#i think so often about if the no good parts of you and me we hide by standing back to back

[sammakesart]

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought. 

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game. 

Alas, no. 

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative. 

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did. 

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[ripeandsoft]

Hi Monae how are you babes? Can I request for terry and his wife having sex for the first time since their baby was born and she was trying to cover up her post baby body after having her baby.

🥺

A/n: I’m good baby! I’m so sorry this took so long, me and my brain weren’t friends lol. Please accept this as an early Christmas gift and apology! I hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Content warnings: mentions of postpartum insecurity, gentle sex?, oral, a spank or two (i couldn’t help it), mirror sex, fluffy sweetness all around, also barely proofread oops

—

“Diapers, bottles, bibs, pacifiers…” You paced around the nursery as you packed your daughter Josie’s diaper bag. She was laying in her crib, fresh from the bath and drifting off to sleep under the musical chime of her mobile. Terry was quiet as he ambled up the stairs with extra clean bottles and formula. The shadow of you flitting around her room like a mad woman on the hallway wall made Terry laugh. This was Josie’s first time being away from you guys for two whole nights and your nerves were through the roof.

“Calm down baby, you know my mama will take good care of her” Terry sat the bottles and formula on the dresser next to her bag, coming up behind you to rub his hands soothingly down your arms. You leaned back into him and you closed your eyes to take a deep breath. You couldn’t help but be anxious. This was the longest you’d be away from your baby since she was born. You knew Mrs. Richmond wouldn’t let a curl on Josie’s head be touched but your nerves were still crackling with anxiety.

“I know, ‘m just nervous” Your words were hushed as you turned to loop your arms around his waist. “I’m glad we’ll have some alone time. Maybe even get some good sleep, give the baby monitor a rest for the weekend” Terry rocked the both of you back and forth in his embrace. You hummed against him, the warmth of his body against yours making your eyes close in comfort.

Soft gurgles spilled from Josie’s mouth as she shifted positions in her crib, her noises causing you and Terry to separate. “I’ll finish packing up here. You go start the car.” You ordered Terry gently with point of your finger. He nodded dutifully, giving both you and Josie a soft kiss on the cheek.

—

“I’ll miss you babygirl” You cooed at Josie, rubbing her chubby cheek with your thumb. She nuzzled against the contact while she smiled with all her gums. “Y’all better get out of here so I can spend time with my baby” Mrs. Richmond started to usher you and Terry out the door, eager to spend time with her granddaughter. “Can’t we say bye?” Terry asked.

“No you can’t. Now get before them roads get bad.” Mrs. Richmond nodded to the window, swirls of flurries falling outside.

—

It felt weird to be in your bathroom alone. When Josie is fussy but you need to shower you bring her with you, letting her rest in her bouncer while you clean up. Terry often joins you when you’re doing your hair or taking off your makeup. You were never really alone these days, not since Josie was born. Even when she’s not with you physically her presence crackles through the baby monitor seemingly attached to your hand. You’d heard of women who become so consumed with their families that they lose themselves, but that isn’t happening to you.

Right?

All you could think about was a hot shower. Your clothes were strewn across the floor, a fabric trail leading to you standing at the sink. You pulled your braids up into a ponytail before wrapping it up in a fat bun. The counter was cold as you bent down to rest your elbows on it, filling your palms with water so you could wash your face. Before you could reach for the cleanser, your husband slid his hands around your hips.

“Can I help you sir?” You asked him through the mirror, water dripping down your neck to your chest. “Mhm, you sure can” Terry’s voice rumbling low in your ears. His strong hands rubbed over all your soft parts—stomach, hips, thighs, tits, ass. You sighed at the feeling, leaning back into him. But before you can get lost in your man, the quiet part of your mind speaks up.

You’ve never been a stranger to stretch marks, cellulite, dimples, pimples, or moles. All these things came with your figure and you had come to love them. Growing your babygirl gave you immense pride in your body and you wouldn’t trade your pregnancy experience for the world. Being a mother was wonderful journey but every journey has its ups and downs, and these postpartum stages were mostly down. The things you once loved about your body have become insecurities.

“I need to take a shower” You pressed yourself into the sink to create space between you two. “Can I join you?” Terry asks. You avoid his hand reaching for you, side stepping him and going to stand by the shower. “No, thank you baby but I got this one by myself” Your lips quirk up in an awkward smile, your hands shielding your breast and stomach from his watching eyes.

Terry frowned, the crease in the middle of his brows growing deeper as he examined your behavior. You never shy away from his touch whether it’s sexual or not. You’ve been somewhat avoidant recently. Not necessarily detached or distant but just…not the same. It was strange.

“Go lay down” Terry instructs, nodding towards the bedroom. Your mouth opened to retort but the look in Terry’s eyes made the words seep into your tongue. You obeyed wordlessly, feelings his eyes follow your every movement.

—

“Don’t look away” Terry spoke against you, mouth full of your wet pussy. His head could be seen from between your cheeks, the mirror that normally leaned on your bedroom wall now closer to the bed propped on its thin stand. Your eyes watered in pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clenching hole. The silver band of your wedding ring dug into your skin as you held onto the sheets tight.

His lips were soft against you, vibrating with his own moans as he feasted on you. “Terry baby ‘m gonna mmm fuck come” You started to grind against his face, beard tickling your mound. “I know” His words were muffled as he pulled your hips back against his face. The room around you blurred into nothing as your eyes rolled back, orgasm rolling through you with fury.

The sheets were soft on your hard nipples, the added stimulation making you cry out. You pulled yourself away from him weakly only to be pulled back. “Where you going?” He questioned. The spank Terry placed on your right ass cheek had you jolting away from him, which made him wrap his hand around the back of your neck. “Tell me where you going girl” Terry’s voice echoed in your head as you tried to focus. “Nowhere, I promise” You head shook back and forth wildly, braids falling from your bun.

Terry rubbed soothing circle on your now red ass cheek, giving you a moment to calm down. You started to bounce back on Terry’s bulge, your stickiness making his hard dick shine in the light of your bedroom. “Oh you want it now?” He teased. His hand came to hold your hips steady as he started to do the work for you. His swollen tip nudged against your clit just right, bubbles of precum decorating your flesh. You reached back to grab his dick, tired of being empty.

You fell into an arch as he found his home in your pussy. Your walls pulsated around him as if to say “welcome home.”

“Tight ass fucking pussy” He grunted from behind you, his balls resting against your clit as he bottomed out. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt his balls start to throb. He fed you slow, deep thrusts, the slap of his thighs on yours filling the room. Goosebumps rushed over your skin with movement.

He hit all your spots with expert precision, catching your hand when you reached back to press it on his stomach. “No ma’am, this what you wanted. Be still and let me work my pussy open” He spoke, head thrown back and eyes closed. Your mind went numb with pleasure. The fat of your thighs started to jiggle as you shook, mouth open in silent moans. Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs.

“Let me tell you something” Terry wrapped a hand in your now messy hair, pulling to get you to look at him through the mirror. “Don’t you ever hide this body from me. This body carried my baby and I’ll be damned if you shamed of it” He punctuated his words with sharper thrusts making you squeal. “Tell me you’re beautiful” He demanded.

“I’m, ugh, I’m beautiful” Your words were quick, drool building up in your mouth and dribbling from the side of it. “Again, make me believe it” He responded. “I’m beautiful Terry, so beautiful” You felt yourself about to come again, walls squeezing him even tighter.

“Yes you are” Terry agreed, his own orgasm building. The sensation of you creaming around him triggered Terry’s orgasm. He continued to thrust as he spilled into you, the mixture of you two dripping onto the sheets. You fell limp onto the bed, shaking and whining at the overwhelming feeling. Terry pulled out slowly to watch his cum flow from your hole.

A warm rag was the next thing you felt on your pussy, the heat making you sigh in relief. “Don’t worry baby, I got you” Terry spoke softly, planting a kiss on your cheek.

—

tags: @kenshisluvrgirl @megamindsecretlair

[thedissonantverses]

So not to hijack this post because I fully agree here but you keyed into something that’s been bothering me.

We have to reconcile the fact the fandom is racist and would have killed Davrin over Harding way more often. We all saw the romance stats.

Comes back to them feeling like they had to and it is worse writing but I hate that I get why they felt they had to.

We talk about death of the audience around here a lot and I do think BW hamstrings their own writing frequently worrying too much about their audience. But I’m also well aware of video game audiences being filled with the worst kinds of people and if we critique the writing(which please do OP is correct in saying this) we also have to hold the mirror up to ourselves.

Because it’d be great to be able to live in a world where a black man whose writing is this strong should be able to sacrifice himself heroically without his skin color being a major factor in the decision. Like it should not matter and it’s insane I have to say this in a game with fucking magic and dragons and where his race is actually “elf”.

But that’s not the here and now. It legitimately makes me angry that his arc is equal to Harding’s narratively and the writing is so good and people frequently skip over it to focus on Iyessa and Assan and not the man himself. Or I’ve seen people prioritize a white woman turned blighted monster and a baby animal because they’re part of a black man’s story and his journey is less important to them by virtue of his skin color. Despite the fact he’s the human here.

Would BW’s writing be improved if they stopped worrying so much about their audience? Yes. Is that audience racist to the point they have to worry? Also yes.

I actually think Davrin's death would have been more heartbreaking if Assan didn't die with him. You take over caring for a piece of Davrin's legacy and have to learn how to cope with the loss with Assan. You build Davrin a statue in Arlathan amongst the ruins of the statues of old, dead Elven gods and name him the Father of Griffons.

Davrin becomes a legend, remembered not for being a monster and killing, but for saving the world and for being a caretaker. His arc is complete.

Throwing Assan down that hole was just a cheap shot at the player's emotions. Davrin's arc deserved better.

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 4

Normally I would go back and forth between the two stories, but this one had more chapters backlogged, so it gets to go again.

Just a reminder, starting next week, I'll be taking a break from posting. I'm recovering from all the crazy writing I did this month. 12 ficlets, 1 multi-chaptered Christmas story, and a shorter one-shot of one of the ficlets. All total roughly 30k words in a month. So... yeah. I'm taking a well deserved break.

In this we have Dustin and Mike being teenagers, Robin spots a rogue Chrissy, and Steve has to deal with a very angry brownie (fae, not food).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

~

A curly haired boy came bursting through the front door and Steve glared at him. “Dustin, how many times do I have to tell you to not just barge in?””

Dustin skidded to a stop and looked up at Steve like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

“Bav lets me,” he said smugly crossing his arms and grinning with that stupid gap-tooth grin of his.

Steve put his hands on his hip and sighed. He looked up at the roof, pursing his lips as he fought back the angry response. “Bav is not the only being with thoughts and feelings and while she ‘lets’ you it doesn’t mean you should. Because I sometimes work on dangerous things and if you come barging in, you might get hurt.”

Dustin scoffed. “Like she would let me in if you were doing something dangerous or whatever.”

The walls seemed annoyingly smug and tinted a shimmering grey-green.

“If these walls could talk,” Dustin continued with a smirk, “she would be agreeing with me.”

Steve pinched the the bridge of his nose and sighed. The truth was, he didn’t want Dustin bursting in because he was trying to find a ‘don’t hate me’ spell or charm to get Eddie to ease up off him a bit. But while there were friendship charms and love potions, neither really fit what he was looking for.

“What did you need?” he asked instead. “Or are you here to harass me?”

Dustin put his hands over his heart. “Ah! I’m offended that you think the only two reasons I would come visit are harassing you or wanting something from you.”

“There is another reason you come over?” Steve asked with a huff. He walked over to the bookshelf and began skimming the titles. He pulled out a large blue tome and flipped to a specific page as Dustin watched with suspicion. “How quickly do you think I could brew a truth potion and slip it in your tea?”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. Sheesh. I wanted to beat Mike to the deliveries today because Mr. Jenner is making his apple cider and he always pours a glass for the one who delivers your asthma medicine.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Mike beat you by twenty minutes, man. In fact he should be back here in about five minutes.”

“Nooooo...” Dustin wailed, “that’s so not fair!”

The walls drooped and turned a pale blue. Steve shook his head. “It’s good thing I love you both,” he huffed stomping over to the icebox.

He pulled out an earthenware jug and took down two glasses. He filled both of them with a cool amber liquid and handed one glass to Dustin and then poured the other glass out the window and on to the foundation.

Dustin looked down at the cup and took a cautious sip and then a more enthusiastic gulp. “When did you get this?” He shook his head. “Wait before you answer that, did you just pour out a perfectly good cup of Mr. Jenner’s cider out onto the ground?”

Steve stroked the door frame to the back garden. “Sure, Bav deserves some too.”

The house seemed to get a little bit bigger as the walls turned a pretty, happy dusky pink.

Dustin blinked a moment before he finished the rest of his cider. “Seriously, though. I thought Mr. Jenner doesn’t make the cider until the afternoon.”

“The perks of being the town witch,” Steve said sagely. “People are very superstitious and I’ll often get the first wool or the first bag of flour. In this case, the first jug of cider.”

