#cause I don’t have photoshop or anything fancy like that

[knifepervert]

I really hope my Wrestling Secret Santa will like their set 🥺

[houseofbrat]

Okay I know that photo was egregiously edited but where is all this journalistic integrity when it comes to airbrushing actors or politicians in big fancy media spreads. Also— you know every giant news conglomerate will try to use AI images as soon as humanly possible so they don’t have to pay actual photographers. I’m glad they killed this photo but it just seems odd as I would imagine doctored images are quite common in news media.

ETA: thanks for all the feedback I also found this article helpful https://www.washingtonpost.com/style/2024/03/11/kate-middleton-photo-standards/

I work in PR/comms. This is not airbrushing. Speculation is the photo was cobbled together from earlier photos; e.g., that there's no photo at all, just a "collage" of sorts, and that's why KP can't release the original.

But the media are consistently blaming the current situation on how “protective” Prince William is, and how it’s specifically his relationship with privacy that has been the cause of this. That’s what they’re saying on every media channel. Yet this is a man who has just let his wife cop the whole blame for the thing. The double standards and the continued media protection of William is distasteful. Nothing he’s done thus far in this situation has been to protect his wife or children, it has been to protect himself.

I was just going to say William's not doing anything to help himself here. I agree with the news agencies that are saying KP's only real option now is to disclose everything: the nature of Kate's procedure, the reason William missed King Constantine's funeral, and the original photo. One could argue that they don't HAVE to, as the royal family is entitled to privacy. But if they WANT to fix this mess, that's what needs to happen.

For someone who isn't supposed to be in the public eye until after Easter, she's managed to be top of mind pretty much everywhere.

I’m from Brazil and everyone is talking about it. Almost as much as the death of QEII.

And the general consensus seems to be that she was thrown under the bus.

I wonder what the opinions of other countries and cultures are.

I mean, if this was Harry disappearing for weeks while Meghan is posting weirdly doctored photos of him, I think we can readily expect that the UK press would not have been so genteel in their coverage of the situation.

This also seems like the type of story that was made to go viral with the true crime crowd on social media; woman disappears after a sudden surgery, her husband is seen acting oddly in public, her kids haven't seen her in weeks, her husband is posting photoshopped pictures of her with the kids on the joint instagram account, and the only time she's been spotted in public was with huge sunglasses on or looking away from the camera in a dark car.

While I do think there is some truth to the article, the author fails to mention the viciousness Kate was subjected to in the early years of her dating William. There are numerous videos online of her being chased and harassed by paparazzi. Videos of them waiting for her to arrive at the airport while hurling slurs her way. She even had topless photos published without her consent! She did not have it easy. It was only after the marriage and the birth of her children, the media seem to turn more positive towards her. There was an article on CNN discussing the colour of Kates baby when she was pregnant with George. The article claimed the baby may have a darker skin tone due to her ‘commoner genes’! Yes, you read that right, the article was about Kate and not Meghan. I think that’s the sick misogynistic nature of the media, the royal women are always take the biggest beating. It was wrong when it happened to Diana, it was wrong when it happened to Fergie, it was wrong what happened to Kate, it was wrong when it happened to Megan and now it’s wrong It’s happening to Kate again.

William and Charles have entirely separate offices.  It really just looks like Charles is letting William determine his own course of action and that includes letting him make his own mistakes.

Has Kate stopped cooperating with TRF? Is she refusing to sit for photographs? Refusing to make an appearance or return to work?

The only leverage she has is to refuse to do their bidding. IMO, this is what's happening. She has ghosted TRF and told them to figure out the PR crisis on their own. She is mad about something.

Behind the scenes, the press knows that something is up. This is why they are making a big deal about the photograph. They are pushing TRF to admit they created it out of thin air because Kate refused to sit for a photograph with her children.

I wasn't a conspiracy theorist before this week but it feels like something very weird is happening.

Everyone needs to ask themselves: why is KP no longer protecting Kate? They used to always bend over backwards to protect both W&K, but now they are sacrificing K so W doesn’t look bad. The statement she clearly did not write taking the fall for the photoshop is absolutely meant to place the blame solely on Kate (which is ridiculous because clearly the photo had to be approved before release). They’re trying to make her look untrustworthy as a source, and we need to all be asking WHY is KP doing this to one of their principles? Why don’t they want us to trust what she’s saying or posting? They are trying to subtly separate Kate from KP instead of insulating her, creating a KP vs Kate dynamic. It definitely feels like things are turning on her and she’s not playing by their rules anymore…

Dropping this opinion piece here. It is not saying anything new, really, but it is illustrative of how the good faith and favourable and fluffy press that Wills and Kate have been enjoying for years now is vanishing up fast, and more importantly, the angle of "actually, Harry and Meghan might have been right all along" is starting to gain traction, which is amazing since KP's incompetence is only helping to feed this narrative. 100% a self inflicted wound: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/13/opinion/kate-middleton-scandal.html?unlocked_article_code=1.cU0.yIUn.JReERm0NfWrW&smid=url-share

I am just here in my corner eating popcorn and enjoying the primo tea.

I am starting to think the Occam’s razor here is that Kate is not cooperating.

The Mother’s Day picture was supposed to function as an update on her health and it turned out to be fake, so of course the speculation will continue. She could take a cell phone snap and release it and all of the noise would settle down. It’s extremely telling that she doesn’t.

i just can't believe there's a photoshop thread about the royal family. it's hilariously absurd how badly they fudged this whole thing

I’m still baffled by the lack of leaks and/or sightings. I have to imagine that if Kate stepped foot in public, someone would have snapped a photo. That seems like a long time to be sequestered, especially when we’ve been made to believe she often does her own grocery shopping.

This is exactly right. They could have said someone on the team photoshopped it - and Kate is on the team. They didn’t have to bring her name into it. To hop from “never complain, never explain to throwing Kate under the double bus is gob smacking.

According to Cosmopolitan not even Kate's senior staff knows what is going on with her. I get people not knowing her medical ins and outs, but how is she not talking to her staff? https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/celebs/a60186817/kate-middleton-shroud-of-secrecy-concerning/

[lmelodie]

Environment sketches??? In my photoshop??? it's more likely than you think!!

I have a few very vivid images in my head of some places in the Chance and Choice universe and I AM NOT the best at getting them out and rendering exactly what they look like to me, but I can get close enough so have some odds and ends of my imagination! (Maybe one day I'll try my hand at some CS or Frostmas locations as well)

Father Times tower was probably the easiest and clearest for me to imagine. The rungs of the different floors just go all the way up into infinity, there's no end to them. And it's hard to imagine the scale (There's like two little people on the bottom platform for that) but this place is HUGE. Its why this is the place where the whole magical world congregates for new year's, it's the only place that can actually fit everyone.

OH, MY GOODNESS KILLIANS PLACE DUDE?? Top tier. I wasn't lying when I said he lives in the corner of a cave. The giant whole to the human world is already very far away from human civilization, but the entrance is also cloaked for good measure. (I wanna believe a cliffside ocean front isn't that far away from the mortal entrance).

Fun Facts about Killian's place:

He currently doesn't have a bed. He used to have one when he was with Jack, but he has since gotten rid of it. It would've been on the little raised platform. 

He’s got a steep set of stairs that descend into the darkness, what does he have down there? Even I don't know :) 

The plant in the corner is straight up Belladonna, a gift from Chimera. 

He does in fact have a jar of random teeth in his possession (Don't tell Roy)

The door is just a storage space/closet. (Idk where the bathroom is. I think its somewhere completely separate)

Jacks house is probably the one I have the least clear vision of what it would look like. But either way, the house itself is in a perpetually frozen forest. The inside I would think would be fairly modern and fancy looking, but on the outside its definitely one of those gaudy, colorful, very intricately detailed Victorian houses. And I can have both because the house is enchanted to be bigger on the inside, so I don’t have to worry about window placement or anything. Jacks' mortal world entrance is somewhere right on the shore of Lake Baikal in Russia (cause that things got some crazy ice formations on the regs).

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

[hiccanna-tidbits]

okay, okay but hear me out!

Hiccanna, Moanida and Jackunzel (and maybe someone else if u want) going on a holiday trip together (it could be sea or lake or just swimming pool).

And that three couples playing "chicken fight game"~ When u have to sit on partner shoulder or ridding piggy-back and knock down or separate the other couple!

sksksks just imagine the fun and the chaos!! hahaha

Okay SO I recently watched Palm Springs so I’m just imagining The Gang going to like…a fancy pool resort in like Arizona??? SURE LET’S GO WITH THAT

I’m imagining the only resort the gang could afford to stay at is someplace out in the middle of Arizona or something

It takes a LOT of persuading to get Jack to go, because he haaaaates deserts. Rapunzel basically has to beg. Moana finally managed to bribe him with really good homemade ice slushies. (She’s used to making smoothies for Merida, so how hard can slushies be??? Just throw in some ice!)

Rapunzel offers to help Moana with the slushies, since she gave Jack SO many puppy dog eyes to get him to come. Since they’ve got two people working on them, they’re REALLY good slushies. Jack approves.

Anna also tries to convince Elsa to go, but the perpetually-single Elsa is just like “Um, deserts? Sunburns? Being indefinitely stuck with gross couples doing gross couple stuff?!? Yeah no thank you”

Hiccup tries to wake everyone up at like 6 am to go hiking because "that's when the desert iguanas are out guys!!! C'mon, we have to go!!!" Anna is only persuaded to go after Hiccup makes her coffee--she really wants to make her bf happy, but also mornings can suck her dick. Rapunzel is more than happy to go, because she loves mornings anyways!!! And oh my god, IGUANAS!!! Jack, Merida, and Moana are like "oh FUCK no" and put the pillow back over their head, shoo Hiccup away, and go back to sleep.

On their hike, Hiccup just goes "!!!!!!!" about every reptile he sees. Snake, lizard, horny toad, literally anything with scales will send the boy into an excited frenzy. Rapunzel has similar reactions. Anna could not love both of them more.

At one point, they stumble across a gila monster sunbathing, and Rapunzel is overtaken with the unwavering desire to adopt him. She gets Hiccup on board, and he tries to lure the lizard over with a dusty piece of a snake carcass he found (Anna tried to tell him he really shouldn't touch that, but he was not to be swayed and Anna ended up figuring he could just wash his hands really well when they got back). Anna finds herself in the unusual position of having to be the Voice of Reason, having to be like “hey uh I think this might be illegal and stuff??? Also aren't they poisonous???”

(I know what you're thinking. Bold of you to assume Anna knows the difference between poisonous and venomous.)

Rapunzel literally CANNOT stop gushing to Jack about all the wildlife she saw when she gets back! Jackrabbits! Kangaroo rats! Roadrunners! Peccaries! Centipedes! Jack has only mild to moderate interest in desert ecology, but loves hearing his gf gush so he listens attentively anyways. 

Anna and Rapunzel definitely hit up the gift shops in the resort town at some point, and go ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT HOGWILD buying gifts for everyone. They probably max out their credit cards. It's embarrassing, really. But Anna gets Hiccup an absolute shitton of those little wall lizard things and he nearly cries tears of joy when he sees them, so it's all worth it, really.

Moana will not leave the pool like. The entire time. The girl is just obsessed with being in the water, honestly. She gets restless, though, and can't just stand in the pool and vibe--she needs to constantly be moving and swimming around or she'll explode. Merida is more than happy to indulge her by hanging out in the poor with her, but Merida is also constantly challenging her to swim races--a very dumb idea, considering Moana is on the high school swim team and water polo team. Merida, naturally, is an extremely sore loser and is not above excessive pouting, splashing, yelling in angry Scottish, and dunking her girlfriend in revenge. It's at least entertaining for all of their friends to watch.

Jack keeps fucking taking huge buckets of ice from the ice machine and dumping them in the pool. At first he only does this because he keeps griping about the pool not being cold enough (this boy will accept nothing less than sitting in the goddamn arctic ocean), but after her figures out that it pisses off his friends, he takes to pouring said ice directly over their heads. Merida has threatened to murder him several times for this.

Hiccup and Anna's main pool activity is just lazing around on their pool floaties (Anna has a duck one, Hicccup has a dragon one because obviously), sipping cocktails, and just generally vibing. Through some ungodly mixture of pure charisma and a fake ID that Rapunzel helped photoshop, Jack manages to talk his way into getting the whole group access to alcohol. Hiccup is a sangria or Moscow Mule kinda guy while Anna usually gets a Pina Colada or a Sex on the Beach (she's aspec, so she literally will not stop joking about the irony of this). Merida makes a game out of attempting to tip over their floaties and dunk them. Jack, chaos gremlin that he is, puts aside his usual rivalry with Merida to join in. They have a surprisingly strong dunking alliance.

Hiccup and Anna try to form a syndicate of their own, and try to lounge on the same floatie so that they can protect each other while fighting off Jack and Merida together. Unfortunately neither of their floaties were made to hold 2 peoples' weight, so the one they're on ends up tipping over, spilling their cocktails everywhere and dunking them anyways. Jack and Merida consider this a Win By Default.

Moana of course loops everyone into playing water polo at some point. Unfortunately some idiot decided it would be a good idea to let Merida of all people pick the teams, which means of course that they are incredibly rigged. It's Moana, Merida and Anna vs. Jack, Rapunzel, and Hiccup, so basically The Jocks vs. The Nerds (although admittedly Anna is more of a softcore jock--she's nowhere near on Moana or Merida's level, but she's still more naturally athletic than Hiccup, Rapunzel, or Jack). Naturally, Jock Team absolutely whoops Nerd Team's ass. Jack gets salty and demands a rematch. ...Jock Team kicks Nerd Team's ass again.

Throughout all of this, no one thinks to just...rearrange the teams a little. Merida was counting on this. All according to plan.

In the titular chicken game (yes, I remembered, don't worry!), it's Merida on Moana's shoulders (Moana swims and has a lot of upper body strength, what can I say?), Hiccup on Anna's shoulders (I mean...Hiccup's a twig, and Anna HAS to have a fair amount of upper body strength from throwing busts around and punching men off boats and such), and Punz on Jack's shoulders (Jack's pretty lithe and good at keeping his balance while jumping around, so he's their best candidate for not just falling over).

Jack and Rapunzel actually manage to stay in the game longer than anyone expects--their primary strategy is “be good at dodging and staying out of the way while Merida and Hiccup duke it out.” And it works! As limber as Hiccup is, Anna's not nearly as coordinated as Jack and is no match for Moana's sturdy footing. Also, neither Anna nor Hiccup are prepared for how goddamn ruthless and determined to win Merida is. Even though they really, really should have been. I mean...have you met Merida???

When it comes down to Merida-Moana and Rapunzel-Jack, Mer feels a little bad for having to go up against Pure Sweet Punzie. Unfortunately, Rapunzel turns out to be a very hardcore fighter when she puts her mind to it, and Merida is much more evenly matched than she initially thought and realizes she must use her Full Power. It definitely helps her snap out of Going Soft when Jack starts brutally roasting Merida in particular (as per usual). Merida gets a rage-fueled Second Wave, and finally manages to knock Rapunzel over in one foul swoop. Merida and Moana are victorious!

Moana and Merida basically always shower together after a day at the pool. They claim it's because they both know how to handle curly hair in chlorine, and just like to wash each other's hair, but the rest of the gang is pretty sure that's not all that's going on in there.

