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decadentrot · 2 years

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BKDK Nerd AU Interlude I

Izuku wandered into his shared bedroom and plopped on his bed unceremoniously, his feet leading him to his soft haven and army of plushies. Face down in his soft Best Jeanist blanket, his hands clutched at the worksheet his teacher assigned the class. His thoughts were running a marathon in his mind. He knew this day was coming; afterall, it was inevitable with high school coming around.

"Your sheer presence is ruining this peaceful silence," snarked his roommate and best friend, Hitoshi.

Izuku looked up at his purpled hair friend and retorted, “I’m not saying anything?”

He smirked and mockingly replied, “I can practically hear the words behind those swampy eyes. ‘Ahhh another problem plagues my miserable existence oh wonderful and dear friend Toshi-Chan you are the light of my life, the only thing that drives me to not be a sad sod everyday. Let me sell all my plushies in order to help you buy more cat hoodies-”

Hitoshi’s completely realistic (not!) imitation was interrupted by a roll of paper hitting his forehead with a loud smack sound and a shriek of smug laughter. He looked down and picked up the offending weapon of choice and raised an eyebrow to at the words: ‘Future Career Objectives.’

“This is what's interrupting my peaceful silence?”

Despite the words being jarring, his eyes showed a hint of compassion and frankly, a hint is all Izuku needs. He's been waiting for this sliver of an opening.

“What do you want to be in the future?”

Hitoshi cocked his head, not unlike a cat planning how to efficiently hunt its prey, “I’d be a product tester for beds, afterall if an insomniac like me can get sleep then its ready for the market. I'm looking for an easy way to pay the bills.”

Izuku, falling for the bait, sat up. They played this dance multiple times being as emotionally compromised as they were.

He took a deep breath, “Cause when I was young, I wanted to be a Pro-hero you know that of course, but I obviously couldn't. It wasn’t fated to be, I guess and I also like analyzing fights and stuff so maybe I can try journalism, but well...” I don't want my stalker notes and analysis to be public and deal with the outlash or having to interview him…

"I'm not sure I work well in media settings," he finished dumbly, a bit put out by the sudden reemergence of a certain blond haired boy in his thoughts.

“Yeah. Reporters are leeches anyways who do dumb shit to get their jobs done, that's not you. You're too honest. You want to save people, make them happy, all that sappy junk. Do something like that and be the hero you are fated to be,” stated Hitoshi in a bored tone, though the tenseness in his voice showed how much he disagreed with the negative thoughts that were not voiced.

“It just feels like a cop out, like I couldn’t exactly make it as an actual hero and i'm just doing this…” trailed off Izuku.

Hitoshi repaid the favor and threw the aforementioned paper back at Izuku, hitting him straight on his freckled head.

“So I lied about the bed tester job (I could tell dumbass) I'm actually going to become an underground hero. And I was reading these forums and they always say you go underground when you don't want people to see how incompetent you are or when your quirk isn't that powerful. Blah Blah Blah If anything, that's what hero rejects are, but-hey don't interrupt me-I'm still hoping to do that as a job because that's what fits me best and that's the way I choose to save people. Saving others isn't always glamorous Izuku,” Hitoshi nervously stated, though his eyes reflected a fire that used to burn brightly in Izuku, “Sometimes saving someone is sitting with them at night and keeping them company as he online shops and reminding him that he's not alone and there are good people out there that are worth protecting.”

Izuku stared at Hitoshi, for once silence in the outer world reflected Izuku's mind. He was right, a save is a save and he knows better than others that everyone deserves to be saved. He knows better than others that somethings saving someone is telling them that they can do it, they can make others smile even without a quirk. Sometimes saving someone is telling them they can’t do that, they can’t make everything right by simply just having a quirk.

Izuku knows this. His mind wanders once more, but these thoughts take a happier turn. He thinks of his mother, a hero in her own right, and much like Hitoshi says, she saved him on his darkest nights the only villian was himself. She showed how loved he is even if he is a little different from the rest of the world and her heroic actions are shown in her work as a simple nurse. Tending for the sick, comforting the grieving, supporting the doctors saving others lives. Her job definitely wasn't glamorous by any means, it was tiring and filled with poor sights, working long hours and not getting nearly a much respect as she should by stubborn patients or emotional visitors.

And so Izuku smiled, well doesn't that describe him. A simple boy who just wants to help working a simple job that offers opportunities for the help he so desperately wishes to give. God, this was such a simple problem with the simplest of solutions. Why was I stressing out about it so much?

#izuku midoriya #hitoshi shinsō #platonic shindeku #bnha #mha #bnha writing #dkbk nerd au #ive been meaning to draw more of the comic but then sxf took over and ive been working on animatics and my portfolio for school #but also i need to wokr more on this au cause i barely even got to wriitng about bkdk even though its in the name of the au #like they had 2 secs of convo and i decided yup that enough #anyways enjoy my dumb writing #honestly writing has never been my strong suit and i dont think i charactirized them correctly nor did i show the subtext i wanted #like some things are too on the nose but im too lazy to fix it

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skydalorian · 3 months

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I have a friend at work who is a blonde-dyed-black millennial who is into abstract art and smokes weed and is literally keeping her conservative dad alive while also holding him accountable to her whims and I think I'm obsessed EXCEPT she's a Swiftie.

#I'm not actually going to think little of you/am actually very chill but I appreciate that you #know that I disapprove lol #tbf she's a self-effacing swiftie #I guess we can't all be perfect #She is on tenterhooks with me and I'm like #she also asked my permission to date someone who I was kind of into and I was so touched. Like girl #I am ace as all get out #go for him!!!#he's a neuroscientist and you're an abstract artist and he looked! at your! portfolio!#go for it #anyway she's the best person I know and could get cancer any ol day of the week with her blood disorder #she reminds me to stay present #but also aware that Tswift sucks #If you see this Nat #I don't actually want to date you nor do I don't think of you in that way #But I also adore you

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maknaesdancersrappers · 10 months

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#i wanna leave my job so bad #but im not financially capable of doing so #nor is my portfolio even good enough to land a better job #im sick of the 10hours man #and to get paid 500usd a month?#it doesnt feel worth it anymore #sos

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arttheclown · 2 years

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this is the whiniest shit ever and i am Well-aware that i’m whining about a path i ultimately chose for myself but i’m really getting sick of doing piles of homework that really isn’t helping my skill-set in the long run rather than pursuing things that actually do make me happy. during what’s supposed to be my one week off. lol

#sid speaks #negative /#i really don't think i'd care so much if it wasn't 3 semesters in a row #with minimal breaks #nor do i think i would care so much if more the hw actually helped me hone my skills #i like my masters creative writing class because that IS helping me #i'm writing a story i can use as part of my portfolio #interview / job prep class is also incredibly helpful #i . cannot say that about my other 3 classes #i just need to pass so i can do my internship in the fall

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mehumiljonaari · 2 years

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the worry over the possibility of me having nerve issues in my dominant hand overshadowing the joy over the fact that this lets me step down from an ”internship” role with a boss that tried to call me at 2am

#I was supposed to be a trainee in a TEAM of designers and they made me lead designer #boss would call me every time I had questions and talk to me like I was an idiot and them talk shit about other ppl in the org #I was also just never properly given directions I was just expected to now hpw shit works #my job was making layouts for print but neither my cv nor my portfolio indicated that was my expertise #but I was still expected to create ads in 6 different sizes and dimensions in like 5 hrs #he gave me a task at 4:30 am and was mad when I couldn’t finish it by noon (he never told me the deadline)

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morallyinept · 8 months

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I don't rant very often - it's negative energy that I don't want or need in my life - but I feel that as a fan of Pedro Pascal, I'd like to take a moment to highlight what being a fan actually means.

