#so don't point out the mistake ok

[arttsuka]

Draw Sprig meeting Goofy (the Disney character)

And

Max (Goofy's son) meeting Hop Pop!

At first I read this as 'Hop Hop' and I was really confused because I thought it was that one rabbit from the movie 'Hop' (I don't think his name was hop hop but it was the first thing that came to my mind, sue me)

[alilbatflies]

Just Cake #4

To the people who commented: hello! And thank you, since this wouldn't have happened otherwise.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

...

The walk back was alright, considering. There were no more traps shutting around them, neither guards leaping from the shadows of trees. The supervillain could have something like that. The henchman wouldn’t be surprised.

The thing was, once the henchman’s mind had calmed down somewhat and processed the adrenaline from the dangerous situation, the conversation prior to supervillain’s arrival crashed into them like a train gone off the rails. Their thoughts kept leaping back and back to the net conversation, pondering.

They wanted to ask. They didn’t want to push.

And of course, the conversation would surface again, as if asking your boss “what’s your regret in life” before a suspected death ever did anything good. They were in the industry for a long time, for fuck’s sake. They should have known better.

They had already been so close to their villain just hanging in the net and it was so inappropriate and entirely unprofessional. They wanted to ask, but boundaries were pushed quite enough that day, far beyond their liking.

At least they were finally back on their own turf. The chances of being attacked by someone unfamiliar or snatched up by a net hidden in leaves and shadows of the forest were minimal. Their home base was peaceful.

Back in their office, the villain took off the work jacket. They exhaled and moved to the wall map. The henchman let their coat hang on the rack by the door as they joined to input what little they managed to find before they were unceremoniously interrupted by a bundle of expertly placed ropes. The only reason the henchman wasn’t dying of embarrassment at that was that it was supervillain’s net, and that meant they had little chances of missing it or escaping otherwise.

They wrapped up quickly for lack of substantial information. And the general exhaustion.

The henchman just wanted to go home. Eat something. Take a long shower. Pass out on the bed and hibernate for the next three years maybe. The villain was competent enough for world dominance on their own, if they so desired. The henchman did not think world dominance would be something the villain ever desired, as it came with a lot of talking to people they didn’t know. But they had the skill.

Were they too young for retirement?

It wasn’t like the villain couldn’t just pick any of the many other henchmen that crawled around whenever there was a plan being executed. So many skilled people. Surely one retiring minion wouldn’t be a problem.

It was all just thoughts produced by an exhausted mind; the henchman knew. Thoughts they entertained far too eagerly. There was something about it.

Nevertheless, their work was done at the moment, so they were going home. Finally. It would make more sense in the morning.

“Before you go,” the villain said as the henchman moved to take their coat and leave. “The thing I was about to say before we got interrupted.”

“Huh?”

“You’re getting promoted.”

“Huh?”

The henchman’s mind was stuck. The loading circle wasn’t even spinning.

Promoted.

Promoted?

First, that was the villain's regret?! Not promoting them surely wasn’t such a huge deal. Second, what were they even getting promoted to? There was nowhere to be promoted to! Everyone worked under the villain. The only step above would be the villain’s level. And becoming the villain’s equal was… no. Absolutely not.

Before they could shake their head and no doubt make a fool of themselves somehow, the villain tilted their head.

“Become my right hand?”

The henchman’s mind slowed down a bit. Not quite equal. Just… closer to equal than before.

“Right hand,” the henchman echoed. They supposed that was technically a position between the boss and the minions. The villain did employ quite a lot of people, lately. “Is that a real title, even?”

The villain shrugged. “Blizzard mentioned it. She said, it’s like the head butler of henchmen.”

“Right,” the henchman said. Blizzard was one of the villains they were often cooperating with, and their villain took her advice seriously. (Regardless of whether they followed through with it.) “Right.”

They could work with that. The henchman smiled. They could work with that.

The villain considered them.

“I understand it’s a lot of responsibility,” they said. “If you’d rather not to, I’ll understand. But there’s nobody I trust quite as much as you. You have this way with words, too… I can’t speak as well in stressful situations.”

The henchman had all of half a second to ponder if the villain actually found situations stressful before the villain carried on.

“If today’s incident proved anything it’s that I can’t actually work without you.”

That was delightful, the henchman supposed. “Words alone wouldn’t get me anywhere.”

“No.” the villain grinned, a crooked wild thing of a smile. “Your bluffs are always based on my strength, perhaps. But still perfect bluffs.”

The henchman filtered away the way the villain pronounced perfect for later sorting. Presumably for the evening when they stared into the ceiling before sleep again.

“It’s just a title.” It sounded dismissive the moment it came out of their mouth. The villain didn’t seem to take it personally.

“Enjoy it, then.”

The villain seemed to have thought about it a lot. They wouldn’t have offered otherwise.

Right hand, huh? It sounded alright. They still weren’t that sure that it was a working position. Sure, they knew Blizzard had one, and that the other people worked under them both… Okay, maybe it was a working position. It still felt kind of weird.

Did that mean they would be redirecting things from the villain to others? That was nothing new. Except now, they supposed, they were kind of responsible for the execution. Kind of a lot. The realization slowly sunk in. There has always been a level of personal responsibility, but now it felt magnified.

If they were to officially be responsible for other henchmen’s wins and fuck ups as well, that would bring a whole new level of stress to their life.

“Do I get a raise?”

The villain stared.

The henchman prayed they did not cross any lines again, as so often, but it was too late to take back anything. They were perfectly sure the villain had heard them now, besides.

“Hm.”

“I was mostly joking, boss,” the henchman blurted. “I didn’t–” they caught themselves. If the villain was willing to pay them more, then that shouldn’t be a problem, yeah?

“We’ll see.”

And that was that.

The henchman took the coat of the rack, said goodbye and decidedly did not stumble on their way out. That much for the retirement.

The henchman supposed it went pretty well, overall.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

girl help

[dragonfyre-creations]

I don't think I've ever poured so many of my physical attributes and so much of my heart and soul into a character design before in such a personal way before so fuck it whenever I finish the final design for Faeng and whatever I come up with I'm making her into my sona (dragonsona? Persona? Idk how this works lmfao)

(long dump in the tags and under the cut)

The last time I was even remotely connected this much to a character was when I designed Jaxsu, but honestly never truly made her my sona/main character, she was just the one I used most often in art pieces. I never really actually liked her lore and backstory enough because she was what I wanted to be instead of what I am/was. Jax isnt perfect either, but her parents love her and otherwise has friends and is loved unconditionally. She has a healthy relationship with everyone and everything. This is where the disconnect happened and where I actually started to dislike her despite her being my otherwise favorite character for awhile. Both Faeng and Jaxsu have ADHD and Autism but Jaxsu was able to put that towards a job and becoming a ship captain and winning a colosseum tournament. She's done all of these great things so even if she didn't have a healthy relationship with her parents they'd still love her because she's done something impressive and useful.