Dustin looked down at his empty cup and then up at Steve. “That’s actually kinda badass, you know?”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I was about to make lunch if you would like to stay. Mike will be joining us...just...about...now.”

There was a knock on the door and Dustin went to go answer it. Sure enough on the other side of the door was Mike Wheeler.

Dustin looked back at Steve in shock. “How did you know it was Mike? Did Bav tell you? Can you see through walls?”

Mike just shoulder past him to get into the house, greeting Bav briefly before sitting down at the tea table.

“None of the above,” Steve said placing the cold meat sandwiches on the table. He pointed to the window. “I know how long each of you take on your runs and when I looked out the window, he had just passed in front. No sit down and eat your sandwich.”

Dustin grumbled but did as he was told. He took a big bite and hummed happily around his bite of food. “You make the best sandwiches, Steve.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the food. I just get so hungry these days and my mom keeps threatening to rehome me because I eat so much.”

Steve chuckled and sat down with his own plate of food. It was actually a normal amount because he hadn’t used magic today. “I remember what that was like, I’m not much older than you two, so I don’t mind sharing a meal or two to take the burden off your parents a little.”

“I think that’s why Ma doesn’t mind me hanging out over here,” Dustin said around a bite. “She knows you’ll take care of me.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, taking a bite of his food. Claudia Henderson was notoriously protective of her son. She wouldn’t trust the Pope with Dustin and she was Catholic. But somehow, someway she trusted Steve to take care of her Dusty.

He sent them off with full stomachs and cakes for their moms. They didn’t need to know that the cakes, which he was with absolute certainty never actually made it home, were just little charms of be nice to your mom magic. Karen Wheeler and Claudia Henderson deserved a day of their sons being so sweet to them.

Which was the real reason their moms were okay with Steve. Because they were always so nice when they came home from spending time with him. Or on the off chance the cakes did make it home, they had a nice cake to eat and were nicer to their families afterwards. All in all, win/win for everyone.

Robin chose that moment to come home. “I’m in love with your house, Steve. She made the journey home take a little bit longer so I could avoid the buttheads.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, she’s great like that.”

“So guess who I saw coming out of the Munsons’ house on the way home?” she said, putting away the groceries she had into town for.

Steve paused his clearing of the lunch mess and straightened up. “No...really?”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. “Apparently Chrissy Cunningham is branching out since her dramatic break up with Jason Carver.”

Steve finished the dishes with a sigh. “It’s no surprise that his confrontation with Eddie and Bav was public knowledge by breakfast the next day, but even I think visiting another man so soon after your ex went insane and tried to break into someone’s house is little reckless, honestly.”

Robin winced. “Ooh, yeah. I didn’t even think about the crazy ex. Yeah. Ooh. Maybe she was trying to come here and, I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t put the ‘no return’ spell on the love charms,” Steve said, drying his hands. “I like it when they find their truelove and they come back all happy and smiles. If she was looking for me, she missed the mark a second time.”

Robin spun around. “Wait is that why?” Steve nodded. “Are there other charms you don’t put your ‘no return’ spell on? Or is it just that one?”

Steve just shrugged. “My medicines, I guess. That’s where I make the most money or get the best trades. But as for the other things, I saw what happens when you don’t set a boundary with people asking for charms. They’ll start asking for charms for everything. They’ll want to be cured of every ill, want everything handed to them, so I created the spell myself. It’s unique in all the world.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said softly. “About...well any of that I guess. You really don’t talk about your past. Of your life before Hawkins.”

Steve sat down at the table and placed his hands palm down on it. “Look, I don’t talk about it because for the large part, other than a couple of years apprenticing in her shop in the city, I grew up in a town of witches.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and she sat down next to him. “So you can’t talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I would say can’t talk about. But it’s hard sometimes when I say something and everyone stares at me blankly, like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“And with each look and with each comment about how weird you are,” she said softly, taking his hand, “the less you want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“And with there being trouble in town with the whole Chrissy situation...” He sighed. “I’m think starting to wonder if Bav sensed something about her and tried to keep her away.”

The house seemed to shrink on itself a little and the walls turned a light grey.

Steve looked up at the ceiling and cooed, “I’m not blaming you, Bav, I’m blaming myself for not taking in everyone’s advice and giving it to her. Merlin and Circe didn’t like her either. Especially Merlin.”

Robin nodded. “As my familiar I should I have listened to him, too. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she showed up, as well. It’s a whole mess.”

Just then Circe came bursting through the window cawing angrily.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell! As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” He sighed heavily. “Tell Dustin to keep his shirt on and I’ll be right there.”

Robin sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Who would have thought that a Roman Catholic would even have a house elf to anger? Scratch that, who would have thought that house elves even existed?!”

Steve stopped half way to rising. “Like everyone knows that house elves exist. We don’t have any because Bav thinks they’re pests, but like even my dad knew better than to insult Mom’s house elf. Her name was Nora and best seamstress I’ve ever met.”

Robin stared at him blankly. “You want to run that past me again?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and got out a cup of milk and a little bowl of sugar, setting them carefully in a basket. Then he added honey, walnuts, and mint. He wanted to cover all his bases he didn’t know what this elf favored and wanted to make sure they weren’t offended further.

Then he went over to the bookshelf and after skimming the titles for a moment, he pulled out a small green book. He handed it to her. “Read that while I’m gone. The whole thing is useful, but I’d start with page eighty-six. The chapter on house elves.”

Then before Robin could even squawk a protest, Steve was out the door following Circe at speed, running to keep up.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Hendersons’ door to find that Dustin and Walter had been locked out of the house while screams could be heard from inside.

It didn’t sounded pained, it sounded indignant.

“Stand aside please,” Steve said sternly. Dustin and Walter looked back at Steve, thinking he meant them, but suddenly the screaming inside stopped and the door opened. “Thank you.” He turned back to the Henderson men. “Please wait here.”

But before either one of them could protest, Steve had already walked into the house and closed it tightly behind him.

He surveyed the damage. Claudia Henderson stood on the kitchen table battling a broom with her rolling pin. It was worse than he feared. He set his load down on the counter and began unpacking his treats.

The broom stopped moving, and then was slowly, cautiously put down. Once Steve had finished unpacking the honey, suddenly there was a little round faced woman about the size of Steve’s palm standing next to his basket with a red flower as a hat and bright clothes.

“What is that?” Claudia hissed, jumping down from the table.

“You’ll excuse her manners, little one,” Steve murmured, “it appears that she’s never heard of house elves before.”

The elf glared Claudia over her shoulder and then turned back to paw over Steve’s prizes.

“I didn’t have any cream,” he continued. “So I hope the milk is fine.”

The elf put her little hand in the milk and then stuck her hand in her mouth. “It’s good milk. You do your mother proud.”

Steve grinned at that. “So I take it you know Nora then?”

“Who’s Nora?” Claudia asked drawing closer to the two of them at the counter.

“Of course I know my own sister!” the little squeaked. “I’m Nona by the way. Please to meet you, Stevie.”

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what was going on. She turned on her heel and began rummaging around in her ice box. “Eureka!” she cried.

She brought over a bowl and set down on the counter next to Nona. “I’m sorry little one. I wasn’t raised with knowledge of your people. I’m new to this town and was not aware of its different ways.”

Nona turned around and sniffed at the bowl cautiously. She looked up at Claudia in awe. “Clotted cream!” She put her hand in and pulled out a handful of the cream. She shoved it in her face with a contented hum.

“I didn’t know your family wasn’t from Hawkins,” Steve murmured. But he turned to Nona. “Would you please let the boys in, they must be so worried about Claudia.”

Nona looked up from her feast in wide eyed shock. “Oops!” She snapped her fingers and suddenly both Dustin and Walter spilled out on the ground as the door opened under their weight.

Steve went over and helped them to their feet. “Sorry about Nona, she didn’t know you weren’t familiar with house elves and thought you were actively insulting her.”

Dustin and Walter shared a shocked glance then looked over at the little woman eating their clotted cream.

“This is a house elf,” Steve said as Nona curtsied. “Her name is Nona and she helps out around the house. This has been her home for longer than this particular building has stood here. She will do the laundry or any chores left over the night. All she asks in return is a treat of her choice.”

“Does it have to be clotted cream every time?” Dustin asked as she wiped the mess of cream from her face with her apron.

“No,” Nona said. “But it was nice apology, though. I like honey and milk. So as long as you keep a bowl of of one of the two out, your food will never spoil and I will help out around the house.”

The Hendersons all exchanged glances and then Claudia nodded.

Walter stuck out his finger for her to shake. “Welcome to the family, Nona.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[thesoobfiles]

a dance of two swords – l. haechan (m)

word count: 6.4k

summary: boy meets girl. boy falls in love with girl. girl happens to be an assassin sent to take care of boy. yk, classic love story.

prompt: “all that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes!”

tagging: @kookthief @honajoong

a/n: thank you so much to everyone who voted and helped me decide to make this one part! this is my first time writing for an idol, so I hope this doesn’t go terribly wrong! but it’s an AU (heir!Haechan x assassin!reader) so I think there’s room for a few OOC moments ☝️ also, i never give the voice behind the comms a name so feel free to imagine it as any NCT member or idol of your choice! most importantly, this is NSFW! if you’re a minor, please don’t interact!

Thursday, Sept. 1, 20XX

“Whoever chose this bright ass yellow as the school-issued uniform needs to be studied…” You mumbled under your breath as you begrudgingly put your arms through the blazer of your school uniform. Smoothing out the wrinkles in a frustrated fashion, you looked over your appearance in the bathroom mirror before a voice rings out through your comms.

“(Y/N), relax. Remember, everyone else is wearing the same uniform, so it’s easier to blend in… Besides, isn’t it nice to wear an official high school uniform? Or have a real first day of school? You know, experience a normal childhood?”

Let’s rewind, shall we? You aren’t necessarily your run of the mill senior high school student. No no, you’re an assassin. Born and raised in the confines of an underground facility your home country swore they didn’t have anymore. Extensively trained in hand-to-hand combat as well as quite skilled in a few close-range weapons such as the sword, the nunchucks and your personal favorite, the dagger.

You were flown out to South Korea so you could handle a special issue that your Korean counterparts were unsuccessful with: taking care of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, often called “Haechan” by friends, is the son of an incredibly successful man. Lee’s father runs Spade Inc. It’s like if you were to take Google, Samsung and Apple, roll them into one company, and put one man in charge. Obviously, this means that Lee and his entire family are worth tons of money; however, no one has been successful in tapping into this gold mine.

You were about to change all that.

“Short skirts were never really all that desirable to me, in all honesty. God, i’d be flashing the entire student body if I were to bend over and tie my shoes…” you replied with distaste as you returned to your reflection in the mirror, spinning around so that you could fix your bow.

“Besides, it’s much easier to kick ass in my polyester.” You say, walking out of the bathroom with your bag slung over shoulder.

“If you say so…look alive, target is approaching.”

You look up just in time to see the man of the hour: Lee Donghyuck.

He’s walking straight for you, or at least it looked like he was. He makes a sharp turn as soon as you open your mouth, and it feels like he walks past you in slow motion. You turn your head in his direction with your mouth still slightly agape, he looks at you from the corner of his eye and he smirks as he walks into the men’s bathroom.

You close your mouth, clear your throat, and pretend that wasn’t the tiniest bit embarrassing.

“Or not… my bad…”

“Yeah, it IS your bad…” you whisper with a bite as you check your watch.

“12:20… lunch period is almost over…” you sigh as you walk away from the bathrooms and toward your final class. Luckily, you share this class with Donghyuck, so you’ll see him later. You actually share 3 out of 4 classes with him, but you can’t really take Sex Ed III with him since each block is separated by gender. A precaution taken by the school to avoid unnecessary ruckus in the classrooms. No matter how old they get, boys will be boys.

You push the door of the classroom open and scan the room for potential threats. Unless two girls giggling in the front left corner counted as a threat, you were in the clear. You settle into a seat in the back corner and whip out your laptop. The seat is by a window and it’s in the very last row, the best seat for emergency exits and observing your target. No matter where Donghyuck sits, you’ll have the perfect visual of him.

As soon as the warning bell rings, you feel someone plop into the seat next to you. You turn your head to your right and suddenly, you’re seeing the visuals of Lee Donghyuck a LOT closer than you initially expected. You mask your surprise the best you can, blink twice, and return your focus to your laptop.

Boy, the photos do him no justice whatsoever. This man is nothing short of drop dead gorgeous.

“Not even a hello, darling?” you hear from your right.

You furrow your eyebrows and whip your head towards the voice, “Excuse me, do we know each other?” you ask incredulously.

“Not yet. I’ve seen you in a few of my classes and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Lee Donghyuck, but you can call me Haechan.” He flashes you a smile with his right hand extended in your direction.

At the same time, a familiar voice rings out through your comms.

“Damn, could you sound any more enthusiastic?”

You roll your eyes in response and take his hand. You’ve read plenty of documents about Donghyuck and his personality, so you know that he likes it when they play hard to get. You extend your hand in his direction and introduce yourself.