As clearly, some people, some "fans", have demonstrated having a hard time grasping that concept...

Being a fan of Pedro Pascal means I enjoy his career, his portfolio of works.

Sure, I enjoy his physical looks too; the man is certainly as handsome as they come, let's be real here. Yes, I find him attractive.

More importantly, I enjoy what Pedro stands for; his beliefs, his passions. He stands up for injustice, he is an LGBTQIA+ advocate and friend. He is a feminist. He is politcal. He's proud of his heritage.

Is Pedro perfect? Do I believe the sun shines out of his ass? No, he's human and has flaws and off days like the rest of us.

Ain't no-one that is perfect, babe. That's delusion talking if you truly believe that.

I enjoy that Pedro inspires me to be a better human being.

Being a true fan, to me, means only positive things.

It means respect.

It means respecting Pedro's boundaries, be that in person, or online.

It means respecting Pedro's privacy. He has the right, just like any one of us, to a personal life seperate from his career.

Pedro doesn't have to answer to you, me, or anyone else about his private life.

You are not entitled to him, or his time, just because he is a celebrity. (God, I fucking hate that word.) He does not owe you anything, and nor should he be expected to.

Pedro Pascal is a human being.

As a fan of Pedro, I will not write fanfic about him. Only his characters, because his characters are primarily the reason why I admire Pedro. His characters are how I discovered Pedro to begin with.

He can make me laugh, cry, fall in love, wince when he loses an arm, gasp when he double crosses the protagonist. I can survive a fungal apocalypse with his characters by my side.

That's an incredible testament to his talent as an actor that no matter what role he plays, I don't see Pedro on the screen. I only see his characters.

It's his job and he enjoys it. As a fan, I enjoy his craft.

If you do write about Pedro, that's up to you and I am not going to judge, but for me personally, it's a hard no. And I won't be reading any of it either, sorry.

As a fan of Pedro, I can draw the line between fantasy and reality. Meaning, I would never go out of my way to invite, devise, plant myself in deliberately, or exploit a situation where Pedro is in my personal space, or I in his.

Firstly, I'm a realist. And secondly if I ever met the guy, chances are I'd walk right past him and not even notice. (It's happened a lot, not with Pedro but with other actors etc... I live in the capital, there are a lot of them here.)

And thirdly, I am not a stalker.

I would never intentionally track him down in another country whilst he is working or vacationing, and then post about how slighted I am on IG that he told me to politely leave him alone because I was too persistent in getting too close. I would never relocate and uproot my life just to live near him in the hopes we bump into one another and fall desperately in love. 🙄

This is real life people, not a movie.

This kind of behaviour from Pedro's so-called fans is questionable, and frankly concerning to anyone with a sane mind.

I would also never bully or belittle anyone because their fan account is more popular than mine. I would never actively enforce or seek to enforce the deliberate closure of any fan accounts because I am petty or jealous.

Unfortunately this has happened and I am sorry to have heard about those who were affected by it - you did not deserve that.

Sadly, all these things have happened. For real. And it's utterly gross behaviour from, in most cases, fully grown women who are old enough to know better.

We are all here to enjoy and support Pedro, so why is that such a hard concept to grasp? Why does fandom have a toxic corner?

I'll tell you why.

Because thanks to social media, and platforms like Tumblr, it's all too easy to sit faceless behind a keyboard and do and say whatever you want, without any real consequence.

There are always a few bad eggs, in any fandom, who feel they are superior, that they know everything. That because they found a new image or a clip first that they are entitled to police everything. That they are entitled to dictate how fandom should be run.

I've got news for you; you're not.

Fandom is inclusive, sharing, a creative hub for ideas, inspiration. A place to forge friendships, relationships because you have common ground. The coming together of like-minded individuals to celebrate and endorse their admiration for their idol in a safe, non-threatening place.

A place for creativity to flow, for confidence in yourself to grow. To create original stories from canon, to create unique head canon because we don't want these lovable characters to die. To paint amazing pictures. To get excited over Pedro's new projects and discuss your favourites.

That's fandom. That's being a fan.

Being a fan doesn't mean creating, spreading, peddling or posting harmful material that 1) is frankly abhorrently disgusting and is not only insulting to Pedro, but also his family, his friends etc... and 2) could also be potentially damaging to his career.

I am referring to the vile deepfake of Pedro currently doing the rounds now on Tumblr because some idiot thought it was funny to clog up our timelines with it.

I don't want, or need, to see that, thanks.

And whoever created it originally should be fucking ashamed of themselves. I would wholly encourage you to report and block any accounts that have done this.

Imagine how you would feel if your face, your image was used and violated in that way.

You'd be outraged, right? Hurt? Sickened?

This kind of manipulation of AI is exactly what the WGA and SAG-AFTRA are concerned about and were/are striking for.

What Pedro is striking for, and then someone has the gall to pull this sickening stunt.

It's what artists are concerned about. What writers are concerned about. AI wasn't created to be abused in this way.

So, what makes you think that all this behaviour is acceptable to do to a man, who is nothing but generous and kind?

A man who would give you help, no questions asked, if he ran into you, in his own words:

And you have the audacity to call yourselves fans?

A man who, if he knew, what his "fans" do, I'm certain he would be absolutely disgusted and not condone any of it.

☝🏻Let me make it abundantly clear:

If you have looked for, deliberately searched for, posted, jerked off to, liked or shared that vile deepfake clip, video, pic - whatever the fuck it is - in any way then, YOU ARE NO FAN OF PEDRO PASCAL.

And I am certainly no fan of yours.

Do better. Don't be a dick.

#pedro pascal #jett has spoken

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art · 2 years

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Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webcomics #michelle fus #ava's demon

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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Hey love, I got a question; are you down for goblins? Specifically a yandere horde of goblins? 😳

I'm not not down for it...