Faeng on the other hand, has to fight for everything. Her parents are important and have important jobs, and place all of these unreachable and unrealistic expectations on her and expect her to reach them with minimal effort and be perfect, but she can't no matter how hard she tries. She needs someone to explain it and break it down for her in steps so she understands what do to and how to do it so she doesn't mess it up. She's both strong and smart but it's not in practical "normal" ways or subjects. It's convoluted, It's not in the ways everyone wants her to be, she has no teachers to help her understand how to channel that strength and intelligence into something "useful" so she puts it towards the things she likes and wants to do, and thus struggles in a world that would otherwise be easy to navigate and conquer if she were "normal". Those that do understand her and try to help her are alienated by other people in an attempt to either punish both of them or force her to adapt to be somewhat passing as normal, if not then at least listen to what she's told to do. She does eventually make acquaintances but find that her twisted speech and weird explanations aren't worth trying to decipher and understand so they leave, they don't put in the effort to meet her halfway even though she's struggling and doing her best to speak in a way they'll understand.

Her parents acknowledge her differences but in a way that frames it as flawed and wrong, something that needs to be corrected, and push her to figure out her problems by herself, tearing down any support network she tries to build. She tries her damned hardest but it's not enough, it never is and never will be for them because she's not the perfect child they wanted. She showed promise in her younger years being a "gifted child" so she knows what love and acceptance lies in wait and what could be if she could just be normal and perfect. Her achievements and promise come and show in waves. She burns and fizzles out in one of the most virulent, painful ways possible after getting hurt trying to prove her worth yet again. She holds nothing but criticism, vitriol and contempt for herself because she can't claw her way back to where she was before, this time something happened and something is terribly, horribly wrong this time but she doesn't know that it is and can't figure it out, nor will anyone tell her. Whatever it is, left a mental and several physical injuries and it does nothing but deepen her self hatred and her parent's waning belief in her. She listens to false promises and praise of other people who do nothing but wish to manipulate and harm her but she stays because any form of praise is deemed good, she hungers for more and does worsening things.

She ignores the people who tell her that what she's doing is dangerous and will only end in disaster, because she doesn't believe them. If the people who are saying they're her friends are telling her that the people she hurts deserve it and that what she's doing is good, then surely she needs to believe them over strangers, right? Everything comes to a breaking point and shatters around her leaving her with quite literally nothing but her own self hatred, newfound rage and overbearing mental issues she needs to navigate once again to find out what hell it is and what's wrong with her now. She's scared of everyone and everything with the added bonus of now being hyper-aware and perceptive of people's mannerisms and behaviors, especially those who want to manipulate or harm her again. She wraps every vulnerable part of herself in metaphorical thorns and teeth to bite and maim whoever pries and digs into what she truly is, even people who want to understand her. She suffers at more than her own hand, forcing herself to deal with everything alone, until she finally meets someone that could be considered a true friend. She slowly opens up and helps them as much as they help her before everything comes crashing back down once again upon the reveal that they've been lying to her the entire time about very serious issues, and she's been used as nothing more than an attack dog once again. She burns every bridge and everyone around her in one final breakdown of rage before shutting down completely. One of the groups of friends she's shoved stay comes back and asks if she's ok. She doesn't understand why they're being kind, why they're concerned it why they care and tries to shove them away again. Every single day they still ask, talking even if there's no response from her, until she finally relents and breaks.

She's finally loved and accepted despite every fault and every flaw she has, and every time she tries to pull away out of fear of being an inconvenience they pull back twice as hard and remind her that she's able to just exist, she doesn't need to constantly be useful and that they care. She finally, finally is comfortable enough to let herself be accepted and then becomes the most clingy little shit, just as they do with her. But yeah, my own life has been very much of the same, especially the last part. Every time I go on another self-hatred spiral and drop off the face of the earth my MonHun bros give me a metaphorical slap to the face and remind me that I don't need to constantly prove my worth to everyone and prove that I'm useful, and that existing every once in awhile is more than enough. If that doesn't work then it's "you need to get your ass back over here because we're failing the Safi siege without the absolutely ridiculous amount of DPS your build Switchaxe does". I was not intending for her to be so much like me but goddamnit she's wormed her way into being my favorite now and I guess Mirage is no longer my impromptu sona

[mahgyu]

──── In the beginning of your relationship, you learned that Satoru was the type who liked to sleep cuddling. Before meeting you, Satoru used to sleep hugging a pillow, even. It wasn't exactly a necessity for him, but just something he liked and that made him fall asleep faster. You, on the other hand, weren't exactly that type.

Hugs before sleeping? Perfect. Having someone on top of you while trying to sleep? Not so perfect. Fortunately, the two of you reached an agreement about that.

But sometimes, like today, Satoru was extremely clingy. He was sleeping deeply, with his body completely on top of yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck, and a leg trapped between yours.

You loved holding him that way, having the strongest man you had ever known so vulnerable curled up in your arms and sleeping peacefully. Satoru slept heavily when he felt that comfortable, and the deeper he slept, the heavier he became on you. As mentioned, your boyfriend is a strong guy, so now it was almost uncomfortable for you.

You feel this pressure against your chest as he rests on you, completely at ease. You thought that maybe, if you tried hard enough, you could fall asleep, but no, it’s not possible.

"Baby..." You whisper, hoping it will be enough to wake him, but he just keeps snoring, each snore reverberating through your body.

"Toru...?" You try again, a little louder.

"SATORU!" Still nothing. He barely moves a bit in his sleep, letting out a particularly loud snore.

OK. Plan B. If you can't get him off, it's time to slide down. Only after two unsuccessful attempts, you somehow manage to do it, taking a big breath as you escape. You haven't even fully turned to the side when Satoru wakes up, confused and abandoned, with the source of warmth under him gone. He moves his hand aimlessly over the sheets until he feels you.

"Where are you going?" He murmurs sleepily, moving closer to you. "No..." A heavy arm wraps around you, pulling you back to him with ease. There’s a soft hum as he feels your body fit into his.

"Toru?" You call him sweetly. "You know I can't sleep like this, hmm? Come on." You pat his arm, signaling for him to let you go.

Satoru doesn't move. Instead, he just makes some whiny sounds before rubbing his face in your hair.

"Come on, let me go, please?" More pleading.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to." He whines. "Hug me." He pouts, looking so needy and neglected.

"Love, you're acting like a baby" You complain.

"Because I am. I'm your baby!" He says defiantly. "So, you should treat me like one."

At this point, you know it won't help to try to convince him when he's in this mood. You sigh, deciding to give up and give in.

About five minutes pass in complete silence and then Satoru quietly asks: "You really can't sleep?" The thought of this now bothers him. How could he relax knowing that you're not even comfortable?

"Mhm" You respond as he pulls separates from you.

"OK, I'll give up the hug time for you!" He sighs, rolling away from you dramatically. A few minutes later, he sighs again, a bit louder.

This is his cue to tell you that you should give in and cuddle with him. But you can't, having finally found a position that relaxes all the right places in your body, perfect for falling asleep.

"Are you really going to leave me abandoned?" His voice is so stupidly captivating that it makes you melt. You can't say no to that.

Satoru smiles when he hears the rustling of the sheets, your body moving toward him.

With open arms, he welcomes you back as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I can sleep like this..." You admit as he smiles, making sure you're comfortable but still wrapped up in him.

Hiii, long time no see, uh? 👀This time I brought something cute, a thought I had because I've been feeling so needy and missing our Gojo😞

(It is not well corrected, please ignore any possible mistakes.)

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

⠀

[always-just-red]

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

[giannaln4]

I'm Sorry

lando norris x fem reader

summary: A moment of frustration made Lando react the way you never thought he would, and boy, would he regret it.  (1.6k words)

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, mean lando,  fluffy ending

a/n: ok so for this, i decided to go back to Baku and put the quali result in a totally different perspective than my last fic. i guess i kinda like it but i'm not very good at describing arguments 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

ALSO i have an announcement to make and i'm really excited for it :)

check out the original request here!

