#this has been taking up so much of my thinking i have to put it somewhere

[disneyprincemuke]

randomantic * op81

it's just oscar being randomly romantic, because that's the type of person you make him

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

notes: noelle don't write an oscar fic that's not entirely filled with silliness and nonsense fluff challenge

(f1 masterlist)

you close your eyes and suck in a deep breath. you stand at your front door, having just inserted your key into it. you let out a shaky breath as you stare down at the door knob.

you’ve just had what felt like the longest day in a while. it feels like nothing has gone right for you at all — it’s so overwhelmingly irritating. you just know that the smallest thing will set you off and on the other side of this door is the most loving and doting man you’ve ever met in your life.

a man who doesn’t seem to have had a bad day in years, always donning a wide smile on his face with a composure you could only wish you had. you don’t want him to be the scapegoat that gets the brunt of your bad day.

you compose yourself with one last deep breath before unlocking the door. you try to sport a small grin as you push the door open. “i’m home.”

oscar’s grin meets you right at the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame as he wipes his hand on a towel. “i was wondering when you would come inside — i heard you fumbling with your keys a few minutes ago.”

“oh,” you try to laugh it off as you kick your shoes off and walk over to him, “i was trying to recall if i’d forgotten something at work.”

which, now that you think of it, is very possible. did your water bottle ever make it into your bag before you left the office?

“you’re back there in a couple of days,” oscar mutters, arms spread wide as you walk further into your apartment, “if not, i’ll go over and pick it up for you.”

he wraps you into a tight and firm hug, making you feel relieve, even if it was just a little. he grabs either side of your cheek and mushes his lips onto yours. “i made us dinner.”

you hum and furrow your brows as he takes your hand to lead you in. “what? but it’s my turn to make dinner.”

oscar shrugs with a small smile. he looks over his shoulder and gives you a quick wink. “i was feeling inspired.”

you almost burst into tears when the dining table comes into view — two plates with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers on the clean table. you’d been wrecking your brain for dinner options tonight. you’d considered ordering in, but it’s oscar’s crunch time right before the season so he has to watch his diet.

“do you like it?” oscar beams, puffing his chest proudly. he grabs the bouquet and reaches out to you. “and some flowers — we can’t have a date without that.”

“i love it, oscar,” you smile, reeling him in to press a kiss on his lips. “thank you so much.”

you wake up alone in your bed. oscar had an early morning, heading into a busy day.

you briefly remember sitting up for 5 seconds, long enough for him to give you a quick kiss and a tight hug before bidding you goodbye. though you wish you’d have woken up slightly earlier or stayed awake for longer to be with him.

you feel a sense of dread at the empty day ahead of you, working from home in an empty house is daunting for the week you’re having. you can almost tell how much you wouldn’t get done at all with the pit in your stomach and the numbness at your fingertips.

you wanted to send him a text, asking him to take the day off and come home to be with you. but you refuse to be that person.

you can’t simply ask your busy boyfriend to drop his obligations just to spend time with you because you’re a little under the weather. it’s not always about you.

sighing, you turn over to face oscar’s side of the bed. you pull the blankets around your body a little tighter.

you flinch at the stuffed bunny sitting upright, probably put there by oscar before leaving, with a bright orange post-it loosely stuck to its paw.

‘good morning, my love :)’

you smile. these little post-it’s are rare to find during this off-season, but they are always appreciated wherever they are.

the good morning note, however, is a first. oscar’s made a habit of leaving a few as reminders for you for days that he has to separate from you at the crack of dawn. they are often sweet, usually just reminders, but always in such a loving manner. how he manages to make simple post-it reminders sound so thoughtful, you’ll never know.

when you make it to the kitchen, there’s another stuck to the door of the fridge.

‘left some documents behind and had to u-turn. i got you breakfast on my drive back <3 fridge, second shelf’

you open the fridge and sure enough, there’s a sandwich with a cup of iced coffee sitting pretty on the second shelf. there’s another post-it.

‘eat well, pretty’

you proceed to eat breakfast with the biggest grin on your face.

oscar walks into the room, in the midst of dressing up for his busy day. you’re sitting by the edge of the bed, slouched as you type away on your phone. probably answering some emails before you head right back to sleep.

he grins to himself and creeps across the bed over to you. when he realises you hadn’t acknowledged his presence, he softly hums and gently presses his lips on your bare shoulder. his other arm is slung over your stomach as he pulls you in.

“what’s got my girl so busy this morning?” he hums against your skin, reluctantly pulling you back down to lie with him in bed. “it’s too early for you to be up.”

you groan and throw your head back, throwing your arms back. “answering a silly important email that was sent at 3am.”

“ridiculous,” he mutters. he tightens his arms around you and sigh. “i wish i could lay in bed with you all day. i’ll miss you today.”

“i’ll miss you too. i hate working from home when you’re not around.” you wiggle in his arms to face him, grabbing the sides of his face. “i should shrink myself so you could put me in your little pocket.”

he laughs at the absurdity of your idea. though, he doesn’t entirely hate it. he leans forward and nudges your nose with his. “i told you: quit your job. follow me around all day — i promise i’ll treat you like a princess.”

oscar jokes about this often: getting you to quit your job so you could simply be by his side all the time. while it sounded fun and relaxing, it simply is never as easy as just quitting and being his fulltime wag that watched him in the garage every weekend.

it’s just not a life that sounds like it would be for you at all.

“don’t be silly,” you whisper. you nuzzle your face into his shoulder with a soft sigh. “i can’t just do that.”

“ah, i know.” he squeezes your hips, thinking of a way he could somehow manipulate his day into ending earlier. perhaps there’s something he could forgo so he can come home earlier to you? maybe he’ll skip the gym and go tomorrow instead. “you know what?”

you hum, “what?”

“let’s go for a fancy dinner outside tonight,” oscar giggles. “i’ll call in for a reservation, okay? just show up and i’ll take care of the rest.”

you raise an eyebrow. it’s not that you don’t often go on dates with oscar in a week. in fact, you would love to argue that you and oscar go on more dates than an average couple does.

this week just feels different. perhaps you’re just having a worse week than usual. you start to wonder if he can tell that you’re having a hard week.

“are you sure? aren’t you busy?”

“never for you,” oscar smiles. “so, i’ll pick you up at 7, okay?”

not a lot of people could have guessed that oscar is one of the biggest perpetrators of hogging a karaoke mic.

your week has finally ended, and oscar has dragged you along to a small outing with his group of friends for a quick hang out before the season starts. you don’t even remember who suggest the thought of renting a room to do some karaoke; could have been fred, or maybe even oscar himself.

“oh, man,” logan throws his arms into the air when a familiar beat comes on. he holds his head in his hands in defeat. “who let him have the mic?”

“i swear i didn’t let him queue this many songs!” fred defends himself with a soft cry, pointing at the central machine in front of him. “they’re all love songs too!”

his friends’ groans echo in the room as oscar picks up the mic proudly. he puts his cocktail down on the table in the centre of the room before he turns over to you, sly smile and the mic pointed over at you. “this one’s for my beautiful girlfriend.”

logan scowls. “gross.”

“shut the fuck up,” oscar mutters, before walking over to you. he holds a hand out to you and grins. “don’t mind them, they’ve just never been loved the way you love me. get up, you’re the lucky girl i get to serenade for the rest of our lives.”

fred scoffs, a hand over his chest. “okay, ouch.”

@foreveralbon

[itzpookiepooh]

Let’s Get Married

Inspired by Let’s Get Married by Jagged Edge

Sylus adored everything about you. The way you brushed your teeth, the way you laughed, even the way you tripped over the same spot in the base that’s been there forever. He couldn’t not love you. You’ve given him every reason to love you. He loves how you love the boys, he loves how you are eventually able to get along with Mephisto.

He loves that you reassure him on his baddest days. He loves that you take care of him the same way he takes care of you. He could make an endless list of reasons he loved you but then he’d be writing even on his deathbed. You were both slow dancing to one of his many records. He was teaching you how to waltz which turned into you guys just feeling the music.

He stared down at you in admiration. You weren’t done up or in your hunters uniform but laid back and yourself. Your hair was tousled from the long day and you were in your loungewear. A soft smile makes its way onto Sylus’ lips. He was a man of extravagance that much was true but he was also for living in the moment. You take your head off his chest to look at him. You giggle at the fact he was already looking at you with those piercing red eyes.

“What?” You giggle softly, “Is there something on my face?” Sylus just chuckles before sighing.

“Marry me.” He mumbles making you both stop swaying. Did he really just ask you that? Right now?

“Are you serious?” You whisper as if the air was knocked out of you. He smiles making you clutch his hand tighter.

“I don’t joke about things like this.” He assures you, “I’ll do a grander gesture another time. This moment was too perfect to pass up.” He reassured you in case you thought he didn’t care enough to make the gesture.

“Yes.” You whimper as tears sprang to your eyes. He held you close letting the tears run down your face. This is what made life worth living.

Caleb has watched you grow into someone so brave it puts him to shame at times. He can’t help but admire everything you do. He’s always seen a future with you away from Linkon. A nice house, a dog or two, maybe even a kid. Whatever you wanted he would give you. He knew he wanted this, forever. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

You were both watching Gnomeo and Juliet, a movie you guys hadn’t watched since you were kids. Caleb wanted some nostalgia tonight like he does many other nights. You were curled into his side as you both watched the scene of Gnomeo and Juliet meeting. Caleb couldn’t help himself.

“Marry me.” He blurted out, “please.” He whispers but you just stare at him.

“Does Elton John get you in that mood or something?” You question him. What is he thinking? How does this movie make him think that?

“No I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He sighs, his nerves setting in. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to call you my wife.”

You were stunned, not shocked because you’ve seen a future with Caleb. You always have but you never knew when to bring it up to him. Your heart was pounding as you stared at him which didn’t help his nerves at all. What did you have to lose? You both wanted the same thing.

“Yes—yeah, of course.” You ramble making him laugh and pull you into a hug. He kissed your forehead twice and squeezed you tighter. You just made him the happiest man on earth.

You and Xavier were baking, well you were baking and he was passing you ingredients. His cooking got a lot better which was great for you but you didn’t trust him enough to cook alone. You guys were baking some desserts for the hunters association party on tomorrow. You both were having fun and covered in flour and batter. Xavier was making your job a bit harder because he kept ‘tasting’ the mix. You didn’t mind much though because you enjoyed spending time with him. You did tell him to slow down on the eating because you didn’t want him to get a stomachache.

After taking the cake out of the oven, you high five Xavier. He smiles at how happy you were about you guys’ accomplishment. He loved how positive you were about everything. You always found a bright side even if it seemed like there wasn’t one. He knew he loved you when he started staring at you longingly. You put him in a daze just by being you. You occupied his thoughts no matter what was going on.

“We should get married.” He spoke without thinking but he didn’t regret it. You stared at him with wide eyes not fully processing what he just said. Was he proposing? Was he crazy? So many questions and not enough answers.

“Have we been in the kitchen too long?” You ask genuinely. Maybe the fumes were getting to him and he needed to step onto the balcony.

“No.” He laughs before leaning on his elbows on the kitchen counter. His voice became softer as he spoke, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

Your jaw was on the floor. You spend the rest of your life with him? This had to be some sort of fever dream. Xavier was straightforward but this was surprising even for him. You couldn’t gather words as he just watched you fumble. You settled with an enthusiastic nod, too tongue tied to give a verbal answer. He smiles at your answer before rounding the counter to kiss you. He was extremely happy that you said yes.

Rafayel can shout from the rooftops about how much he loves you. It would be pointless considering just about everyone in Linkon knows it. He can’t not bring you up whenever he’s having a conversation. He will find anyway to squeeze you in there. He would tattoo it on his chest if he were into it. There is no him without you.

On this particular day he was to unveil an art piece he had been working on for weeks. You knew it was special when he wouldn’t even show you. It intrigued you what was until that veil. Could it be another environmental piece? A new color perhaps? Only time will tell.

Rafayel unveiled the piece for you and immediately your jaw was on the floor. It was of you and him, he dipped you as you held a bouquet of flowers. His nose nuzzled in your neck as you laughed. Anyone would think this was a portrait of a distant memory but no he painted your future together. You felt your heart skip a beat at the sight. He was proving himself to you in the most beautiful way possible.

“I want nothing more than to wake up to you everyday. Go to sleep with you there everyday.” He starts making your lips tremble. He tilts your chin up to look at his watery eyes, “Marry me?” He asks his voice shaky as he spoke.

“Of course.” You smile wiping your eyes, he holds you close as you fall into his arms. This was a moment that would be engraved into his mind for the rest of his life.

Many thought of Zayne as boring, nonchalant and so forth and so on. Not to you, never to you. He was expressive you just had to get to know him first. He’s thoughtful, kind and caring, many of the reasons why you love him. He loved you for some of the same reasons and even smaller ones than that. He loved the way you’d curl into him unconsciously when you guys were in bed. He loved the way you’d make him lunch with a cute note inside. He loved how you loved him unconditionally. Even when his evol first went out of control in front of you, you didn’t run away or cower away from him, rather you helped him through it.