(I'm sorry, I'm sure I know what kind of goblin horde you meant, buuuut I started writing and couldn't stop 🥲)

CW: Entrapment, obsessive behavior, ecological polyandry/polygyny with a GN!reader, both male and female goblins, forced parental responsibilities, platonic yandere, not proofread

Madame Gilly burst into the backroom, nearly startling (Reader) into swallowing the pins they were holding in their lips. "(Reader)! Awful, amazing, terrible, fantastic news!"

(Reader) smiled nervously, sticking the pins in their cushion. "What is it, Madame?" Their boss was fabulously dramatic as always, fanning herself with a decorated envelope.

"Oh, nothing.. just a summons for one Mx. (Reader) from the Count's daughter."

"What for?"

"How should I know? I didn't read your letter!" She handed over the letter while sighing loudly. "Yet, it's so beautifully decorated.. such a shame! Another marriage proposal, ignored!" She pretended to become faint, placing her knuckles on her forehead.

(Reader) chuckled, opening the bright purple envelope with lavender tied in a ribbon. Their eyes widened, an excited gasp escaped as their legs failed them and they fell back onto their stool.

"What is it?!"

"It's.." a shocked blush dusted their cheeks, "it's a request for my services! She wants a dress for an upcoming party!"

Madame Gilly squealed, bouncing up and grabbing her protege. "Oh, that's even better than a proposal! I'm so proud of you!"

It would be roughly three days ride by carriage, packed with smaller fabrics for color swatches and texture explanation, multiple dresses (Reader) had already made with mannequins to display them, and (Reader's) portfolio of designs.

Marcus, a local man who often rode Madame Gilly around for a small fee, offered up his services, just as excited for (Reader) as the Madame. "So, this is your lucky break, huh?" He offered a hand to the young employee. "Finally gonna start considering opening your own shop."

(Reader) smiled, stepping into the carriage without Marcus' assistance. "I've never been interested in business, Marcus, you know this. I just want to make clothes."

"You should also seriously begin considering marriage.."

"My work is my legacy, Marcus." (Reader) spoke sharply with a tight smile, shutting down the conversation. They had received many marriage proposals from eligible bachelors and bachelorettes since they became of age, but didn't take an interest in any of them. Of course, (Reader) found people attractive in the past, but never felt emotionally invested in anyone to marry them, and they certainly didn't need to marry for money or connections. The thought of having children one day was also something (Reader) had seriously debated, because although the fantasy of having a child was wonderful, the process of having a baby was intimidating. Whether through being impregnated or impregnating someone else, the baby stage was much more terrifying than the raising of a child, for reasons they couldn't quite explain. The anxiety was just too much to handle.

But (Reader) didn't feel like life was passing them by, nor did they have regrets, if they ever got married then their future spouse would wait for them, no matter how many years it took to meet them.

Marcus closed the door, and (Reader) deflated, thankful that he took the hint and ended the conversation.

The change between the road and the dirt path could be felt and it made (Reader) almost wish that they had worn a dress instead of pants, just for the added cushion on their rear end.

The first day went smoothly, and boringly, (Reader) had nothing to do but think, and the night was uncomfortable, even cocooned in their blanket. But it was the next day that everything went wrong. (Reader) never saw what happened, but suddenly the carriage careened off the path and tumbled down a cliff, crashing through the woods of the mountain side.

(Reader's) entire body became airborne in the carriage, slamming their head into the ceiling, barely giving them enough time to protect their neck with their arms before being thrown like a ragdoll, not feeling any immediate pain due to the rush of adrenaline. It happened so quickly, their balled up body bouncing five times against the walls and roof before landing bottom up on the escarpment.

Out of the shattered window, (Reader) saw Marcus lying motionlessly in a tree a good distance from the carriage. They pulled their body right side up, slowly becoming aware of the stinging pain across their body. Especially their leg. Blood soaked through their right pant leg, and (Reader) couldn't bend it. It was only the second day of their journey, so it would take two days until the Duke realized something was wrong, that the journey was taking too long, and sent out a search party, which would take a day to get to the road they fell off of. Would they even notice the tire marks? And if they did, would they risk the people to search for them?

(Reader) sighed, closing their eyes. There was no point in dwelling on what ifs. (Reader) was resigned to their fate.

"I wonder what will happen first.. Starving to death, or being eaten by a wild animal." They chuckled humorlessly. With nothing to do but wait for the inevitable (Reader) fell asleep, but that was possibly a concussion.

"There's something in there."

"A dead something."

Little voices whispered outside the wreckage, rousing (Reader) from their brain injured slumber. Eyes watched them from the broken window of the door, hiding themselves from view.

"I won't bite." (Reader) offered a smile, hoping whoever was watching them wouldn't be frightened off.

A childish gasp escaped, as one of the spies scampered off. "I thought you said it was dead!" It hollered into the woods.

The child left shuffled their feet in the leaves, debating. "You promise you won't?"

"I promise."

A tiny little thing dressed in rags popped her chubby cheeked head into view, large pointy ears almost drooping under their own weight stuck out from black hair pulled back into a ponytail, her hair framed a green skinned face, making it obvious that the little girl was a goblin. She rung the front of her oversized shirt with her hands nervously.

"Hello." (Reader) cocked their head to the side in a mock bow, back and head in too much pain to attempt an actual greeting. The smile on their lips didn't leave.

"Hello.." The child mumbled in a timid way, copying (Reader's) head tilt.

"My name is (Reader). May I ask for your name?" (Reader) spoke in a low voice to appear as kind and non threatening as possible.

She took a small step forward, entering the little window without needing to duck. "My name is Vix Ix, but my brother calls me Beetle Hands."

"Why does he call you that?"

"Because I'm the best beetle catcher. At least, in my tribe." Vix Ix sat down cross legged just out of (Reader's) reach. Her large eyes wandered over (Reader's) form, mesmerized by their clothing. "What are you doing down here?"

"I had an accident. I was traveling to go meet with a potential client. I make clothes." (Reader) added that last part, seeing how the little girl's eyes sparkled while staring at the intricate needlework on their vest.

"Did you make that?" Vix Ix pointed a finger curiously at the top.

"Yes, I did. Would you like to see more of my work?" The tiny child nodded excitedly. The reaction was very human, and very adorable. "Everything may have.. scattered in the fall. But there should be a chest with a black lock, and a worn painting of a dove above it's latch. If you can find that", (Reader) fished through their pocket for a key and held it out to Vix Ix, "you can see a few of the dresses I brought for my client to look at."

Vix Ix grabbed the key, forgetting to be frightened. She ran back out of the wreckage, and (Reader) laughed, enjoying being able to bring wonder to a child in what (Reader) thought was their final moments.

They had heard so many rumors about goblins, so many stories, ranging from awful tales of mindless gnome sized trolls that murdered anything that breathed, to intelligent little creatures unfairly exterminated because of their annoying love of tricks and pranks. Sunlight glinted off of the broken shards of glass, reflecting into (Reader's) eye. How long had I been asleep? From their spot in the trees, they couldn't tell if it was midday or sunset.

