#but all people need to know is that i use they/them for professional settings and she/her for friends and family

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

��Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki smut #loki comedy #island fic #deserted island #alone with loki #enemies to lovers #Avenger!Loki #Avengers #Island AU #Smutty loki #island fever #thor #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #rescue fic #deserted island trope #marvel loki

[osshisan]

currently in the severely not-fun part of every college semester when i'm reading through my course syllabi before any work has begun and already wanting to vomit from nerves

#PARTICULARLY with my pre-professional experience because i'm responsible for setting up my job-shadowing/volunteering experiences #which means Contacting Them Myself #as well as trying to think of how to fit the time needed for that into my weekly schedule and get enough hours to pass #i am a scared scared little man who's shit at talking to people and knowing what to say ever #also not our handbook encouraging us to do some of it at home beforehand.... girl i had to WORK ALL SUMMER #u uuhgu ghu hhghhggk gmkfmhgjk just kill me instead maybe? please? #i may do volunteer work since the class expects you to spend all the time at one site rather than several different ones for shadowing #volunteering is one thing i've never done and looks great on resumes right.... #.txt

[bmpmp3]

i NEEED to be more annoying about being mixed race in public i keep forgetting how dire it is. sometimes i point out stuff in like visual culture classes about like a magazine cover with a biracial model or something and it blows peoples MINDS because the whole class forgot mixed people were real

#sometimes im like nooooo i shouldnt be too loud about it people find it annoyinggggg sometimes #but then i remember. if i dont. my white peers. i love them i do they're ready to learn and they do a lot of thinking #once you point stuff out. but by god you need to point this stuff out first LOL classmates put a lot of care and thought into all kinds of #issues but HOO baby. race is a BIG blind spot for a lot of em hfkjdjdkfh #i just get surprised is all. i didnt realize how little the average non-mixed-race person thinks about this stuff #i like to call myself whiteboy. because i think thats funny. its my internal monologue. but also i am not actually whiteboy #and i forget the real whiteboys (gender neutral?) dont know much about mixed issues hjskasjfkd #oh speaking of i guess as a quick primer: i should probably mention. i tend to call myself mixed race #just the terminology i grew up with. but in most professional and academic settings i'll use biracial or multiracial where applicable #or when referring to people who are not myself or someone i know prefers the term mixed #i dont know why i like the term mixed. maybe its just easier to say and explain LOL but yeah #not everyone likes the term mixed race so its usually better to call someone biracial or multiracial if you dont know #multiracial identities are vast and can be vastly different. one persons experience is much different from anothers #my experience is different from my older brothers and we have the same parents and look pretty alike #and our experiences are different from like. my biracial cousin who grew up in the US #and all of us have different experiences than the only other multiracial classmate ive had in years #really the best thing is to read stuff written by multiracial people. books articles blogs. watch video content #theres a lot to learn constantly even if youre multiracial yourself! lots of people on this earth. but it can be fun! #interesting and fun to connect with others by listening to their stories and experiences!

[lixiepixiedust]

Peach to my Mario

pairing — idolbf!leeknow x f!reader (From the Unveiling Love series!)

word count — 2.7k words

warnings — she/her reader, tiny bit of angst, stress, tooth-rotting fluff

summary — Minho always avoids showing affection to you in public which makes his friends and members worry about his relationship, thinking it might not be healthy. However, in private, Minho’s a completely different person. One day, he comes home early and takes the chance to invite you over. During a little gaming sesh, his members accidentally walk in on him being overly sweet with you.

It was just part of Minho's nature to avoid PDA. He never showed affection when you were out with friends, and he wasn't the type of guy to show you off or post you on social media, even on his private account. When you first started dating, you went out to dinner with Minho and some of his members and their partners. It was the first time you were out with him around other people. Whenever you tried to initiate any contact with him, he'd gently push you away and give you a look that said, "Not here," which, at first, bothered you.

This constant habit didn't go unnoticed by his members. They saw how he acted with you around them, which made them worry about your relationship. Some even talked to Minho, suggesting he show more affection, but he always replied with, "I know what I'm doing." This left them wondering, "Are they even a happy couple?" because that's all they knew. They were never shown the real side of Minho in a relationship.

You eventually got used to it over time, as he had a way of making up for it. When you two were alone, he was the sweetest. He showered you with love, and he wasn't afraid to show emotion. It was fascinating to see how different a person he could be depending on the setting, and as his girlfriend, you somewhat liked this duality. When he'd get home from an outing with you, he'd immediately pull you into a hug and smother you with kisses, becoming a completely different person than he was a minute ago.

You didn't complain about the lack of PDA anymore because you were grateful that Minho saw you as someone he could be vulnerable with. He wasn't afraid to share his struggles and ask for your help, and you appreciated the connection you had with him in this way. It was so rare for him to have such a bond with someone, which made it so precious.

One day, Minho arrived at his dorms earlier than usual, and it was a particularly stressful day. They were approaching a comeback, and the choreography needed to be finalized with a tight deadline. A professional choreographer was scheduled to review their dance, and they had to have it perfected by then. The pressure was especially heavy on Minho, as he was responsible for everything, being the main dancer in the group. Comeback season always brought a lot of stress for all of them. The producers had to handle the tracks, and they had to attend numerous meetings discussing potential concerts and promotions.

Usually, during this stressful and overworked period, he would be staying late at the company, leaving little time at home. So, it was rather unusual for him to arrive home early. When Minho reached the door of his dorm, he tossed his bag onto the couch and slumped into a seat. He unscrewed a plastic water bottle and downed it in a few gulps. Minho buried his face in his hands, threw his head back, and released an exasperated sigh.

He took his phone out of the front pocket of his backpack and texted your number.

"y/n, do you have a minute?"

right after he sent it out, it showed as "read," with an icon popping up indicating that you were typing. 

"yea, of course. is everything alright?"

"i just wanna see you. and no one's home yet."

It shocked you that he was home already. You hadn't seen him for two weeks, given how busy he had been and how little time he had for himself. So, to you, it was surprising that he had texted you. You responded with a simple "kk" before getting up and preparing to leave. You were wearing gray sweatpants and one of Minho's shirts, but you decided not to bother changing, as it looked presentable enough. After all, it was just Minho.

You grabbed Minho's keys and phone, locking your own door as you left your apartment. Even though you had a car, navigating the busy downtown Seoul intersections often took longer than walking. Luckily, Minho's dorms were only a few blocks away, making it a short five to ten-minute walk. Upon reaching his building, you scanned your keycard at the lobby and opened the door after hearing the click. Minho had given you an extra keycard so you could visit him, although his roommates were unaware of this, as it wasn't something they would necessarily know.

You rode the elevator up to his floor, which was located quite high up, just one floor below the penthouses. Minho's apartment was notably larger compared to the others in the building, as he shared it with three of his group members. You went down the hallway and stopped when you saw his unit number.

You gently knocked on the door, not wanting to startle him. There was silence, so you decided to try the doorknob, and it turned out to be unlocked. You entered, taking your shoes off at the entrance before quietly making your way to the living room. As you entered the room, you found Minho sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the floor.

"Minho" You called out.

He jumped, snapping out of his thoughts and turned his head towards you. "You scared me"

"Did you not hear me come in?"  You chuckled.

Minho shook his head, a small smile forming on his face. "I guess I was too lost in my own world."

You walked over and sat beside him, giving him a gentle smile. "Long day?" He nodded and leaned into your touch.

You wrapped your arm around him. "What can I do to help you relax?"

Minho sighed, looking at you with gratitude. "Just being here is enough. I missed you."

You smiled, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. "I missed you too, Minho. "

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"Anytime," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "Why are you back so early, hm? Where's everyone else."

"They're still at the company, working on their own stuff now. I needed a break from the choreo, I couldn't think straight anymore," Minho confessed, rubbing his temples.

It was rare for him to take breaks for himself so you were glad he reached out to you in this moment. You continued to comfort him, running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

"You know you don't have to carry all the weight on your own, right?" you reassured him.

Minho nodded, appreciating your support. "I know, it's just... sometimes I forget."

"Well, that's what I'm here for – to remind you," you said with a soft smile.

Minho leaned into your touch, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a deep breath. "I'm lucky to have you," he murmured.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the weight of the day slowly lift off Minho's shoulders. You could sense the exhaustion in him, not just physical but also the mental strain of the responsibilities he carried. 

I gave a him a gentle squeeze. "Wanna play something?"

Minho looked at you, exhaustion still lingering in his eyes but a genuine smile playing on his lips. "That sounds good."

You made your way to the Nintendo Switch (Felix's, obviously) and powered up Mario Kart. As the game loaded, you handed Minho a controller, and soon, both of you were engrossed in the competition. The colorful characters on the screen and the playful banter between you and Minho helped to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

As you played, you couldn't help but notice the transformation in Minho. The stress lines on his face seemed to fade, replaced by genuine smiles and occasional laughter. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the private side of Minho that he rarely showed to the outside world.

"You're gonna lose so bad, Y/n, you don't know," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yea sure," you shot back, a smirk playing on your lips.

The races became more heated, with Minho throwing himself into the game, making exaggerated gestures as he maneuvered his virtual car. Every time you pulled ahead, he'd let out a theatrical groan, clutching his heart.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me!" he'd exclaim in horror, slumping dramatically in his seat.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Come on, Minho, it's just a game!"

But for Minho, it was more than just a game. It was a battle, a challenge that he took very seriously. When the races got particularly close, he'd lean in closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing in concentration. And when you crossed the finish line first, Minho faked his death right on that couch. He'd plopped onto your lap and stick out his tongue.

As you and Minho continued playing, the atmosphere lightened, and the stress from earlier seemed to dissipate. The room echoed with laughter as the two of you engaged in a fierce Mario Kart competition. 

However, little did you both know that the other boys had finished their work and were on their way back to the dorm. As two of them approached the door, they exchanged glances, wondering if Minho was still immersed in his work or if he had finally decided to take a break.

As the door creaked open, Minho was in the midst of a loud cheer, having won a close race. Your lips formed a fake pout, teasing Minho for his impressive gaming skills. Before you could utter a word, Minho grabbed your face and planted a sweet kiss on your lips. With a satisfied grin, he plopped back down onto your lap, his eyes shifting to the TV which displayed his victory.

His eyes were fixed on the screen, and he didn't notice the entrance of his fellow members. Seungmin and Felix stood frozen for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene before them.

Minho, still admiring his victory, suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. His eyes flickered from the screen to your face, and then he followed your gaze to the open doorway. There, standing in various states of shock and amusement, were his friends.

Minho's cheerful expression faltered as he registered their presence. He quickly disentangled himself from your lap, clearing his throat awkwardly and avoiding eye contact.

"Hey," he mumbled, attempting to regain his composure.

Minho's sudden change in behaviour didn't go unnoticed by them. The two exchanged puzzled glances, silently communicating their surprise at witnessing a side of Minho they had never seen before.

Seungmin smirked. "Didn't know playing video games could be so... intimate."

Minho's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he tried to brush off the situation. "No, just taking a break from choreo. Y/n happened to drop by."

You offered a friendly wave to the members, trying to diffuse the tension. "Long time no see."

"Didn't know he had such a soft side for you." Felix looked in your direction.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Minho, you've been keeping this hidden from us."

Minho avoided making eye contact with anyone. "It's not a big deal. We're just hanging out."

Felix interjected, "Alright, alright, let the man breathe. Maybe he's just trying out a new gaming strategy."

Seungmin smirked, "Yeah, because everyone knows that cuddling enhances your Mario Kart skills."

Minho sighed, realizing he was caught in a situation he couldn't easily escape. The members, still amused, decided to join the gaming session, pulling up chairs and grabbing controllers. The atmosphere lightened up again as everyone got immersed in the races. Amidst the gaming chaos, you felt a subtle shift beside you. Glancing at Minho, you noticed a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. Seizing the opportunity, you casually leaned against him, and to your surprise, Minho didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer.

Felix, ever observant, caught the moment and exchanged a knowing look with Seungmin. A mischievous grin spread across Felix's face as he nudged Seungmin, who raised an eyebrow in response. It seemed like the members were enjoying this unexpected revelation of Minho's softer side. Minho's hesitancy towards PDA seemed to going away slightly. He didn't shy away when you rested your head on his shoulder, and he even tickled you a little during one of the races. 

The night turned into a fun and lighthearted gathering, with laughter filling the air as everyone bonded over Mario Kart. The initial surprise at seeing Minho in a more vulnerable and relaxed state slowly faded, replaced by acceptance and genuine enjoyment of the moment. As the clock ticked away, the group decided to take a break from gaming and sat together in the living room, sharing stories and enjoying the dinner Jeongin had eventually brought. It was during these moments that you could see a different side of Minho showing the side that wasn't afraid to be affectionate in front of his friends.