You guys were basking in the night sky as fireworks exploded in the sky. He could’ve been watching the sky and how it lit up beautifully yet he only saw you. The fireworks reflecting off your eyes as you sat in awe at the different colors and designs it spewed. He felt so content in your presence no matter what you did together. You quickly tap his hand and point to the huge explosion filled with orange, pinks and purples. How could he not want to spend the rest of his life with you? Music played in the background as he felt you lean into him.

“Where do you see yourself in the future, Zayne.” You murmured as the fireworks calmed down. He sighs as his lips tugged upwards.

“I see myself…still being a surgeon however, I’ll have something more.” He hints making you furrow your brows. You look at him curiously wondering what he meant.

“A promotion?” You questioned. He was at the top what else could he want? Did he want to own a hospital of his own?

“Yes, you can call it that.” He teased making you narrow your eyes as they dart around. You were thinking to yourself all the possibilities he could mean. He cupped your cheeks bringing you closer to him.

“I want the next stage in my life to be an important milestone…together.” He clasps you and his hands together. Your eyes search his before they widen in shock, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much.” He softly spoke placing his forehead on yours.

You felt your water line fill as you thought about it. You didn’t think he wanted a life with you. You didn’t know why but it never crossed your mind. Living in the moment was all you wanted to do with him. Not push him for change or nag him about anything like that. Being here with him right now was enough for you. Always.

“We’re getting married?” You breathe making his eyes soften as he chuckles.

“Only if you want to.” He murmured kissing your hand. You felt the tears fall as you try and stop them. He stares at you fondly, his heart beating for you.

“Of course I want to. What kind of question is that?” You cry as he chuckles before hugging you and kissing the crown of your head a few times. The fireworks explode above you sealing the moment in your hearts forever.

I love cute/romantic moments they warm my heart 🥹

[zenoxonslibrary]

Entire Transcript of "This Anime is Offensive by Scamboli Reviews":

The internet is quite pissed by this. This anime was shot, scripted in AI, generated by Corridor Digital. You know those guys? They did real-life Minecraft, Dark Souls, Halo, Mario—they even showed a real live woman at some point. Corridor got their hands on Stable Diffusion, it's this AI that… I don't know, does AI? But it was sloppy, so they clashed heads, did research, and two months later, we got an eight-minute-long short film produced by people who never had to pick up a pen. Imagine RDC getting their hands on this—the kids that will run around doing crazy sketches. Never before has animation been more accessible to the average person. And never before has that extremely specific demographic of white dudes that are extremely active on Twitter, with thick-ribbed glasses and beards, been more angry. And that… that made me so mad on so many levels.

Here's the thing: on one hand, I think AI is terrifying, and I want it to go away. On the other, I know that it won't go away and that screaming at excited nerds will do absolutely nothing. I'm not an AI technician, nor am I extremely smart, but God put me on this Earth to talk about things I know nothing about. I would like to discuss why people are angry, who's angry, and share my perspective on this whole ordeal. And to do that, we're gonna have to watch a video made by Mother's Basement.

Mother's Basement hates this. "I am insulted, and so should you." Jeff is an anime YouTuber that has been on the platform long before I have. He's part of a small group of creators who pioneered this niche to where it is today. In his video, Jeff makes some very valid points about the grim future that could lie ahead of AI… and zero good points about what Corridor has to do with that. Like, this dude for real said: "This video? It's not art. Not." Jeff will not call this video art. In fact, he doesn't consider anything AI-generated to be art. And I actually agree with that last part. Art is an expression of human creativity. As soon as a machine does the walking, you're already lost. Millions of photos—regardless of copyright or if the author likes it—are used to train these AI. They teach it to guess which colors and shapes go where on a grainy image. Not only is this overpowered as hell, but it, by itself, is devoid of creativity, which is derived from our personal experiences and biases. Jeff, I'm with you 100% when you say this… but you have to stop yourself from… from… ugh, talking.

If you're gonna be out—I know some dipstick will jump down to the comments to say—"The only difference between an AI reproducing an art style and a human artist doing it is the time it takes." Now, wait a minute, hold on. I just don't think this is a very well-coded comment. What you said is not funny enough to be that rude. If you're gonna be a dick, hide it with as much humor as possible, like what I'm doing.

There's a part of this video where he's like, "If they were interested in making something with even a shred of artistic legitimacy, they could have hired an artist or two to draw up the model sheets their AI would use. But instead, they just went and stole a bunch of frames from Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust and trained their computer." Someone better call the cops! This is where anime YouTubers do our job—we steal frames. We just take clips of anime and talk over them. But Jeff, you and I are artists. We transform the work we talk about; we reshape it with the aid of our personal experiences. I don't think you can be on the side of anime abridged and critique AMVs but flip as soon as someone uses software that digitally collages that same content.

To say that Corridor made something without a shred of artistic legitimacy is disingenuous. This team had a vision they wanted to achieve, so Corridor problem-solved. They combined the discoveries of multiple users to get this AI looking the way they wanted. They had to tune the hell out of it, write a short film, voice act, normal act, buy costumes, teach the AI what they look like, turn those photos into anime images, pop open Unreal Engine to set up a bajillion cameras with different angles so they could superimpose their animated bodies onto a new environment. And even then, they had to add so many things in post. Storytelling, acting, editing, videography—if you don't think the convergence of all these skills is art, then I don't value your opinion on this topic.

And then there's those sassy fingers. I don't like those sassy fingers. And B, how come every time you call this video an anime, you got to use air quotes? "Anime" looks like ass. You made a video called Avatar is an Anime. "Avatar is an anime?" Fight me. You of all people should not be doing the sassy fingers.

In that video, he made the point that anime is a movement—an artistic movement within the medium of animation, not unlike post-modernism or the French New Wave in film. Everything that makes anime anime—the big-eyed aesthetic, the over-the-top action, the mature themes, the overt sexuality—is a part of that movement. The line between anime and not anime is gray. It doesn't even have to be hand-drawn or made in Japan anymore. So if it looks like anime, sounds like anime, and is written like an anime, what's stopping it from being anime?

There's this video of Aaron Blaise, a dude who animates for Disney, reacting to Corridor's behind-the-scenes. Numerous times, he stops the video and points out, "Yo, that's just like how we made Snow White." "No, it's not too different than what we did on Beauty and the Beast." "We shot reference a lot." AI doesn't write the script, make a story, or rotoscope itself. This is an art form—an art form that is very distinct from all other animation we've seen. If you want to call it animation, it's constantly rotoscoped. It has some jank messed-up hands, and yeah, it's got the hands garbled, monster faces, and not to mention their six-fingered thumbnail. Okay, I don't think this will replace animators in the same way that CGI didn't replace animators. But who knows?

Tech is evil. Recently, I visited ChatGPT for the first time, and within 15 minutes, it had quoted Biggie Smalls saying, "I'm slamming like a dungeon dragon, coming around the corner with the gangster lean." Biggie Smalls has never said that. So then I asked it to write the description of a pickle but as a Dark Souls 3 item: "Era, this pickle has withstood the test of time. Once used as a means of preserving food, it now serves as a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. Consume it to restore a small amount of health, but beware the potential side effects of consuming a food item of unknown age and origin." Yeah, in about five years, these things are replacing me.

When I talk about AI, I don't want anyone to be under the impression that I don't sympathize with everyone whose jobs are in jeopardy. I'm scared as hell. But this situation constantly reminds me of the people that freaked out over the Industrial Revolution in 19th-century Britain. Weavers and textile workers were way more important. It could take years to cultivate the skills necessary to weave with the best of them, and it could take several hours to produce very little cloth using a loom. Then some guy is like, "Hey, why pay people when machine work free?" The world agreed. Automated loom factories started popping up around the 1800s. They continued to get more and more badass, and instead of using a single skilled worker on one machine, suddenly one guy could oversee a bunch at once. Now, every once in a while, the machines would eat a woman or small child, but that didn't stop anyone from using them. This is also how our politicians work.

But think back to those weavers—the people who worked for years doing this stuff by hand. They were sort of phased into obsolescence. Would they just take that? No. A group that would be known as the Luddites began burning down factories and destroying knitting frames in protest. This movement was quickly adopted all across England until, finally, the government heard the voices of the people, saw the pain they were in, and… chopped their heads off. (It just says "executed" here, so that's an artistic change by me. I was really proud to find this in the newspaper clipping.) By 1813, the Luddites had faded into history. That's pretty messed up, right?

On the flip side, look at how painters first responded to photography. Paul Delaroche was this hugely influential artist in the 19th century. He has this hard-ass quote after he was allegedly shown a photograph: "From today, painting is dead." We know that photography didn't kill art. There were even artists at the time who were excited by the idea: "We can use the strengths of both mediums to improve painting rather than replace it." But the feeling that technology will one day automate your job and push your skills into obsolescence existed nonetheless. We've seen it happen. It's very hard to tell who's going to be the weavers and who's going to be the painters in this situation. Only the future knows for sure.

I agree with Mother's Basement on a lot of fronts. A really good point he makes is that currently, this AI stuff can't be copyrighted. You can even take a frame from the Corridor video and sell merch with it. As long as the AI is trained on material you don't own, it's not yours. But what if a big studio hires technicians and artists to train AI with material they own? That gives studios a massive advantage over the little guys who can't afford that. And if it gets good enough, workers could even be phased out if they go on strike because, guess what? "We can make up your workload until you accept a lower wage." There are so many ways AI can benefit humanity—conversely, an equal amount of ways it can tear us apart.

Jeff, what the hell does this have to do with Corridor Digital? It seems like the internet has some misplaced aggression. This is a very emotive topic, so I can understand why people might get angry with Corridor at first glance. "Did we just change animation forever? Uh, I sure hope not." But Jeff is tripping when hearing anything Corridor says. He takes the most sinister, non-charitable interpretation every time.

Exhibit A: When I first watched the video, Jeff had me thinking, "Oh, Corridor maybe paid a subscription service for an AI and is charging people for tutorials on how to use it. That's kind of messed up if they're using copyrighted material, which is what will happen if the technology and processes Corridor are advertising—and apparently tutorializing behind the paywall on their website—do take off." This is false. First off, Corridor is using three open-source software to achieve this effect. They don't get money if you use it. Jeff never mentions that. So the "technology and processes Corridor are advertising"—stating it had me confused—but what Corridor did was push a new technique using the software. They got the animations to flicker less and got the AI to stop changing styles constantly. Then they recorded an hour-long tutorial that teaches you how to replicate that same effect.

"One thing I want to talk about is the democratization of this process. This is a situation here where we're looking at a piece of software that's free, that anyone has access to—a process here that we're sharing openly with everyone because everyone's openly shared knowledge with us." But how is it democratizing animation if the tutorial is behind a paywall? Well, I went and made an account. Oh my god, it's free! This long-ass tutorial is free. If you're only after their technique, you can plug in your card number, get 15 days of free usage on their website, and bail. Once we have the hour-long tutorial, it's not really an ad for that—more so the exclusive content on their site if you decide to stay. But Mother's Basement said—wasn't lying per se, but that's pretty scummy and dishonest in my opinion.

Dishonest is the perfect word. Exhibit B: Mother's Basement is being dishonest when he says, "They're clearly pitching this as a disruption to animation, not VFX." Not VFX? So you also say they're advertising how to cut animators out of animation? Let me just say, dog, that is your pitch. Their pitch is literally at the start of your video: "Wouldn't it be cool if you could film yourself and easily turn into anything you want, like a cartoon character?" Over and over and over, Corridor drives home the idea of giving the little guys—the creatives, groups like Corridor—the ability to make animated stuff. Regardless of what you speculate will happen in the future, this is what they're advertising. This is the pitch.

"And people can experiment and improve upon the process, helping all of us get better. That's great. I love that idea—sharing the knowledge. That's what it's all about." How can you, on one hand, claim they're trying to cut animators out of animation and, on the other, clown them for trying to make it more accessible—for them wanting to democratize animation? See, he's doing the fingers again. You can't have both.

Also, Jeff hates black babies. Maybe even Chinese ones too. That's what I took away from the video. That was a joke. Jeff loves all babies. But do you see how I can infer something, construct a straw man, and make that the thing people attack? Sure, you feel they're advertising how to replace animators and disrupt the world of animation, but what about their words and actions leads you to think that's their intent? Otherwise, you're just kind of… Exhibit C-minus.

From the one and a half million views in three days and tens of thousands of likes on that video, we can also see that the tech is already good enough to satisfy a sizable group of people with little to no taste. Weird statement, right? If you clicked like on this video, you have little to no taste. It's not like I don't know AI is cool and people just want to see it. I got a lot going on, okay? I don't need an anime YouTuber—the pinnacle of human performance—telling me I have no taste because I think a video is interesting.