One day, Anna hits up the resort town alone to buy some kind of secret gifts for her friends with what little money she has left (this girl seriously has no chill when it comes to buying presents).  She goes past this huge, fancy ice cream shop and she's like “!!!! OMG!!! I'm gonna surprise all my buddies with pints of their faves!!!” She just gets super hyped and buys everyone ice cream, getting so caught up in the thrill of it that she forgets that she'll have to like. Drive all this back all the way back to the resort in the rental car. In like. You know. 110+ degree weather.

By the time she gets back to the resort, the ice cream is, of course, goop. Poor Anna, feeling incredibly dumb and like an utter failure of a friend, just kind of bursts into tears. Like damn. This is too much. She was gonna make all her pals so happy, and all for naught! Jack just kinda shrugs and throws all the melted ice cream cartons in the freezer anyways. Once they're (partially) re-frozen, Rapunzel and Moana make slushies with them. They actually come out pretty decent. Anna is substantially cheered up.

Moana prepares some tropical fruit platters for everyone to snack on. Rapunzel tries to “improve” them by adding chocolate sauce and nutella to half of them. Sometimes it works (I mean...bananas and strawberries with chocolate and/or nutella is pretty solid). Other times it just tastes...very weird. Merida gest frustrated and yells at Rapunzel for “ruining all of her girlfriend's good mangoes.”

Jack just thinks this whole thing is so funny, and decides to swap the chocolate sauce with barbecue sauce to cause further chaos. Absolute mayhem ensures. Everyone has a bad time. Except for Anna, who apparently is just a freak who enjoys eating pineapple slices dipped in barbecue sauce.

At some point, Merida gets really drunk on appletinis or some shit and signs the entire group up for a local archery competition. Much to everyone's chagrin, it's no refunds. Naturally, basically everyone sans Merida does terrible. Rapunzel and Hiccup very nearly shoot themselves, while Jack and Anna come very close to  accidentally shooting a group of referees (although Jack might have done this on purpose). Moana gets the farthest, if only because Merida's taught her how to shoot a bow at some point. Merida actually ends up winning--although unfortunately, the prize is $20 and a very cheap plastic trophy (which Merida STILL manages to find a way to break before the trip is even over).

The rest of the group is much more amicable to the concept of going on hikes when said hikes are in the evening. Hiccup and Rapunzel are still excitedly chattering about the local ecosystems the entire time, and Jack and Anna are just kind of looking at their nerdy SOs like “<3 <3 <3″ Moana and Merida, meanwhile, are just kinda vibing in the back, passively listening in and watching the desert sunset.

Rapunzel manages to capture Mer and Mo's interest and gets them to participate more with geology, of all things. Merida just thinks rocks are cool (especially when they can be thrown at people bothering her!), while Moana likes learning about the physical history of places--how water can carve out landscapes, and all that. Hiccup and Jack just kind of exchange a look like “I had no idea that they were into rocks, but...the more you know, I guess???”

Jack makes fun of every reptile they see, mainly to piss Hiccup off. Unfortunately it has the opposite effect, and Hiccup can't help but be entertained--mainly because Jack's insults are so weirdly specific and over-the-top that they loop around to being hilarious. Seriously, he keeps saying shit like “Those are the lamest scales I've ever seen. Absolutely drab, and not nearly shiny enough to prove that nature is beautiful. 0/10.” and “Ohhhh, this fucking rattlesnake think's he's so scary, with his dumb percussion instrument tail!!! I could be more intimidating with a mean look and a large pair of maracas!”

At some point, a bunch of tourists riding donkeys pass them. Anna, Rapunzel, and Merida just absolutely lose their shit fangirling over how cute the donkeys are, thus exposing all three of them as the unabashed Horse Girls they are. Hiccup, Jack, and Moana find this extremely amusing, and definitely aren't above teasing their girlfriends about it. Hiccup asks if next time they take a couples' vacation, the Horse Gang (as Moana insists on nicknaming them) would like to go to a ranch instead.

Anna gets like. Obsessed with palm trees. Like they're just so pretty and exotic and tropical!!! OMG!!! And they definitely don't have them wherever the gang is from in this AU. (Also if griping about Elsa not having "tropical powers" is anything to go by, she DOES canonically like the tropics!) She has to take a picture of like...every palm tree on her phone. And considering the gang is in Arizona, that means Anna is stopping to take a picture like...every 2 minutes. Rapunzel catches onto the fact that Anna likes them, and paints her a picture with some when Punz has the time. Anna definitely cries when she sees it. Hiccup can't do nearly that good, but he does buy her some little plastic figurine ones in a gift shop that she can put in her room. Anna also cries about this. She just cries whenever any of her friends indulge her random fixation on palm trees. Surely she doesn't deserve such niceties!!!

Rapunzel is just. In love with the desert landscape tbh. Like the huge funky cacti!!! The shrubs!!! The desert wildflowers!!! The mesas!!! All of it!!! So of course she needs to pull out her easel and paint it. Jack walks by one day and sees her working on it and, partly just to troll her, he's like “put some snow in it!” As he walks away, Rapunzel just stops like “wait...that'd actually be such a great idea for a surrealist-type fantasy piece!!!” After she finishes the main landscape, she adds an overcoat of little puffs of snow on top of everything, and has some clumps falling off of the cacti. When she shows Jack, he just about cries tears of joy, but frantically tries to hide it. She gives the painting to him as a present at the end of the trip. He hangs that shit front-in-center in his room and cherishes it forever and ever.

At some point, Jack gets the ingenious idea that he's going to prank Merida by catching a tarantula and leaving it in her room. It's one of the harmless ones--Jack fact-checks this by offhandedly asking Hiccup and framing it as a casual interest in local etymology. Still, Merida screams far louder than is at all dignified, and also probably loud enough to wake a neighboring country. Rapunzel later has to physically hold Merida back to keep her from absolutely beating Jack into a pulp. Rapunzel also manages to get the World's Largest Sheet of Cardboard and the World's Largest Cup and somehow manages to get the damn thing back outside.

[nakunakunomi]

Congrats on 300 followers Hzael! You deserve it! Can I ask for 42 (I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having) with Aizawa? Thank you! OwO

Hi love! Here’s some knight in shining armor Shota to save you from the other douchebags on donkeys! Hope you enjoy! 

Come save me - Shota Aizawa x Reader 

Cliche with bae event Prompt #42: come save me from the terrible date I’m having  Character: Shota Aizawa - Word count: 1.7k 

Hunger. Regret. Embarrassment. More regret. Anger. Frustration. A whirlpool of emotions was going through you as you kept your expression as neutral as possible, aggressively cutting the piece of steak in front of you and eating a bit to try and distract you from the man sitting in front of you, talking while he barely made eye contact. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about at the moment, but you couldn’t care less. You wanted out of here. Now. How did you even get in this situation?

After dating around some in your circle of friends to no avail, you had finally turned to online dating. You made loads of profiles, installed all the apps, did the matching, the swiping, you name it. Out of the hundreds of possible candidates, you immediately deleted anyone that wasn’t looking for anything serious. You were no teenager anymore, you had a job and a home and you were ready to settle down completely.

Your biggest help in this adventure had been your coworkers and best friends, Hizashi and Shota. The three of you had gone to school together and now all three of you were teaching at U.A. Any guy you’d ever date had to go past these two, and honestly, you didn’t mind. Their protectiveness was endearing and they were pretty good judges of character.

They had been helping you weed out matches, even secretly (but not so secretly) tagged along on dates to make sure it wasn’t some creep. Even though you’d be perfectly fine fending off a creep by yourself, you were a capable hero after all, you really liked them looking out for you.

Now for this date, it had been a little different. You had gotten this match from one of the more expensive sites. The kind where so-called experts matched people based on their personalities and profiles. It took you a whole long time filling in a question list for them, but when you got your match, you were not disappointed. Dating apps and such made you a little more shallow, looks were the first thing you saw on those, but hell, you were pleasantly surprised. Your ultimate match was extremely good-looking. But almost insanely so. Shota grabbed your phone, said ‘probably a douche’, and gave it back. Hizashi only laughed at the remark and let you first read up on his profile.

Your match did a normal office job but had an intelligence-based quirk that allowed him to understand everyone regardless of the language they spoke, which he used in his line of work. He was two years older than you, stable income, own house. He did some volunteering in his free time and most of your hobbies seemed to line up or were compatible at least. It was almost too good to be true, which was exactly what Hizashi said.

“Well, who pays so much money for such a personal dating service and then goes around and lies on their profile? That’d be stupid.” You were zooming in on the pictures he shared, desperately trying to find traces of photoshop, but to no avail. Right as you were about to say something, he sent you the first message. You replied enthusiastically, and a nice conversation was born.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and your match had proposed to go have dinner somewhere. It was a pretty fancy restaurant he proposed, but you accepted, it was a nice change to maybe dress up and have an actual fancy date. You were keeping realistic scenario’s in your head but you couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was maybe the one you had been waiting for all along.

The date came along and you were actually in a sour mood before you even got there. Mostly because Shota had been increasingly mean about the guy the more you gushed about him. At some point, you had made a remark about jealousy, and that had caused quite a discussion until Hizashi broke it up and told you to get ready, and he’d be off for a guy’s night with Shota. It had been a while after all, and that way you wouldn’t even have to worry about either of them spying on you during your date.

How you were regretting that now. You wished they had spied on you because this date was a disaster. He had been over twenty minutes late, didn’t tell you the name of the reservation so you were waiting outside in the cold until he finally showed up. He looked great, just like in his pictures, but way less well-kempt than he had been looking on his pictures. You had dressed up in your best dress, had gone to the hairdresser to get your hair on point, applied a subtle amount of makeup to look your best, and appropriate for the date and the location. He was wearing some jeans, a T-shirt that had some spots on it that you didn’t even want to know about.

You smiled anyway, greeting him by holding out your hand, not too keen on hugging a total stranger, but he had gone straight in for a kiss on the cheek, and you noticed how he didn’t smell nice either. It really busted your mood, even more, were you only worth so little effort that he showed up like that? But you kept his hobbies, and all the nice things he had said in chat in mind, and went into the restaurant, putting all your hope in the person he was in your chat messages, which had been a terrible idea.

The food was expensive and way too little, and this man had not stopped talking about himself. The volunteering was a one-time gig, ‘always pleases the ladies’ he had smugly added to the story, and many other things on his profile weren’t exactly lies, but were mostly polished up truths to make him look better. He had gone as far as interrupting you multiple times even after he himself had asked you a question, degraded female heroes and generally any woman who worked because ‘you gotta let men do the job’. He expected his partner to drop their job for him, so he could be the sole provider. He was looking for a housewife, but the way he described it, was more a live-in-maid he could have some intimacy with as well, just whenever he pleased. It made you sick to your stomach and you wanted to leave, but that was not so easy in such a fancy restaurant without possibly causing a commotion.

You briefly excused yourself from the table, and he gave you a pissed-off look because you had clearly interrupted whatever very important thing he was saying. You made a beeline for the bathroom, contemplating for a second to just walk out but again, you had some kind of reputation to uphold. Once in the bathroom, you immediately dialed Shota’s number. He picked up within seconds.

“Let me guess. He’s a douche.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug tone in his voice. “He’s terrible… please come save me?” “I don’t know if I can. I mean… I cannot possibly interrupt your date with this perfect, wonderful, beautf-” “Shota I swear to god, get your ass over here. I need you right now.” It was silent for a few seconds, and then you heard a low chuckle before he spoke up again. “One rescue mission coming up.”

He had not put in the slightest effort to hide his annoyance, but you knew he’d show up. You refrained from splashing cold water in your face because you didn’t want to mess up your makeup and headed back into the dining room. He made some remark on how long you took and you focussed back on your plate, inwardly praying Shota wouldn’t take too much time in getting there.

Luckily for you, it was only about fifteen minutes later that you heard some commotion and before you could even look up what had made some other customers make surprised gasps Shouta was standing at your table. In full Eraserhead gear. Not that that differed so much from his usual clothes, but still, very recognizable. You frowned. “Wha-?” “No time for questions. It’s an emergency, got your costume in the car.” You nodded and stood up, apologizing to your date, who was too speechless and too busy comprehending what was going on to come up with a retort.

Shota looked him up and down once as you were making your way to the exit, sending the man one more apologetic look and wave. “You look like you can handle the bill. Hero duties call sir. Good night”

You got in the car, and not five minutes later Shota got in too and started to drive. You weren’t really sure what to say or what to do. “Where’s…” “Hizashi? Got drunk and got home. I just dropped him off when you called.” “Oh…” You were feeling strangely uncomfortable, but you were not really sure why exactly, probably because the argument from earlier was not really resolved yet. “Shota, I’m sorry about-” “Don’t mention it. I could’ve reacted more maturely”

You nodded, looking ahead again. No use for deep discussions when Shota had a road to focus on. You looked around and were surprised to not be going back in the direction of your house. “Where are we going?” “A decent place” “What do you mean?” “Well, it’d be sad if you dressed up all beautiful like that for no reason. I know a place.” You blushed a little and looked at him, his eyes focussed on the road as he said that almost matter-of-a-factly. “Like… like a date?” you almost didn’t dare as k. “Like a date.”

You were speechless. In all your dating adventures you had never even considered the option that the perfect match was around you already all along. “If you’re up for that, if not, I can just drop you off at home?” “No no…”, you smiled, “I’d like that. No surprises with you.” “No stupid profile needed.” He smiled a little from behind the steering wheel and you felt the corners of your mouth curl up too. “No stupid profiles needed indeed.”

You knew what you were going to do when you got home: delete all that bullshit from your laptop and phone. Cause this time, it could really be the one.

[chicinlicin]

Hello! I was wondering how you started out animating, and how you did that. I’m a big fan of your work and when I found out you did animating I wanted to ask this question because I myself, are looking for a way to start animating, but it’s not like I can really afford all those expensive tablets..

AAH THANK YOU!! I started using just pencil and paper! it is a bit harder cause you can’t play it back in real time unless it’s a flipbook, but it’s still a start. Originally used Ulead gif animator to compile the frames, then photoshop (think anything from ps7 onwards has the gif feature, don’t need the fancy stuff).

If you can get your hands on even one of those cheaper tablets that opens up what programs you can use. Or do what I did and learn how to draw with a mouse...which actually isn’t that bad when you’re used to it. It was a while before I started using tablets, so it can be done!

Related to this post, I taught myself more complex animation by printing out frames and tracing over them. For me at least this really helped me learn timing without needing to have immediate playback

this isn’t a great example cause it’s missing a bunch of inbetweens, but it’s close enough ^^’

[impassiveesper]

What was your first impression of the roleplay community on Tumblr? And what’s your impression of it now?

Mun’s Asks: RP Edition

1.) What was your first impression of the roleplay community on Tumblr? And what’s your impression of it now?

[OOF STRAP IN INTREPID]

I’ve been on this hellsite since the beginning but I really only started RPing here after a few years.  Probably in 2012 or 2013? I can’t remember exactly when but I remember being very intimidated by the idea of RP on this platform in particular. There is a bit of a steep learning curve in terms of etiquette here that is even steeper when you factor in the near requirement for tumblr-literacy.  Like you basically need xkit to RP and you need to understand what kinds of asks get eaten and when/how cuts work and what behaviors do and don’t cause notifications and how ask posts work and how the block/blacklist features do and dont work and what tags tumblr will and wont index etc etc.  When you’re a tumblr old head it’s easy to forget newcomers don’t immediately know things like that. It’s part of the reason why I tend to be very basic in my approach compared to what is popular at the moment. I was one of those fabled newcomers at one point.

