and even might sound like me. but a machine doesn't understand why i do these things. it can be taught preferences, habits, statistical probability. it doesn't know why certain vowels sound good to me. it doesn't know the private rules i keep. it doesn't know how to keep evolving.

"but i want something to exist that doesn't exist yet." great. i'm glad you feel creative. go ahead and pay a fucking artist for it.

this is all saying something we all already knew. the sad fucking truth: we have to die to remind you. only when we're gone do we suddenly finally fucking mean something to you. artists are not replicable. we each genuinely have a skill, talent, and process that makes us unique. and there's actual quiet power in everything we do.

[gladiatorcunt]

- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa���s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

[mrs-dr-reid]

In the Still of the Night

Pairing: Aaron Hotcher x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aaron and the Reader are relishing in the first night with their newborn baby

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff, babes.

Warnings: Newborn Dad!Hotch. That's a warning in and of itself. Also potentially inaccurate depictions of post-birth protocol at hospitals, brief mentions of breast feeding, and other stuff I can't think of right now

A/N: Inspired by this prompt for @imagining-in-the-margins's Kid Fic Challenge: "Character witnesses a quiet moment with their partner and their baby during a night feeding", and title taken from the song by The Five Satins of the same name. Nursery image is AI generated.

Word Count: 1578

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Aaron never thought this day would come, but as he snuck glances in the rearview mirror at his wife watching their newborn daughter sleeping in the backseat (while he went as far under the speed limit as he could go without getting pulled over), he realized he finally had what he’d been waiting for: his beautiful baby girl. He’d been counting down the minutes until he could meet his baby since Y/N had told him she was pregnant, and now she was finally here.

Jocelyn Amelia Hotchner, his daughter, was born at 2:37 am on March 11, 2015. She was 20 inches tall, and she weighed 7 pounds and 3 ounces of pure love and joy. The second the team found out Y/N had gone into labor, they took over the hospital waiting room and stayed the entire time so they could be the first to know the gender, because both Aaron and Y/N had agreed they wanted it to be a surprise. Y/N had handled giving birth like a champ, and the usually stoic Aaron promptly started crying the second little Jocelyn was laid on his bare chest for contact bonding.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when Aaron came to find them (Y/N had to kick him out of the hospital room so he’d go and tell everyone the news face to face because if he’d had it his way, he would have just texted the group chat and stayed by her side for the rest of the night), and they all instantly stood up when they saw him standing there. Tears came to his eyes, and he managed to choke out, “It’s a girl!”, before the team swarmed him in a hug and offered their congratulations.

Y/N and Jocelyn had to stay at the hospital for 24 hours for observation, during which Jessica brought Jack to meet his brand new sister (whom he instantly fell in love with), but once they were given the all-clear, Aaron wasted no time getting his two best girls in the car and driving them home. It was just after 3 am when they pulled into the driveway, and Aaron turned off the car before turning around in his seat to look at Y/N, who was gazing at Jocelyn’s sleeping face with just as much love in her eyes as there was on their wedding day. He said, “Y/N, Honey, we’re home,” in a voice barely above a whisper because he didn’t want to wake the baby, so Y/N said, “Okay,” then carefully undid her seatbelt and the one securing Jocelyn’s car seat before getting out of the car.

Hotch grabbed the car seat, then followed Y/N up the front steps and into the house, tears threatening to flow when he realized this was the first night his daughter would be sleeping in her crib. He set the car seat on the floor, and Y/N instantly swooped in to unfasten Jocelyn and bring her upstairs to the nursery, Aaron following right behind her just in case (his Doting Husband and Father Mode™ has been dialed up to 11 since Y/N hit her second trimester).

When they first started prepping the nursery, Aaron was a tad bit skeptical when Y/N commissioned Penelope to paint a map of the US above the crib, but when Y/N explained her idea to put a glow-in-the-dark star sticker on whatever state he ends up in when he’s away on a case so he could technically be watching over the baby no matter where in the country he was, Aaron was too overcome with adoration to disagree with her. Now, as he watched his wife lay their daughter down to sleep in her crib, he felt that same surge of pride and love flow through him.

Despite being barely a day old, Jocelyn somehow already knew that crying in the middle of the night was a requirement because less than two hours after she was put to bed, Y/N woke up to the sound of her daughter’s wailings through the baby monitor. She let out a sigh, then slid out of bed and padded down the hallway to the nursery. She switched on the salt rock lamp Spencer had given them for a baby shower gift, and the second Jocelyn laid eyes on her mother, her cries lessened but didn’t go away completely, so Y/N cooed, “Oh, come here, My Little Love. Mama’s got you,” while lifting her from the crib and bringing her over to the rocking chair.

The second she sat down, Jocelyn immediately started mouthing on Y/N’s shirt over her breast, so Y/N laughed softly and said, “Okay, Hungry Girl, let’s get some milk in your belly,” before pulling down her sleep shirt and helping Jocelyn latch on. For a while, they just sat there together; Jocelyn eating and Y/N rocking back and forth in the chair while softly humming “Baby Mine” from Dumbo. Aaron, on the other hand, woke up to use the restroom and realized his wife wasn’t beside him. He only worried for a second because then he heard her soothing voice floating out of the baby monitor.

He smiled to himself, then rolled out of bed and walked as quietly as he could down the hall to poke his head into the nursery, and his heart melted all over again at the sight of Y/N feeding baby Jocelyn, the warm yellow light of the salt rock lamp making her look almost ethereal and the gentle white noise of her humming lulling the little girl back to sleep. Aaron let out a soft chuckle at the scene, and Y/N shifted her gaze up from her daughter’s sleeping face to see her husband in the doorway with a loving smile on his face.

She smiled right back and whispered, “Go back to sleep, My Love. I’ve got this,” but Aaron just shook his head and whispered back, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” before pulling the little pouf near the dresser over to the chair so he could be closer to his girls. Y/N rolled her eyes lovingly, but kept rocking Jocelyn regardless and whispered, “Is Jess bringing Jack home today?”, so Aaron replied, “Yeah, she said she’d pick him up from school and bring him back here,” in the same hushed tone, making Y/N nod and say, “Good. I’ve missed him,” before turning her attention back to her daughter, who was starting to make little disgruntled sounds while clenching her tiny fists.

Y/N tried to soothe her, but nothing seemed to be working until Aaron said, “Are you grumpy, Sweet Pea?”, and tickled her foot with his index finger, which instantly made her stop making noises. When neither Y/N nor Aaron did anything for a few seconds, Jocelyn started fussing again, so Y/N said, “Ah, okay. She wants Dada,” then started to slide the little girl into her father’s arms. The second Aaron had her held against his chest, she went completely silent save for a content coo here and there, which made Y/N giggle and say, “There we go, happy baby,” a chuckle escaping Aaron at that sentiment. He stood up and walked around the room with her while he said, “Yeah? You just needed some Daddy Time?”, and Jocelyn let out a sleepy baby noise before nuzzling into his chest, making tears come to his eyes before he kissed the mop of messy dark hair on top of her head.

Y/N draped a burp rag over his shoulder, then she said, “Would you mind burping her before you put her back down?”, and Aaron replied, “Not at all. Go on back to bed, Honey. I can handle it from here,” so Y/N smiled at him gratefully before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, smoothing a hand over Jocelyn’s messy hair with a whisper of, “Sweet dreams, My Little Love,” then wandering back to their bedroom with a barely suppressed yawn. He smiled as he watched her go, then turned his attention back to his daughter, who let out a yawn-hiccup combo.