Continuing on that track, Jeff goes on to say, "And knowing what… in terms of visual… Tokyo Revengers… it's entirely possible that studios will get away with it." And correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't this guy bought and paid for by Record of Ragnarok? No offense, but who gives a damn what you think about people's tastes? You endorsed an anime that isn't animated. In case you're not aware, Record of Ragnarok is an anime that was received terribly by fans for how poorly animated it was. One of the fights is a straight-up slideshow. Jeff was paid to do a reaction video to promote the anime.

"Freaking orbital laser-level attacks! I love it! Wow! Mid! I love mid! Mid! Yes! Whoa!" Jeff, in retrospect, realized the taste thing was a very stupid thing to say and had to issue a retraction in the comments.

My point is, if you're going to get so emotional over a topic that you're lashing out at people who don't deserve it, maybe it's time to take a step back. Jeff is mad—so mad—like a lot of people out there. And emotional investment is a great way to construct bad arguments to support your feelings. And they throw very valid speculations about what a future with this technology could look like, but when it comes to what the hell Corridor Digital has to do with it all, you see dishonest arguments, straw men, and this clip that he, for some reason, thought was a gotcha.

Because when it comes to these AI tools: "Hey, sure, it makes it easier to copy people's style. So somebody just rips out somebody's style—call them out and be like, 'You rip that person off! Screw you!'" So then we went and we took a bunch of frames from Vampire Hunter D. Of course. Am I the only one who had to rewatch that to see what point he was making? Nico says, "Let people know whose style you're using," and the next clip is Nico saying which style he's using for the AI. Doesn't this seem perfectly consistent with what he just said? Would shift your perception of things? And it's like, "Aha! Caught red-handed!" Somehow.

I don't think people are wrong to be scared or upset at someone, but I think the internet has a fat case of misplaced aggression. Some dudes tweaking software to make AI mildly more presentable aren't what we should be directing our attention at. I think exploring how we can work alongside and legislate this stuff is… I want a future where art coexists with AI in the same way photography did with painting. And I am positive that right here, right now, there is some way we can take that first step.

"We need an active, aggressive counterculture that pushes back against this nonsense wherever it rears its ugly head. AI anime needs to become as dirty a word as NFT." Your solution is to make it cringe? "We will stop AI from stealing our jobs by bitching about it." The sales volume of NFTs has gone up. How is this your solution?

There's a misconception on the internet that bitching about things somehow either changes people's minds or makes the problem disappear. Let me give you an example. When Nike put out an ad endorsing Colin Kaepernick's activism, people felt the type of way. All across the U.S., men and women thought to themselves, "I'm gonna burn every damn Kaepernick jersey I got!" These were our intellectuals, our leaders. Many joined the cause to be just like them and burned their Nike products to send a message. Nike sales changed dramatically, and the company's value went… up by six billion dollars. The movement, which aimed to be as flashy as possible, actually ended up being a phenomenal advertisement. And a lot of people were just like, "Yep… I wish I had my Nike stuff back."

More recently, there's the Hogwarts Legacy boycott. Hogwarts Legacy is this game set in the Harry Potter universe. Now, the author of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, had nothing to do with the production, but she does receive royalties. And J.K. Rowling is guilty of transphobia, so she's dead in the eyes of the public. People repulsed by her words decide to boycott the video game as to not support her even a little bit. Fair enough. But boycotting the game wasn't enough. It was these people's responsibility to boycott for you. Tweets rained down upon any streamer caught showing interest in the game. A VTuber was bullied to tears for playing. Hell, people were harassed and picked on by rabid activists. It didn't matter if you were famous; it didn't matter if you weren't. The internet decided that buying this game was an act of hate, and it was their job to stop it. The game just outsold Elden Ring. Turns out, bitching online is a great advertisement for the thing you hate.

I can't be the only one who didn't know or care about this game until the activism. Relax and take notes: "Get the aggressive counterculture to curb the sales of Hogwarts Legacy." No. It did, however, make people feel like they're part of a movement. It was a quick, free placebo for change. It's easy to get behind a movement without thinking of how you're perceived by outside groups because I promise, in both of these cases, people who didn't immediately agree looked at the stuff being posted and thought to themselves, "Okay…" and kept it pushing.

This is exactly what I think when I see someone post a picture of themselves having fun with AI and see those tweets that are like, "This is just you stealing from artists. It's lazy. Stolen from artists that deserve to get paid. Disappointed in you." Do you think anyone has ever read one of these types of tweets and thought, "You know what? You guys are right"? No. "I just want to see how I would look as an anime character. I'm not making merch. It's cool." AI is cool to play with, so people are going to play with it—just as being a wizard is kind of cool. I'll just do it in private if you're gonna yell at me.

Statements like these are great for people who already agree with you, but outsiders are the ones you want. And picking odd fights like these is a terrible way to recruit outsiders. Attacking Corridor is not the way. The march of technology lies not in the hands of YouTubers but in the audience that consumes that media and the laws that govern it. If there's a market for it, it will exist. Simple as that. There's nothing we can do to stop people from refining AI. Right now, thousands of people are tinkering away, trying to find the next foothold towards making the stuff look good. Corridor's video was only possible because of the thousands before them.

So the aim isn't to stigmatize innovating with AI. The cat's out of the bag. The aim isn't to pray people have high enough standards to not like the stuff. I'm sorry, Jeff. The aim is to create a world that coexists with AI. What laws can we enact that will protect animators? What are some general practices that the average person can agree on? I don't have all the answers. I don't even have a good amount of answers, but here's a start:

Corridor should have credited Vampire Hunter D on the main video. I don't think they made an attempt to obfuscate where they got the style. In fact, the behind-the-scenes video credits Vampire Hunter D for the style multiple times. It has damn near the same amount of views as the original. But a good practice to always have is saying, "This AI was trained on images from X." It gives the average person a better idea of what they're looking at, and a quick disclaimer like that on the start would help promote the original works even more.

Here's another one: Jeff was very, very doomer about that copyright stuff. If big studios hire people to train AI on content they own, and indie studios can't afford to do so, that's unfair. True. But since we're in the land of make-believe, let me put something out there: What if someone trains an AI on all the public domain stuff out there? I use public domain stuff for my videos all the time. This way, artists could even opt in instead of having their works taken. I have a friend who knows artists who would like to do something like that. Indie studios can then use this AI and feed it images that they created to replicate that style. And boom—ethical and legal. I don't know if the law would allow you to retain copyright, and I'm not going to learn, but that's kind of how sampling public domain music works, so I figured it'd be fine.

That brings us to the end. I'm not an animator nor a lawyer, so I don't have anything groundbreaking to bring to the table. But if you want to know my opinion, I think a lot of people are freaking themselves out for no reason. The whole "I oppose this thing, so I must attack anything related to it" mentality is silly. If that's how things worked, the vegans running around throwing period blood at butcher trucks and getting run over would have the meat industry on the ropes. That's how I see Jeff saying, "We need an active and aggressive counterculture that opposes AI anime wherever it rears its head." He thinks he's Rosa, but like… Jeff, I love animation, and I respect artists. They should be getting paid more and don't deserve to have their jobs threatened. I just don't see Corridor getting in the way of either of those two things, and there are actual animators that share that feeling.

Jeff deserves respect. He's an OG. If you're interested, check out his original video. I could chop and skew the stuff he's saying—you wouldn't know. But more importantly, subscribe to me. I don't make stuff like this often. I'm gonna be honest—I probably never will again. But anime, manga—hey, uh, where are you going? Don't leave me yet. Please subscribe. Subscribe.

ai generated images make me increasingly sad and tired the more i see them in more and more casual contexts. i dont know how to explain, but it just fills the world with a bunch of nothing. no matter how visually stunning the pictures might be, there's nothing behind it for me. no dedication, no emotions, no feelings, no hard work or creativity, nothing i can truly think about, admire or enjoy. i dont think thats how art is supposed to be

[moonstruckme]

hi!! if you’re up for it could i please request a poly marauders (or really any of the marauders) x passively depressed/apathetic reader. like reader being nervous about a doctors appointment and having health anxiety but then saying “oh i don’t even know why i’m scared because it’s not like i’ll care if i die,” and the boys just being like ??? just a lot of comfort pls!! love your work btw!! (sorry if that’s kinda confusing 😖 english isn’t my first language)

Thanks lovely <3

cw: depression, reader has some passive suicidal ideation but it's from an outside perspective

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 850 words

Remus rubs your shoulder after you get off the phone call confirming your doctor’s appointment. You sink into his side like dough softening at rest. “Would you like me to go with you?” he offers. 

You hum, quiet and complaisant. “You don’t have to.” 

“I don’t mind. It’s after I get off work anyway, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So what else would I be doing but being with you?” He says it with some levity, hoping to inspire a similar feeling in you, but you don’t crack a smile. 

Instead, you sink deeper into his side, the collar of your jumper rising up to bump your chin in the process. You look like a tortoise retreating into its shell. Remus kisses your hair. 

You’ve been rather in your own head lately. Quiet, passive, not really laughing. It tears at Remus’ heart to see you so upset with yourself, but he’s not very worried. You’ll come out of it. He’ll help you. And he’ll be here with you in the meantime. Even if it doesn’t always seem like you care for him to be. 

“Do you not want me to come?” he asks, trying not to let insecurity leak into his tone. 

“No.” You finally look up at him, your sweet eyes guilty. “No, I’d like you to come. If you want to. I just, I know it’s not fun, so if you’d rather stay home…” 

Remus makes a dismissive sound, relieved. “Don’t be silly, I always have fun with you. Sweetheart, you could make the doctor’s office fun.” 

This time you hear the humor in his tone and smile. It looks like it costs you some effort. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shushes your thanks away, going back to rubbing your shoulder. “Are you nervous?” he asks. 

You sigh as though disappointed with yourself. “Yeah. I don’t know why.” 

“That’s alright, lovely. It’s not how anyone wants to spend their time. And you always worry that something awful’s going to be wrong, but it never is.” 

“I know,” you say dully. “But I don’t get why I’m worried. I don’t even really…” 

You trail off, your mouth wincing like you wish you hadn’t said anything at all. You won’t look at Remus. 

He knows what you wanted to say. 

I don’t even really care. 

You don’t care about much these days. What you eat for dinner, how long your commute from work takes, what film your friends want to see at the cinema. But Remus thought you still cared about some things. The important ones. A heavy, sick feeling takes form in his stomach. 

“Hey,” he says softly. It takes you a few moments to look at him, but you do. You look the tiniest bit afraid. Not in the same way he is; not for yourself, only for what you might’ve revealed. “Can I give you a hug?” 

You frown, nodding like of course. Remus uses the arm already around your shoulders to bring you into his lap, your knees folded on either side of his hips. When he rubs your back, you curl forward to put your face in his neck like you’ve been waiting years to do it. 

Your warm breaths tickle against his skin. He loves you so much he thinks he could collapse under the weight of it. 

“Thank you for making the appointment,” he says, making broad, sweeping circles on your back. “It matters to me that you’re healthy, and that you’re taking care of yourself. It’s important.” 

You deflate a bit against his front. He can nearly picture you shutting your eyes, brows pinched. “Remus…” 

“I love you,” he presses his lips to the side of your head, “so much. We’re going to be old and feeding birds in the park one day, you know? I need you to be able to come sit on our bench with me.” 

There’s a prolonged silence, wherein Remus begins to worry he’s frightened you into reticence, but then, “We already feed birds in the park.” 

He smiles. “We do. But it’ll be much more becoming when we’re all feeble and grey, won’t it?” 

“You’re feeble now.” 

“Oi,” he laughs. Utterly delighted with you. “When did you get so sharp?” 

“Sorry.” Your cold nose bumps his throat. 

“That’s alright.” Remus kisses your head again, not wanting you to begin feeling guilty. “I know you don’t mean it. My sweetheart.” 

You go quiet again after that. Remus tries again. 

“So, it’s a date then? Me, you, park on the corner in fifty years?” 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” you mumble lazily. 

“Mm, do that. See if you can pencil me in.” He rubs your back. 

“Who knows if there’ll even still be birds then.” 

Remus hums. “God, yeah. I hope there are. We’ll still be there, at least, won’t we?” 

It’s transparent, this plea for reassurance. He cringes with the audaciousness of it, worries you’ll decide now to stop sharing anything with him at all, but after a beat of quiet you sit up. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, laying a simple kiss on his lips. “Course we will.”

[cosmerelists]

Would These Cosmere Characters Survive Email?

There was a post I saw talking about how Achilles of Iliad fame would not survive sending one polite email, despite being good at, you know, war and stuff. It got me wondering: Would Cosmere characters succeed if they had to Send Email?

1. Steris: Yes

Steris is a master of email. She's cutting down her enemies with "per my last email" and "just to make sure we're all on the same page" and she knows how to use both CC and BCC.

2. Vin: No

Vin is leaping out the window at the first sign of email.