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The qualifying this weekend was an absolute mess, to say the least. Lando was hard on himself no matter the result he got. Even if it was good, he would always find something to criticise himself, but P17? Everyone was in for a treat, you thought.

The worst part is that it wasn’t even his fault; it was a stupid mistake by the marshals, and he was not to blame for it. A yellow flag interrupted his lap, and he was immediately kicked out in Q1. 

Seeing the first qualifying session being over with his name in red was not something anyone wanted to see, especially not him, and now that every point was essential, you knew it crushed him.

He came back to the garage to see the rest of the qualifying with his team, and as soon as he got out of the car, you saw how frustrated he was. You understood him, of course, it sucked that this is how the weekend was going, but you would be there for him no matter what.

Once Lando took off his helmet, he headed straight to his driver’s room, and he didn’t even look at you when he walked past. That meant he wanted to be alone, but oh silly you, you decided to follow him.

He let out a loud sight when he heard the door open and close behind him, not really in the mood to hear what you had to say. He knew for a fact you were going to tell him he did well and it wasn’t his fault, which he greatly appreciated, but right now, he just wanted to suffer in peace.

“Baby?” You called him out, just testing the waters, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed in annoyance. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but-”

“You are right, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted you, not even turning around to face you. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned into it, taking a deep breath. 

That should have been your cue to leave the small room and leave him alone, but for some reason you didn’t. “Lando, don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure things will be better tomorrow. We all know what you can do and you still have the race-“

“This is MY job, Y/N. I probably know better than you do,” he snapped, raising his voice and finally turning around. “This is what I’m fighting for, we all are. Do you know what’s at stake here? I finally have the chance to compete for a championship, and I just blew it.”

To say you were astonished was an understatement; this was the first time he ever snapped at you that way and you didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Every point counts, and not even starting in the top 10 tomorrow- fuck, not even top 15, there is not much I can do.” Now, he looked more mad at you than frustrated at himself, and that crushed you. “I came here to be alone for a bit, I was hoping you would at least respect that." You stayed silent, knowing a single sound would make you cry, and you didn’t want to piss him off more than he already was. “I know you are trying to help, but you are not, you can’t.”

You just stared at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes; he had never raised his voice at you in a heated moment, and it hurt like hell. You definitely should have stayed outside. 

He walked towards the door and stepped out of the room without uttering another word, leaving you alone to deal with your own feelings. 

As soon as the door was closed, you started crying. It was your own fault, really; you could always read him like a book, even today, and you knew better than to disturb him when you weren’t supposed to, but today for some reason you just couldn't keep your mouth shut. Idiot.

You tried to calm yourself down; the last thing Lando needed was to see you cry on top of his result, but it was harder than you expected. This being the first time an argument got so out of hand made you feel absolutely terrible, especially because it was your fault. Deep down, you knew he didn’t mean it, you knew it was his feelings talking, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

A few minutes went by and you could still hear the cars out on track, the mumbling of the team, and people constantly working out there, so you tried to use that as a distraction. Anything to take your mind off what just happened. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t help, but at least you ran out of tears, and now you were just staring at a blank wall, thinking how you could begin to apologise for earlier, if he would even give you the chance to. 

Truth is, you weren’t sure if bringing it up again would be a good idea; you wanted to apologise for disrupting his cooldown moment, but what if hearing that made him mad again? Or worse, what if you didn’t apologise and made the situation even bigger? Your spiralling made you lose track of time, and a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“The car is about to leave, Y/N, they are waiting for you,” you heard someone say on the other side of the door. You were at least hoping Lando would come and get you once it was time to go back to the hotel, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, I will be there in a minute,” you replied, grabbing your things and Lando’s before sprinting outside. 

The car ride was hell. Lando didn’t look at you the entire time; he was just staring at his phone, texting who knows who, his face as neutral as ever. It felt longer than it actually was, and when you finally got there, he just stepped out of the car and didn’t look back. You let out a sigh and followed him, leaving a prudent distance between the two of you. 

Once you were in the hotel room, you both started to get ready for bed, like you usually did, except this time, you didn’t acknowledge each other. 

That was until you were already on your side of the bed and he came out of the bathroom, taking the spot next to you and burying his face on his phone again. The entire time you were building up the courage to say something, anything, now that you decided that apologising was the right thing to do.

“Lando?” You called for him, but again, he just hummed in response. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I should have respected that you just wanted to be alone.”

That’s when it hit him. How could he get so mad at you for trying to make him feel better? 

He dropped his phone and turned to face you, and noticing your sad expression and teary eyes broke him. His eyes softened as guilt washed over him. Why were you apologising when he was the one who reacted like that? But as soon as you looked down at your hands to avoid eye contact and tears started falling down your face again, he felt even worse. 

“Y/N… Baby, I’m so sorry.” He got closer to you, softly taking your cheeks in his hands to get you to look at him. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I acted like a dick and raised my voice at you,” he stared, wiping your tears away, carefully thinking about what else he could say. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react. Your plan was to apologise and hopefully move on, but now that he was apologising, you didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want him to feel guilty, even though it was his fault you were in that position right now. If only he took a different approach. 

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? You were just trying to help, and I should have appreciated that, you know that I do, I just... I don’t know, there is no excuse for what I did.” But you were still silent and trying to avoid eye contact. “Baby, say something.” 

“Lando, you yelled at me.” You finally replied, your voice a bit muffled by your tears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”

After a minute of silence, you just nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief. ��Okay.”

“Okay? I’m sorry, my love.” He pulled you into a hug, your head on his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “I know I was a dick, and I really wish I was nicer about it.”

“It’s okay, I get it; you were frustrated with your result, and I should’ve known better than to interfere with what you were feeling.”

“No, it’s not okay. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Lando was rubbing your back softly, trying to bring you the comfort you tried to give him earlier. “I love you, and I can’t describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me; I know having to deal with my shit is not easy, so thank you.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.” You looked up at him, locking eyes finally in the entire day. “Just... don’t push me away, okay? And if you do need to be alone, just say it, and I promise I will listen next time.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

He gently placed a hand on your check, rubbing small circles before leaning in for a kiss, one both of you much needed. And with one final ‘I love you’, you feel asleep in his arms.

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[xinganhao]

🧸 svt checking in on an overworked!reader.

anon → "Can I request texts from SVT who are crushing on yn who is working late, checking on her and offering to buy delivery food since she hasn't eaten?"

⌗ ┆the way this request #healed me.. ty anon. (*´ -`)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: overworked!reader, tired!reader, lots of fluff :(, svt caring for reader, headcanons under the cut.