I don’t really think that tumblr RPC is any better or worse now than it was back then, just different. A lot of what’s popular now was a thing back then, but now it’s more commonplace in a much smaller population of RPers. I wouldn’t say that the RPC has many new problems as much as I would say the old problems have intensified.

When I started out I was in a fandom that was very cliquey and made me feel like shit a lot and those spaces probably still exist on tumblr but the difference is I know what my boundaries are and what behaviors I will and wont tolerate on my dash.  Overall the RPC is much better at talking about things like that than it used to be imo. That same fandom I just shit on was also a lot of fun and taught me that it was okay to not take RP too seriously and not be too worried about if it looks pretty enough or was fancy enough. I’m really grateful for people who would RP with me back then even though I unknowingly broke a lot of tumblr RPC’s unwritten rules.  

That’s why it’s very important to me as a seasoned RPer to be as approachable a blog as I can possibly be. In this the lords year of 2020 I still feel myself being set in my ways and avoiding trends that are ultimately harmless, but there is an extent to which I have to participate in order to be courteous to others so I do my best to be open minded about Neo RPC Trends. I end up being of two minds just about everything that’s popular right now. 

Take for example reblog karma / I AM NOT A MEME SOURCE type rules. I think that’s shits dumb, you guys can reblog anything you want from me, in fact reblogging it from me heightens the chances of me sending you one whether you sent me one or not. I’m not gonna get mad at you for using the website as it is intended by the devs to be used, but also if somebody else’s rules say it bugs them to have memes rbed from them, then I think their feelings are more important than my opinion on the matter. People are more important to me than policies in cases like these, so of course I’ll reblog the meme from the source instead of you or w/e.  

But at the same time, that idea about feelings also includes the feelings of people who are new to RP and maybe don’t even know the etiquette well enough to know they’re messing up.  There’s a lot to get mad about in the current state of tumblr RP but even when I agree that I want this particular tedium done, I don’t really agree with the idea that I should make it a rule that forces other people to stay away from me. Yes I dont want to be ponging an ask post back and forth. Yes I want our posts cut.  But also, I wont get mad if you rb an ask instead of putting it in a new post. I’ll just put in a new post myself. I wont get mad if you dont cut a post, I’ll just cut it myself. It’s not hard to do.

Take also graphics, banners, and all manner of fancy formatting. RPC has really really leaned into that a lot more than back in 2013. On the one hand, I think that’s great. People are so creative. Their stuff looks so pretty, and I really like the work people put in. I don’t think it’s a bad thing necessarily, but on the other hand it does heighten that already steep barrier for entry imo, especially in circles that require it and judge based upon it. For me it’s more important to avoid looking like that’s an expectation of mine. Like, I can do that stuff. I do sometimes, actually. I make icons in batches of hundreds, I take commissions for RP graphics, don’t tell anybody. I’m a freelance illustrator and I know my way around the adobe creative suite-- I CAN make these things and I do for other people, but I can’t be called to do it for myself in most cases. When I see a blog with very nice graphics I immediately assume they don’t care to interact with me. In fact I still tend to unfairly think this even when they’ve shown me otherwise. If we don’t have a long term rapport and you’re a blog with nice graphics and I reply to your posts, what you’re seeing is a neurotic prey animal that is afraid of you signaling alarm.  For whatever reason I tend to interpret very fancy looking blogs as confident and happy in their own existing bubbles with no particular interest in newcomers. I know that’s not always a fair assumption to make--it’s a problem with me that I need to work on--but also I know other people deal with similar feelings. That’s why I don’t feel particularly called to make much beyond the most basic of graphics most of the time and I’m highly avoidant of anybody who seems like graphics are a requirement for interactions with them. Not everybody has photoshop. Not everybody is skilled at that sort of thing. I don’t want people to think that I will judge their style based on what my own style looks like, so I don’t invest much in it. Again, there’s nothing wrong with graphics, but it’s more important to me than anything else that I am approachable and I make other people on the dash as comfortable as I can. I’m glad that it seems like a requirement for cohesive graphics has waned over the last few years.

But, yea. I’d say this duality--the “this is cool but also I have reasons I feel I shouldn’t participate”--is how I feel about pretty much everything that’s big right now.  And like don’t even get me started on the anxiety RPC has around things like soft blocking and mutuals and multiples and “quality”. These things in particular aren’t that new, but a lot of Neo RPC etiquette and trends surrounding those types of anxieties represent a whole quagmire that I try to avoid as much as I can, often to a fault, and lately I’ve realized that in my blanket avoidance I am actually missing out on some things I really should consider doing. My icons could do with some light color retouching. I do want to get my tags together eventually. Permanent starter calls, interests checkers, banners to make asks more easily rebloggable-- these things are functional and can be fun and make RP easier and help people feel emboldened to approach. Like, there are a lot of newish things that are actually cool and I should maybe consider trying them out, but being an oldster has really made me slow to adapt.

So yeah, idk if that was clear at all lol. Take these many, many unnecessary words to say that again, I don’t necessarily think that the current RPC is better or worse in an objective sense, but I do think a lot of the anxieties and trends that were starting in the old RPC have really caught fire now in a way that makes them hard to abstain from even if you want to. Since the RPC is so much smaller now than it was in 2013, you really do have to play ball on these things more than you used to have to in order to find partners. There is a lot of etiquette and anxiety that goes unspoken in the RPC and so I often avoid fairly harmless RPC trends as a means of mitigating that anxiety and clarifying the unspoken as much as I can. Tumblr already has a barrier for entry by being a broken website that hates its rp users, I don’t need to pile on any extra factors to make that barrier to entry look any taller.

[winnerloser]

idk who needed to hear this today but 

if you use fanart for anything, you give credit for it.

usually i would just implore you guys to at your own discretion but. 

i think sometimes people forget that if you use fanart without explicitly asking for the author’s permission, that's stealing. but obviously no one has ill intent behind it with this hobby, which is why crediting is important. it’s the least you can do.

it doesnt matter how much you use the fanart. even if it only appears on your blog once. even if it’s just a throwaway icon for a gag. even if you replace the icon with new icons from somewhere else. if it was on your blog at some point, and you don’t intend on deleting it, and it’s still on there, you give credit for it.

there’s maybe some leeway if you commissioned the art and/or the artist already cosigned you to using it without giving permission. but that’s the only special instance i can think of.

in that same vein, please just look on artist’s profiles to see if they allow reposting in the first place. if their account says no reproduction/no reposting/DONT USE MY ART.... don’t use it. if the bio is in japanese, chinese, korean, whatever- google translate it. i know google translate can suck but it’ll easily convey what you need to be looking for. 

if you’re one to think that you don’t want to use source media like screenshots or mangacaps because fanart is prettier, don’t ignore the fact that the people providing you the luxury to do so are just that- people, who spent hours to draw what could amount to just one or two icons. who could’ve drawn what you were using as a commission for someone else. who more than likely posted the image without any idea what you’re using it for-- more importantly;

without any idea what you’re using the image to represent, what messages you’re trying to convey- with their image. the fact that the subject is a copyrighted character/isn’t theirs doesn’t change the fact that the drawing in and of itself is still their creation.

it would behoove you to start keeping tabs of the sources you intend to pull from. if you see a piece from pixiv you think you’ll consider pulling from- pluck it, save it, so later when you open photoshop you’re not sitting with the pulled image thats titled computer jibberish with no artist’s signature.

YOU KNOW WHAT? i’ll go you one even better than that.

When you save an image from pixiv - this one for example, by default it’ll save it as 78827921_p0_master1200.jpg.  78827921 is the image ID. https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/78827921 will take you back to that image. Plug in any other ID, and it’ll go back to its source. There you go. Easy if you accidentally forgot to keep tabs.

nobody is entitled to the usage of another person’s art, and if you use the excuse that [just by virtue of OP posting it on the internet, it’s free gain], that’s bullshit.

if you post anything- even a text post or roleplay thread- going by that same logic, anyone should be allowed to reblog it, remix it, go to town on it; it’s on the open internet, after all... right? No. you’re entitled to security in the things you post. you don’t really need to say “don’t/ask to reblog” in the tags for people to get the hint to not or ask first if they feel inclined to. if you believe you’re entitled to that comfort and respect, i don’t see why that mindset can’t be translated to fit the situation of artists. even if you don’t give a shit how your stuff gets circulated, at least try to look at it in the way that not everyone is you.

and not everyone is me, so some may be wondering still why they can’t just go ahead and do what they want so long as they’re not hurting people/keeping it lowkey. i mean, at the end of the day, there’s nothing i can do about it either. you can totally do whatever you want, im not denying that. but just know that you’re not 100% in the clear from getting discovered by somebody. you’re not impervious to being found. and reposting/art being used or transformed without credit or consent is a very real reason that artists get upset or even sometimes lock their profiles, delete, or stop drawing/posting, or stop making their art publically available. this is NOT just a western philosophy. asian artists do this just as well- hell, you could even say that some are even more stringent about etiquette when it comes to treating their works with respect. that includes reposting policies.

if you’re too tired/busy/lazy/forgetful/cursed to credit, that’s 100% not an excuse lol. or if you’re thinking, crap, i have all these nicely done assets that i’ve created but it’ll be too difficult to go back and retroactively find the sources!

idk what to tell u but tough titties bro thats a you problem*

uh, so to end this:

再版ポリシーが破られている場合は、お知らせください。すぐに画像を削除します。このブログから利益を得ることも、失礼することも意図していません。再版は許可されているが、クレジットがない場合は、お知らせください。修正いたします。ありがとうございます、失礼します。

如果违反了您的转载政策，请告知我们。我会立即删除图像。它无意从此博客中受益或无礼。如果允许转载，但信用不正确，请告知我们。我会马上改正的。谢谢，不好意思。祝好

this is in my credit’s page at the bottom. i can’t vouch for the japanese, but i can say with more certainty that the chinese is legible. if someone is better at japanese and has any adjustments they’d recommend, please do so! it’s just saying that i don’t intend to cause harm or disrespect by borrowing the artwork, and that at any of the artists’ discretion, whether i’m violating their repost policy or not, they are urged to reach out to me and tell me to remove their art if they don’t want it on my blog. feel free to snatch it and use it for your credits page, or write something similar in lieu of that. i’m 100% in support of that.

please be conscious and considerate of the people who work hard and do a good deal of the heavy lifting for you to be able to make your blog pretty and aesthetic in the first place. i think the bounty of beautiful and high-quality art for the pokemon fandom- or for any popular fandom for that matter- sometimes makes us forget that it isn’t a commodity. it’s something that when taken for granted, can genuinely affect others who work hard to provide content for people to enjoy. at the end of the day, they do this to make themselves and others happy. seeing others take that work without any acknowledgement to them is demoralizing, don’t think that they’ll get enough recognition from others to compensate for you. that’s frankly not how posting art on social media works at all.

i mean, even if this doesn’t convince you, i can only hope it’ll spur you to be more conscious in the future. 

*i get that things happen and this isn’t meant to shame you if you happen to be one to do any of the things other than credit. but know that you don’t... really have an excuse when there’s so many different options, shortcuts and alternatives available to you. you don’t really cite from a shitton of different sources for your paper and then go back to pick through every individual quote to find where it came from to avoid plagiarizing. you just.. make a note or works cited. it takes like, 15 extra minutes. if you’re going to spend hours on photoshop or writing fancy infoposts, you can spend an extra 15 making a works cited.

[dead-inside-mcgee]

Beyond that door - Part 3

Red Flags

I know it’s been like 6 months since I updated this fic but I’m actually proud of this idea and this quarantine is hitting hard 

Summary:  He was alone with someone with the motive, the means, and possibly even the desire to kill him. And yet that’s not what Chase was anxious over.

Word Count: 1951

Taglist: @rabbitsartcorner @caori-azarath @murder-schmurder

On top of the tallest building in town, there stood Jackie, staring up at the moon. He was in his casual outfit, a red hoodie and jeans, along with an old, brown flat cap.

  He checked his watch every few seconds. There was a soft creak as the door leading up here swung open. 

  “You’re late,” Jackie growled, hardly in the mood to put on his usual, bright and cheery facade. 

  The man said nothing. 

  Jackie checked his watch again. “Do you know where he is?” 

  “He told me he had plans tonight.” 

  “It’s just like that bastard to make plans when he knew I wanted to meet up.” 

  “Why exactly did you call this meeting?” The man stepped out into the moonlight, keeping his distance from the edge of the building. 

  “I don’t know, Jameson, why did I call this meeting?” Jackie hissed, turning to give him a sharp glare. 

  Jameson gulped, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. 

  The Superhero groaned, sitting down and swinging his legs over the edge.

  “S-so I’m guessing you have had no luck finding the puppet?” 

  “Clearly.” 

  “Ma-maybe I can help!” Jameson proposed. “I can send the police out on the streets. Or-or make a public announcement, get people looking. A thousand eyes are better than two. Or four I guess counting um…” 

  He trailed off as Jackie stood up and turned towards him. The superhero laughed, a cold, joyless noise. “Oh Jameson.” He shakes his head, stepping forward to put a firm hand on his shoulder. 

  “If the town knows something is up with the puppet, then they’ll get suspicious. And when people are suspicious they get scared. And when people are scared they do stupid things.” His grip tightened. “Your one and only job is to keep quiet, and cover up our work, and in exchange, everything you desire will be yours. Your heart is in the right place, put it’s time to get your head there too.” 

  With that, Jackie let go and casually walked off the edge of the building, disappearing into the abyss and leaving Jameson with his thoughts. 

***

This was not a date, Chase told himself. This was absolutely not a date.

  After work, Anti met him in the parking lot and insisted that if Chase wouldn’t let him replace Chase’s broken phone, that he at least should join him for dinner. 

  This was clearly a trap of some kind. Anti would kidnap him, or poison him, or even just stab him in the back while he was distracted. But Chase was already quite distracted. Anti took a half mumbled, stuttery maybe as a yes and it was date.

  I mean not a date. 

  Just a simple little get together so Chase could learn more about Anti. He would keep on guard and eat as little as possible. Make excuses and get back to Marvin as soon as possible.

  Nothing could go wrong.

  Except of course everything.

  Chase expected to be taken to some run down burger shop. The kind of place where you could easily slip poison or a drug into someone's food and no one would bat an eye. Or the kind of place you’d die from a heart attack just by looking at the grease flavored burgers. 

  He was not expecting to be taken to the kind of place you bring a long time partner for your anniversary. 

  Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it was much nicer than anywhere Chase would normally get food. That was the first red flag. Well actually around the tenth red flag, but the first since the absolutely-not-a-date started. 

  They were seated at a table and given menus full of foods that Chase couldn’t even begin to pronounce. He ordered the only food he recognized, the waiter not so subtly cringed at his pronunciation, and then he was left alone with a possible killer, or at least someone who worked with one.

  His brain screamed at him to say something, start a conversation, do anything but sit there and awkwardly stare at Anti. 

  “Are you alright there?” Anti asked, “You look a little red. Do you have a fever or something?”  