“Kim Suji.” You lie through your teeth as you watch him tenderly grab your hand and kiss the back of it. You’d be a liar if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“A Korean name?” he asks curiously. Which is entirely fair because you don’t look like you have a single Korean bone in your body.

“From my mother’s side.” You immediately respond.

“아 그럼 수지씨의 한국어를 어때요? (Ah, then how is your Korean?)” Haechan asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“나쁘지 않아요, 동혁씨. (Not bad, Donghyuck.)” you reply with a smile as you retract your hand and face your laptop.

“Wow, he really tried you like that… Good thing you took those Korean classes over the Japanese ones…”

You chuckle as the final bell rings.

“Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Ryu and welcome to Advanced Song Writing!”

You can feel Donghyuck still looking at you, but he looks way when the teacher starts calling names for attendance.

You get through the class with no issues. You focus on paying attention and before you know it, there’s only 5 minutes left of class.

“Alright class, thank you for bearing with me through the first day formalities. At the end of the semester, you’ll have to turn in a song that follows the criteria in the rubric I mentioned earlier. I’ll post it for everyone’s convenience.”

The teacher pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, looking at the clock on the back wall of the classroom.

“Alright, there’s only a minute left. Everyone, look at your desk mate. This person will be your partner for the end of semester project. Please take good care of each other and let’s get along! That’s it for today's class! See everyone tomorrow!”

The bell rings seconds after her ending comment and the classroom erupts in noise. Friends high fiving, acquaintances exchanging numbers and peers introducing themselves to each other.

“Alright, Donghyuck. It looks like we’re part-.” You stop short as you turn your head to find an empty seat.

“What the…” you look down at his desk to find a note.

Sorry Suji... Needed to slip out for a business meeting as soon as class was over, but here’s my number ~

010 – XXXX - 0606

- Haechan <3

“Wow, writing love letters already?”

“Oh, zip it. You already know he’s a huge flirt. He must’ve slipped out when the bell rang…” you say to the empty classroom as you place your belongings in your bag and make your way out of the room.

“Donghyuck getting past YOUR senses? Oh, someone alert the press…”

“He’s clearly a challenge… I mean, you wouldn’t fly out a foreign operative for kicks and giggles…” you reply matter-of-factly as you put your wireless earphones in, so people don’t think you’re talking to yourself on your walk home.

“Alright, you got me there. I’m waving the white flag of surrender. No need to so sound defensive…”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the 10th time today and hit up the convenience store on your way home. If there’s anything you love about Korea, it’s the super easy meals sold at the CU. You grab a few triangle kimbap and bring them to the counter. You give the cashier a couple bills and bow before taking your leave.

A short walk leads you to the front door to your “home.” You unlock it and scan the room for any signs of tampering. Not that there’s much that can be tampered with. Staying in an apartment used only for short term missions, there isn’t that much to see. One room. A foldable table and chair, a mini fridge and a really crappy couch. Being met with no signs of tampering or potential threats, you put down your bag, store the food in the fridge and sign off on comms.

“Talk to you tomorrow, (Y/N). Stay safe.”

“You too.” You remove your earrings and put it in the special box given to you when you were first given this assignment. You place the bow with the hidden camera right next to it, lense face down.

You plug in your laptop and hit the showers. After your shower, you sit down at the dinner table with your kimbap and look at the note Donghyuck left you.

“Referring to himself as Haechan when we aren’t even well acquainted… what a forward guy…” you scoff as you enter his number into your phone.

To: 010-XXXX-0606

“Hey, it’s Suji. Is this Lee Donghyuck?”

You hit send and take a bite out of your kimbap.

“Not bad…” you utter to yourself when you already feel a vibration.

From: Lee Donghyuck

“No need to government name me… Aren’t we friends? ~”

You scoff. This boy is way too friendly for his own good.

Suji: “We just met today and you’d consider us friends?”

Donghyuck: “That’s how you get closer to people you want to get to know better ~”

Suji: “Aren’t you supposed to be in a business meeting?”

Donghyuck: “We just wrapped everything up… Your timing was quite perfect actually…”

Suji: “When and where do you want to meet?”

Donghyuck: “Aw, do you miss me already? ~”

You needed a moment to pause and let the audacity of this man sink in. You couldn’t help but laugh because in all your years of performing missions, never have you met someone who has come off as strong as Donghuck. Well, you know you’re a beautiful girl. That’s normally why you’re assigned to cases where the target is male. They more often than not fall for your looks, which sooner or later leads to their demise.

Suji: “For the project, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck: “You’re no fun </3 We can meet tomorrow after class. My place, unless you don’t feel comfortable enough?”

Huh, even when he’s flirting, his manners are still intact. You’re reminded of your first meeting with Donghyuck, when he grabbed your hand and tenderly placed his lips to the back of your hand… You didn’t show it, but it made you a bit nervous. This is the first mission you’ve been on where the target is not only in your age group, but he’s totally your style.

“Maybe in a different life, we could’ve been lovers…” you whisper as you draft up your next text.

Suji: “That’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Donghyuck: “See you tomorrow ~”

Friday, Sept. 2, 20XX

You walk into class with sunglasses on your head and a mask over your face. If you’re going to Donghyuck’s house today, it’s best to complete the mission as soon as possible. Obviously, you don’t want videos of you entering the premise on file, so you need a low-key kind of disguise. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to have the chance so soon, but the sooner the better.

The classes zoom by and before you know it, you’re in your last class. Your butt just met the chair when you hear a concerned and already rather familiar voice.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to ask, but are you feeling sick today? We can meet at a later date if you aren’t feeling well…” Donghyuck.

“It’s just a precaution. My allergies normally act up around this time.” You brush off his concern as you lower your mask in the classroom. You offer him a smile and he immediately brightens up.

Unlike the other classes, this one doesn’t breeze by so easy. It’s possible that the only reason they went by so quickly was because you had no one to distract you, but this is the only class where you and Donghyuck sit next to each other. It was hard to pay attention to the teacher talk about the importance of bridges when there was a face that you know inspired hymns right next to you.

You put your laptop to sleep. Why? So you can stare at Donghyuck’s reflection on the empty screen. It’s not like you cared about your grades here anyway. You weren’t staying for long, but wow he truly is a stunning individual. His tan skin that was completely free of blemishes, his focused face that still managed to hold a softness despite his well-defined features, his fluffy brown hair that fell into his eyes, but gently caressed the top of his blazer…

It isn’t until Donghyuck looks down to type on his own laptop that you’re snapped back to reality. You quickly jot down some notes on your laptop, so it looks like you were paying attention and not like you spent the last few minutes spacing out to Donghyuck’s face.

Closing your laptop, you decide to whip out your notebook instead. At least you can’t stare at him that way…

The class is beginning to wrap up when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to Donghyuck and raise your eyebrows curiously.

“I can drive us to my place after class if you aren’t busy.” He offers sweetly.

“Sounds great.” You smile, pulling your mask back up.

You walk out together and head to the senior lot. You know Donghyuck drives a sixth-generation Mercedes-Benz SL, but he doesn’t know you know, so you just follow behind him. You reach his car and he opens the door for you and guides you in.

“What a gentleman.” You muse as you sit in the passenger seat. He smiles and walks to the driver side.

“I’ve been told girls like being the passenger princess.” He chuckles.

“You’ve been told? It’s not first hand experience?” You joke.

“Well, I don’t normally drive girls around haha…” he replies as he starts the engine.

You were about to make another quip when he rests his hand on the back of your headrest. Good thing your mask is still up because the speed in which your jaw snapped shut is equivalent to that of a mouse trap. The reason? You’re currently looking at Donghyuck reverse out of the student lot, one hand on the wheel and his neck turned towards the rear windshield.

Your eyes travel from his face down to the veins on his neck, only to land on his left hand that rests so nicely on the material of the steering wheel. You could imagine a few more places where his hands could rest just as nicely…

You snap your head towards the windshield and close your eyes. You don’t remember acting this horny even as a pre-pubescent teen during your formative years. What the hell is wrong with you??

“The drive isn’t that long, but it isn’t short either, so you can put on some music if you’d like.” He offers.

Donghyuck’s house is far too nice to be located in Seoul. His family lives in the same house they’ve lived in since he was born, which is in Goyang. Roughly a half hour drive from SOPA, nothing crazy.

“Thanks…” you reply softly. Picking up his phone from the console, you type in a song you know he’ll love.

Girl, close your eyes Let the rhythm get into you Don’t try to fight it There ain’t nothing that you can do

“You like Michael Jackson??” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Of course. His songs are nothing short of legendary.” You reply with pride as you queue a few more songs and return his phone to the console.

He laughs in disbelief and starts singing along.

“I wanna rock with you. All night ~”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You knew he could sing but boy, is he a damn good singer…

You’re learning so much about Haechan that the files can’t teach you… All you had to go off of were a few recent pictures and pages of facts about him. It’s easy remembering the fact that he’s a Junior Black Belt holder or that he has a passion for music, but hearing him sing in real time is something akin to an out of body experience.

Haechan serenades you all the way to his house and all you can say is that calling it a “house” is a grave understatement. He lived in nothing less of a castle. It was clearly passed down from generation to generation as you couldn’t possibly imagine a building of this stature being built in today’s day and age.

He pulls up to the front door of his not-so-humble abode and parks. Exiting the vehicle, he walks over to your side and opens your door once more. This time, extending his hand towards you so he can help you out.

“Wow, this dude must’ve had some serious etiquette classes drilled into his brain. I cannot imagine a normal guy doing all this jazz for you…”

You can’t help but mentally agree. Unfortunately, the men of today are so incredibly uncultured, it’s past the point of humor.

“Welcome home, Young Master Donghyuck.” You hear an aged voice say as soon as the door swings open.

“Good afternoon, Hajoon.” He replies with a soft smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Lee residence, Miss Suji.” Hajoon turns to you and does a 90 degree bow.

“Thank you for having me.” You reply, returning his bow.

“Cameras are down.”

You smile weakly as you walk through the front door of the Lee residence. You adjust the sunglasses on your head and lower your mask while slipping off your outside shoes and replacing them with the guest slippers provided by Hajoon.

“Young Master Donghyuck, Miss Suji, would you care for a freshly squeezed beverage?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Haechan speaks for the both of you.

“That would be lovely, Hajoon.”

Hajoon bows and turns to a doorway that you assume leads to the kitchen.

Haechan begins walking to the foot of a spiral staircase, probably leading you to a room where you can work. He turns to you with a smile.

“You MUST try Hajoon’s fresh lemonade. It’s the best you’ll ever have.” He winks at you as he proceeds walking up the staircase.

You stand there at the bottom, doe eyed.

“…i-if you say so…” you stutter.

“Did you just stutter?? (Y/N), you do remember that this dude flirts with anyone and everyone, right?”

You give the side eye to no one in particular, but you know who it’s for. Of course you knew that, but you were just a girl after all. No matter how well trained you were, is it so crazy to believe that a little attention from a hot guy could have this effect on you?

“Do NOT let your personal feelings get in the way of the mission.”

Good thing Haechan is a good few steps in front of you, so you reply a bit snappily.

“Please, I’m not 5. I’m perfectly capable of following instructions.” You mumble under your breath. Although, you weren’t really as determined to end his bloodline as you were in helping him further it…

You reach the top of the staircase and follow Haechan down the hall to a room with double doors. He pushes them open, and you’re met with a very large and beautifully decorated room. Bookshelves lining the walls, paintings adorning the walls without, a wooden table in the center of the room with one larger-than-average couch and a tray of snacks in the center.

Haechan spins around with his arms wide open in a “ta-da” like manner. You raise your eyebrows and nod in amazement. You almost forgot that his parents are incredibly well off and have the funds to buy 50 more houses like the one you’re currently standing in.

“Hajoon will bring the drinks up when he’s done.” He states as we walks over to the couch, urging you to sit first.

You smile at him and take a seat. You on the right-hand side and Haechan on the left-hand side. He immediately reaches for a cracker on the tray and offers it to you. How nice. You move to grab it and he quickly yanks it out of your grasp. You furrow your eyebrows and try again only for it to be moved just out of your reach.

You squint your eyes at Haechan, and he chuckles. He’s holding the cracker in his left hand, dangling his arm over the couch, taunting you. With every inch towards Haechan, his back reclines further and further into the couch until his head lies on the armrest. You put your left hand on the back of the couch for leverage and stretch out your arm once again in an attempt to grab the snack.

He giggles and it all happens so fast. Your left arm slips, he drops the cracker and you face-plant right into his chest.

“Shit, is your physical trainer a brick wall??” you ask as you prop yourself up with your left hand once again. Your right hand flies to your nose and rubs it for some sort of relief.

Your eyes are still squeezed shut in pain as your right hand hovers over your nose. Haechan is silent even after you pose your question. You open your eyes and you see that you’re only a few inches from his face.

You freeze in place, right hand still over your nose as you lock eyes with the man you were tasked to kill.

His eyes bore into yours and they sparkle as they do.

