#is it just me? am i wrong? does it not and that just paints me as dismissive?

[drchucktingle]

three point tether

the reason art with ai at the creative helm will never get traction in any long term or meaningful trot is because art is more than what is in the text of the book, or notes of the song, or runtime of the movie. art is whats OUTSIDE of the medium, a performance piece between creator and experiencer

i say this all the time and i think most buckaroos think im off in the clouds as eccentric ART WEIRDO (theyre NOT WRONG) but in a practical BUSINESS sense what i am saying is true. folks want to pretend art is in some lab where art and artist and viewer are separate things. but they never will be

art exists outside of a vacuum. it is not static. it grows and lives and evolves based on culture its in and who is experiencing it. whether you know it or not, what you LIKE or DISLIKE has just as much to do with the story AROUND the art than the art itself.

you carry what you know about me to my tinglers, you carry what you know about the beatles to the beatles, you even carry what you DONT KNOW to artists and THAT changes your experience. the STORY outside of the art is unavoidable because the lack of a story is still a story

so what does this have to do with ai art? my point is, the STORY of ai generated art is potentially interesting when it FIRST happens, or when its a one of one, but when it is co-opted by corporations to make slop, or when you consider the ethics of data scraping and theft, the story becomes sour

in other words, REGARDLESS OF WHAT AI GENERATED ART ‘MAKES’, the STORY outside of the story is derivative and unethical. what is even more important, and the greatest problem of all, is that its very very BORING. ‘oh wonderful someone made a painting from a prompt CANT WAIT to dive into this world’

so fundamentally these projects from tech goofs only serve to show that they have absolutely no understanding of art in the first place. the starry night is not just a painting, it is a three point tether between van gogh, the painting and us, which is constantly breathing and moving and living

if i was to give advice to any artist about how to stand out in their field i would say this: figure out what YOUR STORY is, not just within your chosen medium, but OUTSIDE of any medium. THAT STORY is your art, and it is infinitely cosmically unique. USE IT. EMBRACE IT. that is your power buckaroo

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[unnamed-atlas]

[isekyaaa]

I'm going to say again like I know it is really dumb to feel this way, but I finally put into words why I get so annoyed when people ask me for a part 2 to one of my works. Like I explained once to people that writing is a very slow and arduous task for me, but it's more than that?

Picture you are an artist working on a painting. You spend months on it to get everything just right. You pour time and energy into getting the perfect composition, the perfect lighting, the perfect shades etc. And then finally, you finish it. After a year, you finally finished your masterpiece. And your work is a hit. People really like it. But then.... Someone comes up to you and says, "Gosh, I really love this painting! But you know what? I love it so much that I think the painting is much too small. You know what? You should add on two extra feet of canvas onto the right side of your painting. That way, you can add on more to your painting and it'll be even bigger and more enjoyable!"

To me, that's what it feels like when someone asks for a part two. Like this last fic honest to God I started on more than a year ago. Granted, I'd pick it up and put it back down, but I put a lot of work into making sure everything was as perfect as possible. It's not an amazing fic, mind you, but it still gave me a lot of trouble. But eventually I finished it into a COMPLETE work. It's a finished painting. That's the story I wanted to tell in its entirety.

I get why people want a part two. I get that the story ends to leave you wanting to know what happens next. But that's the point. That's the story I wanted to tell. It's complete. This isn't supposed to be pure romance. It's supposed to be more on the comedic side. But when people ask for a part two, it's like they're telling me that they're not satisfied with my artwork, that it's not perfect and needs more work for it to become perfect. It's like they're ignoring all the year's worth of effort I put into making sure the composition, wording, humor, etc was just right. Not only that. I should put another year's worth of work into making it truly perfect. It's insulting and exhausting.

Granted, like I said, I do understand people completely do not intend to make me feel this way. I'm not irritated with these people directly. I know it's supposed to be a compliment. But like.... Maybe it's because I'm prideful but I really can't help but be insulted. It's telling me that I didn't do a good job as a writer.

[emma-d-klutz]

You know I really do not need Jeremiah Arkham to be Black Mask at any time ever. Someone’s gotta fill the niche of mental health professional who is 100% not a supervillain. A guy whose evildoing comes only as an example of what a psych ward can do to you if they just choose. 