The members of Stray Kids, who had initially been concerned about Minho's reserved nature in public, began to see the depth of his relationship with you. They witnessed the way he looked at you, the way he smiled, and the subtle gestures of affection that spoke volumes about the connection you shared.

After dinner, as the night wound down, the members bid their goodbyes, as you went over to the door to leave. Minho stood up, indicating that he would walk you home. The others exchanged knowing glances, teasing smiles playing on their lips. 

As you and Minho stepped out of the dorm, the cool night air greeted you. The city lights illuminated the streets as you began the short walk to your apartment. The atmosphere was comfortable, a companionable silence settling between you and Minho.

"I appreciate you coming over," Minho said, his tone sincere. "It's been a hectic few weeks, and tonight was exactly what I needed."

"I'm glad I could be here for you," you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't always have to carry everything on your own, Minho. It's okay to lean on others, especially those who care about you."

He nodded, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you,"

"Anytime," you replied, giving him a soft smile. "It was nice spending time with everyone."

Minho nodded, his hand finding yours. "I guess they know now," he added with a hint of playfulness.

You chuckled. "Well, it's not a bad thing. They seem to like this side of you."

He smirked. "Yeah, yeah, I can't escape their teasing now. They're gonna tell the other dorm all about it"

You squeezed his hand. "You'll be alright. Besides, it's nice to see you letting your guard down a bit."

Minho leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I guess you have that effect on me."

As you reached your apartment building, you turned to face Minho. "Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight."

Minho smiled, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. "No, thank you. I needed this more than you know."

You both exchanged a loving gaze, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. With a final goodnight, you entered your building, watching as Minho waited until you were safely inside.

As you settled on your couch, you decided to check your social media accounts before getting ready for bed. As you scrolled through your feed, you noticed a notification on Minho's private Instagram account. It surprised you because Minho rarely posted anything on his private account, and he had never posted a picture of the two of you before.

Opening the post, your heart skipped a beat as you saw a candid shot one of his members must've taken from tonight. It perfectly captured the essence of the night – both of you smiling at each other, a shared blanket over your laps, and controllers in hand. 

The caption read: "Peach to my Mario"

Feeling a mix of emotions, you couldn't help but smile at the post. It was a small but significant step for Minho to share a piece of your relationship with the world, even if it was just on his private account. 

"Photo credits?" One of the comments read, from Seungmin.

As you liked and replied to a few comments, you couldn't shake the feeling that this marked a subtle shift in Minho's approach to PDA. Maybe, just maybe, the night had not only been a release for him but also a realization that sharing moments of vulnerability with you and his friends wasn't something to be afraid of.

#lee know #lee know one shot #lee know skz #skz lee know #lee know fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids comfort #lee know fic #lee know imagines #soft #fluff #lee know fanfiction #lee know fanfic

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

[shirecorn]

How tall is Shirecorn?

It occurs to me that I never specified how tall my fursona is. Horses are typically measured in Hands, which is about the width of an adult's hand, measured from thumb to pinky and stacked like so:

The hands reach up to the withers (shoulder) of a horse, rather than measuring up to their head.

The top of the withers is actually determined by the long bones that protrude off the back of the spine, rather than the upper edge of the horse's shoulder blade. It's a bit of a misnomer to call them bones, as they are part of the vertebra, not joints connected to it.

You have spines too, but yours are not as pronounced as those of ungulates (hoofed mammals) nor as epic as spinosaurus.

in horses, the muscle that lays on top of these bones determines the height of the withers.

A "Hand," understood as a standardized unit, is equal to 4 inches, 10.16 centimeters. Modern competitions and the professional horse world measure exact to the withers height in centimeters, but your average cowboy still talks in hands.

The first horse is 14 hands, so 56 inches/142.24 centimeters at the shoulder. That's on the smaller end of average for a horse! For those whose perception of height is compared to their own, that's 4'8, so the shoulder is below the top of most peoples' heads.

The tallest horse breed in the world is the shire horse.

These massive horses can reach 19 hands tall! To make it even, let's have both our guy and our shire be 17.5 hands tall. That's 5'10, 178 CM at the shoulder and top of withers.

Where does Shirecorn fit into this?

I represent myself as a shire unicorn with fluffy feet and a blueish coat. Until today, everyone has had to guess my height whenever drawing or picturing me. I haven't really gotten into it because I knew I needed to explains hands, withers, and average horse heights. But with all that out of the way, I have created a height chart to show Bo vs a typical shire, vs a human.

Don't get distracted by the typical shire silhouette. I just threw that in there to show how I measure up.

This is me:

That's right, I am 1 hand tall. That's 4 inches, or about 10 cm, measured at the withers! If you use the top of my horn, you'll get the wrong height.

But now that you know how to measure a horse, you can picture me in all my Shirecorn glory.

Go ahead, put in pocket. Take on adventure. Set me free. Stack shirecorns up to measure horses and humans alike. The power is in your hands.

#shire #shire horse #shire unicorn #art tips #horse #horse height #shirecorn #fursona #bo #shire draws #ponysona

[pftones3482]

I want to be excited for the live action Little Mermaid so badly

The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie. Anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with mermaids as a whole and will watch any media that has them. Hell, I own my own tails and monofins. But every time I see a gif or a video for the new Little Mermaid, I cringe

(btw, this is NOT because of the casting. If you're against this movie because Ariel is black, you're a racist piece of shit and this post isn't for you)

My issue lies with the CGI. It just looks so FAKE. We've seen through the course of movies and TV shows that use it that CGI does not age well, and that's because technology is constantly improving. What was impressive in 2005 is not impressive in 2023 (Just look at Aquamarine, another movie about mermaids). And the CGI on Ariel and her sisters already looks fake and the movie isn't even out yet!

Compare this image from the trailer

To this screenshot from H20: Just Add Water (a TV show that came out in 2006):

You can see the details of the scales in the second image

The first image is flat. Sure, it's colorful, but it's flat. It's fake. Halle herself is the most beautiful and alive part of the image, because everything else is fake

The difference?

H20 had costume designers, ones specifically trained in mermaid tail making, HAND CRAFT every tail on the show. All of the scales were hand laid, all the tails molded to fit the actors/actresses perfectly, painted by hand

Let's even look at someone with no affiliation to TV or movies:

This is Mermaid Linden, a very well known (in the mermaid community) professional mermaid. You can tell her tail is not as high quality as the ones made for H20 (though it's still a VERY expensive tail) - but it still looks like it's a part of her. You can still see the details. Because professional mermaid tails are also all handmade and molded to fit each person. Even if they don't lay every individual scale, good professional mermaid tail makers are very meticulous about what they do.

This is what happens when Disney refuses to pay practical effects artists. We could have had beautiful, handmade tails that would look real on screen for decades to come and could be reused for promotional purposes - instead, they're underpaying and overworking their non-unionized employees to make CGI tails that don't even look real now.

(to be clear, I'm not shitting on the artists. As I said, they're being underpaid and overworked. This is not their fault)

And before anyone comes and says "But swimming in those is difficult!" Absolutely it is. You should never swim in a professional level tail (or even just fabric tails) without practice and training. Which Disney could have given the cast if they were willing to PAY people (the cast of H20 [a TV SHOW] literally learned how to be mermaids on set. It's been done before)

Disney's "Live Action" needs to be rebranded as "CGI with some real people tossed in" because that's all any of these remakes have been, and it's exhausting when I look at what we could have had.

#tlm #the little mermaid #h20 #disney #mermaids #professional mermaids #also trust me when i say i think all cgi mermaid tails look bad #but for some reason these ones just look so much worse #we saw the same thing happen with the 'live action' lion king #the lions looked SO BAD #but then you look at like???? aslan from chronicle of narnia????? which was made YEARS before the lion king #and he looked more realistic #and its disneys fault bc they WONT PAY PEOPLE

[colleendoran]

How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

#snow glass apples #chivalry #neil gaiman #drawing

[atlasnessie]

or — loving beastzai

cw: mild mentions of blood

the text you’ve gotten from chuuya wasn’t anything new. dazai had come back to the port mafia headquarters late, far past midnight, soaked with blood that was both his and not. the executive urges you to come and take care of him.

the walk inside the building didn’t concern you. people took a step out of your way as you went up the elevator and into the office of your lover, the doors swinging open with a swift tug by a few guards you were posted by the room. there, dazai stood in the middle of the room gazing out one of the large windows and into the streets and port of yokohama, clothing stained with scarlet red, his bandages discolored with an unrecognizable shade you swore you’ve never seen on bandages and gauze.

the doors close behind you as you stand silently, your nightwear making you feel slightly out of place of osamus rather professional attire. without turning to face you, dazai cracks his dry lips open, words barely a whisper.

“you should be at home.”

you can’t respond, unable to find the words that you should say. instead, as if it was a routine set by destiny and fate, you walk past dazai with the soft shuffle of your shoes on the red carpet and go behind dazai’s desk and open a large closet, crouching down to find a first aid kit that you had placed for occasions such as this. you stand up with the kit in your arms, then look towards your lover, who’s eye is locked with yours. your soft, tired eyes tell him to take a seat, words without the struggle of saying them.

dazai walks slowly to the desk, sitting on his seat with his back straight. you place the kit down on the large dark wooden table and slowly peel off his coat with your sleeves rolled up. crimson stains your hands slightly as you do so, dropping the coat on the ground and opening the kit with a hand. you pull out a small towel, wiping any blood that was yet to be dried and crusted on the exposed parts of his back, shoulders, and neck. you stop and look at osamu with a gentle look, tugging on the bandages on his neck gently.

“can i ..?”

“you know you can. don’t need’ta ask.”

“just making sure.”

with soft, feathery hands, you peel off the bandages off his neck, the blood making the fabrics heavier than usual. as dazai’s neck and body unravels, you pick the towel up again, wiping the sweaty blood off.

“youre gonna need to take a shower when we get home. not everything is coming off …” osamu hums in response, his breathing shallow and simple.

home. he hasn’t been home in a while. most of his nights resided in the grim darkness of the port mafia. he hadn’t been home to you and your embrace in a few week, his arms had nearly forgotten your touch, warm and gentle, like another to their newborn child.

dazai lifts a hand up to his bandages eye and tugs on it, unraveling it and allowing it to fall on his lap. shifting your eyes, you peak to see both of his eyes. dark and void-like. you couldn’t read them as well as he read your own.

“we don’t have to talk about it. i know you’re trying to think of an excuse, osamu.”

he whispers a sorry.

after a few more minutes of wiping off any blood you could, you place the towel down and sigh. your hands smell metallic and osamu reeks of death. silently, you start to clean up, separating unused things back into the medical kit and blood soaked towels and bandage rolls out of the way.

“you should be at home,” osamu starts again. “you hate the port mafia headquarters. you hate the violence here.” his head shifts to you, lifeless eyes staring into yours.

“so why are you here ?”

“because,” you said with a matter of fact tone. closing the kit, you place it back into the closet and close the doors to it. “i love you.”

“don’t do any of this out of love.” with the shift of the chair, dazai is now face to face with you. a cold, shaky hand reaches out for your warm cheeks.

“i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable with all this, love.”

his voice is soft and mellow, different from how he usually speaks to you. you can’t help but shake your head, a slight smile on your lips.

“i’m okay as long as you’re okay.”

the room goes silent once again. dazai can’t bring himself to respond back, a foreign tug of guilt twirling with his heart. your hands are stained with red, dazai can see. there are dark shades of crimson under your nails and slightly staining your nightwear. he feels terrible. he can’t help it. and yet …

to see a soft smile on your face as you clean him up, the blood soaked coat staining the red carpet below him, he can’t help it but feel as if you being in this world, with him as you are in the other, is fate. destiny itself.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #beast dazai #beast dazai x reader #atlas writes !

[setsugekka]

❥business attire (m)

↳ You have no qualms with doing what it takes to get ahead professionally: a white lie here, a bit of cheating there—sleeping with your boss? Simple.

Until a business trip with a rival colleague puts quite a wrench into all of that.

bang chan x fem!reader — colleagues/rivals to lovers, romcom, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [12k wc] cws: alcohol drinking, themes of sexism in the work place!!, penetrative sex, body cum shot, oral sex (m+f), dirty talking (very mild condescension/humiliation), teasing, chan has a big dick of course because i wrote this.

Everything has led up to this moment.

Years of studying, internships, exams; grueling schedules and lost hours of sleep, not even accounting for the people stepped over and lost along the way. You had made the decision long ago that you were willing to do whatever it would take to make it to the top, to achieve the kind of success that you knew was waiting for you somewhere out and into the future.

You're no stranger to the CEO's office, all shining and glittering gold with accents and glossed, white marble, though you do have to admit, you're not used to being here with a third, as far as company is concerned.

No, typically you find yourself here in the later hours of the evening, partaking in a particular set of extra curricular activities that you know will bargain your way up the professional ladder. Ethical? Questionable. Do you care? Not even a little bit.

Granted, you can't imagine the other guy—Chris—to feel similarly about your leg-up on him, as it were.