  Chase glanced at his reflection in the fancy appetizer plates. 

  “I’m f-fine!” He cringed at his voice crack. “I’m just a little warm, th-that’s all!” 

  “Are you sure? You were red faced earlier as well.” He gave him a sympathetic look that made Chase’s stomach twist. “I can ask them to bring in a fan if it would make you more comfortable.” 

  “No!” He shouted loud enough to get some looks from other patrons. “I mean that won’t be necessary. I’m going to use the bathroom.” He stood up and made a dash for the restrooms. 

  In the bathroom Chase splashed some cold water on his face and tried to get a hold of his beating heart. He was afraid. No that’s not the right word. Anxious. 

  He was alone with someone with the motive, the means, and possibly even the desire to kill him. And yet that’s not what Chase was anxious over. 

  His face felt hot and his heartbeat was wild. He’d only felt this way once before and… well he’d rather not think about that.

  Taking a deep breath, Chase exited the bathroom and bumped right into Anti.

  “Oh! There you are. I wanted to check on you and tell you that our food and drinks are here. Everything alright?” 

  Chase nodded, still holding onto that breath. 

  Anti was acting overly nice, there were three possibilities when it comes to why. One, he knows Chase saw him but doesn’t know Chase recognized him. Two, he knows Chase saw and recognized him but is trying to throw him off. Or three, he didn’t know Chase saw him at all and is actually being nice to him. 

  He could cross out the last one because why would someone like Anti be nice to him. 

  He sat down, barely picking at his food. He’d learned a trick from years of “eating” his grandad’s “cooking.” Take a few small bites, shift your food around, and constantly chew even if you’re chewing on nothing. 

  “Do you like movies?” Anti asked.

  “Uhhh… Yeah.” 

  “Would you care to join me for a movie at my place? It’s perfectly okay if you say no.” 

  That was the second red flag. Or the third? There’s a lot of red flags. 

  No one in their right mind would go to a secondary location when it comes to dealing with a potential criminal. But Chase wasn’t in his right mind, and he said yes. 

  Anti lived in an apartment two floors above Chase’s, which was too close for comfort. At least he had a nearby place to hide if he needed to make a run for it. 

  The apartment was much nicer than Chase’s, just like everything Anti owned. Which raised the question on how Anti afforded all this when the two had virtually the same job. 

  They sat on the couch, Anti scooting up a little too close. “You can pick the movie. Want any popcorn?” 

  “No thanks.” He really wasn’t in the mood to be poisoned tonight. 

  “Well feel free to pop a bag yourself whenever you like.” 

  Chase picked a random movie that turned about to be a really interesting horror movie about a family who believed they were haunted by the ghost of their dead daughter that was shot in the form of a documentary, but Chase couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. 

  Anti’s phone rang in the middle of the scene where the son admits he photoshopped the pictures that showed her ghost because he wanted to give his parents hope. 

  “I have to take this.” Anti said, getting up and going into the kitchen. 

  Chase waited a moment before getting up and pressing his ear to the door. He could only get a few snippets of the conversation.  

  “... I can’t tonight… have you checked… I’ve got other plans… Not my responsibility… Figure it out!... Tell him I said…” He could hear Anti pacing around the room while talking. He couldn’t hear much more through the door and over the sound of the parents figuring out that they’re daughter might’ve been murdered by their neighbor. 

  He could hear Anti huff and start walking back towards the door. Chase rushed to sit back down and look focused on what was going on. 

  Anti came back with that usual grin and took his seat. “Sorry about that. A friend of mind was having some issues.” 

  “It’s okay.” Chase mumbled, checking the time on the wall.

***

9:30. About five and a half hours after Chase’s shift ended and Marvin has been nervous for all 19,800 seconds of that. 

  Every creek of the stairs caused him to jump to his feet. Every notification on his phone caused him to drop whatever he was doing and check on it, even though he knew Chase didn’t have a phone. It was starting to get on Henrik’s nerves, who was trying to see how quickly he could put together a jigsaw puzzle. 

  Marvin wasn’t a paranoid or unreasonable man, so he claimed. He knew that Chase was tougher than he looked, and he could handle himself if he got into trouble. 

  Maybe something came up at work and Chase had to do an unreasonable amount of overtime. Maybe Chase’s boss would give Chase a day off for said overtime and they could spend the day together. Not that Marvin would force Chase to spend his day off helping Marvin unravel a conspiracy.   

  Maybe Chase just had better things to do. He shouldn’t expect Chase to care about this as much as he does. 

  Or maybe Chase was attacked by someone and was currently being kidnapped or bleeding out somewhere with no way to call for help because Marvin smashed his phone. 

  “I can’t take it anymore!” Marvin screamed, causing Henrik to jump to his feet in alarm. 

  “I can’t take this either.” 

  Marvin put on his coat and started up the stairs. “I’m going to check on Chase. You stay here.” 

  “Like hell I am!” Henrik chased after him. 

  “You’ll be recognized almost immediately!”

  “Like you won’t.” 

  Marvin bared his teeth before sighing. He placed his hat on Henrik’s head. “Keep that pulled over your face and stay behind me.”

  They walked quickly, only passing the occasional druggie and late straggler. They snuck past the lady at the front desk of Chase’s apartment building and Marvin let himself into his house. 

  The apartment was clean by Chase’s standards, which were not the same as Marvin’s standards, who kicked an empty soda can around. 

  “Chase!? You home!?” Getting no answer, Marvin walked around the house twice, while Henrik picked up trash.

  “He’s not here!” Marvin said on the verge of panic. 

  “I figured. Do you think he was ever here at all?”

  Marvin looked around the room and thought for a moment. Before he went underground there were things he’d picked up from being around Chase. 

  One, he would turn on the TV and leave it on until he went to bed, and two, he would make a mess of containers on the counter for dinner, but would clear the counter off when he made breakfast in the morning. The TV was off and the counter was clear, so it wasn’t hard to say that Chase hadn’t even made it home today. Which means he was doing an unreasonable amount of overtime, or something horrible was happening. 

  “Shit.” 

  “Tell me about it.” Henrik huffed, shoving junk food wrappers into the trash. 

  “Come on, we need to get out of here. I don’t know where we’re going next.”

[ill-go-with-that-then]

ERASERMIC MODEL AU I SORT OF WROTE

On the erasermic server I'm a part of, we have a thing called Story Time, where people can tell a story to whoever’s around, mostly in real time. This is one I did for @sraye96, who was having a bad day and wanted a model au. 

Shouta hates models. 

Unfortunately, as one of the principle photographers for the country’s fastest-growing fashion magazine, Plus Ultra, dealing with models is one of life’s regular little annoyances, like the subway being too crowded, or his favorite coffee shop running out of cinnamon rolls before he arrives. His agent, Nemuri Kayama, has assured him that this is temporary, a necessary stepping-stone for his career before he can move on to more interesting work, for news and travel magazines. Something real.

But in the meantime, models. They’re not all bad, Shouta supposes. Some are there to do a job, same as him, in and out of his studio with a minimum of fuss. But those are few and far between. For the most part, the models are whiny, demanding, critical, and rude. And the more famous they are, the worse it gets. 

So when Kayama calls him, ecstatic because Hizashi Yamada is on his way to the studio, Shouta genuinely grimaces. Yamada is a rising star, having him on the cover of their magazine will benefit everyone involved, especially Shouta. But he can’t work up any enthusiasm for what’s surely going to be a long, difficult day. 

“What are his demands,” he sighs into the phone. 

“Demands?” Kayama echoes, like she has no idea what he could be talking about. Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to snap at her. 

“You know what I mean. What brand of water do I have to keep perfectly chilled? What zero-calorie snacks should I buy? Am I allowed to talk to him directly? Do I have to look at him through a mirror?”

He can practically hear Kayama roll her eyes. “As a matter of fact, he didn’t say anything about any of that. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be easy to work with? And even if he isn’t, this will be such a boost to our careers that I’ll drive him over some fancy bottled water myself, okay?”

Shouta slumps forward. Kayama isn’t usually the type to embrace a fool’s hope, but he knows that when something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. And if Yamada hasn’t been unreasonable yet, that just means whatever’s to come is going to be all the more unpleasant for it. 

Shouta sets up the studio himself. He could probably have an assistant, if he pushed, but he doesn’t have time to train anyone and after dealing with models all day, his tolerance for bullshit is at a personal low. He’s setting up a light and cursing all of his life-choices, when he hears a soft voice from behind him. “Hey.”

It shouldn’t startle him as much as it does. But he hadn’t heard anyone enter the studio, let alone the irritating entourage that usually accompanies a popular model, so finding himself suddenly not alone shocks him enough that he wobbles on the ladder. His panicked attempt to self-correct just makes things worse, and time slows as he plummets backwards. He only hopes he’ll kill whoever caused this, as well as himself.

But he never hits the ground. A strong pair of arms grabs him beneath the shoulders, holding him steady in the air, his feet still balanced precariously on the ladder’s step. “Whoa! That was a close one!” A voice says, near his ear. Shouta’s heart is pounding too hard for him to reply, so he just blinks helplessly as he feels himself lifted upwards, back into a position that lets him grab hold of the ladder and pull himself the rest of the way standing. 

“Sorry about that!” says the voice, as Shouta quickly climbs back to the safety of the ground. He turns around, not sure whether he’s about to thank whoever it is for saving him, or scream at them for startling him in the first place. 

He ends up doing neither. “Who the hell are you?” he snaps, not sure why this person is in his studio fifteen minutes before anyone is scheduled to arrive. Shouta’s never had a model show up less than thirty minutes late, and someone as famous as Yamada probably won’t be here for hours. So whoever this guy is, he has some explaining to do. 

The guy blinks at him, surprised. “Uh… Hizashi Yamada?”

Shouta looks the guy up and down. His clothes are nice, well put-together, but casual. His hair is tied up in a messy bun, and his glasses are thick and nerdy. He looks more like an IT guy than the type that usually hangs around models, but Shouta supposes he can’t judge. “What, did he send you or something?” 

The guy smiles nervously. He looks awkward. It’s cute. Shouta would think about asking him for coffee, if he weren’t some sort of model groupie. “Uh, no? I mean, I guess? He’s me?”

Shouta stares. The guy smiles a little wider, still looking nervous, and suddenly it’s obvious. Of course this is Hizashi Yamada - the trademark green eyes that Shouta would have bet his camera were photoshopped are blinking at him owlishly from behind the ugly glasses. 

Oh well. It had been a good dream. Shouta hopes that when all this is over he’ll be able to get a job as a department store baby photographer, but he isn’t counting on it. 

“Am I too early?” Yamada says, breaking the silence. 

“Yes.” Shouta speaks by reflex, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from slapping a hand over his mouth. Why, why does he always make things worse. “I mean, I’m still setting up. Don’t you need to do… makeup, or whatever?”

Yamada relaxes slightly. “Yeah, I brought some stuff with me. It’s supposed to be a natural look, right? I can do that myself.”

Shouta raises an eyebrow, too surprised to say anything. If this guy ruins the shoot because he thinks he’s a makeup artist, it’s Shouta who’s going to get the blame. But it’s not like he can argue - he’s in deep enough already. “Whatever. I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.”

Yamada shoots him a thumbs up, hitching the black duffle bag over his shoulder a bit higher and heading towards the dressing area at the back of the studio. Shouta finishes setting up the lights while he’s gone, then eyes the set critically. He’d staged it with a particular look in mind, flashy and modern, not really suitable for the man who’d shown up. Still, with Yamada already here it’s too late to change much. There’s just enough time to switch the backdrop to a warmer color and swap out a few props to make things a little softer. That’s barely done before he hears Yamada walk up behind him. “Good to go? I brought a book if you need more time.”

Shouta searches Yamada’s open expression for any signs of a taunt, and finds none. “We’re good. Make yourself comfortable.”

Yamada does as he’s told, dropping himself down on the set and looking utterly relaxed. “How do you want me?” There’s no hint of flirtation in his tone, but Shouta nearly blushes anyway. 

“These photos are for an interview, right? About you?” Yamada nods. “Okay, then stay casual.” Yamada nods again, leaning back against one of the props and looking thoughtfully at the camera. This is the tricky part. Shouta knows the kind of shots he wants, he just has to figure out how to get them. “Tell me about yourself.”

Yamada smiles a little. The shutter clicks. “That’s a very broad question.” 

“Something dumb,” Shouta clarifies. “Ugliest thing you used to wear in high school.” 

“Okay, wow!” Yamada throws his head back in a laugh. The shutter clicks again. “You’re coming right for me, huh? How do you know I can answer that?”

Shouta hums. “Everyone hates how they dressed in high school. Give it up.”

“You got me,” Yamada grins. “I had a crop top that said Work It in pink sparkles, and I wore it everywhere. Now you answer.”

“My school had uniforms,” Shouta says blandly, snapping a photo of Yamada’s annoyed face. “But outside of school I only wore black.”

Yamada’s face lights up, delighted. “That’s amazing. Did you have an eyeliner phase?”

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that,” Shouta says, taking a few more pictures. 

“Something to look forward to,” Yamada says brightly, and Shouta grins. His shoots are rarely this productive. Usually by now the model would have demanded a cigarette break, or a fizzy water, or some member of their entourage would have broken something. But Yamada is professional, moving here and there whenever Shouta asks him to without a word of complaint, answering all of Shouta’s questions in a way that makes it seem like a conversation, rather than like Shouta is some kind of photograph-producing robot. 

He can see why Yamada’s star is rising so fast. He’s a pleasure to work with, on top of having a face the camera loves. 

After a while, Shouta calls for a break. He flips through what he’s got so far as Yamada walks over, out from under the heat of the lights. 

“Are the photos not good?” Yamada asks, taking in the way Shouta is frowning at his camera. 

“They’re good,” Shouta admits. “But they’re missing something.” Yamada just looks at him, like he’s waiting for Shouta to say more. “This shoot is supposed to show the real you,” Shouta says, not used to someone actually listening to his explanations. “It should be personal. The shots are good, but they’re not deep. It would be better if we could show people who you really are.”

Yamada pauses, considering. “Can I go get something from my car?”

“Sure,” Shouta nods, hoping desperately it’s not going to be drugs. But when Yamada comes back, he’s carrying a guitar case. 

“I love music,” he admits as he opens the case and takes out an acoustic guitar. It’s old and cheap, clearly well-used, and Yamada starts tuning it as he continues. “I never intended to be a model. I wanted to be a musician, or a DJ, something like that.” 

Shouta can’t resist quietly taking a few pictures, not wanting to interrupt. Yamada looks so different like this, softer, happier. More like himself. The crumbling brick wall of the studio is a better backdrop for this than Shouta’s flashy set. “There’s still time,” Shouta says, hoping the lighting by the window is good enough that he can capture the wryness of Yamada’s smile. 

“Sure,” Yamada shrugs, fingers brushing over the guitar strings. “Should I get back on the set?”

Shouta shakes his head, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Play something. Whatever you like best.”

Yamada smiles, leaning back against the wall and strumming a chord. Then he starts playing in earnest, fingers flying over the strings, some complicated piece of music filling the air. He’s good, far better than Shouta expected, and for a moment he’s so distracted by the music that he forgets what he’s there to do. But only for a moment. As good as the music sounds, Shouta is a visual person, and the peaceful, pleased expression on Yamada’s face is the stuff photographer dreams are made of. Shouta does his best to capture it, swapping out filters as subtly as he can, not wanting to be a distraction. 