“Hi gorgeous.” He whispers as he smiles at you.

You grab a pillow from beside you and smoosh it over his face and no, it has nothing to do with your heart racing a mile a minute. Death by asphyxiation. You can work with that.

Well, you could’ve worked with it until there was a knock at the door. Even though it was slightly ajar, you assume it’s protocol to knock before entering.

You roll your eyes and remove the pillow from Haechan’s face, allowing him to sit up and fix his appearance. Although, he misses his hair because it still looks an absolute mess. But you have to admit, he looks quite cute with his hair all ruffled… Hajoon enters shortly after his knock on the door and he sets the lemonade down onto the table. He bows and takes his leave, shutting the door as he does.

All of a sudden, you hear static. That’s not good. There must be some kind of frequency blocker in the door and now there’s no way for you to communicate. That’s fine. You don’t need him to complete your mission.

You finally remove your right hand from your face only to see blood covering your palm. Your eyes widen, but Haechan is the first to speak.

“Oh dear…” He hurriedly grabs a napkin from the snack tray and hands it to you. You grab the napkin from Haechan, and you retrieve a hand mirror from your bag. Assessing the damage, you carefully wet the napkin with the condensation from the pitcher of lemonade and gently wipe at your face. It’s really quiet, which is unusually for Haechan, so you look up only to see him already staring at you.

“All that blood looks good on you… It really brings out your eyes!” he awkwardly compliments you.

He has fear in his eyes and yet you burst out laughing.

You’re too busy laughing to respond. It isn’t until you’ve got all the giggles, laughs and chuckles out of the way when you speak up.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were so funny…” you trail off as you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye.

His chuckles are unsure, but his nerves give you confidence. So, you put a hand on his thigh, and his breath hitches.

“A compliment is hardly the first thing that comes out of the mouths of people who’ve made me bleed…” you say cryptically with a sly smile on your face.

He blinks at you with wide eyes,

“What? Has no one ever flirted back with you?” you ask, turning your body so you’re facing him. You inch closer and closer and he inches further and further until his head lays on the arm rest once again.

“Or are you frightened about what happens to people who’ve made me bleed?” you smugly inquire as you place your knees on either side of Haechan’s pelvis, his legs straightening onto the couch cushions in response.

You rest your right hand on Haechan’s cheek and it’s hot to the touch.

“What’s the matter, Haechan?” you pout and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“In all the times we’ve talked, you’ve never been this quiet. Tell me… what’s on your mind?” you say as you continue to caress his cheek.

He stares up at you, in an almost awestruck manner.

“You called me Haechan…” he whispers.

You break out laughing for the second time in the last 10 minutes because truly Lee Donghyuck must be one of the funniest creatures on Earth.

“Oh Haechan… regardless of the ambiguous nature of this conversation, you’re surprised that I called you ‘Haechan’? You are such an interesting creature…” you decide as you retract your hand from his cheek and put your full weight on Haechan’s hips.

You reach over to the table so you can grab a cracker, since you were robbed of it earlier. You hear him inhale and release a shaky exhale. You return your eyes to him and see that his eyebrows are knitted, and his eyes are closed.

“You are so incredibly pretty, Haechan. As anyone ever told you that?” you question, and he whimpers in response.

“You talk a big game for someone who folds so easily…” you note as you fiddled with your shoe.

“No one’s ever taken charge before…” he breathes out.

You quickly release the dagger stored in the sole of your shoe and swiftly press the cool metal to the flesh on Haechan’s neck.

His eyes flutter open and never has a man looked more attractive in your eyes.

“Even in the face of danger, you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You say in amazement as you slowly return to sitting on Haechan’s pelvis, keeping the blade close to his throat.

“Oh my god…” he groans, bucking his hips into yours.

You tilt your head to the side. You can’t tell if it’s the thrill of having his life in the hands of others or if it’s the praise that gets him, but you’re determined to find out.

“Is that what you like to hear? You like hearing about how pretty you are?” you ask and he hurriedly nods his head, eyes still closed.

“Let me see those beautiful eyes, baby. Talk to me.” you purr, moving his bangs to the side and he slowly opens his eyes. They’re a bit glossy but they sparkle like they house the stars of a thousand galaxies. You can’t help but hold eye contact with the boy. It’s almost as if you’re stuck in a trance, until his voice breaks you out of it.

“Please…” he whispers, giving you the most sincere pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Please?” you ask, encouraging Haechan to use his words.

“Please do something. Anything.” He pouts and he begs and you can’t help but mentally decide you would give Haechan absolutely everything he ever wanted. Although, it shouldn’t be too much given he probably already has everything he wants.

“My sweet boy…” you start, diligently removing the dagger from his throat and placing it on the table. You place your hand on his chest, right where his heart his, and you can feel it going a mile a minute. You smile, tracing shapes over the fabric of his sweater vest with your fingernail.

“It’s yours.” You finish and close the distance, placing a sweet kiss to Haechan’s pouty lips. He reacts immediately and his hands fly up to hold your cheeks and deepen the kiss. You flatten your hand on his chest and run your other through his soft locks. You lightly grasp at the roots and he moans into the kiss. You gently bite his bottom lip and he opens up immediately. It’s like playing a game. Everything you do has Haechan reacting like no tomorrow.

You pull apart to catch your breath and you see a string of saliva stretch between you and Haechan. He gazes up at you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that…” you whine as you push him away and cover his eyes.

“Someone seems a little shy.” He teases with a smirk.

Honestly, as a girl who was raised and trained to be an assassin, you don’t have much sexual experience. Which isn’t crazy to acknowledge because you’re a killer. You bring pain, not pleasure; but there’s something about Haechan that makes you feel emotions you’ve never experienced. All you know is that you wanna take care of him. You take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

You stay like this for a few breaths until you lift your hands to peek at Haechan and find that he’s already looking back at you with those big, beautiful doe eyes. He smiles up at you and gently holds your wrists.

“Sweetheart, what do you wanna do? If you want to take charge, I’ll follow your lead, but if you don’t know what to do, I’ll happily take the reigns.” He offers supportively as he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“I… I want to have control, I just don’t know… how...” You cast your eyes down, deep in thought.

“But I want to try.” You say, determined. Haechan smiles at you, with… pride? You don’t analyze it too much. You remove your hands from his eyes and lower them so that you hold his face in your hands. You come face-to-face with your target and state your mission.

“Lee Haechan, I’m going to take care of you….” You bring his face mere centimeters from yours and place a quick kiss on his lips, “…my way.”

Your hands slide down from his cheeks, over his neck and land on his chest. You open up his blazer and stare at his sweater vest.

“First, we need to get rid of this…” you note. In the blink of an eye, you retrieve your dagger and with one swift move, Haechan’s sweater vest is torn right down the middle. His eyes widen, looking between you and his ripped sweater vest. His cheeks start to warm. You look down and note that his white button up doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Perfect.” You smile to yourself as you open his shredded vest the same way you did his blazer. Compared to the aggressive way you tore his vest to shreds; you slowly unbutton his shirt all the way down to the last button that stops right below his navel. You hear Haechan’s breathing start to get a little heavier. You smirk as you place your hands on his abs. He gasps at the contrast your cold hands offer to his warm abdomen.

Putting your hands on either side of his waist, you lean forward. You start with his cheeks. You kiss the beauty mark right above the corner of his mouth, moving to the mark near the junction between his jawline and his neck and you couldn’t miss the mole right over his Adam’s Apple. With every kiss you leave, Haechan hums in response.

You travel down from his neck to his chest. You slide your hands up his chest and your fingers rolls over his nipples, drawing a high-pitched moan from him. You pinch them and roll them between your fingers, each action pulling a delicious sound from Haechan. He mewls, and moans, and gasps, and every noise is like music to your ears. When you’re done, you leave a delicate kiss to each nipple, which has Haechan’s back arching.

Once again, you use your fingernails and slowly rake them down his abdomen, causing a shudder to rise up Haechan’s spine.

Tapping your nails against the metal of his belt buckle, you look up towards Haechan and like every other time, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are so glassy that you think a tear might fall if he were to blink.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll put you out of your misery now.” You promise, already working on taking his belt off. As you work to remove his belt and unbutton his pants, he’s already raising his hips. You smile as you slide his pants down his legs and toss them to the side, leaving him in his boxers. Well, his boxers and the top half of his school uniform.

There’s a wet patch on his boxers and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why. You rub your pointer finger over the patch and Haechan groans in response. He looks down at you with a pout on his face.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize, lowering his boxers to his thighs. Freeing his erection, you’re met with the sound of it slapping against his stomach and Haechan gasps.

“It’s so unfair that every part of you is so pretty…” you say, gathering the pre-cum from his tip and rubbing it down his shaft.

“Oh my god…” he whispers. With every movement that your wrist makes, he becomes more and more vocal. But it’s not enough. Gathering a small pool of saliva in your mouth, you let it drip out of your mouth and onto his cock. He hisses at the contact, gripping the head of the couch with his hand. You place a tender kiss to the tip of his angry cock, drawing out noises Haechan didn’t even know he was capable of producing.

Since you’ve successfully managed to lubricate him, you get to work. You rub your thumb over the tip and start pumping your hand up and down. His moans truly sounded like heaven on Earth.

“Oh, just like that… please please please…” he pleads. You smile because clearly you’re doing something right. You move a bit faster, making sure you give the occasional squeeze to the base of his cock. Haechan starts writhing.

“I thought you said… I thought… you didn’t know…” he starts losing the ability to speak in full sentences.

“I don’t.” you say, understanding what he wanted to say, “but I appreciate the ego boost.” You quip, beginning to massage his balls with your other hand.

“Ohhhhh yessss…” he drawls. Keeping a consistent pace, you see that his stomach starts to contract, and his breathing gets quicker.

“I’m gonna cum!” he shouts just in time for the ropes of cum to shoot onto his stomach. Your hand stills, unsure of what to do or where to put it so you just continue holding him until he stops cumming. Haechan’s breathing is still heavy but it starts to slow as he comes down. He raises his head and looks at you with hooded eyes.

“You… are a liar…” he huffs out and drops his head again. You start giggling because, who doesn’t like to get praised? You stare at the milky substance on Haechan’s stomach and curiosity gets the best of you. You bring his softening cock to your lips and lick at his tip, collecting any leftover cum with your tongue.

“AH!” he exclaims as his hips buck up towards your face. His head shoots up from the couch and he finds you with a thoughtful expression on your face.

“Sweet… but a little salty…” you note, smiling at him. He lets out a scoff of disbelief as he puts his weight onto his elbows. You let go of him and reach for the napkins on the table to clean him up. He watches you work diligently to wipe the cum off of his stomach. When you’ve got most of it off, you grab another napkin and gather the condensation from the lemonade pitcher, similar to what you did when you were cleaning your bloody nose. You’re almost done when Haechan raises his hand and pats your head. You pause and look up at him with wide eyes, which prompts him to speak.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly as he starts gently caressing your hair.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” you laugh and finish up by putting the used napkins in the little trash bin by the couch. He playfully rolls his eyes.

“I’d be a bit better if someone didn’t mangle my sweater.” He smirks as an expression of guilt crosses your features. You awkwardly chuckle, looking down at his abdomen to see his mangled sweater hanging open. He ruffles your hair, causing you to close your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He jokes, removing his hand from your hair. Haechan shrugs off his blazer and sweater vest, leaving him in his unbuttoned, white button up. You sit up, wanting to give him space.

He drapes his outerwear over the back of the couch and faces you. There’s a look in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Haechan puts his hands out in front of him, flipping them so that his palms face upwards. You look down at his hands and then up to his face. He smiles, he briefly glances down at his hands and returns his gaze to you. Getting the message, you rest your hands in his. He closes his hands in response and gently caresses your hand.

It’s nice, but then in the blink of an eye, he has you on your back and your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at him, surprised by this turn of events. He smirks and comes close to your ear, his hair tickling your nose.

“Now… it’s my turn to take care of you ~”

[thef1diary]

boss!daniel being a menace during the christmas party; stealing inappropriate touches when no one is looking, whispering the filthiest things while you're in a conversation with your coworkers. at some point he can't wait any longer so he drags you upstairs and fucks you in the nearest room 🫠

🩵

— nonnie, I’ll just have you know this request hasn’t left my mind for daysss. constantly been thinking about all the tricks he’d pull on you 😵‍💫 18+ content below

The office Christmas party was loud, bustling with chatter and laughter, but all you could focus on was Daniel. He’d been hovering nearby all evening, his presence impossible to ignore. Every so often, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered the filthiest things imaginable.

“You look so good in this, sweetheart,” he murmured while you were mid-conversation with your coworkers, his voice low and teasing. “Too good, really. Makes me want to bend you over a desk right here, fuck you, and let all my employees watch.”

His smirk only grew when he caught the way your breath hitched, your eyes darting nervously around the room to see if anyone heard him. They didn’t. Completely absorbed in their own discussions, they were oblivious to the heat blooming on your cheeks or the way your thighs squeezed together in response.