The tension of knowing he started out extremely dedicated and genuinely wanting to help people, seeing him victimized and bullied by rogues in his care until even the last shreds of professionalism that held place of his already run down empathy wear out, and despite being sympathetic to this hopeless state being nonetheless nauseatingly horrified when he turns to abusing his patients because in his position he can just do that and hypothetically could have chosen to do that over anything,

is way better to have in there to work with Batman’s exploratory themes of power, justice, corruption and institution, mental illness, and ‘Society’ ect ect

than just saying “and then he snapped too much so now he’s in a legacy costume and a straight jacket too.” 

No hate to my other villains who have lost their licenses. Some of those guys are some of my favorite rogues, and I love them dearly, but we need one uncostumed one. 

(Yes, I am arguing that something from a giant superhero franchise should not have another costumed villain because themes, as if costumed villains is not the whole genre. I am also the sort of person who gave up on No Game, No Life after reading more volumes than I’d care to admit, because I got sick of wading through the gross parts waiting for them to tackle the subjects of debilitating phobias, isolation, codependency, and family that I thought were promised to me before realizing that was never gonna happen. So. Take me however you will. Please pretend reblogs are disabled bc tumblr isnt giving me the option rn)

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[sunshinefurby]

hm. i've been quiet abt it bc i don't really like being negative on here but honestly the new furby design is. disappointing idk. absolutely nothing against people who like it ofc, and there are def some cute aspects. but it sucks to see that the design is so far removed from original furbies and just doesn't have the same charm idk. the connect was already straying pretty far but honestly i kinda like connects bc the shapes are cute but. idk the 2023 furbs just seem like they're trying to hard to be cutesy and it just feels sort of forced?? if it appeals to kids and young people get to enjoy it that's awesome and honestly that's kind of the point. but i do get why people are unhappy with it. like in regards certain aspects like the eyes the fixed beak & the way it's like. super difficult to take apart bc of the clips and stuff. i can totally see why a lot of customizers especially aren't happy with it. i'm sure lots of people have said the exact same stuff but yeah overall i feel like. relatively neutral to the whole thing idk it's nice to see furbies being produced and sold again and yeah it is cute but i get why people aren't loving it. that said ofc there are people who do love it and that's totally okay. regardless if you love it or hate it what's not okay is people within the community being rude to each other based on whether they like it or not cmon. it's not for everyone but if people do like it that's their business and there's no need to be rude!!! but on the other hand if people have complaints about it they should be allowed to voice that as long as they're not being mean yknow. letting it cause a rift in the community is silly. but anyways

[tellie-vision-art]

…

[navysealt4t]

a little downside to my 'mark when and what to study in a calender' plan. my brain has now decided to finish the like 9 morning bells im missing that arent required to be turned in until the 12th even though i have a project due last friday that HAS to be done tomorrow morning. my brain will not let me work on the more important assignment bc if i do im never gonna end up finishing all these bell because TODAY IS THE DAY TO DO THEM!!!! >:(((((

[britcision]

Once again and as always:

Okay, recommend something

Not “read a comic” or “find something from a “good run” of this character”

Be specific, because DC canon is a fucking hellscape behemoth and almost all of it is directly contradictory

Which run of which character do you want people to read? Because ALL of the DC branded content is canon

Yes, even the Superman who blames Kon for being created in the Young Justice cartoon

Yes, even the Batman slapping his Robins around

Yes, the New 52, no matter how much you hate it

Yes, everything pre-New 52, no matter how much you hate that

I HAVE dipped my toes in DC content; I read every run of Suicide Squad and Harley Quinn comics up to 2018. I’ve watched movies, tv shows, and animated series.

You know what I learned?

There is no such thing as consistent characterisation.

Ever. For anyone.

Every “fanon” thing I have ever seen a DC fan complain about people “getting wrong” can be directly supported by DC canon.

It’s not “oddly controversial” to remind y’all that your DC head canons are not the actual canon, or that the runs you “don’t count” still are

I have deadass given up talking about canon lore with DC fans because I will cite a comic, show, or movie and be told “oh I don’t count that” as if that has anything to do with it being canon

DC EXPLICITLY embraces this; “every DC world is real including yours” kinda messaging was big in the 00s

And yet you still get supercilious jerks who’ll wander in on people having a good time playing with the dolls and complain “oh I don’t like how you’re writing this hero you should write them the way I want” instead of just writing what they want themselves, and wonder why it’s “oddly controversial”

You don’t have to like my interpretations of Batman, Superman, or any of the DC characters. They’re still just as valid as yours, so… yeah. I’m gonna discourage people from worrying and obsessing over finding a DC character’s “canon” personality

Because the second they have a second run, by a second head artist, there are now two options. And so on, ad infinitum, for every single new run, and new show, and new movie

When you want to write a DC character, do what DC’s paid professional writers who determine what is canon do: pick a version you like and stick with it, and fuck anything else

If you love DC and love a DC character and want to suggest a particular comic run, or show, or movie characterisation to people, that is fine! Hell yes, do it!