Eventually, the song ends, and Yamada looks up, surprised. Like he’d forgotten where he was, who he was playing for. Shouta captures that, too. “Was that okay?” Yamada asks, tentative for the first time since he’d arrived. 

“Let’s see,” Shouta says, walking over to his laptop. He plugs the camera in, downloading the photos quickly. He can hear Yamada walk up behind him, and though his personal policy is to never let the models see any photos before he’s retouched them, Shouta will make an exception this time. 

Yamada breathes out, like a sigh of relief. “These are really good.”

He’s right. As rough as they are, Shouta can already tell they���ll be excellent, probably the best photos of his career so far. The light from the window is perfect, illuminating Yamada from the side, making him look ethereal, but the rough bricks behind him keep him approachable. The only way to describe his expression is content, and there’s absolutely nothing fake about it. It’s real. 

“Yeah,” Shouta nods. “I think we got it.” Surprisingly, he feels a flutter of disappointment. For once, he wishes the shoot had dragged on a bit longer. He probably won’t get the chance to work with Yamada again. 

“You’re really talented,” Yamada says, still looking at the screen. “I usually can’t stand pictures of myself, but these are… I like these.” He looks up at Shouta, smiling. “Can I steal you? Make you my personal photographer? I’m told everyone has a price.”

Shouta hesitates. It wasn’t a flirtation, necessarily. And getting involved with models is a bad idea, the worst thing you can do in this business, but-

But if he lets Yamada walk out that door, he’s going to regret it forever. “I like coffee.”

Yamada’s smile widens, blooms over his features, pretty enough that Shouta wishes he was still holding his camera. “Don’t sell yourself short, hold out for dinner at least.” 

“Dinner then.” Shouta can’t stop the corners of his lips from quirking up, ruining the his casual tone. “With further negotiations to follow.”

“I like the sound of that,” Yamada grins. 

[thepurplebutterflythings]

We’re Grown-Ups, Aren’t We? - Jason Todd

Gif: Unknown on Tenor

Word Count: 2.1K

Paring: Jason Todd x (f)Reader

Summary: Bruce sends Y/N and Jason on a job and books them a room in a fancy five-star establishment. One problem, he was supposed to book two rooms and only booked one room, with one bed.

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

Requested: @gaeck-o

Tagging: @bella-0104-123

________________________________________________________________

Bruce Wayne, Billionaire Play-Boy, Batman, Symbol of Gotham, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a brilliant businessman, was a complete and utter idiot. All the man had to do was book two rooms in the hotel were Y/N and Jason had to stay in while in Detroit to visit Dick Grayson, but he somehow only booked one, and it wasn’t as if he could afford two rooms, he could get every room in the god-damn hotel if he wanted, Bruce had just simply forgotten he was sending two people on this trip.

“No, no, no,” Y/N said, putting her hands on the receptionist’s desk and leaning forward into the receptionist’s space. The receptionist, a prim and proper looking woman with rectangular glasses perched neatly onto her nose and holding a fancy looking pen, leaned backwards and gave Y/N a disapproving look. The hotel establishment that she and Jason found themselves in was fancy, in fact, fancy was an understatement – aristocratic was perhaps more accurate. The pair of them stuck out like a sore thumb, Jason in his dusty jeans and messy hair and Y/N in a worn-out leather jacket and scruffy trainers, and both of them were incredibly tired from the journey that brought them from Gotham to Detroit. “There should be two rooms under ‘Wayne’, not one.”

“I’m sorry, Mam’, but the computer says there is only one room under the name ‘Wayne’, and the system doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Well, this time it has,” Jason spoke up, rubbing his temple. “Bruce wouldn’t make the mistake of booking one room.”

“Is there any other rooms available?”

“No.”

“Seriously?” Jason groaned.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sir,” the receptionist said, clearly sick of them bothering her, “do you want the room or not?”

“Fine, we’ll take it,” Y/N sighed, grabbing her back and turning to Jason, “we’ll figure something out when we get up there.”

“Alright,” Jason nodded as he grabbed his bag. Y/N took the room key from the receptionist and nodded in thanks.

________________________________________________________________

The room was incredible, there was no doubt about that. Everything was in shades of cream and gold with mahogany wood. The moment Jason and Y/N walked into the room, they dropped their bags and looked around the room in shock.

“My apartment could fit in this ten times over!” Y/N said in awe.

“How is all of this for one person?”

“The Rich are indulgent – we work for Bruce Wayne, we should know that by now,” Y/N turned to Jason, “Dumbass had a dining room he never went in until we came along.”

“It’s still just strange to see,” Jason shrugged, “come on, neither of us had the most easy-going of upbringings.”

Jason was right. Neither himself nor Y/N were as gifted as Bruce with finance when they were growing up and it showed in moments when together. Now the most normal middle class of people would also have the same reaction as Jason and Y/N when seeing the extravagant room they were gifted with, but when they were out eating and shoved a few bread rolls in their pockets, when no one was looking it, was because of that deep-rooted fear that they grew up with not knowing if or when they would be eating again.

“Point taken…” Y/N mumbled, “but that’s very different from a golden clawed bathtub,” she said gesturing into the bathroom where the bathtub in question stood.

“That’s true,” Jason nodded, throwing his bag on the sofa. It was white, fabric, and not made to be comfy, but solely for aesthetic. “I gotta go find Grayson, reckon you’ll be alright here for a while?”

“It’s basically a palace in a five-star hotel and Bruce is paying the bill,” Y/N turned to Jason and folded her arms with the cock of an eyebrow, “I’m taking this as a chance to see how much I can rack up before we gotta leave.”

“I’ll join in on it when I get back,” Jason said as he grabbed his case that held his Robin suit and went to the door, “see ya!”

“Bye!”

________________________________________________________________

Y/N certainly took advantage of Bruce paying and ordered essentially everything on room service. The staff had to bring three rolling trollies up to the room. Lobster, steak, caviar and everything else you could imagine. She sat on the bed with the TV on and tore into everything in reaching distance.

“Oh my god,” Jason said opening the door, his jaw-dropping at the sight of all the food, “I left you alone for a day, Y/N/N, and you… what? Cleared out the kitchen?”

“I said it was a challenge, and I meant it!” Y/N shifted over to make space for Jason, who put his case down and pulled his sweater off before jumping next to her on the bed, “Salmon or Crab?”

“Salmon,” Jason said as Y/N handed him the platter with the smoked salmon on. “Bruce is going to kill you for this,” he said as he pushed the salmon into his mouth.

“ME?” Y/N scoffed, “you’ve got a mouthful $108 worth of salmon.”

“Fine, us,” Jason corrected. “But it’s worth it!”

“Damn right,” Y/N nodded as she grabbed the champagne bottle and two glasses, pouring them each a glass. She handed Jason his glass and they clinked them before downing the liquid in one. Jason lowered his glass and looked at their surroundings.

“Be honest with me, how much money is all this?”

“No fucking clue!” Y/N frowned and looked at it all, “Should we be worried?”

“I think we’re way beyond being worried now.”

“Fair play.”

________________________________________________________________

Food cleared up and taken away, Y/N and Jason started to get ready for bed. Y/N changed in the bathroom and by the time she exited, Jason was also in his pyjamas – tracksuit bottoms and no top. It made Y/N blush to see Jason shirtless, how she hadn’t realized that of course, Jason’s physique would be beyond incredible is ridiculous! The first thing Y/N thought when she saw Jason was that scene in ‘Crazy, Stupid Love’ with Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling, where Ryan’s character whips his shirt off to reveal an outrageously ripped body and Emma’s character goes “FUCK! Are you photoshopped?” or something to that effect. That was how Y/N felt gawking at Jason’s chest, she felt like Emma Stone and that he was Ryan Gosling.

“You alright, Y/N/N?” Jason said as he realized Y/N standing there in her pyjama’s staring at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N nodded with a cough as she folded her arms across her chest and looked around her. She suddenly wished she packed nicer pyjamas, and then she cursed herself for thinking that, but the pyjama’s she was wearing were her ‘At Home Clothes’ – clothes to be worn when no one else was around, like what that comedian Iliza Shlesinger talked about in her stand-up; holes in them, stains, and, in Y/N’s case, about a size or so too big for her. It wasn’t the outfit she wanted to be seen in after realizing how hot her friend was, why couldn’t she dress like a god-damn Victoria Secret Model when going to bed? She felt silly, like a little girl dressed in grown-up clothing pretending to be an adult.

“I’ll take the sofa,” Jason muttered as he walked to the sofa which would almost certainly play his back up.

“Why?” Y/N asked as Jason stopped in his tracks and looked at Y/N.

“Cause there’s only one bed.”

“It’s a king-size,” Y/N told him, “We could sleep on opposite sides and still have enough room for two to three more people.”

“But... wouldn’t you feel awkward?”

“Jason, we’re grown up’s, aren’t we?”

“I’d find that more believable if you hadn’t gone total ‘Home Alone Lost in New York’ on the room service.”

“We can share a bed without anything happening between us.” Y/N said as she pulled the sheets of the bed back and climbed in herself, patting the free spot for Jason to take. Jason bit his lip and nodded before getting in the bed as well.

They both looked at each other and smiled a strained smile before laying down and staring at the high, white ceiling. It was silent, only the noise of Y/N and Jason breathing filled the air. They certainly weren’t sleeping in Gotham anymore, where the normal lullaby for a baby was the endless wail of sirens, police or otherwise. No noise outside seemed unnerving to them both, any small creak or groan made by the old building could be heard. They both tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until Jason sighed, sat up and turned on the table lamp, causing Y/N to squint at the brightness and turn on her side to face Jason, who laid down and faced her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I can’t sleep like this!”

“Me neither,” Y/N assured him, “it’s too… strange.”

“Normal,” Jason said, “this is how normal people not in Gotham sleep – in silence. Why can’t we?”

“Cause we’re from Gotham like you said.” Y/N sighed as she pulled the quilt up a little more to fight off the night chill, “come on, look at Gotham – we’ve got psycho clowns, exploding clockwork penguins and an asylum that criminal lunatics always seem to be breaking out of yet no one thinks to up security on – and we wonder why tourism isn’t booming!”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason nodded against his pillow, “do you sometimes wonder if you could leave it all behind?” He asked her, “Leave Gotham and be normal.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N confessed, “Those from Gotham just seem to be bred different from the rest of the world – we’re bred to survive the worst of the worst, I don’t think we could survive anywhere else, we’re not meant to, I think we’re meant to stay in Gotham, whether we want it or not.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, look at Bruce – the guy could have an easy life, go wherever he wants, but he doesn’t, he can’t, he’s from Gotham, and he can’t leave it behind, like us, and he’s survived the worst of the worst; his parents, Joker, Riddler, Penguin, whatever villain you can think of in Gotham, Bruce has survived them – more than once. He couldn’t leave it behind if he wanted to.”

“Could you?” Jason asked her. Y/N frowned and thought for a moment, could she really leave Gotham? Her home? Gotham wasn’t the nicest of places to live, it was hell on earth in some sense, but she was born in that city, she grew up in that city, all she knew was that city, and it was hard, no doubt about it, but she found her purpose in it all – Y/N’s purpose was to help Jason and Bruce. She sat in the Batcave with Alfred and worked on the tech they used, checked CCTV and police radio and talked to them over coms. It was nice, and she knew that she couldn’t leave it behind, especially if that meant leaving the three men in her life who had become her family. Y/N never wanted to leave them, especially Jason.

“No, I don’t think I could,” Y/N shook her head, “you?”

“I think I’m meant to be in Gotham and fight crime with Bruce with the help from you and Alfred,” Jason said quietly, “I couldn’t leave. I don’t want to leave. Gotham… it’s more than a city… Gotham is my purpose.”

“I know what you mean,” Y/N smiled in reassurance. “I couldn’t leave what I do now, working with you, Alfred and Bruce… it means the world to me. I love it. If I had to do everything again, I’d do it all the same.”

“Me too,” Jason leaned across and brushed the hair out of Y/N’s eyes that had fallen in front of them “my life is better for knowing you.”

“And my life is better for knowing you,” Y/N said in a small voice before shifting closer. She looked at Jason with large eyes, silently asking him to kiss her, kiss her breathlessly, kiss her like she had never been kissed before. Jason’s hand moved to her cheek and he leaned in, catching her lips in his own, moving his hands, both of them, to her waist and pulling her close to him. Jason did exactly what Y/N asked of him. He kissed her. He kissed her breathlessly like she had never been kissed before. When they pulled apart, Jason let out a small little chuckle.

“Thought you said we were grown up enough to share a bed without something happening.”

“Well, I was wrong, weren’t I?”

“Definitely.”

“Regret it?”

“Not one bit. You?”

“God no, now make me yours, Jason Todd.”

[cagedchoice]

Name any three things about the rpc that bother you.

( the be honest meme. )

probably the biggest thing that bothers me is the general lack of willingness to communicate that sometimes exists?? obviously not everybody does this and i’ve been very fortunate not to have experienced it very often, but when it does happen, oof. i’m mostly talking about things like ghosting people instead of politely declining to write with them or like. those confession blogs that get a lot of submissions that are just passive-aggressive burns directed at one partner of theirs in particular that's like ‘you’re only using me for our ship and i feel like i don't matter outside of that at all’ and such. things that should definitely be brought up privately with that partner so they can either be given a chance to change their ways or you can be sure to let them go. it’s okay to say no, and to set boundaries or say ‘hey i’m not feeling up to this/i would rather not do that right now’. i just can’t really think of any reason why someone wouldn’t want to be honest with their rp partners. disposing of healthy communication for things that are just going to cause anxiety. we go full circle here and in an attempt to avoid hurting anyone or getting hurt back, we hurt more than just talking probably would've done.

second, i definitely don’t mind every blog that fits newer aesthetic trends, but i really do not like those blogs that are like. super fancy photoshopped custom made theme bg ones that are maybe 1% ic/metas/content relating to their character in any way, and 99% everything else under the sun. Not saying anything like ‘oh they’re less dedicated than others’ or anything to imply that people who put effort into maintaining a certain blog aesthetic are lesser, bc that’s definitely not true. but i just. have had a few too many bad experiences with the type of muns who will, say, put hours and hours of effort into coding a fully customized theme and a coordinating google doc and making sure all their icons and banners and edits match and after all that, their blog will be active for maybe a week before burning out completely where they wipe themselves of any desire to keep playing that character before they move on to the next big thing. and i’ve sort of done this before myself. the only thing i didn't do was spend hours on a theme bc instead a friend made one for me as a gift. but i’ve been in a position where i tried to keep up a certain trend because even though i wasn't really doing anything to prove i could write, lots of people would see my blog and go ‘oh now that's a quality blog right there’ and it wore me down so much that i ditched that blog. and i thought it sucked, i can't even imagine how that made some of my writing partners feel at the time.

aand boy i had to really wrack my brain to think about a third thing that bothers me after the tangent i went on for the last 2 uhh i’d have to say i am not a fan those sorts of validation memes that are like ‘reblog/send a __ if you actually like my blog’ or popular blog rating memes. i don't vibe with 'em, bc once again, i’m guilty of overusing them in the past to try and fit in and follow trends and get a nearly constant stream of validation going. i can tell you right now it does nooot pay off in the way i used to believe it would. so anymore i’m just like. if you’re still following my blog i am going to assume that means you like it and that's my sense of validation for the day sdjgkdjghs

[mividaeslimones]

Note 02: Name Change 📄

Everything is moving 1000% faster than I anticipated... Monday I’ll take in my stuff and within 4-6 weeks it will be official, which means I can start on changing my social security number and gender marker. And I know, some folks would be sprinting to the clerk’s office for an opportunity like this, but I need time to process and unpack my baggage.

