#and a lot of these pictures were in-game pictures

[fivestaralien]

caddy princess

-> minygu x gn!reader

warnings+”: fluff!!, suggestive, reader is depicted as smaller than mingyu, reader and mingyu can not keep their hands to themselves, many golf references that I could not care less to double check if they made sense or not, pls don't ask me the color of his shirt word count: 1787 notes ִֶָ ࣪˖ mingyu on my mind. lmk what you think of this one!!! reblogs and comments help the most!! I had fun writing for him and tbh I find people that play golf vv attractive but I also think its one of the most BORING sports to watch. its a love hate relationship. anywayyyy, stay safe and be gentle with yourselves<3

//

It’s too early in the morning and your brain is a little fuzzy. You agreed a few days ago to join Mingyu in a game of golf and you were seriously regretting it. You should've double checked the time you’d be going. Though you don’t want to miss the chance to ogle him while he plays. 

 Your eyes follow Mingyu's tall figure as he walks back and forth between the bathroom and bedroom closet. He is rambling about something that happened at work the other day but all you could focus on was the rippling muscles of his back and arms. The golf shirt he throws on hugs his body so well you have no clue how you were going to survive this outing. 

 “.. And then.. hey, are you even listening?” Mingyu pouts after seeing how out of it you look. 

 You hum in acknowledgement but you were still staring at his arms. He rolls his eyes with a smirk, continuing to put his belt on as he walks over to you. You are laying on your side with your head resting on your palm. Your eyes shift up to follow his movements and eventually meet his gaze. 

 “You with me?” Mingyu squats down so you wouldn't strain your neck and rests a hand on your waist. 

 “Yeah sorry, it’s just way too early for you to be looking this attractive.” You mumble shyly, tracing a finger along the contours of his arm muscle. 

 “You’re gonna be a problem today aren't you?” 

 You then squeeze his bicep, “ no idea what you’re talking about.” the corner of your mouth lifts up a little. 

 “We have to leave soon so get up and get dressed honey.” He tells you then kisses the crown of your head. 

 Mingyu has never seen you fawn this hard so obviously over him. Usually it’s the other way around so he was definitely going to be savoring this for a long time. You shove yourself into your pillow, groaning about how you just want to sleep. He laughs, kissing the back of your head before getting up. 

 You follow him into the kitchen after you finish getting dressed and watch from the countertop as he makes snacks for in between holes. He would occasionally bring a few pieces of food up to your mouth for you to eat, which you accept with a smile. When he finished packing it all up you hop off the counter and then help him bring stuff out to the car. He takes to heavier things, like his clubs and a mini cooler filled with ice and water, while you carry the bag of food. 

 Mingyu pulls out of the driveway not long after and the drive to the golf course is peaceful, causing you to go back into that sleepy state. You look over at him, his wrist casually resting on the gearshift, veins branching their way up his forearm from his hand and the hat he put on at the last second leading the focus to his crazy sharp jawline. You barely think as you reach over and run your fingers along the outline of it. 

 “Thank you for coming with me.” Mingyu's voice is still deep from waking up, snapping you from your trance. 

 “Of course,” you squeeze his wrist, “ I love spending time with you and watching you play golf is a huge bonus.” 

 You go back to tracing his veins as his laugh fills the car. Just as you arrive at the course parking lot, the sun peeks over the mountains, casting  various pinks and reds to fill the horizon. You lean on your knees to get a better look and take your phone out to take a picture. 

 “Okay I see why you do this so early. It’s so pretty.” 

 “Seeing you all pouty in the morning is way prettier.” Mingyu leans over the console and kisses your warm cheek. 

 You smile down at your phone to try and hide how much his words affect you but of course he couldn’t let you be shy in peace. He pinches your cheek lovingly while cooing affectionate words in that soft high pitched voice he knows gets you to crumble. 

 “Stop it.” You whine and push him away. 

 “What? Only you are allowed to openly obsess over your partner?” 

 “No.. but.. whatever, shut up.” 

 You turn your head away, face on fire and look back towards the sunrise. Mingyu kisses your cheek a few times then leaves to go into the main building to pay for a golf cart. He opens your door when he comes back and the both of you, after gathering all of your things, begin walking towards where they keep them. 

  Once again you are drooling over his arms. You watch the way his muscles ripple as he lifts his golf bag into the storage compartment attached to the back causing you to swallow hard. Next he lifts the cooler and bag of food into the back seats. The golden sunlight is hitting him perfectly, it takes everything in you not to pounce on him. 

 Mingyu clears his throat, your face flaming hot at getting caught, “don’t.” you warn. 

 He smiles wide and kisses you softly then pats your hip, signalling to get into the golf cart. The first few holes you just sit and watch with casual conversation in between. He is teeing up on the 4th hole when your stomach starts to grumble. You wait until he takes the shot before asking if he was ready for a snack or water. Mingyu nods and tells you which one to get out for him. 

 “Honey, why don’t you hit one?”

 “And completely embarrass myself in front of my hot, insanely talented boyfriend? No thanks.” 

 You bite into your snack. Mingyu grabs your calves after sitting back down, laying them across his thighs and takes his snack and water from your waiting hand. 

 “Would it be more enticing if I said I would help you.” He questions and you tap your chin as if you were contemplating hard.  

 Mingyu continues, “I mean think about it. You wouldn’t really need to do anything,” his fingers begin tracing along your soft skin, " I'd be right behind you, guiding you to hit it right.” 

 Just the thought of his giant arms around you, even if it’s just for a game, had you nodding frantically before he could get another word out. The triumphant smile on his face makes your heart flutter and you lean over a little and kiss him. 

 “Only one hit though.” You tell him after pulling away. 

 You never had an interest to play before so having you finally say yes meant the world to Mingyu. He agrees with the same smile still on his face. You both finish your snacks and then continue down the fairway to where his ball landed. 

 Your eyes fall back to Mingyu's biceps then trail down to the way his hands grip the club as he goes to hit the ball again. If your phone could track the hours you stare at Mingyu like it does screen time, it would malfunction and overheat. Not a second goes by where you aren’t gazing at him in some way. He finished the hole with a birdie and you were making your way to the next one. 

 “Alright baby, you’re up.” Mingyu pats your thigh. 

 He sets up your golf ball and motions for you to come and stand right in front of him. A golf club is placed in your hands as he encases your body with his own. He guides your hands into the right position and leans your upper body forward a bit. You can’t help but swallow hard when Mingyu rests his head on your shoulder, pushing himself closer against your back. 

 “Spread your legs a little bit and bend your elbows like this,” his hands come up just under your elbows to move your arms, “make sure to bend your knees too.” 

 You try your best to follow along with his touch and words but it is all too distracting. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, you needed to sit down. Your knees nearly give out when his lips graze from your neck up to your ear. 

 “Straighten your back.” He whispers. 

 Your face is on fire as you do it and you don’t even process it when Mingyu raises the club and hits the ball for you, hands pressing yours firmly to stay in position. He leaves a few lingering kisses on your cheek, praising you for a good hit even though you didn’t do a single thing.  As you sit back in the passenger's seat, you do everything except look at Mingyu. 

 The smirk on his face is telling enough that he was enjoying this which only made your blush deepen. Luckily he doesn’t press you to do it again and you continue to watch him play. By the end of the hole you were so hot and bothered you couldn’t talk without choking on your words. 

 Mingyu happily places a hand on your thigh, kneading very sensually as he drives to the next hole. To his surprise you take his hand off and place it back on his lap. When he does it again and you repeat your previous action he can’t help the challenge right in front of him. Instead of trying a third time he rests his arm behind your shoulders on the seat. His fingers trace patterns along your shoulder and the back of your neck making goosebumps scatter across your skin. You lean forward but his hand comes to lightly grasp your shoulder. 

 “Come on honey. Are you scared you won’t be able to stop yourself if I keep touching you?” You almost scoff but he wasn’t wrong so you just turn your head away from him.

 “Can you at least look at me?” He pouts. 

 You let out a big sigh and reluctantly meet his eyes. The smile on his face makes you want to smack it off, knowing he is going to use this situation against you whenever he sees fit. He had stopped the cart a while ago so it didn’t scare you when he took your face in both his hands and kissed you deeply. 

  “Can you be good until we get home?” Mingyu asks, his voice deep.

 “I think I should be asking you that.” You quip back and he laughs against your lips. 

 Mingyu took his sweet time finishing his game and by the last hole you threatened to leave him here if he didn’t hurry up. You couldn’t even make it out of the parking lot.

// main masterlist , find more fics of seventeen here

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Not on the carpet! | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Notes: Different from the other ones. Reader knows what his husband does for work.

Summary: Your dear Husband comes home with blood and all you want is it to not touch the dam carpet!!

Warnings: Blood - Canon Violence - Suggestive -

The Salesman knows he is not looking his best right now. Not after having to kill some people who were getting too close to the truth of the games.

And he knows what his dear wife will say once he opens the door. Instead of a warm smile a look of panic will be there. Not for him.

"Dont let that blood fall on the carpet!" You tell him in a stern tone coming to greet him when you did hear the door open but stopped after seeing the blood on him.

"Hello my Love. I hope your day went better than mine" He says pulling off his suit jacket but not moving from the entrance.

Last time he did get blood on the carpet not only was he forced to clean it himself. He was banned to the guest room (no problem the bed its comfortable). But his lovely wife banned him of sex. For a week. And she did nothing but keep temting him all week. Wearing pajama shorts that barely covered her ass and let him see her legs. Light colored shirts that let him see her tits and nippels.

Oh, how he wanted to just throw you over the table and fuck you nice and rough. Make you forget your name and only know his. He wanted you to regret it.

But he had to demostrate he did have some self control. So on the last night exaclty when the clock did hit the final time he was on you like a dog in heat. Pulling you over his lap, touching all the exposed skin and leaving bruises behind.

And while that sex was amazing. He would prefer to not be on another week without sex.