Aaron burped her like Y/N had asked, then once he’d done that, he walked a few more laps around the nursery while gently bouncing Jocelyn and talking about whatever he could think of in the softest voice he could manage until she fell back asleep. He placed her in her crib, and when she curled up into a ball and grabbed onto the tail of the stuffed squirrel Penelope had gotten them, he smiled and whispered, “Goodnight, Sweet Pea,” before switching off the salt rock lamp and exiting the nursery as quietly as he could.

He used the bathroom like he’d originally intended, then slipped back under the covers and held his wife as close to him as was humanly possible. Aaron whispered, “I love you. Thank you for our daughter,” into Y/N’s hair, not knowing she was still awake until she squeezed his hand where it rested against her stomach and whispered back, “I love you more. Thank you for our son,” before snuggling impossibly closer to him. His breath caught in his throat, and a smile came to his face before he kissed the top of her head and let the sweet caress of sleep overtake him.

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CM Taglist: @homoose, @libraryofloveletters, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @boketto2-0, @aryaarathornson, @spoookymuulders, @nomajdetective

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[invidiia]

oh my god the yan!dazai x willing reader fic😭 i love reading this type of content (its a trauma response but the idea of someone obsessing over me brings me comfort </3)

Can you write something more for yan!dazai and reader? Like dazai somehow forgets his keys at home giving reader full access to run away/call for help, but when he comes back running to his apartment worried he sees them cooking something for him and what surprises him the most is the fact that he didn’t have most of the ingredients which means that they went outside to buy them and actually came back <3

❐ - yandere osamu dazai (bsd) with a reader who to left the house to make dinner.

note ; HII thank you for requesting!! and the beginning of the request really made me think, and i realized you were completely right and i relate deeply !! on another topic besides the request, i feel bad about writing ever since character ai came about, because what's the point of writing fics and hcs for people who can just make everything they want happen with ai?! but i'll continue, of course!! alsoo ada dazai

prompt ; dazai's beloved cooks for him after he left for the store.

warning ; kidnapping, possibly soft!yandere dazai AT FIRST, mentioned suicide (it's dazai)

masterlist - rules - previous work

when dazai finally trusts you enough to be by yourself while he went out to run errands, it was like you felt relief for the first time in years. maybe it was.

he didn't specify what he was doing, but he did seem like he would be out for a long time. but for whatever reason in the world, you didn't exactly plan to fully escape from him. maybe you were on something, because anybody else would have went as far as they could.

dazai kissed the top of your top of your head affectionately. "my dear," he addressed to you, his voice sweet, just like every other time he spoke. "i have to run errands, okay? can you promise me that you'll be good while i'm gone?" dazai rested his head on top of yours, holding you closely to his chest in a tight hug. you nodded your head against him, and he smiled. "i'll be off now, my love." and with that, dazai walked out the door, completely forgetting his keys on the table.

maybe you were drugged, high or some kind of intoxicated, because anyone would be overjoyed to see that their kidnapper left their keys with them, and they'd try to leave! i mean, dazai was normally cautious - how stupid of him this evening.

but for just some reason, any reason in the world, you didn't leave the house for freedom. instead it was for.. groceries? dazai did feed you often, but it was usually food from a local place that he liked a lot more than cooking, hence the reason there were barely any ingredients to make dinner with.

maybe you were doing this to gain trust and then turn your back on him later? well, it was too late, dazai left the keys here, and you were free to escape. so the first place you decided to go? the grocery store.

walking through the produce isle, you turned your head anxiously, looking behind your back to see if dazai found out you left and followed you. but no one was there, not at all. you were safe.

you gathered up money from inside your pockets when the man first took you - enough to buy a couple vegetables, a bag of rice, and a bit of chicken. that was enough for tonight!

upon your return to the apartment, nobody was there, so you got to work, having not been caught by dazai on your little outing to the store.

it was pretty easy to make fried rice. you found yourself in the kitchen chopping vegetables to put into the frying pan while you seasoned the chicken. dazai didn't have a ton of seasoning in his cabinets.. guess this guy liked his stuff plain? but you worked with what you had, and you were able to make a pretty damn good plate of chicken fried rice. the meal was perfect, and you had just finished when the door opened up. it was dazai. the brunette man opened up the door rather quickly, slipping inside the apartment. "belladonna.. this smells amazing!"

dazai was quick to praise your cooking, even telling you that he didn't want to eat your masterpiece in hopes of ruining it, but you told him to sit down and just eat it.

and that he did, and he loved it! he didn't act like anything was wrong, it went perfect! he praised your cooking skills the entire time while he ate.

even you forgot that you snuck out to retrieve your ingredients!

"belladonna," dazai spoke, sweetly. you were both nearing the end of the meal, with just two bites of the food left on the plate. "your cooking is absolutely perfect, you know that? i almost forgot that we didn't have any vegetables in the house." you tensed up. this was such a stupid idea, sneaking out to get ingredients for your meal. "i found those in the cabinet, you brought them home one night. don't you remember?" you lied nervously, biting up the inside of your mouth while you just silently begged he would believe you. "i would never think about willingly buying bell peppers unless i planned to cook such a meal. why would you leave the apartment, dear?" dazai slid his chair back, stepping towards you with his hands in his pockets. this was stupid, a stupid mistake that you can't undo. "no matter.. you didn't run away.. so what am i to do with you?" he grabbed a lock of your hair, pulling it upwards so you could face him. you cried out, whimpering in pain - but he paid no attention to it, looking you in the eye. "let's see."

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Wrong Number

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: James Potter/GN!reader

Summary: When your latest date stands you up, you decide to call your friend to come have dinner with you, but you call the wrong number.

No pronouns are used for reader. Only the nickname love is used.

Notes: This is written for Day 13’s prompt for Flufftober: Wrong (…). @flufftober

I don’t own Harry Potter or James Potter.

This account is anti-JKR and is a safe space for all.

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You got stood up for yet another date. What was wrong with you? It had to be with you, didn’t it? You pulled out your phone and scrolled down to your best friends name and called her. You couldn’t remember her new number, so you had to go through your contacts to find her.

When she picked up, before she’d even had a chance to speak, you said, “Hey, I got stood up again. Could you please come and have dinner with me? I really want to stop looking pathetic.”

When she answered, the voice sounded deeper, and like your crush; James Potter’s voice, “Alright, love. Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”

You were embarrassed that you had called the wrong number, you pulled the phone away from you and saw that it was in fact James’ number that you called. Instead of telling him, you gave him the name of the restaurant, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t leave.”

“Thank you, James,” you said to him, just before you hung up.

The night may have started out badly with you being stood up, but could a wrong number change your evening?

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Jake would also be a great fit for the prompt I just sent you, I copy-pasted the prompt from my notes app prompts list and forgot to change the name.

part of my 500 follower celebration!!!

Never Letting Go

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, angst, fluff, p in v sex, penetration sex, mentions of money, cowgirl/missionary, jake being in LOVE, me knowing nothing about the military

wc: 1.7k

a/n: ok i had so much fun writing this one so i hope you guys like it!!

prompt: you break up with Jake to try and make sure he doesn’t turn down the dagger squad’s permanent stationing in order to stay with you, and Jake is not having any of that and fucks you so well he shows you just how much he loves you and isn’t letting you go?

absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that

You and Jake have been together for almost 2 years. You met in your hometown of Dallas, Texas; you worked in an office in Dallas’s CBD and Jake was stationed just outside of Dallas.