3. Kelsier: In a way

Kelsier signs off every email with "Smiles :)" which is terrifying, given some of the emails he writes.

4. Marsh: Yes

Marsh doesn't think that Kelsier writes good emails. Marsh, however, feels that he writes very good emails. Most of which contain the word "however."

5. Lezian: No

Much like Achilles in the post I saw, Lezian would die if he had to send one (1) polite email.

6. Sadeas: Yes

Sadeas has one of those fancy email signatures that says "Torol Sadeas" with green lettering in a cursive font. Adolin has always been secretly jealous of it.

7. Dalinar: No

Dalinar strikes me as one of those people who are incapable of answering more than one question in an email, who when asked, "Would you like to have the meeting Tuesday or Wednesday," simply respond "Yes."

8. Marasi: Moreso than she thinks

Marasi is always having a friend read over her email for her to make sure it's okay, but she's actually very good at email and probably doesn't need to do that.

9. Vivenna: Less so than she thinks

Vivenna writes emails that are politic but incisive...and never once has she been understood properly. Greg from IT still hasn't forgiven her for that email she sent a year ago that Vivenna thought was pretty charming.

10. Jasnah: Yes

Jasnah's emails are long, polished, and perfectly grammatical, and her eye only twitches a little bit when she gets "yeag" in response.

11. Lightsong: Yes but also no

Lightsong's emails are great! But of course, it's actually Llarimar writing them according to his "interpretation" of what Lightsong says.

12. Shallan: Yes but also no

Shallan was taught Proper Email Technique as part of her education. But also she saw that "Your timesheets are now three days overdue" email...and then she ceased to see it, and now she's busy designing Adoliin a new email signature that's way better than Sadeas's and uh maybe Radiant needs to take over again.

13. Adolin: No

The worst turn-based combat, in Adolin's opinion, is email. Why can he not simply duel Maurice from Accounting with swords?

14. Sarene: Yes

Sarene's favorite turn-based combat is email. Because she always wins.

15. Raoden: Yes but it's not his favorite

Raoden would much rather pick up the phone or stop by your office, but he can do email if he needs to. It's just much better to talk in person, you know?

16. Fort: No

His emails keep getting flagged as spam. If he didn't put "Great Deal!!!" as his subject every time maybe it would be different.

17. Yumi: No

It's not that she writes bad emails exactly, but she definitely overwrites them. Her intro paragraph is always like five lines long, and her conclusion turns "best wishes" into like nine sentences.

18. Rlain: Yes

Rlain is unfailingly polite in emails, even when he is responding to one that was...less than polite.

19. Sazed: Yes

Sazed's emails are meticulous and well-written, and he can always cite the exact policy he needs.

20. Renarin: It's mixed

Renarin appreciates that email allows you to consider and craft your response, but he does NOT appreciate that tone is impossible to determine. When his boss wrote, "We need to have a meeting," Renarin thought he would die (it ended up being about what color balloons to order for Sharon's birthday). Renarin just wishes humans would use email tone indicators like the Singers do.

[misserabella]

okay idk if you’ve done smth along the lines of this before, but spencer and reader who has an oral fixation and maybe reader likes sucking his thumb? he’d be SO flustered the first time and struggle to speak, as well as be put off bc hes a WELL KNOWN germaphobe, but i think he’d come to like it

suck on it

spencer reid x fem! reader

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, making out sessions, mentions of dry humping, hickeys, thumb sucking, spencer and reader being messes, dom! spencer and sub! reader, flustered couple, oral sex (spencer receiving), dirty talking, reader being a brat and spencer taming her, reader has acrylics…

okay, hear me out…

at first, he’d start to notice these little things that you do. like bite your lip, wet it constantly with your tongue, bite on your acrylic nails, play with pens near your mouth —sometimes biting them too— and the sweets you’d eat. you always had a lollipop in your mouth, sucking, circling it with your tongue…

spencer, having the huge crush he had on you, already had a hard time not looking down at your lips, but you made it near fucking impossible.

he learns more about your oral fixation when you start dating. especially when you kiss. at first both of you were shy with it, taking it slow, but a few weeks in, you’re having full on making out sessions, and he finds out you really like to kiss —kiss him specifically but anyways—. the way you’d glide your tongue against his? suck it into your mouth? god. and the hickeys you’d leave down his neck… he loved it.

but then, it happens. you’re having a mug of hot chocolate a cold afternoon in his apartment, watching doctor who —he had to show you how amazing the show is!!— and in a sip, some whipped cream stains the seam of your bottom lip. instinctively, his thumb swiped at it to clean it, but before he could retract and you could think, you’re sucking it into your mouth, wiping it clean with your tongue.

at first, both of you sort of panic. spencer the well known germaphobe is about to go on a tangent about how unhealthy that had been. you could easily catch a cold by the amount of bacteria that could be on his hands —even if he had cleaned them before hand, twice.—, and you’re babbling ‘sorry’s and ‘i didn’t mean to do that, i don’t know why i did that’s, but you both notice a very… flashy and prominent thing; spencer was hard.

he scrambles to cover it with a cushion. you two hadn’t moved past some dry humping. your eyebrows rose as you looked at him, and he didn’t —couldn’t— meet your eyes. you then took his hand, and brought it towards your lips, taking once again his thumb into your mouth. his mouth falls open as you suckle on it, as you slowly circle it with your tongue, and that’s when your suspicion becomes reality; spencer liked it. you smirk as his breath hitches, his pupils blown. he pushes further into your mouth, and you deep throat his thumb. he groans, and you hum in delight, gagging as he presses down on your tongue.

let’s say, that afternoon you end up deep throating something much deeper and larger.

sucking on his thumb becomes something of comfort for you, and a clear turn on for him —for both of you—, but it’s when you start running your mouth, acting like a brat, that he shows his true colors and uses that oral fixation of yours.

“this is what you wanted, huh? what my pretty girl needed to shut the fuck up? had to fuck this tight little throat to keep you from running your fucking mouth, yeah? then take it. deeper. thaaat’s it. atta girl.”

you’ve never loved your oral fixation more ♡.

@cafekitsune ‘s dividers!

@pixie-verse i loved writing this! hope it came out how you expected! xx

[bnh8]

All of these actions can be easily defended though, so I don't think Haymitch was acting stupid.

Him drinking poison water wasn't stupid because none of them had any way to know that it was poison. It's not like the game makers told them beforehand, all the tributes just had to find out by trial and error just like Haymitch did. The first few tributes that ate the fruit or drank the water died, and the others learned what not to do by witnessing it.

Supporting quote: "I think about the two cannon shots that fired after the bloodbath. Did one career and one newcomer die, thereby alerting the rest of their alliance to the poisonous nature of the arena? Reminds me of the canaries we take down to the coal mines in 12."

During the countdown, he did get distracted by the rabbit, but it wasn't just because he's a dunce, it's because they literally put some kind of drug in the air around the cornucopia that impaired the tributes' thinking and made them all disoriented and unable to think clearly. He had to cover his nose and try not to breathe it in in order to get his mind back on track, and some of the other tributes were so dazed by whatever was in the air that they didn't even step off of their plates until several seconds after the gong had sounded.

Supporting quotes:

"I remember the dazed look on the tributes' faces as we awaited the gong. Did the air drug us? And is it contributing to how weak and sick I feel now?"

"I block my nose and begin to mouth-breathe to avoid the dizzying scent." "...Focus! my brain orders. What are you supposed to be doing?"

"The heady scent of pine and blossoms wafting through the woods calms my racing heart. Charming.... enticing.... these words don't do it justice. There's something almost magical about it, as if once inside those leafy arms, nothing bad could ever befall you. This must be how insects feel in the nepenthes plant, right before they drown."

"I allow myself one quick glance over my shoulder, which is enough to reassure me that the careers are late to the party, some still on their plates, others slow on the uptake and just reaching the weapons."

Him not covering his tracks in the bushes was obviously not good, but in his defense, he was still impaired and recovering from the effects of the poison. He was VIOLENTLY sick and barely able to walk. Yes, he should have covered his trail if he was well enough to think logically, but he physically wasn't able to do much of anything except use the last of his strength to drag himself to that bush and then collapse (and again, he had no way of knowing that the water was poisoned, so not his fault).

Supporting quotes:

"...so I wobble off the the north. It's no good. After a few hundred yards, I slide to the forest floor, throw up my latest charcoal tablet, and scrunch back into a ball. The chills begin, racking my body and causing my teeth to chatter so hard I'm in danger of breaking them."

"...[I] consider climbing a tree, but I'm so woozy I'm sure to tumble out."

"For several hours I alternate between violent chills and drenching fever sweats. Pain spikes my muscles, and my head feels like it's trapped in one of Tam Amber's vises."

I don't want to be that annoying person that goes actually-🤓, but I think most of Haymitch's actions weren't particularly stupid. He was a teen that was put into a really fucked up arena unlike anything there had been in the past, where the air and water are poisoned and he has no way of knowing this except for finding out by trial and error. Most of his mistakes were pretty reasonable mistakes to make.

(Also I'm not sure what you're referring to when you say an "alarming number of bunny related decisions." I'd love to hear you elaborate on that lol.)

katniss: how do you think haymitch won the games?

peeta: he outsmarted the others

haymitch in his games: drinks poison water, falls asleep in a blueberry patch without attempting to cover his tracks, tries to pet a bunny during the countdown, makes an alarming number of bunny-related decisions in general

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

how about (webseries + dream bbq? if it's no problem) ena with an s/o who has a child?? like ena discovers they have a child and when they become a thing, they introduce her to their child?? i'd also love to see mother ena <33

Yes oughh. She could be a good mother :(( /ref

Gonna put the hcs under a cut because I think I locked in a little too much haha

.........

Webseries!Ena

Above all things, your kid was your pride and joy.

They were basically a mini version of yourself. Boundless. Full of energy. Ever curious about the world around them.

They just spawned in one day while you stood around pondering what having a child would be like. It was only a fleeting thought, a small wish you kept in the confines of your heart, convinced it would never come to fruition.

But it seems like the Great Runas heard you and was feeling particularly generous.

Now you have someone who looks up to you for guidance and love, and for years it's always been that way. Just you two against the world.

Then Ena walked into your life, and she hasn't left since. She claims to have seen a "mini you" running around recently and thought you had shrunk in size, being disappointed she couldn't catch you.

Only then do you realize she's seen your kid but didn't know...

So after building up a close relationship with her, you figured now would be a good time for a proper introduction. You invite her over to meet them, and you explained to them beforehand about her arrival.

Untimely as ever, she walks in, but before you could say anything, she's rambling excitedly. "Salutations! So you're the little fragment of joy I saw running amok the other day. If not a clone, what's your relation to my beloved partner? Sister? Nephew? No, no, wait..you're their third cousin twice removed!" She grins, crouching down to their eye-level.

"Ena..this is my child."

"...ohh, I see. I see." Something in her tone shifts as her gaze meets yours. It's subtle, but she looks disheartened. "Dare I ask..who's the father? Or mother? Or...alternative parent?" Each question is laced with more dread than the last, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her geometric skirt.

Of course, you should have known...

"There's nobody else. I promise. It's always been just us." You reassured her, before looking at your kid with a smile. "This is Ena. The one I was talking about earlier. Don't mind her fancy words. She's been good to me."

"Woah..you're Ena??" They seem astonished, at first, but then a skeptical look crosses their face. "My friends say you guys are bad luck, and trouble always comes from you."

Your girlfriend's yellow half still smiles, but inside she could hear her cubic heart crack. Yet she maintains her composure. "Ahaha! Not to worry, little one! I have been your parent's most loving other-half for....3.5 consecutive months! The follies you hear are just that! I'm most confident that we'll get along!"

After that initial meeting, Ena tries spending more time with your kid...although they still seem nervous around her, which she chalks up to them listening to the rumors and utterly despising her presence.

She wants to set a good example, and she's been great at warning them about falling rain rocks, stopping them from taking blood samples/IDs/files from strangers, and making sure Moony (who gets the "fun aunt" designation) isn't being a bad influence.

Yet it never feels like it's enough, stressing as though she's the mother herself, even when you remind her she's not.

That crack in her heart has only gotten bigger. Like a neglected pebble that was lodged into a car's windshield last week.

Her Sad form had one major breakdown when she discovers your kid warmed up to Moony quicker than her, but you reassure her that they will. It'll just take some more time.

"Bu..But what if *hic* we wun out of tiiiiiime??????"

"We won't, Ena. I promise."

One night, while your kid was at a friend's sleepover, you and her went out to a party to celebrate an anniversary. She got Drunk and had to be carried back to your place, where she kept giggling and babbling nonsense about motherhood (yet somewhere in her nonsense, you could hear her sadness, deep longing, and desires for acceptance)--and she promptly passed out.

Your kid came home earlier than expected, saw her Demon side for a framerate or two and got scared, running to hide underneath their bed.