"Here" You did appear again giving him a big plastic bowl so he could put his dirty clothes in. "I will wash it later. I can only imagine how much of a pain its going to be" Your face did show the small anger towards it.

"Sorry Love. But the blood of these worms seems to be as dirty as them" He responded removing his tie too.

"You are not injured, right?" You asked seeing some blood on his cheeck but he just dismisses your question with a move of his hand. "Good. Let me get you some cotton and water then"

"Im finally allowed inside my home?" He half joked as he saw you go then do a stop and look back at him. "It did not get on my shirt I promise"

He remembers that one time when it did get on his shirt. He had to sat for then minutes of you scolding him.

"...Then come. But you know what will happen if I see a single blood drop!"

The Saledman groaned following you into the big bathroom taking a seat on the toilet. "Not sex ban again my Love" He begged pulling you close so he could get his face against your stomach "Jerking off to pictures of you or videos of us its never enough. I need the real thing" To add his point he gives your ass a firm grip.

You try to ignore him as you get some water and cotton to clean off the blood from his face.

"Dont be a baby" Its your response as you slowly clean his handsome face. Glad to see that there are not injuries but just dry blood as he said. "And you did make up for it when the week ended" You added the memory still fresh on your mind.

"I came so fast" He says his eyes never leaving you. Him falling for you soft touch. "I was inside you and then I just filled you up so fast" he sounded so dissapointed with himself.

"You did. But it was a lot. I believe we should let your balls get as much cum as they can so you can fill me up really nice"

The Salesman let out a small sound between a laught and a groan. "Dont make me pull you against that wall...I still need to shower so you dont get the smell of these men"

You smiled at his possessive nature giving him a kiss on the head once you were done cleaning him.

"And I havent finish making your favorite food. So looks like we both will have to attend diferent things before I can greet you properly"

"You are my favorite food. You always taste so divine. I wish I could be between your legs all day. Making you cum over and over again. Getting all of hit on my face and chin. I will lick it up so good. You would be crying from how much stimulation you are getting. But I know you would not care about it. You would let me keep going, because you love me. And you love what I do to you"

You blushed hard under his gaze and his smirk. He was not wrong. And that scene did happen once. You were so wasted after it...you could barely walk let alone think straight. You were like a doll and he loved it. He loved being the cause of your pleasure.

"Yeah well. Maybe later" one look from him made you crumble. There was not a "maybe" it was a "defenetly" and part of you believed he would not wait till you ended dinner.

"Its a promise my Love" He said kissing your hand and wrist. He closed his eyes as he smelled your skin. Oh how he loved it. It was just...you and it was all he needed. "Go and try finishing that dinner for me. But...maybe I will skip it and go for the special plate of the house"

You let out a small smile your face burning. "Go on, get on that shower first" You said leaving him to be "I will bring you a new set of fresh clothes"

"Thanks Love" Your Husband responded removing his shirt in order to get inside the shower, his mind already thinking on the idea of having you for himself once he removes the smell of these worms from himself.

And, oh how much he is going to enjoy every second of it.

[sheepispink]

Is this a Date? ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི lt ghost x baker!reader, part of the Sweet as Sugar Series

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: after your past hesitance, Simon asks you out on more of a silly date than a romantic one. Nonetheless, he begins to realise just how much you two really feel for eachother

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི a/n: fair warning that all the arcade games in this are based of the ones i go to, which are british obvs, so accurate? yes. particularly fun? probably not. Also i said chips but i know some of yall will call it fries. chips is the british word thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

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———

Finally, Simon would be taking you out properly, just like he’d been trying to hype himself up to do for nearly three weeks. He gave you some time since you confessed your anxious thoughts to him, but you’re already feeling a lot better, practically radiating like the sun.

”Are you busy this week?” He considered texting you the question, but he was sitting in the cafe with you again and he just couldn’t wait any longer, half tempted to drag you out with him today.

You’re sitting opposite him in the empty shop, the closed sign bumping against the door. “Hmm.. don’t think so. My parents are taking over to give me a break.” He watches you eye the biscuit tin you leave out for him no matter how many times he insists that he doesn't always eat them, and passes you a bourbon. Your lips quirk up, a soft grin as you take a large bite into the chocolate biscuit, crumbs on your lips.

”A break huh? Well, if you haven't planned anything yet then why don't we go out?” You perk up instantly at that, a light clang of the teaspoon you just dropped on the table echoing out as the possibilities run through your head. Sure, you went to the farm and the winter festival with him, but actually going out? ..Is this a date?

“Where would we go?”

Before you know it, it’s Thursday and he’s wrapped you up in his jacket, the one he knows you love. Since you seemed to have such a great time at the festival, he figures he’d play it safe this time and take you to everyone’s favourite destination— the arcade. His decision is right, of course, confirmed by your eyes brightening as you step out of his car and he has to convince you to let him lock the car first before you start dragging him inside.

“Oooh! Let’s do the shooting!” You exclaim, pulling him along to the little booth and he picks up the fake gun, eyeing it with slight distaste. It’s not close to a real gun in the slightest, but he pushes that thought away as you grab the gun and pull a playful pose, pretending to look through the scope. “Alright, alright.” He places the coins into the slots, watching as the zombies start to approach.

Turning his brain off becomes increasingly easier with you, especially as you aren't afraid to express yourself or act the slightest bit silly, yelling at him to get the ones approaching you on the right. “Simon! I’m gonna die!” You squeal, still pretending your very best to act like a proper fighter as you dramatically move the gun around to aim at all the approaching enemies. “Got your back, love.” He mutters, already forgetting that these games are practically light work compared to anything he’s ever done before, his eyes locked onto the screen as he destroys anything coming your way. By the end of it, you’ve got your hands in the air as you cheer and even he’s grinning wide as possible.

What he didnt expect for you to call out to a random stranger, the woman’s head turning to your voice. “Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?” He has no time to argue, you’re already pulling the fake gun up to your face like some kind of secret agent all while he can hold it across his chest like he does on missions. The woman smiles and returns your phone, only for you to drag him away before he can say anything else.

The pair of you continue through the arcade, him even laughing when you fail to keep up with the dance game you insisted you were brilliant at. It’s not your fault he sneakily picked the hard mode to watch you scramble to get all the notes, but he won't admit that. Next, you drag him over to the air hockey table, a mischievous look on your face as you begin to rack up points like they’re nothing (only because you screamed “Ow!” and he immediately dropped his pusher). “That’s cheating.” You watch his eyes narrow and his stern voice comes through, and you immediately panic like a deer in headlights, eyes so wide you don't notice him pushing the puck straight into your goal. “Hey!”

This time he pulls you along, leading you to a new side of the arcade since it recently got refurbished and towards a booth that has a target behind the barrier. Curious, you raise an eyebrow before looking at the sign above. “Try beating me now.” Damnit, you know he’s smirking behind that mask and you’d be damned because watching him hurl every axe to the centre of that target had to be the definition of attractive. Unlike you, where the axe bounced off the target altogether whilst he tried his best not to stifle his laugh. It really was quite comical, the way you huffed under your breath as it continued to miss, only grazing the edge before bouncing off again. “I-it’s not funny!” He’s had to turn away from how hard he’s laughing right now, and you’re half tempted to give him a fake punch for that though you know he’d only just laugh harder. “Sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll teach you.”

He steps behind you, his hands curving over yours to help fix your lousy form into one that will definitely produce some better results. Well, at least it sticks this time.. on the edge of the target that is. “Simon!” You exclaim as he bursts out laughing again, thankful for his mask as his face is practically burning hot now. “Okay, okay—“ He adjusts you again, helping you tilt your arm back enough and aim it at the centre. Slowly stepping back, he signalls you to throw it. Your brows furrow as you concentrate, arm going a little further back before you throw it forward and it finally hits directly on the bullseye. “I did it! Look—“ You cheer, instantly spinning around to throw your arms tight around his middle as if it was something you’ve done a million times before, like it was something you’d have done for years. The touch immediately fries his harshly trained nerves, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he looks down at the sight of you squeezing him as hard as you possibly can— he can't say his stomach did not flip at least a little. You seem to notice, eyes quickly glancing up at him. Though, before you can stammer out an apology, he scoffs and pinches your cheeks. “Took you long enough.”

———

Exhausted from your escapades, he takes you to a diner. Well it’s barely anything like actual American diners but they make good burgers, so who can complain? You order your usual, and when Simon sees you eye the milkshake options for too long you end up with a tall glass of it in front of you. Meanwhile, he decides to go for something new for once, figuring the description was exaggerating, before he ends up with a giant hunk of a burger before him. “Oh.” The sight has you giggling far too much.

“Those two idiots knocked out right on me. You’d think they’re kids coming back from playcare the way they fall asleep anywhere.” He huffs, describing to you the less gruesome details of his recent deployment.

“Hmm.. Soap is the one with the mohawk right? And Gaz… the one who wears a cap all the time?” You ask, snickering from his story and he nods along, confirming your questions.

“Soap looks lively— well by what I've seen anyway. You said Gaz got his name for being quiet huh? I bet he’s one of those types who randomly have the best quips?”

Simon smiles behind the mask, intrigued by your new captivation about his teammates. Sure, he’s used to talking with you about whatever, just as he is with others. But he never really talked about himself much, at least not more than a few opinions on what he liked— he was far more interested in whatever you’d say. He just never considered you’d be so interested in what he’d say too. You’ve asked before, and he never paid much attention, but now you’re even remembering things from past conversations and expressing intrigue in his life. He might need to step outside to breathe properly again.

”Yeah, he’s definitely that type. Johnny barely wins an argument with him around; I think Cap’ even has a hard time defending himself.” You giggle again, stealing some of the ketchup from his plate with a swipe of your chip. “Do you see them all the time?”

“Yeah. Practically have our rooms right beside each other. We watch the football games in the common room.” He rolls his eyes when you coo at him, saying “aww” and smiling wide at him like he’s a kid who made his first friend or something. You really are an exception huh? He can’t even get all that mad at you when you look at him with curiosity swirling in your eyes.