Your colleague in question stands beside you with hands behind his back like he's a child waiting to hear his grades called out by the teacher. It's a little charming, you've got to admit, though nothing if not sad given the fact that he's awaiting something that was never really going to be offered to him to begin with.

And you don't know anything about this guy because you don't tend to bother learning much of anything about the people surrounding you in your workplace, outside of the smallest inkling of weaknesses that can be used to your advantage. Susan in accounting, for example, one to have something of an issue with getting to work on time in the mornings; no problem, the time clocks can be easily forged to make up for the discrepancy.

Except, of course, for the fact that it's against company policy to do so, and an offense that can find one terminated in an instant—it certainly was a shame the evening that the CEO had come to find out about that, after a bottle of wine and a particularly enthusiastic blowjob from you.

But Chris keeps to himself, and if not for this meeting here, you'd not even know his name. He works on business contact profiles not unlike yourself, which makes him someone that sits directly in your crosshair. You glance over his features for a brief second—his high nose bridge and his full lips, and acknowledge that he's sort of handsome for someone that you have to destroy the will of today. Well, it's not you destroying it, though you've more than put in the work to ensure it to happen.

The CEO of the company brings his attention up from the paper work laid out in front of him and finally grants it to the both of you. Your eyes meet with his in an instant and you try to bite back the knowing grin of victory that threatens to pull at the corners of your lips. Be mature about this, you think to yourself. Humility not a strong suit of yours, sure, but no need to rub it all into the wound.

"There's a massive account that needs an exquisite set of eyes and ears on it this coming weekend, this kind of business trip is the type that makes or breaks a company, a supervisor of the company." The man pauses, eyes falling back down to the papers as he shuffles them about lightly across the desk. "So, you understand that the utmost sensitivity and attention to detail is necessary when deciding who it is to send out on these sorts of things, but in the event of a net gain, then it's easy to understand that the trickle down effect is one that can be felt by everyone involved."

You smile, this time unable to hold it back.

He continues. "The success of this means the immediate success of the supervisor involved."

Then, he looks up to the both of you.

"Which is why I have decided to send the both of you out, and based on the return, I will make a decision in relation to who will be the benefactor."

Your eyes widen, smile falling, and in the moment you find yourself incapable of holding your feelings of unjust back.

"What? What do you mean you're sending both of us? What benefit could me or the company see in having this guy tag along?"

"Hey?" Chris cuts in, a little wounded. You ignore him for the most part.

"Chris does good work, has proven himself on numerous occasions. I think the two of you will work just fine together, and if that's not the case, then consider it a friendly workplace competition to get the fires really burning for results."

Jaw clenched and teeth gritted tightly, you take a step towards the man happily seated in his position of taking, and dare to point a finger out towards him.

"I've earned this."

But to that, a knowing, shit-eating grin pulls at a single corner of his mouth. An understanding of this, of the anger you're feeling and where it's coming from and how absolutely fruitless it will be.

"Have you?" he questions lightly, a disgusting chime in his tone that makes your stomach turn. His eyes drop back down to the desk, not bothering to even look at you for the following question. "And how is it that you've done that, exactly?"

Freezing in place, even just the question mortifies you. Chris' being there feels far too illuminating now in comparison to the emptiness that he carried before, and you know that this man knows that you are incapable of answering that as diligently as you may like to.

But still, the both of you know.

You close your eyes slowly, exhale steadily and try to center yourself into something more professional once more. "I've worked incredibly hard for this kind of opportunity, sir."

"And so has Chan! Sorry, I mean Chris. I'm afraid we spend so much time together leisurely that I often forget to address you properly in a professional setting nowadays!"

What's worse than the initial blow of this knowledge dawning upon you is the way that the man beside you laughs, like it's the funniest thing in the world that you're being made a fool of in front of these men. Granted, he doesn't know—does he know?—regardless, the humiliation toiling in your gut twists unrelentingly whether your colleague is privy or not.

You don't get a chance to respond before the man who has wronged you continues on with the thought, however.

"You are still getting the opportunity, it's just that you're sharing it with someone else. If your work continues to shine above and beyond your peers, then you have nothing to worry about, now do you?"

It takes everything you have inside of you not to snarl out a reply. "Yes, sir. I'll see to it getting done."

"Excellent news! You and Chan are set to leave tomorrow, a red-eye to Los Angeles for three days. I trust that the two of you can have it settled in that time?"

"Yes, sir," the both of you reply in unison, and even just that twists like a dagger in your back.

The airport terminal is busy, too much, for your liking.

There are perks to being in such places, though, and you choose to revel in those small things. No one is interested in you or what you're doing. No one around you cares about your immaculately pressed garment or the fact that your luggage is slightly scuffed. They pay you no mind as you look up from your phone and towards the screen sitting atop the gate entrance as you await your boarding signal.

"Hey."

You sigh aloud at the simple word, easily recognizing the voice that carries it through the crowds. Glancing to your other side, your colleague stands with phone and luggage in hand; a suit jacket just ill-fitting enough that it perturbs you that much more.

So, you don't reply. Chris sits next to you and settles his belongings in such a haphazard way that it grates on your nerves—much like everything that he seems to do, does—and you silently await for him to make his presence unknown to you for what you hope to be the rest of the near week that the two of you are forced to spend together.

Not so lucky, however.

"I think it's going to be good that we're working on this together," he says cheerfully. Annoyingly. "By the way, you can call me Chan. Chris is so formal and professional."

"Well, Chris, we are workplace colleagues, so it only makes sense that we remain professional," you respond.

He leans in towards you, "Our work place isn't that professional, I'm sure you've noticed."

You don't like the sound of that, though it could very well be more of your hurt feelings and humiliation taking the driver's seat. Thus, you temper the anger that threatens to burst out at what you think could be certain implications and simply meet his eyes with a glare.

"So I have."

Chris, Chan, whatever—leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest before continuing on with the thought that you don't care to hear more of but know you're going to be prisoned with, regardless.

"I think we can learn a lot from one another during this."

"And what is it that I can learn from you that I've not yet gathered from years of study, internships, and work in the field? Do you think it's an accident that I've landed myself so far up the corporate ladder?"

His head cocks to the side, and for a moment, you think it to be daringly condescending.

"No, but it's no accident that I've landed myself here, either."

You roll your eyes and focus down on the phone in hand.

"The truth of the matter is that in a lot of cases, the best way to get ahead is to take everyone else down around you," he carries on, voice dropping down to something more akin to a whisper. "Playing nice only gets you so far."

The snort of a laugh that escapes you is so quick you don't have a chance in fighting it back.

"If you think you're going to be conniving enough to wrestle this out of my hands, then I'm afraid you've been paired up against the wrong adversary," you reply. "Better, stronger, smarter men than you have tried, and failed."

Chan's eyebrows perk at that, like he's amused by the comeback. There's a part of you that appreciates the fact that he doesn't immediately wither in the shadow of your toughness, though you're far from desiring a fight for this trip as it carries on, either. Withering, in some cases, might be best.

"You don't know anything about me, yet you're so willing to assume I'm unworthy of the challenge of taking you on. Unfortunately for you, I love a good, friendly competition."

To that, you huff out yet another mildly amused laugh.

"It will be anything but friendly."

The flight to Los Angeles gives you plenty of time to conjure up a game plan, not that you think you're going to need anything all that involved to conquer your adversary.

Chan enjoys the in-flight entertainment alongside of you as you do—laughs along to the film that he's watching and orders himself a drink to truly settle in. You do neither. Instead, you crack open your laptop and mull over the numerous documents and spreadsheets of information that you'll want to know like the back of your hand by the time that you land.

As well as how best to handle him.

Thankfully, your colleague seems whimsically dim despite your earlier conversation in the airport. He talks a big game as far as a competition and winning is to be concerned, but you rack your brain trying to recall a time in which his name has ever come up at work previously; no accolades, no parties thrown, no cheers for a job well done. In fact, the majority of those moments have been granted to you, and incredibly hard-earned, at that.

But, you have to give it to him: he doesn't appear frightened by you. Chalk that up to naivete, sexism, or stupidity—you couldn't care less which pin it is that he lands on, because either way, the outcome will be the same.

So sure of himself, and yet nothing to show for it besides a bizarrely personal relationship with the CEO. Well, you have that, too.

With the way that things have played out, you want to call things off, however. This man back at the office has humiliated you and taken from you but not held up his end of the bargain. Is it worth it to continue carrying on? Will it harm your career if you don't? Probably best to maintain the status quo as far as sexual endeavors go. Besides, the sex isn't half bad, either.

When you and Chan land in Los Angeles it's far too early for your liking and with how little sleep you are now on, but the thrum of the bustling, awaiting city excites you. This opportunity is going to be everything—is going to grant you everything—and in all likelihood, you wouldn't be able to sleep if you were to try.

Chan attempts to take your bags from you once you're both walking the busy halls of LAX and you fight him off with every try. He smiles and laughs and rolls his eyes at your unwillingness to cooperate, but this is no comical matter to you. Little does he know how close to danger he sits at every passing moment.

One taxi down and making your way to the hotel, Chan rushes his way out of the car and around to the back so that you have no hope in fighting him this time. He is so insufferable, you think to yourself, though you can't deny yourself the joy of having him hauling your luggage about. Good, perhaps you will be useful to me, after all. 

The hotel is a lavish one; all white marble, silver accenting and lush green foliage at every turn. You're thankful for that much, because in so many ways there is nowhere else that you wish to be less than here.

You spot a bar down the corridor just a bit and make a mental note of it, as you may be spending ample time there when not constructing the professional downfall of your idiot colleague. In that moment, Chan forces himself into your line of vision with a wide grin and nods his head over towards the elevator.

"Floor seven," he says, handing you one of the room keys.

You look at it, sitting thoughtfully placed inside of its red paper envelope with a number written on in gold ink. Then, you glance at his, still remaining in his hand.

The same number.

"We don't have separate rooms?" you question, though you're capable enough to already know the answer to such an asinine question. Thus, you move onto the next most obvious one. "Why don't we have separate rooms?"

"There's two beds, it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," you all but shout, forcing the tail end of your anger back as to maintain a semblance of professionality. "We need to go back down and get this sorted out. I'll handle it."

Chan laughs under his breath, watching the number on the LED change as the elevator rises.

"You won't be sorting anything out. There's about five major conferences in the area this weekend and this place is heavily booked, as is everywhere else decent in the region. You're just going to have to put your big girl pants on and deal with it."

You don't know Los Angeles well enough to hide a body. Unfortunate.

Though your fingers tingle and your head throbs, you don't bother fighting the fact any further. You are a logical woman, and you're perfectly capable of understanding the concept of there being no further vacancy in a hotel. Thus, you sigh, clench your jaw, and drop it altogether.

When the elevator stops with a ding, you couldn't feel more relieved. You rush out from between the metal doors so quickly that you nearly shoulder it as it continues its momentum. Down the hall and pausing in front of your shared, temporary residence, you press the key to the reader and push inside without even so much as a thought about where Chan is or how he is fairing with the baggage load that he has taken upon himself to deal with.

The door nearly shuts him out, a leg craned in through the crack as he fights it without a word to you for help.

It is spacious. Bright and clean and smells of new linens like no one prior to the two of you has ever actually stayed in here before. The bathroom is large and pristine in the way that it glitters. A wide enough working space with two chairs and not nearly enough coffee offered straight away—though that's a simple enough fix as far as you are concerned.

"Pretty nice!"

Ah. You had nearly forgotten about him, but Chan always has a way of making his presence known. He hands you your bag and you pull it over towards the side of the bed that faces the large window, blinds drawn. Reaching towards them, Chan offers up his expertise once again.

"They said there's a balcony."

"Surely I could have gathered as much for myself."

He rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of his bed, intent on unpacking. You continue on towards the balcony, pulling the fabric away and gazing out through the massive, glass panes. 

It's Los Angeles. Not a whole lot to offer as far as views go in the major city areas, but suppose it will have to do.

"We should get dinner tonight. Look over our plan of action for the next couple of days with these clients and get to know one another a little bit better." Chan isn't looking at you while he says it, but you can hear the hopefulness in the sound of his voice without necessarily seeing it on his face. "Besides, it's on company dime, might as well go all-out!"

While the idea of spending somewhat intimate, one-on-one time with this man is not something that excites you, suppose what does excite you is the possibility of putting your devilish little plan of hostile take-over into action. Unfortunately, what this also means for your future, is something that will be much, much more difficult than simply defeating him.

Being nice.

"Yeah, that sounds good, actually." You hope the sudden change in your demeanor doesn't raise any red flags in his mind, but you don't think him to be smart enough to consider the fact. "There was a nice looking place downstairs in the lobby, maybe we should go there."

"Perfect!"

He's so happy that it almost makes you feel guilty about the whole thing.

Chan continues on. "It's early and I've got a few things I want to get ahead on. I'll get out of here so that you can sleep, just in case that's what you'd like to do, but feel free to send me a message if you need me for anything. I'll just be downstairs."