The next morning, you tell her what happened, and you wish you didn't.....because now she's facedown on the couch, sobbing her eyes out. "I give uuuppppp," she wails, hitting her fists against the cushions. "I-I'll be nothing morwe than a..a-a stwanger to them! They can bawely even look at me!!"

You only understand half of what she's saying, but as you try comforting her, your kid suddenly walks in, looking very confused.

"Oh hey, um...." You panic a little, although they see your girlfriend crying and quietly go over to her, their gaze full of worry.

"Mom?"

Immediately she falls silent and looks at them in shock, wiping away her static tears. "Wh-What...did you just call me?"

Even you're astonished.

After months of being referred to as "Miss Ena" and "My Parent's Girlfriend of 3.5 Months"....they finally call her "Mom".

She looks at you, then your kid, then you, and back to them, eyes still wide.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just nervous." They explain, feeling a little guilty for waiting this long. "It's only been us two for a long time. But I know you love my parent, and they love you, too. I want you around more often. So...I-I'm ready to call you "mom", if that's okay."

"Bu...But what about your fwiends?" She sniffles. "Y-You still believe them?"

"Nah, they were actually real jerks. So I left them. That's why I came home early last night."

"What? But..you've known them fowever...and now you're lonely because of me..." She mumbles, feeling sad that she's the reason for yet another ruined friendship. She's ruined a few of your past ones simply by existing...and now your kid's.

But they don't seem bothered by it at all. "I'd rather be lonely than have friends who talk bad about my mom all the time."

Hearing that word makes her cry again, but now her blue side is actually smiling for once. She sits up, allowing you kid to climb onto the furniture and into her lap, embracing her tightly. "Thank you..." She whispers. "Thank you so much."

Never before has she cried happily. It's a new feeling.

But she welcomes it. Just like she's ready to fully welcome your kid into her life.

All the while, you smile too, nearly tearing up yourself.

You couldn't be prouder.

Dream BBQ Ena

It's just another day at the office, where Ena eavesdrops on a conversation between you and Froggy.

"Ughh, fine. You can go home early. But you know...you should bring that duplicate of yours to work sometime! We could always use the extra-!"

"Hell no. My kid's not gonna get wrapped up in all this mess. And that's final."

"Ehh???? You get the final say??? Remind me again who hired you?"

"Um...Ena?"

"....right, erm...okay. You can go on, I guess. But I expect you back here early tomorrow." Froggy grumbles, suddenly getting the suspicion that you two are being watched, and promptly calls out to his coworker. "Oi! Ena!! Stop being a creep and come talk to us!"

Her head peeks around the corner, followed by the rest of her body. "Sorry to intrude on this private board meeting, fellow associates." She pretends she didn't hear anything about your kid--being unaware of their existence until literally right now.

Yet you know that she knows, as it's obviously bugging her when she walks you home (after promising Froggy that this is an escort, not an unmandated break). Salesperson is chatting away about tomorrow's goals and yesterday's deadlines, but you haven't heard a word out of Meanie yet.

She always found it odd that you didn't work the longer hours like she did, as though this job wasn't the core focus of your life. It wasn't in your blood. In your veins. It didn't define you. Consume you--unlike her.

Oftentimes she wonders what kind of life she'd lead if not burdened by her duties.

Today, she discovered the reason why you randomly asked if this job had paternity leave.

It's your kid, who just spawned into this world one day and hasn't left your side. They've grown some, but still they run to greet you after work like always, and you'd pick them up with a smile bigger than the sun.

However, this evening's routine is different because of Ena's presence, as she awkwardly stands in the doorway.

"Who's that?"

"Oh!" You set them down, clearing your throat. "I think it's high time that I introduce you to Ena. We work together, and we are together, if that makes sense."

"Ohhhh...so does this mean she's my mom now?"

The question is innocent, blunt, and unassuming, holding a twinge of excitement and hope, even.

Your kid adores you, but every now and then has wondered what it'd be like to have two parents. They've seen different media about it, and heard about it from friends, too, so you knew this subject would come up eventually.

While you've entertained the idea, you weren't sure about Ena's feelings towards motherhood, considering her job and all.

In embarrassment, you lightly scolded them and turned to apologize to your girlfriend...only to see that she's frozen on the spot, like a TV segment somebody forgot to unpause. Her geometric claws twitch at her side, and her eyes are hidden beneath her hat. It's like some uncomfortable memory had resurfaced...triggered simply by saying the word "mom".

You wonder what's wrong, but her Salesperson side slaps her out of the trance, and she teleports into the middle of your living room space, scooping up your kid. "Ah! I see we have a CEO in the making! Coming soon to a dying business near you! Do you plan to step into my beloved associate's shoes once they retire? Are you investing wisely?" She puts them down, and kneels, grinning from center line-to-ear. "What's your evaluation of my work-life balance, little entrepreneur?"

"....um. Good?"

"Thanks for your feedback."

Least to say, it's not the best introduction...but not the worst, either. You'll try again tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes, you decide to bring your kid to the Hub to meet your coworkers (after they've been practically begging you to), making sure they didn't go down into the casino.

While they play with Kane, you're sitting on the pier, overlooking the bloody ocean. Ena shows up and sits beside you, but her movements are rigid. She's not chipper. She looks uncomfortable, and her Meanie side seems to crave conversation. An explanation.

So you talk.

"Darling..I'm sorry I didn't mention them before." You frowned, your hand resting on hers. "I wanted you two to meet a lot sooner, but-"

"Is there someone else?" Her voice is flat, although you detected a slight tremor in its tone.

Sure, Meanie would yell at people if she even thought they were trying to flirt with you....but this was different. This was insecurity at its core, and it's understandable for her to feel that way. If it was reversed, you'd get insecure too.

"No. It's only been [Child] and I. I'd never do that to you."

"......."

"Look, I know what they called you was a little..awkward. I'm sorry. I already talked to them abou-"

"They're your reason."

"Huh?"

"They're your reason for what you do. Everything you do, you do for them. But...where's mine?" Tiny cracks and vines begin to creep along her body, and her hands tremble. Salesperson doesn't interfere this time. "Wh-What..am I even doing here, [y/n]? I take the stupid jobs I'm given...I clear the smoke....and for what? Myself?! WHAT AM I EVEN FIGHTING FOR ANYMORE?!! A MINIMUM WAGE??? A POINTLESS EXISTENCE???"

"Ena. Hey. Hey."

She suddenly looks at you, static tears falling freely from her eyes. But you bring her into your arms before she could think of drying them. And she buries her head into your chest, clutching at your uniform, desperate for grounding.

Ever since her flashback when you two met the vending machine entity in the Lonely Door...you've been worried sick for her well-being. You didn't wanna see her fall apart like that again. Especially not after the rain rocks consumed her in the white and barren Uncanny Streets, and you thought you've lost her forever.

Your biggest regret would've been that she never got to meet your child...

"If you want...my little entrepreneur could be your reason, too." You suggested, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, as though you've just forgiven her of all sins. "When we get to the Boss, we'll take them down, for their sake. All the work we do along the way? It'll be for them, too. We can both parent them. It might be hard with our job and all, but...we can make it work."

"...you'd...let me to be their mother?" Her voice breaks. "You trust me with such a sacred task? But before you said...you didn't...wh-what if I-?"

"Nothing bad will happen to them, my love. We got our coworkers here to look out for them." You brush away her tears, removing her hat so you could kiss the top of her head. And she cuddles back against you.

Seeing her react this way made you wonder if, maybe in a past life, she was a mother at some point...or perhaps, more tragically, she had a child and lost them during the war, and only Meanie was left to carry the burden.

It's no wonder she was falling apart in your arms at the prospect of helping you raise your kid. She didn't want the same tragedy to befall them.

"Don't think of it as an "assignment" or "task" I'm giving you. Something tells me you really, really wanna be in their life. So...do you?"

Before she could give you an answer, your kid comes over, oblivious at first. "Kane is funny. He wants to invite me to a party! Can I.......Miss Ena?" They look at your girlfriend in worry. "Are you..okay?"

She manages to compose herself and sniffles, before Salesperson takes the reigns again. "I'm..operating at a sufficient level." Her smile is gentle as she sits up, her eyes warm as she looks at them. "After much discussion, I am open to being your co-parental unit. Complete with a lifetime supply of love and protection protocols." She extends her clawed hand to them. "Starting today, you may address me as "mom", "mother"....whatever fits your budget."

Your kid takes her hand, but is quick to turn that handshake into a full embrace. "Sounds cool, mom. "

It felt extremely foreign to Ena, to receive physical contact from an entity besides you that's not violent in nature.

But this one is related to you. Made of your own flesh/blood/code/etc. So in a way...you were the one embracing her. And in that way, it made her feel comfortable enough to wrap her arms around them.

Something about this moment brought her peace, as though GØD finally decided to give her a break.

For once, everything was quiet...

Only for it to be disturbed by Kane's yelp of fear and the sound of a meteor crashing.

But right now, none of you were worried about it.

[muwapsturniolo]

FreshLove For The Fit 2 (rewrite) ˚.🎀༘⋆ C. Sturniolo

"But I do have a proposition for you."

⟢ nothing crazy tbh. mention of boners, nipple piercings and hate from fans.

divider cred @bernardsbendystraws

He fucked up, He fucked up bad.

It only took fans three days to notice his following had gone up on Instagram, the parasocial people looking through the list and trying to see who the new person is. It didn't take long for them to find the new account, immediately blasting it on all socials.

"Chris following a cam girl who wears Fresh Love? Oh, he's a freak!

"No because she's so smart! Let me put on some Fresh Love and get to work!"

Those were just a few of the things that were said in so many words. However, it seemed like on her end, all she was receiving was hate. He went through her comments on Instagram and Twitter; it was brutal, nasty, even a bit scary.

He began to feel bad; after all, this was his fault. He knew how some of his fans were; he knew how much they wanted to 'protect him'. He should have been more careful and avoided following her on Instagram.

He wants to DM her and profusely apologize for any harm he may have caused, but something was holding him back. So instead of messaging her and apologizing, he simply unfollowed her on the app, hoping that would calm everything down.

However, when he got a dm from her on his unrecognizable Twitter account, he knew things were taking a turn.

Your fans are getting a bit crazy in my comments and dm's. You need to tell them to leave me the fuck alone.

Chris's heart drops at the DM, his mouth running dry. There were multiple thoughts running through his head. How did she know this account was his? Would she expose him?

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath before responding, his hands shaky as he types out a message.

I feel like complete shit, i'm so sorry for all of this. Seriously. I should have been more careful with what I was doing.

lmao, i'm just playing with you. I really don't give af about what they are saying. They're just mad you jerked your shit to me, if anything i'm winning in life.

He exhales and closes his eyes reading that she wasn't actually upset with what was currently going on.

Fuck, you had me scared for a second. I've been freaking out about this shit all day. I'm glad you are handling this well though.

I can handle myself very well, thank you very much.

Chris bites his lip as his fingers hesitate over the keyboard, a war raging inside his mind as he debates sending his next response. Eventually he says fuck it, and sends it.

I like the way you handle yourself.

He waits anxiously for a response, worried that he may have overstepped a boundary.

So I take it you like my content then?

Love it actually, was it not obvious?

Chris knew this conversation was taking a turn, and he was curious yet excited to see how far it would go. He stands up from the couch and quickly makes his way to his bedroom, softly closing the door and locking it.

Tell me what you love about it then, I'm curious.

Chris flops down on to his bed, his dick sturring as he thinks about the content he has consumed from her, and what aspects of it he loved.

I think the most obvious thing would be you wearing my brand. That's what made me notice you. I also love the way you sound, the way you try to hold your moans in when you're close, only to let them out in a way that makes my head spin. Don't get me started on your thighs, I could spend all day between them if you let me.

Both adults were staring at their phones with heavy breaths, their hearts beating rapidly in their chests.

Before she could respond to him, Chris sent another message.

What would you say if I wanted you to call me?

I'd tell you to check my prices.

Chris immediately goes to her account, looking at her pinned post and analyzing the prices. He loads up his Cash App and sends her two hundred dollars, leaving a message saying "ft, wear freshlove" with his phone number attached.

A few minutes later, his phone begins to ring, his thumb quickly hitting the accept button.

It takes a second for both of their screens to load, but when it does, they both suck in a harsh breath.

They looked good.

Chris was wearing a pink hoodie that was making her clench her thighs. It was her favorite color, and she loved seeing it on men. His eyes were low as he remained tired, a toothpick in his mouth, and a silver chain adorning his neck.

She was, in fact, wearing Fresh Love, her pink shirt to be exact. He could tell it was a size too small by the way it hugged her chest, her nipples adorned by piercings peeking through the material.

"Hi," she says softly, her soft voice shocking Chris. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he wasn't expecting his dick to jump at the sound of her voice.

"Hey," Chris responds, his eyes darting all over her body. She smirks softly and lies down on her stomach, kicking her feet up as she begins to speak once again.