“Why don't you come down with them sometime? You can bring them to the bakery.” You hum, licking the ketchup off your lip as you chomp down on your last bite of the burger. For some reason, he thought you were joking— would you really entertain a bunch of random men just for the sake of them being his friends? It didn't make sense; you didn't even know them, nor had you met more than one either. ”Pretty sure Johnny would eat all your pastries, love. It’s not worth it.”

“Well, I guess I'll just have to make extra that day then. I’m serious, y’know? Bring them around at your usual time, I'll have tea and the pastries ready.” Now that was unexpected; you were actually willing to give up some of your time to welcome his teammates, ones that he’s never even introduced you to before. Wait— did you think he was rude for not introducing you before?

”I did plan to introduce you at some point— they’re just… busy.” Wow, he actually fumbled his words for once, at this rate his chest will falter as well with the rate you keep surprising him with your genuineness. “Huh? I know, I just thought it’d be nice for them to relax a bit, have something sweet.” You hum, sipping your milkshake he bought for you, before passing the glass over to him and for some reason he doesn't hesitate, slipping your straw beneath his mask as he takes a sip himself.

He ignores the taste of your lipgloss that lingers.

—————

He drives you home soon after, walking you all the way up to your apartment door. You start slipping off your shoes, the time already growing late since you had only gotten to the arcade at five o'clock. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, knowing he should probably say his goodbyes and leave now— because he’s not yours, and you're not his.

Yet.

Your head turns, a brow raised at him curiously. “Won't you come in?” His words clog in his throat, wondering if he should accept the offer. Surely you’d be heading to sleep soon enough anyways, wouldn’t it only be an inconvenience to keep you up any longer? He’s conflicted, wanting to leave you be but ever since the last time he was here, he’s thought about your home more than he’s yearned for a second of rest, which is very often.

“It’ll be late if you drive all the way back to base now. You can just crash on my couch again.” Your hand finds his sleeve, pulling him inside before he can utter a sound against you, and closing the door behind him. “Thanks for today by the way. ..Do you wanna get brunch tomorrow too?”

He thought dating was meant to be taken slow, something that’d develop over weeks and dates were planned apart. Well, that’s how everyone said it worked. Now here you were, not even parting for him and asking for more of his time. Trying to hide the swelling of his pupils is impossible and he has to bend down to undo the laces on his shoes just to try. “Is that even a question? Of course.”

He stands once more, but you’re looking at him with lovestruck eyes, affection pouring out of every crevice as you grin and hug him again for the second time that day. “I knew you wouldn't say no. I’ll make us some tea after I get changed.” Your eyes crinkle again sparkling with something you don't even attempt to hide before you step on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek where the mask doesn't quite cover.

Oh, so that’s what that look was—cheekiness, huh? Especially when you run away after that, scurrying into the bathroom as you snicker to himself. He looks up into the mirror in the hallway, realising his eyes have been struck wide.

————

You wander into the kitchen to start brewing the kettle, dressed in your favourite pajamas already whilst he heads to the bathroom to freshen up. He stares into your mirror, lingers of black paint still clinging onto his lashes. Should he take off his mask? It’s not like you haven't seen him sipping from his drink before, or even that time he fell asleep on the couch without pulling it down again. His fingers linger on the fabric, hesitating as his heart churns with the need to drop everything right now for you. His brain screams at him to act rationally but his gut tells him to take it slow, else he scares you off altogether. He sighs, conflicted, before a flash of light appears in the corner of his eye. Your phone had been left behind on the windowsill, a notification lighting it up. He picks it up so he can hand it back to you, only for it to flash again, the lock screen the picture of the two of you posing with your fake guns, your hand doing bunny ears behind his head. His own sits in his other hand, the picture of you with his stupidly oversized burger held up to your mischievous face flashing to life.

Maybe not today. But he’d definitely get you back for the surprise kiss, stepping out of the bathroom to sneak up behind you as you grab the milk from the fridge.

————-

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Taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow @enfppuff @oydan @keytofu @vogueprincess

[hellvst]

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 4.7k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; quinn is playing + canucks won yesterday against la? we are soo back! i kinda forgot to give simon a face claim...oops! but, i did have an idea or picture him to look similar to kevin fiala or roman josi, i just can't find a face claim for him. it's up to your imagination as well! happy reading <3

CHAPTER TWO

SYDNEY

My alarm went off multiple times within the past fifteen minutes, and kept hitting the snooze button each time it did. So much for wanting to wake up early this morning.

I fluttered my eyes open, adjusting to the natural light through the window.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the dull ache in my right leg. It wasn’t a sharp pain–more like a persistent stiffness, reminding me that no matter how much progress I made, and lots of physiotherapy sessions, I wouldn’t always feel one hundred percent.

There was no point in dwelling on it. I had a busy day ahead, and self-pity wasn’t on the agenda. Not today.

I ungracefully got out of bed–did some stretches, single-leg squats, and hopped on one foot.

Nothing some movement wouldn’t fix.

The discomfort usually disappeared once I got my body moving. Truly odd, but if it got me through the day, I was not going to complain.

I moved through my morning routine with muscle memory. A quick shower, skin care, matching black compression set, an oversized hoodie thrown on without much thought, and tied my hair into a ponytail.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the coffee machine was already doing its magic. As I waited, I flipped the TV on in the living room out of habit as I did every morning. 

The post-game analysis was still running from last night’s Canucks-Oilers’ game. I wasn’t surprised that this was the first thing that popped up on the screen, considering it’s been a while since my hometown, Vancouver, had made a playoff appearance. It was a huge deal for the city.

I caught a whiff of the last few minutes after getting home late from the studio–just in time to witness the whole debacle unfold. 

My brother, Simon, and his teammate.

The miscommunication. The puck hitting the post. The loss.

A blown play that cost them a ticket to conference finals. 

Now, every analyst, reporter, or fan was commenting and dissecting it.

“This was a complete breakdown,” one of the reporters began. “Simon Gray and Quinn Hughes were on totally different pages the entire game. You can’t have your best forward and your top defensemen out of sync in the most important moments–”

I turned the TV off and took a sip of my coffee, already knowing how that played out. My stomach was tightening at the sight of Simon after the buzzer went off.

Before the game, I sent him a short and simple ‘good luck!’, and haven’t heard from him since. Fair enough, given the outcome of the game.

Simon was going to be miserable for days, maybe weeks, more likely the entire summer. My brother was going to be impossible to deal with after that. And if history has taught itself, he was going to blame others for his mistakes. He always did.

I looked at the time, almost choking on my coffee, “Shit.”

I was running late for my first private session of the day, and Phoebe–one of my regular clients–was going to get there before me. Again.

If someone had asked me years ago what I saw myself doing, being a Pilates instructor wouldn’t even make the list. But life has a way of throwing you in places you’d never expect.

It started after the incident, I don’t talk about it much–there was nothing left to say. It happened. It definitely changed things. And for a very long time, I felt lost in my own body, like going through motions without purpose.

Doctors and my physiotherapist gave me exercises, stretches, and a never-ending list of things to “try”. Nothing clicked. Nothing felt right.

Until, I stepped into my first Pilates class. I remembered feeling a bit skeptical at first, convinced it was another trendy workout–the one all the girls tried out. It was the first time in a long time I felt connected to myself again. 

I kept going. I got better. And then I got really good. Good enough that one day, the owner of the studio I’d been training at, pulled me aside and asked if I ever thought about teaching. 

I laughed at the time, but the idea lingered that it stuck. And here I was: an instructor at Lumé Wellness–the top studio branch in Vancouver–fully booked for the summer, doing what I love.

The studio wasn’t that far from my apartment, twenty minutes tops without traffic which most days I was thankful for.

By the time I made it to the studio, sure enough, Phoebe was already inside one of the private rooms, stretching on the mat.

She raised an eyebrow at me as I put my bag down. “Would it kill you to be on time for once?” Phoebe teased, pulling her dark curls into a bun.

I rolled my eyes and started stretching beside her. “It’s five minutes.”

She shrugged and wiggled her brows, “Five minutes that I spent wondering if you were late because a guy kept you up last night.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned with a smile. “Don’t start this again, Phoebe.”

All she did was grin, absolutely delighted at the sight of my suffering. Phoebe was in her late forties, a social butterfly with too much energy for the morning slot, and too much curiosity for her own good. 

Plus the fact she was newly single and thriving in the chaos of her impending divorce, loved to poke at my non-existing dating life. She was a sucker for drama, and if my love life–or lack thereof–could provide her entertainment, she’d without a doubt take it.

“Oh come on, humor me, Syd. There has to be someone,” she said, settling onto the reformer. “You’re giving off the ‘I’m seeing someone new’ glow.”

I scoffed at her. “That ‘glow’ you’re referring to is just the new overhead lighting.”

She snorted then sighed dramatically as I adjusted her stance, “You know, you should really make time for some fun.”

“I have fun.” I argued.

“Pilates and binge-watching The Office at home doesn’t count.”

She got me there.

We continued on with our session. Usually with Phoebe, time flies so fast when all she did was rant about her life–pestering me about mine–but she eventually let it go once we began the harder exercises.

I barely got a moment to breathe before moving on to my bigger group session. To my luck, this group was breeze to get through as they followed my exercises on the reformer with ease. Not to mention, the music blasting through the speakers in the studio allowed them to get into that rhythm which was helpful as well.

Just when the last song ended, the group of ladies’ chests heaved, the room was filled with breaths of exhaustion, and a few went straight for their water bottles.

“Alright, ladies! Great work today! Hope to see you in our next class.”

They all left one by one, saying ‘bye’ on their way out, until I was the only one left.

Two or three classes to teach in the mornings usually had me working around lunch.

And by then, I was starving. 

My routine was pretty much the same, there was not a lot to do with an hour break. But, most days consisted of grabbing a quick meal at the nearest bistro or cafe with my closest friend. As I was about to pick up my things off the floor, my phone in my pocket buzzed.