Twigs snapped as the goblinette ran at full speed back to (Reader), out of breath and clutching a sparkly purple dress with butterflies embroidered at the hem line. "You made this?!"

"Hahaha! Yes I did. Do you like it?"

She was practically on the verge of tears. "It's beautiful! Is your client a princess?" Her voice was full of awe.

"The daughter of a Duke." The child waddled over, tripping on the bundle of dress in her arms, and sat much closer to (Reader) than she had earlier.

"It's so pretty!" Green fingers rubbed the fabric lovingly.

An idea came to (Reader) as they saw the joy in Vix Ix's face as she gripped the dress tightly. "You know.. I also had my sewing kit with me. If you can find that, I can trim up this dress for you."

Eyes wide with shock, her ears bounced like she had just been slapped, and asked in horror "You would cut up this dress?!"

Surprised, (Reader) felt their heart melt a little. "My leg is broken." Vix Ix looked down, and seemed startled by the blood. "I don't think there's any way the Duke's men are going to find me. So, I would have to cut off a lot of this dress to fit you, but I'd rather it be worn, then rot away in a trunk."

Tears began to drip down the little kid's cheeks, puffed up in an attempt to stop herself from crying. "I'll go find your sewing kit." She ran back out, sniffling loudly.

The moon rose high into the sky, and Hog Nose, a scrawny little boy who had an upturned button nose unlike any of the goblins in his tribe, held his ears as he was reprimanded by one of the tribe's strongest. Their tribe was small, and unusual. Decades ago their family began from a group of defectors, mostly women escaping their own tribes, wanting to create a community where they could flourish. Despite never attacking humans or causing mischief they suffered many casualties at the hands of adventurers, slaughtering them before they had the chance to explain themselves, forcing them to defend themselves. This left their family broken and impoverished. But they never gave in to "their nature" by stealing from travelers, an attempt to prove that goblins are not born evil.

"And you left Beetle Hands alone, possibly with a human?" Keegraul loudly asked incredulously.

Hog Nose whimpered, afraid of being punished and fearful for his sister. Keegraul grabbed a large dagger, almost a short sword in the young child's hands.

"She still isn't back yet, so lead the way."

The woods were dangerous at night, not only because of wild animals like mountain lions, but because of monsters that had slowly been migrating closer towards the goblins' home. Hog Nose shook as he led Keegraul through the trees, worried to find his sister hurt, or worse.

But what they found instead was that sound of laughter, emanating from a broken carriage connected to a dead horse with another corpse stuck in a tree nearby. Confused, Hog Nose ran to pile of broken wood, rushing past Keegraul who tried to stop him, knife ready for a fight.

"Beetle Hands!" He called out, not knowing what to expect, but surprised by what he found. His sister, wearing human clothing, with an injured human still fixing the bottom of the skirt.

"Hog Nose? What are you doing here?" She seemed genuinely confused, having had so much fun with her new human friend that she hadn't realized the time, standing in the dim light of (Reader's) lamp.

"I'm here to save you?"

Keegraul poked his head in after Hog Nose, curious as to the commotion. That's when the scarred man who had fought many battles with many adventurers, who never once met a human who treated him or his kin as equals, made eye contact with an exhausted person, pale from blood loss, fighting through their pain and fatigue, to make a dress for a little goblin girl. At least, that's what it looked like.

"What's going on here?" Keegraul meant to ask, but it came out as more of a demand.

Worried that they had offended him, (Reader) held up their hands. But Vix Ix beamed up at him, her large toothy grin radiating childish wonder. "(Reader's) making me a princess!"

"Oh, are they?" Keegraul released the tension he had been holding. The air smelled like blood, and at first he thought it was from the human's dead companions outside, but their broken leg was hard to miss. "It looks like they're dying."

Vix Ix ceased her bouncing, turning a terrified eye to (Reader). "Are you dying?"

(Reader) sent a quick glare to the adult goblin before shifting back to their comforting smile. "My leg just hurts, sweetheart. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Not if you don't get that taken care of." The goblin retorted, stepping closer and bending down to get a better look. He let out a noise of frustration. "I can't see anything but blood with these pants on."

Rough hands with broken nails peeled (Reader's) pants off, pausing whenever they sucked on their teeth in pain. The bone right beneath their knee was protruding from from it's flesh.

"That's a nasty break all right."

"Can you fix it?" The little boy goblin asked, still shaking from earlier, but now cradling his blade like a doll.

Delirious from exhaustion, (Reader) turned their smile to him. "What's your name?"

"Craak, or Hog Nose."

They could feel themselves about to pass out. "Hognose? That's my favorite snake. Cutest little snake I've ever seen.." Keegraul tightened their torn pants around their thigh, waking them up with the shooting pain.

(Reader) hissed, incapable of audibly screaming. "We should take you back to the hole, so that we can get that leg fixed up."

Vix Ix stood tall, arms straight in the air, with a determined look on her face. "You can lean on me!"

Keegraul sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'll find you a large stick for a crutch, and you can lean on my head for support." Vix Ix followed him, arguing about who got to support (Reader) on their journey, while Hog Nose stood shyly, still watching (Reader) with a small grin. "Did you mean that?"

(Reader) felt feverish, and couldn't focus their eyes. "Of course. You mean.. the snakes right? Never seen a cuter snake." Their breathing was labored, pausing between words awkwardly.

There was an odd blue tint forming on his baby cheeks, but it dissipated with the arrival of his little sister. "WE FOUND A STICK!"

The goblins all stared at the human receiving medical attention, gobsmacked. Everyone was incredibly interested in seeing who was special enough to be brought home by Keegraul. Especially the children, who were entranced by the dress (Reader) fixed up for Beetle Hands.

"Are you a princess?" A young girl asked, practically glowing.

"Haha no."

"Oh. Are you a prince?"

"Alright! Everyone go to bed!" Keegraul shooed the goblins back to the sleeping room. They all went back except a woman and Vix Ix. The lady seemed embarrassed, hiding herself by crossing her arms.

"You made this?"

"Yes. I have more dresses and fabric in the woods."

Her eyebrows were knit in what looked to be anger. "Why did you make a dress for Beetle Hands?"

"I just tailored it for her. Because she thought it was pretty."

"Yeah, but why?"

(Reader) smiled, understanding that the goblins must be suspicious of them. "Doesn't she look pretty?"

Vix Ix spun around, bumping into the other goblin. "I do!"

Her face softened. "You really think she's pretty?"

"Of course?" The goblin turned blue, like Hog Nose had earlier, and shuffled away.

(Reader) would later learn that her name was Reassa, and she warmed up to (Reader) quickly as they recuperated. In fact, all of the goblin tribe were incredibly welcoming to (Reader) to the family. They helped (Reader) between rooms, and generally fawned over them. As thanks for saving their life, (Reader) worked on reworking the dresses and fabrics the goblins found near the crash site into outfits for everyone. But as (Reader) got better, the goblins became more nervous.