"So what did you want to call me for?" Chris finds himself suddenly being shy. How was he supposed to tell her he wanted to call her in hopes she would grab her pink dildo and get off for him and with him? It was so easy to be bold behind a screen, but now that he's technically face to face with her, it's different.

"I don't know..."

"Mmm, I think you do know, you're just too scared to admit it." she taunts, a smirk on her face as she teasingly tilts her head.

Chris doesn't like it.

"I'm not scared to admit anything. I just figured you wouldn't appreciate me demanding you grab that sparkly pink dildo and fuck yourself for me. I was raised to be a gentleman after all." His cocky demanor comes back full throttle, a smirk on his face as he takes the toothpick from his mouth. Despite her brown skin, he could tell she was blushing, the way her eyes looked away from the screen and she bit her lip was a dead giveaway.

"Don't act all shy, you post yourself doing the same things I would be requesting....but I'm not going to have you do that. Not yet at least. I want to get to know you first."

He could see the surprise in her eyes. He figured this was something new to her. She was a cam girl, an OnlyFans girl, she was used to men and possibly women using her, demanding things from her, degrading her.

Chris wasn't really that different; he wanted the same things and was objectifying her the same way as others, but there was something about her that was pulling him in and had him wanting this to be something more than transactional.

The call continues with both chatter and laughter, the two adults getting to know each other better for hours on end. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, jokes being dropped and stories being told.

Suddenly, she decides to ask a question that's been bothering her since the start of the call.

"So why did you send me two hundred when my FaceTime price is only one hundred and thirty?"

"Because I wanted to."

His quick and nonchalant response was surprising and confusing to the girl. She squints as she looks at him through the screen, "But you didn't have to, especially if we didn't even do anything sexual." A devious smirk makes its way across Chris's face.

"Well, I did request that you wear Fresh Love, I think that deserved an extra few dollars....But I do have a proposition for you."

[vera-vera-vera-lynn]

Need to rant because this post ignited something beastly inside me :P

|| ๋࣭⭑

As a philosophy major, seeing that ad actually drove me fucking nuts, because I know a lot of people in my school's humanities department (as well as some in the Philosophy course itself) would actually use it.

In my city Philosophy is already considered something of a dying humanities major as it doesn't hold as much attractive options as, say, Communications, Psychology, or Political Science—so barely anyone even takes it seriously anymore. In fact, my university came so goddamn close to shutting down the Philo course entirely.

Our department's barely holding it together, and seeing other humanities majors actively thriving despite taking advantage of something like this is such a huge slap to the face.

We have maybe 15–20 students left in the entire programme, and most of them didn't even choose Philo out of genuine interest—they either just got redirected here, or decided on it as a last-minute resort. It's become such a fucking joke what with how people began seeing it as a dumping ground for has-beens and do-no-betters. It's treated as the goddamn lobby for rejects and undecideds; or worse yet, some will stay for a month to a year, only to dip out at the end when they realise how unaligned they actually are with the course. Bitch; if you wanted an easy way out, why are you here?

There's only one constant professor teaching every subject across every year level. And I say the word constant loosely—because while he technically holds the position, he's also our adviser, a.k.a. our last line of defense anytime the department's on the chopping block. The catch? He's part-time. That man is barely hanging on himself, with multiple teaching gigs at other universities; which means we only get scraps of his time, and even then, he's already usually burnt out. He's not just underpaid. The man's old, overextended, and chronically tired. The worst part? He's good. He's actually a damn good philosopher and an even better teacher. If we lose him, it's fucking over. An algorithm isn't going to help you or your professor. You're silencing the very people who've helped you develop your critical thinking skills.

The people here tend to have this preconceived notion that Philosophy is something of a 'high-brow art'—hence the lack of engagement. This is utter bullshit, by the way, because that's just double-edged classism. The whole point of it is critical access to thought—not intellectual gatekeeping. Call me petty and salty for this but this is one of the reasons why I hate it when bitches say shit like 'I'm too small-brained for this'—like, no. You're not. The fact that you're even recognising your own limitations is already a huge move in itself. You just need to put in the goddamn effort.

There's zero funding for conferences or outreach unless we tie ourselves to other, more 'useful' disciplines (our dean does what she can, but God, it's nowhere near enough; and I know damn well what our department is capable of given how much favouritism Psych and PolSci gets).

As the VP of our org, it's humiliating to have to cosplay as other departments just to get a foot in the door. And the worst part is: admin eats this shit up. They love to say things like relevance and fucking real-world application while simultaneously gutting any space we might’ve had to show how philosophy is deeply relevant, precisely because it questions the frameworks everyone else takes for granted.

Don't even get me started on AI. Half the 'cutting-edge' discourse around machine ethics, bias, decision-making, sentience, consciousness, language—all of it—is stolen straight out of philosophy. Hell, some of these LLMs are trained on archives of our papers and books. But none of y'all are hiring philosophers. No one's inviting us to panels unless we're there to play the silly widdle ethics people and make everything sound profound for five minutes before the principal takes back the mic. We're useful enough to train the machine. We're relevant enough to pad your datasets. But God motherfucking forbid you actually pay a specialist to teach or contextualise those ideas.

I felt worse rereading all the points I made considering my dad just piped in and essentially confirmed what I already knew. The bastard saw me typing and fucking laughed, saying it's just not profitable anymore. At one point in history Philosophy was regarded as the greatest of all sciences. Then religion commodified it, and soon after that technology virtually killed it. Who needs it when the people most rewarded for thinking are the ones who do it loudest, fastest, and with just enough fake nuance to sound profound in under sixty seconds?

Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, fuck AI.

I've been begging my professor to change our output formats for these very reasons. I told him to give all of these fucking essays a break because theoretical knowledge isn't going to solve everything. Nobody gives a shit about deep dive papers on Kant when they can't even pay their rent, much less have the energy for critical theory after working a shift at some minimum-wage job.

I suppose the biggest issue about Philosophy is that it isn't as 'practical' as other subjects are. The main problem with its presence in the modern world is that it's mostly just those writing about things that won't pay the bills, won't solve the climate crisis, and sure as hell won't put food on the table. We're not necessarily equipping ourselves to survive in the world as it is right now.

But neither are we reaching anyone like this, nor are we making any true progress no matter how wonderfully the concept of AI services is presented. We are actually losing relevance in real time. We're sitting on centuries of intellectual legacy and presenting it like goddamn expired toast. Philosophy was revered for its ability to interrogate meaning and question the frameworks that govern society. And now philosophers are being asked to hand its intellectual power over to algorithms and systems that don't even feel.

People forget that that's the real kicker: companies want philosophy specialists to 'work with' AI, but what in the giggling goddamn fuck does that even mean?

Some of y'all say we're supposed to fix AI with the same academia we've spent years honing. But instead of doing the deep, reflective work philosophy was built on, we're now just handing over centuries of intellectual labour, programming our thoughts into a machine, and hoping this utter parasite of a system works. Yes, artificial intelligence may have its benefits—but that doesn't take away the fact that you're letting automatons belittle all the history and all the hard work that built the foundations of human understanding.

Stop pretending like AI can actually solve problems. They don't. They can't. They can get as humanlike as they can, they can mimic our speech and our processes to sharper degrees, but at the end of the day they're soulless machines. They don't have the same capabilities you or I do. Stop it. Just stop.

this ad wants to hire philosophy specialists to train their AI.

in philosophy.

they want to train the machine that can't think on the subject that's literally thinking about thinking.

someone smarter than me write in the comments how the classical philosophers are freaking out in the afterlife

(diogenes brandishing a texting autocomplete feature: Behold, a man!)

[vieviesmt]

MDNI :p

CW : sub!caleb, masturbation, panty thief, dryhumping, (he cums first sorry), praise, DESPERATE DESPERATE man, loads of drooling deal w it

pervert!caleb who somehow managed to convince you to move in with him because he's been feeling oh so lonely and tired :( he needs your presence, your warmth and your attention to stay sane!! you have to believe him !!

pervert!caleb who definitely didnt make you move in so that he could spend his time watching you, subtly press against you while youre cooking, passing by your room at night to gently pat your head and smell your hair, maybe even steal a couple of your polaroids on the wall to put in his wallet !! (or use for later)

pervert!caleb who tells you its okay if you dont have time to do the laundry today! he can take care of it like he always has :) he definitely does not use the opportunity to shove his face into every crevice of your shirts, nose pressed into the crotch of your used hunter pants; when his eyes shift to a well hidden piece of bright red lacey fabric under one of your socks...jackpot.

pervert!caleb who doesnt even try to walk to his room to take care of business, no it has to be here between all your dirty clothes, your smell emanating from every corner of the laundry room while he hastily pushes his shorts down, poor baby's cock is bright red, already leaking just from the smell of you :(

pervert!caleb who grabs those red panties and wraps them around his shaft, using his strong muscled hand to jerk himself fast enough in hopes you wouldnt catch him!! you would probably think hes such a weirdo, using your dirty clothes and panting like a desperate dog but he just cant help himself around you, just the thought of your cute self sitting in the other room happily munching on some snacks while he's in here filthying up your belongings makes him break : strong hips thrust up and buck trying to finally get that sweet release-

pervert!caleb who, in his haste to get some alone perverted time had forgotten to lock the door :0 of course, after not hearing any noise for the past 15 mins you got worried! you didn't mean to walk in on him disheveled, hips in the air, sweat down his arms and drool down his shirt with your favourite underwear (now ripped at the crotch) wrapped around his sensitive head :(

pervert!caleb who's pleasantly surprised when you tug him up by his arm, he start rambling out excuses- "pips! i-im so sorry! i swear i dont even know what happened, i dont think straight when im tired you know me-" only to be slammed into the couch , "take your shirt off."

pervert!caleb is now sweatily sat on the couch, his boxers back on, trembling from overstimulation as you grind your ass back onto his crotch as harsh as you can, feeling his hardness drool out masses of precum, his thighs shakey and his hands barely holding onto your hips - "please, please can i- can i take them off pips i wanna feel you now-" his hands tug at your jeans, as good as the friction of your tight pants feel on him, he cant stop himself from thinking about how warm your cunt is underneath your clothes rn :( plus he wants you to feel good too!!

pervert!caleb cant take it anymore after you answer him with a harsh slap to the inside of his thigh, "quit talking, be grateful i even let you dirty these pants too, and you ripped my panties, those were my favourite you know ;("

pervert!caleb who can barely focus on what youre saying, he feels his balls squeezing, the feeling of your behind back and forth has him spiraling, babbling about how much he loves you and how you treat him so so well!! one specific hard swivel of your hips around his tip is what undoes him fully, head slamming back onto the wall, his hands grab your hips tightly to keep you in place as he keeps thrusting up up up, using you to get off. He's grunting loudly, muttering half sentences of "thank you- i love you- so sensitive- i cant stop- please-"

pervert!caleb who dirtied both you and himself now ! what a troublesome puppy >:( no worries you'll make him clean you up really quick once his legs stop pushing his hips into yours, unable to stop.

ive been thinking about this one for a whileeee so pls lmk how it is !!

[kikidoul]

── BEACH WEATHER.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ 박종성 x fem! reader content strangers to lust trope ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content usage of petnames open ending used jay being a green flag protected sex fingering pussy eating aftercare both reader and jay have experience lmk if i didn't tagged anything else. . .!? 2420— mlist. req

note. second time writing jay and i think i did a decent job writing for him! also would like to share that i kinda cringed when i was writing him and reader's interaction. i hope this meets your expectations hehe. can i count this as a happy belated birthday to jay though... taglist. @tfwbluu @hoonstqr @riqomi

This is a horrible idea. 

You sighed for the unknown time after rejecting a stranger’s offer of him buying you a drink. You knew the implication behind his seemingly innocent, friendly offer and you didn’t want to take the chance. You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a scowl on your face as you scanned the sea of people before you. But it was futile. You couldn’t find your friends, the very same group of friends who promised they will stick with you and won’t leave you alone. 

You were at a beach party, having decided to go on a much-needed vacation to the beach with your friends to celebrate the start of your holidays. When you were told there will be a party happening at night, your friends begged for you to join them. At first, you declined because you weren’t a party person and you wanted to spend your night under the sheets to read your favorite book. But your friends were persistent, which brings you to your current dilemma.

Unlike a regular nightclub, the beach party is open-air with loud, edm music playing in the background. Thankfully, there was a bar that allows you to sit back, have a drink while you enjoy the fresh air. Well, that was the plan until three guys approached you, back to back with the intention of doing something more than just having a drink. 

“Hello, you look annoyed.” 

Ugh great. 

Rolling your eyes, you prepared yourself as you looked to your side, only to pause when a handsome man appeared before you. He has honey-toned skin, messy pitch-black hair from the wind blowing past and a sharp jawline that you might cut your finger with a simple graze and his features were something crafted from the hands of Gods and Goddesses. To put it simply; he was really attractive, enough to make you feel flustered when you realised you had piqued his interest. 