Speak of the devil herself.

“Hey, Diane,” I answered, tucking my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I packed.

“Are we still on for lunch? I’m already at the café.”

I heard the faint lively sounds of the city of Vancouver in the background. “Yeah, I’m about to leave the studio and make my way–”

“Sydney?”

Right as I was trying to make a beeline to the doors, I turned to see Grace–the owner of the studio–peeking out her office door. My stomach dropped.

“One sec, Di.” I lowered my phone, ending the call. “Everything alright, Grace?”

“Can you step into my office for a minute?”

Fuck. This cannot be good. 

I followed her inside. It was a rare sight to see any of the studio employees in Grace’s office, she usually came to talk to me after my classes, never the other way around.

She never gave off vibes that ever intimidated me. I have never seen her upset with anyone, unless they truly pushed her buttons. The word ‘nervous’ wasn’t enough to express how I was feeling right then and there.

“Have a seat,” she gestured to the empty chair across from her. I gave her a smile, but beneath that was a wave of anxiety washing over me.

I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. Did someone complain? Did I mix up the schedules or bookings? Did Phoebe finally rat me out for showing up late most of the time? The idea of me getting fired was not on my list of things today.

Grace sat behind her desk, clasping her hands together. “I have some news for you.”

Oh God. This is it. I was getting fired.

“I know your lunch break just started, so I’ll just get straight to it.” Grace had always been forward when she spoke. “There’s an opportunity with the Vancouver Canucks. Their management reached out about a summer cross-training program. They wanted us to coordinate it.”

I blinked at her, “And…?”

“And I told them you’d do it.”

As if my eyes couldn’t get any wider than it was. I stared at her in complete and utter disbelief, waiting for some sort of punchline. “You’re joking.”

Grace smiled, “Nope.”

I would have never imagined she’d say those words. This might be worse than getting fired.

There had been a few occasions when I had worked with soccer clubs, and a few college football players for cross-training. But, I had never done a session with the professional leagues such as the NHL. This was way different.

“Grace, I’m flattered but–” I thought about my words carefully, “I have a full schedule this summer and–”

“I am aware of your busy schedule,” she said, waving a hand. “I already adjusted your schedule accordingly to accommodate for this.”

Of course she did..

I opened my mouth, then closed it. This conversation was already headed towards the direction I dreaded. “There are other instructors here that I think are more qualified–who have worked in this studio for much longer that are more deserving for this job.”

Grace raised a brow at me, “Do you think I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were more than qualified?”

Shit. I had that coming. I basically dug that hole myself. 

I stayed silent for my own good, Grace knew she was right and she sighed. 

“They want you,” she said simply.

“What? Why?”

I answered a bit too quickly, unknowingly raising my voice an octave or two. I shift in my chair, clearing my throat having just panicked in front of my boss.

“Well, given that you have a good background on hockey, I thought you were perfect for the position. Not to mention that their head coach, Rick Tocchet, had also referred to you. And if it helps, it’s not the entire team you will train with. Just two of their players.” Her lips twitched as she leaned in her seat. “One of them being your brother.”

My stomach twisted. I should have seen this from a mile away. Why didn’t I make that connection instantly right when she said ‘Vancouver Canucks’?

After all, my older brother Simon was one of the top forwards for the team.

Although, he may be my family and I would do anything for him–I wouldn’t train him or anyone on his team for that matter. Hockey was Simon’s thing, and I had my own so we stayed out of each other’s lane. And we like to keep it that way.

Plus, I wasn’t all that into men that played hockey. They weren’t my go-to type. But, I would be lying to myself if I didn't think there were some head-turners, but nothing too crazy of the sort. I have never dated a hockey guy.

I blinked, tapping out of my short trance. My brain was processing the fact that I was going to spend all summer with my brother and his teammate. 

Which led me to another question for Grace. 

“So, if I’m training my brother–” I said, dragging out the last word. “–who is the other?”

She took a moment before she replied, “Quinn Hughes.”

That brought me to a full stop. What?

My eyes were nothing but bloodshot, “Quinn Hughes?” There was absolutely no hiding my distraught expression, even if I tried my hardest to contain it. “That’s asking for the impossible, Grace. It would take a miracle for those two to work together.”

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling.

Simon hated Quinn Hughes. I have spent the last few years listening to him ranting about how Quinn came in a year after he was drafted and ‘ruined’ everything–climbing the ranks, breaking franchise records as a defensemen, and taking the spotlight. 

I never truly understood the obsession. Simon had never acted this way growing up, especially towards another teammate. Now, he’s spent years resenting Quinn, blaming him for everything that has gone wrong in his career. I have asked multiple times specifically why he hated him so much, all I got was some half-assed answer.

And I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he seems alright.

“Your job is to make sure they don’t kill each other,” Grace continued. “I told Rick Tocchet you’d do it. And of course, you will be paid. More importantly, the Canucks’ are willing to invest in our studio. We’re growing and this would help fund more studios to expand, Sydney.”

Wow. It would be a great deal for Lumé Wellness now that I think about it. After adding the brand new Pilates reformers and more intensive sessions, our class attendances shot through the roof. The space in our studio was limited and we were growing in numbers as waitlists were piling up. 

What kind of Pilates instructor would I be if I didn’t want that for the studio?

I exhaled a sigh, “What about the media? They will be a problem–”

“We will handle it,” Grace cut me off. “After what happened last night, there’s no doubt that the press will track two of their star players’ moves throughout the summer. That’s why Rick, the Canuck’s team, and I will ensure that we will keep the training sessions on the down-low to prevent the media from talking.” 

That reassured me to an extent, but I was still skeptical. This was a bad idea.

It was easy to figure out why this arrangement was set in the first place. Those two, especially my brother, needed to stop acting like children and start acting like grown adults. Play like real professional hockey players. 

After the loss last night, it was only a matter of time when their team did something about it. I was surprised that it took them long enough. A few years ago, I wondered why they hadn't forced them to be stranded on an island together. Maybe surviving off an island together surely would have allowed them to work together at least.

The look in Grace’s eyes were telling me that there was no way out of this. Even if I came up with more excuses or tried to find a replacement, her (and apparently Rick Tocchet) mind was already made up.

I leaned back in my chair, my head was spinning in constant circles. “Is there any way for me to get out of this?”

“No.”

Damn. A complete shut down.

“Of course not,” I mumbled.

She gave me a knowing look, “Everything will be fine, that I can assure you, Sydney. Sessions will begin in two weeks.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed. Great.

I nodded my head as Grace dismissed me out of her office, gave her a small wave. I stepped out of the studio, took a deep breath trying to process what just happened in the last few minutes. I still couldn’t believe it.

My phone went off. Four missed calls and numerous text messages from Diane.

I called her back, and the second she picked up, she was already yelling. “Where the hell are you?”

A dull throb in my temple ached. “I got held up, I’ll be there in ten.”

“What happened?”

I sighed and began walking down the sidewalk. “You’re never going to believe me if I told you.”

The café was already packed by the time I got there, the low hum of conversation blending with the clinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine.

I spotted Diane almost immediately, she sat by the window, with a half-eaten bagel and small bits of crumbs on the table. She glanced up just as I approached her and instantly raised a brow.

“You’re late,” she said, pointing at me with her bagel in hand. “Again.”

“Sorry, I got held up.” I told her as I dropped into the chair across from her.

She playfully scoffed and held up her now empty cup, “Enough that I already finished one latte.” She smirked before setting it down. “Alright, spill. What was so important that you hung up on me and left me hanging here?”

“Grace.”

Diane’s eyes widened at that. She knew how rare it was for me–or anyone in the studio– to get caught up in Grace’s hair to get sent to her office. There were only good things I have told Diane about my boss over the years. Like the time she gave all the studio employees a gift certificate to the infamous spa in the north side of the city. It was generous of her, but it was quite expensive.

I took a deep breath before explaining to my friend of my new summer plans. Having to say it all out loud made me realize how real this was. It was going to happen and I wasn’t just dreaming in that office.

“Wait. I’m sorry, what?” Diane nearly choked on her coffee.

“Yep,” I popped the ‘p’, and nodded at her. “You heard me.”

For a split second, there was silence. 

Her face lit up accompanied with a squeal. Oh no. Here we go.

Diane’s expression was something between shock and excitement, “Syd, are you serious? That’s freaking nuts!” Unaware of her volume, she earned the glances of other customers in the café. We were both quick to give them apologetic nods. She leaned closer across the table, her voice quieter this time, “That’s huge, Syd!”

I scoffed, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Diane grinned, “Are you kidding? You get to train professional athletes. NHL players. Do you know how many people would kill for that opportunity?”

She was right. It’s not everyday that you get to work with athletes in the big leagues. Anyone in the studio could have easily taken this job and taken the news a lot more lightly and professionally than I did. But no, oddly enough I didn’t have any other choice or say in the decision.

I shook my head at her, slumping into my seat. “It’s not that simple.”

Diane tilted her head as if I grew another pair of eyes, “What’s not simple about that? You get to train with your brother and I don’t think that’s all too difficult, right? Shouldn’t it be easier since he is your brother?”

As much as I loved my brother, we liked keeping our lives separate from each other. He had his career, and I had mine. Not saying that I wasn’t proud of him or embarrassed that my brother was one of the hockey stars in the league. I was very proud that he achieved his dreams, why wouldn’t I be? I just liked supporting him from the sidelines. 

“Me and Simon are close but–” I paused, tracing the rim of my coffee cup with my finger. “We don’t mix our careers or get involved in each other’s business. Now, I’m being thrown right into it and it just…complicates things.”

Diane watched me carefully, “Is that really a bad thing?”

I hesitated before answering her. “I’ve never really been a part of his hockey world, this was totally unexpected. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows about it. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday before the game.” 

“Okay, so you’re only training your brother. Big deal. It’s not like you’re training with the whole team.” She waved a hand, acting like that was the only issue I was dealing with.

I shot her a look, I accidentally left out a big piece of information while explaining to her.