He's so kind. How unfortunate.

"I will, thank you."

Chan grabs his work bag and scurries out of the shared room. How disastrous this whole thing is for him, a monumental case of wrong place, wrong time. 

Dinner is good, but your trickery is far more delicious.

There's a stack of envelopes with paperwork inside of them sitting on the edge of the relatively small table, barely enough room for it now that entrees and glasses of wine have been poured, but now that the business portion of the evening has come to a close, the two of you are able to enjoy the perks that going on these sorts of trips often has to offer.

Chan sits ahead of you with a glass full of white wine and a nicer tie than the one he arrived with. He looks handsome–that, you can't deny—though it's something that will have to sit ignored in the back of your mind with far more important matters to consider. 

"Are you seeing anyone?"

You're lost in your thoughts when he asks the question suddenly, and it jars you back into the present moment with what you imagine to be an incredibly evident startle.

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," you reply quickly, but on second thought, you remember that your plan is to reel him in. Thus, you amend the response. "No, I'm not. I'm much too wrapped up with my career for that."

Chan pouts, like he's sad about it for you. "Still, it gets lonely, yeah?"

He looks and sounds sincere in a way that you're not expecting, and suppose a little honesty won't completely hinder your end goal.

"It does, sometimes, but that's what I've chosen. Once I'm comfortable with where I am professionally, then I'll carve out time for dating." You look up at him, pointing your fork straight at him, "this isn't some thinly veiled commentary about how I'm getting too old to find someone, is it?"

And though you're somewhat joking in saying it, horror strikes through each and every one of Chan's facial features upon hearing the words.

"What? Oh, no! God, no! I was just thinking that working long hours like we do can be isolating, so it might be nice to have someone to go home to at the end of it all, you know?"

You do know.

"It's not that I don't get out and meet people, do things," you say, taking a sip from your glass to wash away the humiliation of honesty that lingers in your throat. "They're just not…long term acquaintances, if you will."

Chan grins knowingly, and you don't particularly like that look on him. As if you've not been the one giving up the information freely to get him to this point.

"Ah, I see," he says in an exhale and an accompanying nod, "just enough to keep the bed warm next to you sometimes, huh? I'm no stranger to that arrangement, myself."

This is far more information than you find you ever need to know about any of your colleagues, though the same could be said about anything at all regarding their personal lives. Spouses, kids, pets, what kind of car they drive; it's all more information than you care to know about any of them, though you can't help but feel the sizzle of intrigue inside of your chest at his willingness to offer up such particularly intimate knowledge in regards to his late night activities.

Perhaps playing with this guy will be more fun than originally considered.

And thus, you take something of a gamble in relation.

"To be honest with you, I've been seeing someone casually for a while, though I'm not sure if that arrangement is working out for me any longer."

Both of you take another sip from your glasses, but Chan's gaze lingers on you for an especially lengthy amount of time. He sets his glass down calmly on the table, sighs aloud, and then settles himself casually against the back of the chair.

"I know you've been sleeping with the CEO."

You are thankful to no longer be in the middle of your drink, because you'd certainly be choking on the swallow right about now.

There's an attempt to maintain your composure—something that you're quite adept at—though in situations like this you have far less experience in doing so. You're not quite sure whether or not the shock is obvious across your face, but it certainly feels like it is.

No point in lying, the both of you are already here, after all.

"Is that so." Not a question, a statement.

Chan shrugs, all nonchalant in a way that you don't really appreciate, either.

"Yeah, he let it slip one of the nights we were out late playing darts with the guys from the office. Sounded a bit like he was boasting, like I was supposed to be impressed with him for it, or something."

"I take it you're not the only one who knows then?"

"Nah, I don't think he told everyone. It was a moment where we were alone, I don't really know why he told me. I was just like, that's great, man, and then we started talking about the game."

Slumping into your chair, it's the first time you've felt well and truly defeated, and especially when it comes to any and all matters such as these. While you're not ashamed of the lengths gone through in order to attain what it is that you intend to attain, it is far from ideal for the entire office to be aware of it.

"Amazing, you didn't even have to sleep with him to get put on this assignment," you sigh, arms crossing over your chest. "Suppose I look foolish now."

"I don't really care about that, about you doing whatever you think you need to do to get ahead in life. If you want to sleep with our boss to do that then that's your prerogative," Chan says, tone simplistic and plain. "Where I do care is that you seem to be under the impression that you're the only person in the office who is worthy of anything, and that no one else is working hard in order to achieve anything. I am, we are, just most of us aren't going to the same lengths that you are."

A beat of silence passes between you, and in perfect timing, the waiter comes with the check and disappears just as swiftly. Once he disappears from the table side, Chan leans forward, dropping his volume even more in a way that expresses so wholly that the next words spoken are truly only meant for you.

"I've seen your work, I know you have what it takes to be a top executive in this company, and that's without all of the extra shit like fucking some rich scumbag who's just going to turn around and throw the fact back in your face." He leans back again, signs the receipt, and then begins reaching for the stack of papers. "But you're not the only one who works hard and puts in crazy hours to earn a place here. Let's work this case like the team we're meant to be, get it done like I know that we can, and shove it in that asshole's face once we get back."

It's a plan that seems so pleasant on the surface: working together with a colleague who you now have nothing to hide from, who knows all of your dirty little professional secrets and still appears to respect you in spite of it. 

You watch Chan pack all of the belongings into a briefcase and can't help but wonder, why don't you care? Why would someone in direct competition with you not seem to be bothered by the fact that you're extending yourself well beyond a professional setting in order to no longer have to compete with him on equal footing?

Rather, you can't help but feel as though the tone of the conversation has taken a turn, almost as though Chan respects you and your work ethic more after the discussion of it all. With everything laid out onto the table, this man knows and understands you in a way that no one else really does, and beyond all of it—he still sees you. He sees how important all of this is, how you're capable of doing just about anything to achieve your purpose no matter how looked down upon it often is, and no matter how humiliating it has thus turned out to be.

Chan just sees you.

"We have an early morning tomorrow, I know these guys are going to want us there at least twenty minutes before the time, so we should plan to have our coffee and look over the documents well before we're meant to arrive."

You glance up at him as he stands, baggage in hand and a smile that says all of the very same things you've just come to realize about him. It's back to normal, like nothing has happened, no conversation about any ethically questionable goings on has even taken place.

Back to regularly scheduled programming.

And you kind of like that.

Twenty minutes early becomes thirty minutes, due to your insistence. With a coffee in hand and perfectly manicured nails, you step out from one of the back doors of the taxi and leave the dealing with briefcases and paperwork to the guy who insists on going above and beyond to make himself useful to you. Good.

It's an early morning, but you find some comfort in that. Los Angeles never really turns off, but at least for now the sidewalks and streets are just a bit quieter than they will be at any other hour of the day. The weather is beautiful—perfectly breezy in just the right amount, with the sun coyly peeking through the clouds edges up above—and you can't help but think to yourself, no way that this day could possibly go wrong for me.

The office building that the two of you stand in front of is nothing special, as far as appearances go. Most in the surrounding area look much the same; worn down from the elements and barely seeing any architectural upkeep, but the spinning, glass front doors standing just a few paces ahead tell a different story of the interior. In ways, it brings a sort of feeling of the illuminated beauty of your professional future, standing between you, and there.

You're in your best set of dress. Black and white with a long skirt fitted just right. Chan is much of the same beside you in his immaculately tailored jacket, accentuating the wide slope of his shoulders and sleeves cutting off perfectly at his wrists.

He turns to look at you, and then smiles with a cute cock of his head.

"Ready to smash it?"

And not that you needed the added boost, but hearing the words vocalized from him adds just that much more fuel to your fire.

You nod. "Absolutely."

Hands are shaken and pleasantries exchanged once you and Chan are invited upstairs and into a large, white conference room that feels far too sterline and uninhabited for your liking. The place feels open, yet uninviting in a way that grates on your nerves and incites the kind of anxiety that you've not felt in these situations for many, many years.

One positive, is that the three men that you're meant to be working with today seem relatively uninterested in you, particularly. From one head of the table, you set your coffee down and begin unpacking a briefcase full of paperwork, envelopes, and a laptop crammed full of numbers and offerings and statistics meant to make this a home run. You know that it will be, you believe wholly that it will, but as you glance up and across what feels to be an impossibly long table towards the grouping of men chuckling and laughing amongst themselves, you can't help but feel something else that you've not felt in such a long time.

The all-encompassing suffocation of male cliquiness. 

The Boys Club. They exist in so many spaces, and far from unheard of in your particular line of work. You watch on—particularly at Chan—as he smiles and laughs along with men that take absolutely no interest in you, your work, or what you bring to the table. They all playfully slap each other's arms and nod along to their stupid jokes like they've been best friends since the playground, and you are left out of it entirely.

Once you're settled, you stare at them and their childishness for what feels like an eternity, until finally you decide upon being the bad guy and taking matters into your own hands.

You clear your throat, "mind if we get started?"

The laughter stops dead in its tracks, all joy seemingly sucked out of the room at a lightning quick pace, and the men slowly turn to grant you their obvious looks of abject disapproval.

Though, you can't help but wonder which part they are disapproving of, exactly; be it the fact that it is time to begin the meeting, or the fact that a woman has the audacity to tell them as much.

Still, they follow suit without a disgruntled word. Chan makes his way around the table to meet you where you stand, but as the two of you meet eyes, he nods at you. The quiet insistence for you to take the lead. Not that you had any plans otherwise.

So, you do. With the laptop hooked up and the projection upon the wall, you begin going over statistics for the men to look over, take in, eventually discuss amongst themselves. It's easy work for you, knowing all of this information and all of the inner workings of your profession like the back of your hand.

One man raises a hand slightly into the air, a pen perched between his fingers as he nods towards the projector.

"What was the annual turnover for 2019 and how did that impact the immediate years going forward?"

He is looking at Chan when he asks the question, though your colleague has not said a word the entire time. You want to be better than the urge to present yourself in a way unbecoming of women in your position, because you know that anything you do can be interpreted as such, but the anger and desire for hostility gets the better of you when you reply back to him.

"2.3%, and the impact was minimal, easily dealt with internally with very little felt as a result of it throughout other sectors of the company."

The man asking raises his eyebrows, as if surprised by the fact that you have spoken. You've swallowed down your pride that would come out as far more aggressive than simply answering the question, so if he has an issue with you doing so now, you know precisely what to chalk it up as.

He turns to look at his colleagues first, then his attention falls back to you with a foul curl to the corner of his lips.

"I asked him," he says, pointing his pen at Chan. "Not you."

To this, Chan reels physically. You're not looking at him, not paying him any mind in particular, but you can see as much out of the corner of your eye from where he stands beside you. Now, your eyebrows perk up at the insidiousness of what's so outwardly and openly taking place here, but not so willing to take it on as a defeat just yet.

"With all due respect," you reply, calm and unshaken as you can be. Practiced, throughout the years. "I've been working at this company for six years, been through the lowest of the lows and had a personal hand in ensuring that it reached its highest of highs. While my colleague is knowledgeable and well-respected, this meeting is being led by me, so I would appreciate it if any questions be directed as such."

This feels good. Far from the first time you've had to stick up for yourself in such a way, you exhale the nerves through a semi-shaken breath and settle yourself where you stand. You're still not looking at him, but you do notice the fought back creeping of a smile across his lips.

The joys of victory end quickly, however.

Another man speaks up, this one seated across the way from the first indignant fellow.

"With all due respect," he begins, mocking you. "I believe I speak for all of the men in the room when I say that the only questions we're particularly interested in asking you relate to the snugness of your skirt around your hips and ass, and if there are ever questions relating back to the professional aspect of this engagement, we will be addressing your colleague."

The mixture of emotions that course through you is electric, impossible to parse through and pick just one out to focus on. Anxiety, anger, humiliation, regret, terror, sadness; they all rage through your nerves. Your skin feels hot, a sort of dizziness coming in on you quickly that you don't appreciate, because now is not the time to be experiencing weakness. Your lips part to speak, still unsure of what to even say. Flabbergasted, you attempt to find the words—some words—to fire back at these horrible men, but your mind feels simultaneously full and empty. How can that be. 

A woman who prides herself on being the best and brightest in the room, dwindled down to nothing at the hands of useless, pathetic men who bring nothing to the table besides those already aforementioned.

"Alright, let's not get out of hand," Chan says, cutting in through the awkward silence. This appears to appease the men, which you dislike even more though you understand his reasoning for doing it. "My colleague is very well-respected in her profession and incredibly knowledgeable. Perhaps it would be best if we make quick work of wrapping this up and heading off on our separate ways."

For the rest of the meeting, Chan takes the lead. The men down the way open up splendidly, laugh and have a wonderful time with another man in charge, saying all of the same things you had said, reading off of all of the sheets of information that you compiled, that you slaved away at for weeks, for months at a time. Countless late nights with nothing more than the television for company in the background and a frozen pizza in the oven in order to make sure that you will never, ever be the recipient of the kinds of unreasonable lashings that you have taken on today.