🧸 headcanons .ᐟ

seungcheol doesn't ask you if you want something; he just gets it for you. he'll get delivered what he thinks is best for your current state or something he knows you'll like. it could be a meal, could be a little trinket. money is of little object when the concern is making sure you're ok. see also: sets a special text ringtone for you, quietly plans a spa day for you to destress once the worst is over.

jeonghan won't go to sleep until you do. his check-ins seem nonchalant, but make no mistake. he's more likely to crash with his phone in his hand, having waited for your reply. see also: teases you that you should quit your job and he'll provide for you, enthusiastically wake-up calls you when you ask for it.

a design program? some excel formulas? joshua will learn anything and everything if it means he can help you, even a little. he'll never force you to give him your work, but he just wants you to know that the option is there. see also: makes you room sprays for days when you're work from home, gives you all the best gossip when you need a break.

junhui's tactic is a little backhanded, but he's genuine enough to pull it off: he gives you something to look forward to. whether it's a trip to an amusement park or the newest movie in cinemas, he's already securing you your much-needed break. see also: watches 'healing' dramas with you, gifts you pillows/blankets/pajamas as a 'gag' gift (when he really just hopes you'll rest more).

if he's not sending silly selfies of himself, soonyoung is bombarding you with photos of latte! he likes to think latte's cuteness eases some of your stress. (although he's also the first to insist that he's much, much cuter.) see also: gets genuinely offended on your behalf when your bosses/clients don't treat you well, takes you to rage rooms after particularly busy weeks.

wonwoo is always on the lookout for listicles about things-that-make-work-easier. he'll buy you a certain type of snack or get you a brand of coffee if someone vouched for its quality. he has a very 'don't-mention-it' vibe about how he cares for you. see also: wordlessly sends you openings to jobs he think will treat you better, asks often about whether your eyesight is worsening because of all your late nights.

it's no surprise that jihoon can be just as overworked as you; what is surprising is his easy willingness to co-work. he'll give up his studio for the night and focus on lyrics or something else entirely if it means keeping you some proper company. see also: buys convenience store meals for you, pries your laptop out of your hands when even he knows that it's been too much work.

mingyu will cook your tupperware after tupperware of meal prep if it makes your life easier. he does it under the guise of experimentation when, truthfully, he just wants to know that you're doing well while doing whatever you have to. see also: drives you wherever you need to go, won't move an inch if you fall asleep on him at any point in time.

seokmin is the type who likes to facetime while you work. you don't even have to talk to him; the two of you often do your own thing, and he just stays around for as long as you need him. see also: sends voice recordings of him belting your 'comfort' songs, showers your work in compliments if you ever tell him of the results/show him the finished product.

minghao is not in the business of assuming what you may or may not need; he much prefers that you let him know yourself. he's usually not so persistent, but he's adamant about not skipping meals. he's always willing to relieve you from the burden of choice— just say the word. see also: sends you guided meditation tiktoks, buys you cute office materials that he thinks you'll enjoy.

seungkwan believes that, in situations like these, photos speak louder than words. he'll send you a lot of uplifting memes that may seem insincere coming from anyone else, but you know that he means every single one of them. see also: always makes sure you have snacks in your home pantry, actively listens and responds to your rants about work.

vernon lets music do the talking. he's the type to curate very specific playlists for your situations; you've received a handful, from 'cramming a report' to 'i hate my boss'. see also: keeps a running list of films that he wants to watch with you when you're no longer busy, reads up on the terms you mention because he wants to understand what your work entails.

chan just— shows up. whether or not you're prepared for it, he'll come at the most ungodly hours, bearing anything from tubs of ice cream to fast food takeout. he either sticks around to just exist in your space or heads right home after; all he wants is to see with his own two eyes how you're doing. see also: sends you 'this is a sign to quit your job!' memes, (jokingly) vows to exact revenge on the company that has you working so hard.

[dinogoofymutated]

You want X-Men requests? Well, I think I've got a few kicking around for our favorite Cajun.

Ok, so this is NSFW but like...imagine overstimulated Gambit to the point where he can only speak garbled French? Idk, I think that's super hot.

YES OMG YES. I absolutely love this idea I ran with it SO QUICK! I'm Southern, but not necessarily the Cajun flavor of Southern, so I tried to use a translator/dictionary for Cajun-French. There's not really a translator for cajun dialect specifically, so forgive me for some mistakes. I tried my best ;-;

Tw: MDNI. NSFW. Creampie, Overstim, Praise kink (kinda). Reader written while picturing AFAB but no genitals specified. No pronouns specified. Soft dom!reader

Anyone looking outside-in on Gambit's relationships would think that the man is a player, due to his flirty nature, and he could be to an extent, but you know otherwise.

Remy LeBeau was a lover boy. Sure he showed out a lot by flirting, but at the end of the day it's you he's coming home to. The moment someone tries to make a move on him and flirting goes to touching, you know he's shutting that shit down quick.

He was all talk, and you were happy to find out that extends to the bedroom.

Now having said this, it's not that Remy was a liar. He's incredible at sex, but at the end of the day when he's with someone he truly loves, his walls come down. Loverboy was putty in your hands the moment you decided to grace him with your love and praise.

"Plus, donnez-m'en un de plus, s'il vous plaît." Remy is trembling underneath you, head tossed back into the pillow and twitching inside you still as he cums hard. His hands are clenched around your thighs, grip loose enough for you to grind on him slowly as he comes down from his high.

"Remy, I can't understand you." You say softly, cocking your head at him as you brush some hair out of his face. He leans into your touch, chest still heaving. He mumbles something else you can't quite catch, before repeating "donnez-m'en un de plus, donnez-m'en un de plus." Again and again.

"Reeemmmy~" You smile, rocking back against him just slightly to make him groan and curse, before leaning forward to kiss him on the chin. He tries to catch you in a real kiss, but you don't let him, choosing to hover over his lips teasingly. "English, please, sweetheart."

"Je commence Cher, don't tease." Remy whines, leaning forward again. You let him kiss you this time, unable to stop yourself from giving into Remy's charms. You grind onto him a little more to hear him moan and gasp into the kiss, and his grip on your thighs gets a little tighter. He mumbles again in Cajun, and you shake your head at him. He'd been trying to teach you, but you still weren't quite fluent. You decide you should ask him to teach you bedroom phrases soon. It'd make this a whole lot easier- but you wouldn't lie, you almost enjoy teasing him like this.

"One more, Cher. Please. Please, give me another one." Remy finally grunts. He looks at you with those pretty eyes of his, all blurry with his pupils dilated. You can't help but lean in and kiss him a few more times. You lift your hips, before sinking back down onto his cock with a little more force this time. He gasps out a broken "merci! merci," tears starting to trail down his cheeks as you start to ride him again.

"Oh- Only because you asked... so nicely." You moan. It's a struggle to get the words out, fighting your own oversensitivity, but hearing Remy crumble beneath you is worth how sore you would be in the morning ten times over.

[tiredsugarcube]

I am in desperate need of more Boss! Nanami who is really strict with you on the workplace but gets really clingy and soft at home. All your co-workers don't know that you both are married except for a select few so they really pity you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANAMI!

" You missed another file, this is less than what I requested. I gave you a specific time frame and you aren't able to do it proficiently? If I were you, I would consider looking for more job options.", Nanami says sternly, voice stern and dissatisfied. Yet his eyes tell another story.

When he left, your office friends comforted you, and helped you calm down (you already were, in fact you didn't mind his antics at this point)

"H-hey, It wasn't your fault anyway. I heard he gave you that task a few hours ago, you were bound to make a mistake."

"Yeah, It's not the end of the world, he seems out to get you or something.."

"But if you really are pressured in this establishment, I'll be willing to help find you other job options and give you recommendations, ok?"

You really are lucky to have such doting friends, but you have a more doting husband waiting.

You were laying in bed, feeling comfortable. Well, trying to be comfortable. Nanami was holding you tightly, bound to you and with no intention of letting you go whatsoever.