“Was that a question or an observation?” You asked, maintaining your politeness while keeping your guard up. 

The stranger chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he stood beside you while keeping some distance. The small, kind and thoughtful act made your heart skip a beat. “That was an observation. I’ve been looking at you for a while now and I have to say, you’re really beautiful. I don’t think words are enough to do you justice.”

You could only pray that he won’t notice your reddened ears and cheeks at his honesty and sincerity. “Why thank you. You sure have a way with words, don’t you? Do you talk like this to other women too? Or is it just me?” 

You weren’t sure where you got the confidence, but you were pleased with his reaction: eyes widening slightly at your response before he composed himself, eyes gleaming in mischief and amusement. 

He leaned in slightly, a movement so small but you caught it anyways, a sly and suggestive grin stretching across his face. “What if I were to say it’s just you? Would you accept my offer?”

You decide to play along and copy his expression. “And what would your offer be?” 

“How about you and I get a drink later? My treat.” 

You arched an eyebrow, impressed with his bold move. Both of you knew there won’t be any drinking done, considering how he was undressing you with his lust-filled eyes. 

“Sure, that sounds lovely.”

~

As expected, you found yourself in his room. Clothes were hurriedly removed and tossed to the carpeted floor without a care in the world. Unlike the previous hook-ups you have done, he was gentle. The way he treated you was as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment, if he wasn’t careful enough. You could tell he has plenty of experience with how he ate you out. 

“F-Fuck, don’t stop, please,” you whined, eyelids fluttering shut as he plunged his tongue deeper and at the same time, pushing two fingers in until he was knuckles-deep. 

He groaned at how tight you felt, your velvety, gummy walls clinging onto his fingers without any intention of letting him go. He crooked his fingers, grinning at how you physically flinched and he knew he had hit bullseye. He audibly moaned against your pussy when you grabbed a fistful of his hair, your thighs locking him in place. He didn’t care if you were choking him to death. If this was how he goes out, he wouldn’t mind it at all. 

He alternated between giving sweet, quick kitten licks and harsh, long swipes of his tongue, giving you whiplash. To Jay, your sounds are the sweetest sounds he has heard, like music to his ears and he wants to hear more. He wants to see you falling apart under him. He wants you to remember him when you do this with someone else, someone else that isn’t him. 

He lets you grind yourself on his nose, causing you to gasp when you find the perfect angle. Your back arched off the bed when you felt your orgasm coming. You tried to say something, anything but your mind turned to mush when he gave a harsh suck to the sensitive bud peeking out. And that was enough to tip you over the edge. You tried to pull him away but it was futile. His strength easily overwhelmed yours and it’s like he wants to be buried deep in your pussy.

You let out a high-pitched cry as he greedily slurps away, like he was a famished kitten drinking from a plate of warm milk. Your limbs felt boneless the moment it was over, your thighs slumping on his shoulders and your grip loosened on his hair. Jay finally moved away and seeing how his face was drenched in your slick, his lips glistening under the lights and some had even landed on his forehead made your cheeks flushed red. 

Jay wiped them away with the back of his hand, tongue darting out—the very same tongue that made you feel like you were floating, to clean his damp lips. Your throat felt dry, nervously swallowing as your hands laid by your sides. He shifted backwards so he could get off the bed but you stopped by, grabbing his wrist and he gave you a questioning look.

“Wait, what about you?” You asked, eyes glancing down to the bulge in his pants.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You light-heartedly rolled your eyes. “I’m fine with you fucking me, but with a condom of course.” 

“Oh.” 

You laughed at how he stared at you, taken aback with your consent and words. You motioned for him to come over with two fingers, a coy grin on your face as you spread your legs, snickering at how his eyes trailed down, lingering in the spot between your legs. “What’re you waiting for, pretty boy? Get to it or I’ll leave.” 

He didn’t need to think twice, fumbling through the bedside drawer and pulling out a small box of condoms. The sight made you raise an eyebrow. 

“Do you always bring that with you?” You questioned, pushing yourself further up on the bed and repositioned the pillow as you laid your head on it, along with sliding another pillow underneath your hips for support. 

“Uh, my friends bought it as a birthday gift to me. It’s stupid—I mean, they’re stupid,” he stuttered, hands managing to tear the transparent packaging. He got to his knees and that was when you saw it. 

Your mouth moved before your mind could process the words. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.” 

He paused in the midst of sliding the condom over his hardened, standing upright cock that stood proudly as it rested against his stomach. “I’ll make sure it fits, princess. Just lay back and look pretty, can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, feeling shy at the sudden usage of the pet name. You watched as he moved with confidence, like he knows what he’s doing. He positioned himself in between your legs, gently gripping onto your upper left thigh and aligned himself with your entrance. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his tip gliding against your still puffy folds, gathering the remaining slick. His eyes softened at the sight of your hesitation, rubbing circles on your skin. 

“Hey, it’s fine. Just calm down and relax for me,” he assures you. “I won’t put it in until you allow me to. I’ll wait for you, princess.” 

Biting down onto your lip, you nodded, nails digging into the soft sheets beneath you. “...Go ahead.” 

Instead of slamming in in one go, he slowly pushes in inch by inch. It felt like decades when he finally bottomed out, eliciting pleased sounds from both of you. Your head spins at how full you feel just from his cock alone. He didn’t move, eyes focused on your face while searching for any signs of discomfort. He was patient and that was something rare in the hook-ups you have done. 

“You can move,” you gave him the greenlight and he hummed, adjusting himself. 

The slight movement caused his cock to rub against your walls, drawing a blissed-out sigh from you. He pulled out until his tip was still inside before pushing back in and repeated the movement, keeping a steady pace but it was enough to draw soft “ah-ah-ah” from you. You tilted your head back, raising your left leg and he got the hint—slinging it over his left shoulder. The small change of angle allows him to slide and hit deeper. He was practically kissing your cervix, with how deep he could go. 

Lewd sounds of skin against skin combined with your moans and his groans echoed amongst the four walls of the hotel room. You were sure whoever walked past would know what you’re doing. The thought of the chances of people hearing you made you clenched down on his cock, drawing a hiss from him. 

“Fuck, you sure you’ve done this before? You’re so tight like a virgin,” he gasped, voice hoarse. He already sounds ragged, his previous calm and collected composure slowly fading away. 

“Ngh, m-more,” you whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock hit the spot that made your legs spasm. 

“Yeah? You want more? Your greedy pussy is not satisfied with what I’m giving?” He sneers, the sudden change of his personality leaves you speechless. 

But you were too far gone to think straight, getting drunk on the intoxicating, addictive and heavenly feeling of him thrusting into you. You could only let out a whimper, the sound making him smirked. He readjusted his hands, moving from your thighs to your hips and with new found strength, he increased his pace, fucking into you without mercy. 

“Oh god, s-so good, hah,” you cried out, words borderline slurring as you succumbed to it. 

You knew you were reaching your climax when your muscles tightened, like a rubber band stretched to its limit and how your legs were already shaking. All it took was one final sharp thrust and you came with a cry. He, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down and continued snapping his hips against yours as he fucks you through your orgasm. All you could do was to lay there, allowing him to use you to reach his climax. 

You shuddered when he spilled into the condom, able to feel the warmth of his cum through the thin fabric of the condom. He slowly pulled out, making you wince at the sudden uncomfortable feeling of emptiness, quickly tying the condom and tossed it into the bin with terrifying accuracy. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling back some of the strands that were stuck onto his forehead. 

“Wait here, I’ll be back,” he said, not waiting for your response before going to the bathroom. His words made you snort, as you couldn’t move an inch, not after what he did. 

He returned a few seconds later, holding a damp towel and took his care in wiping you clean. When he was done, he passed you a plastic bottle of water, even going the extra mile by helping you in drinking it by supporting the back of your neck, like how a mother would do to her newborn baby. He then removed the stained sheets, tossing them to the floor, which will be a problem for the housekeeper tomorrow. Once you were properly hydrated, he moved to where his luggage was, dug through his clothes and handed you a set of his own. 

“Uh, I’m not sure if you’d prefer wearing your own clothes or if you don’t mind, you could wear mine for the night. No pressure or anything,” he said, looking everywhere else but you. 

“Sure, I don’t mind,” you shrugged your shoulders, accepting the clothes and putting them on after slipping back into your underwear, looking down to see his shirt reaching your thighs. Still, you wore the shorts, which acted more like pants for you. 

“You can stay here for the night if you want,” he said, eyes searching your face, afraid he might be taking it too far. 

Your eyes softened as you nodded in silence and his shoulders sagged with relief. He quickly wore his clothes and the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the bed, pulling the covers up until it reached your chins. It didn’t took you long to fall asleep, sharing the bed with someone who you had just fucked. 

The very next morning, you woke up to an empty room. His luggage was gone too. You looked to your side, surprised to see that your clothes were neatly folded and placed on the bed. But what caught your attention was a note placed on the bedside drawer. Reaching over, you opened it and read the handwritten message. 

Hey, 

I realised that I didn’t get your name and that’s very rude of me. Sorry that I didn’t wake you up as I had to leave for the airport. But if you’d like, perhaps we can get to know one another more? You can text me if you want. I’ve left my number below. Oh and, you can keep my clothes. They look better on you ;)

Regards,  Park Jongseong (Jay) xx-xxxx-xxxx

[vivlily]

can you please explain who these horses are????

You made a mistake in asking me, but I will try anyway. This will go over some general things and mainly focus on white and cyan, not so much the other horses.

They are characters from a Twitter webseries/game(?) hosted by @/snakesandrews. Where viewers essentially vote on whatever horse they think might win. These horses bounce around randomly off of objects like a screensaver of sorts, and a horse wins once it touches a png of a carrot.

These horses are typically referred to by their color until they win and are thus given a name, for instance, orange, eventually becoming jovial merryment.

How much or how little these horses win as well as what goes on during a race end up leading to a lot of fan made content. And for the most part, any characterization of these horses is largely up to fan interpretation.

For these two horses, white and cyan specifically? White and cyan and brown would go on to not win one match for quite some time, leading to them being put into a race all on their own. Which brown would eventually go on to win and attain the name Door Knob. Leaving white and cyan in their own little race. With a special little map, file this special little map for later.

It is important to note that these races do not usually last much longer than around 2 or 2 and a half minutes. Cyan and White would go on to race for a whole 7 minutes and 9 seconds. This led to a lot of fans depicting them as sort've not wanting to win, usually because of enjoying one another's company or something similar. I'm a yuri minded individual, so you can probably guess how I decided to interpret it.

As you probably realized, since they had a defined time for the race, a winner also exists. This is where White had won, earning the name Superstitional Realism. This led to a lot of fans depicting Cyan as either feeling betrayed or upset by white winning. Some also show Cyan being happy for white.

It here that white, now superstitional realism(I will refer to her as Sup from now on), would join the next days' race and proceed to not win. And in the next day's race, white would be mysteriously missing. It is in this race that Sup is missing that something unusual happens once the race is over.

Cyan has lost every single race, every single one. This race where Sup is missing is followed by a video in which Cyan was racing all alone in an empy room with only herself, eventually obtaining her first win. But did such a win even count? There was no one for Cyan to even race against after all. It was assumed Cyan would get a name for her victory, but the fanfare screen would simply continue listing her name as Cyan.

People expected that Cyan would finally join the next race proper, only for the next race to be a race between what looked to be 7 distorted horses (6 a form of cyan, and 1 white). Despite there being 6 cyans, they still lost to the distorted white horse, whose fanfare screen read "a Mysterious figure." Leading many to think this might be cyan reliving her worst moments, and more specifically, the moment where she get left behind by white.

The latest race as of this post was with the regular set of horses interspliced with the 6 distorted cyans having a race of their own. It's unknown if this "nightmare" world is real or in cyans head. But one of the 6 distorted cyans does win and is rewarded with the name of Garbage Bin. We then cut back to the "normal" world where Sup remains missing and jovial merryment wins the race(go figure).

Now, do you remember that special little map where cyan and white initially raced in? The "normal" world race was taking place on the very same map, just with more color and rounder edges. This leads to me and probably a few others believing that that last race was the other horses looking for cyan.

My assumption for why Sup has been missing for the last few races is because white had already gone back to look for cyan ahead of everyone else.

As for how the story might end? Well, you can find out both today and Friday as the series seems to be having it's last to races.

Will jovial win once more? It's possible. It's annoyingly possible. And will cyan and sup have a happy ending? I SURE HOPE SO. SAVE YOUR GIRL.

Whadya mean I'm getting emotional over screensaver pngs?!?

Apologies if this was long winded, I'm not used to typing this much and suck at using words. BUT you made the mistake of asking me, dear Anon. Always remember there is always yuri for those with eyes to see. Now go consume some fan content, there's a lot of really good writers and artists out there, show them some love.

[nakylvr]

— DARKNESS TENFOLD

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary: some things aren't always as they seem in the dark nights of the south. you know that. but when a mysterious woman shows up in your bar, you fail to notice those signs and stories your relatives told you time and time again.

warnings/tags: angst, mild language, period piece in the south, vampire!sophia, bartender!reader, suggestive content

now playing: sinners official playlist

yes i just watched sinners. maybe there will be a part 2 lemme know if i should 😋

there wasn't a whole lot that went down in the small town you lived in of mississippi. now, working at the local bar did give you some stories. like drunkards you had to kick out or break up fights when it got out of hand. but nothing too out of the ordinary.

being one of the bartenders at the pub, you often talked to the customers. and you enjoyed it. some would tell you old stories from when they were kids, some told you ancient stories claimed to be "voodoo" by your relatives, and some did try to have their way with you. but you handled those ones fast. it wasn't difficult once word got around that you stabbed a fork in one of their hands when they tried to grab a feel of you.

you liked your little life. you enjoyed it. you didn't see the need to find anyone for you, you weren't that type of person to be grounded by just one individual. but your mother loved to always say "someone could change that!". you have yet to find said person.

it was another night in the bar for you. music playing in the background as you wiped down the counter from the last customer when you heard the door open. "good evening!" you say loud enough for the customer to hear before looking up.

when you look at who walked through the doors, you're immediately entranced. a beautiful woman with jet black hair in a matching black dress, and a walk so delicate but so sure of herself and where she was going. you'd never seen this woman in your life, you're sure of that. you would've remembered someone like this. the woman sits in front of you and pushes her hair out of her face.

"what'll it be?" you ask her with a polite smile. "we got whiskey, irish beer, italian wine, or water, if you prefer that."

"i'll have your best wine," she answers swiftly, like she knew her answer as soon as you said it. "whatever you think is the best."

you let out a shy laugh. "well, i wouldn't trust my judgment, miss. i'm not much of a drinker," you reply.

"i trust your judgment, darling," she responds.

her accent tells you she's not from here. you know that much. maybe she's from up north. but the way she says it has you feeling like she's been here a while. the subtle twang she says it in. almost as if she was trying to mimic the others around town and how they talk.

"okay." you nod. turning around you grab your favorite wine, the only kind you drink cause you hate the taste of all the others, and a glass. you set the glass down in front of the woman and pour the crimson red liquid into the glass. you swear you notice a flicker of something in the woman's eyes, but you don't think much of it. "that'll be three dollars, miss."

the woman hums and nods, pulling out five dollar bills and sliding them over to you. "thank you, darling," she says, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. "mm, this is great." she then sets the glass down on the counter. "tell me, is there anything to do around here?"

you're a bit surprised by her question, but it just confirms your theories that she isn't from here. "well, not much if you want me to be honest," you answer while putting the bottle back. "i heard some brothers are back in town and are fixing up that old mill a bit outside of here to make it a juke joint. that'll be the best thing in this town in years." you pause, taking a look at the woman. "you're not from here, are you?"

"not exactly," she responds, circling her finger around the glass. "i'm from chicago, originally."

"ah." you nod. "the big city. are the rumors true? that you can really do anything up there?"

"indeed," she answers with a nod. "it's beautiful up there. but, i've always wanted to see the south."

"you travel a lot, then?" you ask.

"something like that." she smiles, taking another sip of her drink.

"work? or cause you want to?" you couldn't help but ask more questions, and you weren't sure why. there was something so enthralling about the woman sitting in front of you, something that pulled you in, wanted you to know more.

"both," she replies. "what's your name, dear?"

"hm?" you hum, taking a moment to process the words. "oh, it's yn."

"very pretty name," she says, taking another sip. "when do you usually get out of here?"

"it depends." you shrug. "most of the time a little after midnight. i don't like staying past midnight."

"why?" the woman tilts her head to the side.

"oh nothing." you wave your hand like it was nothing. "it's just around here the old folk love telling stories about these demons and ghosts and whatnot."

"do you believe any of them?" she asks.

you're breath hitches in your throat when she looks at you. her eyes seem almost foggy, a grey hue clouding over them that you manage to see in the light above you. and then it's gone in a second, like you didn't see it at all. you probably didn't.

"no." you shake your head. but you did. you knew the stories of demons who preyed the night and couldn't stand in the sun. that their souls would remain trapped in their bodies for decades, centuries even until they were killed. how they could seduce and trick you like it was nothing.

"that's good," she hums, finishing her glass. "could i have another?"

"of course," you say a little too fast, swiftly grabbing the glass and turning to grab the bottle. when you turn back, she has a warm smile on her face. you pour another glass and slide it over to her.

"so, you married?" the woman suddenly asks, surprising you.

"sorry?" you let out.

"my apologies," she waves her hand. "it's just, i'd be shocked if you were without a husband. you're quite beautiful."

your cheeks heat up at her words. "well...thank you, miss. but no, i'm happily unmarried."

"happily?" she cocks her head to the side.

"yes." you nod. "i've come to realize that i don't need a man to take care of me. i can take care of myself. those brothers fixing up the mill can assure you that."

"oh, really?" she smirks, but there's no condescending tone in her words.

"indeed." you nod again. "those boys are practically my own blood if they didn't come from a different daddy. if you see one of 'em, steer clear."

"and why is that?" she questions.

"they don't like people who ain't from here. and they especially don't like when they flirt with me," you answer.

a smile curls on the woman's lips. "you believe i'm flirting?"

you shrug your shoulders, leaning forward over the counter. "i dunno. a lot of folk like trying their hardest with me. i ain't surprised cause you're a lady, miss."

"really? and has any of them figured it out?" she says, still smiling.

"not a single one." you shake your head, a smile making its way onto your lips.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"fuck,"

you let out the second sophia puts her knee in between your thighs, leaning your head back against the wall. her lips travel against your jawline, leaving wet kisses in her trace trailing down to your neck. her hands have your dress bunched up your legs, grabbing your hips tight enough to leave marks even through the clothing's material. her teeth nip at your neck gently, making a small gasp come from you before she starts sucking on the skin to leave a dark bruise. "god..." you sigh out.

hearing this, sophia pulls away from your neck and stares into your eyes. "god?" she says quietly. "oh darling...there is no god."

opening your eyes, you let out a gasp when you see her eyes, and her hand instantly clamps over your mouth to keep you from screaming with her other holding you in place against the wall. those red eyes, the exact ones you were told about. the ones that belonged to the demons of the night. they were staring right at you. you weren't sure if you were breathing at this point, fear completely overpowering your body keeping you in place.

"you listen very closely my dear," sophia starts, her voice low. "i came here to find the one with the guitar. if you cooperate with me and the others, then we'll spare your little town. what do you have to do? bring her to me, and nothing will happen to anyone. understand?"

you quickly nod your head, and she slowly removes her hand from your mouth. "are you going to kill me?" you whisper.

"no." she shakes her head. "but you're going to be one of us now."

before you can even process the words, she's grabbing your nape and biting you in the neck. a sharp gasp leaves your mouth as you feel the pain immediately upon her fangs digging into your throat. your hands grasp at her, trying to push her off of you but your body is getting weaker by the second, your heartbeat is slowing, your head feels heavy, your vision is growing dark.

this is it. this is how you die. in the arms of a demon of the night that you stupidly thought nothing of. you know it. your eyes flutter shut, and you barely feel your body drop to the ground.

"don't worry dear, everything will be fine."

[clouji]

Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.

+ hamzah x reader, smoking weed, drinking, making out, fwb

💟

“Y/N why is this couch shaped like a L but feels like a circle?”Martin laughs as he sits across two pillows, a beer in one hand and his socks half-off.

Hamzah breathes from the opposite end, a vape pen attached to his fingertips. “That's how you know it's a good living room. Everyone ends up touching their knees, no matter they like it or not.”

You laughed, sitting crossed legs on the floor, back against the couch, sipping just juice with a splash of vodka. Claire texting between sips of her drink. Mandy is next to her, wrapped up with Martin like a cat.

And of course, Chase is in the kitchen arguing with the air fryer.

“I'm still laughing about what Hamzah and I did few days ago,” Martin says, chuckling.

Mandy answers. “What happened?.”

Hamzah just grins, eyes low. He already knows where this is going.

Martin jabs a finger toward him. “All I gotta say is, Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.”

Everyone laughs.

Even Claire drops her phone. “I knew something happened!”

“Bro you're making it sound weird,” Hamzah says, without even denying it.

“It's not my fault people like Martin can't handle my aura.”

You keep your face blank. Sips your drink.

You shouldn't be thinking on what happened that night. Or every other night. Or the times it didn’t even need weed. Just one look, a single touch of his hand when no one was looking.

Martin’s still talking. Something about how he ended up in just his boxers watching Love Island with Mandy at 2am. Everyone’s laughing.

Except you.

And Hamzah.

You saw him staring at you. Quick and subtle.

You already know.

⏭️

Everyone's about to leave. Claire and Mandy saying their goodbyes to the cats. Martin drags Chase out of the kitchen, still mid-rant about his overcooked fries. Hamzah stayed like he's just the helpful friend staying to clean up.

Which he is...... kind of.

Hamzah throws a pillow back onto the couch and kicks his feet up as if the party had never stopped.

“Wanna see something crazy?” he says.

You raise a brow. “If that's some stupid shit Hamzah, You're leaving.”

He smiled, reaching something on his pocket and pulling out a half-used joint in a crusty Altoids tin. "Look what Martin and I didn't finish."

You laugh. “So you just have it with you the whole time and didn't say anything?.”

“I want to smoke with you,” he says, “Let's finish it.”

You roll your eyes, but take a hit when he hands it to you. The smoke is nice and warm, quickly taking into your body. He's already leaning back and exhaling like if it's some kind of spiritual experience.

“You really stripped that man on 4/20?” you ask, laughing.

Hamzah chuckles. “He said he was hot. I said prove it."

“Dumbass.”

He smiles at you, lazy. “You scared I’ll try it on you?”

You start to cough a little. "I am not scared. You'd have to earn it."

“Oh word?” he says, puts down the joint into a nearby cup.

And then he moves closer.

Not too much. Just enough for his legs to press against yours. One hand casually holds over your shoulder, fingers brushing your collarbone like it’s an accident. It’s not.

“Prove it,” you say.

He leans in slowly, as if everything is still a joke. But when his lips meet yours warm and slow—it feels like a stab to your chest.

The kiss starts soft.

It doesn't stay that way.

Your legs twitch. His hand slips gently to your waist. You pull off his hoodie, and he smiles gently against your mouth.

“Still not scared?” he murmurs, lips brushing your mandible.

“Shut up,” you responded back, grabbing him again.

His hoodie slips off. Yours comes next. Nothing special. You already know how this works. He throws your shirt off. The tips of his fingers trace the border of your waistband

The smoke still swirls in the air. Everything still smells like weed, perfume, and snacks.

His mouth meets yours again. Impatient. A bit familiar.

This is how it has always been–hot, hungry, and temporary.

Nobody knows about this.

And that is the fun of it.

💟

[alchemicaladarna]

I think part of the reason why I love HolyWater duo so much is because the level of care and compassion that tr!water has for tr!bad is so unfamiliar that it's sad but also really refreshing and cathartic. Now, I'm not saying that other people's hostility towards him isn't justified, because their villainous perception of him is valid to some degree, considering that he did terrorize a lot of people. I'm also not saying that before tr!water, he hasn't experienced kindness from other people on The Realm, because he had tr!pangi, tr!mocha, and tr!ros to some degree. He also still has tr!Lukey as his day old doughnut hamster self as far as tr!bad knows. And, despite everyone's perception of him lately, tr!Aimsey has also been regularly checking up on him and making sure he's fine even though he tries to hide his true feelings and push them away as well.

!Bad has so many issues and walls that he put up around himself for millennia- the only time he was more vulnerable being on Quesadilla Island when he was taking care of the eggs. And yet, from day 1, tr!water has figured him out instantly through simple patience and careful observance. She now knows many aspects about himself that people have spent months trying and failing to figure out. Tr!water is slowly breaking down tr!Bad's walls, but she does so without force and without judgement because she can relate to him to some degree.

Tr!bad gives her armor, tools, weapons, and gifts that will help her survive- like he usually does with anyone who asks- but then she also doesn't want to burden him further by asking him for more resources. Tr!water first saw him as someone who could help her level up and gain power in this realm, but as she spent more time with him, she began to see him as more than a resource, a monster, or a means to an end. She perceives him as his own person and a genuine friend. I think tr!Bad also cares for her more than he is willing to admit, if the super op armor and his reaction to her potentially dying because she wasn't wearing the armor doesn't say it already.

Many people have already pointed this out, and I'm sure my early morning ramblings don't make much sense, but something about tr!bad finally being seen by someone as more than the resources and exploits he could hand out to people, more than the deals he could make with them, and more than the terrible villain he's usually painted as, just really tugs at my heartstrings and makes me so goddamn emotional.