"Are you thinking of leaving?" Keegraul wrung his hat in his hands, big sad eyes staring at (Reader) pleadingly.

"I'm sure my boss thinks I'm dead. It would be good to return home, and contact Marcus' family about his fate. But worry not, I won't tell anyone about you or the tribe." (Reader) smiled, practicing standing on their healing leg.

"That's not why I ask." (Reader) cocked their head, confused. "We trust you- I trust you. I know you wouldn't betray us. We- we'll just miss you."

Vix Ix popped out from behind a stack of boxes, knocking (Reader) to the ground, sobbing. "You're not leaving!"

Keegraul's heart broke. "Beetle -"

"No! Ti aim kahl, pen! (Reader's) not leaving!"

Reassa listened from outside the hole, along with three other women. They didn't understand. Didn't they make their love for (Reader) obvious enough? The flowers they would weave into crowns for them, the poems they world write for them..

One of the younger women started crying, head in her hands, choking on her sobs. Something dark grew in Reassa's chest, a feeling she often tried to force away, to prove to the world that they were wrong about goblins. A darkness, a possessiveness. "Maybe we should keep (Reader) here."

"We can't keep them against their will. They aren't a prisoner."

Reassa punched the entrance to their hollow, clenching her jaw tightly. "I love them."

"So do we.. but, what can we do?"

Hog Nose dropped a basket of vegetables. He had returned earlier than the other children. "Did you just say (Reader) is leaving?"

"Hog Nose! I'm so sorry, when did you get here?"

"I don't want them to leave!"

"I know, baby, but there's nothing-"

Hog Nose pulled out his dagger from it's sheath, rubbing his thumb across the beautiful golden vest (Reader) had made him as he did so. "(Reader) never learned our language."

"What?"

"What if the woods are too dangerous for them to go home? Because of the kahn piers?" The women all stopped, internally debating whether or not they could betray their fore mothers like this, lie to keep a human for themselves. But the decision was made for them, as Hog Nose slashed open his arm with the blade.

Inside the hole, (Reader) heard the women scream, and quickly wrestled Vix Ix to her feet so (Reader) could hobble to the opening. Reassa carried Hog Nose in her arms, a bloody mess, with a guilty expression on her face.

"What happened?" Keegraul demanded, watching as (Reader) pulled the little boy out of Reassa's arms to inspect the damage.

"He was attacked!" She collapsed, tearing at Keegraul's shirt.

"By what?!"

She swallowed hard, eyes flickering to (Reader), the motion only noticed by Keegraul and Vix Ix.

"Kahn piers."

Keegraul's eyes widened, realizing immediately what they had planned without discussing with him or the other men. "What kind of idiot-"

"What's a kahn pier?"

Vix Ix looked at her brother, witnessing him quickly shut the eye he was peaking out of. "Kahn piers are the most vile, evil creatures in these woods!" She cried out, grabbing onto her brother dramatically. "Hog Nose is lucky to be alive!"

Shame ripped through Keegraul's spirit, but seeing (Reader) shake with fear, imagining them doting on the children, caring for an the adults, watching them leave.

Wouldn't it be wonderful? Having (Reader) there to brighten their little home, loving the young ones as their own pen? Almost like a real spouse?

Even the way they clung onto Hog Nose's bloodied body, too broken up to notice that all his wounds were only surface deep.

Keegraul knew that everyone would play along, no one would tell (Reader) the truth. Everyone loved them so much, it was almost disturbing.

"Call everyone back home. The woods aren't safe."

#not proofread #so tired #I'm a little sick #so please forgive me #bad writing #platonic yandere #yandere family #yandere goblins #yandere monster #may come back later to proofread #i just wanted to get it out there lol

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txttletale · 5 months

Note

Once again this goes back to "artstyle theft" the idea that an ai using peoples artworks to train it to create art in said styles i would hardly call full on theft. Yes it is not good to do this especially without consent but a person can do the exact same thing and copy a persons "artstyle" based off of images that they have absorbed. It is building off of peoples artstyles like a normal person would, not to mention its a wide range of artists. I'm not saying that this isn't a bad thing on midjourney's end however it is similar to me getting a full reference dump of an artist's portfolio and basing everything off of said person's art. an Ai can never replicate a person's artstyle 100% or the little tells of a person's art. Either way. It goes back to do people theoretically own the artstyle which is within their art. In which I would say No. Nobody owns an artstyle. Just because it is using peoples art to build off of does not mean it is stealing their art fundementally. They are not putting your art up on their page claiming it is theirs. Your original art that was initially put for it to learn wont ever be fully recreated 100% by the ai. Nor will it ever get any of your little tells. The specific brush strokes. Nothing. I am not saying people don't have the right to be upset by an AI using their art to build it's generator. However Once again. It will never be able to completely replicate your own art. Maybe it is my opinion but I don't think this is necessarily going to hurt artists as much as one would think. Yes it has to do with the consent of your work being used however. As I have repeatedly said. Using your art to replicate your artstyle is not theft.

yeah i absolutely agree with the caveat that in your human artist example if you then went on to market yourself as being able to draw 'in the style of' whatever artist's stuff you learned from, you'd be a prety huge dick, & likewise i think it sucks of midjourney to actively market that as a selling point (although any world in which either of these things are legally actionable is a nightmare world). otherwise 100%.

#ask #ai art

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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months

Text

Private equity ghouls have a new way to steal from their investors

Private equity is quite a racket. PE managers pile up other peoples’ money — pension funds, plutes, other pools of money — and then “invest” it (buying businesses, loading them with debt, cutting wages, lowering quality and setting traps for customers). For this, they get an annual fee — 2% — of the money they manage, and a bonus for any profits they make.

On top of this, private equity bosses get to use the carried interest tax loophole, a scam that lets them treat this ordinary income as a capital gain, so they can pay half the taxes that a working stiff would pay on a regular salary. If you don’t know much about carried interest, you might think it has to do with “interest” on a loan or a deposit, but it’s way weirder. “Carried interest” is a tax regime designed for 16th century sea captains and their “interest” in the cargo they “carried”:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Private equity is a cancer. Its profits come from buying productive firms, loading them with debt, abusing their suppliers, workers and customers, and driving them into ground, stiffing all of them — and the company’s creditors. The mafia have a name for this. They call it a “bust out”:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

Private equity destroyed Toys R Us, Sears, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and many more companies beloved of Main Street, bled dry for Wall Street:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

And they’re coming for more. PE funds are “rolling up” thousands of Boomer-owned business as their owners retire. There’s a good chance that every funeral home, pet groomer and urgent care clinic within an hour’s drive of you is owned by a single PE firm. There’s 2.9m more Boomer-owned businesses going up for sale in the coming years, with 32m employees, and PE is set to buy ’em all:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

PE funds get their money from “institutional investors.” It shouldn’t surprise you to learn they treat their investors no better than their creditors, nor the customers, employees or suppliers of the businesses they buy.