"I'm sorry my love, my temper worsened because of some complications with other companies. I needed an excuse to talk to you, those documents were already sorted anyway. Thank you for finalizing them, won't you forgive me..?" He whispers in your ear before kissing your nape, he seems clingier than usual.

"I don't mind anyway dear, I forgive you--but please let me go, you're hugging tighter than usual.." Your heart starts to beat faster and faster

"Because I was harsher than usual, please let me do something to make it up to you." He says before entangling your robe.

"Dear, we have work tomorrow, it might be busy.." you reply wearily, holding his head tenderly.

"I'll file for our leaves, I'll make sure you enjoy this. I need you right now, I think we both need to destress.." Your robe was just covering your arms at this point, letting your body show in front of him. he undresses what's left of him (which wasn't a whole lot in the first place) and carries you to sit on his thigh.

"This is going to be a long night."

"It's funny how you think we'll stop in the morning."

[wileycap]

So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.

So.

It's okay. B, maybe a C+.

That's it.

Now for the spoilers:

The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.

The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.

The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.

Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.

The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.

The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.

Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.

In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.

And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?

Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.

In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"

They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.

It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.

To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, he admits | Aaron Hotchner

MASTERLIST

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: another late night at the FBI meant you were once again buried in paperwork at Hotch’s office. But tonight, something was off—you were unusually quiet and distracted, a rare sight that caught Aaron’s attention. Intrigued, when he gets his answer, he tries to stop you from making that very same mistake, but doesn’t realise it’s for his own selfish reasons.

warnings: age gap, boss x subordinate, ex talk, mentions of divorce, Hotch being hot and reader is all (๑♡ .̫ ♡๑) once again

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

"Straight through the glass door, then right." You stood at the entrance, signalling with your hand, explaining to the man who miraculously managed to get lost to your office.

"Oh, thank you." He turned to look at you once more, a mischievous but beautiful grin plastered across his face. "By the way, I'm Agent Nathaniel Smith."

He reached forward to shake your hand when you replied, "SSA Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Once he took off, you leaned on a door frame of your office, arms crossed over your chest. Then bobbing your head to the side, your gaze followed after the man as you admitted he was even better looking from behind.

Tight handshake, round from behind…

Pouting, you nodded at the thought.

"You meant Soft Spot Aaron’s (SSA) Y/N." A familiar voice came out of nowhere, humming in your ear. You jumped in your place, looked at him over you shoulder and rolled your eyes. Entering the office, Derek came in after you.

"What's up kiddo, you're not in the mood? You didn't like my friend Nathaniel there?" He teased, beaming widely, and pointing his thumb towards the exit where the man had left. You looked at him under your brows as you slumped back in your chair.

"What do you want, Derek?" You answered with a tinge of annoyance in your tone.

"Ah, that hurt." His hand on his heart feigning pain. With one leg propped on the edge, he perched himself on the table, enjoying a sip of coffee from his black FBI cup. You’d enjoy some coffee too. "Tell me, what's bothering you?"

"Ah, Derek..." You breathed out, leaning back in your chair, looking at the ceiling, fingers knitted at your stomach. "I don't think you want to hear that.”

He raised an eyebrow. "That bad? You know that’s my jam, I’m all ears, baby."

Deliberately raising your brow at him, you straightened in your seat and rolled your chair towards the table. “Really?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Sure I do, lil pumpkin.”

When you expressed a sense of superiority through a subtle yet discernible smirk, it wouldn’t be a lie were you to say that panic sprang through Derek’s eyes. So you quickly added, “Game on.”

~

Not long after Derek stormed out of your office, repeating ‘No, no, no!’ more to himself than you — either because he just lost money or because of the thing you’d told him — Hotch appeared at your door. You didn’t notice him, slumped back in your chair, one leg across the other, your hands playing with a pen.

If it weren’t for the two knocks against the door frame you wouldn’t have even noticed him.

You straightened your back, sitting more appropriately.

“Are you ready?” He inquired, his eyebrows inched upward as he looked upon you.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even through the smile that quirked on your lips at the sight of him, your eyes held the smallest hints of concern.

──────────────────────

"Is everything ok?" His voice, simultaneously stern and gentle, pierced through the hush that crept inside his office’s walls.

"Huh?" You hesitated, completely engrossed in the paperwork you were completing. It wouldn't be incorrect to say that you had no idea how you had managed to do it properly when your thoughts were occupied by something else. You were pleased when Hotch finally did speak and directed your attention towards him. Towards something that potentially could brighten your mood. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he replied, maintaining eye contact with you. “You've been unusually quiet."

You arched an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" Leaning back, you took a moment to escape all the work and overwhelming thoughts. "Are you suggesting I talk too much?"

Hotch recognised that small smile of yours, small but enough to encourage anyone — to rouse him.

Hotch knew you.

He responded in his very recognisable calm and professional voice. “That's what you said."

It felt like you two were having this conversation recently, but now the roles had been switched.

"Truth." You leaned in towards the table, reaching for the pen. "No, everything is fine."

But that itch in your head didn't give you peace, and you didn't have the will or enough concentration to continue working any longer with that on your mind, so you blurted out.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “You remember Brad?”

You said it without even knowing why, perhaps because you needed someone to confide in without fear of judgment. Was Aaron Hotchner really that person? Anyway, there was no going back now.

“Brad?” Hotch furrowed, only a hint of a confusion gracing his features before realisation kicked in. “Brad.” He repeated his name blankly, then leaned back in his chair.

Perhaps not.

Of course Aaron knew your ex-boyfriend Brad. Everyone did. And no one liked him.

Well, they were kind of right.

The reason you'd been a bit absent — and why Derek stormed out of your office earlier — was because of your ex-boyfriend. A couple days ago, following your conversation with Hotch regarding his divorce, you got a message on your cell phone. Unknown number. Before even reading the whole message, you had quite a good laugh once you read Brad’s name signed at the end of it. Apparently, he wanted to see you. Of course, you would not consent in meeting him even in a state of madness.

But, having a mutual friend was never a good idea. Brad showed up at the bar last night while you were out with said friend. You were initially just being sarcastic, the irony was coming through. But as time went by, somehow Brad managed to soften you through conversation and touch.

The thought made your skin crawl.

“Yeah… That.very -same -Brad.” You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quivering as you glanced sideways. Everywhere except Hotch. Suddenly, saying it out loud to Hotch wasn’t your best plan. You were almost too shy admitting it. Or rather, admitting it to him. Saying it out loud made Aaron's presence in your chaos feel intimate and somewhat intrusive.

And why?

It was not the first time you two talked about personal lives, dammit, it wasn’t even a hundredth time! You had spent countless days and nights working together, on cases and press conferences, bars and restaurants with the rest of the team, and talked everything out of your lives.

Yet somehow this felt different.

Was it because you were talking about potential someone in your life? Or were you ashamed of admitting to Hotch you were even considering going back to that fool? Were you actually confessing to Aaron Hotchner himself — your boss — it had been a while since you had someone, that you had been that lonely and… needy?

Ugh.

Nonetheless, Aaron could sense the irony and uncertainty as you replied. He toyed with the pen, shaking it slightly in between his index and middle finger as his other hand held his hip.

The things he unknowingly did to you…

“And what does that very same Brad want? To reconcile?”

You quickly looked up at him again.