All for nothing.

You don't dare speak another word, and sit in the shadow cast by your colleague. When the meeting concludes, the business men are happy; smiling and laughing along with any and everything Chan says. They love him. They love him not because he is knowledgeable, or good at his job in a way that is particularly extraordinary, but simply because he is not a woman. Simply because he is not you.

This sort of dichotomy has always existed, and in every facet of life, too. When buried into your work and the insular walls of your typical professional environment, suppose that it's easy to forget what it's like out here, in the real world. Where men do not respect you whether you're better than them or not, all in all, the result is the same, anyway.

Suppose the CEO has prepared you for this moment, a smaller humiliation only to set you up for one much larger and harder to swallow down the pain of.

Chan handles these men—the situation as a whole—as well as he can, you suppose. There is a kind of pain that settles in your chest at his unwillingness to turn it into a fight, though logically, you understand how pointless this might be for everyone involved. How short-lived the joy of bombing this meeting might be, only so that the suffering of your ego-death be even shorter-lived.

Just get in, and then get out, as relatively unscathed as you can manage. Chan has picked up the pieces left scattered around to the best of his ability and really, with flying colors. 

It does not change, however, the deeply nestled pain of being on the receiving end of such corrupt wrongdoings.

The taxi ride back to the hotel is silent, and you're thankful for the fact that Chan does not make so much as an attempt to say a word.

On the small table just beside you, there sits a tall, green bottle of wine with no glass to accompany it. You've decided against it, and that drinking straight from the source will suit you just fine as a consolation prize on the balcony tonight.

One of the charms of Los Angeles, you find, is the weather in the evenings. A cool breeze that gently carries over your features and through your hair as you stand against the railing and gaze out at the still-busy streets down below. There's a part of you that wishes to have the will to go out and enjoy the city on the last night here, and with your work responsibilities settled, but the mood of previous encounters still sits heavy on your chest, dampening any hope of enjoying yourself before your flight tomorrow morning.

Though many, long hours have passed since the morning, conversation between you and Chan have been few and far between. You understand it well enough as him, knowing the time and place to engage with a person after being so horrifically wronged, so when the glass door slowly slides open and he brings himself outside to join you, your heavy heart welcomes the intrusion, rather than resents it.

"Hey," he says, barely above a whisper. "Mind if I come out?"

Your smile is thin and straight, hardly able to be called such. "Sure, take a seat."

There's only one wobbly  wooden chair next to the table. A ridiculous design from all angles of consideration, but Chan doesn't bother arguing with you and slowly slinks himself down into what it has to offer him.

His hair is damp and freshly toweled off after a shower—loose curls sticking up every which way as if looking for a means to escape from his head. You smile at the sight, appreciate how approachable and kind he appears when he isn't done up in a professional setting like you're used to seeing. There's a realization that has dawned on you at some point during the day, though you have difficulty in pinpointing the precise time, where you come to accept your softening heart towards your colleague. 

Perhaps on account of your forced togetherness, perhaps aided by his willingness to diffuse a situation in what might have been the best way that he knew how in the moment. No, he didn't enact violence upon those men in that office space, and yes, it would have been nice to see, but solve something, it wouldn't have, and suppose all you had really hoped to do was escape further escalation as quietly as the situation would allow for, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier." Chan is the first to speak up since seated, the first to bring up the whole thing since its having taken place. "It's so fucked. Simple, pathetic men with a chip on their shoulder who can't handle acknowledging that a woman is capable of doing their job, and more."

"Yeah," you sigh, turning towards him in an effort to grab the wine bottle once more. "Guess it's not anything I'm not used to, though it's been a long time since it's so blatantly been shoved in front of my face."

You take a large sip, and then laugh to yourself before continuing on with a similar thought.

"Actually, I guess that's not true, considering our boss pretty much did the same thing right before sending us out on this mission."

Turned to face him now, you watch Chan's features scrunch like he's fighting back the urge to speak his mind plainly, though evidently, it is a fight meant to be lost.

"Look, it's really none of my business what you do," he says, a seemingly rattled hand rushing to run fingers through his hair, "but do you really think it serves you to keep seeing that guy? God, he's such a fucking asshole, airing out your personal business to other colleagues and then waving it around in the office right before sending us on this trip—I wouldn't be surprised if those guys were friends of his, too. Birds of a feather, and all that, you know?"

Another sip, though now you're looking down at Chan with a kind of surprised gratitude. 

"No, I don't think it does, though it'll be mighty interesting finding out how navigating those professional waters will work out for me. Suppose that's the position I've put myself in, though."

It's then that Chan stands, all white bathrobe and silly hair that warms your heart as he closes much of the small amount of distance that previously would sit before the two of you. With this new, closer proximity, it's easier to take in the charming slope of his nose and the plump, pretty fullness of his lips.

"The only people in this equation who are wrong for what they've done is him, and those pieces of shit from this morning." He pauses—the both of you do—and for a moment you think each of your breaths to be held in suspension as to what it is that's going to happen next. Chan's eyes remain fixed on yours for so long, and as you feel your temperature rise across your skin and the beat of your heart pick up in some unfamiliar sort of anticipation, you're able to see his gaze flicker down to your lips for just a second before once again settling on maintaining eye contact. "Yeah, you've been kind of an asshole to me, to other people in the office, but that doesn't mean you're deserving of this. No woman is deserving of being subjected to this, regardless of who it is that you decide to sleep with, and for what reason."

If not for his soft demeanor standing right before you, you might believe him to be angry with how he sounds. He must be, though he carries himself well enough as to not let it come out in ugly and unpleasant ways; and as a result, the quick and hard beating of your heart within your chest only picks up that much more. Since when does this guy have such an absurd effect on you?

"I've seen the work you put in, so I'm in a pretty good position to make the call," Chan says, inching himself just ever so slightly closer to you. His voice drops lower now, and accompanying it, the less subtle eyeing of your mouth in relation to his. "You're better than this, you're better than probably all of these blokes here."

"Is that so?" you whisper in response, and though the sentiment is appreciated, you must acknowledge within yourself that the topic of conversation has fallen quite a bit to the wayside in favor of something far more intriguing, something far newer, and more enticing. 

"It is." He inches closer yet, only suspected millimeters of distance still held between your mouths. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, you know."

"Says the guy who used to hang out with our boss to get ahead."

Chan grins at your playful combativeness before replying, "Just doing what it takes, I'd have slept with him too if the opportunity were to arise."

Free hand coming up to feather over the softness of his robe, your palm smoothes across his chest and the definition that lies beneath before speaking.

"You know, I'm technically your superior, too."

"Oh?" he chimes, eyebrows perked. "Is that so?"

"Technically," you answer with a small shrug. "I've got you on length of employment, by a couple of years."

Caged in against the railing of the balcony, Chan's lips reside so close to your own that they nearly ghost over the flesh. He smells of mint and rosemary from having been freshly washed—all the more damning for you and your budding curiosity about him.

"Should I give up on trying to sleep with him, then?" Chan asks, a seductive playfulness laced throughout each and every word. "Move on to different, more promising prospects?"

"Only one way to find out."

When Chan finally closes the distance fully and kisses you, it's not as hard, not as rushed as you previously had anticipated it to be. The kiss is careful, a want that resides deeply nestled beneath it but far from the thing that grants unbridled haste and need. His lips are soft, the tug of his teeth at your bottom lip experimental as he tests the waters in regard to what he should or should not be doing, but it's a kind of trepidation that only has you eager for more from him. Your fingers grip tightly into the robe, a light pull in order to have his body more firmly and intentionally against your own, and it must be precisely the sort of green light he had been looking for, because the delicate slide of his tongue to find yours enters into the mix, and now you have no other choice but to accept that your original plan in hostile takeover has ultimately ended up in yet another failure.

Though this one is far more appreciated, and you've got to admit, you're happy to go home tomorrow with this sort of loss sitting on your scorecard.

The day of your return home is long and full of travel, though this does little to stave off all of the thoughts of what could, and might be.

Falling hard and fast has never been you. Through the years you've dedicated to your professional development, you've met people, shared bed and intimacies with people that never were to develop beyond the simple gratification that the two of you granted each other in those moments. You try to think back to the last time you really wanted someone; not physically, not sexually, but as a larger and more intrinsic part of your life.

But you can't, not until now.

Chan offers you a ride back to your home from the airport once the both of you land. The taxi is long and expensive, and while money is of no consequence to you, there is a much firmer inkling within that wishes to have just a little bit more time together that isn't set between the walls of a stuffy office that you now have come to have great disdain for.

Driving on the highway, you roll your window down slightly and enjoy the breeze as it's offered to you. The horizon paints itself with colors of pink, purple, and orange as the sun begins to set; normally something of no interest to you, but now? Now, a newfound beauty in all of it.

You barely know Chan, but what you've learned in a short amount of time has you eager to find out more. You can't help but wonder if he feels the same.

"Hey, uh."

As if reading your mind, Chan pipes up from the driver's side, a nervousness in his voice that you aren't quite familiar with but has you eager to hear more.

"Look, no pressure, yeah? But…think you might be interested in coming back to mine and having a drink, or just to talk?"

Thank all of the powers that be, you think to yourself.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," you say, trying to temper your interest. "Let's do that."

Chan's place is nice. Comfortable, cared for, but cozy. 

As you step inside and remove your shoes, you look around to take in your surroundings. The furniture is nice, but not lavishly so. Pretty vases with flowers and hanging picture frames showing memories of friends and family adorning his walls that come off as inviting, and not showy. In juxtaposition, you find yourself thinking back to so many other places that you've visited in the past—homes that feel far less like them, and more like museums. Do not touch. The empty atmosphere of being unlived in.

A cork pops off from a bottle just a bit inside and around a corner, thus, you follow the invitation of it. Chan stands in his kitchen pouring two glasses of wine, and you take a seat at the small, glass, dining room table in wait.

"Workplace romances are forbidden, you know."

Well, that is certainly one way for you to broach the topic.

And while you've been mulling it over the whole day, you had decided upon this as the best route. It's simplistic enough to get the point across, but also light-hearted in a way that it doesn't need to be taken too seriously in consideration by Chan. The concept of an office romance being so broad that there is difficulty in necessarily pinpointing what does, or does not, fit within the definition.

But the two of you have kissed, and there is clearly some degree of interest. So, it applies well enough to be used as the shoe horn.

However, Chan only smiles as he finishes up the task of pouring the drinks. He glances up at you briefly, then carries on with what it is that he is doing before replying.

"Okay," he says. Not giving you much to work with until he comes around the table and sits beside you, wine glasses set onto the tabletop. "Then I'll quit."

"Wait, what?"

You don't expect this answer, and it certainly doesn't make any sense to you, either. Yes, things have been moving relatively quickly in your own mind, and as far as your own feelings are concerned, but has the same been true for him? To this degree, at that?

He shrugs. "I'll quit. It's not a big deal, I don't even like that place, and I sure as hell don't like our boss, so I'll just find another job if it means we can keep doing this comfortably."

Chan punctuates the thought with a sip of his drink, so nonchalant. Like the most absurd thing hasn't just come out of his mouth with incredible conviction.

"I…but…" you stutter out, trying to gather your thoughts. "You barely even know me, and if I'm being honest, it sounds a little crazy to be willing to give up such a huge position at a company just to date a colleague that wasn't even that nice to you only a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, I suppose when you put it like that, it does sound a little crazy." Chan takes another bored sip of wine. "I did tell you I'm a pretty good judge of character, though."

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and you take it as an opportunity to bring your own glass up and to your lips before speaking into the rim. "Going to give up your job so you can sleep with me."

"Well, not just sleep with you, though I guess that depends on how good it is."

You choke on the sip.

"I'm a big boy, I can make career decisions for myself, even if that decision is to effectively and temporarily blow mine up." Chan's hand finds your thigh beneath the table then, fingertips gently digging into the flesh of the inside. "The rest is up to you, though. We can call all of this off right here, right now, and go to work tomorrow like nothing ever happened."

With the back of your neck heating up and the light prickling of goosebumps across your skin, you set your glass down, inhale deeply, and then look Chan square in the eyes.

"Maybe it's about time you earn that next promotion."

"You know—"

Chan whispers the words out and against your lips, through fervent kisses so quick and needy that he's barely able to say anything, at all. Hands are busy at work to slip the both of you out of your business attire from the day; button down shirts, belts, slacks, and skirts strewn hastily about the hardwood flooring of his bedroom while stumbling desperately towards the bed.

"I never thought my next promotion would be getting myself fired."

"Life is just full of surprises," you say, pushing him to the edge of the bed and gently down on top of it. "Isn't it?"

He doesn't bother responding, however, instead fixated on the way you drop to your knees between his legs and lightly graze a palm over the tenting at the front of his undergarments.