Pension funds, in particular, are the perennial suckers at the poker table. My parent’s pension fund, the Ontario Teachers’ Fund, are every grifter’s favorite patsy, losing $90m to Sam Bankman-Fried’s cryptocurrency scam:

https://www.otpp.com/en-ca/about-us/news-and-insights/2022/ontario-teachers--statement-on-ftx/

Pension funds are neck-deep in private equity, paying steep fees for shitty returns. Imagine knowing that the reason you can’t afford your apartment anymore is your pension fund gambled with the private equity firm that bought your building and jacked up the rent — and still lost money:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/25/pluralistic-your-daily-link-dose-25-feb-2020/

But there’s no depth too low for PE looters to sink to. They’ve found an exciting new way to steal from their investors, a scam called a “continuation fund.” Writing in his latest newsletter, the great Matt Levine breaks it down:

https://news.bloomberglaw.com/mergers-and-acquisitions/matt-levines-money-stuff-buyout-funds-buy-from-themselves

Here’s the deal: say you’re a PE guy who’s raised a $1b fund. That entitles you to a 2% annual “carry” on the fund: $20,000,000/year. But you’ve managed to buy and asset strip so many productive businesses that it’s now worth $5b. Your carry doesn’t go up fivefold. You could sell the company and collect your 20% commission — $800m — but you stop collecting that annual carry.

But what if you do both? Here’s how: you create a “continuation fund” — a fund that buys your old fund’s portfolio. Now you’ve got $5b under management and your carry quintuples, to $100m/year. Levine dryly notes that the FT calls this “a controversial type of transaction”:

https://www.ft.com/content/11549c33-b97d-468b-8990-e6fd64294f85

These deals “look like a pyramid scheme” — one fund flips its assets to another fund, with the same manager running both funds. It’s a way to make the pie bigger, but to decrease the share (in both real and proportional terms) going to the pension funds and other institutional investors who backed the fund.

A PE boss is supposed to be a fiduciary, with a legal requirement to do what’s best for their investors. But when the same PE manager is the buyer and the seller, and when the sale takes place without inviting any outside bidders, how can they possibly resolve their conflict of interest?

They can’t: 42% of continuation fund deals involve a sale at a value lower than the one that the PE fund told their investors the assets were worth. Now, this may sound weird — if a PE boss wants to set a high initial value for their fund in order to maximize their carry, why would they sell its assets to the new fund at a discount?

Here’s Levine’s theory: if you’re a PE guy going back to your investors for money to put in a new fund, you’re more likely to succeed if you can show that their getting a bargain. So you raise $1b, build it up to $5b, and then tell your investors they can buy the new fund for only $3b. Sure, they can get out — and lose big. Or they can take the deal, get the new fund at a 40% discount — and the PE boss gets $60m/year for the next ten years, instead of the $20m they were getting before the continuation fund deal.

PE is devouring the productive economy and making the world’s richest people even richer. The one bright light? The FTC and DoJ Antitrust Division just published new merger guidelines that would make the PE acquire/debt-load/asset-strip model illegal:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2023/07/ftc-doj-seek-comment-draft-merger-guidelines

The bad news is that some sneaky fuck just slipped a 20% FTC budget cut — $50m/year — into the new appropriations bill:

https://twitter.com/matthewstoller/status/1681830706488438785

They’re scared, and they’re fighting dirty.

I’m at San Diego Comic-Con!

Today (Jul 20) 16h: Signing, Tor Books booth #2802 (free advance copies of The Lost Cause — Nov 2023 — to the first 50 people!)

Tomorrow (Jul 21):

1030h: Wish They All Could be CA MCs, room 24ABC (panel)

12h: Signing, AA09

Sat, Jul 22 15h: The Worlds We Return To, room 23ABC (panel)

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/20/continuation-fraud/#buyout-groups

[Image ID: An old Punch editorial cartoon depicting a bank-robber sticking up a group of businesspeople and workers. He wears a bandanna emblazoned with dollar-signs and a top-hat.]

#pluralistic #buyout groups #continuation fraud #pe #pyramid schemes #the sucker at the table #pension plans #continuation funds #matt levine #fiduciaries #finance #private equity #mark to market #ripoffs

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oftenderweapons · 3 months

Text

London Calling | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, smut, pwp, established relationship!AU, idol!Au, Married!AU

Rating: 18+; minors, please do not interact

Synopsis: Vixen has decided to distract herself from Namjoon's incumbent enlistment by focusing on her job. She has accepted adding more international works to her portfolio and is currently in London; too bad Namjoon can't help but post risqué pictures on his Instagram, and it really seems he's doing so to try and get her attention.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, Fear of infidelity, Nostalgia. Extremely mild DDLG dynamics, Babygirl!Vixen, Brat!Vixen, Phone sex, Masturbation, Dirty talking. Mentions of: Oral sex (both male and female receiving), Lingerie kink, Sex toys, Spanking. Oh, and one of Joon's friends simps for Vixen.

As usual, you can find my masterlist right here! I wouldn't mind if you took a few seconds to leave a comment or reblog my fic 🥰 Also, my requests are always open!!!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Been hearing someone’s on their worst behaviour.”

Namjoon’s chuckle on the opposite end of the line is everything you need to know. “What can I say, my last moral anchor is busy girlbossing around the world.” He licks his lips and sits down on the sofa, his friends messing around his kitchen, beers and liquors spread around your marble counter. “I’m missing my lucky star.”

“Your guardian angel.”

“My only angel,” he flirts.

The game is back on between you and Namjoon. Ever since you decided to stop waiting around for his enlistment and have started accepting international projects on your portfolio, it’s like no matter where either of you are, it’s always time to flirt on the phone.

Or mess around even more.

He’s touched down in London for you about two weeks ago, showing up at your hotel room with an Agent Provocateur bag dangling from his pretty fingers and the kind of smile that always gets you shimmying out of your panties.

“What are you up to, love? What time is it over there?”

“Uh-huh. I’m the one doing the asking here, mister.”

He puts his glass back on the coffee table, and leans over with his elbows on his knees. “I’m just trying to feed my imagination, little fox. What’s a boy to do, with an empty bed and a sexy wife on the other side of the world?”

“I don’t know, maybe be more careful before talking talks he can’t walk?” you suggest.

He lowers his voice before saying, “You’d be over my knee right now, you know?”

You decide to talk back, just to mess him up further. Your voice is like midnight fog when you tell him, “you’d have to catch me first.”

He steals a glance towards the kitchen. This feels an awful lot like when the two of you began hanging out — the secrecy, the craving, the distance, and the pining. Except this time you have rings on your hands and there’s no doubting loyalty, not on his nor your behalf.