“And Quinn Hughes,” I added flatly.

Diane’s jaw dropped to the floor, “Wait–Quinn Hughes? As in, the captain of the team and the best defensemen in the league ‘Quinn Hughes’?”

As far as hockey goes for Diane, she had no interest in the sport, unless there was eye-candy on the team. When it came down to the NHL, the only names she was familiar with were the ‘good-looking’ guys, my brother, and Quinn Hughes. 

I nodded, then took a quick sip of my coffee, “Apparently, my job is to make sure they don’t kill each other during the summer.”

“Wow. That’s definitely…something.”

“Exactly.” I crossed my arms. “I barely know Quinn. But, Simon? He’s been going off about the guy for years. And now I’m supposed to train them. Together? That’s a shitshow waiting to happen.”

Diane shrugged her shoulders, looking at me thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity.”

My brow raised at that, “To do what? Watch my brother have a meltdown? Yeah, no thanks.” 

“But–”

I groaned, “Diane.”

She was teasing, and she never fails to get away with it. “I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. You’ll be challenged. You’ll make new connections. And–” She paused. “Who knows, this might just be the most interesting thing going for you right now since the accident–nevermind, sorry.”

Ouch. That stung.

But, Diane was right. As much as I’d like to think that my life was perfect and everything was going the right places, deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Ever since I got hurt and went through months of recovering, the course of direction my life was heading towards took a hard turn.

Now, I have ended up here. But, I wasn’t not grateful as things could have been worse, very worse. Over the years, I had to learn how to go with the flow and accept it.

I knew she didn’t mean to say that with bad intentions. Diane always wanted what was best for me, and I was glad that she felt that way since I would do the same with her. She was my longest friend for as long as I could remember.

She gave me an apologetic smile, “If anything, maybe your brother can introduce you to his teammates or–”

I playfully shook my head, then stood up with my empty cup in my hands. “I’m getting more coffee.”

She laughed, “Fine. But, I am not done talking about this.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder before heading over to the front counter. The café was even busier now, and I had to squeeze past a few people waiting for their orders. I handed my cup to the barista, tapping my fingers against the counter as I waited.

Diane’s words lingered in my head. Maybe this was a big opportunity, Maybe I was overreacting. But there was still that anxious feeling in my stomach, my subconscious telling me that I was not ready for this.

The barista handed me the the refilled cup, and I turned back towards our table–

Only to be met with a sudden, solid force.

The next thing I knew, the warmth of hot coffee spilled down the front of my hoodie. I sucked in a sharp breath as the heat seared against my skin right through the fabric. “Fuck!”

The impact rattled me, as I staggered back, barely managing to keep hold of the cup and maintaining my balance. I looked down at the damage, dark brown stains spread across the pale gray fabric.

I clenched my jaw. Just perfect. 

“Shit, I–”

I glanced up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my fucking mind and–

I froze. No, it can’t be.

Quinn fucking Hughes.

Stood right in front of me, low and behold, looked just as surprised as I did.

Up close, he was taller than I expected–maybe I was just short– lean but solid, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black hoodie effortlessly. His dark hair was slightly tousled under his hat; damp at the ends like he’d just finished practice or a workout, and completely blended with the crowd of people as if he wasn’t one of the biggest NHL players in the league.

I blinked, my brain lagging for a second. I’ve seen him on TV, many times before, in clips that Simon had angrily sent me after a few bad games, but seeing him up close was different. Very different.

He had his own unique attractiveness, I won’t lie. He had the light scruffy stubble around his jaw–sharp jawline, and piercing greenish blue eyes that made him look intense, but there was a softness in the way that he blinked at me, momentarily thrown off.

What was he doing here of all places?

He didn’t seem to realize that I wasn’t saying anything and ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh–” He hesitated, looking vaguely horrified at the sight of my hoodie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down despite the feeling of coffee soaking into my hoodie. “Yeah, no kidding.”

 He pulled a handful of napkins from the counter and offered them to me, “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took them from his grasp and attempted to clean the stain, knowing it wouldn’t do much but tried anyway. 

“I can buy you another one,” Quinn offered, nodding towards the counter. “Or, at least a new hoodie?

I shook my head, frustrated that the napkins were making my hoodie worse. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Oh shit. My eyes widened as soon as the words slipped from my mouth. 

That caught him off guard, and so had I.

Quinn’s expression lit up and brows furrowed instantly at that, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “So, you know who I am?”

“Yes, I do.” I said in a tone indicating that it wasn’t a good thing. 

He studied me for a moment. Probably thinking that I was a hockey fan or whatnot.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” He paused, scrambling to rephrase what his intentions were behind that question. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.”

He sounded pretty genuine and his intentions were nothing but pure, hopefully.

I gave him a look, “I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” I looked down at the mess. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours.”

As I was about to turn my back on him, his fingers found the material of my sleeve, and swiftly pulled me back. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” 

He only nodded, which amused me.

“I think I can survive without your help, but thanks.”

Quinn’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but thought the better of it before I turned around.

I felt his eyes linger on me as soon as I made my way back to Diane. She watched the whole thing and she looked like she was about to lose her damn mind once I sat down.

I glanced over my shoulder back to where Quinn stood. I was so lost in that interaction that I hadn’t noticed two other of his Canuck buddies were standing behind him. I watched them laughing–most likely teasing him–about what they witnessed. Great, that was just great.

“What the actual fuck just happened, Syd?” 

I wish I knew.

all rights reserved © 2025 hellvst. please do not copy, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[olderthannetfic]

Unhinged confession time: I used to functionally fake having a self-insert OC. Everyone insisted that all people had one and that no one actually didn't have one or picture themselves in the story they were writing. I got hit with a lot of "oh, so you're lying. you're lying because you're ~*~not like other girls~*~, right? you're soooo much better than us because you would never stoop to our level, right?" and eventually I just caved. I gave up. I wrote an OC with my name and hair color in an obligatory, barely-there relationship with the fandom bicycle. That fic hardly ever updated, usually once or twice a year when I was bored. It made people stop accusing me of being full of internalized misogyny and contempt for women.

I have never pictured myself in stories. I don't picture myself when I masturbate. I don't make myself in games with customization and clothing. I don't daydream about myself. I don't have any desire to fuck the fandom bicycle, who I think actually is really annoying and needs intense therapy before he'd even be able to say something that wasn't hiding behind irony or trite MCU style humor. I was blatantly, obviously way more interested in shipping someone else with an OC who does not share my ethnicity, gender, age, economic background or upbringing. But woman = self-insert so if you don't self-insert, you must be against women.

Eventually fandom drama went down and I quietly retreated to writing on a different account. Being attached to any of the shit-stirrers was murder on the comments' section in that it immediately became all about so-and-so and not, you know, the story. And yes, starting from zero means less comments overall, but I would rather have no comments than comments about drama I wasn't even involved in directly.

Other than when doing so was needed to stay in the good graces of BNF in the main fandom Discord server, I've never written a self-insert and I was very glad to never have to do so again. It's so fucking boring. But if you think that, you must have low self-esteem or internalized misogyny or think you're soooo much better than everyone. You must, deep down, want to write an OC just like you! For representation and escapism and empowerment! Because no one could ever enjoy digging into the headspace of someone different than them, obviously. We all like to imagine ourselves all the time, right?

No. I don't. I like creating characters. I don't want to remake me again and again and again and again. I didn't even draw myself in my drawings when I was three years old in preschool. I don't know why I'd be into it now. "It's relatable!" I don't need a character to be identical to me to relate to them! I can relate to a character who's very different from me, and that's not rare, or weird, or unusual! Every single person reading this can think of a character who's very different from them who they related to or felt for in some way.

I think selfshippers and self-insert OC writers get too much flack. I do. But I loathe the "everyone does it!" mentality used to defend it because it always ends up back at this point where everyone who doesn't stands by going, "No, actually, I don't. And pretending I do is boring as tar."

--

I once read some sexuality researchers the riot act for leaving this axis out of their study. Their response: "But the older research we're comparing to left it out, so we have to as well or the results won't line up in a useful way!"

Self inserting makes my skin crawl in a dysphoric way. This is common among AFAB m/m shippers I've known in particular, but I suspect it's plenty common in general.

[dearru]

do u guys know that one song by doja cat that goes “like fortnite ima need ur skin.” that’s what inspired this. hope u enjoy. | mlist

imagine you, an aspiring singer, starting to date the wildly influential streamer, kodzuken. you two are the definition of a picture perfect couple, and you start to make lots of content together. as a result, your career begins to take off, and kenma’s content grows in popularity,

everything’s great— until it isn’t. the relationship ends up crashing and burning in an embarrassingly public breakup.

people are devastated. video essays are made. diehard fans even claim the split is the equivalent of “parents divorcing.”

it’s a whole ordeal.

but as time passes, the wounds heal. and in true internet fashion, it becomes old news. some people still whisper about how they believe you two are soulmates, but for the most part, kenma’s chat and your comment section don’t get flooded with invasive questions about whether you two will get back together anymore.

fast forward to two years or so after the breakup, you and kenma end up growing in your respective careers. his several business ventures have grown exponentially, and you’re now selling out stadiums.

kenma doesn’t stream as much as he used to when you two were together, but he chalks it up to having to juggle so many different commitments now. fans speculate as to whether or not that’s the true reason, but as a collective, they agree that they’ll take whatever content they can get from the elusive creator.

despite not streaming as frequently, kenma still likes to indulge his audience every once in a while by hopping online. normally, he likes to decide what to play, but every once in a while, he’ll let chat decide.

tonight is one of those nights.

on a whim, he gives in to requests for him to boot up fortnite— an old favorite of his— for the first time in months.

big mistake.

the second he opens the once beloved game, he gets jumpscared by something that even his worst nightmares couldn’t have fathomed.

you.

everywhere.

to his horror, and the chat’s delight, he finds that you’ve become the poster child for fortnite’s newest campaign. your face is on the menu screen, banners of you flash in bright colors, and you’re plastered everywhere in the item shop.

they say men are constantly haunted by the ghost of their first love, and in a cruel twist of fate, it’s a saying that has become ironically true for kenma as he realizes that epic games has made you into a fucking skin.

he debates the consequences of throwing his pc into a wall, but his screen flashes with an overly excitable chat faster than he can make a decision. old fans are freaking out, new gen fans are wondering what all the fuss is about, and someone donates just to type “YOU’RE FUCKED.”

kenma has half the mind to laugh as the notification illuminates his face because he knows the donor is right.

he’s not an idiot. he knows that you’re popular now, but to be so famous that you have your own skin? he’s in absolute disbelief. there’s no way the universe hates him this much. it’s bad enough that you’re on every headline and radio station. now you’re in his favorite video game?!?!

he is so unbelievably, irrevocably fucked.