He stepped in close, his frame blocking yours from their view before his hand slid up to your chest, fingers finding the peak of your nipple through your shirt. The pinch made you gasp softly, your eyes darting around to see if, again, anyone noticed.

“Relax,” he murmured, popping a button on your shirt. “No one’s looking.”

Your breath caught as he popped another, then another, his hand pulling the fabric aside just enough to expose your cleavage, the hardened peak of your nipple brushing the edge.

“No bra,” he said under his breath, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin. “You really came to the party like this? Reckless.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Daniel tilted the drink he held in his other hand, the cold liquid splashing down your chest.

The sharp gasp you let out drew attention immediately. Heat rushed to your face as you quickly clutched your shirt together, hiding your exposed skin before anyone could see.

“Oh no,” Daniel said, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’m so sorry!” He grabbed a handful of napkins from the table, dabbing at your chest.

“Let me help,” he added, his voice soft and sincere, but the deliberate swipe of his fingers grazing your tits told a different story.

You swallowed hard, biting back a curse as he continued his charade. “We should—excuse us, everyone, I need to help her clean up.”

Before you knew it, Daniel was guiding you out of the room, his hand resting low on your back. The moment the elevator doors closed, his mask of guilt slipped, replaced by a smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Messy little thing,” he murmured, glancing down at your disheveled blouse. “Let’s make you messier.”

He led you into a private office on another floor, shutting the door behind him. The second the lock clicked, his lips were on yours, his hands tugging your shirt open completely.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you tonight?” he groaned, fingers sliding under the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumb into your panties—lace, of course, part of the “uniform” he’d required for your position—and tugged them down.

Daniel pushed you onto the couch, his body covering yours as he slid his cock into your cunt with a single rough thrust. The stretch was intoxicating, your hands clutching at his shirt as he moved, his pace unforgiving.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as his cock drove into you again and again. “You take me so well,” he murmured against your ear, his teeth grazing the shell. “This is why I hired you as my assistant, hm? You’re so good for me, keeping your cunt wet and ready for me. To please me, my good little slut.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as he held you firmly in place, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small office, mixed with your desperate moans and his ragged breaths.

When you clenched around him, Daniel’s rhythm faltered, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep and spilled into you. He didn’t pull out, not right away. Instead, he stayed pressed against you, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, his voice low and sinful.

“Stay still,” he murmured, withdrawing slowly. You shivered at the emptiness, only to gasp as he slid your lacy panties back up, trapping his cum inside you. His fingers brushed over the fabric, pressing lightly. “Keep it in. That’s your job, isn’t it? Taking care of me and my mess.”

When the two of you returned to the party, no one seemed to notice anything amiss, but you couldn’t focus on their conversations. All you could feel was the warm, slick reminder of Daniel’s Christmas gift in your pussy, soaking into the lace of your panties.

Daniel caught your eye from across the room, lifting another drink in a mock toast as if to say, Merry Christmas.

want more boss!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[butchersboobs]

Twist (Part Three)

A Billy Butcher POV fanfic

NSFW under the cut - MDNI

Part One | Part Two

_________

I’ve been up all night. Pacin' the flat. Swearin' at the telly. Drinkin'. 

But nuffink I do stops me keep 'earin you tellin' Ollie I ain't never comin' back - it's on repeat in me 'ead, over 'n over again til I wanna punch me fist through the fuckin' wall.

The look on 'is little face… Nah, I can’t let that stand. You don’t get to pull that kinda stunt 'n get away wiv it. 

So the next day, I'm back knockin' at yer door, shoulders square, ready for anuvver barney.

I expect ya t'tell me t'fuck off, slam the door in me face, maybe even call the ol' bill on me. But ya don’t. You open the door quick, lookin' like you’ve been waittin' for me t'get 'ere. “Come in” ya say, like nuffink's 'appened.

For a second, I just stand there - blinkin' like a twat. “You what?”

“Come in, Billy” you repeat, calm as ya like.

It throws me completely - but I'll be fucked if I'm gonna let you know that. I just shove me way past ya, an' 'ead towards yer livin' room.

You forget - I fuckin' know you. I don’t trust ya one bit - yer up to summink.

The place is quiet - too quiet. No Ollie running about, no squeals o'laughter. “Where’s the boy?” I ask, me voice sharp.

“He’s at preschool,” you say, closin' the door.

Me jaw tightens. I feel like I’ve been set up. “Right. So what’s this, then? Some kinda ambush?”

You shake yer 'ead, looking… sad. Guilty, maybe. Good. You fuckin' should be, after the shit you pulled yesterday. “Billy, I just… I wanted to talk.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Talk? Oh, now ya wanna fuckin' talk. After breakin’ that poor lad's 'eart?”

“I know,” ya say, and there’s this tremble in yer voice. You're fillin' up. And for a split second, I wanna comfort ya - never could stand it, seein' ya cry. But I soon fuck that train o'fort off. Fuck that.

“I know, Billy. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was cruel, and I feel terrible about it.”

“So ya fuckin’ should,” I snap, but the fight’s gone out o'me a bit.

You take a deep breff, steadyin' yerself. “God, he was so upset. He cried himself to sleep last night, thinking he'd never see you again. I can’t do it to him, Billy. I… I want him to see you. Regularly.”

Well that stops me in me tracks. “What?”

“You can see him, as often as you like. We just need to figure out some ground rules,” you say, foldin' yer bloody arms again - but it ain't in anger this time - more like yer tryna 'old yerself togevver. “For Ollie’s sake. He needs stability, Billy.”

Me anger flares up again, hot 'n sharp. “Ground rules? You takin' the fuckin' piss? You fink you get to call the shots after what you've done?”

You flinch, but ya don’t back down. “I’m trying to do what’s best for him, Billy. Can we just - can we not fight about this? Please?”

I look daggers at ya, every muscle in me body tense. Because I know yer right. As much as it boils me piss - you're right. I sigh, draggin' me 'and through me beard. “Fine. Ground rules. Whatever. Just say what you gotta say.”

And then you go straight f'me fuckin' jugular.

“I need you to promise not to tell him you’re his dad…”

The fuckin' balls on you. Fuckin'ell. I'm goona blow...

“You can fuck right off wi'that shite - are you seriously tellin’ me I’ve gotta keep me gob shut 'n pretend I’m just some random fuckin' bloke, while my son - my fuckin' son - walks 'round not knowing the troof? You’re havin’ a fuckin' laugh!"

“For fucksake Billy - let me finish” you shout back, and there's tears fallin' now. “I’m not saying you can never tell him you're his dad. I mean… just… don't tell him yet. Let him get to know you first. Let him feel comfortable. Please.”

I’m so angry I can 'ardly see straight. I need ta fuck off out of 'ere, sharpish - cos if I don't? I'll fuckin' frottle ya. 

But outta nowhere, I fink of Ollie. 'Is little grin, the way he ran t'me like I was his 'ole world. I can't walk out on 'im. E's only little, I don't wanna confuse the lad.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teef. “But don’t fink I’m fuckin' 'appy about it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes.

You try t'pull yerself togevva - you gotta pick 'im up in a minute, ya tell me. And outta nowhere, you ask if I wanna come wiv ya - maybe take 'im for a burger t'the park. Me gut's tellin' me ta tell ya t'fuck off. I wanna see 'im on my terms, not yours. But then Ollie pops back in me 'ead again, an' I imagine 'ow 'is face is gonna light up, and I find meself sayin' yes.

But the second I agree, the panic sets in. What the fuck am I doin'? I’ve never looked after a kid in me life, let alone taken one out on me own. What if 'e falls off the fuckin' climbin' frame and cracks 'is bloody 'ead open? What if I feed 'im the wrong fing? What if I fuck it all up?

But I shove it down, 'ard. I'll do it fo 'im. For my boy.

—-----

We walk just down the road to Ollie’s preschool, an' it’s awkward as fuck. Neaver of us says much, there's just the sound of me bloody great clod'oppers on the pavement and the occasional cough. I can feel ya lookin' at me out the corner of yer eye, probly worryin' I’m gonna fuck it up.

You stop in front'o the preschool gates, fiddlin' wiv yer coat zip, and for a second, I fink about sayin' summink. Summink… normal. But then the gate opens, and the noise o'kids pours out. Me froat tightens.

An' then I see 'im. My boy. 'Is little 'ead bobs up, scannin' the line o'parents, and when 'e clocks me, it’s like the sun’s just come out. “Billy!” 'e shouts, droppin' whatever e’s holdin' and leggin' it towards me.

I don’t fink I’ve ever been hit so 'ard in me life - not by a punch, not by a bottle, not by anyfin. 'E crashes inta me, little arms wrappin' 'round me legs, face liokin' up up at me wiv that massive grin of 'is. “You're back you're back! Yay yay yay”

I crouch down, me 'ands on 'is tiny shoulders, and for a second, I can’t say a bloody word. I swallow 'ard. “Course I am, mate,” I finally manage, me voice rough. “I told ya I'd be back, dinni, ay?”

You’re standin' there, watchin' us, and when I glance atcha, there’s tears in yer eyes. It pisses me off a bit, but I push it aside for Ollie’s sake.

“Hey, Ollie,” you say, your voice gentle. “How would you like to go for lunch with Billy? Maybe to the park after?”

Well - 'e lights up like a fuckin' Christmas tree, bouncin' on the balls of 'is feet. “Yes! Can we, Billy? Please?”

I'm desperately tryna keep me face neutral, but inside I’m shittin' meself. “Yeah, alright, little man. Let’s do it.”

You pass me 'is little backpack, and the strap feels weird in me 'and - too small, too light. I feel like I shouldn’t be trusted wiv summink so important. “Have fun,” ya say, but yer voice is quieter now, almost 'esitant.

I nod, not trustin' meself t'speak wivout crackin'. I take Ollie’s 'and, n' we 'ead down the street, 'is little legs tryna match me stride. He’s chattin' away, excited about lunch, excited about the park, excited about playin' dinosaurs and an 'undred uvver fings I don’t fully follow.

And me? I’m just tryna keep it togevva - pretend I know what the fuck I’m doing, while 'is tiny hand in mine makes me feel like I’m 'olding the most precious fing in 'ole fuckin' world.

‐—-----

We 'it the burger joint first. Thought I’d feel a bit more confident starting there. I mean, 'ow 'ard can it be t'sit down 'n eat? Turns out, a lot bloody 'arder than you’d fink.

Ollie’s bouncin' in 'is seat before we’ve even bloody ordered, natterin' away about dinosaurs again, which ones eat meat, which ones eat plants, 'n which ones'd like burgers if they was still kickin' about. I’m noddin' along, tryna keep up, but troof be told, I’m out me depth.

“Do you like T. Rexes, Billy?” 'e asks me for the tenf time, 'is little face all serious.

“Course I do,” I say, crackin' a grin. “Mean little bastards, ain’t they?”

'E giggles, and it’s a sound I don’t fink I’ve ever 'eard before. Pure joy. It does summink to me, 'earing 'im laugh like that.

When the food comes, I figure e’ll settle down, but nope. He’s dippin' chips in ketchup, then lickin' it off like it’s some kinda game. Gets it all over 'is face. The table. 'Is shirt. Jesus Christ.

“Oi, Ollie, mate,” I say, tryna sound firm but not too 'arsh. “The chips go in yer mowf, not everywhere else.”

'E grins up at me, cheeky as anyfin, an' shoves an 'andful into his gob. “Like this?” 'e mumbles  'round a gob full o'food.

I can’t 'elp it - I laugh. “Yeah, just like that. Perfict.”

By the time we’re done, the table looks like a bloody war zone. Ketchup smeared everywhere, squashed chips scattered, and I’m pretty sure e's got 'alf a milkshake down 'is front. But e’s grinnin' from ear to ear, and I feel like I’m doin' alright.

“Ready for the park, then?” I ask, standin' up and grabbin' some napkins to clean 'im up.

“Yeah!” 'e shouts, jumpin' out 'is seat like I’ve just told him we’re off to Disney World.

We walk over to the park, and e’s practically draggin' me there, 'is little hand clutchin' mine. It’s weird, 'oldin 'is 'and like this. Feels… right.

When we get there, e’s off like a shot up the climbin' frame, shoutin' down at me to watch 'im. “Look, Billy! I’m up really high!”

My 'eart’s in my froat the entire time. E’s bloody fearless, this kid, swingin' off bars, 'angin upside down like e’s got no sense o'danger. I’m standin' there, arms out, ready to catch 'im if 'e so much as wobbles.

“You alright up there, mate?” I call, tryna sound casual while me stomach’s doin' bloody backflips.

“Yeah!” he yells back, laughin'. “I’m the bestest at climbing!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I mutter, more to meself than 'im.

Eventually, 'e makes his way to the slide, and that’s a bit less terrifyin'. E’s up and down it a dozen times, his laughter echoin' across the park. Uvver parents are 'ere, watching their nippers, chattin' amongst 'emselves. I feel a bit out o'place, like I don’t belong, to be honest. But Ollie’s avin' the time of 'is life - so I don’t let it bovver me.

When 'e finally comes runnin' back over, 'is cheeks are pink an' 'is 'air’s a sweaty mess.  E looks up at me, beamin'. “That was fun! Can we come back tomorrow?”

I crouch down to 'im “We’ll see, mate. We'll see. You 'ad a good then time, yeah?”

“The best!” 'e says, frowin' 'is arms round me neck.

An' just like that, the world stops. It’s just me and 'im, an' I feel summink I ain’t felt in years - peace. Pure, unshakable peace.

“Alrigh', let’s get you 'ome,” I say, standin' up and rufflin' his hair. “Your mum’ll 'ave my 'ead if I keep you out too long.”

He laughs, grabbin' me 'and again as we walk back. 

Maybe - just maybe - I can do this parentin' lark.

_________

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @dumpy-little-nobody @bohemianblasphemy @smallsadjellyfish @frank3nfag @noonwardmoss @rebelled-angel @karlurbanism @jax-the-oregonian @chocolategiverzombie @scxrchedearf @bluemerakis @enchantedflameandflower @allirose18 @chiefcreatorcreation @bobabilbil

[alexanderwales]

I've been thinking about "if you don't like it, don't watch it".

First off ... yeah, probably better to just not engage with things rather than being a hater. Better not to piss in someone's Cheerios. Your Kink is Not My Kink But Your Kink is Okay, or whatever. I don't think the path to happiness lies in making haterdom your whole personality, and I think most of the time a single "wow, that sucked" is what's appropriate, or a longer "woooow" if you want to write some analysis/review.

However, we live in a society, and that society can only produce a limited number of quality pieces of media. You might immediately object to that, saying that we're living in an unending sea of content so vast that no one could swim through it all, and my reply is that this is only kind of true. There's a lot of content, yes, but there's a limit on how much budget is going to get spent on content in a given year, and there's certain to be some kind of power law distribution the higher the budgets involved. Those budgets are being used to procure talent from a limited pool.

So every piece of art that gets made which isn't to your preferences does, in some sense, mean that something you actually like doesn't get made. In practice, if that piece of art weren't made, maybe nothing would be made, or maybe some different piece of art you wouldn't like would be made. But there is, ultimately, a limited pool of labor and talent, when it comes to art.

I think that's something to chew on. Obviously a lot of the things that are made are made because someone, somewhere, really had a passion for it, often the artist, and other things are made without passion but because there was a wide market. I think if you're a utilitarian, you might want them to keep making lots of things that are "for" other people, because this is what's best for the greater good (the greater good).

But seeing all that time and effort poured into something that you do not care about? Or something that's poorly made and no one likes? Seeing Hollywood spend a hundred million dollars on a flop? Seeing a game get crippled by its monetization?

There is a part of me that says "well hold on, I do want to talk about why I hate this, why it's bad, what I hated about it, and in fact, I hope that in doing so I can even marginally shift the needle to help the vast ecosystem of creative works move more in a direction that I actually enjoy".

How to message in such a way that this is what you're doing is another conversation entirely. There are lots of very irritating ways to phrase this. But I do think the mindset makes sense, and in certain forms is defensible.

[irrealisms]

hi! yr probably not lookin for asks anymore, but. what's your lifesteal elevator pitch? i know absolutely nothing abt it or any of the folks on the server except the vague things i've absorbed frm reading yr analysis as it crosses my dash, but it compels me, etc.+ also merry christmas! <33 🎄🌟

good news: i am always looking for asks

bad news: my parents DID go to sleep and i was able to wrap presents and put them beneath the tree and so on, so i wasn't going to do more asks tonight

good news again: i actually already have a lifesteal pitch. in a google doc. bc i'm normal

the pitch does assume you're basically already into mcrp and just curious about lifesteal in specific BUT we went to dsmp together so this works out

I really love shitty little tryhards causing problems via impressive feats of minecraft, and lifesteal is full of those. if you like people being good at minecraft, I really recommend lifesteal--in s2, clownpierce was top 50 worldwide at crystal pvp, and now he's washed and in s6 there are 2-3 (depending on who you ask) lifestealers who are better than him at pvp (admittedly maybe not at crystal); in s4, there's some stuff that's impressive in ~vanilla (eg parrot wins a 1v1 while on one heart) and some stuff that's impressive through exploits/social stuff (eg a group of people use a glitch + social engineering to get /op and prove to mojang that the glitch is a security issue that needs patched). every season is like this! lifestealers have backdoored the server 3 seasons in a row (s3-5). for a more recent weird Lifestealer Behavior, rekrap and jumper filled in every end portal room and built new fake ones to make it look like the world glitched and generated without them. lifesteal is weird and constantly coming up with new weird yet impressive things to do. a lot of stuff that's currently banned on lifesteal (F3+A, pie ray) are things i only learned were possible from lifesteal. (on the flip side i'd say: if you are not into shitty little tryhards making weird impressive clickbait, you probably won't like lifesteal, although you may still like hearing about it from time to time.)

related to them being shitty little tryhards causing problems: the rules are...more of a suggestion. getting around the rules, and hiding from the server owner and/or other players that you're doing so, is often part of the fun of lifesteal! (see also the thing where i mentioned that it's been backdoored three seasons in a row.) if that's intriguing: check it out. if not: once again, you have been warned.

lifesteal absolutely has lore and some people roleplay on it, there is nonzero c/cc divide, but it's more like traffic life than, say, late dsmp--it's fully improv, not scripted, and even more than traffic life it is genuinely adversarial. you can sometimes be confident that someone is in character but you can never be sure if someone is out of character, on lifesteal-- things like "going to someone's house irl to turn off their computer" or "lying about your homework/school/sleep schedule" or "changing your entire discord layout so that when you DM someone they think you're someone else" or "claiming you need their footage of an event for your video when actually you just want to see where their spawn point is" are all things that have been done on lifesteal that are considered fair game! everything on lifesteal is real; sometimes this goes well, sometimes it doesn't, but both are interesting to see imo because they are real

partially for this reason and partially for other reasons, lifesteal is fascinating to me as a piece of unique storytelling? a lot of mcyt is doing interesting things with its medium and being improv, lifesteal's not fully unique in that, but definitely if you like that you might like lifesteal. along with the improv, there's the fact that many lifestealers lie about what actually happened in their videos (comparing different videos with the vods, or in some cases with "what people say in various vods" when events weren't streamed, gives some fascinating insights imo--how do people frame their stories? how honest are they? what do they blatantly lie about, what do they gloss over or omit, what do they include in full? who, if anyone, do they see as the heroes or villains? whose videos agree with each other, and whose present a totally different story?), and the fact that conflict about "where do we want the story to go next, what do we think would be an interesting video/the best ending" is often the driving motive for in-character wars and conflicts! if you're interested at all in lifesteal and storytelling, check out barrier blocks part 2 by @mering/@myrmica, which is a deep dive on eclipse federation and the end of lifesteal s4 (those are my special guys); it dips into some academic game studies and it's really, really good. i genuinely cannot recommend it highly enough. (part one is also real good for non-lifesteal-specific discussion of mcrp!)

if you want a more specific plot summary (esp of s4) and/or "how do i actually, like, watch this" (of any seasons): hmu! but that's my pitch. also, read barrier blocks

[starsonablackboard]

okay, lemme "yes, and" this

i support and condone the message, joffy you're entirely correct about numbers not being the representation of worth of any given art piece

HOWEVER

you (any person reading this posting stuff online) have the right to be upset when something you made doesn't get as much of those numbers as you want it to. the fact that social media stats don't represent the worth of your work can coexist with your sadness about not getting as much recognition as you want. it doesn't automatically make you insecure, too dependant on opinions of others, etc. we're social creatures, we crave recognition and feedback and love and it is absolutely normal to feel discontent about not getting enough of it

what I'm trying to say is – don't let numbers on screen dictate what you do and what you create. if you made a thing and noone clicked reblog on it but you liked making the thing – make more of it. if you made a thing and it did a shitton of numbers but you don't want to make more – don't feel pressured to make more. if you made a thing that you liked to make and everyone else also liked the thing – horray, you found your people!!

but it's normal to be sad, frustrated, even heartbroken about those numbers, it doesn't make you stupid or shallow. it's normal, i promise. it's hard to just stop feeling things about social media stats because no matter how "not real those numbers are" they still feel real. and they are in a sense. there are real people behind at least part of the engagement, and we humans want other humans to see what we do and to like it. we need support. you can create in and into a void, but it becomes so so so much easier and happier when the void answers back

it kinda reminds me of body neutrality versus body positivity. forcing yourself to feel love is hard and often dishonest, but trying to feel neutral is much easier.

you can't just erase your want for recognition and I don't think you should. "im gonna do what i want and fuck what everyone thinks" is good as a starting point, but it can quickly lead to "why am i sad when i nobody likes what i do im so shallow" and that just adds more hurt. don't force yourself to be what you're not. don't force yourself to make art you don't want to or don't make art you wanna make. don't force yourself to stop feeling feelings.

you're allowed to feel hurt about "silly numbers on screen". this hurt is valid. don't let it stop you though.

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[stupidlittlespirit]

OKAY BUT SCP FOUNDATION FORD. I feel like young Ford would be absolutely GIDDY to join an organization that he thinks shares his world views and mission- scientifically classifying and studying anomalies. But he would absolutely get fired for being WAY too fucking weird about like everything. He gets too personally invested and obsessed for their liking imo.

I can also see young Ford being weird about anomalous people, who he'd identify with. That's like a thesis in itself, really.

Either way, Ford would get fired and then have a lifelong grudge against them lol

Old Ford would get fired for his general "I know more than you" vibe and be convinced that they fired him out of insecurity.

Dying to hear what head cannons you have for SCP Foundation and Ford 💞

Okay so I have spent way too long thinking about this because I actually wanted to write a fic about it and I’m very devoted to the whole concept in general, so this all applies to the Ford-SCP AU I have in my brain.

I’m so fond of the series. I was often on /x/ as a kid (not the rest of 4chan because, duh) and I would spend hours on it, reading up on greentexts and believing every single fucking word. I desperately wanted to work for the shadowy American governmental orgs that kept these creatures in containment/a secret, and I was devastated when I grew up and found out that they weren’t real. (A part of me holds out hope that they are a real organisation but if America was covering shit up, we’d know because they fucking suck at keeping stuff on the DL).  

Anyway, let’s get into it, and remember that I’m playing fast and loose with everything SCP related because everything is canon and therefore nothing is canon! 

Below is everything from my AU ideas to Ford’s behaviour to fucking SCP/Ford ships because fuck it why not:

I think you’re right: young, starry eyed Ford would be psyched to get to see that kind of thing, but I do think that he’d be too focused on carving out his own path to allow himself to get wrapped up in the government’s red tape. It would be something he enthusiastically pencils into his diary and intends to follow up on, but never does because of how things unfold. 

Post-Portal Ford, however, is going to be The Guy for them. His personal intellect is attractive enough, but Ford has a lot of stuff going for him on top: he’s travelled interdimensionally, he’s spent time in places that would get even 05 Council Members to sit up and take notes, he’s had talks with beings that the Foundation would give their child’s left kidney to be privy to (not that they wouldn’t sell their kid for a bag of magic beans anyway but whatever) and he’s got more than enough knowledge to hit the ground running with minimal (perceived) liability for them. I mean, Bill alone has to be a Keter / Apollyon type object, surely? World ending scenario and all that. 

I think he would still be very personally invested and enthusiastic at that age, too. He would do better at trying to be aware of himself because he’s more conscious of being taken advantage of, but he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to just being a total nerd about it all. 

How does Ford get picked up by the Foundation?

He’d be recruited thanks to his extensive publishing on the weird and wonderful stuff within Gravity Falls (which at some point is also catergorised by the Foundation themselves) and his travels with Stan, and he would be head hunted to work for the Foundation. 

And he’d say no at first, because he’s not going to work for the government, what are you, insane?! He would want nothing to do with them, and Stan, equally, would be wary of them because nothing good ever comes from the Feds, right?  But the Foundation would be persistent and they’d give Ford appetising incentives (funding, support, tools etc) for his own research, so he’d eventually give them an inch because he'd grow to wonder what they might have on offer and they’d then introduce themselves. 

Ford would be wary but as we all know, he’s a curious cat and it doesn’t matter how many times he gets run over, he still wants to know what’s on the other side of the road even if it means weaving between cars with a blindfold on. 

Ford is obviously going to have a vested interest in the anomalies because of his own abnormalities, however I do think he’d be laughed at for even considering himself a ‘freak’ because… well…. Take a look at the guys we’re dealing with here and then say ‘having six fingers makes you weird’ with a straight face. 

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be empathised with by some of them, even by some of the staff, but some of the beings in the SCP universe are so extreme that having six fingers is an easily-overlookable trait. I mean, the reactions would range from “okay, and….?” to “good lord, get a grip, there are real problems out there in the world, man!” to “oh my god that’s cool, he’s just like me fr”. 

Ford would quickly learn that whatever research he’s done/is doing is really nothing in comparison to what the Foundation does. Not that his work is of less value or anything, just that the Foundation is so large and the breadth and scale of their work would be unbelievable to him. He’d still think he knew best in a lot of ways but he’d be willing to listen and learn from the researchers and scientists that he did admire.

However, Ford would definitely manage to piss off every other person on the site he gets contracted to LMAO. Except the scientists he respected, though perhaps even them sometimes. Oh, and the nicer/less serious D-Class personnel, because they’d often remind him of Stanley and he’d be rather grossed out by the process of sacrificing those lesser prisoners to creatures in the name of governmental gain, so he would make an effort to be patient with them where he can. 

Not to mention that he’d kick AWF if he found out how loosey goosey the regulations are around picking prisoners for testing…. We know the Foundation has a habit of taking anyone with a life sentence/death row conviction, but we also know that not every convict is guilty. On top of that, we know they’ll take literally anyone if they really need to get some tests done and they don’t really give a fuck what the D-Class has done. I mean, they’ll take civilians too, so. I don’t think Ford would be okay with that. 

If they’re actually just awful people then he’s not likely going to care as much of course, but sometimes I read/listen to reports with D-Class in them that have just sold drugs or something, and the researcher’s are like yeah fuck it put weed-dealer Greg in the box with the mutated crocodile made out of poisonous spikes and shake it really hard, it’ll be funny! I think that would upset Ford and he wouldn’t be afraid to kick off about it (after all, any of those D’s could have been his brother at one point, right?) 

Staff members:

In terms of working with specific staff members, he’s obviously not going to have much to do with MTF or even any of the agents etc, really. Not unless he would require specific information from them during a test or something. There could be crossover if he was to get pissed off at how poorly executed a field expedition went or something, but I expect that his main area of interaction would revolve around Researchers and Objects themselves. 

Let’s talk about my beloved Dr Bright. I think Ford would have a careful appreciation for Bright. As we know, Bright is a bit nuts. He’s very eccentric and volatile, but very intelligent and good at his job as well as being personally afflicted, what with his brother’s objecti-fication within the facility. Ford would recognise Bright’s appreciation for suicide (bless him, real recognises real) given all of his own personal issues and understand why Bright might be so difficult.  

I do, however, think Ford would also be exceptionally wary of Dr Bright, given the way he’s bound to SCP-963. If you don’t know, 963 is a medallion/necklace and if you wear it you’re immortal. However, it’s tied to Bright and if another person wears it, their mind is basically wiped and replaced with Dr Bright’s. So, it would be very close to possession and for Ford, that would be very triggering, I think. Ford would be amenable with Bright and even appreciative of his work, but he’d be too nervous about 963, even if the likelihood of him being made to wear it was low. 

Next up is another fav: Dr Alto Clef. Now, I think Ford would have a love-hate relationship with Clef. 

Clef is reeeeally smart and very talented. He’s also very eccentric and weird, and is also anomalous himself, so Ford can get behind that. But Clef is also a fucking nightmare. He lies and is gross and unethical (was an awful misogynist, but possibly isn’t anymore? Hard to know for sure because there’s a LOT of information out there and no hard canon), though I don’t think he’s an irredeemable guy. Most notably, Clef has what he refers to as a ‘deformity’. He underwent anomalous alterations that prevent his face from being photographed and gave him resistance to reality shifts. Clef is described in files but you just can’t ever see a photograph of his face.   

Though I think Ford would tire of Clef quite quickly, he’d be willing to give Clef more rope than Bright. I think Clef has a tendency to be kind of jammy and very funny, so I daresay Ford might be fonder of him than he’d let on and he wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable around him as he might with Bright’s 963 issue. Clef is also aroace! Yay!

Clef lies a lot though, so he might be more inclined to kick it with Stan than with Ford in terms of down time lol 

Onto Everett Mann. Dr Mann is said to have always felt like an outcast and he was also manipulated by an entity (Mr Lie) into doing something that put others at significant risk. I think he and Ford would have a kinship with that and they’d be friends. Technically, Clef killed Mann in one AU but whatever. No big deal. I think Mann is really funny and sweet, and he’d get on quite well with Ford. 

Honourable mentions for: 

Dr Elliott - known to be a too involved in the anomalies she works on and often gets fucked up by them because of it.  

Dr Glass, because obviously. We love Dr Glass in this house! I think Ford would always be wary around a psych professional but he’d be thrilled to hear about other SCP’s and understand their ways of thinking. I think Glass would also have a field day with Ford and he’d fill up at least 4 notebooks worth of psych-eval notes on him :) 

And there are more but there are SO many more that I can’t get all of them down here or I’ll be sitting at my PC forever. 

In terms of the actual anomalies that Ford becomes fond of:

Well, we have to start off with my absolute all-time favourite: SCP-507.

I highly recommend checking out Volgun’s video on him because it’s great. Frankly, all of Volgun’s videos are great if you’re interested in learning about SCP’s in a lore accurate way. 

SCP 507 is Ford’s special little guy. Ford LOVES him. Do I ship them? Kinda. That’s my business okay don’t judge me. 

In fact, I believe Ford likes him so strongly that I think when 507 requests a hug from personnel, following a traumatic shift, Ford is the one who grants it to him. I don’t care if the timelines don’t match up, I don’t care about anything that makes that impossible. I want 507 to get a hug and I think Ford gives great hugs. Ford would even volunteer to be his escort if he had the time to spare and I think he’d let 507 hang out in his lab sometimes. 

507 has always broken my heart because he’s so scared and so alone, and they won’t let him leave or really do much of anything. He really has nobody and he has 0 control over everything in his life, and I think that would resonate with Ford a lot. 

He’d be highly interested in SCP-2700 because it’s made by his All Time Fav hot scientist Nikola Tesla. While 2700 isn’t humanoid, I think Ford would be super geeked about it solely because it’s Tesla based haha.

I think Ford would also love SCP-1762 (aka ‘Where the dragons went’), too. I find 1762 to be a really sad story and I think others agree, and Ford would enjoy them. They’re cool (origami dragons fuck yeah) and cute, but also poignant. 

He’d be naturally curious about SCP-096 but obviously, due to its nature, would have to give up the ghost on that one. 

I think Stan would like SCP-1472 aka the Multiverse Strip Club. Naturally. He’d be at risk of wandering in but, respectfully, he ain’t going to Illinois. Not for all the strippers in the world. 

Like Researchers and other personnel, there are SO many SCP’s that I can’t even remember all of the ones I think would be most relevant/enjoyable for Ford so if you have something you think he’d like then please please hit me up because I’d love to talk about it with you!! 

Ultimately, I think Ford would do some great work and make friends with some of the more pleasant scientists, and he would really enjoy himself up until he stopped enjoying himself lol. I think he’d quickly realise how controlling the Foundation is and how they refuse to let anomalies be known to the public, rightly or wrongly, and Ford would refuse to play along with them. 

He’d be vocal about his disagreement with the treatment of some anomalies and with regard to the treatment of personnel, and he’d stand strongly against any corruption, which means he’d never see eye to eye with them. Many such cases, if you take the time to read the entries. 

So, they’d fire him or he’d walk out. You’d never know for sure because Ford would insist he left of his own accord and the Foundation would insist that they [REDACTED] so… It would be a mystery. 

And the Foundation would let him leave, by the way. Their knee jerk reaction would be to terminate him, of course, but he’d leave such an impression on some of the other scientists that they’d somehow manage to convince their higher-ups that Ford offered value that would be lost upon his death, so they should let him live and just try to monitor him instead. 

Ford, being Ford, would sniff out all the monitors every single time they tried to trace him and Stan (with his great knowledge of wire taps) would help him debug their house etc if they needed to. 

Eventually, the Foundation would say fuck it, this guy is annoying as fuck, and let Ford deal with his own containment specialisms while keeping a distant eye on him/Gravity Falls at large. 

….Can you tell this has been on my mind for a while? LMAO I’m so sorry this answer got sooooo out of hand but I love GF and SCP so much that I can’t help myself. I hope that as I get better at drawing I can make some crossover art for them because it would be too cute. Plus, like I said, I’m still considering writing this. I might make a reader one but also do a gen crossover because I think it would be a riot. 

If anyone else wants to make stuff on this then please do but pleeeeease tag me because I need to inject it straight into my veins. 

[imsobadatnicknames2]

You've had many good takes on AI and copyright laws, so I was wondering if I could ask you about your views on plagiarism? I do know how generative AI works (it's not plagiarism). Also, I appreciate the stance that people shouldn't be able to own ideas (the basic foundation of anti-copyright beliefs), but if you don't own ideas, then doesn't that sort of make plagiarism a non-crime? That doesn't seem right to me. Or is it that credit =/= ownership and thus the two are separate things that can coexist where one is bad and the other is good?

Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about something that I've been itching to talk about for a long time hehe. You're on the right track, my stance is EXACTLY that credit =/= ownership.

Copyright infringement is when you reproduce a work or part of a work in a way that was not authorized by its legal owner. It is a violation of ownership. Plagiarism is when you take work or part of a work that was created by the labor of someone else and present yourself as the creator. It is a violation of credit.

Since when it comes to intellectual works I respect the concept of credit but not the concept of ownership, I think plagiarism is universally bad in a way that copyright infringement is not.

I think part of the confusion around this topic comes from the fact that many people tend to conceptualize plagiarism as A Type Of copyright infringement (and afaik it is sometimes legally defined that way although I think that makes no sense for reasons I will explain in the next paragraph) because they often only encounter the term in relation to things that are both plagiarism AND copyright infringement at the same time (to name a high-profile example, what James Somerton did to other youtubers was BOTH plagiarism AND copyright infringement at the same time), so they end up mentally conflating the two terms, and consequently think that when people like me are defending copyright infringement we are also defending plagiarism.

But the way I see it, plagiarism and copyright infringement are two separate concepts. They sometimes overlap, but it's completely possible to have either one without the other. For example, if I were to grab a song from the public domain and claim that I wrote it, I would be committing plagiarism, since I would be claiming credit for work that I didn't make, but I wouldn't be committing copyright infringement, because no one owns the song. Conversely, if I were to burn copies of my CD collection and start selling them (or even just gifting them) to people, while correctly labelling them as the corresponding artist, I would be committing copyright infringement, since I would be copying and distributing the music without the legal owner's permission, but not plagiarism, since I'm not claiming credit for anything I didn't create myself. So at least to me it's an entirely coherent position to unconditionally defend copyright infringement without having that defense extend to plagiarism.

Causing further confusion between copyright infringement and plagiarism is the fact that a lot of people tend to unconsciously conflate the concepts of *creator* and *legal owner*, since they're not aware of how common it is in any professional creative industry for people to not be the legal owners of the stuff they create, and thus end up perceiving any violation of the ip holder's ownership as a violation of the creator's credit. The clearest example I can think of this was earlier this year when the Palworld devs were accused of plagiarizing designs from pokemon. I saw at least a few people say things along the line of "you might think they're sticking it to a big corporation but when they do this they're actually not stealing from nintendo or gamefreak, they're stealing from the hardworking artists who created those designs", which to me came off as completely ridiculous because none of those designs are in any way owned by the creators that made them, they're legally owned by the companies those artists work for.

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing (part two)

This is a continuation of my previous post. Thanks to Tumblr limitations, I had to split it into different parts (trust me, I wish I could've made it just one big post).

PART ONE

This might be long...

He tried to waddle through the trauma of existing as someone as self-loathing as himself.

He denied;

“I didn’t do anything, it was an accident!”

He isolated;

He minimized, often with humour;

“Uh-oh, looks like it sucked all the fun outta you!”

He avoided being vulnerable;

“I DID CARE!”

And felt awkward/uncomfortable when he did end up spilling out his emotions;

“Weeeeeeeell, fuck you!”

Suppressed his emotions;

… Cause they’re blinding and suffocating, and it’s easier to avoid them.

He hated himself and didn’t believe there is anything good about him, despite having changed lives for the better;

And he dipped if he got too close (everything literally burnt down when he tried getting closer, didn’t it);

He often didn’t believe others would hold any endearment for him, even taking it as a joke;

“I destroy everything, everyo— I make everyone’s lives worse!”

And that’s it, really. He believes he’s a pest, a virus, something that can only do harm. While his core self still showed itself from time to time, he was blinded with the trauma of all his wrongdoings. All the people he’s hurt and that, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, made him hurt even more.

Everything he couldn’t look straight in the eye. The death of his mother, caused by him. The hurt of his friend, caused by him. The hurt he’s caused around himself. He couldn’t bear see it, knowing it would break him down. That’s why he avoided it. Thinking about what happened, what he did is suffocating. But that also blinded him from seeing his good deeds too. As usual, we’re more likely to see the negative over the positive.

Blitz picked himself up by the bootstraps as they say, but it didn’t help him, not within himself. So what did help?