The two of you had run into each other at the grocery store, Jake was fairly new to the area, having grown up in Austin, and he looked a little lost, so feeling pity on him, you decided to help him out. After the long - but not grueling - shopping trip, Jake offered to take you out and of course you accepted.

Ever since then you’ve been attached at the hip. Until now.

Only months ago, Jake was called back to Top Gun for a dangerous, top secret mission. And since his team’s performance during the mission was so high, the squad was offered a permanent spot as a special operations team at Top Gun Academy.

When he told you the news you couldn’t help but be ecstatic for him because you know he’s worked so incredibly hard for this.

You dwelled on the pros and cons of moving to California when you realized that you were only holding Jake back, there was no way that he would go without you but you couldn’t just pick up your entire life and move out to San Diego. I mean you have a job and a life here! Not to mention how expensive Cali is! You just didn’t want him to stay because of you.

There was no way in Hell that you would get between him and his job, so you made the toughest decision, probably of your entire life. You have to break up with him.

You made sure everything was ready by the time he got back to your shared apartment. Dinner was made, the space was cleaned, the table was set, and your head was a mess.

He greeted you with the most loving smile as he walked in the door, which only made a pit form in your stomach. How are you supposed to end things with the person you love most in the world?

Halfway through dinner you decided to start, “Jake, about your job,”

“Yeah, isn’t it amazing, baby?”

“It is so amazing and I am so happy for you because you deserve this more than anyone,” you trailed off and he picked up on your tone.

“But you don’t think I should take the offer?”

“No! No, that’s not it. I think you should take the offer. But I also think we should break up,” you whispered the last part into an almost silent room.

Jake dropped his fork immediately and froze, “Excuse me?”

“I think we should break up. I’m holding you back Jake, I don’t want to get in between you and what you love most,”

“Baby, you are what I love most,”

“Jake, please just listen. I love you so much and you know I only want the absolute best for you. And I think this is the best option for you, for us.”

Jake stood abruptly and paced around the small living room. He didn’t say a word.

“Please say something,” you stood closely behind him.

“We’re not breaking up,”

“You have to take this job, it’s everything you’ve been working up to and I am not going to be the one to hold you back and—“ he cut you off sharply with a kiss and mumbled into your mouth.

“I would never leave you,” he nipped at your jawline and the higher parts of your neck.

This could not be happening right now. This was not how this night was supposed to go, but you couldn’t stop a slight moan escaping from your lips. If you were going to leave him, you felt like you deserved one more time with him.

You pushed him away to hold his face. You looked into his eyes, then found his lips, and kissed them roughly, “Please Jake, I need you, one last time,”

That’s all he needed to hear and he had you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He tossed you on the bed, practically ripping his shirt off, he hovered above you, taking your shirt and bra off next.

He sucked on your chest, leaving love bites on the very top of your breasts. “I’m going to fuck you stupid until you get this idea of you holding me back out of your head.”

He moved down to your shorts, pulling them off as quickly as possible, taking your underwear with them.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, making his was up to your core.

He removed his mouth and let two of his fingers press inside of you. He kissed up your stomach as he pumped his fingers deep inside of you and relished in the way you were almost incoherently moaning.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he held down your hips as he began to lightly suck on your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a pornographic moan.

You didn’t mean to feel the need to release so quickly but you couldn’t help it. You wanted every part of him and you didn’t want to leave him.

He quickened his pace causing you to scream out with pleasure. He pulled his fingers from you and sucked your juices off his hand.

He unbuckled his belt and yanked down his pants, pulling out his hard length. He teased your entrance with his cock, slapping the surface lightly. You were almost a whimpering mess underneath him.

He finally pushed into, both of you letting out a long noise of satisfaction. Jake murmured curses of pleasure under his breath and his thrusted into you.

He had you on your back, your legs on either side of him. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist and thrusted into you harder.

Jake was now leaning completely over you, his hand on either sides of your breasts, him kissing down your neck, and his stupidly hot dog tags dangling over you as you practically screamed out for him.

He pulled back from your neck and started kissing down your chest again, loving the way your boobs moved as he fucked you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his back as he starts thrusting at a faster pace.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good for me,” God he may as well just get you pregnant at this point.

You started to feel a build in your stomach, again. You could tell he was close too because his thrusts started to falter.

He began to pull out to cum, when you tugged him closer to you, keeping him inside. He looked at you with a hunger as you both reached your climax, crying out profanities.

He hung his head low until flipping you over until you were sitting on top of him. He pushed himself up the bed, propping himself up, you still on top.

Holding down your hips, a firm grip on them, you began to bounce up and down on his cock. He finally speaks for the first time, rebounding from the babbling mess you had made of him earlier.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you here,”

You wrapped you arms around his neck for a steadier ride. “Jake-“

“I don’t care, I will turn it down,”

“Absolutely not,” you began to bob faster as you got more flustered, “I want you to go, Jake,”

“I want you to go with me, I thought that was a given,”

“But my job, we can’t afford for only one of us to work,”

He moved his hands up and down your torso, grabbing and squeezing at your tits.

“Yes we can, I have a trust fund, I’ll make sure you never work another day in you entire life. I’ll make you my wife so you can live on base. Or we don’t have to live on base, I’ll buy us a mansion and whatever you want in it.”

There was nothing hotter than seeing the man you love offer to take care of you for the rest of your lives. You want to be with him so bad.

You want every part of him. His highs, his lows, his good days, his awful days, you want it all and everything in between.

Hearing him coax you down from the ledge only made you want him more. Pushing you over the edge of another orgasm. He took you lips with his as you finished for the third time, him for the second.

You pulled away off of him and curled up by his side, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your body and kissed your forehead gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you, baby. Don’t worry about any of this,”

“I want to go with you, Jake, if you’ll have me,”

“I want you more than anything on this entire planet, and don’t you doubt it for a second that I would never leave you,”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline, whispering close to him, “I love you, Jake.”

He looked down at you with gentlest expression you’ve ever seen and kissed you again, “I love you and I’m never letting you go.”

It was time to start a new chapter with the love of your life, (and Jake was right, he did fuck you stupid until you dropped the idea of you burdening him and holding him back).

[elexuscal]

ficlet prompt: fill in that scene scene where three tried to get mb to take its armor by pointing at it for like 3 minutes while everyone tried to figure out what it wanted

Adjustments

So. The SecUnit thing. The thing with the SecUnits. That thing.

Turi was adjusting pretty well to it all, they thought. You didn't get accepted to a job like this if you couldn't adjust quickly, or if you couldn't handle unconventional AIs. But the fact that the SecUnits looked so much like human made it that much easier to be taken by surprise when they didn't act like one. Like now, for example.

They were going through the ship's armoury, taking inventory, and putting things back where they belonged, after the invaders (or infected colonists, they supposed) had trashed the place. It had been a long-term project to clean the sheer scale of the mess, but they were finally getting things in order. Which was good, because things were heating up with Barrish-Estranza, and they needed to know where their equipment was if/when things finally caught fire.