—a/n: i think that kenma’s viewers are evil and they all band together and emote on kenma with ur skin whenever they see him online.

—a/n #2: has anyone written abt this concept before. pls lmk. i would love to read it bc i giggled so hard when the thought popped in my head HAHAHA.

—a/n #3: guys i don’t play fortnite, watch streamers, or write for kenma at all so pls don’t hate on me ok thx love u

[charlieaboveandbeyond]

hear me out: OctoKids special episode

starring: Koshi, Pinto, Periwinkle, Orson and Ursa

I need the kids to have a spotlight for an episode. I need them to band together on an adventure and be pushed out of their comfort zone and essentially act as a mini version of the crew

It would be set primarily in somewhere like the Himalaya Mountains - huge environment, massive species diversity, lots of potential for a special episode

"Hey, Koshi, do you reckon you could fly the OctoRay?"

"Uh, no?"

"But your sister can! And it can't be that hard, right?! :D"

"Pinto, I'm not - "

"Didn't Donna Doxi fly a plane once?"

"..."

They indeed tried to fly the OctoRay.

This did not go well.

SO. Now the kids are stuck in the Himalaya Mountains with no OctoRay and damaged OctoWatches. I'm picturing Koshi & Pinto taking the lead, as the two Junior OctoAgents of the group - they lowkey give off Barnacles & Kwazii vibes (caring confident leader & daredevil lieutenant) and I'm here for it.

Between them, I'd reckon they'd have quite a good knowledge of survival skills: Koshi & Pinto have OctoAgent training, Periwinkle goes to Otter Scouts, and Orson and Ursa are Polar Bear Scouts. They can survive in the wild until they're rescued, right?

(Meanwhile, back on the Octopod)

("Captain, it appears the OctoRay has gone rogue")

("Hey, Captain, have you seen Pinto?")

("Actually, that's a good point, Peso, I haven't seen Periwinkle for a while")

("Let me ask Koshi, I'm sure she'll know, they were playing hide and seek together the last time I checked")

("Anything?")

("Would you like the good news or the bad news, Captain?")

("Uh...")

("The good news is that all the kids are together. Koshi, Pinto, Peri, Orson and Ursa.")

("...what's the bad news?")

("They took the OctoRay and it crash-landed somewhere in the Himalayas.")

("the F [censored because it's a kids' show]?!")

Back to the Himalayas!

I think this episode would be focused on the kids employing their shared skillset to survive out in the wild.

Do they encounter tigers? Absolutely.

Do the tigers think they're food? Also absolutely.

What I would especially love to see in an episode like this, in terms of character arcs:

Koshi becoming the de-facto leader. She's been shown in A&B to almost mimic some of Barnacles' mannerisms, her sister is the captain of the OctoRay, she spends a LOT of time around people in leader roles and it's bound to rub off on her. Whilst I'd love for some Donna Doxi references, I'd almost want her to not slip into her mystery-solving mode? This time, SHE'S the mystery, SHE'S the one who's lost, and she has her friends to look after and I think she'd do a great job.

(But because it would be a special-length episode, there's almost certainly a side plot for the gang to help a nearby creature with something - a missing friend, perhaps?)

Also, Pinto gets some great character development in A&B, and it would be reflected in this special. Peri, Orson & Ursa are younger than him and Koshi, and whilst their own skillsets are invaluable, I think they're more likely to be thrown off by this new situation? Pinto would be an AMAZING older brother figure to them, keeping them distracted with fun activities and games whilst keeping an eye on them.

Also. Koshi telling them all stories around a campfire. That's it, that's the whole scene.

I'm gonna be honest this sounded way better in my head, but I had to share what I had with the world, so ya, let me know what you think :D

[interact-if]

Our sixth and final edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Imani (@themuse-if)!

If you enjoyed this, do keep your eyes peeled for future events!

(I’m so glad I got to know Imani — and The Muse — so a big thank you for taking the time! I have a soft spot for slice-of-life / coming of age games, and I certainly related to the past about using IFs to live out alternate-life fantasies…)

Author: Imani

Hey! Imani here! Something that readers may not know about me is that I sell vintage clothes for a living. I’m really passionate about sustainable fashion, and while I could hop on my soapbox and talk about the evils of fast fashion, I’ll choose not to bore you all. To jump off of that point, growing up I watched a lot of films and tv shows, and I was always drawn to how fashion and costume design could really add to those stories. If you ever wonder why I’m always creating visuals for my IF it’s because it really helps me to picture the characters in each scene that I’m writing and make them feel more tangible.

Games: The Muse (slice of life, romance, school life, university life)

Short blurb: You come from a family of artists and art lovers. Your mother is a passionate curator for a small gallery in the city and your father is a sculptor and painter with a very dedicated cult following. They met when they were just starting out and have built a lovely life for themselves and their two children, you and your older brother Cameron. Your parents have always been super supportive of you and your brother’s dreams and ambitions. They were a great source of encouragement and guidance for your brother on his path to discovering his goal to become a game designer and you on your path to become whatever you choose. Growing up surrounded by such creativity just so happened to inspired you to want to create something of your own. Now that you’ve graduated high school it’s time for you to head off to university! You’ve decided to leave the mid sized city that you call your hometown, and go to the big city NYC! You’ll be attending NYU more specifically, but you won’t be making this move alone you’ll be attending with your best friend Maxine!

Quote from the interview

In December of 2023 I sort of stumbled into the world of Interactive Fiction. I had plenty of experience with more narrative based games, but they all had a visual element, and usually didn’t really have a lot of freedom in building your own character. After reading a few IFs, and loving the amount of control that I had on the narrative as the reader, I was hooked. Not too long after I started conceptualizing what is now The Muse. Working on this project during my slump really gave me a sense of purpose and made my day to day feel much less grim.

Read on for the full interview!

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

So long story short I quit my pretty run of the mill job in August of 2024 and I wasn’t able to find something else until September of 2024. As you can imagine I was pretty depressed. I ran through my savings and it was really tough having to rely on my partner so much.

In December of 2023 I sort of stumbled into the world of Interactive Fiction. I had plenty of experience with more narrative based games, but they all had a visual element, and usually didn’t really have a lot of freedom in building your own character. After reading a few IFs, and loving the amount of control that I had on the narrative as the reader, I was hooked. Not too long after I started conceptualizing what is now The Muse. Working on this project during my slump really gave me a sense of purpose and made my day to day feel much less grim.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

I grew up in a household that really appreciated the arts. Music, dance, theatre, studio art, I had a little taste of it all. My older sister (much older, we have a 13 year age gap) graduated from an arts high school and then went on to study studio arts in graphic design in university. I always really looked up to her because she was honestly just so cool. She could sing, dance, act, paint, she even played the clarinet for a while. I on the other hand mostly focused on dance from the time I was three until my senior year of high school when I quit. It’s kind of silly dance that I quit right before the start of my last year in high school when I would be transferring to my sister’s alma mater. I think I just felt a little stifled by dance and I didn’t see it as my main priority.

Starting in middle school I had a few English teachers that really got me more into reading and writing and so when this new opportunity came I chose to study theatre instead so that I could take the playwriting and creative writing courses. After graduating I just went to a normal state school and I always wondered what my university experience would have been like if I had gone to an arts university instead. I’m definitely using The Muse to live out all of my art school fantasies.

What’re you excited to tackle/implement/work on next? Or anything you’re looking forward to in the year ahead?

I’m not gonna lie to you, coding is not my strong suit so just getting the prologue complete was a big hurdle in itself. I am super excited to be moving on to the main story though! The characters that I’ve created are all very near and dear to me since each of them have little similarities to me. I can’t wait to properly introduce them all in game.

Another thing that I’m really excited about is collaborating with readers. I really love the input you all bring to the table and learning about some of your MCs and how you all are crafting your own journeys. I’m hoping to get through Book 1- The Muse: Just Getting Started by the end of the year, and that would include both freshman and sophomore year. Fingers crossed!

Do you have favourite interactive fiction games, characters, scenes or authors that you’d like to recommend?

I’m currently waiting with baited breath for the next chapter of Infamous, and I know I’m definitely not the only one. Don’t ask me who I’m romancing though, I haven’t made my final decision yet. (It’ll probably be Orion though he’s just so…you know.)

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

Felicity, Dance Academy, Center Stage, Skins UK, Fame (the show). These are more like forever obsessions/inspirations that really inspired the vibe for this IF. If you haven’t watched Felicity I highly recommend it, honestly the characters are really frustrating but it’s just so good, trust me.

This-or-that segment: (red = Imani's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Write your own “either-or” pairing: movies or books? (I actually can’t choose, unless we’re talking about books turned into movies. The book 9/10 is usually going to be better.)

[talenlee]

Life With Generative Tools

In 2023, back when my posts were still being shared to Twitter because the API wasn’t paid-only, I wrote an article about the potential ramifications of generative art media going forward. My concern in the immediate was that the tools weren’t going to go away, but also the potential harm to artists was as much about general economic precarity and not people using fanart to make their D&D characters. I further added to this with a consideration of how I wanted to avoid using generative art in my game development because I didn’t want what people would say about it. That is, a social pressure about the art is what keeps me from using it, not a personal philosophical disposition. I’m an artist who already works with collage and constraints, this feels like a handy way to have something I can play with.