“I…” you opened your mouth, but the words died on your tongue. His brows were drawn together in a sympathetic concern, his eyes glowed with an inexplicable intensity… Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Did he actually care? To think anything else might have been in question would be insane. But Hotch’d always been protective over everyone in his team, and you were one of them. And no one ever liked Brad, so the stare he had been giving you made perfect sense. “Well… yes. Apparently.”

“And you are distracted by that why exactly?” There was no change in his even voice as he observed you, shifting his head from one side to other. The dim lighting coming from his desk lamp cast dancing shadow across his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about reconciling with…” He halted in self-control, exhaling as his eyes slowly closed and opened. Fatigue washed over him, Aaron concluded. Regardless, he wouldn’t want his professional facade off, at least not when such a topic was in talk. “Very same Brad.”

You would have almost laughed at that, but only managed to smile and shake your head. Brad was not it, you knew that. And yet you were still thinking about it, and why, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t have the answer. Maybe you were bored, or perhaps tired of waiting for someone right to come your way.

It’d been a long time since you had a proper date, to be quite frank. One that didn’t end up in you yawning your boredom away, having Penelope fake call you to leave, having to really leave for work, and so on. It had been depressing to say the least.

You didn’t have anyone or anything planned in your love life for months. The only thing going on in that field (if one could even consider it that) was the crush you had had on Hotch that was somehow worse than pms’ mood swings. One day you liked him, the next day you wanted to rip his hair out. You also knew Hotch was within the reach, and considering and hoping something might have happen with the two of you was equal to hoping for snow in the middle of July somewhere in south Italy.

Your crush on him was there just to spice up your boring day.

Or so you thought most of the time.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t approve. You never liked him.” Is all you said, beaming widely at Aaron. He, of course, didn’t miss the hints of sadness either in your voice. It bothered you for whatever reason that much that you hadn’t been acting all giggly like your usual self.

Aaron’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of his table, his hands drawn together in front of him. “And you… like him?” The tone he spoke in was low and measured, almost intimate.

The tone that felt like a caress.

The gaze that made you feel like you were made of glass and he was too focused to let it drop.

You gulped.

“I- I don’t know.” You whispered through a nervous smile.

You lied. You knew that, Hotch knew that. And the thought of that pinched at your heart.

Some mistakes were just not worth making twice.

“If you are asking about my opinion… which I suppose you might not, but I can’t sit here and watch you make that mistake. But of course, this is about you and what you want.”

To Hotch, this was completely normal. It was almost like a friend helping a friend, or rather a boss advising his subordinate. After all, you were there for him when he needed company — when he parted his path with Haley. So, no, nothing unusual.

Everyone on the team disliked Brad. When she first got on the team, she was in relationship with Brad. They’d been together for three years, Aaron remembered. But not long after joining the team, they split up. Even back then everyone cheered her on and told her it was the right thing to do. Everyone except him, but the reason was that she was a newbie at the time, so of course he didn’t want to pry. Now, it was different… somehow.

“I know you don’t think he changed, you are not naive. But do you think it’s worth it?” His gaze assessed you for a moment before his dark eyebrows lifted, pausing briefly before he continued gingerly. “Does he notice the way you bite inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from saying something you might regret? Or the way you play with your earring when you’re not really paying attention, lost in your own schemes? That stress and all the pictures that come through your desk make you reach for favorite snack in comfort? Or that you smile the most when you have the most in your head?”

Silence.

Brad was suddenly long gone from your brain. The words Hotch spoke made a vertigo in your head, lying to you that there was more to it than it seemed. But at the moment nothing was more important than those little lies he you fed yourself with.

But then your gaze fell upon his hand.

The wedding ring still firmly and warmly hugged his finger making your heart drop.

Hope is the joy of a fool, so they say.

Not that you desired him to divorce Haley. Never. It just reminded you that Haley was and would still be a huge part in his life, and nothing, nothing could ever happen between the two of you. He would always love Haley. So it was indeed a good reminder to keep your head cool, your expectations zero.

His eyes averted for a second or two before he looked up at you again, adding softly — in his voice a mix of gentleness and playfulness. “Or the way your eyes get big and dark when you plead…”

A softness came over your features, a semblance of a smile gently flickered onto your lips. “You know about that?”

Hotch gave you a look that said “Of course I know about that”.

Busted, you nodded. “Of course you do.”

He sighed softly, his face showing exhaustion, a craving for care and an opportunity to relax.

“Now, I know it’s the whole point of our job. To profile people. To notice such things about others, but… Our other half should be just as considerate and aware of us. And I believe you deserve better.”

As he breathed the last words out, he leaned back, his head resting on the back of his chair, the almost see-through fabric of his shirt hugging his broad shoulders. Reaching up his collar, he unbuttoned the shirt — not very chastely as thought it were suffocating him, and loosened his tie.

It was suddenly getting warm with everything he had on his mind — work, fatigue and insomnia, Haley and Jack, divorce, you…

Yeah, you also.

As he closed his eyes, something between a sigh and a moan escaped his throat.

And while all this was happening in front of your eyes, you were practically melting in your seat at the sound he made, at the sight in front of you. You gaped at your boss unashamedly, as if you were hypnotised, your lips slightly parting and only then feeling the dryness of them. You swallowed, wishing you could drink in that sight of him. Oh, you so wanted to… many things. You envisioned getting up from your chair, leaving a trail on his table with your fingers as you made your way towards him before settling down onto his lap and leaving kisses up his jaw.

“Hotch…” you called out absent-mindedly, slowly, as though the words left you without your consent, still very lost in your imagination. “You are right. I deserve something far better than him.”

Not really hearing what you had said, he winced back, eyes and hands searching for a file on his desk. “We should get back to work. I need you to take a look at this report on the press conference you held in Kansas City.”

Trying to shake off that picture in your head, you reached for the document he held for you and put it down on the table. The letters were mix of some unknown words, your eyes only skimming over the files.

If concentrating was hard before, now it was completely impossible.

Sneaking a small look at him, you contemplated about the words he said just minutes ago.

You weren’t stupid — you were aware he’d have to pick up a few ticks and tells of yours and everyone’s on the team, but did he then also know about your silly little crush, and how attracted to him you were? Had he been profiling you all this time like he profiled the unsubs? Did he go in depths into his profiling of you? The thought made your heart squeeze in regret of some not-so-appropriate thoughts and actions you had done.

But then again, deep down you knew he didn’t. It didn’t make sense. Things would have been way different between the two of you had he known.

At last you concluded it was all right.

And that was when you realised he was right.

You had been fidgeting with your earring! Quickly stopping, cursing yourself inside, you took the paper in your hand, giving your best to concentrate and read.

You didn’t even notice you’d had that tick, Brad knew even less.

But Hotch knew. The thought made your heart waltz inside your chest, it was almost too hard not to smile.

But what you also missed was that Hotch had seen your actions causing a quick, but not small smile spread across his lips.

“So I thought we don’t profile each others,” you added, pretending to had been reading the report as silence had spread between you two. “And you say I’m not naive.”

Looking up at him under your brows, you didn’t expect he would have already welcomed you with a biggest grin you’d ever seen on him.

You both chuckled out loud, shaking your heads.

“I didn’t profile you…”

“Aha, aha.” You spoke over him, pretending you didn’t want to listen, like you didn’t believe him. “So you’ve said.”

“When you spend time with someone, you have to notice…”

Long into the night, soft chuckles and small voices could be heard outside of his dimly lit office.