I spent years looking through myself, rather than at myself like a person. If I got dressed or put on makeup, I went at the task like I would a painting in Photoshop. Which meant I was just looking at myself like a task, and not even a fun one. I was set on not plotting out any action or anything, unless I could be sure it was obtainable. I had planned to be numb and miserable at one point. So  a new name was just out of the question (until 2017), because I thought for the longest time I just couldn’t. What I did instead was set up mile markers, little things I could do paperwork or academically that would bring me closer to my goal. If I didn’t make it by a certain year, I would abandon it. But in 2017 I adopted my first name, not outright, but in my mind and within the confines of scraps of paper and social media. It was a small victory, but some part of me still didn’t believe I could get testosterone. I was wrapped up in the impression this was not only unacceptable, but a dirty and disgraceful thing (due to certain family members and coworkers). At one point I genuinely thought I could never ever get a hold of it because of insurance or state laws, without even looking into either.

But I was wrong, and I couldn’t have been more wrong. I was so amped-up and anxious when I walked into the Transgender Resource Center of New Mexico. I couldn’t be anything but wide eyed as I repeated okay over and over. When I got the packet of forms I went at it like anything else, until I had to really look at it. I was suddenly trying to sort of what they were asking on which line. Does the state want my legal name or do they want my new name? And it hit me, it really hit me, this is it, I’m finally doing it. There is no more shoving things downs and pretending. It’s in this moment I’m absolutely terrified. I had to pull myself together a couple of times, because I didn’t want to fall apart in front of a room full of strangers. We just don’t do that kind of thing in my family, we are ever fervent students within the school of stoicism...  

So I marked the pages I was unsure of with sticky notes and kept it moving until I could get verification. But the feeling was still there, it practically screamed at me from the other side of the ottoman with its best Corey Taylor impression. As I double checked each form, and the feeling raged, I couldn’t shake a lesson from my early psych classes. Almost every teacher I’ve had who taught psych in some shape or form always found a way to sneak in Seligman's learned helplessness theory... 

What this theory boils down to is, when a person feels helpless to avoid something negative (due to previous experience) they lay down and accept it, even if by doing so they’re causing more damage, or pain to them self in the long run. Martin Seligman and his associates were working with the concept of classical conditioning. Which is just a fancy way of saying a person or animal associates one event/thing with something else. With this particular case it was the sound of a bell and an electric shock to a dog. The dog would come to associate the bell with the shock, to the point all Seligman had to do was ring the bell to get the dog to lay down. Why did it lay down? Because this was the best way to mitigate the effect of the shock. When the dog was put into a crate that it could both jump out of and avoid the shock, it did something peculiar. It laid down to avoid the shock rather than jump out to get away. My teachers always emphasized the team had to pull the poor pooch out because it was convinced there was no other way. So Seligman called it learned helplessness, aka the act of not trying to get out of harm’s way...

But I did get out, it took me years to get here... I went home with my paperwork and held in a primal scream the entire way. I was teary eyed by the time I got in and did what I needed to do (walk my doggo, etc). Later on I picked up some of the worst vegan burgers I’ve ever had in an attempt to eat my feeling. lol And I’m relieved, there’s a lightness to my shoulders. Before I hop off I want to stress my name causes me no dysphoria, I don’t hate it either. It just doesn’t feel like mine. It’s the ugly shirt I was handed down from another relative, and I’ve never felt attached to it. I tried my entire life to modify it, dress it up, and make it mine by butchering it. Nothing I did to it could make it real for me... If someone dead names me in the future either out of ill will or accident, I won’t feel bad or anything, because it’s just something that exists outside of me. 

[scullydubois]

thoughts on Sanguinarium (4x06)

Written by Valerie & Vivian Mayhew 

Directed by Kim Manners

Aesthetic surgery unit.. that’s a fancy term for plastic surgery

This noise is freaking disgusting, not to mention he’s like killing this guy

That close-up was so cheesy

Have Mulder and Scully gained so much acclaim that a weird ass case like this falls into the X Files?

This episode was written by TWO women! One point for the feminist agenda!

Satan? In this hospital?

The music is doing its job- Mark Snow never disappoints

Um…

Scully’s earrings are cute

The word witchcraft is being thrown around...two points for the feminist agenda!

Good lord…

The nurse is definitely involved in this sorcery

Pffft Mulder’s ready to go under the knife for that nose of his

Scully’s just not gonna comment on him Photoshopping his nose...she’s learned

A female villain...three points for the feminist agenda!

Is...is that allowed

*looks at broom* “Probable cause”

I’ve been waiting for a proper witchcraft episode, so this is making my heart happy

The faucet dripping blood is a rad image

I’m surprised I haven’t seen something like this in a horror movie before...probably I just don’t watch enough of them

Are those needles that she swallowed? Or what?

The use of police lights to light the scene is a cool choice

Witchcraft! Witchcraft! Witchcraft!

How cool is this?

But also, is the doctor is a witch as well?

Mulder, stop fantasizing about plastic surgery

Mulder would steal a book about witchcraft...and solve the case with it

“I’m beginning to understand why a man becomes a conservative.”

Why the fuck am I seeing this

All this talk about witchcraft has me missing Melissa Scully

How in the world did Mulder figure out to use the computer program to transform the supposedly dead doctor into one of the living ones

Blood sacrifice...whee

“Everybody wants to be beautiful, Scully”

Only Mulder understands the plight of the unattractive...no shade intended, ILY Fox Mulder

This pentagram has the names of the victims...creepy

This has to be one of the grossest, most terrifying things to happen on the show thus far imo

What in the absolute hell

He’s got a new face…good for him I guess

So Mulder and Scully didn’t really solve anything, but it be like that sometimes

Consensus: This episode was like one big point for the feminist agenda. Okay, so I’m exaggerating about that, but overall I thought it was a solid mess of creepy, gross, and intriguing.

3.5 out of 5 stars

[peachydyoung]

money talks | k.dy (m)

— genre ➙  sugardaddy!au + smut + angst — words ➙ 8k i love writing doyoung please kill me — member ➙ kim dongyoung — warnings ➙ graphic smut, dirty talk, rough sex, softdom!doyoung + sub!reader, oral sex, fingering + strong language + inappropriate scenario // 2 smuts in one

The owner of a multi-billion dollar company plans to invest in your career for a small price. He gives you one rule... Don’t get attached.

↳ 01 completed

— ⚠️ DISCLAIMER⚠️ ➙  This contains a very problematic scenario. I personally do not advocate for this, and please know that this is writing, a story with an intriguing topic to read about, not to act upon. Each fic will have their own set of warnings, look at them and evaluate if they are for you. My intention is not to offend, or trigger anybody, I am here to entertain you and exercise my passion as a writer. a/n here’s a nice long doyoung smut, 2 sex scenes cause there is never enough and doyoung my bias. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” A dark-haired, broad-shouldered man smiled, raising his wine glass in front of him. His penetrating eyes and gummy smile made you unconsciously lift yours. Although it was your first time at this party, you wondered why you hadn’t seen him earlier. He was senselessly gorgeous.

You were insecure under his stare, he stood there in front of you with his fancy suit and handsome face. The only dresses you could afford were the ones from forever 21. And even then it was still a little much. Nonetheless, you could always manage to make five dollars look like hundred.

“Uh, yeah, I’m a plus one,” you said apprehensively, but the man seemed to catch on to it. Taeyong had brought you along and asked that you mingle to make more connections. He noticed that you were becoming more and more insecure about your photography with every new job that turned you down.

“Mmm,” He hummed, taking a sip of his wine and letting his eyes rake over your body. “So you’re here with a man? Women? By yourself?” He was easy on the eyes, especially wearing an expensive black suit and being in his mid or late twenties.

“My friend… you might know him, his name is Taeyong. He’s pretty popular amongst the mainstream dancing thing. He has a lot of friends.” His eyes widened comically, a big smile playing on his youthful skin as he let out a laugh. You didn’t wanna be here at all, but you knew coming here meant photography connections and you needed that before college ended.

“Me and Taeyong? We go way back,” He said grinning as if he was reliving a past memory. “Can I?” he gestured to the open chair next to you, his smile making you say yes to anything he could have asked.

“Yeah of course!” You adjusted your body to look more presentable. With a nod, he sat on the stool next to you, placing his glass on the counter of the fancy bar and drumming his fingers on the granite counter.

“So…has no other man come to talk to you yet?” Your cheeks were blanketed in a red sheer glow as he asked the question. To answer his question, no, nobody had come to talk to you. You either scared them away or were a ghost to the rich and snobby crowd.  “I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable it’s just a question a man has when they see a beautiful woman sitting alone—I’m Doyoung by the way, Kim Dongyoung.” He had manners too, something you liked in a guy. And this one wasn’t a frat boy, he was a real man with a job.

“I’m Y/N, and no, nobody has.” The beginnings of a smirk were present on his small lips. His answer didn’t shock him,  he knew that you would be his by the end of the night. “And if you’re wondering, I don’t have a boyfriend either,” You added on playfully, earning a chuckle.  He sipped his drink, mischievous twinkling in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.” A smile illuminated his face, he looked down, something about it was bittersweet. “So what do you do?” He asked. “What do you do to make a life for yourself.”

“Photographer, I’m a photographer.” He nodded. “I uh, I’m going to college right now majoring in photography, which is going very well. I want to break into high fashion photography for models, especially nude shoots, those are always fun.” He laughed, it was deep, low, and genuine. “It’ll never happen though, should've become a dentist like my mom suggested.” You paused momentarily, holding eye contact with the man. His eyes were dark, narrow, and discerning.  “Fine art photography is my backup, but it’s even harder to make a name for yourself. Photography is hard to break into now, you know.” You laughed awkwardly. “Part-time jobs are my income and will continue to be that way.”

“Consider yourself lucky. At Least you’re doing something you love. Do you know how many people have money and office jobs and hate it… a lot, I’ll tell you that much.” You guessed he was right, he looked rich enough to make the assumption. “ If photography truly makes you happy, pursuing it is the only way to go. We live most of our lives in work anyways,, don’t play dentist because your mom said so. Novelty wears off.”

“And are you happy?” You tilted your head, earning a silent laugh from him.

“Do you know who I am?” He inquired, looking more and more smug by the minute. “Never heard of KDY Enterprises? Or Entertainment?.” You were ashamed of not knowing, nodding your head no shyly. He didn’t seem to mind, he actually looked a little… happy?

“So you have money? And an office job?” He was hesitant to answer you but decided to say it anyway.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“So, tell me first hand, do you hate your job, does the novelty of money wear off?” He cocked his head to the side, his tongue poking from his cheek as he swallowed your playful retort.

“You know what people don’t know?” He asked, setting down his drink and narrowing his eyes at you. “I might have a busy job, but money never gets old. Despite what people think, I can buy happiness.”

“Sure you can. You can buy food, mattresses, houses, plane tickets, all of which that would make one happy, me included. But what’s the point of buying a house when it’s empty? You can have a bag of groceries, but you won’t finish all the food. Mattresses get cold when one side is slept on more than the other.”

A shaky sigh left his lips, you guessed that nobody had really talked to him like this, after all, he was the CEO of his own company. “My penthouse is pretty empty,” He shrugged, ogling you. “My bed’s cold as well.” A sly smirk found its way to his face. “I like sharing. With my friends… family...charity.” You chuckled at him, sipping wine from your own glass.

“I know people in the fashion business, I know models, I know photographers.” You knew a business opportunity when you saw one, you cocked your eyebrow and looked at him through hooded eyes.

“I don’t follow.” You looked everywhere but him, at the ceiling, at the ground, just left of his head. You even spotted Taeyong talking to some girl. But you were too nervous to look at him, too nervous to hear what he would propose.

“Because I’m lonely and rich as you so kindly pointed out,” He retorted. “Why don’t I help you with your photography dream. And If you’re so willing we can even share a  bed.” You started at him, watching as he got up from his chair and stepping in front of you.

“And how did you intend on doing that?”

“Sweetheart, come with me and let me show you.”

With his arm outstretched and his hand offered. You took it, not knowing you made a deal with the devil.

A year later

Your eyes hurt and were dry from keeping them open. Your photoshop was broken, and you couldn't email the photos without your computer shutting down. No matter how hard you tried none of your photographs were looking the way you’d imagine them to turn out like. Fine art photography wasn’t supposed to be forced, but you’ve been in a rut for at least a month.

It wasn’t always like this. Your creativity would be bursting at the seams when he was there. Everything seemed to be going right when Doyoung showed up. When he was gone it was like you were living your days in an endless loop of loneliness and fame. The world went on without you, life passed you. It was when you were with Doyoung that you could catch up to it again. Without him, you were stuck, life stopped.

Doyoung offered you an easy out of your part time jobs with mediocre pay and wage times. He introduced you to a world of magic and wealth. Although you were skeptical at first, you had no choice but to agree, there was no way you could get through college and then get a decent job. College at that point was getting pretty shitty with all its stressful exams, and you needed a way out. And there was your opportunity.

Of course, there were rules you were to follow religiously. If you were to break any of them you don't know what Doyoung would do to you, he could be super creative at times. Regardless, you followed them because you were grateful for all he did for you, not just because he told you too.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that he had other girls spread across the world waiting to be fucked just like you were. They were probably held up in a penthouse just like you. But you didn’t ask questions, you didn’t care. You broke rule number, don’t get too attached. And that was the first mistake you made with your dangerous life with Doyoung.

You shut your laptop and groaned, pulling the instant noodles you made earlier towards you. You took a spoonful of the now cold and mushy noodles. You had been able to pay back Doyoung the million dollars he gave you to start your photography career and made nearly 20 times more. Yet you still stayed and ate less than mediocre food. Bad habits never change.

“This is fucking disgusting,” you muttered to yourself, snatching the cup of noodles up in your hand and sauntering over to the kitchen.

The house was pretty minimalistic. It was mostly all white with black furniture, cool toned things and such. It was all open concept, the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Every countertop was white quartz, every cabinet war of the highest quality wood, you lived lavishly.

You opened the trash can and threw the mushy noodles in. Doyoung had promised to bring you dinner that night, and as the clock struck closer and closer to twelve you knew it was a lost cause. And instead of calling, you turned into a muttering mess. “Doyoung, when you come back I’m gonna fucking kill you for making me wait—”

“Now baby,” a familiar voice cut through the air behind you. “You’re not actually planning on doing something  stupid, right?”

The familiar sight of his white button-down shirt came into vision. It was a nice sense of normalcy when you saw him sweaty after work,  his white shirt clinging to his skin. It made you feel like one of those conventional couples, the ones where the wife greets the husband when he gets back from work.

He dropped his briefcase on the ground and lean up on the counter across from you.

“Fuck you.” He pretended to look shocked from what you had said, but to be frank, this whole month you had been giving him attitude and you yourself didn’t even know why. This doesn't surprise him.