Well, it’s been a year and change and a sort of AI Art Apocalypse has happened, and if you’re not aware of it, it’s because you’re someone who avoids all of the pools that have been so thoroughly pissed in that they are now just piss. If you’re at all related to any part of the internet where people share a bunch of images – which is to say a lot of social media – then you’re already dealing with the place crawling with generative images. Whether it’s a fanart booru, or big sites like facebook and twitter, or god help you deviantart, there is a pretty clear sign that anywhere that opened the door to generative art became a space overwhelmingly for generative art.

I teach about this subject now and I have had some time with it in a situation away from the internet, and I’d like to give you some insights into what this stuff is for, what it does, why you shouldn’t use it, and ways it can be useful.

Content Warning: I’m going to be talking about these tools as tools that exist and leaving the philosophical/ethical arguments about ‘art theft’ and their genesis aside. I’m not including any examples. No shrimp jesus jumpscare.

You might notice I’m saying ‘generative art’ and not ‘AI art.’ Part of this is because I don’t want to buy into the idea that these tools are ‘artificial intelligence.’ Ironically, ‘AI art’ now has less of an implication of being ‘Artificial Intelligence’ and is much more of an implication of ‘it’s ugly shiny art of shrimp jesus with badly spelled signs.’

I want to focus for this conversation on generative graphical tools, and I want to do that because I don’t have much experience with the other types. The textual generators offer me something I don’t really need? I already make a ton of words of dubious quality. Those are actually the things that concern me because their natural aesthetic is authoritive and comprehensive and that’s why it’s a problem that they’re being used to present any old nonsense that may just be straight up wrong. I don’t use those tools and I avoid the platforms that use them so I’m not familiar with them.

Things Generative Art Is Good For

I already use art I don’t own, a lot, for playing. Every day for the past three years I’ve shared a custom Magic: The Gathering playing card, a game I don’t own the rights to, using a card face I don’t own the rights to, and artwork from an artist on Artstation whose artwork I did not pay for or even ask for. This is generally seen as a totally reasonable and acceptable form of playful, transformative media generation and I at no point pretend I have any rights to the material. If I take a picture of someone famous and put a speech bubble over their mouth saying ‘I drink farts,’ if I, as tumblr says, play with jpgs like dolls, that is by no means being done with rights and permission.

Which means we’re already aware that there’s a way of playing with images that both violates copyright but is generally okay to do.

The metric I use for this is if the thing you’re using generative art for doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t matter. If you’re not going to try and claim money, if you’re not going to put it on a marketplace, if you aren’t going to try and claim ownership and profit off generative material, I think you’re probably fine. I mean probably, if you’re using it to say, generate revenge porn of a classmate that’s an asshole move, but the thing is that’s a bad thing regardless of the tool you’re using. If you’re using it to bulk flood a space, like how Deviantart is full of accounts with tens of thousands of pictures made in a week, then that’s an asshole move because, again, it’s an asshole move regardless of the tool.

If you’re a roleplayer and you want a picture of your Dragonborn dude with glasses and a mohawk? That’s fine, you’re using it to give your imagination a pump, you’re using it to help your friends visualise what matters to you about your stuff. That’s fine! It’s not like you’re not making artistic choices when you do this, cycling through choices and seeing the one that works best for you. That’s not an action deprived of artistic choice!

There are also some things that are being labelled as ‘AI’ which seem to be more like something else to me. Particularly, there are software packages that resize images now, which are often calling it ‘AI upscaling,’ which it may be using some variety of these Midjourney style models to work, but which serves a purpose similar to sequences of resizes and selective blurs. There are also tools that can do things like remove people from the background of images, which is… good? It should be good and easy to get people out of pictures they didn’t consent to be in.

Things Generative Art Is Bad For

Did you know you don’t own copyright on generated art? This is pretty well established. If you generated the image, it’s not yours, because you didn’t make it. It was made by an algorithm, and algorithms aren’t people. This isn’t a complicated issue, this just means that straight up, any art you make at work that’s meant to be used for work, shouldn’t be used because people can just straight up use it. Logo design, branding, all that stuff is just immediately open for bootlegging or worse, impersonation.

Now you might think that’s a bit of a strange thing to bring up but remember, I’m dealing with students a lot. Students who want to position themselves as future prompt engineers or social media managers need to understand full well that whatever they make with these tools are not things that will have an enduring useful application. Maybe you can use it for a meme you post on an account, but it’s not something you can build branding off, because you don’t own it. Everyone owns it.

From that we get a secondary problem, because if you didn’t own it, its only use is what people say or think when they look at it, and thing is, people are already sick and tired of the aesthetics of generated art. You’re going to get people who don’t care glossing over it, and people who do care hating it. Generative art as a way of presenting your business or foregrounding your ‘vibes’ are going to think that your work is, primarily, ‘more AI art’ and not about what it’s trying to communicate. When the internet is already full of Slop, if you use these tools to represent your work, you are going to be turning your own work and media presence into slop.

What’s more, you need to be good at seeing mistakes if you’re using these tools. If you put some art out there that’s got an extra thumb or someone’s not holding a sword right, people will notice. That means you need to start developing the toolset above for fine-tuning and redrawing sections of artwork. Now, that’s not a bad thing! That’s a skill you can develop! But it means that the primary draw of these tools is going to be something that you then have to do your own original work over the top of.

The biggest reason though I recommend students not treat this work like it’s a simple tool for universal application is that it devalues you as a worker. If you’re trying to get hired for a job at a company and you can show them a bunch of generative art you’ve made to convince them that you’re available, all you are really telling them is that you can be replaced by a small script that someone else can make. Your prompts are not unique enough, your use of the tool not refined enough that you can’t just be replaced by anyone else who gets paid less. You are trying to sell yourself as a product to employers, and generative art replaces what you bring with what everyone brings.

They make you lazy! People include typos in the generative media because they’re not even looking at them or caring about what they say! And that brings me to the next point that there are just things these tools don’t do a good job doing, and that’s stuff I want to address next in…

Things That Are Interesting

Because the tools of generative art create a very impressive-seeming artistic output, they are doing it in a way that people want to accept. They want to accept them and that means accepting the problems, or finding a way to be okay with those problems. People who don’t care that much about typos and weird fingers and so on, because you know, it gets me a lot of what I want, but it doesn’t get me everything, and I don’t know how to get the everything.

If you generate an image and want to move something in it a little bit, your best way to do that is to edit the image directly. Telling the software to do that, again, but change this bit, this much, is in fact really hard because it doesn’t know what those parts are. It doesn’t have an idea of where they are, it’s all running on an alien understanding of nightmare horror imagery.

What that means is that people start to negotiate with themselves about what they want, getting to ‘good enough’ and learning how to negotiate with the software. My experiments with these tools led to me making a spreadsheet so I could isolate the terms I use that cause problems, and sometimes those results are very, very funny. In this, the tool teaches you how to use it (which most tools do), but the teaching results in a use that is wildly inappropriate to what the tool promises it’s for.

One of my earliest experiments was to take four passages from One Stone that described a character and just put that text straight into midjourney to see what it generated based on that plain text description. Turns out? Nothing like what I wanted. But when I treated it like say, I was searching for a set of tags on a booru system like danbooru or safebooru… then it was pretty good at that. Which is what brings me to the next stage of things, which is like…

These things were trained on porn sites right?

Like, you can take some very specific tags from some of the larger boorus and type them into these prompt sites and get a very reasonable representation of what it is you asked for, even if that term is a part of an idiolect, a term that’s specific to that one person in one space that’s become a repeated form of tag. Just type in an artist name and see if it can replicate their style and then check to see what kind of art that artist makes a lot of. This is why you can get a thing that can give you police batons and mirrored sunglasses just fine but if you ask for ‘police uniform’ you get some truly Tom of Finland kind of bulging stuff.

Conclusion

Nobody who dislikes generative art is wrong. I think there are definitely uses of it that are flat out bad, and I think it’s totally okay and even good to say so. Make fun of people who are using it, mock the shrimp jesuses, make it very clear you’re aware of what’s going on and why. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I do think that these tools are useful as toys, and I think that examining the art that they produce, and the art that the community around them are exalting and venerating tells us stuff. Of course, what they tell us is that there are a lot of people out there who really want porn, and there are just as many people who want the legitimisation of impressive seeming images that they don’t care about what those images are doing or what they’re for.

Now part of this defensiveness is also the risk of me being bitten. If I buy stock art that isn’t correctly disclosed as being generative art, then I might make and sell something using generative art and now I look like an asshole for not being properly good at detecting and hating ‘AI art,’ and when I’ve say, made a game using generative art that then is integrated into things like worldbuilding and the card faces, then it gets a lot harder to tear it out at the roots and render myself properly morally clean. I’m sure a bunch of the stock art I used before 2020 was made algorithmically, just pumped out slop that was reprocessing other formula or technical objects to fill up a free stock art site like Freepik.

Which is full of generative art now.

You won’t hurt yourself by understanding these things, and people who are using them for fun or to learn or explore are by no means doing something morally ill. There are every good reason to keep these things separated from anything that involves presenting yourself seriously, or using them to make money, though. If nothing else, people will look at you and go ‘oh, you’re one of those shrimp jesus assholes.’