He toys with his own ring, tracing it with his thumb, twisting it a little to the left, then to the right, back and forth.

“It seems you appreciated that quick leak…”

You click your tongue. “One of these days you’re gonna end up naked in those pics and I’ll have to come home to do damage control.”

“Is that all it takes to have you back home? I miss my territorial little vixen.” He stares at your stash of books in the bookshelf, standing tall right next to his, but looking twice more put together.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been acting sluttier lately.”

“At least I haven’t gone entirely shirtless yet.” He picks up the glass again and you hear him swallowing through the line. “Unlike some of my friends. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky, you say?”

He hears the sound of a glass being put down. “Are you drinking, babygirl?”

You cock an eyebrow and stare at your glass of red wine. “I’m dined and wined. You know which bit is missing. But it seems you’re not that deserving.”

“What did you eat?” He doesn’t grant you the courtesy of winning this sensual verbal sparring. That tiny comment about being dined and wined was a trap, he can tell. Looking so casual and half-hearted can only mean you expected him to go there, and if he does, he’ll probably end up right where you wanted him.

He can do better.

“I had a steak. With a lovely truffle cream. I’ll have to make it for you next time you’re around.” Your reply comes off beat, and he smiles, happy that he caught you off guard.

If this were a match of martial arts, you’d be dwindling a little, your balance compromised. “I’d love to. Miss your tiramisu. Your cheesecake. Your aglio e olio. Your sweet little ass working around the kitchen.”

You laugh, the sound as bright and heartstopping as ever. Blood rushes to his cheeks. He loves making you laugh. “You got the guys over, I assume? Four in the morning?”

“We just finished working. Like maybe an hour ago or so.” He can’t keep calm anymore. Everytime you call him when he’s home, his gaze keeps wandering to every piece of it that belongs to you.

Sometimes it’s suffocating. Sometimes he sleeps back at the studio. Sometimes he stays over at other people’s places.

Now it’s the portrait of your orchids that you had commissioned for him. It sits next to his bonsais, so he can think of your collection each time he’s watering his own.

Sometimes he wonders who is whose subtext, because at times he thinks you’re the one who picked up habits from him, other times he thinks it’s him who accidentally got into certain hobbies through the years so he could be your exact shadow once the two of you finally met and aligned.

“Also, you’re calling at four in the morning,” he observes. “Oh…” He rubs the back of his head, then plops back on the sofa, as if he were deflating slowly. “Right. I’m your booty call.” He chuckles. “Almost forgot.”

“I can find someone else in a more suitable time zone, if that sits well with you,” you reply, your tone just a tiny bit annoyed. His nonchalance irks you just a little.

“That your sneaky link, man?” you hear someone holler on his side.

“So now I’m miss sneaky link, huh? Not bad, mister booty call.” You click your tongue. “I’ll leave you to your friends. I thought you were alone, didn’t mean to disturb.” This could be your chance to win this match.

“No, don’t go because they’re about to. Kind of right now,” he says, looking towards the kitchen and nodding towards the door. “Sorry guys. Vixen’s rule.”

“He don’t deserve you, honey,” one of his friends calls. “Just one chance, miss. Kindly.”

“We’re literally married,” he tells the guy, then to you, “Bum says hi.”

“Oh, hi sweetie. What are your thoughts on the London timezone?” you ask, coquettishly.

“Careful, fox.” Namjoon’s voice is stern when it comes on. It makes you sit taller on your seat, redirecting the pressure in between your thighs. “And you’d better not reply, Bum.”

The guy stares at Namjoon as he says. “For you, anything, my queen. Though, from personal experience, it’s excellent for your late nights and our early mornings. If you know you know,” Bum suggests.

Namjoon slaps the guy’s back with the most sarcastic smile on his face. “Time to go, dude.”

“Starcrossed lovers, that’s our fate, my queen.”

You laugh loudly and Namjoon is a little annoyed. “All the great loves are those that never happened, Bum.”

“Guys, I’m literally right here!?” Namjoon says, embarrassed and just a tad annoyed. “You, get out of my house. And stop trying to seduce my wife.”

“Bum, can you keep an eye on him? Kinda worried I might not be the only sneaky link of his.” You joke about it, but deep down, there’s always a sliver of worry in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if some of his friends were encouraging him to be unloyal to you just because you decided to push forward with your career.

“He’s too busy panting for you to even begin thinking about someone else.” Bum’s putting on his shoes by the door, hushered by Namjoon. His three other friends are similarly getting dressed, laughing at the exchange.

“Literally, Vixen—”

Namjoon looks like he’s baring his teeth at Bum using his nickname for you.

“He’s whipped. We keep him in check, but it’s like guarding a leashed little puppy.”

You giggle, sweet and endeared. “Good. That’s the way I like him.” You lick your lips. “Make sure he doesn’t bare his ass on Instagram.”

“So you’re falling for his little thirst traps?” Bum’s laugh booms in the room and Namjoon wacks him on the head, worried about the neighbours. Also, he doesn’t like admitting that when he posts, he’s thinking about the way you would react when seeing him.

“You know how I am, Bum. I’m always falling for him,” you confess, cheesy and utterly honest at the same time.

Namjoon smiles like the cat who got the cream. “That’s sweet, babygirl. The guys are leaving now. Bye guys,” he says quickly, finally kicking them out.

You try to say bye in return, but you hear the door close and Namjoon is immediately all over you. “Always falling for me, huh?” He heads back towards the sofa. “That’s new.”

“That’s actually so, so old.” You roll your eyes but smile through it anyways.

“You’re my only sneaky link, Vixen. Still got your claw marks all over my back, by the way. Lovely touch.”

“Gotta mark my territory,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Wanna switch this over to a video call?” he suggests, already undoing the first button of his shirt.

“Just so I can be reminded I’m not over there fucking you right?” You snort bitterly. “No way.”

“We could make this our own personal porno,” he suggests, grateful that his trousers are baggy enough to give him extra space around the crotch. “Just a little visual aid.”

“You’re telling me you don’t remember how I rode you last time?” You undo the little bow at the waistband of your pyjama pants, your fingertips tiptoeing around the elastic of your panties.

“Let’s say I wouldn’t mind having a bit more than a memory to hold on to.” As if telepathically connected, he’s also undoing the button and zip of his denim cargos.

“Fair. You usually hold on to my hips while I fuck you.”

He hisses, head thrown back. “And you hold on to my throat when I’ve been an exceptionally good boy.”

A shiver screeches down your torso, then spreads through your midriff and settles somewhere at the small of your back, as if recalling the phantom touch of his hand, of his thumbs imprinting themselves in the twin dimples at the base of your spine. He likes resting his fingers there when he’s taking you from behind. It’s like the little dips were designed for his digits to rest there.