But. Be. Specific. Because if you say “oh go read a Young Justice comic” and I ask you which of the seven separate runs by the single name alone, you’d better be able to answer, because I’m sure as hell not reading all of them just to find the one you like.

And every single one you don’t like is still canon, and other people will all prefer different ones. They. Are. Not. Wrong. Just. Because. You. Disagree. Nor are you. Nor. Are. They.

DC characters past their second retcon/spinoff/retelling do not have a canon characterisation in the way characters from a single show do. It is not the reality we live in. And trying to pretend that you personally hold the key to the One True Canon is patronising, annoying, and almost always comes in the form of shitting on other people having fun for not doing it your way

Just be positive about the run you like, gush about it, suggest The Actual Specific Content You Want People To Look At So They Will Agree With The Characterisation You want. Self-test by googling the thing you want people to “just look up” and see how many other options are drowning your thing.

I’ll read another comic run if it looks actually interesting to me. I’m not going to bother trying to guess which version of the Justice League’s major players over 70 years of wildly contradictory content you’re thinking of when you complain I’m “writing a character wrong”

This is not a particularly controversial opinion

It’s weird that “hey, maybe read or watch some DC content” seems oddly controversial in DPxDC fandom

Presumably you enjoy the characters since you keep using them, you’ll probably like one of the comics tv shows or movies(especially the animated movies)

we don’t HAVE to treat the entirety of DC canon like it’s Phantom Planet

[kosije]

sins in silk

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel ohara x princess!reader, they are from different kingdoms, mentioned age-gap, forbidden love aspect, pregnancy kink, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual head, fingering, size kink, art cred: kammie_arts1903

"Princess, the Grand Duke is here. May I bring him in?"

"Show him to the study for now. Tell him I will be right out. Be sure to thank the Grand Duke for his patience."

"Yes, Princess."

"Oh, Will?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"After you inform the Duke, please excuse everyone to their chambers, yes?"

"But princess, you know if the king found out we had left your side, even with the Grand Duke we could lose our-"

"I will not let that happen. So please, Will, do this for me."

All though apprehensive, your servant bows and disappears from your room, in long strides to the Duke.

It's the 5th time this month he has come to the estate. Always with the intention to see the King and ruminate. And despite him being so much older than you, your father's closest friend and strongest connection to the 2099 kingdom, and is only to wed a woman from his territory, each time he has come has left you tangling a hand in your silk sheets, hushed cries of the Duke's name left to fall from your wet lips in a silent plea.

Every time he drops by unannounced, talks to your father, and leaves. Every time he has his salt and pepper sprinkled brown hair combed back away from his face, showing the wrinkles on his forehead. Every time his eyes have focused on you, running over you like the pretty oil portrait that hangs above the study's mantle as his jaw flexes brows furrow, something in you ignites and the yearning becomes almost palpable.

Never does he say more to you than a few words, only acknowledging you after with how his body tenses when you're around. He runs as cold as the marble under your feet as you move to your vanity to reapply your perfume and shift your dress to expose enough of your collarbone without looking intentional. You're buzzing at the thought of seeing him, taking the rollers out of your hair with bubbling anticipation. This is the first time he's come amidst nightfall and the first time you two will be alone. With your hands resting to your front, you walk to the study well aware of how low your neckline is dipping while high pillared walls with paintings of cherubs and past battles trail you illuminated by ivory candles.

When you push past tall burgundy doors, you're greeted by the sight of Grand Duke of 2099, Miguel O'hara, who's stretching his back with two large hands on his hips. The deep groan he lets out makes your skin flush, and when his cold gaze meets yours you almost shiver. His eyes drift from your face to just right where your dress exposes a bit of the fat on your breast, and you smile when you hear him suck in a breath.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Your Grace?" His eyes tear from your chest as he focuses on the crackling fireplace.

"Just here to see your father, is he near?" He asks, brown eyes fixing back onto yours. Your smile only widens.

"I'm afraid the King is away, but he should be returning soon, you are more than welcome to stay 'till his return."

"I shouldn't-"

"Humor me, Your Grace. After all, I am a bit lonely without my father to talk to." you say, batting your eyelashes at him bashfully.

Apprehension is so clear on his face, but still he nods, straightening his white button up and waiting for you to go on.

"Follow me," you say, walking back down the hall until you reach your room.

"Princessa, I will not go further, this is inappropriate. A young lady shouldn-"

"'M not as young as I was before. Surely you can agree, no?"

"Even so," He coughs. "That is not the point-"

"You should have no trouble entering. I have already given my permission."

He doesn't look convinced.

"Do you not trust me? Have I done wrong by you?"

"That is not it, Princessa-"

"Then please, my duke, time is slipping right past us." you whisper, slipping through the doors, intentionally brushing your hand across his thigh. You grin when you hear his shaky breath, and hear your door not only close, but lock.

"What is it that you have here that we couldn't be anywhere else for?"

"Are you putting on an act," you ask him, turning around to face him still at a distance. "Or are you truly this aloof, Your Grace?'

"I’m sorry?-"

"I have a confession," you say. walking closer and closer until his breath is caught in his throat, and your lips are just a nudge away from his.

"My father won't be returning anytime soon." And suddenly, it seems it has clicked in his head, as his eyes darken.

"This can not happen."

"You're right," your hand is pressed up against his chest.

"Someone could hear us," He whispers, making no effort to push you away.

"I've already dismissed everyone to their chambers."

"If your father ever found out there could be a war," he tries to argue, but his head is still dipping down, ghosting over your lips.

"We have all night to just the two of us."

And just a second after saying that, he kisses you. His lips are hot, hungry, and experienced in the way they move against yours, swallowing your every breath. His hands find your waist, but he hesitates and you can tell he hasn't given in completely. And something about that excites you.

You pull away from his lips, leaving him noticeably confused until your hand reaches down and palms his cock, happy at the way he's already hard.

"Do you know just how long I've been wanting this?" You ask shifting him around you.

He doesn't say anything, only shakes his head "No."

"Ever since the day you came back to visit, I haven't been able to think of anything else." When you push him down on the edge of your bed, he shivers when you drop to your knees and play with the button on his slacks.

"Every night, I touch myself on these sheets to the thought of you." You confess, finally free him from his pants, leaving him in the thin fabric of his underwear, painfully soaking up the front of them with his pre.

"Princessa," He finally says in almost a whine. "If you say things like that I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back."

And dipping your hand under his waistband to grip his cock, you savor how thick and heavy he feels and the groan he lets out with a kiss to his base. You can't deny the bit of worry that flushes through you when you see just how big he is. Thick beads of cum pulse out of him that you lick up hungrily, humming at how you can feel hus veins on your tongue.

"Then please, Your Grace. Give me everything."

That seems to shatter his self control, because suddenly he has a hand in your hair and a hand on his cock as he forces your lips over his angry brown head.

"You're such a damn tease, you know that?" He gritts out, bullying his cock all the way to the back of your throat and then some. You gag and choke around him, already feeling your throat burn and eyes well up.

"Always coming around me with your father with your body on display in those cute little gowns, batting those pretty little eyes at me when you talk. What would your father think if he knew all of that was because you were trying to get my attention?" He coos between groans while using your face like just a vessel to get off, and your cunt starts dripping. "Just so I could fuck your pretty mouth like this?"

You can't do anything but moan around him, croaking out gasp when he finally lets you catch your breath before immediately pulling you back down onto his dick rapidly as snot mixes in with tears, spit, and cum starts to drip down your jaw and onto your floor. He begins to unbutton his shirt, before tearing it off completely, leaving buttons to fly across your room. Looking up through teary eyes you take in the way his usually combed back hair sticks to his sweaty forehead messily, as his abs tense and relax with every rapid breath as his mouth lulls open with lidded eyes, moaning when he sees just how well you swallow him.

Swiftly, you run your tongue over the slit of his cock, hearing him whine, and feeling the grip on your hair tighten enough to burn your scalp. Your throat aches with every heavy thrust that only spurs on the throbbing between your thighs as your hands play with his balls and he stutters in your mouth, shooting his seed down your throat, midst mumbling praises.

Without word or warning, he flips you over, effectively pinning you down to your bed once he's come down from his high. His large calloused hand runs up and down your thigh before tossing your nightgown up, and he groans at the sigh.

"You needed me so bad you didn't wear anything under this frilly thing? What a filthy girl." He grins, slapping your dripping cunt and drinking up your moan in a kiss.

"Your Grace,"

"That's not what you should be calling me." He grits, crouching down to his knees to lick a stripe up your throbbing pussy.

"M-miguel,"

"Yes, Princessa?"

"Please."

"Please what, Princessa?" He says, licking another stripe, but slower.

"Please...don't tease me." You whimper, muffling your moans with the back of your hand.

"And what shall I do instead?"

"Kiss me harder, please. I need it, Mig-" and your sentence is cut off by the feeling of his nose kissing your clit as he buries his face into your sopping heat, groaning at the way you suck his tongue in. You're writhing at the feeling, but when you feel one of his calloused fingers push through you, you lose your vision for a second.

"Fuck- you're even tighter than I thought you were," he groans, and you feel your body ignite at his admission.

"You'd think of me?" You ask with such a worn out voice, Miguel's hips buck up in search of any friction at all.

"All the damn time. Would fuck my hand everyday over those pretty eyes and lips, imagine how pretty you'd look all happy and spent, with the image of my love spilling out of you." He confesses, speeding his assault on your hole, hitting spots with his fingers you could only dream of, before latching his mouth back on and fucking you with his tongue and fingers. The arousal in you was rushing through you like a wave and just after a strangled moan it blows out of you in pleasurable burst that leave you flushed. He hungrily drinks you up like a starved man until you're whining from the sensation.

When he rises from the floor he doesn't bother wiping your slick from his mouth, only laughs at your fucked out expression, and runs his lips over yours, amused by how you trail after him. Annoyed, you wrap your hands around his collar and pull his lips onto yours, gasping and licking into his mouth. Between the taste of you on his tongue, his rock-hard cock rubbing against your puffy folds as your hands run through his sweaty hair.

"Gonna give me one more?" He asks, voice low like gravel.

"I'll do anything for you, Miguel. Anything you want."

He kisses you again, a passionate thing as you both whine at the feeling of him bullying into you.

"'Ts too big, Mig- oh! S-slow down!" You cry, but his hand slaps the fat of your thigh and grips it, hitting you even deeper at a fast pace. The pain is still there, but feeling of pleasure is much more intense. And it only skyrockets when you hear his voice.

"Sshhh sweetheart. You're-fuck-already taking me so well. so damn tight around me. Be good and take what I give you. So I c-can tell your father what a nice cunt his perfect little girl has." He rasps, pounding you even deeper than before, and your nails dig up the fabric of your sheets, leaving fabric frayed in long scratches. One hand grips your thigh as the other moves up your dress to tweak and grope your breast, making you clench down around him. He drawls out a curse as his head falls into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your sweat and perfume that makes him impossibly more needy to where he's plowing through you in quick hard strokes that move your bed to knock against your walls, shaking the shelf above you.

His teeth sink into your neck, almost as a mark of ownership, before sucking a bruise into your skin, continuing his markings lower and lower to focus them on your breast. Your back arches at the sting and you cry out at the imposing feeling building up inside you.

"Such a pretty girl," he says, leaning over to look you in your eyes, studying the gaping of your mouth and tugging on your brows as your orgasm builds up. His eyes are trained on you, as he throbs inside you, stimulating you further.

"I'm close-" you whimper, voice cracking as he licks a stripe up your neck.

"Yeah?" He asks, smirk practically audible as he hums in your ear. "Do it. Squeeze me, sweetheart."

It only takes a few heavy strokes to hit your sweet spot before you are gushing around him, making his thrust sporadic and moans louder.

"Yes-shit- let me fill you up. I'll give you an heir, and then I'll-hah- fuck you again, and again, and again."

"Yesyesyes, please." You think you exclaim, but can't tell if you said it out loud or just in your head because of how overestimated you are. His hand rubs circles on your clit, and your toes curl as your heels dig into the muscle of his back.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-" He spits out, just before spilling his seed into your cunt, carefully riding out his orgasm inside you while pushing his cum deeper into your womb. His palm stretches over the expanse of your chest as he leans down to kiss just above your belly button. The room is quiet now that he is still inside you, and you watch Miguel lean down to kiss you once more, in the form of a soft peck to your swollen lips. Once he pulls back, he leaves you briefly before returning with a warm damp cloth that he wipes you down with. Once he is done, he discards it into a bucket and lies himself down next to you.

"If we continue to do this," he says, carefully pulling out of you. "We will eventually have to tell your father."

"You're right," you whisper scared, but when you feel his strong arm pull you flush against his chest, hope surges through you and you bury your face into his warm body.

"We'll need to get up early, the maids would appreciate finding us like this."

"We'll be fine. After all, a pregnancy will shock them far more than this."

"I'm sure it will," he laughs, kissing your forehead.

Since envelops the two of you, as you notice his breathing deepen.

"Your, Grace-"

"Miguel," he corrects, eyes dancing across your face with a small smile.

"Miguel, my father will be gone on the next full moon."

"The next full moon, huh?" He asks no one at all, pushing your hair behind your ear.

It’s bittersweet asking him to sneak around with you again. And yet, all he says is a simple "Okay," placing a kiss to the palm of your hand, and you understand what the gesture is:

A promise.

[arcadian-vampire]

If y'all need me, I'm busy lamenting my status as a Medical Anomaly. Yeah it'll be all day. Or two. Maybe six.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hello, Can I resquest, Transformers One, Yandere Sentinel Prime with a cybertronian reader conjux HCS

Oooh Sentinel Prime - lowkey, I believed I was gonna hate his guts until my very last breath. But I forgot I like fucked up characters that also have babygirl tratis (I mean - I am obsessed with Starscream, I understimated myself).（〃｀ 3′〃）

Yandere!Sentinel Prime (TFO) w/ Conjux Cybertronian!Reader (HCs)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, possessive and obsessive elements, manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, forced relationship.

Sentinel Prime is definitely a manipulative, possessive yandere that is not afraid to punish his Conjux with psychological or emotional punishment types.

You were older than both Orion Pax and D-16, a miner too - a hard working one who was always kind and tried to remain positive to everything, even when the guards were kind of jerks and your teammates got hurt while working.

Sentinel met you one day he went down to the mines to just say empty words and promises that fooled enough his blind admirers to keep up working hard. The moment his optics met yours among the other miners... he felt like his spark vibrated.

Uh, how strange - he was sure he was definitely disgusted by any bot, no matter if they were femme, mechs or none, that were a miner.

But here he is, thinking about you and talking Airachnid's audials off about you.

Maybe now he understood what Megatronus said about feeling his spark sing whenever Solus Prime was by his side.

Sentinel Prime started to look after you, visiting you down in the mines and trying to woo you. And while you were quite flattered... something in your spark knew something was wrong. You didn't knew exactly what it was wrong - but everything pointed at Sentinel, one way or another.

You tried to be polite and paint an imaginary limit line between you and the false Prime - but Sentinel knew what you were doing. And he wasn't gonna have it.

"Hehe... oh, sweetspark - it's so funny how you think you can just reject my advances! You should be grateful I have my optics on you, dear! But... Oh, well, I wished we had an organic 'fall-in-love' story to later tell our sparklings! But you left me with no options."

You were... confused. And scared. But before you could even step back, you felt a painful kick in the back of your helm, soon everything going dark.

When your optics onlined, you were met with a... new faceplate.

"Oh, thanks Primus! My love, are you okay?" The unknown mech asks as he gently craddles your faceplate with his servos.

"Where... where am I? What...?" You start to ask, blinking a few times before tilting your helm, staring with curiosity at the mech. "Who are you?"

The mech seems to smile a little bit more to then change his expression one to sadness. "Oh, my sweetspark - you don't remember me?"

The mech - Sentinel Prime - gently held your servo as both of you walked among the big, luxurious hallways of his home, explaining to you how you both were soon to be Conjuxes, him being a Prime and you were part of the guards. While on a mission against the Quintessons, you got hurt and your T-cog got taken, you nearly died! But your beloved soon to be Conjux saved you!

You just... accept it. I mean, you didn't remember anything (but something felt like missing inside of your system). But you didn't mind, you felt safe and loved in Sentinel's hold.

If Sentine Prime was not around because of needing to attend important Prime business, Airachnid is always with you - and she became a sort of... guardian. One who always followed you and kept Sentinel updated about you.

Sentinel blatantly manipulates you whenever you show any type of doubt or consideration on what he says or does. "My sweetspark, please... I nearly lost you one time. And I felt like my spark was going to die. I cannot lose you again, please. I love you so much."

It always works - after all, you don't know exactly who you were once are. Sentinel Prime is everything you have.

"Without me - you are nothing."

A few days after having woken up from your forced induced stasis mode, both of you became the Conjux Endura of each other, everyone on Iacon saw the event and celebrated. Sentinel Prime held you closely, snuzzling his helm softly against the top of yours, keeping one arm wrapped your behind and his free servo holding yours.

And you smile, preciously painted and adorned. But... something still, deep inside of your spark, knows something is wrong. But whenever you see at Sentinel's smile, you can't help but smile back and ignore that uncertain sensation.

After all - You've always been meant to be Sentinel Prime's conjux.

Everything is okay.

(ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Vhaos out!

[girlboypersonthingy]

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

[pandemic-info]

"Any chance we're wrong about Covid?"

It's a valid question many people earnestly think about — even the very cautious.

'it becomes important to ask: "what does the data actually say?"'

Quoting a few good answers from a thread:

"Covid left me disabled in 2020. I know with 100% certainty that I am not wrong about Covid. I live with the proof every minute of every day for the rest of my life."

"The insurance companies and government statisticians care, or rather they have taken an objective interest." > https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/LNU01074597 > https://insurancenewsnet.com/innarticle/insurance-industry-coalition-forms-non-profit-to-study-excess-mortality

"There are parallels between how governments are responding to COVID-19 and how they responded to tobacco back in the day. “it would be a mistake to assume governments would automatically protect people from a public health threat in the face of more immediate economic considerations…there would be resistance to change that might be costly until evidence to justify it was overwhelming.”" > https://johnsnowproject.org/insights/merchants-of-doubt/

"I suspect most of us entertain this thought from time to time, especially when it’s this absurdly difficult and lonely to maintain a Covid Conscious lifestyle. But it’s important to remember that history is littered with people making terrible choices en masse: with handling past pandemics, the holocaust, slavery, witch burnings, etc. Hell pretty much everyone used to smoke and putting lead in everything was A-ok. Just because a lot of people believe something doesn’t mean they’re right. So it becomes important to ask what does the data actually say? The research and the statistical data on this subject paint an ugly but fairly quantifiable picture by which we can gauge our understanding of the situation and our choices in response to it. Read the science. Look at the data on things like Long Covid. There are also many of us who have already had our health absolutely ravaged by this virus or lost loved ones to it etc., and everyone in that position has first hand evidence for how dangerous this virus is. It’s tremendously difficult to swim against the current like we are and self-doubt is natural in those conditions, but that’s when seeking out factual information on the subject is the best course of action."

"But what it all comes back to for me is - say we're wrong, and covid is a big nothingburger and lockdowns are the root of all evil. Ok, well, what I'm doing is acting on the best information available to me at this time to protect my family. I can't regret that. I will always be able to look my kids in the eye and say "I did my best with what I had."" ... So if we're wrong - well, we wore masks, changed our social habits, reduced our consumerism and our contribution to the destruction of our planet, and reduced how often we got sick. None of those things are bad. If they're wrong, they and their kids are screwed. I'd rather err on the side of caution.

[jwnzlvr]

you… want to try what?

pairing : bf!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

summary : toji wants to piss in you, you can’t say no to him. that’s it.

wc : 1k

warnings : SMUT (mdni), piss, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), PISSING INSIDE, degradation (use of bitch, slut, just treating reader as less), pussy slapping, not proofread

notes : where would you people be without me? JOKINGIM JOKING anyways for the toji piss kink enthusiasts… this one’s for u fam 🙏🏻 also this is messy i am aware. in tired. im running on like four cups of coffee, four hours of sleep and a blueberry muffin. please enjoy.

of all the things your boyfriend wanted to try out with you, this was one of the ones you didn’t expect he’d actually want. you both sat on your shared couch, your eyes wide with toji’s latest request.

“you… want to try what?” you spoke slowly as to understand toji. he only clicked his tongue at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “why do i have to repeat myself?” he groaned out before continuing.

“i wanna try pissin’ in you. like you know when i cum in you? that but with piss.” you couldn’t help the way your jaw slowly opened at how casual he sounded about this. yeah, he definitely didn’t sound like he’d just asked for something anyone else would consider very fucking filthy. 

however, you weren’t anyone else. your interest peaked at his request. you were just as filthy as toji, you couldn’t even keep acting like you were shocked. “okay. when do you wanna try this?” you asked, dropping the whole shocked facade.

“right now.”

and that’s how you ended up on all fours, his cock pistoning in and out of you from behind. your hands gripped at the sheets while your moans were muffled by the pillows in your face.

toji had a satisfied smirk on his face as he saw how you fell apart for him. “what’s wrong, baby? this dick feel too good for you?” he’d almost snicker at you. you couldn’t even come up with a response for him. he was right, the dick did feel too good for you.

he gave a disapproving grunt at your lack of response. he moved one of his hand from your hips to your hair, tugging it to draw a small yelp out of you. “answer me, bitch. does this dick feel too good?” he borderline growled as his grip on your hair became tighter.

your head begins nodding against the pillows with loud moans interrupting your response. “yes! fuck- oh my god, toji!” his strong grip on your hair only made you more desperate for him. he gave a cocky grin at your answer. using his grip on your hair, he pulled you up to where your back was against his chest. his hips didn’t falter once during that movement.

“you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good. who owns you? who’s the only man who can fuck you this good? use that pretty little head to answer me.” his tone was derogatory. he spoke to you as if you were less than him. yet it turned you on even more.

you let out a loud whine before answering him. “you! ‘s you, toji… only you can fuck me this good.” you panted out, a moan being ripped from your throat. toji clicked his tongue approvingly. “that’s right, good girl. i knew you could answer me.” 

the way he was degrading you then switching to praising you like it was nothing was giving you extreme whiplash. you felt your high approaching, squeezing around toji. toji knew when you were about to cum. out of nowhere, his arm wrapped around your neck. he’d trapped you in a headlock.

“you gonna cum? you little slut, go ahead and cream my cock. i know you want to.” he had a sickening grin on his face. you let out choked gasps as you came around him, your whines and whimpers being distorted by the force around your neck. he groaned out loud as he came too, painting your walls white. even after he came, toji didn’t stop his thrusts. he wanted to make sure you both were overstimulated for this next part.

when he heard your little choked begs for him to stop, that it was starting to hurt, he knew it was time. he looked at your face. you were already looking lightheaded and on the verge of passing out on him. he suddenly stopped his sloppy thrusts and buried himself deep inside of you.

your eyebrows furrowed in question as to why he stopped. at least, until you finally felt it. toji looked at you with a maniacal grin. he was pissing in you. his lock on your head started to loosen just a little bit with each passing moment that he pissed inside of you. he eventually let go of your neck to fully indulge in the sensation.

toji groaned in pleasure at the feeling of letting go in your pussy. “fuck, you’re so fucking soft and warm. just made to take me. my dick, my cum, my piss. your pussy fucking loves me, doesn’t she?” his stream of piss was strong, hitting against your womb. you couldn’t help clenching on his cock as you felt fuller and fuller. 

he hissed at your grip on him, somehow pissing into you even harder. his piss began to dribble out of your hole and onto your sheets. you knew that’d be a pain in the ass to clean later that night. with each passing moment that toji pissed in you, you felt your high building up once again. you didn’t think him pissing in you would feel like heaven.

you crept your hand down to your clit and rubbed messy circles on it. you knew if you were fast enough that you’d cum just from him pissing inside of you. toji took notice of this and used one of his hands to take your hand away. his other hand came down to slap your pussy. you yelped and clenched on him, more piss flowing out of your full hole.

“did i tell you you could cum again? just finish takin’ my piss…” he’d groan out. by this point, his head was thrown back. everything just felt too good. his steady stream slowed into a dribble which ended in a few drops more. as soon as he was done, he pulled out of you. he watched in awe as his cum and piss gushed out of your clenching pussy only to drench your sheets.

he had a smirk on his face as he watched it all happen. he pressed a kiss against your neck. “thank you, baby… you did so fuckin’ good f’r me.” he praised you, his hands caressing your hips. you only turned and gave him a small glare.

“you’re cleaning all this shit up, do you understand?”

toji enthusiasts send asks or requests the brainrot is going crazy rn.