Turi had been vaguely aware of Three leading SecUnit towards the lockers. (Yes, it was mildly that one SecUnit just went by 'SecUnit'.) They'd glanced at the pair, then away, since both SecUnits were sensitive to that kind of thing. (Which was kind of hypocritical, to be honest, but then when you'd escaped corporate brain slavery, you were entitled to a little hypocrisy Turi supposed.) Mostly Turi's attention had been occupied with ensuring all of the flashlights were functional, while the rest wished they could help sort the weapons, and idly wondered if the captain would let Turi get fire-arm certified during the off-season....

That was when Perihelion poked them in the feed. {Turn around.}

Obediently, Turi turned around.

The two SecUnits were still standing by the locker. Three was pointing at it. Turi would have assumed it was having a silent conversation in the feed, and maybe it was, but clearly that wasn't helping, because SecUnit turned around and looked Turi in the eyes with an expression that could only be described as 'pleading'.

(Well, and irritated. But SecUnit always looked irritated.)

"What is it?" Turi asked, careful to keep their voice upbeat and pleasant.

"It won't tell me," SecUnit groused. Whined, even.

"My armour is inside."

"Right." Turi tilted their head. "Do you need help getting the locker open..?"

"No," said Three.

"No," said SecUnit.

With a click, the locker opened. Peri. It could have done that like two minutes ago, Turi thought. What game was it playing here?

Even though the armour was now sitting there, Three did not move towards it.

"Do you... want to put it on?" Turi ventured. "No."

Okay. Turi tried, "Is it damaged? Does it need repairs?"

"No," said Three. Its expression looked distinctly frustrated at this point.

Perihelion was annoyed too. {Obviously I would not have put it away if it was damaged.}

On their private connection, Turi said, {You can complain when you actually start facilitating this conversation.} The ship huffed.

"Do you need help putting it on?" Turi asked Three.

Again, it said, "No."

By now, their little confused knot had attracted attention. Overse came over from the other side of the armour. "Everything okay here?"

"We're fine," SecUnit said. That's the answer it gave any time now anyone so much as gave a ghost of a suggestion that it might not, in fact, be fine.

"Mmnhmn?" said Overse, more comfortable of expression her doubt than Turi was. "Three?"

"I am fine," Three said, with a stutter on that last word. It paused, "No one is using the armour."

"No," agreed Overse, after a pause. "Not right now. Would you like to be using it?"

"N--" Three began. Then stopped. "Someone should use the armour on the next ground mission."

Turi met Overse's gaze. Overse's eyebrows went up.

"It could be advantageous," Turi agreed. "Depending on the specific mission. Do you want to wear it?" They'd already asked, but maybe it just needed a little more gentle prodding.

Pointing at SecUnit, Three said, "SecUnit is more experienced than me."

Was it? Turi wasn't actually sure. More experienced as a free agent, certainly, but in total? Turi had no idea. Now that she thought of it, How old were each of the SecUnits? And how did age even work for them, anyway?

As Turi was wrestling with how to frame the question tactfully, Overse had managed to narrow in on the more concerning part of Three's statement. "SecUnit is more established on the team," she agreed. "But the armour is yours. It doesn't get to co-opt it from you. No one does."

"Yes," SecUnit said in a rush, "I don't want it."

Brow furrowed and lips twisted, Three said, "Why not?"

"Because I just do." It stepped away, like it was intending to march out of the room, then jerked to a halt. "I won't wear it."

"You don't have to," Turi said, almost in chorus with Overse. Overse tilted her head at them, letting Turi continue. "We have enviro-suits and other field-outfits that can work similarly to armour. Or we could modify this armour, if you'd prefer, Three."

{If we are going to deploy this armour, I recommend altering the color scheme,} Peri interjected with a sneer. {At the very least.} It was currently in BE orange and brown, which obviously would lead to some awkward questions. But no doubt their hyper-competent research transport would have a half dozen other ideas to improve the design.

"But..." If Three said anything more, it was over the feed.

Maybe it did. Clearly something happened the humans could not follow, because that was the point where SecUnit really did march out of the room. Three stared after it, bearing a painful resemblance to Turi's childhood puppy with separation anxiety.

Trying to banish that (somewhat) unfair comparison, Turi turned to Three wearing what they hoped was a comforting smile. "So! The armour! Would you like to make any changes?"

The 'like' word was a tough one with Three. The past month had made that abundantly clear. But it was adjusting. It said, "What changes are possible?"

Yeah, so, okay. They were all still adjusting to the rogue SecUnits thing. But this, Turi could work with.

[whumpninja]

I feel like even the prompt I used for this one could count as whump, given the ahem subject material. This piece uses OCs from my story The Angel of Death, and takes place about two years or so before the main story.

Taglist (let me know if you only want to be tagged in full chapters!): @i-eat-worlds @softvampirewhump @scoundrelwithboba @rainbowsandwhumperflies @octopus-reactivated @whumperfultime @pigeonwhumps @handsinmotion @starfields08000 @fleur-a-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby

Prompt used: AI-less Whumptober, alternate prompt- animal bite

Featuring: BLOOD, blood drinking, vampire whump, vampire whumpee, biting, chains, defiant whumpee

Whumptober Day Nine: The Hand That Feeds You

Mr. Moody was making progress. Angel wasn't fighting him so much anymore. He guessed that he’d plain worn the vampire out. Angel slept most of the time now, a combination of exhaustion, drugs, and the weakness that came with near-starvation. Mr. Moody wasn't stupid enough to leave him unchained, but he could enter the room now without worrying about if he would leave alive.

He whistled as he came in today, his good mood drawing the cheerful tune out of him. "Hey, Angel," he said. "How you feeling today, champ?"

Angel cracked one eye open to glare at him, but made no move towards him. He had his fangs extended, not to their full length, but not hidden away in his jaw. Mr. Moody still didn't know how that worked. There was a lot about vampires that was still a mystery- why they were burned by the sun, why some of them had red eyes, why most had only small fangs and a few had big fangs and claws to match.

"You showing off those pearly whites?" Mr. Moody asked, chuckling. "You'll get a chance to use 'em on Friday night. I found a fella who's got twin vampires. We'll see how you do against two at once, eh?"

Angel stared at him sullenly. "Do you even speak English?" Mr. Moody muttered. He honestly wasn't sure. The vampire never said a word to him. From what the officers who had brought him to Mr. Moody said, he hadn't been much before he'd been arrested. Mr. Moody was of the opinion that Angel- who clearly lived to kill- was doing better as his prize fighter than he would have in the outside world.

He'd seen it- the ferocity, the savagery, the brutality Angel used in the ring. The vampire was a wild animal. He had no technique, no skill, no training- just instinct and natural weaponry. Mr. Moody loved that first gasp from the crowd when they saw Angel's fangs on full display. "Nobody else got anything like you," he told the vampire.

Angel, as usual, ignored him.

Mr. Moody rolled his eyes as he left the alcove. "You know what, Angel?" he called back, his voice drowned out somewhat as he rummaged through a cupboard on the wall. "You ain't real personable. You got nothing in you but fightin'." He chuckled, pulling out a metal bowl and a bag of blood- surprising, how easy it was to get that stuff. "Lucky for you that's all I need anyway."

Like usual, Angel became agitated, more alive, at the smell of food. He had his hands cuffed behind his back, so he could only push himself up as far as his shoulder. His ruby-red eyes had expanded, taking over the whites until only a small ring of it remained. It was a vampire in feeding mode. Mr. Moody could almost see what little humanity remained fading away, consumed by the animalistic prey drive.

"That's the kind of thing I want on Saturday, y'hear?" he told the vampire, setting down the bowl. Angel threw himself at it, burying his face in it without a moment's hesitation. Mr. Moody knew he wouldn't let a drop go to waste. He stepped back to watch Angel eat, chuckling to himself. That was the trick with vampires- food. Control their supply of blood, and you controlled the vampire too.

He leaned against the wall, watching Angel eat. A smile twisted the edge of his lip. "Made for this, weren't ya," he said under his breath. "Born for blood. Born killer."

Angel no longer knew he was in the room, attention entirely taken up by the presence of blood. Mr. Moody took the opportunity to move in close and check the chains, make sure the bolts on the wall still held, all the things he needed his vampire distracted for.

Angel was finishing the last of the blood now. Mr. Moody dropped a hand onto his head, ruffling the shorn dark hair in a rare gesture of affection. "Keep killing for me, champ, and you'll get all the blood you could ever want," he chuckled. "Who knows? Maybe it'll even- aaauuughhh!"

The words broke off in a loud roar of pain as Angel surged up to sink a fang deep into Mr. Moody's arm. Mr. Moody shouted, stumbling back- Angel held grimly on, the sharp fang ripping a deep gash. Blood sprayed everywhere. Mr. Moody managed to rip his arm free and stumbled backward, gasping, clutching the wound.

Across the room, Angel locked eyes with him.

Mr. Moody swore at him, the pain stirring up anger along with it. "Think you did something, eh, vamp?" he snarled. "Think you can bite the hand that feeds you, huh? We'll see how long that attitude lasts without a drop of it!"

Slowly, deliberately, Angel licked what he could of Mr. Moody's blood from his face, never breaking his chilling red stare.

Mr. Moody lurched off the wall and kicked Angel in the jaw as hard as he could. The vampire went down, knocked unconscious.

"All right," Mr. Moody growled to the senseless creature at his feet. "That is the last damn time you bite a human ever again. Especially me. Hope you enjoyed it, champ. 'Cause you are gonna pay for every drop of blood."

[justkissmewip]

I read the intro post about this project and I was so curious, but before jumping in and reading the demo I decided to see the character post for A. And my excitement immediately died.

AI? Really?

I'm not opposed to the concept of AI alone, but right now it's just so deeply unethical. The ecological impact, the thousands and thousands of artists whose work was stolen and used to train those algorithms, sometimes leading to almost 1:1 copies of their creative work being produced and used for profit by someone else - those are all issues that are often discussed in creative spaces.

And even if you don't care about all that - how are your readers supposed to trust you? How are they supposed to trust that you're actually making what you're saying you're making instead of just feeding prompts to AI?

There are just so many ethical alternatives and some of them are even free. You could commission an artist. You could look through some archives for free use vintage illustrations of schools like the one you have in your header. You could use picrew for the character portraits to have that visualisation without reaching for AI. Some IF authors just find face claims among actors and celebrities.

It's just disappointing to see someone who's a part of this beautiful, vibrant, and creative group that is the IF writing community, use inventions that currently hurt artists all over the world.

Hmm, okay, this is a heavy one! Ha-ha, a post like this is definitely a good way to wake me up in the morning.

I want to apologize to artists on this forum (well, and all artists everywhere) for using AI art. I did it with no ill-will; I simply wanted a placeholder in the meantime so that readers could get an idea of what these characters look like. AI is a great tool for people who do not have the funds or access to other materials. But, this person makes some great points - there is a lot of uncertainty around AI, such as legality, and particularly the point about AI chatbots being trained using artists work without their permission. I really don't want to cause anyone harm, nor do I want to get into trouble honestly, so I'm going to stop using AI images from now on.

However, I do not appreciate the implication that using AI art is an automatic indication that I am using AI to generate my story and am no longer trustworthy. Writing interactive fiction is a lot of work, as I'm sure many of you know, and I take it very seriously. I want to produce the best product possible of course! So, rest assured that ChatGPT isn't currently churning out the next chapter of JKM. It wouldn't write Sawyer right anyways ;)

Art is not cheap, which makes a lot of sense, because artists deserve to be paid adequately for their work. So, I'm not going to look into art assets too much now until JKM is close to being finished, which is probably not any time soon if I'm being honest. I would rather wait and get some quality work that I think suits the characters then use anything else, especially since I personally imagine the characters in a more comic-book/anime style anyways. I apologize for that! But, the imagination is much better than any AI images I would have uploaded anyways.

To all artists, again, I am sorry! I appreciate and respect your hard work and efforts. I look forward to working with some of you as JKM progresses and I need to commission some art. Because trust me when I say I am not artistically inclined at all :).

To the person who wrote this, thank you for your great points. I can appreciate your passion about protecting artists. Hopefully you can give JKM another chance despite this setback.

Cheers,

Lucky

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

hi dove!! congrats on 100 followers!! ┌⁠(⁠・⁠。⁠・⁠)⁠┘⁠♪ if it's not already taken, i'd like to request the "long-distance relationship" prompt and 🥺🌃📞 with jade (bc im obvious)? for backup, maybe "stargazing" and 🌠🙏⛺ with deuce? as always, you don't have to write it if you don't want to

thanks for always spreading joy and chaos on my feed hahaha, you're such a sweetheart ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Long-Distance Relationship; Jade Leech

Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort

Word Count; 800 (on the dot)

AN; The final drabble for the 100-follower event, and the third Jade drabble! I hope you like the direction I took this in, Rinna! *hands you a tissue just in case* As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

It felt weird, being back home. Being in your bedroom, the one that had all your personal belongings. Your clothes. Your memories. You were back, no longer in Twisted Wonderland, which you dared not share with anyone else save they question you, or worse off, it wasn’t real. But it was real, the photos showed that much. Photos of your friends. Photos of all of the different events. Photos of the man that had captured your heart. A coy smile, a glint in his mismatched eyes, and hands that would gently hold yours. You missed Twisted Wonderland, you missed Jade.

You looked towards the window, seeing the faintest hints of the thin curve of the moon, and only the brightest stars being visible due to all the light. There was no magic… and everything seemed more dull without it. Of course, you would be struck with all these thoughts in the dead of night, with only the barking of the neighbour’s dog and the sound of far-off sirens keeping you company. It was no use staring out the window, or worse, the ceiling, and yearning for a place you couldn’t return to. So you got up and went to your desk, to look through the photos that still moved. That gave you bright smiles… that reminded you that your heart was elsewhere.

You stalled on the one photograph; it was a photo of Jade on a mountaintop, looking at you as the sun set behind him.

“Prefect, let me help you up. Are you alright, it seems like you tripped over something,” you heard his voice play in your head. The photo played on a loop, of him turning around and giving you a kind yet playful look. Of a perfect moment in time.

You didn’t even have time to give him a proper goodbye, having been sucked through a mirror suddenly; much like your sudden arrival. “I miss you,” you whispered. 

Closing the photo album gently, you went to the window. Nothing had changed since you left. All of your trinkets from over the years were still in their places. And you don’t really know what compelled you, but you picked up the small snail shell that you picked up from a shop, and you held it to your ear.

If you hold a shell to your ear, you’ll hear the ocean. So you listened, and while it did remind you of the crashing waves at the beach, it reminded you of Jade. Only once you get close enough could you hear them, telling you his thoughts only once you had earned his trust. Earned his respect.

“I find it humorous,” you heard him hum, “how my unique magic is Shock the Heart, yet with you, it feels like it has been cast on me.” 

You brought the shell to your lips. “Please, I just want to see him again. To hear him… please.” But the only thing that happened was a breeze coming through the window screen.

There was no magic, so wishes don’t come true here, especially not such large and impossible ones.

I should try to get some sleep… So you crawled back under the covers, clutching a pillow to your chest as you fell into a black, dreamless sleep. But after what felt like only a few short moments, you were jolted awake by the sound of the phone ringing. That’s weird, I usually keep it on silent… UGH, WHY IS IT SO LOUD?! It’s too early for this.

You blindly groped around for your phone, but once you had it in hand you realized it wasn’t the source of the ringing. You checked the landline, which was also not the source. The ringing wasn’t coming from either of the phones. “Where the hell is it coming from,” you muttered. “It’s too early for this!” The sun wasn’t even up yet!

But you found what was making the ruckus; it was the shell. That shouldn’t be possible. It can’t be possible. Shells don’t ring. There’s no magic here that could do that. But you picked it up, holding your breath.

“Hello?” It was Jade. By some miracle, the voice on the other side of the… shell? Phone? Shell phone? Was Jade.

You felt like your centre of gravity had shifted. “Jade,” you choked out.

You heard a soft exhale on the other side of the line. “After so many attempts, I finally found you.” For the first time, you heard so many emotions at once just in his voice. “We never got the chance, but, Prefe-... Y/N, I love you, and somehow, we will meet again.”

He feels the same. He… loves me. “I love you too.”

And the connection between shells never broke, and one day, the two of you shall meet again.

[vcendent]

art vs industry

Sometimes I'm having a good day, but then sometimes I think about how industry is actively killing creative fields and that goes away. People no longer go to woodworkers for tables and chairs and cabinets, but instead pick from one of hundreds of mass-produced designs made out of cheap particle board instead of paying a carpenter for furniture that is both made to last generations and leaves room for customization. With the growth of population and international trade, the convenience and low production costs are beneficial in some aspects, but how many local craftsmen across the world were put out of business? How many people witnessed their craft die before their eyes? There is no heart or identity put into mass produced items; be it furniture, ceramics, metalwork, or home decor; and at the end of the day everybody ends up with the same, carbon copy stuff in their homes.

I'm a big fan of animated movies, and I see this same thing happening too. When was the last time western audiences saw a new 2D animated movie hit theatres? I can't speak for other countries, but, at least in America, I believe The Princess and the Frog was the last major 2D movie released and that was back in 2009. Major studios nowadays are unwilling to spend the time and money that it would take to pay traditional animators who have spent years honing their craft to go frame by frame, and to pay painters to create scene backgrounds. We talk a lot about machines replacing jobs, but when the machines come, artistry professions are some of the first to be axed (in part because industry does not see artistry as "valuable" professions). Art, music, and writing are no longer seen as "real" jobs because they belong to the creative field and there's this inane idea that anyone who goes into those fields will be unsuccessful and starving. I'm not saying that 3D animation is bad, it has its own merits and required skills and can be just as impressive as anything 2D, but it has smothered 2D animation and reduced it largely to studios that cannot afford the tech to animate 3D.

And now we have this whole AI thing to deal with, stealing existing artists' work to "train" it to take over those few professions that, until now, required actual people to do them. Internet artists have already been dealing with people complaining about the price of art for years and now have to face their work being stolen to train AI. With AI technology, anyone who undervalues the work of the artist can now get something generated at little or no cost to them, all at the expense of the artists themselves. Why would studios pay script writers when they could just get an algorithm to do it without pay? Why pay actors to bring characters to life or pay models to pose for ads when CGI has progressed enough we could digitally render humans and cut out having to pay people entirely? Why use practical effects or film on location when green screens and adding in-post is faster and so much cheaper? It's no wonder we had the SAG-AFTRA strike. AI has already been trained to write children's books and produce music, continuing down this road will replace authors and musicians too at the convenience of cost. How much longer until the actual, real-life people behind all forms of artistry become completely obsolete?

Industry is just driving the cost of people-made crafts up and up with every mass produced product and every streamlined shortcut to reduce costs, which only makes it harder and harder for artists of all kinds to make a living, as very few people want to pay for the time and skill of artists when they could just pick something off a shelf or feed AI a prompt and get something satisfactory enough, yet not what they actually wanted, for so much cheaper.

[gladiatorcunt]

- EASTER EGG BASKET | VII.

together, intertwined, mouths bruised with love and souls bitten

cw: kinktober prompt (spit roasting), fem reader, age gap (reader in their 20s & cherik in their 40s), set during first class but they’re older and the school’s already established more, unprotected sex, teacher’s pet!reader, eventual teacher-student relationship, background established cherik and a mention of alex x hank, power imbalance, dubcon, lowkey coercion, “slut” used one time by you @ you, southern!reader, controlling older men :3

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“And what do we have here?”

You stop your mindless floating in the pool, freezing at the sound of a deep male voice. You knew exactly who it was from the very first disappointed breath.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, um, fancy seeing you here.” You bite your lip, awkwardly kicking your legs back and forth since your mutant ability unfortunately isn’t catapulting your body out of water.

“Yes, in the manor’s off limits after hours pool, how funny.” Erik says flatly, unamused. “Lights out was five minutes ago, my dear, care to tell me why exactly you aren’t in bed?”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck, “I just wanted to come cool off, I was going right back to bed da- sir, I swear.”

Great. Now your cheeks are hot at your near slip up, something that your teacher seems to catch. His lips quirk up on a barely there smile, and you suddenly wished you had the strong will to drown yourself right here right now.

“Oh, I wish I could believe you.” He tuts, not as willing to let you get away with shit like Charles, but Erik has his own soft spot for you. “And what are you wearing? Because I know that isn’t one of the school’s swimsuits.”

The piece in question being a skimpy pink two piece, the bikini top covers only the upper half of your breasts and ends just under your nipples. The bottoms of your tits hang out through a cut out and the straps of the bottom rest high on your hips. The strings are held together by a little studded heart.

“It’s something from home, southern summers are hot, sir.” You don’t hide yourself away in newfound shame despite that being what you’re feeling.

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing the ample mounds up and squishing them together. Erik’s cold eyes follow the movement and he swallows, but the same unimpressed look is still plastered all over his face. You want to pout and stomp your foot, but you’re lucky he hasn’t turned your ass in to Charles yet, maybe there’s a way for you to get out of this without a punishment of any kind.

“Yes, well.” His voice is gruff as he clears his throat, “Charles sent me to find you. He gets worried when you’re not where he expects you to be, where we both expect you to be, am I clear?”

Your guilt isn’t as believable when your ass cheeks are out for one of the teachers you’re insane over to leer at, but you do drown in it. You’re miles away from any family, and when your ultra religious southern family found out about you being a mutant, they called you a demon and promptly kicked you out. You’re lucky that Charles found you when he did, and the things he and later Erik learned that you had been through made them feel quite protective of you.

You know perfectly well that it feels good to be a teacher's pet at the top of the class who never does anything wrong in their eyes. To get male validation just for breathing in their general direction, especially when there are so many students here with similar if not worse sob stories. For you at least, it was love at first sight.

You just really needed this one little instance of rebellion, to do laps back and forth in the perfectly cool blue water until the thoughts of being stuck between teachers who are twice your age were washed away. And that was after you had played with your clit only to scream into your pillow because you couldn’t get over that peak.

“I know, I'm sorry it was just this one time. I’ll use the pool when it’s open during the day next time, I promise.” You nod, willing to just take the loss and say whatever Erik wants to hear so you go back to your dorm without this ever getting back to Charles’s ears.

With Erik, disappointing him is kind of sexy because he scowls and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms before he scolds you. He has rough hands that you can so easily imagine smacking the shit out of you, and you don’t just imagine him hitting your ass either.

Plus, his comfort hit so much deeper when he would cup your face and stroke a thumb over your hair, letting you the softness seep into his gaze when you promise to be good.

With Charles, disappointing him is still sexy, but you feel awful much quicker. He’s a real “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” kind of man, and seeing the way his mouth twists and he refuses to even look you in the eye has you shrinking like a violet. It takes a lot more begging to get his attention and even more sincere promises to do better to get him to smile again, chuckling and fondly exasperated as he instructs you to run along.

Erik is still in the bulging biceps phase, glaring down at you at the edge of the pool until something unreadable flashes across his vision. “You know what? You’re right, you are sorry, why don’t I keep you company in the pool if you’re so stressed? Since you can’t be trusted to not wander off on your own right now.”

Your eyes widen to the size of marbles as you watch your teacher strip off his hoodie and shorts, down to only his bare body, and jump in the pool beside you. You sputter and hurriedly wipe away the water that splashes your face. Erik chuckles and swims to brush up against your front, immediately grabbing your waist and digging his fingers into your flesh.

His hands drift up to run along the sides of your breasts, groping you through the wet fabric. You trace his stubble and whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip. Your breath hitches, helplessly staring into his eyes, not fighting or pushing him away. He gets the answer that he wants to the question in his eyes and sweeps you into a kiss, the swolshing of the water moving around you is the only thing you can hear other than your thundering heartbeat.

The rest, as they say, is history. Because you’re making out with Erik in no time flat and humping his bare cock the best you can in the water when a familiar throat clearing sound goes off like a gun above you. The heavy clack of his oxfords pounding the wet tile surrounding the pool, the fancy french cologne that you’ve imagined stealing and spraying on your pillow.

There he is, you had to know in the back of your mind that once Erik had gotten there, it was only a matter of time before Charles followed. You lick away the string of spit connecting you and Erik and smile your most charming smile, still humping him even as Charles frowns.

“S-sir, we were just- I’m gonna go back to bed soon, honest.” It’s flimsy and a god awful apology but you’re too horny to care. You can make it up to him after somebody screws your brains out, not a second before.

And Charles knows already, you can feel him in your mind and while you’re definitely self conscious about what he sees, you can’t help but sigh in relief when he starts unbuckling his belt after rifling around in there for a minute. His blue eyes seem more vivid to you now, watered with color in the face of your wildly inappropriate feelings.

“Do not think I'm not still upset with you, young lady, we have curfews for a reason and if you can’t follow them, you’ll be confined to going to your classes and going straight to your dorm.” His melodic voice warns you, but you can only beam and nod so he sighs, resolving to tell you again when you don’t have a singular thought bubble with a picture of their cocks in your brain.

“Yes yes yes, I promise this won’t happen again, just please, sir.” You’re not above begging already, part of being a teacher’s pet means doing what you have to do to keep yourself on the pedestal they put you on.

Erik’s hands flex on your waist, “Now now, don’t be so eager, pet. Wouldn’t want you to get too cock hungry now would we?”

He says it like they obviously would but Charles shoots him a look and Erik laughs, going back to groping your tits through your bikini top. Charles soon slips into the water on your other side, and soon enough you’re sandwiched in between the both of them. Charles runs his hands down your back and settles them on your ass, sharply smacking the globes before telling Erik to sit on the edge of the pool.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs than I already have, you know that?” Charles sighs, “It’s only fitting I take some of that stress out on this gorgeous body, hm, darling?”

“Uh huh, I’m so so sorry, sir.” You babble, pitching yourself forward to mouth at Erik’s bare length as Charles slides his hands around your hips and grinds against your ass.

Erik spreads his legs, “Greedy girl, come get it then.”

You suckle at the thick tip, flicking your tongue out to catch the drops of pre that leak out and take him down your throat as Charles pulls the strings of your bikini bottom loose. You squeal in pleasant surprise when he parts your ass cheeks to get a good look of your pussy underwater, running his thumbs over your folds and teasingly dipping into your hole.

You whine around Erik’s cock, already to the hilt, his balls resting on your chin. He chuckles and pats your cheek, goading Charles into giving the poor thing what she wants already, you might die of need on them.

“We’ve fantasized about this while we fucked on our own time, Charles, there’s no use in pretending any longer.”

You eagerly hum on Erik’s length, bobbing your head up and down, only faltering at the hint of Charles’s cockhead against your entrance. He teasingly swipes it through, slipping a few of his fingers in to stretch you enough while causing you too much pain. You have to face some kind of punishment after all, he and Erik will kiss it better later.

“Now, pet, keep your mouth where it is and relax your legs, let me in.” Charles pants, slowly sinking into your tight warmth as you suck Erik off.

Once you’ve adjusted enough, despite still reeling from the stretch and burn, his slow but deep thrusts push your head further into Erik’s lap. You look up at the latter with teary eyes, he laughs and brushes them away from your lower lash line, guiding you to bob your head more.

Charles hisses, fingernails scratching at your love handles as he picks up the pace. He loves the way you gag on Erik when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the way you can’t run away from either them or what they do to you or what you do to them. He knows that this moment was inevitable, always in motion and in the making since the day you met. You project your dirty little fantasies so loudly, Charles would have to lock the door to his classroom after every period so he could get himself off.

You gurgle around Erik, your nose buried in his trimmed pubes and inhaling his musk as you deepthroat him. Charles tightens his grip, moving to grope and play your ass from behind, his thrusts speed up even faster. Eventually the water is rippling around the three of you, the manor’s pool making mini waves as Charles’s girthier cock splits your pussy open.

You feel so full, your mind is so painted white that you can’t think about anything else but the long dick filling your mouth and the thick dick buried in your velvet grip.

“So good for us, if you were feeling restless you could’ve just sneaked into either one of our rooms. We wouldn’t have minded.” Someone says, maybe Charles, even though he would be the one who would protest too much before giving up the charade.

You give up on actively sucking Erik off and just let the force of Charles’s thrusts shoot you up and down to take his length into your mouth over and over and over. Blinking up at them in a daze as if you have no other thoughts in your puppy brain, just a bimbo slut for them to share and use between them. You drift in that sub space for ages, letting them direct your movements on their cocks like the most loved and well kept doll in the world.

“Fuck, darling!” Charles grunts, pounding your gummy walls and focusing on your choked up whines and moans.

Erik groans, his large hips jutting pistoning his aching dick into you, caught up in the embrace of your tongue and throat. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely wide around his meat. He wishes he took the time to slap his shaft against your face, demeaning you with the tip on the center of your lolled out tongue.

“Hottest little mouth I’ve ever fucked, be proud of that, dear.” Erik grits out, wrestling his pleasure from the depths of your gaping jaw.

Charles reverently kneads the fat of your globes and Erik lovingly caresses the apple shaped swell of your cheeks with his rough fingertips. Both of the cocks in you twitch as they spill inside, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re too busy drinking every drop of Erik’s salty seed to react to Charles finessing your clit until you're dirtying the pool water with your own orgasm. Your fluids float off to mix with the bits of Charles that leak out of you, and you’re almost genuinely sad at the thought.

They intertwine their fingers when they push in a cold metal buttplug back in Charles' room, which you come to find out is one they share. That sentiment is true about the room as well.

You and Alex avoid looking each other in the eye when he catches you coming out of their room on the way to class, and you see Hank passed out on the bed behind his opened door.

[foggywiz4rd]

Maybe this sounds random, but on Tik Tok I saw a lot of people using AI to make their Arcane lookalike character, and I just wanted to say that if you do so you didn't understand anything this show offers.

The quality of Arcane comes obviously from a really good writing but also from the amazing  character designs, worldbuilding choices, scene composition and obviously animation; those are works that take a lot of fucking time to the amazing artists, animators and directors, and using a technology that actively threatens this working positions is not only disrespectful but also stupid. Actively feeding AI with the unique artstyle of arcane is first of all helping this abomination evolve into becoming even more precise in stealing and copying specifics artworks, and also it's teaching it how to replicate Arcane lookalike art pieces that could be used to mass produce merch or prints putting a profit in the pockets of the wrong people; not only that but since we live in a time where profits are basically the only interest to big companies, who can guarantee us that once the AI products are good enough they will not be used for the actual series and products. I know that right now it doesn't seem like a possibility for this franchise because it has given us a genuine and fantastic work of art, but seeing what is happening in the world of animation (thinking for exaple Disney pushing only corporations slabs such as live action remakes or souless films, Pixar employees given less and less creative liberty, DreamWorks Co founder Katzemberg basically declaring that animators can be replaced by AI, and all the strikes the animators in the USA are doing because of the inadequate salaries and threatens to their positions) it's not an impossible scenario, maybe the fact that the arcane/league animation projects are done by a studio based in France, [were because of EU regulations AI is more limited (kinda, but also not really lol)], can keep it safe for now, but I wouldn't be so sure about it in the future.

This is to say that there are real people in the animation industry wich are suffering the direct consequences of the capitalistic mentality of their executives, and the real threat of AI replacing their labor, you chosing to use this technology is only giving this capitalist machine free fuel.

Also it's insulting to the amazing visual work done in the show, the art of animation is finally taking a different path in big industries than the iperrealism of Disneys 3D backgrounds; let's think about Spiderverse by sony, or the lates Ninja Turtles by nickelodeon, or even better Nimona, finally there has been a path of experimentation with this form of art recognized by the general pubblic, and Arcane is yet another example of this new and diverse path. The characters flow in the scenes, everyone of them has a unique style of combat reflecting their personality, the use of color as symbols but also as enanchment of the scenes, the raw strokes and blurred edges, the use of light to convey the scenes depth, the character designs, the writing, it's a work of art, a humanmade work of art, not one done by some click on a computer and a prompt. This is a tipe of work that an AI should struggle to replicate, it easy for an artificial intelligence to remake a Disney 3D style, because it's clean, boring and all the same therefore it's easy for a company like that to start rely on this technology to feed us with all the more shit ass stories and all the same animations, let's not make it easy for an AI to replicate something like Arcane, let's not feed this machine great material to steal and reuse to take away work from the people who give us this masterpieces in the first place.

Without obviously starting the discourse about how harmful it is for the environment, but this post is already a chapter, so maybe another time.

Section with spoilers:

Last thing is I saw a girl talking about the artstyle choices in the scene where Viktor and Jayce destroy the excore, where the excore products are all kinda fucked up and uncanny like something an AI could make, and then where the two of them fucking explode (rip to them I'll miss those gay boys) everything becomes more flat like a traditional human made drawing. So maybe the glorious evolution of mankind through AI it's a lot like how it's portraid in the show: souless, all the same, lacking personal freedom of choice and creativity, therefore if we put on our thinking caps maybe it's not the best path to go down. I dunno I just wanted to throw it out there because it fits a lot.

Just my thoughts. If there are grammatical errors I'm sorry, but clearly I don't want to use an AI to correct them lol.

[elbiotipo]

What are like good AIs for making up inspirations for writing and such? I was trying to make ChatGPT fulfill this function, and like it's good at coming up with names or riddles but actual stories or setting ideas are bad. Not even bad as in nonsensical or lack human touch, bad as in they look like the most generic thing possible

Well, before AIs there was this website, with all sorts of generators for names, NPCs, even random maps and solar systems and more for different settings. It even has a free Markov Name Generator where you can just put a list of names or words and it generates random names from them! I still use it for generating names when I feel lazy (I'm not a good conlanger)

But my favorite right now is one you can find here, @statsbot by @reachartwork. You can add the bot on Discord and ask them for a lot of commands, like creating you a statblock for NPCs or characters (I asked them for example for stats for the Daft Punk guys in a Cyberpunk campaign), a skeleton of an adventure or dungeon with random encounters, random monsters for all kinds of systems, descriptions of settings and places, or my VERY favorite, /elaborate, where you send them a little worldbuilding prompt (for example, "a kobold merchant republic", "a pantheon of fire deities") and it gives you a whole worldbuilding blurb that you can use as you want.

This is one of my favorite outputs:

The outputs are very interesting and creative, I don't even play RPGs that much, I just feed it prompts and see what it comes up with. I think the author is working on a solo version which can remember previous prompts which could be very useful if you are building a setting and want to develop some stuff but don't know how. Do give them a tip if you use it!

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Chopping and Piling Wood

Fandom: Harry Potter (fuck JKR)

Pairing: James Potter/GN!reader

Plot: you’re invited to the Potter family cabin with some of your other friends, including James Potter and you spend one of the days watching him chop and pile wood

Notes: as I stated above Fuck JKR and her beliefs.

This is based on @flufftober 2024 Day 8 prompt: chopping and piling wood

Flufftober 2024 masterlist - General Masterlist

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You were spending the week with James at his family’s cabin. There were a few of you staying in the area, but the reason you said yes was so you could spend time with your best friend and long-time crush, James.

You hadn’t told him about your crush, not since you saw him flirting with Lily on multiple occasions. You didn’t know how close they were, but you didn’t want your friendship with him to suffer.

Everyone decided to go out for a while. Even though you were invited, you didn’t go. You didn’t want to, you just wanted to stay in.

What you didn’t know was James had also decided to stay behind.

It was a beautiful day out, so you sat outside to read, when James came out, “don’t mind me, love.” He was gone almost in an instant.

You got into your book and forgot anyone else was there, when you heard, “it’s a beautiful day out?”

You jumped slightly and lowered your book, looking at where the voice came from to see James working up a sweat chopping wood.

“Umm, yeah, it is,” you responded, no longer able to keep your eyes off him. You knew he was toned from the sports he played, but you didn’t know about the muscles he had hidden.

He smiled before going back to chopping the wood, seeming happy that he had your attention. When he finally stopped, you walked over to him as he started to stack the wood. You didn’t even realise you had until you were standing near him.

“James?”

“Yeah, lovely,” he stopped and gave you all his attention.

“Would you like to go out with me?” You had asked really fast and you weren’t sure if it was understandable.

However, James seemed to understand, just as he always did with you. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “I’d love to.”

You wrapped your arms around him, before pulling back slightly and he leaned down to kiss you. You sighed happily before leaning against him, “I feel like I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too, lovey, me too.”