A profiler never misses.

Or that was an excuse he said to himself.

[lixie-phoria]

↳ ♡₊˚. rest please ꒱

9th!member reader falling sick from overwork and stress

requested - yes // Would you be able to possibly do a skz x ninth reader where she’s not feeling well and like throws up everywhere, and chan and the members help her though her not feeling well then specifically chan?

gn!reader x ot8 // warnings - reader is overworked, faints, mentions of diets, reader throws up (lmk if I missed anything!)

there is only one bang chan. you're sure of it. but as you stand up from the floor of the dance room, you see double images of your leader looking at you in confusion.

"yn?"

his voice resonates through your head, like an echo from someplace far, concern woven through his urgency.

you should probably reply to him, right?

"yn? can you hear me?"

when he steps forward, the world shifts. a searing pain runs across your head, like a red hot spike drilling into your skull.

"wha-"

you see it happen in the mirror - your figure collapsing onto the ground, jeongin's panicked yell, and the thud that follows immediately after before everything goes black.

it was just the three of you in the practice room that day, the others too busy with vocal training or recording or filming. it was comeback season, and to top things off your solo project was nearing too, closely following the release of your group album. and to say that you were overworked was an understatement. you don't remember the last time you slept for longer than an hour.

your days revolved around practice, recording, photo shoots, diets, promotions, and what not. this was busiest you have ever been, and it was slowly starting to show.

you register a dull pain in your upper arm and the throbbing of your head as you blink up at the bright ceiling lights glaring at you. you're covered in sweat, lying on the couch with your head awkwardly propped up against it's arm rest.

"she's up!" someone shouts as your senses return to you slowly. you're still in the dance room, but everything feels stuffy. someone is pressing an ice pack against your forehead.

"yn you scared us!"

all the members seem to have assembled in the dance room, crowding over your figure.

"what happened?" your voice is hoarse and your head feels groggy as you sit up, leaning away from felix as he tries to push you back down.

"you fainted! you were out for nearly fifteen minutes!"

"what?"

"yeah. scared the life out of chan hyung," jeongin adds.

"of course she did! do you know how worried we were?"

you feel mortified. you can't believe you fainted in the middle of practice.

"are you ok? does anything hurt? you fell pretty hard."

you shake your head - no. of course, the pounding in your head was getting worse and you were sure you bruised your arm but you weren't going to tell them that. being the maknae meant they already babied you a lot. there was no way you would admit how sick you felt.

"alright good. let's leave then."

"leave?" you stare at chan in confusion as he goes to unplug his phone from the speaker.

"yeah. you don't think we're going to let you dance after this, right?"

your eye twitches in mild annoyance as you listen to him speak so matter of factly.

"how come i don't have a say in this?"

"because the last time we let you have your say, you passed out."

"i'm ok! i don't need a break," you hiss, eyes narrowing as chan turns to look at you exasperated.

"yn-"

"i passed out, so what? big deal! you can't just call off practice when we have an album coming out!"

your voice escalates as you snap, and the others look at you in shock.

"yn calm down-"

"stop asking me to calm down!"

you don't know where the burst of annoyance was coming from, but it was strong and red hot, urging you to take it out on your members.

"i'm fine! stop treating me like a baby!"

you push away felix's hand from your shoulder, standing up to prove your point.

but that was a big mistake.

an ugly feeling immediately rises up your chest, slithering through your throat as the world tilts again and the lights blink at you.

"fuck."

you were far from fine, and that is the last thing you register before pushing past lee know and han, running out of the room and to the nearest washroom you can find, heaving your insides out.

it's terrible, kneeling on the ground as your head pounds worse than ever and flashes fill your vision.

"yn!"

you distantly register chan's panicked voice as he skids into your cubical, wasting no time in kneeling down right beside you, pulling your hair up into a makeshift pony.

"i need you to breath, ynnie. let it all out," he whispers softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you back as your body tembles from the gags.

a small part of you wonders what chan is doing in the washroom, before realizing that in your hurry you probably ran into the common staff bathroom.

"are you feeling better?"

chan's hands hover behind your back as you weakly get to your feet, mustering the energy to pull the flush and rinse your mouth with water.

you can do nothing but nod, slumping against him as you exit the bathroom, and his hands immediately clasp your waist, holding you up.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes as you let him guide you to wherever he decided was best.

"it's not your fault."

"i shouldn't have yelled at you."

"it's ok, yn. we all have our bad days."

you feel the cold breeze on your face as you open your eyes to see he's walking you out of the building's back door, with your manager waiting with the car.

"if I take you to the dorms will you please rest?"

your brain wants to refuse. you need to perfect your choreography. you don't have time for rest.

but your body is an entirely different story. you can barely walk or see straight.

"ok."

your voice is small, and chan immediately knows you're reluctant.

you hear him sigh softly as he helps you into the car before climbing in himself.

"ynnie, please rest. or you'll get worse and might not recover until the release day. wouldn't that be worse?"

he does have a point.

"and taking a break is okay. you're doing so well, you don't have to push yourself when there's nothing you're lacking in."

he ruffles your hair softly as you lean into the seat.

"thank you."

"don't thank me when I didn't even realise how overworked you were until you literally collapsed!"

you laugh softly, slightly leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"don't blame your-"

you're cut off when Chan's ringtone blares into the silence and he jumps slightly, fishing out the device from his pocket.

"fuck."

"what's wrong?" You turn to look at his steadily paling face.

"I forgot to tell the others you're okay and I'm taking you back to the dorms."

"shit," you agree, wincing as chan hesitantly slides the accept button.

"hello...?"

"YAH WHERE ARE YOU BOTH WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING THE BUILDING FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES IS YN OKAY?"

lee know is loud, and chan has to lean away from his phone as the second oldest's voice comes out loud enough as though he's on speaker.

"minho-ah I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you guys. She's okay now we're going to the dorms."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT?"

you sigh before taking the phone from chan as his wince deepens.

"I'm okay. I'm so sorry for worrying you but please calm down."

the change in lee know's voice is so immediate it earns a snort from chan.

"oh yn, of course! Please take care, I'll bring back some soup and ramen for you when we come back from practice."

"thank you! Now please stop worrying."

you hand back chan his phone as he flashes you a grateful smile.

"i hope he brings me back ramen and soup too."

©lixie-phoria, 2024

taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[paigebueckerlver]

Wet dream

Summary: Paige has a wet dream about her "straight" roomie(reader), somehow Paige can't get her off her mind...but she finds a way

Warnings: smut, 18+, plot, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), Paige makes you feel good..

A/n: first post and I'm feeling fweaky.. ENJOY! (Did not proof read sorry for mistakes 😢)

1:07 a.m.

The touch of her roommate, feeling the warmth of her fingers against her back. The lingering scent of her vanilla perfume she always wears. Every inch she touched Paige's body...never missed a spot. Kisses on her legs, her soft cherry lips moving down to her heat.

Paige lets out a soft moan which awakens her sleeping roommate. She looks around still fighting sleep, turns her desk light on low to not wake Paige. She gets up from her cream colored bed to check on Paige. Paige is letting out slower groans so y/n decides to wake Paige.

"P?... are you ok?" As Paige hears her roommates voice she shoots up from her sleep tiredly rubbing her eyes to answer. "mmh? why are you up so late y/n?" Paige opens her legs a bit to stretch but y/n notices a wet spot on her bed. "Did you have a good dream Bueckers..?" Paige is still confused and her roommate points to the spot on her bed, Paige, embarrassed shoves her face into her hands. Y/n giggles as she sits next to Paige wondering what her dream was.