“Cute,” he remarked. “It wouldn't be the first time I have.” You had become so comfortable with him in the year you knew him. But as you grew comfortable,  his slide remarks didn’t turn you on like they used to, his broken promises actually hurt, the relationship actually meant something to you. And you didn’t know if any of those things mattered to him ” I wonder  when  you’ll  learn to behave and not disobey me.” He ran his finger through his black hair and smirked. “I’m in need of a destresser.”

“You have other whores for tha—”

“Aren’t you brave tonight?” He raised his voice at you. “Like I said.” He pronounced each word clearly and loud. “I’m stressed and I missed you. I’ll dismiss the fact that you just said that to me as well.” He looked around the kitchen, finally locking eyes with you. “You should be happy I’m here, I’m a busy man you know.”

“Oh my god, thank you Doyoung for gracing me with your presence that wasn’t even spontaneous, it was promised!  Better yet! Thank you for being five hours late!” You never really got mad at him, even now the anger wasn’t at its breaking point, but this month things started to change.

“I don’t understand why you have to be so rude. You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”

You narrowed your eyes at your employer, finally a real anger brewing inside of you for all that he put you through. He sensed that, and despite his usual half-assed sorries, he pulled one out of his ass and made it sound even a little real. “I’m sorry Y/N. What can I do to make it up to you? Money? Jewelry? You name it. ” You were fully prepared to make an escape to your room and not see him for a couple of more months. You walked away.

“Y/N, don’t leave—” But you were already walking, walking, and walking away. “Y/N stop walking…  stop now.”

If it hadn’t been for how scary his voice was when he yelled, you might’ve not stopped, but maybe a part of you still would’ve.

“Get the fuck over here, right fucking now.” His voice was deep when he shouted, it was scary. In that moment you knew you were gonna fuck him, from the moment you saw him you knew.

“Why don’t you get the fuck over here, since you miss me so bad.” You turned around and looked at him. He was still leaning on the counter, staring at you. He reluctantly got up with a huff and paraded over meeting you at the dining table. His hand cupped your cheek while his other brushed some stray hair away from your face, pulling your face up. 

“Who do you think you are?” He said just above a whisper. “I don’t like fucking attitude,” he spat at you. “You should remember how you acted when you first got her, cause you weren’t like this.”

This was the fourth time he’d visited that week. Each time he came he was more stressed than the last, and you were becoming more reluctant as the days went on. It was one of the longest times he came. 

You wondered wh yourself was giving him attitude, he was generally a nice person with good intentions and you could tell that this was hurting him. But he was hurting you, he was always hurting you. Maybe the attitude would compensate for the fact that you actually had feelings for the man and pushing him away would help in the long run. “Bedroom, princess.”

He was right behind you quickly heading into the master bedroom like he was your parent tucking you to bed at night. You hated when he did that. He pushed you down on the bed roughly, letting you get enough time in to look up at him. He ripped the buttons of his button shirt open so hard you heard the little sounds of beads falling on the ground. He pulled down his pants so quickly you thought you heard a tear.

Faster than a heartbeat, his lips were pushed against yours feverishly. Doyoung always kissed rough and quick, always being careful of not kissing you too long so you never got the wrong idea. He was pulling on the hem of your shirt, leaving a trail of warm kisses down your neck as he struggled to pull it off your body.

Doyoung was everything you needed in bed. He was confident, caring, rough, and surprisingly exciting. Once he had pulled you top off, he was pulling down your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind him and chuckling. He ground his hips against yours. Enough to get you wet and leave your juices on soaking your panties.

Despite what people thought Doyoung's lips were soft and warm, not cold at all like the media portrayed. He was warm and inviting. So as he kissed you, you let your hands knot in the roots of his hair and pull.

He sighed pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth, a moaning. Your hips rocked against his, creating more and more friction for the both of you. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling the panties down on the right side. It was the fourth time this week his body was on top of yours, and you loved it.

“Doyoung—”

“Sweetheart you lost the right to talk,” He hummed, pulling your panties down and teasing your slit. He looked down at your pink pussy and intricately pleasured you, making you gasp. He was always in charge—always. He was the one that would leave you thoroughly fucked or in a crumpled up mess waiting to be. That was the way it was, and you liked the high stakes. A suppressed moan fell from your lips and was caught in his when he pushed the pad of his thumb on your clit.

“You can moan baby, I won’t stop you from doing that, ” He snickered, feeling your wetness gather up around your clit and entrance.

“You’re already dripping.” He smiled against your mouth than peppering kisses down your neck in sloppy unorganized kisses.

Without warning, he pushed a finger inside you, and you tried hard to suppress the scream that crawled at the back of your throat. Normally Doyoung liked to rile you up, he thrust his long fingers in and out of your pussy, in a search for your sweet spot. When he curled his fingers, he found it, rubbing it gently to push you over.

“Doyoung.“ He pushed his lips onto yours again roughly, surely leaving a bruise from how hard. All you heard were your muffled screams as his fingers were buried deep inside your pussy. You arch your back into him, letting your tits cover his bare chest.

“Baby I’m want to fuck you so bad now.”

Doyoung wasn’t the longest, but he fit you, he fit you better than a lot of men could and he knew how to fuck. You could see the outline of his member through his white tenting boxer shorts. He was painfully hard, he palmed himself through his boxers and groaned.

“Let me,” You sat up,  reaching out towards his boxers pulling them down steadily. He let you, watching the excitement in your eyes as his cock sprung free from his boxers. But he pushed your hands away.

“Let me be inside of you right now.” Doyoung was so incredibly gentle with you, no matter how many times you saw him in bare skin it excited you. Even when he was rough, he always found a way to make you feel okay, and you hated that he shared that with other girls.

“But I—”

“Please baby, please.” He spread your legs slowly across the bed, peeling each leg from the other to accommodate for his lanky body. This wasn’t how he usually liked to fuck you, he was normally rough, very rough. Him skipping a blow job, using a gentle touch, not calling you names was weird for you. Nonetheless, you didn’t object to it. No matter how you felt, one thing remained certain. You wanted him.

On his knees, he stroked himself, spitting on his hand and beginning to pump his shaft slowly with one hand. He lined himself up, slowly beginning to lay down on top of you. Within seconds he entered you in one hard thrust that made you moan out in pleasure. You never got over how well he fit inside you. Your friends would always talk about how their boyfriend had the biggest cock, but you doubted the notion that they pleasured them well or even at all. With Doyoung, every flaw you both had, everything about you two fit together, he knew what you wanted and made sure to give it to you. And you were sad to say that you felt at home with the whore hoarding CEO.  

“God, you always feel so good,” He hissed, his face falling into your neck and a loud muffled groan drop from his lips. He moved slowly at first, pulling out of you with little force before burying himself in your walls once more.

You moaned, head thrown back on the silk sheets and your hands knotted in his hair. “Doyoung,” You croaked. “Why aren’t you going faster?” you could barely talk, your voice came unsteadily. Gripping your hips tightly with his slender hands.

“I wanna take my time tonight.” He wanted his time for you. Regardless of how many girls he had, he wanted to savor this. He made sure to thrust deep, hard, but slow. Working to find your sweet spot than to blindly fuck you. You could feel his tip hitting your cervix in painful pleasure.

“Doyoung!” You squealed, as he thrust harder, followed by a high moan.

“Keep moaning like that.” He grunted, eyes falling to your face.

So you did as he asked, performing for him, you cried even louder. A chain of panicked moans left his mouth as you involuntarily clenched around his cock, he was hitting all the right spots inside you, but he needed to do more to compensate for the slow speed.

“Can I touch you?” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to find the words to tell him to do it, to make you writhe at his will. But instead, you nodded, seeing his hand travel down in between you, and rubbing small circles over the swollen bundle of nerves. “Like this?”

“Y-yes.” You choked out. Doyoung was so calm, yet filled with so much pleasure. You didn’t know there could be this side of him. Through your gasps and unprompted shudders, he had to lean only a centimeter to capture your lips in his.

His slow thrusts continued, alongside his fingers, still rubbing your clit as he tried to kiss you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, letting them dance across his back, he drove his tongue into your mouth widely. All at once a collective wave of emotions swarmed you, an urgency filled the room as you climbed closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m going--to come…” You groaned. Your fingers pulling the roots of his hair.

“Y/N.” Your vision blurred, you pulse around him, breathing shallow and sweat gathering over your body.

“Oh my god…” You whimpered, you had become oversensitive. Your legs began to rattle against his body, a loud string of low moans leaving Doyoung as you felt him realize into you. His head fell into your neck, moaning against your sweet skin.

He held you in his arms, continuing to moan until you both finally released. You both stayed in each other's arms for a moment, catching your breath, breathing ruggedly as Doyoung rolled off of you. Just as quickly as he got into the bed, he slung his legs over the side and got up, pulling on his discarded clothes.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He looked at you, zipping up his pants and shrugging silently. Your heart sank.

“I need to. We have a meeting tomorrow and I need to take a quick flight to Busan, I’ll be back princess, you’ll see me tomorrow, don’t worry.” You wanted to act like a man, your man, your boyfriend, your husband, but you knew you would asking too much. As much as you wanted him to be yours, you knew he never would be, and so your anger showed in your attitude.

“Why bother with Busan, we’re in Seoul.” A small smile played on his face, he seemed happy that you didn’t want him to leave. You wrapped the pale pink silk sheets around your body, and slowly ascended from the bed. You stood in front of him, hoping he wouldn't leave. Still smiling, he leaned forward and kissed your head, a little too lovingly.

“I got you something just before I came. I waited a couple weeks for it. It’ll  atone for leaving so soon.”

You glanced at him curiously, your eyebrow cocking inquisitively. He did it again. He came, fucked you, stayed, and then left. He did it over and over again until the cycle felt never-ending. At first, you didn’t see a problem, but now, now you were in too deep.

He disappears behind your door, you can hear his quick footsteps as he goes to retrieve whatever it was he got for you. You couldn't help but be excited. Doyoung had money, Doyoung helped you with your career, but it wasn’t every day that he got you something without a request. He came back, a black necklace box in hand.

“For you,” he said, handing you the back box and excitedly awaiting your reaction. You opened it, a surge of happiness and shock flowing through you.

“Doyoung. How?” Your eyes widened, an ear to ear grin appeared on your face as you opened the box.  

A month ago you had managed to get a seat at one of the most famous auctions there ever was. All the proceeds went to charity, but you were there for one thing. Taeyong always said you looked best in pearls, but not any pearls, not counterfeit imitated ones. Real, natural white pearls. And he was right, they looked gorgeous on you.

You had a budget of a 1.5 million, now that you could afford to make such a risky purchase, but someone outbid you. You were so upset when you found out you wouldn’t get the pearls that Doyoung had to spend at least a week putting up with your rants, irrational mood swings, and attitude. But now you were staring at the pearls, and it was because of him.

“I knew you wanted them so I had to get them. I want you to wear them tomorrow, you look sophisticated and elegant, and beautiful in pearls.” Doyoung’s voice sounded sensual as it trailed off.

“Thank you so much—Oh my god, I could photograph this! Did you know Pearls promote centeredness, faith, loyalty, truth, and purity. I mean, my fine art project could really—oh my god, thank you so so so much.“ Your mind ran in every which way, thoughts of gratitude and respect raced through your head, while there were ideas of love and photography. You lunged at him, arms wrapped around your waist, playfully pulling at the sheets. “It must of cost so much—”

“Don’t worry about it… but Y/N, I really need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled away from you.

And without another word he was gone. And there was no proof he ever was actually there.

“I need to turn down that offer, I’ll take new photos for the design, but I won't allow you to use my past works!” You folded your hands together, glancing around the room at the businessmen that observed your photography portfolio. There was one girl there. She looked like she was plucked from a gucci store in some beautiful country, but she had a mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old.

“I mean, using your old ones would ensure they would turn out good, you photos recently have been pretty—”

“Pardon me for asking, but who  are you, I haven’t seen you here before.” You sat at a table with reputable officials of Dyoung's company. You were held in high esteem at his enterprise. You were someone who was able to give Doyoung's company a mainstream vibe, generating buzz with the main media.

“Oh,” She laughed obviously as if you should've known who she was. “I’m new, but I’m Kim Dongyoung assistant, I take care of all the office needs and his needs as well.” You knew what she was. You never met his assistants, but people told you he went through them like cigarettes to an addict.

“This is a professional meeting with esteemed entrepreneurs, executives, and merchandisers. In this world, you build yourself up to power by connections and talent. I commend you for having such a difficult job, and starting a path to invent yourself. But you’re an assistant, know your place. Especially around people at this table. If I say that I don’t want past photos used then you can give me a concept or we can end the meeting and the company doesn't need me. Are we all  clear?” Everyone nodded, taking what you had said into consideration.

You learned very fast that your vocabulary and persona had to change at places like this, sometimes you let yourself slip, as you did now. But you couldn't help it,  she had this aura around her like she was fucking the CEO. Nevertheless, the rest of the people nodded, some smirking at your statement. To say the least, nobody really liked her.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I think since it’s going to be for the new computer he’s making, maybe we could go in the path apple had gone in. Great landscapes, flowers, I know you could absolutely make those amazing.” You smiled at the man, glancing at the girl momentarily and writing notes on your notepad. Where the fuck was Doyoung.

“Yes! I like that, but we could also do hipster things maybe,” the older women smiled. “My daughter, she goes to a lot of festivals and takes fantastic photos, they look so amazing, maybe we can get in touch with the interest of modern media and take pictures of those things.

“What’s your name Miss?” You asked flipping a page in your notepad to write it down.

“Oh!” She grinned happily.

“Ho Hyang-Soon. Spelled H-Y-A-N-G-Soon.” In the blink of an eye the door slowly creaked open, tensely, Doyoung appeared from the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I was held up at another meeting, if I had known I would have been late, I would have canceled, my deepest apologies,” He bowed down at everyone. He was good at lying sometimes, this was a lie he was particularly good at executing. You knew he had to be with one of his other girls. Regardless of what he was doing, you never asked you just nodded and did as you were told.

The meeting got pretty boring from that moment forward, they told you what photographs they wanted you to take and then you were basically done, the rest of the duration consisted of Doyoung calling more shots on the design of his computer.

You had never felt more happy to leave a meeting. Sometimes you thought they were fun. It was like coffee hour when Doyong wasn’t around. Other times they were absolutely boring.

You stood over Ms. Ho Hyang-Soon’s desk discussing her ideas towards the desktop art and photograpghy. You could tell she was flattered you had decided to talk to her and acknowledge her idea, it was very hard to do that with Doyoung.

However, the smile soon disappeared from your face when the doors to Doyoung’s office opened and revealed him and his shotty new assistant. Her hand was placed on his shoulder as he talked to one of his office friends, her smile wickedly evil as she glanced at you. You touched the pearls on your neck, realized that you had worn something he had given. You looked weak.  Despite having an agreement, you felt betrayed.

Dismissing yourself from the women and sauntering past the couple, you got angrier. As tempting as it was, killing someone in a workplace would be incredibly unprofessional and you were no insufficient pirahea. You in fact were a great, great businesswoman. You reached to back of your neck, unclasping the pearls that burned your skin with embarrassment and shoved it into the pocket of you pants suit. How could he do this to you? In a workplace as well.