Fingers hooking into the elastic sides, you drop them down his thighs, freeing what it is that you really wish to see of him. You wrap a hand around the thick base of his length, gently stroking him to a fullness that was already so close to being reached. Chan sighs into the touch first, then a light groan that catches in his throat at the feeling of your tongue traversing up the underside of him, only to curve around the tip and then sink down whole to take him in.

One hand comes up to find the back of your head, though there's no force behind the gesture as you work him with your mouth. The wide stretch is enough to already have you feeling the fatigue of such an offering, but the heavenly sound of Chan quickly unraveling beneath you is enough to have you ignoring the ache that comes along with the wonder of such a large cock.

"Fuck, you feel good," he exhales, hips ever so slightly canting up to meet your mouth as you take him deeper in.

You pull off slowly, looking up the length of his perfect, toned body to meet his heavily lidded eyes. Hand still stroking him as you do. "You know what feels better?"

"I can guess."

With that, Chan leans forward and grasps you by the wrist—pulls you up and onto the bed with the kind of strength you couldn't dare fight against if you wanted to. Swapping your positions, you find yourself splayed out against the mattress and with hands already busy prying your thighs apart to accommodate him before you're even able to gather your senses.

A lone finger slides up your wet crease, stilling at the most sensitive part of you. Your body jolts at the feeling, looking down as Chan grins only inches away from the place where you want him the most.

"Would you hold it against me if I told you I wanted to fuck you the moment we landed in LA?" he admits, and punctuates the thought with a languid stroke of his tongue following where his finger has just traveled. "Never would have said anything in a million years but—God, the way you look dressed for work like that? So professional and serious, couldn't stop thinking about what you'd sound like if I just—"

Chan pauses the thought, digs his tongue and the plush of his lips more firmly against your clit and gently offers the sensation of being filled by two fingers simultaneously. You can't help the whine that falls from your mouth, though you make a half-hearted attempt to catch it before it does. One hand of fingers curling into the bedding below, the other finding Chan's hair to wrap the curls up and between; he wastes no further time showing precisely the kind of want that he has quietly carried for you. Dizzying and electric beneath your skin, hips bucking up ever so slightly and without conscious thought to find more of him as he grants it to you.

"I was so mean to you, though," you manage to say through heavy breaths and moans, "would you hold it against me if I told you I considered fucking you to try to ruin you? Professionally, of course."

The sounds that this information musters up and out of Chan can only be described as the most animalistic, primal groan of hedonistic want that you've ever heard.

"Yeah? You're going to ruin me?" he replies, fingers still pressed inside of you and a thumb firmly sitting at your clit. "Might have to revisit who's going to be ruining who."

Disappearing off and to the side, Chan makes such quick work of dealing with the necessities that you almost don't even notice his having done so. He stands afterwards—all but hauls you further up the length of the bed to accommodate his being there as well, and then positions himself between your legs once more as he drags the thickness of his cock through the wetness that awaits him.

"Maybe I sort of like it when you're mean to me, ever consider that?" Chan asks, coy in tone. One hand gripping into the soft flesh of your thigh as to hold you open for him while the other sits firm at the base of his cock, blunt head only slightly pressing at your opening. "Maybe it was all just a plot by me to get you to talk to me like a piece of shit so that I could then, in turn, fuck you stupid like we both want."

And while you would love to fight the point, the steady drive of Chan's hips forward makes for that to be an impossibility. The stretch of him carving out space inside of you for his cock is dizzying, slow and careful as he does so. You whine and sigh out as he pulls your body onto him until he rests fully inside.

"You talk a big game," Chan says then, gently fucking into you as his hands slide down and settle around your hips for leverage. "But at least you can take a big dick too, can't you?"

It's so much happening all at once, your senses in overdrive at the way that he's speaking to you almost condescendingly, paired with how pulled apart from the seams your body feels in order to accommodate his thickness. Once settled into more of a steady, offering drive into you, the friction is mind-numbing—feeling so full that not one single nerve ending finding reprieve from the hug of your body around his cock.

You reach forward with one hand, grasping at a strong, tensed arm that shows beneath the flesh each and every muscle he has worked so hard for. Your nails dig in, and as a result, he fucks you harder, faster; hips snapping roughly against the undersides of your thighs.

"Fuck, Chan, don't—don't stop."

"Yeah? Like it that much, huh?" His grip on your hips gets harder, and the strength in his upper body now fully used to pull your body down and against his cock with every drive. "You're taking it so good, maybe one of these days we'll see how good your pretty body can take it when I fill you up with my cum, yeah?"

And you want to be better than this, stronger than this. Stronger than the way that the words go straight into your already pained and needing arousal—tightening around him, an orgasm now threatening on the horizon much faster than originally anticipated.

You gasp out his name, repeating expletives in droves like a hopeless chant that you have no control of as a knowing smirk paints across his lips and he continues on with the work he is putting into your body.

"Want that," he says, breath shaky. "Want me to come in you. Now who's the one of us earning something?"

Grip into his skin tightening just that much more, your back arches up and off of the bed; thighs shaking and muscles tightening as you grit your teeth through the way that your orgasm shakes you. Chan never stops, the glide of his cock so smooth and easy between your walls that even through the stiffness of your body as you come, the strength that he holds makes it easy to use your form to fuck himself with as he watches you release around him with enamored appreciation.

It doesn't take much more from him, and you feel the way he fucks into you becoming more erratic, more needy and without plan as he aims to find his release. Though you've just finished, and need and want for him still courses through your veins at a lightning quick pace, and thus, when you beg for him in a whine to come on your body, it's a kind of humiliation that you'll have to deal with only after the fact. 

But not now.

Chan groans, deep and nestled into his chest as he pulls himself from the warmth of you and pulls the condom off—you watch him stroke over his wet, thick cock by hand quickly—taking in the sight of how the definition of his abdomen and chest flex as he reaches closer and closer to his end.

"Anything for you," he says, though the words are barely audible and totally destroyed in the dryness of his throat. "Little cock-drunk, are you? Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want."

While his tone is just ever so slightly condescending, there's a sort of sexiness in the confidence of it that does, indeed, drive you even crazier with each and every utterance of it. Chan strokes himself to completion shortly after; free hand coming up to find your clit and carefully rubbing you along with him as he comes. The both of you moan in unison, watching the way his cum paints your chest and stomach in such a lewd fashion before the momentum naturally slows, as does his hand.

Chests heaving, Chan is the first to cough out a laugh in the aftermath of it all.

"Did I get carried away?"

"No," you say through a heavy, exhausted exhale. "No, not at all. Fuck."

"Good?"

You give him a tired look in response, not wanting to give him the pleasure of acknowledging it with words.

Chan appears to accept this with a smile, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own. It's not needy, not full of lust as before. Now, laced within it is something completely different, and not unlike the first time that the two of you shared a kiss together.

You opt out of spending the night together, on account of having work early in the morning and wanting to be proper fresh for the occasion. None of your belongings are here, none of your work clothes—only items hours traveled in and then lightly carrying the musk of two people far too hasty in going at one another. 

Still, you can't help but consider what the aftermath of this truly looks like for the both of you in the workplace. Of course, Chan admits a willingness in the moment to quit his job for the opportunity of the two of you exploring this—but how much truth could really be lying within those words? 

A man who barely knows you, who has no real reason to be willing to do such a thing for you. What makes you so special, anyway?

Suppose the next morning in the office will tell.

Stepping into the office, you aren't so sure what you expect to find, only that what you have found is most definitely not it.

People are running all about, through the corridors, in and out of cubicle spaces, phones ringing and ringing for what sounds like forever with the sound of shouting into receivers coming from every single direction.

You walk in further, down the hallway towards your own personal office—but just before you make it there, your boss cranes his head out from his own just a bit further down the way and shouts at you for the world to hear.

"You! Get in here, now! What have you done?"

Eyes wide and eyebrows pressed up towards the ceiling, you can't help but wonder to yourself; what have I done?

Once you make it inside, you don't even bother closing the door behind you. Privacy isn't needed now, in part because a new side of you has been unlocked since this trip—a part of you that doesn't care. A part of you that has long since resigned yourself to simply not giving a shit about any of this. Not like you used to, not in the same way that once allowed for it to take, and take, and take from you without ever truly giving back.

You're free now.

"Did you know that Chris quit?" the man shouts, hair tousled and random papers lying thoughtlessly around his desk. "What did you do on that trip? What did you do to him you little—you little…bitch."

These words, once upon a time that is not even all that long ago, might have hurt you in such an inexplicable way, but now, the concept of such a thing seems so unfathomable, so far away from you. The cutting edge of a knife meant to maim, only now it slides off of you effortlessly—this man can no longer hurt you, and soon, you have decided, he can no longer take from you, either.

"I didn't do anything to him, sir." You smile, accompanying the words. "Though I don't think the same can be said for me. I think he's done a lot to me in a very short time, and for that, I am incredibly thankful."

The man pauses, looks at you with an empty stare before his eyebrows firmly knit together in a grimace. He intends to speak, but you are no longer interested in hearing anything from him.

"I quit, too."

Turning back towards the door, you hear the man stumbling over his words in an attempt to get something of use out. For once, it would seem, he is left speechless. The ideal version of him, you can't help but think.

"You can pay out my severance as intended under typical circumstances, and if you don't, I'll send everything to HR and contact a lawyer to take you for everything that you're worth," you add in, glancing back over your shoulder. "And I will win."

"Oh, and thanks for fucking me over so exquisitely on this work trip, I actually think it worked out in everyone's best interest."

Halfway out of the door, you hum, then turn back towards him for the last time with a smug, gratified smirk.

"Well, except maybe for you."

Your hectic surroundings as you leave the office for the very last time feel like nothing but static noise. Inconsequential and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. You don't know what the future holds for you, or for Chan, or for whatever it is that the two of you might have budding and blossoming together. It sort of doesn't matter, which you find to be the beauty of a new beginning.

When the elevator sounds off upon reaching the bottom floor, the metal doors part, and standing in the marble lobby is a familiar face that you're certainly not expecting to see.

Chan stands there before you; all fitted jeans and comfortable black hoodie. A casual side of him that you've not seen before, but are so delighted to be able to that it ignites a fluttering in your chest that perhaps you've not felt since grade school.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

He tries to fight back the smile, but to no avail. "I knew you were going to quit, so I figured I'd be here to get you when you did."

"I didn't come here this morning with the intention of doing that."

"I'm sure you didn't." Chan swings the loop of his keys around on a finger nonchalantly. "But I still knew you would. Breakfast?"

Three days isn't long enough to say I love you, but there's a previously locked away, fairytale side of you that's certainly thinking it right about now.

"We're both unemployed, should we be going out and getting breakfast?"

Chan tsks at that, "we're top executives in our field, we'll both be head-hunted before we even start looking. Besides—"

Reaching down, Chan takes the hand not holding a briefcase into his own, pointedly fitting fingers in between your own and looking straight into your eyes.

"Can't a guy take his girlfriend out for a waffle?"

Yes, yes he most certainly can.

♡ hope you enjoyed.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagines #skz scenarios

[redwineandtarot]

your talents

hi! today's pac is all about your talents! as people we are so diverse so not all of your talents may be in this reading. however i hope this helps you discover yourself more! take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. i would love to hear your feedbacks <3

🥀paid readings🥀

Disclaimer: My readings do NOT replace any professional advice. Use your own judgment while making decisions. You have your own free will. Take everything I say light-heartedly. All of my readings are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

pick a pile

piles 1-2

3-4

i do not own these pictures

pile 1

You are great at giving people honest and genuine advice. You make people see parts of themselves that they may have not seen before, good or bad. 

You may be great with finances. Or have the potential to be, if you learned more about it. You could study finances or economics. Don't have to, but you may still learn a bit about this topic. I think this will benefit you. (I am not a financial advisor or professional, this is just what cards are telling me!)

Being some sort of a teacher/advisor may suit you well too. Economics professor just came through but you could also be a dance teacher, therapist etc. Just something where you help people broaden their visions. 

You are great with new beginnings. You know how to make something blossom. You are also great with endings.

What I am seeing is you can materialize any interest of yours. Like maybe you want to learn guitar or learn how to cook, you can become quite good at them(to be more specific anything you want). Also this applies to material gains. The world is your oyster, I heard your guides say. 

Some of you may be talented at fashion. Whether it is designing or just making great outfits in daily life. 

You are also great at thinking ahead and planning. 

You are probably at peace with your shadow self or you are on the way to be. 

You have an earthy vibe to you. Your self confidence and calmness makes you a great manifestor. You could also be great at meditation, yoga etc. Anything that makes you connect with the universe and yourself more. 

Messages from spirit:

You still have full autonomy regarding ‘it’. “Nothing is yet set in stone.” You have a lot of potential.

You may need to release something. What is it? Think about this if you don’t know. Because deep down you know it.

thank you for reading <3

pile 2

I see a strong emphasis on your beauty. You could be / have the potential to be a model. Regardless, you are attractive and you may use this to your advantage. I am not saying you inherently have bad intentions. You are just good at charming people and getting what you want. You also probably would do great at things that require you to be in the spotlight. 

You are great at saving money.

You are a great fighter and a diligent person. You are persistent with what you want. Even if the situation seems hopeless. You find a way to make it work. And this usually gets you where you want to be (or even better places) in life. 

You know how to balance things in life. It just comes naturally to you. You know sometimes life does not evolve the way we want. And you trust the universe even in these times. You know you can get your ideas to real life even in the darkest times. 

Your words are powerful. You could use words to manifest. You could also be a writer of some sort (book writer, lyrics writer etc.). 

You may be great with plants, flowers or you may be good at biology. 

The numbers 8 and 6 might be significant.

You are good at dealing with emotions. You are an emotionally intelligent person.

You have natural talents to share your wisdom and your talents. You could benefit from being some sort of a teacher or a performer. Someone people watch.

You have a great understanding of life. The occult and history might be suitable fields of search for you. (I’m especially getting Egyptian mythology.)    

Messages from spirit:

You might be holding onto something out of pride. For most of you this is something from the past that you cannot let go of. 

Look at your situation from a different perspective. People who you deem wrong may be right.

thank you for reading <3

pile 3

You have a natural ability to lead and gather people. Whether for a cause or a project. In your work field or in a hobby that you do, you may pave the way for some sort of thing. For example you may start a new way of doing things, or you may be the first to do something in your hometown etc. 

You may have a talent for singing and/or public speaking. This also ties in with leadership because a good leader should also be good at speaking. Even if you lead a small group of people, good communication is key in my opinion.

You are also good at ending conflicts and finding the middle ground. 

You are also great at comforting people. You can transmute people’s worries. And you are also a great friend. You friends value you a lot.

You can tackle a lot at once. For example you can do modeling, studying, working at a part-time job all at once. Or if it’s just one job you can do different elements of it. Like youtubers; they film, edit and advertise their videos on their own. As a continuation of this, I see that you are a multi-talented person. 

I see you handling fast-paced life well. And this is because after all this running around you know how to come back to yourself and sit still. Maybe you do yoga, meditation, or any type of mindful activity.

When you love something, you also have a GREAT passion for it. This makes you also stand out at what you love. You can do the hard work for what you want.

By harnessing all of these talents of yours, you can achieve great success (whatever success is to you).

You have great spiritual protection around you. From your guides.

Messages from spirit:

You may meet a soulmate(platonic or romantic) or a romantic partner of yours soon. Or you may enter a phase of your life in which you’ll meet your romantic soulmate. For most of you it's the latter. And for this, spirit wants you to hold on to your visions.

thank you for reading <3

pile 4

You have a youthful energy to you. You spread happiness to those around you. You give them energy. While you have youthful energy, I see you as a wise person. You have an immense intellect. You could have gone through some hardships but you got to the other side with great strength and important lessons. Despite this you protected your child-like spirit. Your inner-child feels safe and heard with you.

You have a great imagination. Your dream world is probably pretty big. I get neptune-ish vibes from you. I heard that you may be a poet, if not I suggest you give it a shot. If you do not like poems, you can do other things that get you to use your imagination and emotions. Because I see a great potential in you. 

Some of you may be life path 22 or 7. Even if not, your life path is important for you.

You probably have a close bond with spirit. You are a great manifester. Despite your lighthearted energy, I see that you may have an interest in the occult. 

You have a talent for dancing.

You could also do well in areas where you need to have a quick wit. I hear politics for some of you. The term “crazy like a fox” applies to you. 

Despite appearing playful, you are pretty grounded. Even some of you may not realize this. You just need to work on it a bit more maybe.

You are graceful in the things you do.

Messages from spirit:

The thing you are asking for is within your reach! However while working towards it, you need both spiritual and practical effort for it. (Spiritual effort may be visualizing it for 5 minutes every day, etc.)

thank you for reading <3

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #divination

[venus-haze]

You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.

Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.

When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.

You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.

To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.

Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.

“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”

“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”

You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.

“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”

“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”

“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!” 

Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”

You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd. 

When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor. 

SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week

The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.

Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too. 

When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you. 

“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“

“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.

“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”

He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”

You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room. 

He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.

“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”

You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”

He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”

So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.

He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.

You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.

“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.

He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.

“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”

“Home.”

With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set. 

“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.

You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in. 

The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.

“Which one was your room again?” he asked.

You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.

An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.

“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”

You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.

“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you…quivering.”

“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“

He tsked. “Y/N.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“

He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”

You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back. 

A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys tv #the boys amazon #homelander #homelander the boys #the boys

[togrowoldinv]

To Show Thanks

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, bathtub sex (W receiving), soft sex

Note: The most wonderful time of year indeed. Enjoy the milf!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The house smells of turkey and the holiday season as Wanda stands by the stove. She’s been cooking since the crack of dawn, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve helped with a few things, but mostly it’s been Wanda who is putting in the work. The twins run around the house and play as they wait for the company to arrive.

“No! I’m running out of time!” Wanda’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“It’s only 5, baby. You still have about an hour until the guests arrive,” you say.

“That’s not long enough,” she says, a sigh falling from her perfect lips. They form into a pout as she observes the work she has ahead of her.

“Well, you could use your magic,” you say.

Wanda smiles but shakes her head.

“No magic today. Just me,” she says.

“You are magic no matter what, my love,” you tell her.

You stand up from your chair and hug Wanda from behind. She sinks into your touch. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, you make her feel relaxed even if for just a moment.

“Tell you what,” you begin. “I’ll get the rowdy boys to set the table and I’ll help you do anything you need. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Wanda repeats though she’s not sure she believes it.

You kiss her cheek once more for good measure and then you go find the boys. They’re in their room playing Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” you say. “How about we pause the game and go help Mom get ready for the guests?”

“Okay!” Billy answers easily. He’d do anything for his mom.

“Can we finish this level?” Tommy asks.

“Later, buddy,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. He pouts like Wanda does.

“I have a super secret task for the two of you,” you tell them before you leave the bedroom.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“Today is Thanksgiving, which means that you tell people that you’re thankful for them. I got your mom a card and I was thinking you two could write a sweet note in it for her. What do you think?”

“Yes!” They both agree. Anything for Wanda.

You smile and lead them to the home office where they work on the card. You leave them to go back and help Wanda. Once they’re done, they come downstairs and set the table.

Wanda was right about timing being close, but you manage to have everything cooked and ready to serve at exactly 6 o’clock.

“We did it!” Wanda says excitedly.

“You did it, babe. All you,” you say.

Wanda smiles softly and places a soft kiss to your lips. The boys feign disgust. Soon, the doorbell rings.

She answers the door and lets guests inside one by one. Steve is first with Natasha, Maria, Tony, Sam, and Bucky not far behind. You remember meeting them all at the boys birthday party, but it’s so nice to see them again.

Everyone gathers around the table and begins to eat Wanda’s wonderful food.

“This is amazing, Wanda,” Steve compliments.

“Yeah, great job, Wanda. Reminds me of home,” Sam says.

Wanda smiles shyly and tries to share the credit.

“No, this is all her. I can cook, but not like this. She’s like professional level good,” you say. Everyone nods in agreement.

“So, how’s everything going?” Maria asks Wanda.

You know what she’s referring to. After Wanda and Vision split up, the woman has gone through a hard time with the divorce and now child custody hearings. You’ve been the bright spot in all of it.

“It’s good,” Wanda says. “I didn’t know going to court would be so expensive but it’s almost over.”

“I’d sue his ass for what he’s put you through,” Natasha jumps in. Maria nudges her shoulder but she only shrugs.

You shoot her a smile and she returns a smirk.

“How about we just talk about what we’re thankful for?” Steve, ever the peacemaker, tries to change the subject.

“Great idea,” you agree. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for Wanda and her wonderful children and friends.”

Wanda smiles and kisses your cheek at your words. You hold her hand under the table. You’ve become her everything over these last few months.

Wanda speaks next. “I’m thankful for friends who have become family, for my precious babies, and for y/n who is truly my best friend.”

Everyone goes around and continues to share what they’re thankful for. Love and laughter fills the air as the hours pass by. After dessert and socializing, the guests go home.

Wanda is in the kitchen running a sink of dishes when you stop her.

“Come with me,” you say, pulling her softly.

“But the dishes, baby. They won’t do themselves,” she tries.

You keep walking and lead Wanda to the living room. The boys are there with Wanda’s card in hand.

“We got you this, Mommy,” Billy says, handing her the card.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Wanda says. She sits between the two boys. She opens the card and tears fill her eyes.

“We all signed it to say we’re thankful for you,” Tommy explains.

“Wow,” Wanda says softly. “This is so sweet. I’m so thankful for you guys too.”

Wanda kisses them both on the forehead as they lean into her. She reaches out to you too and you join the snuggle pile.

“Can we finish our level before bedtime?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“Yeah go ahead boys. Mom and I will be up to tuck you in soon,” you tell them. They hug you both before running up the stairs.

Wanda tries to get up but you pull her gently back onto the couch. She lands on your lap and you grin at her.

“Thank you for the card,” Wanda says.

“That was from the boys,” you say.

“Mhm. I know you were the mastermind,” she says. “I should really clean up dinner.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Wanda asks.

“You, my dear, did all the cooking so I will do all of the cleaning,” you say. “I’ll pour you some wine and you just get to relax, okay?”

You don’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, you kiss her and get up to start cleaning. Wanda sits at the counter and watches you. After a bit, you tuck the boys into bed and finish up cleaning.

“How about a bath?” You ask Wanda, leaning over the counter in a way you know draws her eyes to your chest.

“Only if you’ll join me,” she replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yes please,” you say.

You go to the bathroom together and run the water. Wanda slips off her clothes first and slides into the warm water. You join her and settle in behind her.

She rests her head on your shoulder as you softly run your hands over her body.

“Thank you for today,” Wanda says.

“You did the hard part.”

“No, I mean- you didn’t have to clean up or give me a card or anything,” Wanda explains.

“Oh,” you say. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it,” Wanda rushes to say. “It’s just- no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s new.”

“You deserve it, Wands. Everything doesn’t have to fall on you. And you deserve to hear how thankful we all are for you,” you say.

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. She turns her head to look into your eyes. “I really love you.”

“I really love you too, Wanda Maximoff.”

She leans up and kisses you. You deepen the kiss and let your hand slip between her legs. Wanda gasps at the feeling.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say.

She lets herself relax against you as you move your fingers through her folds. Wanda lets out the sweetest sounds with every stroke. You slip fully into her easily and make quick work of getting her to her high.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go,” you say softly as she comes against your fingers.

Wanda’s eyes remain closed in pleasure as you simply hold her against you. She stays there until the water gets too cold and you have to get out.

You get dressed in warm pajamas and snuggle into bed next to each other. Wanda clings to you.

“I’m so thankful for you,” Wanda says as her eyes droop closed from exhaustion and relaxation.

“I’m thankful for you too, Wanda. I always will be,” you tell her.

With one more shared kiss, you two fall into a deep slumber that lasts until morning.

Wanda has never been so happy and that’s all thanks to you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff fluff #milf!wanda x reader

[comicaurora]

As someone who might be interested to make their own webcomic one day: Why did you decide to put Aurora on its own dedicated website instead of a platform like Webtoon or Tapas?

Don't get me wrong, the site looks great but it gotta be a lot of work to maintain, right?

It was a couple week's worth of work to set up and polish, and I've had to do very minor adjustments every couple months. In return I don't need to deal with ads, I don't need to conform my story or layout to any sort of site standard, I haven't been locked into any publishing arrangements and I can customize the site however I want. For me, that's an easy trade.

When the channel started getting big several years back, we started getting approached by multichannel networks asking to absorb us in exchange for guaranteed clicks. We decided very early on that we weren't going to do that, in large part because even the multichannel networks that weren't scams were at all times one executive decision away from exploding and taking all their subsidiaries down with them. We saw it happen to Machinima, and recent years have seen even more cases where one boss's boss's boss who doesn't know what they're doing absolutely wrecks everyone's arrangement - like how Unity spontaneously destroyed everyone's trust in them by trying to retroactively charge game devs for user downloads of their game, or how the Escapist fired the one guy who was holding their channel together, or when CollegeHumor got corporate-mandatedly forced into pivoting to Facebook video and then everyone got fired when that turned out to be a terrible idea, or even the whole Channel Awesome thing. Big conglomerates of small indie creators tend to catastrophically explode on the regular, scattering those creators to the winds and potentially destroying the archive of their work.

We've even seen social media platforms thought of as solid staples of the online landscape start withering away because one idiot buys them out and starts chewing on cables. People whose entire professional networking presence is on Twitter have had a really rough year.

From my perspective, centralizing the world's webcomics into two or three baskets is a really good way to lose all of them at once. Also I put all this work into never having to deal with a boss, and it would be weird to go out of my way to change that.

#asks #behind the curtain

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo. 

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some. 

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s. 

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy. 

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-” 

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table. 

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself. 

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know. 

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!” 

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they? 

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a  background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling” 

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room. 

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”. 

They talk  a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere CEO #yandere red room #yandere male #Victoria my oc #CEO my oc #Dr lee my oc #Doctor lee my oc #lovely smiles corps

[linnienin]

⁓⁕🍷 🌸 V e n u s ⁕ a n d ⁕ h o w ⁕ y o u ⁕ c h i l l 🌸 🍷⁕⁓

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

Ahhh Venus, the planet of love. We use it to talk about our relationships and misadventures in our love life. But it also is the planet of feminine energy, enjoyment, relaxation and indulgence. How do you chill using your Venusian energy? Let's find out looking at your Venus's sign and degree

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⁕ Aries / 1-13-25 degrees : *aggresively flying on the couch* play TV, *loud setting on*, watch the tv for 1 minute, gets bored, *roll off the couch*, goes to the kitchen, sees people, start a little chase (Jason Momoa meme entered the caption) 👀👐. After annoying people for a bit, do a little workout, tries to lift a 700 kg cause they *confident*, fail, they still confident, opt for the 0.5 kg, now they happy 😊💪. Dance lover. Enjoy drinking energy drinks. Not really a sipp-er, more of a chugg-er lmao. Carbs are their heaven, they cannot have enough (cause they move a lot, they need the energyy). When laying on the sofa need to put their head on someone else's shoulder or legs or head to feel safe and receive the physical contact they really crave. Enjoy taking short cold showers. Like playing chess (they're good at strategizing and know when to attack and they're bold about it). Cut their hair as a relaxing activity (until they have no hair left to cut lol), likes dyeing them too, preferabily with bolder colours.

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⁕ Taurus / 2-14-26 degrees: The yawn-er. They're MASTER at chilling. They chill doing everything, i'm not kidding, are they at home, are they at work? They be chilling allll the time. Lovers of the sofa, bed, and others soft big surfaces. Chill by taking their time doing everything, they be starting cooking at 9 a.m. to serve a meal at 1 p.m. ✨Sloth with grace✨. Quality over quantity. Enjoy passing time doing nothing...literally. They be like fixating on a thing and looking at it for an hour straight. Mad control of their focus. Meditating without realizing It. Probably sip chamomile. They like to think time doesn't exist, they got all the time in the world (until they wake up one day, look into the mirror and realize they forgot to shave their mustache for all this time). Hella romantic, enjoy picking up flowers, endless walks in nature, veery slowly, they be stopping every 2x3 to admire a little bug passing by.

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⁕ Gemini / 3-15-27 degrees: Tea time with their personalities. Lmao, no but they literally chill by checking in with their thoughts and their ideas. Loves listening to podcasts and documentaries. Multitasking hobbies. Yup, i have no clue how they even relax by doing 1738283 things at a time but it's a way to shut down their thoughts for a while. Yeah, i know, i just told you they chill by thinking too, but sometimes it becomes too much and they have to switch the brain off. Relax by painting their nails. Get experimental with makeup. Write fanfics but leave them unfinished 👀. Admire their pretty handwriting. Enjoy reading and talking about gossip a looot, too much hehe. Like to play games that require a broad knowledge on everything (ex Trivia). Thinking about doing stuff but actually not doing it lmfao, they just love to think about soo many ideas, that is a way to relax, but then they don't even write them down and poof, they're gone and they can't remember them and they get mad about it :(

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⁕ Cancer / 4-16-28 degrees : Cuddling with their pillow 24/7 (cause deep down they feel alone... 🥺). Play animal crossing. Imagine their future family, even tho they're actually stuck in the past lol. Most likely to binge watch series for a whole day and get emotional about it because they get too attached to the characters. If they could they'd never leave the house...ever lmao, total homebodies. Relaxing by spending time alone or with very closed ones, friends/family. Probably likes to collect plushies, funko pops, or mini cute figures of their favourite fictional characters ✨. Cooking and baking can be a relaxing activity to them, especially if they do it for their family or their guests. Have 'grandma's hobbies'... knitting/crocheting for example lol. Enjoy so much making photo albums, and even more looking at them from time to time. Love going to the sea, early mornings walking barefoot on the sand and admiring the immense ocean and the sun rising, they're fans of little details and very romantic/sweet scenarios. They enjoy being helpful to others, so they'll probably ask people if they can do something for them (especially if they see people struggling doing something, they'll gladly volounteer to offer their help).

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⁕ Leo / 5-17-29 degrees: Stars wannabe. Intensely crying in front of the mirror portraying a desperate girl that has been cheated on, then recompose themselves and admire how good they just were pffft. Put on glasses even at home to feel extra, hit the door while walking cause they can't see a thing, get on the floor purposely, decides to play the blind character, gets up, * sudden dramatic enhancement of the other senses*. Dancing with the starssss. No seriosuly, they should apply, but as the professional dancer cause they so good! (and well they're not stars.... yet 👀). Like the other 2 fire venuses they enjoy moving their body so workouts are very appreciated, but leos especially loove hiit workouts, go build that cooore. Lovers of loong passionate and romantic dramas, they wanna feel all the emotions and they stay loyal to a specific series so they wish it could go on forevahh (hello..."Beautiful" lmao). ✨ Randomly transform their home in a runway show. Start walking like a model to feel themselves ✨ List all the things they can do and skills they acquired to feel good about themselves, then they list all the things they wanna work towards to use that self esteem boost to enhance their motivation and work towards their future goals.

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⁕ Virgo / 6-18 degrees : Killing the chilling. No seriosuly, these people seem like they can't 100% chill properly, and some of them may take 'something' to feel completely detached and lost from reality for a bit... 👀 They chill by making plans. Always trying to find things to do and learn to always get better. Working on themselves is their favourite project. Scanning the room in bed instead of chilling, seeing if there's something they need to adjust or clean. Overthinking the heck out of their lives...wait weren't you supposed to chill? Nevermind 🙈. Roasting others...in their minds hehe, they won't let others see how much they enjoy analizing their mistakes. 'Lemme give you advice on this thing' , others: uhm... ok but chilllll. And you ask Virgo venuses whyy they continue to give advices even when people don't listen to them. Well... saying 'I told you' is more satifying than hearing 'i don't care' 😘 (underlying validation issues). Well...i mean, they could chill while crafting, i give you this, it's probably the only time where they get near the definition of chilling...but hey hold on, cause soon enough they gonna find out details about how they're not perfect at what they do so kill the chill again and let the procrastination beginnn (wait... is procrastination's Virgo's way of chilling?)

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⁕ Libra / 7-19 degrees: They wanna experience the finest things in life. They go to that fancy restaurant, get that fancy dress, buy those fancy flowers... they wanna feel cuddled by life and specifically... lifestyle. They need to feel they value by surroundings themselves with valuable things. That's why they chill by going shopping or talking to new people, because where they see value in, they get value from. It's all about feeling good about themselves. Have a sweet tooth (but enjoy eating overall, it's like they enjoy the experience of taste, they're not really picky ultimately). Can splurge on personal care, lots of tools for facials or expensive skincare (cause after eating sugar they need to mantain the perfect skin lol). They work a lot on the mantainance of the self. That's why they have a good eye for fashion and aesthetics, because they have been researching and analizing everything that's out there to understand what's better for them, but they still haven't found out their true style due to their indecisive nature 😂. Plus let's admit it, they like to change often and renew themselves to maintain that 'interesting persona' 👀

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⁕ Scorpio / 8-20 degrees : Drowning their nose in personality tests. Seriously, when these people wanna chill, all they got on their mind is how to understand that mind even more. They're detectives of their own psyche. Lovers of shadow work. Let all those intense questions unfold! Obsessive researchers. They find a topic they like, they delve deep into it until they've found enough to feel satisfied and jump on another theme to obsess themselves over. Probably watching a lot of documentaries on criminals and unresolved cases trying to find the final answer themselves. Masters at playing Cluedo. Read everybodies's minds in every single setting, it makes them relaxed by feeling in control of the room's energies, and yeah... even during lunch between family members lmao. Need plenty of alone time. They're secretly training to become wizards/witches 👀. Probably like to sip pomegranate juice or any other juicy and thick flavoured drink. Sometimes they forget to even eat because of how invested theyre in their researches lol. I know you're already attractive as hell, but y'all take care of your bodyyy

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⁕ Sagittarius / 9-21 degrees : The boy/girl scout. Those people HAVE to move, they can't stay still or they'll start to stress out. They love a good trip somewhere new, visiting places abroad, taking that bus/train and not knowing where it'll take them (they get lost easily lmfao but they don't mind it, it's part of the thrilling experience). Documentaries lovers: can't go out? Let them wander with their minds. Like to change activities often as they get bored quickly. Enjoy trying to eat different types of food from different cultures. They like to go shopping a lot, to have little souvenirs of all the places they've been to (can tend to overspend depending on other placements in the chart). The one who find excitement in daring to do what everyone else don't want to do. Can love to pertake in volounteering activities, especially if they require them to sail to another country, they enjoy being helpful to other people in need (if underdeveloped can have hero complex). Probably enjoy playing on the Wii in competitive games, they're always up for a competition, even for the slightest thing, like "who can finish up this bottle of water first?? Ready? Start!" (they can announce little challenges like this veeery randomly and everyone will follow their lead, it's crazy haha)

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⁕ Capricorn / 10-22 degrees : Counting their money. Sorting their bills. Sooo relaxing right, especially when the money in your bank account keep groowingg 👀 (they probably watch cash envelope stuffing videos + budgeting on YT). Relax by doing the same routine every day, they can do it without even thinking, and that to them is relieving. They enjoy the adulting process, so actually...going to work can feel like chilling to them lol, they like to feel a sense of responsibility, it makes them feel motivated to always grow, and having a sense of order and stability, that's what makes them feel relaxed and safe. Constantly reading self-help books. Probably sipping their wine while chilling or an expensive drink or a concentrated drink (blueberry juice peraphs). They like high quality items, so they usually shop designer clothes/accessories, they love those labels lol. They love the sofa, don't ask me why lol, most people love the bed, capricorn venuses love the sofa, periodt (can it be because the space is restricted and Cap being ruled by Saturn, planet of restrictions... well, could be).

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⁕ Aquarius / 11-23 degrees : The videogamer. Have way too many hobbies that have nothing in common. Wanna splurge on those headphones too? You already have the bunny ears ones, the cat ears ones, the led ones, guyzzz you have a whole collection of them lmao. Are probably into reading about the unknown mysteries of the universe. Conspiracy theories lovers (they just love when they can confuse others people's minds with all their absurdities). The ones who find excitement in daring to do what everyone else don't want to do. Collectors of technology stuff, yup, they still have the gameboyy 🥺. Unpredictable af but they enjoy being this way so people can always question them and think of them as interesting. Introverted people that need to recharge by being alone. Probably Webtoons and manga lovers. Enjoy pertaking in protest marches, feeling part of the crowd (sense of belonging) and feeling they can contribute to a greater cause. They feel the need to do something crazy once in a while, so if you see them bunjee jumping randomly, or trying others 'dangerous' activities don't be surprised (pls, be careful, and don't try anything illegal....understood?👀...pfft, i already know you're gonna roll your eyes, and think, here we go, another sheep that is trying to tell me what to do lol)

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⁕ Pisces / 12-24 degrees : Do you think thinking about "what ifs" is relaxing?? Y'allll pleaseee, i know the feeling is good when you imagine your perfect reality...but...you literally take it as a hobby and do it way too much...to your own detriment 😭. They looove watching romance movies and dramas, it's their bread and butter (to give food to those daydreams right?🙃). Play music ALL day and get lost in their world, and then suddenly it's time to go to bed and they realize they lost another day to daydreaming, now they got to the nightdreaming phase of the day lol 😂😭. Loves taking baths, the contact with water feels truly healing to them, they could stay in the water 24/7. Can be extremely good at painting or drawing, or singing (and other artistic activities too), and relax by doing these activities. Just asking, but are y'all ok with the low blood pressure?😢(also curious, do you tend to have low blood pressure?). Can relax but lose themselves watching the phone,especially social medias. Until they realize they're literally watching and living an illusion, they think they live by watching everyone else's lives and connect with them through the screen, but they're not living their own life by going out there, and experiencing the world as main characters, not just extras of their own lives.

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Congrats! You've reached the end! ✨

Hope you enjoyed this post, always rememer that we are not just one placement, so if you didn't resonate, that's ok, i'd love to know your feedback in both cases (if you did or did not resonate), it is always very appreciated 🥰

Wish you a wonderful day! 🍷 Yours, Linnie 🌸

#astro notes #venus in the signs #astro observations #venus notes #astrology observations #planet venus #astro community