"Wanna tell me what that dream was about? Or who...?" Y/n smirking a bit. "N-nothing I don't remember" Paige quickly trying to save herself from this moment. "I think you know exactly what that dream was about Paige." Her roommate says as she lifts Paige's hands from her face to look at her. Paige takes a second to admire the hot roommate she's thought about for months. She was wearing a loose white tank with no bra so you could see a little under due to the dim desk lamp, Paige's red plaid pj's that fit her hips perfectly. Y/n's eyes still watching Paige as she studies her body. "Like what you see P?" Her smirk is growing bigger. "Fuck" Paige breathes out while moving her eyes back to her roommates. "You don't know how badly I have thought about you since the day you moved in y/l/n" Paige says as she's now putting her slender fingers on your thigh inching to your heat. "Oh really... I think it's time I switched .. I need you PB" As soon as Paige heard the soft spoken girl say the last word, she doesn't take a second to pull the girl on top her lap shifting her hips perfectly on her thigh. "Fuck you don't even know what I wanna do to you right now baby" Paige explains. "Show me then." Y/n whispers into her ear. Next thing you know Paige smashes her pink lips onto her roommates cherry ones. during this intense make out , y/n is grinding back and forth against Paige's thigh letting out whimpers here ad there. "Paige I need to feel you" the roomie says. Paige turns her around throw her onto her back and getting between her legs. "Paige!" Y/n yells not expecting Paige to do that. "Take them off" Paige says sternly pulling on her roommates pj's . Y/n complies and slips them down and throws them somewhere in their shared dorm,leaving her in her Calvin Klein grey underwear. As she does that Paige does the same leaving herself in her black boxers. Paige kisses down y/n's neck leaving light marks on her , knowing she isn't necessarily "gay"

Her roommate groans at the dirty touch of Paiges lips. She hears this and smirks against her neck moving down to her boobs. Paige looks at y/n for consent, she nods implying to go ahead. Paige lifts her tank, the yellow dim light reflecting off her roomies pierced nipples. Paige takes her mouth over one, licking and sucking her nipple, her other hand playing with the other, pinching and rubbing it. "Omg Paige, feels so good" y/n breathes out due to the pleasure she's never received by any man. Paige moves lower until she gets to her heat. "I'm gonna make you feel s'good pretty girl" as soon as Paige finishes the sentence, she dives into her roommates pussy, pulling her underwear to the side. Licking up all of her wetness and letting it drip from her nose.

"FUCK P, h-holy shit" Paige smirks and starts sucking harding and licking long strokes over your clit, she moans at the new pace “too fast P, s-shit” y/n whimpering at the feelings of her roomies tongue on her pussy. Paige shakes her head back and forth “You can take it come on” she speaks firmly and dominantly.

She pulls away from her pussy, and takes her two middle fingers to y/n's mouth. Shoving it deep until she feels her finger tips touch the back of her throat. Y/n leaking from the mouth, sucking and licking every inch of paige. Paige takes her fingers out, teasing her rommates tight hole. "I want you to cum for me, you got that y/l/n?" Looking up at her roommate, laying there with a sloppy mess all on her face, slowly dripping to the side of her cheek. "Y-yes P, please just touch me, I need you s'bad" She enters her wet pussy. fingers deep inside her as her thumb comes to rub on her clit “Too much baby. it’s too much” her roommate whimpers at the overstimulation. That sounds only motivates Paige.

Her fingers curling inside y/n, her mouth agape due to the overwhelming feeling over Paiges fingers inside her. “i love seeing you like this, all slutty and vulnerable for me" paige rambles, her eyes lock y/n's , holding a deep an intense stare. Paige continues to finger fuck her roomies tight hole, going knuckles deep into her, letting her juices leak out. "FUCK BUECKERS IM GONNA CUM" y/n yells not being able to hold herself back anymore. "Cmon be my good girl, cum on my fingers, let me hear it" Paige says as she's watching her roommates limp body under her

“P-Paige I can’t” her roommate whines as her cum runs down her hand, the overstimulation starting to catch up even more. Paige rides out her high and she pulls away from y/n's sore pussy. “You did s'good for me mama, so well my girl.” praising her for being good for her. Paige gets up to grab a warm rag to wipe her tired roommate due to the action... After she's done Paige lies down next to her roommate trying to get comfy. Paige looks over to her, but she's already staring . "What?" Paige questions."tell me what that dream was about" y/n mumbles tiredly. Paige gets close to her ear, "it was a wet dream...about you sweet heart" y/n smirks, nuzzling her head into the crook of Paiges neck. paiges hand caressing y/n's back until they both fall asleep...

______________________________________________

HEY GIRLIES! I hope I served as much as I thought I did. First Tumblr post WOOOOO. Anyways I hope your week is going amazing, can't wait to write more fics for you pretty girls! 😘 😘

-Jay

[txttletale]

Ok so, let's assume there are 2 steps on how to deal with AI, which are:

give up on luddite dead end pursuits of turning back the clock to more indivualized production

put energy into productive working class organizing

Could you please elaborate who is even trying to do that thing you mention in step 1? Those in denial? I have yet to see anyone, all I see is people being upset and thus hating it, which is a natural reaction to having your art be stolen. Give it time, people need time to process this change.

And regarding your step 2, that's gonna happen either way? I mean, what choice do artists have? Same as all tech that those in power want to push, ai is gonna persist, it's inevitable, as is artists trying to adapt.

I genuinely see no sense in posts advocating for ai, like, it doesn't need that, it's doing good without you guys, it has a pr team working tirelessly trying to integrate it daily. What are tumblr users who advocate for it trying to accomplish here? Make artists hate it less? As an artist whose art got stolen, even if I do manage to successfully adapt, I will not stop hating ai and those behind it? Like, what's the purpose here 😭 Sorry this got kind of long

i mean i don't consider myself an 'advocate' for 'ai art'. generative visual art is an artform i personally have little interest in making. i think if openai went bankrupt tomorrow it would be awesome and very funny. you are making a classic mistake, which is to assume that every issue is like a splatoon splatfest with two clearly defined teams. i point out that the things that people frothed up into anti-AI hysteria say are at best untrue and at worst deeply reactionary, pushing right-wing social views about art or right-wing economic views about copyright because i think those things are bad.

i don't bother making posts pointing out that, like, @ApeHODL69Doge on twitter who thinks every movie will be ai generated by 2026 is moron because, very simply, i don't exist in a social environment where i run into that kind of guy or anyone who doesn't think that kind of guy is a moron, and also because liberals can and have done a pretty great job comprehensively debunking that type of guy's nonsense arguments and empty tech hype.

this does not apply to me but many users on tumblr who "advocate for AI art" are literally just defending themselves against vicious ableist harassment mobs who think it's okay to tell a disabled person their disablity isn't real or they should draw with their mouth or they're just whiny because they used the funny picture machine, so i think what those people might be trying to accomplish is to stop getting harassed, and i think that's a pretty admirable goal

my personal goal is to encourage people to think more critically about new technologies and understand that where these new technologies immiserate them it is because of the social structures and economic system under which that technology is deployed, not because of an evil devil curse lurking in the technology itself. hopefully this answers some of your confusion.