“You’re such a lucky little fucker,” you tease him and he one-ups you,

“I fucking am, but last time I checked you usually sort of profit from it.”

Your sultry laugh is his favourite form of payment — right now he’s richer than he’s ever been.

“Are your hands free, love?”

You let him hang there for a couple long seconds, your breathing heavy. “They’d be freer if you were here,” you tell him. “Maybe not.”

“They’d be all over me, and you know it, little fox.” He purrs as his hand finds a good spot. He’s not yet actually touching himself, but he’s definitely teasing. “Got on a fucking plane for those hands.”

“You flew for twelve hours for these hands.”

“And for that ass,” he adds, quick-witted.

Your laugh is more of a snort. “And that too.”

His zipper is undone, he dips his hand under the waistband of his briefs, shifting it downwards. “For that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers. “Just to kiss it for a bunch of hours.”

“It was very grateful,” you remind him, trying to bluff the fact that your middle finger is now circling your clitoris.

“I remember that.” His heartbeat is starting to accelerate. “I had to stop it from being a little bit too grateful.” He remembers the silky feeling of your hair in between his fingers, the tension in your hand on his thigh as you tried to take more of him. “My birthday girl,” he hums. “And yet, I was the lucky bastard who got presents.” The sight of you in that powder pink corset, with the delicate ruffles, and the feather trims tracing the top of your breasts, palpitating with every single excited breath you took.

It had been like seeing a map of your arousal, goosebumps rising on any inch of skin he had dared lay his eyes on.

“You were so responsive,” he whispered. “You were so fucking wet.”

“You teased me for almost an hour,” you object.

“I’ll have to make it two hours next time then.” He’s throbbing in his own palm, circling his tip, hissing when he hits a too-sensitive spot. “Maybe with the tickler still.”

“It was delightful, I will admit that.” You’re leaning on your hand now, cupped between your thighs. “Wish your face was between my legs.”

“Wish you were sitting on it, baby.” He bites his lip, as if he could recall the feel, the taste of you on his mouth. “Can’t believe it’s been two weeks already.”

“I can’t wait to be home,” you moan.

He can tell you’re touching yourself, from your ragged breathing, and from the way your voice has become more vulnerable, and more impatient too. “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule when you do. We can do that ‘seven days a week’ type of shit.”

You moan and he laughs to himself.

“Are you gonna come for me, my love?” he asks fondly, his voice like a dark caress. “Are you thinking about my mouth fucking you? About my tongue stroking you, feeling how wet and warm and sweet you are?”

“Joon, please,” you beg, a desperate little laugh.

“No need to beg, babygirl. You can have everything you want when you’re with me,” he continues, with his calm, direct voice. “You can take it, love. You can have me deep inside you, and you can suck on my fingers if you’re struggling to keep your voice down.” He’s quickened his own pace, trying to climb as fast as you do. “Or you can be loud, and tell the neighbours who’s making you feel this good.”

“When I get home I want you to mess me up for days. You’re gonna mark me, and make love to me and fuck me and feed me. You’re gonna cuddle me to sleep, then wake me up with your hand between my legs.”

You’re holding your breath as you speak, your high approaching like an incumbent, massive wave.

“I promise, love.”

“Are you coming too?” you ask, and he hums simply.

“I’m close.”

“I want you to fuck me while I sit on your lap.”

“On the sofa?”

“On the sofa, on the floor, in bed, I don’t care.” You gasp, then chuckle as you hit an indecently good angle with your fingers. “I want to hold you as we make love.”

“You will, baby.”

“I wanna whisper in your ear that you’re my one and only. That you’re the only one in the whole world who can get me this good.”

He loves when you get emotional during sex. He loves when you start to ramble and you tell him all those things you usually keep to yourself. “I can’t wait either. I miss you in bed. I miss you at every meal, I miss going to our galleries. I miss every fucking thing.” He’s getting desperate. “And most of all, I miss those eyes on me.”

“I’m coming,” you gasp, out of the blue, the idea of sitting on his lap, naked, making love to him, your mouth clamped around the crook of his shoulder to keep quiet, his hands tracing your back, his eyes looking for yours, for confirmation, for loyalty, for reassurance, for companionship.

“That’s my darling.” He can let go now, and he fucks his hand with intention, with neat powerful jerks. He helps himself with strong thrusts of his pelvis, and precise tugs of his hand too. He grunts when he hears your sweet whimpers on your side of the call, and finally he follows you into pleasure, with the image of your head thrown back, your plump lips agape, your hair tumbling wild behind you as you bounce on him.

He can almost feel the aftertaste of your perspiration on the tip of his tongue.

“Wow,” you say as soon as you manage to recollect yourself.

He’s still sort of numb, his orgasm spilled on his stomach and happy trail. Just a glimpse down and he’s already envisioned the phantom of you studying his semen, lowering yourself to his navel and tracing it with your digit, only to bring it to your mouth to have a taste. He clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“Damn, I wanna cuddle the fuck out of you and you’re too far away.” He reaches for a tissue to clean himself quickly. “I guess that’s why we don’t do this more often. I miss the aftercare.” He pulls himself back in his briefs, then blocks his phone between his shoulder and ear and stands to get rid of the tissue. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Hunting for chocolate.”

“Oh, baby…” He giggles, endeared. “Should I order something for you?”

“No… it’s okay.” You’re a little bit sad, but you try your best not to let it show.”

“Not even those glass beads you’d seen on our favourite website?”

You widen your eyes. “Let’s not make say things we don’t mean now...”

Namjoon laughs fondly. “Thought so.” He waits a little. “We can just talk, by the way. Or you can go grab a toy and we can keep going with this. We could discuss in great details what you intend to do to me once you’re back.”

“We could do that. Or we could video call and you could watch me hump this little thing you got me.”

He grins. “Then let me get comfy. We’ve got quite the night coming up.”

You smile. “We do.”

He hesitates. “We don’t have to, you know? If you don’t want to video call. I’m okay with just hearing you.”

You pause. Your love for him multiplies exponentially in your chest. “Sure we don’t have to. But I want to.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay.”

“Get comfy, lucky boy,” you tease him.

“I’ll be right there.”

It’s almost six in the morning when you fall asleep. He’s propped the phone right beside him on the pillow and though he’s found himself dropping it a couple times, he’s refused to let go until he was sure you were asleep.

Now he closes the video call and locks his phone, putting it back on the nightstand. He pulls your pillow close, hugging it to his chest, then throws a leg on top of it. He places another pillow in between his legs, where your thighs would normally tangle with his.

He breathes in the vague scent of you left on the bed — not much since the sheets have been changed and he can only smell the laundry scent you normally use, of sandalwood and cedar, warm and spicy.

Twenty-three days.

He can handle it.

He falls asleep with the memory of your body like ivy against his own. Even this far apart, he is and will always be covered in you.

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