You didn’t turn around, although you did hope he would call your name to go after you, he didn’t.

Minutes later, of more pining and pitying of yourself, you decided to get back on track and talk to more people. It was as if every minute Doyoung wasted, made you more and more anxious about him not coming at all. It almost hurt how much he didn’t care. As much as Doyoung had helped you, somehow you felt that he still thought of you as a little girl. You tried desperately to show him you were women, in more ways than one.

You excused yourself from yet another person and strolled over to his office. You loved being in there, it was massive, it had a huge window with a view of all of Sueol. You reached his door, pulling it open. “Doy—oh my god.” You stood at the door, seeing at the door, opened halfway seeing his assistant on his lap, her dress pulled up, and his pants pulled to his ankles. Doyoung's eyes widened, glancing at the girl who had taken his cock. You closed the door, making sure nobody behind you had seen.

You shook your head, trying to get the visions out of your mind and to keep going. But all that was racing through your mind was the disgusting pictures playing through your mind. You didn’t think sex was disgusting. But when you watched someone you liked doing it, it got hundreds of times more abominable and atrocious than just watching porn. You had immediately set off to find that women again, you had been having a nice conversation with her before this whole mess started.

And then not so long after he came out, leaving his assistent behind. It was amusing to you how composed he looked, it was as if nothing ever happened. He fixed his tie while looking around the fancy office searching for you. It was as if he wasn’t just being pleasured. Frankly, you didn’t care if he had sex, it was who it was with the mattered to you. You wanted that to be you, and only you.  He took long strides over to you, brushing his black hair from his eyes and standing in front of you and the women.

He bowed to the women, verbalizing something in Korean, before turning to your and motioning his head in another direction.

“Could I please talk to you Y/N?” His eyes looked everywhere but your eyes, too embarrassed to look at you.

“It’s okay Ms. Y/N, I’ll be fine.” Bashful about turning down Doyoung in front of someone in public, you had no choice but go with him, and you weren’t looking forward to what he was going to discuss with you.

Pulling you into an empty corridor, he heaved a heavy sigh and knotted his finger in his hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” He whispered quietly. “I didn’t mea—”

“It’s fine, luckily I found you and not somebody else.” You felt defiled, dirty even, awaken to what scandalous deed you two were actually doing.

“Yeah, but still, I don’t know how I would feel If I saw you bein—Why did you take your necklace off? It looked nice.” You felt like hitting him very, very hard. If you don’t know how you would feel, then why do it?

“It’s not like we’re dating Doyoung, it doesn't matter.”

Everyone at the meeting was praising you, but even with recognition from everyone in the world, if you didn’t have Doyoung’s you weren’t satisfied. He shrugged, after hearing from you.

“I guess your right,” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But why did you take it off?”

“I think pearls aren’t for me,” You trailed off. “But what about the symbolization, didn’t you say it promoted centeredness and such. “

“Loyalty actually.” Doyoung nodded, his big brown eyes soft as he looked at you. He didn’t say anything, making your uncomfortable under his stare. “Like I said, I don’t think they’re for me. And I should get going.” You started to walked away, but his grip on your waist stopped you.

“Is Ji-Su bothering you? I heard what happened before I got to the meeting.”

His stare held concern and a twinge of sadness, continuing to search for your shifty eyes.

“She seems nice.” You complimented. “When she isn’t acting like a bitch.”

“I’ll fire her,” He blurted out shifting on his feet awkwardly. “If you don’t like it, I mean. I’ll fire her. You have to come here, and I don’t want it to be unbearable.”

You turned to look down the corridor at the elevator. “Yeah, well, my work here is done. I need to get home.”

It’s funny how things like this work. One moment you’re a struggling college student and the next you’re a world-renowned photographer, loved by artists and models. Now you were in Japan taking landscape photos and plant photos for Do-young's new computer system, trying to find the perfect default screensavers. That day after you caught Doyoung, you got home and threw yourself into your photography, being able to get more fine art pieces out, before you esteemed Calvin Klein campaign you were shooting a week later.

Doyoung had said he wanted to come with you, that he would be arriving a day after you in Japan to help choose things to photograph. But it’s been four days in Japan and four weeks since you’ve seen him.  You figured like always that he was either busy with work or with one of his other whores.

But maybe they weren’t as dumb as you, breaking his first rules and actually starting to like him. This was a deal, a partnership, not a thing for you to break your heart over. He had money to throw away, which is probably why he was letting girls take his money so easily. He was in fact, despite what he says, a very, very lonely man. Even with all the girls on his side,, there was no denying there was a void inside his lonely heart.  Sometimes you asked yourself why you stayed with him. And then you realized that you had no desire to leave because you would be just as lonely as him.

When it read eleven PM on the illuminated digital clock, you knew he either didn’t care or simply forgotten. It was most likely the fact he didn’t care. You set the teapot on the stove of Doyoung's unused Japan vacation house and set it at a low heating level, letting the fruit tea settle in the sifter. You heard the door slam, and the familiar footsteps of Doyoung’s dress shoes. You turned around, his hair was disheveled, but his suit remained classic and elegant. He stormed towards you, passing the dining table and living room to get to the kitchen.

“I’m so so sorry Y/N,” He pushed you into the counter, brushing the hair from your face.  He was out of breath as if he just ran here. He kissed you suddenly. The smack of your lips filled the room as he continued to kiss you. And then he put both hands on your waist, steadying himself and his kisses changed, something you never got from him before. He kissed you slowly, passionately. His hands roamed up your body and cupped your throat, moving to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” Your arms tangled up around his neck, wanting it, wanting him.

“You’re always sorry,” You mumbled on his lips, kissing him slowly again.

“I mean it this time. I do.”

“Mmm,” You joked, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His fingers were like matches to your skin, even a graze lit you on fire.

You knew he didn’t love you back or even like you. But you didn’t care, you couldn't resist his touch. He pulls away softly, brushing his lips against yours again. It wasn’t sexual, no, it was innocent as if he was having his first kiss again.

“Doyoung what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” He kissed your cheek, a defensive lilt in his voice. His kisses traveled down your neck towards your ear. “I just missed you so much.” You couldn't believe him.

“Are you sure? Where have you been?”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but all I want right now is to fuck you. Can you do that?” He said a little annoyed. But you didn’t listen to the annoying part, you listened to how scared he was.

“Yeah baby, we can.”

In an instant, he grabbed the underside of your thighs, pushing you onto the counter and tearing your sweatpants down your legs. Trying equally as hard to pull off your pink panties you wore just in case for scenarios like this. He peeled your legs from each other and looked down at you, the most exposed you. He ran his dainty finger over your slit all the way to your clit. He looked pulled your legs above his shoulders, leaning down slowly and coming face to face with your heat. He kitty licked you slowly. You squirmed at the feeling, waiting for him to do more to you. He didn't always eat you out, he used it as a reward system, but you didn’t know what you did that was worthy of his reward. And then he pushed his head into you, his tongue darting deeper and deeper inside of you, licking up your wetness that he started to create.

In pleasure, you took a fistful of his black hair, pushing his head further, you could hear his muffled moans as you did. His mouth was placed gently of your clit, sucking and darting your tongue under the little hood. You bucked your hips into him, your legs beginning to shake against his broad shoulders. And then he pushed two fingers inside of you.  Gasping at the sensation, a high moan leaves your lips.  With every thrust of his fingers, you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“C’mon baby, come for me.” And just as he said that you came onto his fingers, your juices quickly being lapped up by his tongue. You were never good with polyamorous relationships, you got too jealous for your own good. You didn’t want anyone else being pleasured by Doyoung but you, and you wanted to be the only one to touch him. He pushed your legs off of him, glancing at you momentarily, before taking his lips onto yours.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He whispered his breath on your lips. You nodded slowly, feeling him grab your thighs and lift you up in his muscular arms. You turned your head and glanced at the counter, there was still a small pool of come next to the stove, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how wet you were. You could be dripping onto Doyoung right now, or even on the floor.  Nevertheless, he carried you to the Japanese bedroom.

The room was nearly pitch black except for the tiny leak of moonlight that spilled into the room. Something about him now was so gentle, the way he lightly set you down and watched you as he took off his clothes, peeling the black suit off his body. He did it early slow, observing your body furthermore. You sat up, waiting for him.

And when he sat down on the bed, fully naked except for his black boxers, you threw your legs on either side of him and got comfortable on his lap, continuing the slow, fervid kissing. He moaned into the kisses, his hands moving to your ass, to your hips, all over the place.

Ever so slowly, you place both your hands on his chest and pushed him down until he was lying on his back. You kissed and licked behind his ear, nibbled on his lobe, and kissing down his jawline to his cheek.  You could feel the beautiful man’s clothed member hit your bare pussy, and you wanted him, you had wanted him so many times before this. But now, you didn’t just want to fuck him, you wanted to make love. And although you didn’t know quite what that was, you thought you could do it with, you thought you could find it.

You kissed his bare chest, worshipping every part of his body you came across until you got to his boxers. You took his boxers off, sliding them down his legs while your head followed, kissing his thighs, the inside of his knees. And now that the boxers were gone, you were going to take what you wanted for a long time.

You put your hand on his shaft. Feeling it smooth and under your touch. You stroked it gently. Up and down. It needed lubrication and I had just the perfect thing. Beads of pre-cum oozed from his head, licking it up with your velvety tongue. Doyoung mumbled something in Korean, looking down at you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Circling it slowly in your mouth, you moaned on his cock, finally feeling it in your mouth after months. He was smooth under your tongue, probing the tip and igniting every nerve. You licked lower, beneath the head and all the way down to the shaft. You massaged his balls in your hands, and slowly took his laugh in your mouth.

He was a good six inches, but a thick six inches, which was probably why he felt so good. To you, there was nothing better than a thick above average sized cock. You bobbed your head, moving up and down, hollowing out your mouth. You wanted him to make you his favorite, nobody could do it like you.

He pushed your head down, you could feel the tip of his cock hit your throat eliciting a gag, but you regained a hold of yourself. And soon you weren’t in control anymore, it was him, pushing your head up and down along his cock. Moaning words of encouragement to make him come. Then he stopped, slowly sitting up, prompting you to mirror his actions. He let you steady yourself on his lap, holding onto his shoulders.

“You have the mouth of a slut,” he whispered into your ear. “In and out of my beds.”  He kissed down your neck and moved the strap of your tank top. “Take your shirt off, princess.” 

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it out. Luckily you wore no bra and you were completely naked in front of Doyoung. He took your breasts in his hand, kneading them roughly as you moaned. He chuckled a little, capturing your lips and kissing you.

He took your nippled between his fingers, rolling them over and making them hard.

“You’re so sexy princess,” He whispered, bringing your nipple to his mouth and sucking on it slowly, holding eye contact. You grabbed onto his shoulders, throwing your head back and moaning.

His slender fingers traced around the area, grabbing your tit and sucking softly, moving to the other breast.

His mouth hovered over you, his hot breath washing over your just-kissed skin. He squeezed your nipple again, while he took the other in his mouth, with enough force so you barely had time to register the pain. He left a couple hickeys. His hand gliding over your side and look down at where your bare pussy met his pelvis.

“Are you going to ride me, princess?” You nodded, getting up on your knees and holding onto his shoulders so he could position himself to enter you. You didn’t ride him a whole lot, it was when he was at work sitting in his chair or tired, maybe even a little vulnerable that he let you ride him. It meant having you in control, and he didn’t like that. He was a CEO, he wanted to be in control.

A stuttered groan came from Doyoung, reaching for your hips guiding your up and down as you made out slowly. He kept biting your lips and squeezing your ass. He leaned back a little, watching his cock plunge deep into your pink pussy.

You sped up, harshly slamming down on his cock, prompting high moans, and low moans.

A guttural moan released from his throat, he through his head in your neck and kissed you there, pleasure clouding his actions as he groaned at the feeling of your pussy.  You loved how he acted when he was being pleasured, it was as if he couldn't take what you were giving him, he acted helpless, sometimes desperate.

You started fucking faster, Doyoung was meeting you halfway, slamming into your further, his thick cock stretching you out even more. You almost screamed, gripping on his shoulders and digging your nails into him. He moaned, flipping you quickly so he was on top of you.

“You’re marking me now?” He growled in your ear.

One thing he hated was being marked, that was one of his rules. Don’t mark him. You always thought it was because he was a businessman and he never wanted people to see it. But that wasn’t it. He must have liked being marked since he did it to you a lot, but even if you accidentally left bruises. “You can’t help yourself can you.” He took one hard thrust into you, making you whine out in pain and pleasure. You felt his warm seed fill you up a chain of profanities leaving his mouth. It came in spurts, one creaming into you, and the other shooting hard. His breath grew ragged and he whined out.

He gripped your hips. He wanted to fuck your harder. And he fucked you until you came, but he didn’t stop, he kept going, despite the fact he knew you had never gone farther when getting fucked with a cock. He increased speed as you held with him each thrust. He pushed into you so hard his breath got even shakier.

You were both panting, whining. Way over your breaking point, but you liked it. You wanted to come again. Even though Doyoung was at his wit's end, he wouldn't stop pushing himself until you came again, until you couldn't take his cock anymore. Your legs began to shake, they usually did whenever you had sex with Doyoung, and you came all over his cock. It was too much, he had fucked you to hard and too thoroughly. He pulled out of you slowly, watching your face relax.

You fell next to you, sitting up slowly and glancing over. You took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then. What hotel are you staying at?” You said, reaching over and snatching his black pants off the ground. He took them from you but didn’t make any advances to get up or put them on.

“Actually…” He said softly, reaching his long arms over to grab his boxers. “I think I want to stay the night.”  He glimpsed at you shyly, asking for some seal of approval.

“Why?” He was silent, getting up momentarily to pull his black boxers up his legs. “Doyoung, what’s wrong?”

You asked the questions knowing he wouldn't be able to answer the question. He wasn’t good at articulating his emotions. He didn’t like putting himself out there, he didn’t like feeling vulnerable or looking at it. But he just ended up looking vulnerable anyways, keeping everything bottled up.

“You’re the only one,” he said whispering.

He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead, his face illuminated from the moonlight. “What?”

“I want you.” He said more firmly. “I want you.” “Again? I mean we can go for one mo—” “No,” he stopped you, looking into your eyes softly. “I want you.” You finally knew what he meant. That he wanted you just a little more than what he was getting. That this sex was good, but he wanted a little more.

“Do you like me?” You asked, seeing him nod no slowly. But you knew he liked you, he admitted right then and there. “Do you love me?” He looked away from you, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth.

“I—”

“You don’t have to say it… if you do, you don’t have to say it.”

Love is a beautiful and scary thing all at the same time. For someone like Doyoung, he’s never tied down, so feeling something like that was new to him. Saying it to someone was weird and otherworldly. It made him feel vulnerable and you knew that. Baring out your heart and soul might leave you prone and vulnerable to hurt and pain, but sometimes taking the risk and letting it all out is one of the most amazing things that you’ll be able to experience. Doyoung needed his time, and he didn’t need to say it to you for you to know he did love you. He showed by his actions. Like the beautiful pearl necklace he got, and the relentless sorries he would always give.

So as he got up, pulling the covers off the bed and slipping in right before you did. A whisper left his lips.

“Thank you.”

And that’s how you knew he did. That’s how you knew he felt the same back. That you weren't just fucking him all this time, you were making love.