I think it started in Oops…

He didn’t wanna be vulnerable, but after so much hurt and things left unsaid, it spilled. It all spilled out and made him into a crying mess right in front of Fizz, cause as much as he tried to act unbothered, he did care (as he said in the episode). He was vulnerable, he explained to Fizz exactly what happened instead of holding it in anymore, he apologized to Fizz. They both learnt what happened.

And the kicker? It paid off! Blitz was finally vulnerable to someone, his former best friend, and Fizz forgave him. He got his dear friend back for this. Not only did he win someone he loves back, but also this came as a punch to those unhealthy beliefs, cause he was vulnerable and it didn’t turn out bad.

We have Ghostfuckers.

After being plagued by his memories, Millie came to his aid. She not only reminded him of a time he actually changed her life for the better, but also confirmed that he indeed cares for Blitz.

Then the moment of truth…

Can’t get anymore raw than the moment when his death was imminent. It’s often in times like this that we people’s raw emotions.

In a moment when even Loona was tearing up at the thought of losing Blitz. When all his friends were already mourning him, crying for him as he was about to lose his life.

And in that moment, when he was sure he was gonna die, he could finally say it…

“I love you, guys”

There was nothing to be lost. He was gonna die and the last thing he knew was that his friends were crying for him, but were safe. He could die happy.

Of course though, he didn’t, as we know. Once he was outside the court room, he was pulled in a sobbing hug by his friends and daughter that were relieved he was okay. Even further proof of being loved. Despite the horrible circumstances, it must be so healing to his heart to have that.

True, unfiltered confirmation of being loved. He is loved. The possibility of someone you love dying shakes you. Loona realized it wasn’t worth pretending anymore - life is so short, especially for low class hellborns.

And probably so did Blitz. He was finally in a happy place. His daughter loved him, his friends loved him. Stolas loved him.

He is loved.

So in the Sinsmas episode, we started seeing so much more of who he once was.

He was goofy,

Attentive,

Listening,

Supportive,

Cheerful,

Encouraging,

Patient,

He looked at potential future,

He was selfless,

Protective,

Kind,

Even romantic.

And he was happy…

That’s not to say he’s completely healed. I think you can never truly heal from something like this, especially the magnitude of what Blitz went through in his life, and his issues can resurface.

But at this point in time, he’s finally in a happy place. He was affirmed, comforted and reassured. He’s content, and that’s the most healed he can be.

His core self is finally seeing the light of day. He is more himself than he’s ever been since that day.

So that was it. I’m sorry if I was a bit messy some places; as mentioned, life is kind of a struggle. Sometimes I feel like my brain is deteriorating or something, lmao, but I wanted to put this together cause I feel like Blitz has such a good, painfully relatable (to me anyway) arc and he’s such a complex character.

My love for Fizz remains the biggest, but I couldn’t deny the love I have for Blitz. He’s just such a good character with such good development. Selfish yet selfless, careful yet careless… So many dimensions.

If you made it this far, thank you! <3

[grinchdelia]

1. Anti-civ does not mean being against medicine. Every culture on the planet practices medicine, and this has been the case for as long as culture has existed. It's true that something like cancer is hard to treat without recent technology, but it's also true that we get a lot more cancer, autoimmune disorders, metabolic issues, etc now. The system that is capable of treating these problems is the same system that causes most of them in the first place.

2. The science thing is more complicated but let's get into what science even is. You can talk about science in the epistemological sense or in the institutional sense. This is definitely something a lot of anti-civ folks would not agree with me on, I'm not going to defend anyone else's opinion here. Speaking personally, my feelings on the scientific method of learning and knowing are messy but I'm not going to toss out empiricism completely. It's good to question beliefs.

Scientific institutions.... are primarily tools of the state. Certainly not all scientists or even the majority spend their time on the kinds of projects I'm talking about. But the reason science as a whole is valued is because it is used to make effective weapons and tools of control. Zooming out a little bit, I don't dislike empiricism itself, but I'm skeptical of the goal of amassing knowledge. This knowledge is part of the wealth of corporate and governmental powers and is far less useful to us than it is to them. Knowledge should be embedded within a living culture, not hoarded to be available as a means.

3. Curious to hear about the good way of making computers? My position is that even if human laborers were happy to work in mines for some reason, the mines would still be doing violence to the land. But for the sake of argument let's say there's a way to do the mining that causes minimal harm to the land. How much work do you think it would take to make one computer ethically? Do you think it would be realistic for very many people to have access to these fantastically complex tools, built in a cleanroom with machines built by machines built by machines built by machines? And again, how much space on our shared earth does this whole apparatus take up?

To be fair, I'd love to not have a phone, so in a better world where I can have a good life without one, that's at least one less that you'd need to make!

4. Which leads me to the basic hypocrisy that anti-civ folks are continually accused of. I actually don't have much of a defense to this one other than that it's difficult to live the life I want to live. I would really really really love to spend most of my time outside or in simply built shelters, never looking at a screen again. I have tried actually and I think the first issue is that it's a goal for a community, not for an individual. The community is by far the most important part and they've been systematically broken. Living alone on foraged food is still just barely possible, but it doesn't resemble the life I dream of. It's only superficially similar. The other point I want to make is that even for a community, it's damn hard to make this work in the world we live in. People are sincerely trying, and often failing, not because it's a bad way to live but because capital and civ culture will not let us. There's also some successes but the success tends to come with a lot of compromise. Still, we gotta keep trying, cause what else can we do?

5. Finally, we get to questions that I think need to be asked and don't have answers I like. How do we get there from here? Billions of people are dependent upon the system we live in functioning well. In short, you are right, there is no way for everyone to transition to non-civilized ways of living. A lot of anti-civ folks don't like to admit that. Some just live in denial and then there's the ones who actually advocate for mass death. Thankfully not that many in my experience but it's still an issue.

I certainly can't speak for anyone else and my views may not be representative of the anti-civ crowd as a whole, it's been so many years since I talked to many other anarchists so I don't know where people are at anymore and I no longer remember a lot from when I was in the scene. But let me try to elaborate a little on where I'm at personally.

I don't see a way for everyone alive now to get out of the machine and not die horribly. But as the godspeed track goes, it's also pretty clear to me that the machine is bleeding to death. It's almost certainly not going stop functioning all at once, but as the decline continues, things are going to get much worse for all of us trapped inside. Meanwhile the land and the waters have been degraded to the point where anyone who tries to escape by "living off the land" is in for a rude awakening. (This completely aside from the basic calculation that not every human would have enough space to feed themselves on our shared earth, even if our ecology was in a better condition.) Not incidentally, colonization of indigenous peoples is ongoing and anyone who remains on their ancestral land is still having to fight back attempts to force them off.

In short, we're pretty fucked. I genuinely do not understand how pro-industrial anarchists or communists think we're going to get out of this one (without mass death). In my opinion it's just as delusional as that section of anti-civ anarchists who are in denial. You can even make similar arguments that if they somehow manage to pull off a revolution, the transition is going to kill a whole lot of people because it's all quite fragile and keeping the machine running smoothly is necessary to forestall immediate catastrophe.

However, I'm actually not that bothered about a hypothetical situation where either pro-industrial ancoms or anti-civ anarchists are in that position. It just doesn't strike me as realistic enough to worry about. I cannot imagine myself ever having to make those sorts of decisions. I'm also not delusional enough to imagine that I could somehow strike at the global industrial system in a way which might bring the whole thing down and thereby cause mass death. Even if I wanted to do that, it's just larping, and I think taking that kind of thing seriously encourages people to develop unhealthy fantasies about something that will never happen. I won't theorize about how anarchists could solve these kinds of issues because it puts us in this mindset that we have to wield absolute power correctly to fix things. That's not how any of this works. The death machine has got us in this horrible position that can not possibly end well, and I can't do anything about that. Obviously don't trust anyone who has ideas about how to design the perfect world for us all to decivilize or whatever, that's completely missing the point and it's depressing how many people do think that way.

So, after all that pessimism, what do I stand for? I just want to live my life. I'd like to say that what I do doesn't have to have a purpose but that's actually not true either. I do feel like I have work to do. I think helping the people in front of me in little ways in really important, but that's not an anti-civ specific thing obviously. Maybe a more relevant thing to add is that we need to put time into the groundwork of living culture. Find ways to relate to other humans and the more than human world, because without that, there's not even a possibility of things being better. A long time ago I used to be all for "tear it down first" but I've more or less done a 180 on that. I live in the USA and right now, if the government and capitalism collapsed instantly for some unforseen reason, almost nobody would be ready to start building a better life. I'm not going to make predictions about the time scale here but I absolutely do believe that global collapse of civilization is happening, and I'm going to live with that in mind. No, it's not possible for everyone to go forage, but there are little things we can do to help heal the places we live. Maybe on the day I'm in need, there will be a fruit on the tree for me in return. The suffering of the world is truly monumental and the good I can do is so small but that makes it feel really important to start working on these things.

Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into some sort of anti-civ perspective, however different it may be from others! There are a lot more people involved in this sort of culture building work than you might think, but you won't hear from most of them since they're out doing the thing. I'm a rare case in that I know some of those people but I'm also online, at least for the moment. Might as well evangelize while I'm here.

Funny thing about that anti civ person is that like. They could just do what folks that live off the grid do, but more extreme. If you hate civilization you’re…allowed to live somewhere else. Hell since they’re so convinced in their own definition of civilization they have even more options! (Though they’ll probably be disappointed to find out first hand their definition was wrong)

I mean in a way I understand. If you truly believe that civilization is the worst thing to happen to humanity and you want the best for humanity, you will even use the tools of civilization to persuade other people to your ideas.

The thing of course is that I don't believe on that and it's so incredibly easy to point out that computers are made by, well, civilization.

I also think that to say "well go live in the woods then" is a bit rude but... honestly, if the anti-civ way of life is more rewarding, we would see more people trying to do it right? We would see people in third-world countries protesting against schools, hospitals, universities, transportation, etc. instead of wanting those, right? But instead you will find, surprisingly, that people want a better life for themselves and those who they love. And this isn't opposed to enviromental stewardship and protection, as it's often the same people who live in those places who also want enviromental protection.

It's often through organized systems, civilization, that people achieve human rights, a good life, and indeed, are able to organize how to protect nature.

It's just completely disconnected from the aspirations of most people.

[beegalactica]

How to be an A* Student in 2025

2025 is the year of THE academic comeback, but it's not just a comeback, it's a full academic GLOW UP. The best part about these tips is that this is not meant to be short-term, this is meant to help you create long-term hot girl habits that will help you year after year after year.

Imagine being a student is like training in the gym: if you want to see long-lasting results, you don't go to the gym for a while and then drop off and get lazy, so why do we see studying as a long-term chore, when it's a long-term privilege?

So many people worldwide dream of having an education, but do we really want to waste it all by scrolling on social media and rotting in bed? I don't think so.

Get organised: Get your notes in order. Turn a subject topic into a cheat sheet or revision booklet. Update your notes after each class. Get your homework out of the way as soon as possible. Create a list of all your topics for each class and rate each topic Red/Orange/Green based on how confident you feel - when it's time to study, start with the red topics.

Create a schedule: If you like things being super organised down to the last detail, try time-blocking and schedule specific time slots to complete your tasks. If you like being more flexible and fluid, set subjects to focus on each day and write a rough to-do list (I set one main task per subject). Make sure you do the subjects that you hate more than you do the ones you like, revising is meant to be uncomfortable, that's how you train your brain and overcome challenges.

Stick to it: Use the Pomodoro technique if you struggle to sit down and start. Start on a 5-minute break to train your brain to slowly stop what you're doing and get started. I would recommend 25/5 repetitions but if you're like me and can deep work for hours with full concentration, do what works best for you but do not end up working for hours without breaks or water. Make sure you take breaks to move around, hydrate and rest your brain and eyes.

Just sit down to start: if you really struggle with procrastination, set up all your work, put your phone away, and just stare at your work - that always gets me to start working because I get bored.

Prioritise long-term gains: Top students focus on studying little and often rather than cramming the night before. This can be 1 hour a day for 5 days prepping for a test vs 5 hours the night before. If you have a period where you don't have any tests right then, but you know you have a long-term exam coming forward, why not spend just 15 minutes to make sure your notes are organised? Always think about the big picture. The topic might not be the most important thing right now, but you know it will be important in the final exam, so if you have some downtime, why not make sure you're confident in it?

Work-life balance: Whilst it's good to be an academic weapon, your social life doesn't have to suffer at the same time. This is why scheduling is so important - it helps you utilise your time efficiently, and limit how much time you waste trying to decide what to study, so you can have more time to spend on things you love. Dedicate 1 hour a day to something you love to do and make sure you do it!

Find what works for you: Experiment with different techniques. Just because one technique works for one subject doesn't mean it will work for another. Just because it works for even just one topic doesn't mean it will work for another. Don't be afraid to switch things up and curate your study habits to suit your tastes. Always remember - the only person it has to make sense for is YOU.

Let me know if you would like more tips or a more in-depth explanation about any of these! I am really passionate not only about education but also about how we can all harness it to become well-rounded people. I have also been a straight A/A* student my whole life so I have many tips to share!