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[pezinvests]

clinical trial spoilers because there is somewhat of a following now here on tumblr and i want to make my mark. long opinion post. if you're reading through the tag and haven't played, please play the game to the end first i beg of you

so obsessed with how limited our true knowledge is of lee. for what we all know lee has done this kind of thing before and how he just might be more dangerous than he seems. a man in his 20s who got his nursing license during the bush administration (2007-2008ish), ex-mormon/ex-christian/ex-catholic with a slightly strange upbringing and carries himself so seriously and does things so meticulously.

in the bedroom scene he says he just moved out a year ago into a house full of hand-me-downs and old stuff he has kept forever, followed with him saying "a lot of stuff in my life doesn't make sense."

man. that is by far the most vague yet perhaps suspicious thing you could say if you were in his shoes. of course, some have speculated this is just him having some form of autism (in which i welcome this theory and would make sense), but i do think he has just done this type of thing before.

of course, he has fantasized about dying in those hidden walls and has dreamt of studying heavily on orthopedia and pursuing this as his career path, this is canon. maybe in general has studied these kinds of ideas of murder, torture, etc. that relates to it as well.

however he was covering up everything so well by driving brandon's car in a lake. (and hopefully covering whatever tracks he made after driving into the ditch like footprints and maybe tiretracks of his own car to leave the scene??? he seemed to have thought so far ahead to bury his body anyway in there because no one will come looking so. there's also that animation from the dev themselves on twitter that show how angel & lee disposed of brandon. my god. it's so meticulous and careful)

he was also quick thinking on his feet getting a signal jammer to block angel's cellphone from pinging nearby towers. he was only so lucky that their phone died on the way to his house and probably was able to set up the cell jammer before he brought in groceries.

or worse yet, he already had a signal jammer with him. like he just had one already and he set that up really fast before he could even get a charger for angel. lee never mentioned the full circumstances of him having it and when he set it up. he just said he was lucky that angel's phone died on the way there. him being so vague as well as the game not telling us much on that front really sells it.

i get that we don't really see angel's day-to-day life outside of the clinic either (minus the home scenes where you see their art posts and texts on their phone) + it's an RPGMAKER game, can't be that detailed, so we don't usually see what happens in between those times anyway (masterful story technique i must say). but it really leans into the idea that whatever lee says, we really just have to take his word for it now especially with the amount of things he tried to hide.

looking at the bigger picture, yes, lee's actions are inexcusable and disgusting, who would trust someone like this afterwards? and that really rings true throughout the entire game's story. angel giving lee a third chance really is an act of mercy from a god. hell, them walking away on ending 1 was also merciful, especially at their expense if the authorities don't believe angel as to what happened.

so uhh. main takeaway? i love the way lee was written. i'm so glad homie went full send on his character being a little bit of a pathetic creep (lmao the cum-stained jacket being fully written in, really sold it for me) and on purpose him being very vague about his true nature. it plays on the idea that "when someone says who they are, believe them". we have the same amount of info angel has as the player and through it all? we just have to take lee's word for everything.

[harruandlou]

Happy 28th!! I read a bit less this month (and A LOT in another fandom) but still enough to get a good list together! Rereads are marked with a *

all the sins you didn't have by brooklyn_babylon / @twopoppies (99k)

It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron. Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake. Harry strikes him and his gigantic ego off the list immediately… At least until they realize they have a common set of enemies and a common goal: revenge. Though their ruse starts smoothly enough, the decadent freedom of Belle Époque Paris gives way to the rigid social rules of aristocratic Victorian London. Can a relationship that started as a calculated deception withstand the harsh realities of societal expectations and family duty to become a love more honest and profound than either has ever known?

*lemon eyes by turnyourankle / @turnyourankle (50k)

It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way. And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?

*devil town by kingsoftheimpossible / @robertwire (50k)

“Mmm,” Louis hums, tipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “You know what I reckon all the baseball games you’ve seen have in common?” Harry rocks on his heels, uncertain, drifting. If it were daylight, if he could see Louis’ face, maybe he’d see where this was going. As it is, he hazards a guess, smiling beseechingly even though Louis probably can’t see him very well. “That I didn’t know what was going on?” “I reckon,” Louis says, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ashes to the ground, “you only ever paid attention to baseball when it involved paying attention to me.”

*bloodsport by tofiveohfive / @clancysletter (40k)

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—” Louis stops when he hears a chuckle. He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation. “‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

*Ready to Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?” “I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.” “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth – “A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!” “To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

too young by jaerie / @jaerie (18k)

“Do you think it hurts to get a bond mark?” Louis asked one day. Harry shrugged. “We could bite each other to see what it feels like?” “Yeah, I want to know,” Louis nodded as he pushed himself back and forth on the swing just enough that his feet never left the ground. “Do you?” Or accidentally bonded as 8 and 10 year olds, Louis starts resenting Harry once they were old enough for him to realize what had been taken away from him and now they're roommates who fuck out of obligation

*don't have to go to the pool by kingsoftheimpossible / @robertwire (12k)

Louis is the captain of the swim team, Harry is in love with him a bit, and there's this ritual before Big Meets. Everything goes fine. alternative summary: a suspicious lack of swimming for a story involving a swim team.

Where You Hiding, Dream Girl? by quickedweed / @becomeawendybird (3k)

Niall invites all his friends over to help him get ready for his epic proposal-turned-surprise-party, but everything goes sideways when his girlfriend Emily comes home too early. Louis can't believe he's making them all hide, but she's just glad she didn't have to wait outside in the cold like they originally planned. She's even more forgiving when she ends up in a compromising hiding position with Emily's friend Harry.

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome to Summer Friday in the Chill Valicer Save, everyone -- otherwise known as THE VALICER WEDDING UPDATE! Which is so massive at ninety pictures that I had to take advantage of the fact that I'm now on the new post editor and can upload more than ten pictures at a time to a post. ^^; So you're only getting hit with six posts today instead of nine (that works out to fifteen pictures a post, if you're curious). You're welcome. :p

So, let's get started with -- farm chores! Yes, it may have been Victor and Smiler's wedding day, with bonus Victor and Alice vow renewal, but that doesn't mean they got a day off from their usual activities around the farm. So this is how they spent their morning prior to the big event:

-->Victor started off his day by taking a turn to feed the chickens, then got sent to make some more eco upgrade parts -- and I guess the fabricator actually likes him now, because it didn't try to attack him ONCE. I guess I'm glad, since he needs the eco upgrade parts (especially since I discovered that you CANNOT Copypasto them while he was feeding the chickens), but I do kinda miss dye-sprayed Victor from that one alternate timeline. Maybe one day in the future! :p Anyway, Shadow wandered in while he was finishing up said parts, and I discovered to my delight that they could become companions -- I promptly had them do so, then had Victor take Shadow out for an early-morning jog (discovering in the process that the community garden area has these mysterious blue lights hovering around the trees when it's dark! I don't know if my screenshot did it justice, but it was pretty cool :D).

-->Alice went right back to writing her latest book, "Vorpal Rhymes" -- if she's gonna be an official Bestselling Author aspiration-wise, she's gotta keep the books coming! This proved to be a little difficult, though, simply because Guidry kept coming in to chat and distract her. *sigh* Dude, I don't know why you keep trying to talk to her, you guys don't really vibe well. As shown when, upon finishing her book and finding herself needing a bath, she chose to transform into her werewolf form to lick herself clean, and Guidry immediately got all scared and annoyed with her for doing so. Sir -- sir, you are a ghost. A ghost with a storied history of being a paranormal investigator if we believe your in-game backstory! You should be at least somewhat used to this! *shakehead* Don't let him get you down, Alice -- I think your beast form is pretty neat.

-->Smiler probably had the easiest morning out of the three to start, just recycling a bunch of trash piles before heading to their robot bench to make more chatterbots and a computer chip for future robot upgrades. However, as they were finishing up that, I happened to look over at the chicken coop and noticed it was REEKING. O.o How did that happen? I promptly had them give it a scrub and dump some more feed out there for the chickens, since we do have a full coop. Always something when you live on a working farm!

[evansbby]

𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝟒 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 + 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙨

[trappedinafantasy37]

We did it guys! Minthara is in the top 100 most mentioned video game characters on Tumblr, sitting comfortably at rank 55!

With Astarion at rank 1 (cause of course), Gale at 5, Shadowheart at 6, Karlach at 8, Lae'zel at 9, Wyll at 12, Halsin at 16, Tav at 19, Gortash at 47, and The Dark Urge at 67. Baldur's Gate 3 is also the most talked about video game on this platform, as well as the 6th most talked about thing on all of Tumblr!

I wish Minthara was higher, but you know what, I'm happy she's on there at all! It is also interesting that she ranks higher than Durge and that Durge is that low on the list. It's also pretty interesting that there is such a discrepancy between Durge and Gortash as Durgetash is also the 67th most talked about ship on the platform. It is quite an achievement that our favorite drow is even on that list at all.

It is all just making me think back to some of the more dejecting AO3 statistics with Minthara almost being a blip, practically a statistical outlier in some ways. Even some insignificant side characters got more attention and adoration than her, or had numbers that would compare to her. But Tumblr is a much bigger platform than AO3, containing a much wider array of topics (including fanfics). So for Baldur's Gate 3 and Minthara to stand out that much is really saying something! Reading these statistics on Tumblr does go to show that one platform does not represent the entire fandom and that AO3 is only a piece of the picture.

[cate-geo]

"I've seen you drink tea before."

"Yeah, I thought I had to. I put a ton of sugar in and tried to like it. I've realized since that's not necessary."

"Yesterday you reblogged a picture of latte art."

"I know, I thought it looked nice. I'm not gonna drink it though. Honestly drinking it would ruin the art and I can't look at it anymore."

"You played tea parties as a kid."

"Yeah I played imaginary games a lot as a kid based on what I saw from my peers, mentors, and media. I also played like I could shoot fire from my hands, and yet I can't actually shoot fire from my hands."

"You were drinking tea yesterday."

"Yeah. There is one tea I like under very certain circumstances, and I still barely drink it. My experience with tea is still very different from the average tea drinker."

"I really don't like tea."

"Come on! Just try it!"

"I don't want tea."

"Just one sip?"

"No."

"Why don't you like tea? Everyone likes tea!"

"Not me."

"Do you like coffee instead?"

"No."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Apparently, me not liking tea is what's wrong with me."

"How do you even know you don't like tea? You've never tried it!"

"I've smelled it. It smells bad. I don't like or want tea."

"You're weird."

"No, you're weird for trying so hard to make me like tea. It's not really your business anyway if I like tea or not."

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )