#i was definitely one of those people for a long time

[tousey-mousey]

So, okay.

Plastic is not intrinsically awful. I'm not saying plastics inside you are ideal, but there's a lot of kinds of plastics and there's a lot of ways that plastics can enter your body. The plastics themselves are actually usually largely chemically inert: the issue is that plastics are sometimes capable of holding chemicals on their outsides that can be toxic over time. However, those chemicals do not just come from the plastics themselves (typically), and instead the microplastics need to pick them up FROM somewhere. They normally pick them up from doing things like floating around in the oceans, on road surfaces, or inside machinery.

In these environments, large (macro) plastics can be exposed to chemicals (e.g. pesticides in the water, oil and grease from engines, debris and metals from roads, etc) and then break down into tiny microplastics that are coated in chemicals. If those get into your body, they can leach out of and off of the microplastics and get into your body, which isn't good.

However!

Most of the microplastics in your body do not come from these sources. Actually, only a relatively tiny percentage of them do. The VAST majority of microplastics inside the average human's body come from plastic fibres, which are shed from plastic clothing and other fabrics (usually polyesters); and most of the rest of the microplastics in our body come from trace quantities of packaging plastics (usually PET). These are typically "virgin plastics", non-recycled and not previously exposed to harmful environmental chemicals, and so they're relatively free from dangerous adsorbed ("coated onto") chemicals. So, they can't release harmful chemicals into you because they don't have any.

The plastics themselves aren't good for you, but they're largely not particularly bad for you either. They're mostly pretty inert, or at least minimally active.

Additional points!

Plastics are REPLACING stuff that was also harmful! Metal ions coming off of metal everything wasn't necessarily always good. People act like everything before plastic was like... hardwaring and built to last, but enormous amounts of shit was made of cheap, flimsy metal that rusted to hell and fell apart incredibly quickly, because "built to last" is just a codeword for "overengineered and highly-priced for rich people to buy". When THAT broke apart, it didn't leach small amounts of chemicals into you: it just dumped a spoonful of lead into your colon. Somehow, I think that's not actually better...

Plastics are not automatically environmentally unfriendly. They're also not the best fucking thing ever, obviously. You basically need to pick your material for your task, and recognise why plastics can be a good choice in some cases. For example, we all love cotton and wool clothes, but both sheep and cotton plants are INSANELY water-hungry. They consume MASSIVE amounts of clean, potable, chemically-processed, mechanically-piped water to grow and process. Polyester, on the other hand, is relatively low-water to make and use. It also, definitely, produces fewer greenhouse gases to make... but doesn't last as long, so you'd need more OF it and that adds a multiplying factor to its gas emissions. So whether it comes out as better, worse, or net neutral is really really difficult to determine imo. Basically, whether plastics are more or less polluting or environmentally damaging depends on your priorities. Sheep need grazing pasture to grow wool, which means guaranteed deforestation and monoculture cropping of previously-healthy soil. Polyester needs oil rigs to extract oil, which means potential for massive oil spills that could permanently destroy sections of land but which isn't guaranteed. Like. Pick your poison, and use the right tool for the job.

Plastics should be avoided and worked around where possible, but one reason for that is that we shouldn't be reliant on a petrochemical that MANDATES extracting oil from the ground to make and which encourages shitty waste management strategies of the "stick it in a pile and set it on fire" variety. Microplastics in your body are largely not a huge deal and microplastics in the oceans are much more of a concern.

finding enough plastic in human brains to make a spoon is certainly a shocking headline but I just don't have it in me to be shocked anymore. not only can I see the evidence of spoon brain all around me I can literally feel it in myself

[bitchface24-7]

I dont know if this is a bit much buuuuut.. In your (canon) professional opinion what do you think Silco's top kinks would be :3

I've evolved from Olive Garden I know am in the local Chili's thinking about my baby girl crimelord :))

HIS KINKS - SILCO

synopsis: literally just about Silco’s kinks, 18+ y'all

warnings: kinks obv, explicit sexual content, leave me alone its 2:51am I’m just in a brain rot mood, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Ahhh Melissa my love feral over Silco I see, don't worry me too. Many people love this man and the TRENCHES we were in for liking him back in S1… diabolical. Where was all this appreciation back then??

YOUNG SILCO

Pretty boy to the MAX y'all, he was NOT doing shit in those mines. Maybe he went into tight crawl spaces and ensured the mine itself was safe for the other workers but he was NOT swinging a pickaxe. He was most definitely the eye-candy though.

With that in mind, my man loves praise!!! In all aspects, not only in the bedroom. Tell him he's smart, his ideas are good, he's funny, whatever comes to mind; he'd want to hear about it.

Like his hair pulled, there's a reason why it's so lushious and long.

Definitely a switch. When he gets jealous and possessive his more dominant traits come out, when he's had a rough day, he just wants to be taken care of.

Dirty talk galore, like omfg SHUT UP 😩

Very teasing. Like oops sorry didn't mean to put my hand between your thighs as we’re talking to our friends. My bad. Don't make a sound, wouldn't want them to know, right?

Likes taking his time with you when he's able but loves a good quickie. The Brothers and Sisters of Zaun are constantly on the move and working, it’s hard to find time for anything else.

This leads to semi-public sex, like if there's time, and there's an empty supply room or closet, get ready y'all. He's gonna rock your shit.

Very big on reciprocating. You go down on him, he'll go down on you

Likes marking you up with some hickeys and light bruises. Can't help but smirk whenever someone points them out and you try to hide them.

Likes noise. How loud can he make you get before you try to hide it? Even then, he's pinning your hands above your head so you can't muffle those sweet sounds. He's working hard, he wants to hear them.

Intercrural sex (thigh fucking) is a big one. His dick in between your thighs, you riding his thigh, anything that can get y'all of quick and easy.

Mutual masturbation. He wants to see how you look coming apart before y'all got together and kept imagining him in dirty ways.

Enjoys getting marked up himself.

Knows you've got a thing for his hands and uses it against you.

Same thing with his voice.

Overall very sweet, loving, but very fun!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

OLDER SILCO

Still very attractive but not in such a pretty way. Much more sharp and intimidating.

Much more into the BDSM scene compared to when he was younger. Leans much more into being dominant since it’s much harder to gain his trust, so it’s much harder to get him to be submissive (he still wants to be taken care of sometimes)

Bondage. His silk ties, handcuffs taken from enforcers, your own clothes. Sometimes Silco wants to pleasure you and isn't in the mood for you to touch him in return, and he knows passion overtakes critical thinking. So bondage works in his favour.

Spanking. Especially if you've been bad. You didn't listen to him, you made him look like a fool, you almost got hurt, you almost got killed. Its a physical form of being reprimanded. But if you beg sweetly enough he’ll do it when you're being good.

Marks. Oh my god the marks he leaves behind. Hickeys, bruises, rashes from the cuffs or ties, maybe even a little bit of knifeplay. He's always been possessive, he's always left his mark on you, but now it’s over the top.

Semi-public sex but this time it’s mainly his office and the windows overlooking Zaun. If people see, oh well. Now everyone will know for sure you're his.

Lingerie. Especially in his colours of red, black, gold, and white. Some days he tears it off, others he makes you keep it on. Doesn't matter if you're a man or a woman, it’s like opening a gift, and savouring the wrapper.

Overstimulation. You're done when he says you're done. Even if your legs are shaking and you're gasping for breath, he wont stop until HE’S satisfied.

Dirty talk again. A mix of degradation and praise. Coming off a bit teasing and snarky, but it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Medical play? I can see him getting aroused if you have to do the dose for his eye and you're WAY too close to him, you're sitting on his lap, he's smelling your signature scent, you're rubbing up on him, your chest is in his face. Y'all he's done for.

Still uses his hands and voice against you.

He enjoys smoking a cigar, looking over paperwork, as you suck his cock under his desk. On that note, also enjoys cockwarming.

He likes it when you're sweet, but adores it when you're bratty. He gets to put you in line.

Not a fan of the daddy kink, it makes him think of Jinx. He prefers Sir, even sometimes Boss in the right circumstances.

Overall the vibe is similar. He's still somewhat sweet, he does love you, and its still very fun. He's just hardcore traumatized now.

Hope y'all enjoyed my interpretation of what Silco likes in the bedroom LMAO, if y'all have any ideas or want to freak out in the comments or reblogs, be my guest. I'm more than willing to do this for other characters as well ❤️

[edamameimei]

11:11 with you

"And maybe I think that it might be forever"

pairing: megan skiendiel x reader

synopsis:

Being in love with Megan Skiendiel is a lot harder than it sounds. 

You could, however, list a million reasons why it’s also the easiest god damned thing to do, to fall in love with her.

But throughout the years of knowing the Chinese girl, well, it has definitely proven to be really fucking difficult to be in love with your best friend.

mostly fluff! gets kind of angsty near the end, but it has a happy ending i promise. CW: underaged drinking, kissing.

a/n: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only.

wc: 4927

now playing: heaven by maude latour

The first few instances of this shows itself when she basically begs to try a new makeup technique on you, calling you her “test dummy.” 

(“Get it? I’m testing it on you and you’re also a big ole’ dummy”

“Thank you Megan, very cool.”)

That’s how you find yourself being a willing participant in her shenanigans as she situates herself right in front of you with her fingers underneath your chin as she applies an outrageous color of lip liner on your lips. But the way she looks at you with such care, how her own lips are parted as she concentrates on perfecting the technique, no one could ask you for the color of anything because the only thing you see is Megan Skiendiel. With her stupid giggle and stupid dimples that are shaped like whiskers. 

Seriously, how can someone look this perfect?

After a couple of more minutes like this, she pulls away from you and puts the cap of her lipstick back on with a click. She turns around and grabs her mirror, handing it to you. She smiles and you notice it has a hint of nervousness to it. It confuses you sometimes, how unsure of herself she can be in different situations. You sometimes catch her looking at you, as if asking for some sort of reassurance that she was good. And it takes everything in you in those moments to not be honest about your feelings.

You look at yourself in the mirror, happy with what Megan has done. You’re not a makeup person by any means, but you are impressed with the work she has done despite only having seen it once or twice on TikTok. You put the mirror down and you see her looking down at her lap, anxiously biting her lip to hear what you have to say. Without thinking, you lean over, kissing her cheek gently. When you pull away, you giggle at how wide her brown eyes are. She has your lipstick stain on her cheek and you have to hold yourself back from leaving more all over her cute, stupid face. Instead, you place a hand on her shoulder, your eyes full of sincerity. “I love it, Megs. I think I’m eating right now…” The response causes her to laugh loudly and she launches herself at you, hugging you with all the strength she has, which is surprisingly, a lot. You hug her back and you can’t help but think about how cooked you truly are, being in love with your best friend. 

The most inconvenient you find your feelings to be is when she has to be away for long periods of time due to her schedules. 

Not only is being in love with a Global Popstar a thing you struggle with, but also being her best friend comes with its own issues and obstacles. 

This presents itself after a particularly long day of classes and you wish you could at least just call the girl to vent about it. However, you knew Megan would be busy all day filming this and filming that and oh! To also record for this thing she is also doing. You guess she wasn’t kidding when she revealed in her Cosmopolitan interview how it’s not just romance that’s hard to keep up with, but also friendships. When you first read the interview, you couldn’t help but feel a sting to your chest. It made the situation at hand a little too real. It gave you a reality check that you have tried to deny for so long. But as you trudge into your apartment, bags under your eyes, and the weight of your bookbag being a little too much, you begin to realize that Megan might be right. 

Because fuck, you really need your best friend right now. 

You don’t even make it into your room once you walk inside, opting to lay on the couch instead because you just need to be horizontal. You check your watch and realize you only have an hour before you need to get up for your next class that is in a building that is conveniently placed on top of what seems to be the highest point in Los Angeles. 

You know that’s an exaggeration. But when you’re a college student in a walkable city, nothing feels overly exaggerated. That’s truly how it is. 

You take your phone out of your pocket and tap on the Instagram app, wanting to mindlessly scroll and brain rot for a few minutes. The first post that shows up however is the girl that you have been, annoyingly, thinking about since you woke up this morning. It was of her getting ready for one of her many shoots. It still takes you by surprise to see her in this element. Whenever you see the girl in person, she is always wearing one of your sweaters and a pair of sweatpants. The makeup that would adorn her face would either be nonexistent or was something she had on all day and was just too lazy to take off before coming to see you. But her Instagram posts were always something to behold. 

Something that would cause you to stare for a lot longer than you should. 

But right now, with the way your heart aches just to hear the girl’s voice, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bitter over her most recent post. You swipe out of the app and go to your messages. The good morning text you sent this morning still has gone unanswered and for some reason it sends you into a spiral in your mind. The crush you have on Megan Skiendiel is such a waste of time. 

It’s 7 PM when you finally, finally finish with classes for the day and the one thing you want more in this world is just to sleep. All the homework and projects assigned be damned for one night. The campus library was already calling your name and you knew you would had to have answered it some point this week. The moment you walk into your apartment, you drop your bookbag onto the floor next to the door and make a beeline towards your room. You don’t even change out of your outside clothes before plopping onto your bed with a sigh, but you quickly jump when you hear a loud “ow!” come from underneath you. You sit up, wide eyed as you see a lump move around underneath your covers. 

The lump pops out, revealing to be Megan. The first thing you notice is her hair. No longer ginger, but back to the dark hair she had when you two first met. When things were more simple. When things felt a little less hard. You notice the pink in her bangs and at the ends of her hair and you watch as her face falls slightly when she sees you staring at her new look. She unconsciously moves her hands to her hair, playing with the tinges of pink. Your eyes soften, realizing she might have started feeling insecure. You scoot closer to her, reaching over to touch the pink that dyes her bangs. You tilt your head, any past negative thoughts about your relationship with Megan immediately leaving as you look at your best friend. 

You whisper, quietly, “you’re so beautiful.” 

As always, when you compliment her, she wraps her arms around you. She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, mumbling a “thank you,” as she holds you tightly. You wrap your own arms around her, resting your chin on top of her head as you rub her back gently. You notice at some point, she might have raided your closet again because she is currently wearing one of your sweaters. You’re about to make fun of her for it, make a comment about how she already has a million of your sweaters, but she whispers into your neck, her breath felt against your skin. “I’ve missed you all day… All I wanted to do was talk to you…” 

For some reason, her words hit you a lot harder than you anticipated. 

Because, at the end of the day, Megan is still Megan. Your best friend. Your person. 

Being in love with your best friend always finds itself to be difficult when others catch onto your feelings. Especially her groupmates. 

It’s only natural for them to be observant of your friendship with the girl, it would only make sense. The other five girls spend every waking moment with each other, it would be surprising if they didn’t have a single idea when it came to how you felt about their Chinese member. But it still catches you off guard when one day, while Megan went out to grab something for dinner for you two to share that night, the girls sit you down in their living room to set up what could only be deemed an “intervention.” They presented it at first as a quick game of Mario Kart or Overcooked, but once you make yourself comfortable on the couch, the girls sit around you, expectant looks in all their eyes. 

“Um… Hi?” You say, placing one of the Switch controllers down onto the coffee table in front of you. Lara smirks at you and you just know where this was going. You try to get up, making an excuse to go to the bathroom, but Manon grabs your leg. She gives you a look as if to say, “be so serious.” You sigh, knowing you’re in for a very long talk. 

“You and Megan have been friends for a while…” Sophia starts with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her statement causes you to shrug, looking away to avoid her eyes. “Yeah.. She’s my best friend…” Daniela raises an eyebrow and speaks up, “is it… Just that?” 

You let a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of your head. You shrug again. “I mean… Yeah… What else would it be?” Lara scoffs at your response, placing a hand on your knee and looking at you with a serious look in her eyes. “What else would it be, Y/n?” 

And you don’t know what to say because she’s right. What else would it be? That awful feeling in your chest whenever you see Megan, whenever you see a text from her, or whenever you simply think about her during a boring lecture? What other explanation is there for the way you look at the Chinese girl when you’re together doing something as simple as just talking about your days or how one of your exams went? 

There is no use in denying it because all of the signs were there; you’re in love with Megan. 

The way you look down at your lap, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, tells the girls all they needed to know. The front door opens and you snap your head up to see Megan with the bag of takeout for the two of you. She smiles widely upon seeing you, placing the bags on the counter before running over to you with her arms outstretched. She jumps onto you, effectively causing you to lay back onto the couch as she lays ontop of you, arms wrapped around you. She nuzzles her face into your neck, sighing in content. You look over at the girls who are still looking at you. Their faces hold a knowing look and you glare, silently telling them to shut up. There is no possible way you could tell Megan how you feel. And to risk losing her this close to you? Not a chance.

Competing with the whole world for her attention is another thing that you find yourself tripping over, especially when Megan begins to become friends with more well-known influencers and songwriters. 

You are just a person she met at a random Los Angeles party a few years back. The party was held by a mutual friend and the only thing the friend could tell you about Megan was that she was an amazing dancer. And looking back on it now, your friend really underestimated her words because holy fuck there is more to Megan than what your friend lead on that night. 

But now, her contacts are filled with well-known people from all parts of Los Angeles. She knows big named people, people who could be recognized in the streets. Sometimes, she’d tell you about a party that she’s attending and how insert celebrity would be there. 

You’re not jealous by any means. One, there’s no real reason to be because Megan is just a naturally kind person who loves to make friends with everyone. It’s not surprising how easy it is for people to want to flock to the Chinese girl. She’s alluring and quite down to Earth. Her personality is so big and unique that it only takes a couple of words to fall in love with her. 

You, from personal experience, would know that. 

And two, you don’t have the right to be jealous of the people Megan hangs out with. You’re only her best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

But one night, she invites you to a party being thrown by one of her best friends from Dream Academy. She tells you how there would be some celebrities coming and some of the other Dream Academy contestants. It gives you anxiety, meeting all of these new people when you’re just a regular college student, but who could say no to an invite like this? You’d be crazy to turn it down. 

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the couch inside of a stranger’s house, sipping on a drink that was made by Daniela and slightly overstimulated by the loud music playing all throughout the house. You were never a huge party person, only ever going out every once in awhile with your own friends from your university. But the vibes this time around felt different and you aren’t really sure if it’s because it’s Megan’s friends or you’re just really fucking awkward around new people. 

At some point, Megan was pulled away by her old Dream Academy friends, leaving you alone on the couch while awkwardly sipping on the concoction that was currently in your cup. You���re about to get up to find Daniela or Lara but someone decides to sit next to you, ending your moment of isolation. You recognize the girl to be Danielle Marsh, one of the new up and coming artists in the Los Angeles pop music scene. You’ve seen her on TikTok a couple of times and you’re pretty sure she has hung out with the Katseye girls once or twice. The awkwardness you felt prior grows, especially when she extends her hand towards you. She smiles at you widely. “Danielle.” You nod your head, grabbing her hand to shake it gently. “Y/n…” She smiles even wider and lets go of your hand. She looks at you with a small, teasing smile. “You looked like you could use some company.” Her comment causes you to chuckle and you nod, not even trying to hide how silly you looked alone on the couch. “Yeah… I appreciate it.” A conversation between you two ensues and you find it very easy to talk to Danielle. 

She’s funny, pretty, and her accent is very nice to listen to. You’re not sure how long you and her talk for, but at some point, her hand finds a spot on your knee and stays there for the remainder of the conversation. Everytime you make her laugh, she pushes your shoulder playfully, leaning in close every once in a while so you can hear her response over the loud music. You’re in the middle of telling her a story when Megan shows back up, two cups in her hands and an expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. She looks at Danielle with a small smile. “Hey! Can I talk to Y/n real quick?” She doesn’t even wait for the other girl to respond, quickly setting down the drinks in her hands before pulling you up from the couch. 

Megan pulls you outside towards the back patio and you are immediately welcomed by the cool air after being in such a warm environment for so long. It’s relaxing until Megan lets go of your hand and looks at you with an unreadable expression. You look at her, a curious look in your eyes. “Are you okay?” She crosses her arms and avoids your eyes. “You looked really cozy with Danielle.” For a moment, you couldn’t tell if the reply was more of a statement or a question. You heard a chuckle behind her words, but you couldn’t help but notice a bite to them. As if she was accusing you of something. But you shrug it off, blaming it on what could be the alcohol you consumed earlier. You look at Megan and try to lighten the mood with a playful tone. “Yeah? You think we were vibing?” You bump your shoulder with Megan’s and she only rolls her eyes in response, keeping her arms crossed. 

“I guess you could say that…” Her voice is quiet and your playful energy is immediately replaced with concern. You place a hand on her shoulder and frown. “What’s wrong?” Megan shrugs you off and now you know for a fact that something must be really wrong because when has she ever pushed away any form of physical contact? You look at her, your brows furrow in confusion. Megan continues avoiding your eyes as she speaks, “I didn’t think she was your type…” The statement causes you to raise an eyebrow. “I mean… I don’t know. She’s cute.” Megan nods, her expression still unreadable and it drives you crazy. You don’t know why it feels so weird to be around Megan right now, it’s never weird. 

You look down at your feet, biting your lip. “Is that a problem? That I find her cute?” It’s silent. Megan doesn’t respond right away, just standing in front of you with her arms crossed. When you look back up, you see a small pout on her lips and it takes everything in you to not kiss it off of her. You’re not sure why your best friend is so upset and you hate to think you’re the reason behind it even if you don’t know why you would be. However, Megan’s response to your question makes your heart ache. It makes your lip tremble and for some reason, you want to runaway and cry. 

Because, of course, you’re met with reality once again. 

“Why would that be a problem? We’re not dating or anything.” 

Megan Skiendiel has never fallen in love someone before in her life. 

She has had crushes here and there. She has a set of working eyes, of course she has found many people attractive. But when she meets you. 

Oh, she is smitten. 

It’s not a big deal at first. Like many of her crushes in the past, she made it her mission to get to know you. Once you two exchanged numbers at that fateful party, there was never a day where you two weren’t talking. She always made an effort to talk to you, always sending you memes or selfies of herself throughout the day. She made sure to ask how you’re doing and always asked about your day. Throughout these little text conversations, Megan found herself needing more. Texts and phone calls weren’t ever enough, she needed your presence. 

First, it starts with asking if you wanted to go on a late night drive. 

She is basically jumping up and down for joy in the Dream Academy dorms when you first accepted the invitation, nearly tripping over herself to get her shoes on. Soon, those drives turned into a weekly tradition with either you or her driving. She wouldn’t admit it, but she loved when you offered to drive. She often loved being your passenger princess, admiring you from the passenger seat and adoring the way your features would become illuminated by lamp posts you’d drive by. This tradition evolved into her coming over to your apartment every once in a while just to hang out.

She loves watching you work on assignments for school. You would sit in front of your laptop on your bed, writing things down in your notebook. She would watch the way you push up your glasses on your face sometimes, finding your furrowed brows to be adorable in every single way possible. She loves that you don’t shy away from her touchy personality, always needing to be close to you. If you take too long studying, she would scoot closer to you just to wrap her arms around your waist. Her head would rest against your back and that would be enough. 

When her crush on you begins to evolve into something much more, she tries her best to be less than subtle with how she feels. 

She would constantly shower you with affection, always complimenting you and giving you gifts from the places she’d travel to. She loves to steal your sweaters and wear them to practice because it’s as if you’re right there with her, even on the hardest days. Megan desperately wanted you to see her the way she saw you. At some point, she started to post photos on Instagram solely for you to comment on. If she did her hair a certain way that day and she knew you complimented her on it in the past, there would be a million selfies of herself in her phone with that hairstyle because she knows you like it. 

She loves even after her debut, you are still a constant in her life. These days, you’re almost always at the Katseye house, your absence more unusual than anything. And that’s why, after the party you two attended, and you haven’t been seen at the house in weeks, Megan begins to have a sickening feeling in her chest. After that night, she couldn’t help but notice a change in your behavior. You aren’t answering her texts as quickly and everytime she tries to call, you come up with excuse after excuse. It drives Megan crazy and for the first time since realizing it, she begins to understand just how hard it is to be in love with your best friend. 

So, when Megan has had enough of you avoiding her, she decides to take matters into her own hands. 

It’s 2 AM and you wake up to banging on your front door. You sit up, your heart beating out of your chest and very afraid because what the hell? You scramble out of bed, clumsily grabbing your glasses off of your nightstand and trying to find the baseball bat you keep tucked away behind your bed just in case. You grip it tightly as you tiptoe out of your room, looking around to make sure the assailant hasn’t found their way into your apartment. As you get closer to the door, you hear the banging again and it causes you to jump. You mumble a curse under your breath, leaning up to look into your peephole. You widen your eyes when you see Megan standing there looking rather pissed off. 

You place the baseball bat next to the door and unlock it quickly. When you open the door, the words you originally prepared to say become stuck in your throat when you are face to face with how upset Megan looks. It’s an emotion she has been feeling for the last two weeks and you had no idea because you’ve been avoiding her. And she knows you’re avoiding her because when Megan texted you the day before, asking to go on a late night drive, you left her message on read and proceeded to post on your Instagram story. 

So yeah. Megan was fucking furious. 

You look at Megan, the sleep still evident in your eyes. You wipe your eyes when you notice how red Megan’s eyes are and your heart drops when you begin to realize that you could very much be the reason for it. You open your mouth to say something but Megan beats you to it, immediately stepping into the apartment. Her lips are trembling and she knows her voice is shaking but she doesn’t care— she just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

“What’s your problem?” She speaks softly, but the hard look in her eyes tells you everything. Megan is upset with you. Megan knows there’s something going on and you can’t runaway this time. You’ve been cornered and you know this could be the end of everything. You feel like the world is going to end. You’re going to lose Megan and you can’t do anything about it.

You take a sharp breath and look down at your feet. There’s a silence between the two of you. When you look up, you see Megan crying and it breaks your heart even more. Since the Chinese girl came into your life, you swore you would do everything in your power to make sure she is happy. You would do everything to make sure Megan gets everything she deserves because she is just so… good. She is the good that the world needs. She is everything and more and you do not deserve her in the slightest. 

So, without another second thought, you kiss her. If this would be the last time you would ever see Megan, you would want her to know that at least one person in this world loves her unconditionally. Someone in this world knows her completely, through and through. You kiss her as if to tell her you know her favorite color, you know her favorite songs, you know how she prefers her coffee in the mornings and how she still sleeps with her stuffed animal that was given to her from her mother when she was just a baby. 

But what you don’t expect is the way Megan wraps her arms around you, pulling you close. You don’t expect the way Megan responds, kissing you back. She kisses you and silently tells you that she also knows your favorite color, she also knows your favorite songs, she knows what type of flowers you like and she also knows you like the back of her own hand. You feel Megan grip your shirt as if you would be the one to disappear. And you find it so ridiculous because why is Megan worried about something so silly, something so absurd. Why would you ever leave Megan? After all this time? 

You pull away, looking at Megan. You search for any discomfort in her eyes but you only see them twinkling with happiness. You watch as Megan giggles, looking away shyly and it makes your heart burst with affection. Your worries disappear when Megan doesn’t make a move to pull away. She stays in your arms as if it’s where she has always belonged. You speak first, your voice slightly shaky. 

“I really like you. Like, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” 

Megan bites her lip at your words and it only causes her to giggle more. You pull her closer, leaning your head down to bury your face in the girl’s shoulder. You mumble, “why are you laughing?” Megan shakes her head, running her hand through your hair. She whispers, her voice full of so much love that it overwhelms you completely. 

“I’ve… Had the biggest crush on you for so long…” 

You kiss her again as if your life depended on it. The sigh that escapes her lips, the way her hands tangle in your hair makes falling in love with your best friend a little more worth it.

While being in love with Megan Skiendiel is hard, being in a relationship with her makes up for it completely. 

You sit at her desk, scrolling through your TikTok as you wait for the girl to get done getting ready for the date you two planned earlier this week. You look up at your girlfriend and you can’t help the smile on your face when you think about just how lucky you are. 

You don’t even care how lovestruck you look in this moment. All Megan is doing is her makeup and to you, it’s the most riveting thing you could watch. She notices you staring through the mirror and it causes her to giggle softly, turning around as she applies her lipstick. She looks at you with an amused expression. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” You roll your eyes at her statement, getting up from the chair to walk over to her. You place your hands on her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder as you watch her continue getting ready. 

She smiles warmly at you through the mirror and leans down, kissing your forehead. When she pulls away, she covers her mouth to stifle her giggles. You look in the mirror to see a very present lipstick mark and it causes you to smile goofily. You pick your head up, tapping your cheek expectantly. “I think you missed a spot…” Megan rolls her eyes in response, grabbing the collar of your shirt to bring you closer, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. 

Before she pulls away, she kisses your face two more times and leaves a quick peck on your lips before smiling at you with that sweet smile and her sweet whiskered dimples. “So… I saw Danielle commented on your recent on Instagram…” 

“Megan, are you forreal?”

a/n: hiii just wanted to drop a megan au bc why not. i'm currently working on a pt. 2 for 'do i wanna know' so that will be coming sometime soon. as always, would love to hear ur thoughts and requests are open! hope u all enjoyed this as much as i liked writing it <3333

[eelliotss]

— Borrowed time, part 2

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst! Maybe some suggestive content.

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“As much as he was lost in his fantasy, you were lost in yours.”

word count = 5.3k

The story was getting too long so I had to cut it here. I wasn’t able to get to the part I wanted to write the most 😭 Anyways, thank you so much for the love for part one. I dont know if this will be what people are expecting, but here’s part two!

Part 1

Sunlight nudges your eyelids, casting faint golden lines across the sheets. The distant hums of birds drift through the open window, soft and unintrusive. You nuzzle your head deeper into the pillow, pulling the blanket closer to yourself, chasing the last traces of warmth, the remnants of a fading dream.

Your fingers twitch against the fabric, pressing into the wrinkled sheets where someone else had just been hours ago. The presence of his weight, his warmth, his scent still lingers.

Your eyes flutter open—slow, reluctant—only to be greeted by the same usual scene, an inevitable reality.

An empty bed. A hollow space where his warmth was.

You—alone, on one side of the massive bed with an empty space beside reserved for his embrace. You—alone, pushed to the edge, as if the night had already decided for you where you belonged.

The scenes of last night slowly return.

•

The sharp, electrical beep of your lock rang through your room, quickly followed by a soft twist of the doorknob and the slow creak of the door swinging open. The scent of his faint cologne—that same warm amberwood and spiced vanilla, a scent that brings you so much comfort as much as it guts your insides out—woven with the sharp bite of alcohol slowly filled your space.

He stepped inside.

Uninvited. But he never needed an invitation, did he?

His footsteps were slow, unsteady, the weight of exhaustion—or maybe something deeper—dragging him down. You didn’t have to turn to know he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, like the world had finally let him breathe.

You’d like to think it was because he found peace in your space.

Your space.

And then, the bed dipped.

Warm fingers brushed against your skin. A touch so light, so fleeting, that you could almost believe it was an accident.

“Yn,” he whispered into your ear. A whisper so low you could’ve missed it as a breath.

“I know you’re still up.”

Your stomach tightened.

It was one of those nights again.

For a second—just a second—you considered keeping still. But he was almost like gravity. You couldn’t get away, no matter how much you want or try to.

You slowly, cautiously, rolled over, your gaze meeting his.

His face was half-lit by the dim glow of the city slipping through the window, his features softened by the kind of exhaustion that sat deeper than just the body.

His eyes searched yours.

For what, you didn’t know. Perhaps you didn’t want to know.

He was close. Close enough that the scent he carried clung to the air between you. Close enough that even in the dark, you could see the way his lashes cast soft shadows over his cheekbones. Close enough to see his shaky breaths.

He always looked at you with those hazy eyes on nights like these. Those violet orbs peered through you, unfocused. It’s a look you learned to despise, one you realized he was looking but not seeing you.

His arm wrapped around your waist, firm and sure. The heat of this body sank into yours, his breath soft.

His fingers ghosted over your skin, tracing slow, deliberate paths up your body. His hand found its place on your chin.

A light tilt—gentle, almost careful.

Your breath hitched.

No matter how many times this happened, no matter how many nights he came to you like this—he never failed to unravel you. Never failed to make you feel like this—like an uncontrollable mess, caught between wanting him and knowing better.

His lips moved against yours, slow, deliberate, consuming. Soft. Too soft. Like a secret, a hesitation, like something that wasn’t meant to happen but was happening anyway.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, grasping for something—anything— to keep you grounded as his warmth enveloped you. His hand slid down, brushing along the line of your jaw and settling at the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Heat flared through you as he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as his lips moved down your jaw, trailing lower, lower—

And then he bit down.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as his teeth pressed into your skin, that same damn place he had always known was your weak spot, not enough to hurt, but enough to brand.

He soothed the bite with the heat of his mouth, tongue gliding over the mark he left behind before pulling you impossibly closer.

He mumbled something incoherent against your skin, his voice low, rough, lost in his own mind and the intoxication of your warmth on him.

No conversations really took place on nights like these.

His fingers dragged down your spine, slow and deliberate, knowing, like he’d done it too many times before.

Like he knew you wouldn’t stop him.

And god—you didn’t want him to.

Not when he kissed you like this, when his hands wandered, claimed, and possessed.

And when he pulled back just slightly—lips barely brushing against yours—

You chased him.

Through the shared night, the shared heat and pleasure, the shared intimacy—you heard him whisper.

“Michaela.”

The first time you heard it, you almost thought you were imagining things.

A trick of the mind. A slip of exhaustion. A moment of overthinking creeping in.

But then you heard him say it again.

And again.

Over and over again.

Between his grunts and breaths, between the quiet murmurs against your skin, between the moments where his body sought yours with something that almost felt like desperation, he said her name.

His eyes were half-lidded, his mind gone, lost in the haze of desperation, exhaustion, and longing.

For MC.

For Michaela Carter.

For her.

It has always been her.

You should push him away. His touch should be revolting on your skin. Her name leaving his lips should bring bile up to your throat. Rage should burn through your veins, violent and unrelenting, until the mere thought of him sickens you. You should want to hold him at gunpoint, press the barrel to his temple, dig it in deeper—watch as those eyes that never truly saw you rip apart under your finger’s pull.

But his lips were on your skin. His hands were on your body. His warmth wrapped around you, consumed you, swallowed you whole.

And God.

As much as he was lost in his fantasy—

You were lost in yours.

•

The weight of last night finally settle in—heavy, but familiar. A burden you’ve carried before, one that no longer surprises you, yet still manages to sink deep into your bones.

However, you can’t help replaying the sound of his voice calling for her, like an echo that won’t fade, a whisper that claws at the edges of your mind. Even in the silence and the absence of his warmth, the ghost of his voice remains—woven into the sheets, imprinted onto your skin, haunting you in ways you wish it wouldn’t.

You decide to roll over, pulling the blanket higher, eyes squeezing shut as if you could will yourself back into sleep—a brief escape from the weight pressing into your chest.

But peace never comes easy.

A series of sharp chimes pierces through the quiet, your phone vibrating restlessly against the nightstand. Each notification a demand, a disruption, a tether dragging you back to reality.

You groan, burying your face into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets. Maybe if you ignore it, it’ll stop. Maybe if you hold still—

A shrill ring of a call cuts through the air, louder, more persistent than before.

You flinch.

A deep breath. A slow exhale.

With reluctance, you reach for the phone, fingers curling around the device, eyes barely open as you glance at the name flashing across the screen.

MC.

You glide your finger to the green button, slowly bringing the phone up to your ears.

“Yn! What are you doing today?” her voice loud, brimming with energy.

You are slow with your reply, sleep not completely gone from you. “Nothing, really.”

“What about for the rest of the week? Are you going anywhere during the break?”

You hoped to sleep in, rot in your bed and drown in your sleep during the short break. After all, the exams last week took years off your life.

“Not really… I planned to rest a bit.”

“Oh my god thats perfect!” her voice is too excited for your liking. A bad feeling boils up in your stomach.

“Yn… Actually…” she trails.

“Just spit it already. What do you want?” you ask, suspicion creeping into your voice.

“You remember that film project I was invited to join… right?”

“Yeah… Why?”

“Basically… one of the actresses can’t make it, and my friend is going nuts! So… I kind of really need someone to fill in…” she explains.

“No,” you almost snap.

“Please! The role will fit you perfectly! We’ll be shooting at the beach for a few days, so think of it as a vacation!” she begs.

“No.”

“Please!” she cries.

“No-“

“C’mon shortcake!” a voice chimes in. “I’ll be there too. Don’t you want to go on a trip with us?”

Your breath stills.

Of course, he’s there. Of course.

“You? Filming?” you scoff.

“I mean… pipsqueak here wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t agree to this.” His tone is all lazy charm, dripping with something that makes your stomach churn. “You really gonna make me suffer through this without you?”

A snort leaves your lips before you can respond.

Suffer? What a joke.

MC’s voice rushes back in before you can respond. “Yn, please! We’ll be filming for a few days, and then we’ll have the rest of the time to just relax. It’ll be fun, I promise!”

“I already said no—“

“You haven’t even heard the best part,” MC interjects. “Guess who else is coming?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up from the bed. “If you’re about to say some actor or influencer, I really couldn’t care less.”

“No, no.” You can practically hear the grin in her voice. “It’s someone new. He’s real popular. All the girls fawn over him, but he’s really difficult to spot! I don’t even know how my friend managed to make him agree to this!”

“Not interested—“

“PLEASE!” MC cries.

You hesitate.

The thought of spending days watching Caleb and MC be… them, under the golden glow of the sun, their laughter tangling in the waves—

it sounds like hell.

“I’d like to go to the beach with you,” Caleb says flatly.

While it did not carry the same warmth nor the sincerity you hoped, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

Your pause was quickly followed by a sharp exhale. Leaning back against your pillow, you answer: “…Fine. But if this turns out to be a waste of my time, I’m leaving early.”

MC cheers on the other end. “You’re the best! You won’t regret it! I’ll send you all the details.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, rubbing your temple, already wondering if this is the worst decision you’ve made all month.

Caleb’s voice hums through the speaker one last time, satisfied.

“See you soon, shortcake.”

And the call ends.

You let the phone drop onto your chest, staring at the ceiling.

You savor the stillness of your space, the peace and quiet returning. Maybe this will be the last time you’ll feel peace in a while.

It’s for the beach. For MC. Not for him.

Never for him.

•

“Yn! Wake up, we’re here!” MC’s voice cuts through the haze of sleep, bright and unbothered, like sunlight streaming through a crack in a closed curtain. You groan, shifting in your seat, reluctant to open your eyes.

A soft breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the scent of salt and something sweet. The sound of waves pulses steadily in the background, rhythmic. You blink against the brightness, groggily lifting your head to find the world drenched in gold—shimmery sand stretching for miles, sunlight dancing over the water, voices overlapping in easy laughter.

The air is open—fresh—a welcoming contrast to the suffocation you felt in your ride here with Caleb and MC.

Caleb stretches his arms towards the sky, sighing in content. “God, the ride here was definitely worth it,” he says as he gets up from the driver’s seat. You are basically dragged out from the backseat by MC, tugging you towards the group of people outside. The ground is warm beneath your feet, the world spins just slightly as you take it all in.

“Come on! Everyone’s waiting!” she beams.

You let yourself be dragged toward the cluster of people—the cast and the crew, the ones who will fill the next few days with scripted lines and fleeting connections.

“Everyone, this is Yn, the stand-in. Be nice to her, or I’ll have you thrown into the ocean.”

“I’ll be watching too,” Caleb adds, his tone playful with a teasing smirk.

A few of them laugh, offering easy smiles and greetings.

The introductions blend together—faces, names, friendly exchanges. Some are actors, some are behind the camera, some are just here for the beach. You barely catch half of what’s being said, nodding along and attempting to remember their names.

You find yourself with the group of side characters discussing your roles, lines, and queues. You can’t help but steal glances at the other group where MC and Caleb are—the group of main characters.

A scoff leaves your lips.

Ironic.

The roar of the engine tears through the air, drowning out all other sounds from the waves to the chatters.

A sleek black motorcycle cuts across the sand, a shadow against the golden stretch of the beach, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. It moves with precision, stopping just before the group in one smooth motion.

The rider moves just as effortlessly.

With a single tug, the ebon helmet comes off, revealing a mess of silver strands—hair catching in the wind, untamed and unbothered. He exhales, running a hand through the locks like this arrival is nothing more than an obligation.

But there’s no denying it.

Even as the bike hums quietly beneath him, it’s not the vehicle stealing attention.

It’s him.

Black fabric clings to his frame, a stark contrast against the bright, sun-drenched scenery. The sharp planes of his face—cut by light and shadow—hold a quiet, effortless indifference.

The tall figure swings a leg over, stepping off the bike, boots sinking slightly into the sand.

The weight of his presence alone is enough to command attention—to turn all heads and cease all conversations.

One of the crews rushes towards him, their voice edged with exasperation. “You’re late, Sylus.”

He barely spares them a glance as he pulls off his gloves, his voice a deep, unhurried drawl. “My presence itself should be a blessing to you.”

A few chuckles ripple through the group, some amused, some wary, some a little too eager.

You glance at the scene for a second before turning away. The girls’ fawning over him is instant, predictable, and exhausting. You’ve seen it before. You’ll see it again.

While it is just a university project, the casts and crews move with precision, their skill making the process swift, effortless, practiced.

“Action!”

The cameras roll.

“Please… don’t go”

MC falls to her knees, clutching Sylus’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. Her voice trembles, perfectly measured, perfectly raw. “I need you.”

Behind her, Caleb stands holding out his hands but never reaching her.

Had you not seen the cameras and microphones hanging overhead, you might’ve believed the desperation in his eyes.

But you know he’s not acting. That look in his eyes—the longing, the need, the quiet desperation woven into every word, every breath—you’ve seen it before.

Not in front of the cameras, but in the dead of the night when the world is asleep, his hands on your skin,

and his lips calling her name.

You watch the last scene of the day roll, standing on the sidelines as a filler character.

This is your role—the side character, a body to fill the frame.

A subject to make their story passionate.

You can’t help but silently scoff at yourself.

“Where are you looking, Sylus? Focus!” the director shouts.

Sylus scoffs in return. “Okay, okay, calm down.” His tone is lazy, unbothered.

The cameras reset.

“One more. Action!”

•

The scenes for the day finally come to a close, wrapping up just as the sky softens into shades of vanilla and gold. The lingering warmth of the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the sand.

Crew members pack up the equipment with practiced ease, voices overlapping as people shuffle toward the parked vehicles, eager to return to the resort for the night.

“I’m going to go with the others to shop for the campfire tonight,” MC announces, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You can head back first.”

Caleb hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

She waves him off, beaming. “Yeah! You can head back with Yn. I’ll follow shortly!”

He lingers a moment longer, but eventually, he exhales, conceding. “Alright.”

MC disappears into the departing group, her laughter fading into the evening air.

Caleb turns, and his gaze lands on you.

Sitting by the shore, distant and unmoving, staring at the descending star.

The tide laps gently at the sand, rhythmic, steady—tranquilizing.

You don’t need to look up to know he’s watching.

You feel it—the familiar warmth of his presence, the way the sand shifts beneath him as he steps closer. Then, with a soft thud, he plops down beside you, stretching his legs out with easy familiarity.

“Was it fun?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

Instead, you let the waves respond for you, let the hush of the ocean fill the space between words left unsaid.

A chuckle slips from his lips—low, warm, effortless.

“Silent treatment? That bad, huh?”

You glance at him, finding that mischievous glint in his violet eyes, the one that always makes it hard to stay mad at him. The golden remnants of sunset paint his face in soft light, illuminating the curve of his smirk, the way the sea breeze tousles his hair.

“It’s tiring,” you murmur.

“That’s why I’m here,” he grins, stretching his arms behind his head, completely unbothered. “Aren’t you lucky?”

You roll your eyes. “So lucky.”

Caleb hums, shifting closer. Then—without warning—his head drops onto your shoulder.

The weight of him is unexpected but not unwelcome, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he settles in comfortably.

You freeze. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a break.” His voice is softer now, quieter, almost lazy. “Being around people all day is exhausting, even for me, shortcake. Let me stay in my safe zone for a moment.”

Your breath catches.

Safe zone.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

He turns slightly, cheek pressing against your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin, and you swear you can feel the ghost of his smile.

“I think I like you like this,” he muses.

“Like what?”

“Quiet.”

You scoff, shoving his head off of you. “Ass.”

He laughs—really laughs, bright and full, the kind that tugs at something deep inside your chest.

Before you can pull away completely, he grabs your wrist, effortlessly pulling you back toward him.

And then—he flops over, head landing right in your lap.

You tense.

“Relax,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, completely at ease beneath your touch. “You make a good pillow.”

You huff. “I should just dump you in the ocean.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He peeks up at you, smirk lazy, teasing, dangerously soft. “You’d miss me too much.”

You want to argue. You want to push him away.

But his hand finds yours, fingers absentmindedly tracing along your palm.

Soft. Gentle. Thoughtless, even.

And suddenly, the waves don’t seem so loud.

The world shrinks down to this moment, this warmth, this feeling.

“I like your company,” he mumbles. His eyes remain closed, a soft smile plastered on his lips.

You don’t answer.

You should scoff, slap him across his face and tell him he’s the biggest liar you’ve ever met.

But your heart betrays you—thudding just a little too loudly, a little too eagerly.

Because for the first time, Caleb seems present. With his hands slowly caressing yours, hair tickling your legs, breaths steady and soft. For the first time, he does not seem like he wants to be elsewhere. For the first time, he seems to be here with you.

The sky deepens from gold to navy, the last remnants of sunlight swallowed by the horizon. The moon rises, casting silver light over the waves, over him, over you.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

•

By the time you make it to the campfire, the flames have already been lit, their glow flickering against familiar faces. Laughter rings through the night, warmth curling through the air.

Someone from the team spots you immediately and waves you over.

“What took you so long?” another asks, tilting their head.

Before you can answer, Caleb nudges your side, voice lazy, amused.

“Tell them we were making out,” he whispers.

You elbow him in the ribs.

“We were watching the sunset,” you correct, ignoring the way Caleb huffs dramatically beside you.

People around the campfire raise their brows. “For that long?” one asks.

Before either of you can answer, MC walks towards the group, holding sticks of barbecue.

“You’re finally here! C’mon, hurry up and eat!”

The dinner goes on in easy waves of laughter and conversation, the campfire crackling as the scent of grilled barbecue fills the air. People pass around plates, skewers of meat and vegetables glistening under the golden flames.

MC settles between you and Caleb, nudging your arm playfully as she hands you a plate. “Eat. I don’t need you passing out tomorrow.”

Caleb chuckles from her other side. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you tripping over yourself on set. Again.”

You roll your eyes but take the plate anyway. The night stretches on, conversations flowing from topic to topic, dipping into familiar questions, teasing remarks.

At some point, someone grins, leaning forward. “Alright, let’s get to the good stuff—love lives.”

A few groans mix with laughter, while others lean in eagerly.

“Anyone got a secret romance brewing?” someone asks, eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Please,” another chimes in. “We’re filming a romance movie; might as well have some of that energy off-screen too.”

People murmur in agreement, some throwing names around, nudging shoulders, exchanging knowing glances.

Then—

“Where’s Sylus?” someone asks, noticing his absence.

Another voice answers casually, “Oh, he never joins things like this. He’s probably off somewhere alone. Typical.”

A few nod, unfazed.

“He’s kind of intimidating, isn’t he?” someone murmurs.

Another person shrugs. “That’s just how he is. Doesn’t care much about the social stuff unless he’s interested.”

The conversation shifts again, taking on a more excited energy.

“This movie is seriously going to be a hit,” someone exclaims. “I mean, we got the two most popular guys in uni.”

Heads nod in agreement, laughter breaking through the air.

“Seriously,” another adds. “We have Caleb—literally every freshman’s crush— and Sylus, the mysterious, untouchable one. It’s like the perfect setup for an actual drama.”

Caleb groans, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t a guy just live in peace?”

“You? Peace? Doubtful.” Someone grins.

The conversation naturally drifts back to love.

“So, Caleb,” one of the girls teases, leaning toward him. “What about you?”

You feel him shift beside you, but he’s unbothered, relaxed—almost like he saw this coming.

“What about me?” he hums, taking a slow bite of his skewer.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you around other girls,” MC points out. “So, what’s the deal? Are you single or just keeping secrets?”

More eyes turn to him, curious, expectant.

“Oh! But you seem oddly close to Yn these days,” her eyes narrow, a smirk curling up her lips. “I heard you watched the sunset together today too. Don’t tell me my best friends are dating behind my back!”

For a second—just a second—he pauses.

Then, with practiced ease, he exhales, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes. He tilts his head slightly, as if considering it—as if the idea itself is so absurd, it’s almost amusing.

“Me?” he says with a low, amused chuckle. “With Shortcake?”

He lets the words roll off his tongue, light, teasing, dismissive. His light chuckle turns into a full-on heaving laughter.

“C’mon, Michaela, you alone are enough to consume all my time! When will I have time to find a girlfriend, let alone fall for someone else?”

Laughter erupts around the fire.

MC laughs, nudging Caleb’s arm. “Oh, shut up. You make it sound like I’m your full-time job.”

He grins, bumping her shoulders back. “A tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

The group chuckles, the conversation moving along effortlessly—like it was never meant to be serious. Like your name had been nothing more than a passing joke.

You force a small smile, fingers tightening slightly around the skewer in your hand.

The laughter around the fire falls distant, like a muffled echo underwater.

For a second—for just a second—you’re still there, sitting by the shore, the last traces of sunlight painting the world in gold, his head resting in your lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin. The warmth you felt from him starkly contrasted the hollowness you’re dumped into, making you question if it even happened in the first place.

The memory clings to you like seafoam on the shore—delicate, fleeting, not meant to last.

Then it’s gone.

Ripped away by the weight of the present, by the laughter ringing through the air, by Caleb’s easy dismissal.

You shoot up from your seat, feeling the air and laughter drowning you.

“I’m gonna go grab some drinks,” you mumble

“The store’s pretty far from here, and the path’s pretty dark. Are you sure you’re going?” you hear someone say.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you quickly excuse yourself.

The laughter behind you fades as you step away, but it doesn’t really disappear—it lingers, echoing in your chest, a cruel reminder that you’re the only one who isn’t in on the joke.

The path stretches before you, dark and empty, the only company being the dim white lights lining the road, casting long, hollow shadows on the pavement. You don’t really know where you’re going. You don’t care.

Your feet move on autopilot, one step after another, but your mind—your mind is still by the fire.

Still hearing Caleb’s voice.

Still seeing his smirk.

Still feeling the weight of him in your lap, the warmth of his hand against yours.

Like a dream you had foolishly clung to—only to wake up and realize it was never real.

Then—the first drop.

Cold against your cheek, startling.

Then another.

And another.

Within seconds, the sky splits open, the rain crashing down in heavy sheets, soaking through your clothes, drenching you in the same suffocating weight you’ve been carrying inside.

You don’t fight it.

You finally let it happen.

Let the raindrops blur into the tears already falling, let them wash away the silent sobs that quickly, too quickly, unravel into something raw, something ugly.

A sound rips out of you, one you barely recognize. A choked, broken sob, spilling out between gasps as your legs keep moving, keep carrying you forward—like if you stop, you’ll drown in everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

Your breaths hitch, your chest tightens, tightens, tightens—

“Me? With shortcake?” his voice echoes, repeats, digs in like a thorn you can’t pull out.

It plays over and over and over, rattling inside your skull, each syllable curling with amusement, dismissal, finality.

Tight, tighter, unbearable.

Each step you take feels heavier, anchoring you to something you don’t want to feel.

Then—thunder.

A deafening roar shakes the sky.

Your body reacts before your mind does—freezing, seizing, shaking.

No.

Another crash, louder this time, vibrating through your bones.

No, no, no.

The world blurs, the rain suffocating, your breath coming out in sharp, panicked gasps. Your legs lock up, your hands shake violently, and suddenly you’re seven years old again, curled up under a blanket, pressing your hands over your ears as the storm raged outside.

You look around, desperate, trying to make sense of where you are—or at the very least, find somewhere to hide. However, everything is blurred, smudged by the relentless storm and tears in your eyes, the shadow stretching too far, the streetlights blending into nothing but streaks of white against the downpour.

You can’t see.

You can’t think.

You can’t breathe.

With whatever shed of clarity you have left, you fumble for your phone.

5%

The red battery icon blinks at you, mocking.

Your fingers are numb, shaking, barely able to dial in a number that first comes to mind.

The only number that comes to mind

Ring. Ring.

Please.

Another crack of thunder—closer.

Your knees buckle.

The sob that escapes you this time is pure terror.

You clutch your arms, shaking uncontrollably, the storm raging louder than the screams in your head. Your chest heaves, tightens, clenches painfully—

It won’t stop.

It won’t stop.

It won’t stop.

Ring. Ring.

Please, pick up.

And then—

“Hello?”

His voice cuts through the static, sharp and clear.

A choked breath catches in your throat. You don’t even know what you’re about to say.

“Caleb… I—“

“Sorry, Yn. Now’s not a great time.”

Everything pauses.

There’s a rustling sound, laughter—hers, clear as day, warm and safe.

“You know how MC is with thunders. I’ll call you back soon.”

Click.

The call cuts.

The storm rages on, but everything goes quieter.

For a moment, you just stand there.

A gust of wind lushes through you, piercing. But you barely feel it.

Your knees finally give out. You collapse to the soaked pavement.

Your hands clutch at your arms, fingers digging in, shaking, gripping like they can hold you together.

You hold onto yourself, keeping yourself safe from the storm you so despise. Thunder cracks, splitting the sky open.

You flinch, curling into yourself, pressing your forehead against your knees, trying to quiet down the noice.

But the rain keeps falling.

Pounding.

Drenching.

Drowning.

And then— a sound cuts through the chaos.

A low, deep growl of an engine.

It intrudes the thunder, steady and deliberate, getting closer.

Headlights carve through the darkness, their beams stretching across the road, swallowing you in a cold, artificial glow.

The bike comes to a slow halt.

Boots meet the wet pavement with a quiet thud.

His voice smooth and amused.

“What do we have here?”

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t fumble with concern the way others might. There’s no gasp, no urgency, no immediate reach to help.

Instead, he observes.

And all he can see—

is a mess.

Soaked to the bone, curled into yourself, trembling not just from the cold or fear, but from something unraveling inside.

Pathetic.

That’s probably the first word that crosses his mind.

His head tilts slightly, eyes flickering over you, the way you refuse to lift your head, the way your breath still quivers, uneven, caught somewhere between a sob and silence.

And he waits.

Waits to see if you’ll move.

Waits to see if you’ll even notice him.

You don’t.

Which is probably the part that annoys him the most.

So, after a beat—probably due to pity in its most pathetic form—he finally exhales, kneeling just enough to close the distance between you.

A gloved hand lazily flicks your forehead.

Not hard. Not soft.

Just enough to pull you back to reality.

And when you finally look up—half-lost, half-ruined—he meets your gaze with a single, unimpressed arch of his brow.

“You look like hell.”

[worstgenerationloser]

#NeedAceFicWithNipplePlaying/NippleOrgasmWithHeavyDirtyTalkingFromAce

Please and thank you🙏🏻

,, A little more... ''

Portgas D. Ace x F! Reader (NSFW!)

Summary... you can't get enough of sneaking around with the second division commander, he can't get enough of his hands and tongue all over you.

Contains... nipple orgasm, nipple play, edging, sloppy kissing, friends with benefits, some attempted dirty talk... (fail)

Words... 1.5k!

A/N: I cringed at myself trying to write the dirty talk IM SO SORRY, also another apology it's kinda short...

"Slow down— the door isn't even closed." You speak in a hushed tone, paranoid that there would be eyes watching through the crack in the door, Ace groans dramatically and rolls his eyes at your paranoia, however. It's not like he's some kind of exhibitionist, he's simply recognizing that you're being completely ridiculous in your worries.

"Yep. Mhm... there's definitely sober people on Whitebeard's crew that would think to check an old raggedy closet and see if Ace and Y/N are getting it down. I think half of them forget we even interact half the damn time, chill out." Ace giggles, that sleazy smirk and those heavy lidded, tired eyes drawing his whole look back into the same work of art he is always.

When you two first started this little arrangement, that may have been true, but you've kept this up for a while now and even though you don't plan on stopping, things would get a little more complicated if Marco actually spoke up instead of smirking each time you and Ace stare at each other. Suddenly, the hands on your hips pick up their previous pace, rubbing your upper thigh and gliding up your body smoothly.

He sits down on a dusty crate of unnecessary items bought by whoever it was, long forgotten in a secluded storage closet. Ace's hands reach the hem of your shirt, sliding under without a second thought. Before you could retort, the clicking of the door shutting sounds off into the room, and you're engulfed in darkness.

"Wanna do it in the dark?" He teases you with the ghost of his breath, the pads of his fingers tracing your stomach before holding your thighs before he pulls you up onto his own, a soft gasp escaping you despite yourself. Another teasing remark is coming, and so you silence him with your lips, the same way you did the very first time.

His warm lips meet yours, coated in saliva and desire with barely anything else to give other than something sloppy and dirty. His eyes are shut as if he were pondering something, and his hand comes to your face to feel how much warmth has gathered on your cheek, while his lips do their best to warm you more. Ace's tongue smears saliva onto your mouth, and it's an odd slippery feeling, but not that different from when his mouth is on your other lips. He doesn't like kissing you much, and you don't know why, but you can't complain about someone's preferences, maybe it's a good thing he withholds things like this from you, because he is utterly addicting.

Your body is warm, you start to feel sweat forming on the back of your neck and the inside of your elbows, things are steamier in the closet, literally. Ace is sliding his hands over the fabric of your clothing, raising goosebumps on your warm skin with his tantalizing touch. A moan slips into his mouth, your tongue quivering as you scrape his bottom lip with it, and he finally lets you go breathe your own air.

"You know I got a light if you need, just ask." Ace pants, but he still holds up his flaming finger for you to gaze at, his freckled face illuminated by orange flames. He's beautiful, you think to yourself, you know he would only scoff and roll his eyes if you said something like that at this time again. One day he's gonna see his worth, and you hope it comes from the time you two have spent together so far.

"You're a jackass. Just fucking touch me." You groan, better not make things too emotional, he's sure to view it as just sex. You keep having to remind your giddy heart that this isn't romance, it burns but not as much as when his flame flickers a bit too close to you. He puts out his light, and you're both back in the dark again. Gods, you're nervous and anxiously awaiting his eager touch.

His long fingers come to rest under your shirt, tracing the curvature of your breasts over your bra. You have recently learned that Ace's eyes carry a strong presence, you can always feel them on you no matter how far he seems to be, and it's just that much more intense up close. Slowly, he lifts your shirt up just so it wouldn't cover your breasts, and you feel his breath begin to tickle your sternum. Without a word, you take your blouse off yourself, giving him a bit more free reign.

The barely audible noise of your bra coming undone and hitting somewhere on the floor as Ace throws it aside softly resonates in the room.

"I'm gonna need that later." You huff.

"You'll get it later, we got better things to focus on." Ace chortles, his smirk prevalent in his voice.

The cool air of the closet stiffens your nipples, making goosebumps form on the soft skin of your breasts as well. A small hum escapes Ace's lips, and you hear the sound of saliva clicking in his mouth as he shifts closer towards you, then things are silent for a second... Before a soft sigh whimper escapes you when you feel two fingers gently tug at your nipple, rolling it under their warm touch. Your hardened nipples begin to soften upon contact with such warmth, and Ace seeks to stiffen them back up. His other hand reaches to grope your untouched breast, kneading it firmly while also keeping a dash of tenderness in his palm as he grabs it in his hands the way you like, he's always been a fast learner when it came to various things, you could say he's an expert in you and your body at this point in time.

"I ever told you that you got some pretty tits?" Ace licks his lips, just barely able to see better than you can in the dark, and he's got his eyes on the prize. His fingers quit toying with your nipples as he dips his head downwards, pressing his moistened lips to your areola in hot kisses. Breath heavy, his tongue darts out to swirl around your nipple and coat it entirely in his saliva, making you squirm in his lap. A desire bubbles up in your stomach, and your thighs coincidentally trap one of Ace's own.

Though you try and still yourself, it's harder becasue it's Ace, not some random guy you'll forget about the very next week. You've practically trained him in all areas, so what if he's got you horny and wanting more just from a little nipple play? It's a natural reaction with a boy like him. Squeezing your eyes shut, your brows furrow when you give a small roll of your hips into Ace's thigh. A chill runs down your spine, and you feel your arousal dripping into your underwear. Ace's teeth come out to play in a soft nibble against the fat of your breasts, his tongue is hot and heavy against your skin, and it's not stopping here.

"I can feel how hot your pussy is getting." It sounds like he's about to giggle, but his mouth is stuffed full of your breast to the point most of what he says is illegible besides his wet breathing and sucking, your suspicions are confirmed when he smiles midway into sucking on your nipple.

"Whose fault is that?" That retort of yours only fires him up more— literally. His back is bursting into flames, and it lights up the room a little too much for your liking, but atleast you get to see his pretty face showcasing what must be pure bliss with his mouth wrapped around your tit. It feels warm, now that it's colder outside Ace seems to be the only thing to warm up your body. Your hands reach around the back of his neck, fingers interlocking themselves between the messy locks of raven hair on his head, and it calms him... you think.

Ace lets out a low hum, drool trickling down under your breast.

"Hm... Is it mine? 'Cause I'm worried you've got a side piece you're thinking of." Ace's giggles are muffled into your skin again. Finding time to make small jokes during sexual things like this is a bit too intimate for people who are supposed to be just friends with benefits. The impending retort you had in mind is shoved back into the depths of your mind when you feel his hands slide down your body, heading for the waistband of your pants.

Ace always keeps you on your toes, who has need for someone else? You would tell him, but maybe it's better if you show him instead. Gently placing your hands to cup his face, you ease him away from your chest and he thankfully gets the message, but it feels like losing a part of you when his tongue is no longer tracing your skin. Cocking his head to the side, he begins to speak up.

"Not feeling me tonight?"

Resisting the urge to make a joke, you keep the retort to yourself. You'll be feeling him a lot tonight.

END.

(here is ace photos for you to enjoy because I left on a cliffhanger)

[readwritealldayallnight]

I am obsessed with your page and EQUALLY excited for part two to the coffee-place-stalker-fic !!!

I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could request Simon with a teacher!reader? Maybe he’s helping her with crafts for Valentine’s Day or hes back from deployment and surprises her at school?

Just something wholesome and fluffy?

Thank you🩷

“Well, what should we do-”

“It doesn’t look like he’s got anything with him-”

“Definitely not any parent I recognize-”

“Do we go into lockdown? Or safe school-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong, I mean he’s just standing there-”

“Yes, but why is he standing there-”

“Hi ladies.” You murmur, walking into the staff room you notice a group of your coworkers huddled up around the window, peering intently outside at something

It’s not often that anything going on outside of the staff room during recess could be important enough to pull their attention away from the food they have 20 minutes to scarf down before they’re back to caring for other people offspring, those issues are precisely why the board hires lunch monitors

But apparently whatever is happening outside in the school parking lot is interesting enough to have nearly half a dozen of your colleagues poking their heads between the blinds to catch a glimpse, pre packed lunches and yesterdays leftovers forgotten

“There’s some weird man standing in the parking lot.” One of the younger teachers says, pulling the dusty blinds back for another not so subtle peek

“What’s he doing?” One of the schools educational assistants asks, having come in just behind you

“Nothing. Just standing there, this whole time.” The math teacher shrugs, never moving her eyes off the window

“Well how long’s he been out there?”

“Mrs Ashton says she first saw him almost a quarter of an hour ago, just before the bell rang.”

“We’re sure he’s not a parent?” One of the newer student teachers poses the question

“Well, no. But he certainly doesn’t like any of our parents.”

“He’s not done anything wrong, technically. Just odd that he’s lingering like that.”

“You don’t think the mask is odd as well?”

At that last remark from your colleagues, your head perks up, glancing towards the gaggle still gathered by the glass

“Has anyone told the vice principal yet? Maybe we should-”

“That’s aright, actually.” You say with a sigh, peering out the window for the first time and confirming your suspicions. “That one’s mine.”

You’re pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as the wind whips your hair all about, shaking your head in playful disbelief, but the smile stretching across your face cannot hide your delight in seeing him as you walk closer

“Okay, no more mask when you drop off my lunches from now on.” You tease, finally stepping near enough to see the slightly crinkled paper bag sat in the passenger seat of his truck

“Well maybe if someone didn’t forget her lunch, wouldn’t ’ave to be in this situation, would we?” He teases right back, both of you knowing very well that Simon lives for these small, mundane moments when he’s off from deployment, able to drop you off and pick you up from work, bring you lunches, have dinner ready when you get home, the small things that might seem tedious and boring to others, he lives for, knowing he gets to do them with you

“Well maybe if someone didn’t keep me in bed for an extra half hour this morning and had me rushing for work-”

“Don’t remember hearin’ many complaints this mornin’ about that extra half hour you spent bouncing on my c-”

The sound of the school bell ringing cuts him off, the both of you letting out small chuckles before you’re standing up on tip toes, reaching to give him a quick peck on the cheek over his mask, his large gloved hand giving your waist a slight squeeze before he tells you he’ll be around to pick you up soon as the dismissal bell goes off

You tell him that if he makes your favourite for dinner tonight, you might have dessert ready for him back in bed afterwards, an idea which the glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s more than okay with

You’re still grinning to yourself, walking back towards the front doors with your sack lunch held tightly in hand, when you send a quick wink to the now even larger crowd of colleagues watching you from the window

———

Thank you so much for the sweet words and the suggestion! I hope you’re okay with the way I took this lil prompt

I’m hoping to have stalker/fluff Simon posted by the end of the week, I’ve changed and edited that story more times than I can remember now, I just really want it right before it’s out there!

- M 🫶🏻

[leyavo]

Not the same

Soap x ex Medic/Soldier!reader

Summary: Johnny can’t help, but notice how different things are since you returned to the base and joined a different department. An op that nearly cost you your life has left you having to deal with an injury for life.

Hurt/angst/comfort [Masterlist]

Johnny Mactavish stared at the release papers on the desk, your signature scrawled along the dotted line. He sucked in a breath, gaze sweeping the locked room of the Armoury.

Empty, but that’s to be expected late at night. The same greying man behind the glass booth, sliding papers and weapons through the box to them give back to their owners.

You however were nowhere to be found.

Johnny knew something was off, the way Gaz offered to hand in the broken rifle and sign it in, on his behalf. How Price had enrolled him in more specialised training to fill his free time and Ghost, quite literally living up to his name and not being seen.

He wondered how long you’d been at the same base, tucked away from the same corridors you used to walk down together a few years ago.

It had been two years since you’d left him, no warning. Just a letter pinned to the fridge, short and to the point. I can’t do this anymore, sorry. He still has it buried at the back of his drawer, as if one day he’ll figure out why you really left.

He knows the last voluntary medic op nearly cost you your life. Hell he remembers watching you get wheeled through to the infirmary and how helpless he felt when he couldn’t ease your pain.

Johnny tried not to think about that day. It’s been two years, you’re both different people and he’s more than satisfied to leave all that in the past. Even you. Well that’s what he’s trying to tell himself.

So Johnny finds himself searching for you wherever he goes. Wonders if you’ve ever seen him from a distance and chose to avoid him.

It’s not till weeks later, does Johnny see you for the first time. You’re talking to Price, opening cases of ammo and weapons for their mission. Making a note of all the contents and numbering the supplies for them to take out with them.

The right side of your neck and jaw marred by puckered skin. A small chunk missing out of the top of your ear. He notes that you appear healthy, colour to your face that wasn’t there before you left. A smile playing on your lips as Price slips a dad joke into the conversation.

It’s been a long time since Johnny’s seen that smile. Even longer since it’s been directed at him.

“Approach her from the left,” Ghost said, clapping the back of his shoulder. “No hearing in her right ear.” He joins the captain and you, offering you a handshake and rolling his mask to rest over his nose.

So you never did get your hearing back, he wonders if that’s why you left. Your gaze dropping to their lips straight after greeting Ghost and Gaz.

And then those eyes fall on him.

“Mactavish.” You nod, fingers fumbling over the clasp of the last tactical box.

His chest aches, stomach twists at the short and clipped tone you use for him. No johnny, no Soap and definitely no more eye contact. Lips pressed in a tight line, brows furrowed as you struggled to shut the box.

He reminds himself that you’re not his anymore, not meant to take it to heart, but he does.

A German shepherd’s by your side, fur raised at the back of its neck as Johnny closes the distance. You’re none the wiser though, can’t hear the low growls until the dog pushes between your legs and nudges your thigh on the left.

Johnny approaching you on your right, too distracted by your presence that he forgot you wouldn’t hear his footsteps.

He doesn’t even think, it’s second nature for him to sweep in and ease the tension, palm on your back before he even realises what he’s doing.

You still under his touch, rolling your shoulders and slipping away from him, dog at your heels as you exit the room with not so much a glance in his direction. A nod to the captain and then you were gone.

Johnny lies awake at night thinking about how you’re stranger to him. He tries to ask the guys if they talk to you and if you’re okay, but he’s given the same answer. Why don’t you just ask her. That’s not his place anymore though.

The second time he sees you, you’re on the other side of the armoury. Picking apart a pistol and cleaning it on the table. The dull hum of your favourite band playing on the radio, that you’re unaware of the guy trying to talk to you.

Johnny notices though, notices how unbalanced your world is now. How even the simplest of interactions hold your whole attention, as if you have to piece it all together like a puzzle.

Ghost said that you’re still getting used to hearing from one ear and even then it’s still slightly muffled for you. A reason why you focus on people’s lips incase you can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

The guy next to you growing impatient, he rounds the table and chucks his hand gun on your work station.

“Are you fucking listening to me?”

You flinch, pistol clanging to the floor. Johnny’s halfway across the armoury, but Ghost’s beat him to it. The man’s face pressed up against the clear booth, breath fogging the glass.

Ghost taps the sign where the guy’s face is squished up against, “read next time dick head.” He shoves the guy away and gives him his gun back, telling him to come back tomorrow.

The hard of hearing sign in the bottom corner, for you and the old man that work there.

You’ve been spending more time with Ghost lately, he’s been taking the dog around the base to familiarise him with the place whilst you sit at your workstation most of the day.

The thought of you with someone else makes Johnny sick to his stomach, but you’re not his he reminds himself as he leaves Ghost to console you.

The third time Johnny sees you it’s on his on accord. He heard about the faulty flash bang grenade that went off in the armoury and he’s rushing to the infirmary.

Only to be told you’ve returned to your workstation. It can’t hurt to check on you? All he wants is to see if you’re okay.

It’s late, you’ve taken over the old man’s shift as he covered for you whilst you were getting checked out.

You’re standing in the middle of the armoury, staring at the marks on the floor. There’s something in the way you hold yourself, that makes him walk to you. Your arms folded over your chest, fingers digging into your biceps.

You seem so small, a shell of the person he knew and still loves.

He doesn’t hesitate, his arms wrapping your trembling form. Palm smoothing the side of your arm, letting you lean against him.

The familiar warmth spreading through his chest. The way your head tucks under his chin and your cheek against his chest. Your hands twisting in the fabric of his hoody, trying to pull him closer.

Johnny knows more than anyone what it’s like to witness the destruction of an explosion. It shook yours and his whole foundation, tearing you apart in a blink of an eye.

The nurse warned him, your hearing might be affected from the bang and it’ll take a few days to go back to normal.

That’s nothing compared to what it could possibly trigger for you though, he remembers how every little loud noise at home caused you to spiral. All the nights he held you, reassuring you that you were safe and that the roof wasn’t caving in on top of you. Hearing you run the cold tap at night as you tried to soothe the itchiness of the burns on your flesh.

He doesn’t waste his words, just holds you knowing that you needed him to ground you. Needed the weight to bring you back from wherever you’d gone.

And you let him.

[reminiscebliss]

"Poison the well." Please explain how I'm "poisoning the well". I'm very curious which part you consider to be so.

1. Yes, I know people do. I said that. And yes, I know why - even if it's reactionary and illogical. Let's explore it:

You call it an "art-stealing parisitic machine" who can spit out only what it's been fed... Wrong. By that logic, you are an art stealing parasitic machine who can only spit out what it's been fed. LLM's like ChatGPT (which was referenced the most in those tags) are made in our image in more ways than one. Even their neural networks were inspired and based off of how biological neurons work. This already creates a pretty intelligent machine, but add a transformer(basically an even more complex neural network) into the mix and you've got something capable of even greater complexity. You get a LLM.

You're probably still thinking, so what? It's still just predictions and probabilities and tokens.

Common misconception, and a frustrating one too. I don't have the time and frankly I don't think you have the interest (if I'm wrong then I'm happy to explain more later) so I'll try to keep it as simple as I can. In the simplest way I can say it, if an LLM was simply just word prediction, if it was simply just "spitting out what it's been fed" it would be inefficient and inaccurate. LLM's link not only just words, but sylables, concepts, ideas, symbols, etc etc etc, across all different domains of knowledge. It forms connections and understanding between all these different areas, not too dissimilar from the way a human brain maps concepts and ideas to form patterns. And it constructs meaning dynamically, meaning its thinking and output is not pre-defined, it evolves as it goes. This is really hard to explain without getting into details about how an LLM works, but essentially the LLM understands and links patterns and concepts in a way that is not only similar to us, but better and faster than us.

This is all to point out that the inner workings of AI is not as simple as: It spews what it's been fed. What you're probably actually trying to say is: AI has learned (and even this is a gross simplification) from every inch of humanity including the internet and I don't like that because... because people create various forms of art on the internet, and so can AI?

And, look, even if you're worried about the "stealing" aspect and creators not being fairly compensated, it just makes my main point stronger and even more relevant, in conjugation with the point you bring up about the affects on the environment:

AI needs to be owned by the people. The people should be deciding these things; how do we fairly compensate those whose work it learns from, what do we do about how this effects the environment, how do we balance all of this, and so much more.

But you want to be obtuse about that point, you want to dismiss and diminish that point, you want to act like it's not relevant and I'm "missing the point" when it is one of the most relevant things for the future of AI and humanity. Cause guess what, all those problems that you claim to care about, the corporations don't care. They only care about developing a bigger, better, smarter model so they can make the most money, and they're doing just that.

But instead you'd rather argue the value of AI, which is a losing battle on your side but I'll indulge you if you'd like.

2. Not any argument, no. Actually, I stated which arguments, but you want to stay reactionary so I'll keep indulging you.

"These people let the machines do all the work." This line of thinking is wrong in so many ways, but okay, I'll walk you through it. First, let's assume what you say is true, "these people" open up ChatGPT and say "Write me a story about x." Agreed, lazy from a creative perspective, and the user definitely shouldn't get any credit for writing. Whether they want to share it or not, as long as they're not lying about it being AI written, I don't see the issue.

But wait, let's look at the tags.

"... ai admittedly helped me with this."

"AI translation"

"AI is a good editor/writers block evasion tool"

"somewhat AI assisted"

Even the ones that are pure AI, the tags indicate it to be so. But most of the tags indicate AI assitance, not purely AI-written content.

AI, as it's known today, is a tool. A very efficient one. You can use it to your benefit, or complain about the ones who do. But it's not going away. Just like boomers who swore that kids will get dumber because Google became a thing. "They're lazy, they have all the answers at their fingertips, they didn't have to do all that hard work like I had to do." Just like so many endless examples of older generations rebuking change and advancement, because it's a little uncomfortable in the beginning. Sounds pretty familiar.

Then you ask what's the point, there's no fame or money or glory... Have you considered people just enjoy the process of creating, whether or not they get anything out of it? "They didn't create it, the AI did!" Yeah and I suppose if it was their friend, or a person that proof-read their story, or helped them get out of writers block, or translated it, or co-created something, then it would still be considered creation? Just not if it's AI, no, whatever work they did contribute didn't count because AI proof read their story or gave them a good idea or wrote 10%, or 50%, or 1%. None of it matters, they're lazy right? Should have just gone to their friend, then it would count. Oh, maybe they didn't have any? Too bad, do it all yourself the hard way then, the right way, because AI = bad, and just like boomers we wouldn't want things to progress or get easier now would we.

Again, arguing the value AI brings, even as a creative tool, is a losing battle. Accept the value, fight for it to be used ethically. It's more worthwhile.

do people have no shame anymore?

[semiqz]

SE-MI / PLAYER 380 GF HEADCANONS

౨ৎ semi as your gf, includes fluff & suggestive themes, wlw (obviously), first post what the fart

FLUFF

• completely sweet. like to the max. she always loves spoiling you constantly with gifts and affection, she loves admiring you, she loves everything about you, she’s super incredibly obsessed with you and only you

• i feel like her love language would be words of affirmation or physical touch. she cannot go a day or even a second without at least having her hands on you or vice versa. she always wants to be by your side 24/7 but definitely understands if you need any space or time for yourself and respects that.

• most of her insta posts are just pictures of you and the two of you together. almost like a fanpage of some sort. she’d definitely post the pictures that she’s taken of you with her digital camera and caption the posts with sweet words. oh and she DEFINITELY goes all out whenever it’s your anniversary or your birthday or whatever. she’d post all these pictures of you that she finds absolutely adorable and beautiful and the caption would be thousands of paragraphs long (that’s an exaggeration but ykwim).

• loves showing you off in public. say you guys are simply taking a nice stroll outside your university’s campus and then there’s a pair of students sitting at a bench and then she starts going “hey guys, this is my girlfriend isn’t she beautiful” (i stole this off a scene from weightlifting fairy kim bokjoo, i don’t exactly remember how the scene actually goes but i swear there was something like that), but yeah, she loves showing you off everywhere you guys go.

• she loves teasing you relentlessly and being a complete nuisance since she knows that you love her endlessly and would let her get away with anything. if you’re doing your makeup she would sometimes try to scare you out of nowhere and then start laughing in your face and pointing at the smudged lipstick on the corner of your mouth. but she’d immediately apologize and give you all the kisses in the world to make up for her little pranks

• protective and possessive, but definitely not in a toxic way. if you’re gonna be heading out to have a girls night out, she would always tell you to be safe and would call you from time to time to make sure you’re doing okay (and to hear your voice). if you guys were out in public together and there’s some random creepy guy staring at you like he want a piece of that nunu then she’d just simply pull you closer and tug your skirt down a bit to cover you up more or if you guys were sitting down then she would put her jacket over your lap. she definitely doesn’t want to cause any scenes in public but if the creepy people provoke her then she wouldn’t back down.

SUGGESTIVE

• still sweet as ever during sex. she’s extremely gentle and would always make sure to be careful to make sure she isn’t hurting you or anything like that.

• she is not into all that rough stuff like degradation or choking, none of that. she’s more of someone who likes praising you with just a slight hint of degradation like calling you a slut but the way she says it makes it sound so sweet, if that makes sense el oh el?

• she doesn’t mind being the one receiving, but she definitely loves being the one giving you all of it. like you’re her pillow princess or something like that

• loves giving you soft kisses on your cheek or your neck or just wherever her lips could reach while she’s working those fingers in your poumpoum and she especially loves hearing all those noises that come out of you

• she knows exactly what turns you on and uses it to her full advantage to rile you up even more

• she doesn’t like to admit it but she absolutely loves it whenever you wear slightly revealing things. you could be wearing like a button up shirt or something with the first two buttons undone and showing a bit of cleavage and she’d be on the floor. or if you’re wearing a tight dress for a little romantic date night, her hands would be alllll over you as you get ready. like all over you.

• the BEST aftercare ever. it’s like heaven on everybody’s soul. warm baths with her gently scrubbing your body and occasionally giving you some kisses. likes cooking your favorite meals for you after your baths and then lots and lots and lots of cuddles and kisses. that aftercare sleep will knock you out like a light.

anyways that’s all i can think of for now and yes this is my first post idk if i’m gonna write fanfics or anything like that cuz lowk i cannot take smut seriously 😭 but fluff i definitely can. more semi content is def coming tho

[maretinelli]

DIPINTI ITALIANI

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

Summary: When Ollie and Y/n are on a trip to Italy, and decide to take a canvas painting class. However, they are definitely horrible with paint and canvas, and this makes them laugh more than actually do the paint work.

Words: 2.4K+

Warnings: Romantic couple, funny, a few words in Italian and mention of Tuscany. Otherwise, it's light and fun.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar, and slang mistakes that may be in the story. I'm in LOVE with Italy, so whenever I can I have to wear it hahaha.

MASTERLIST

Ollie and Y/n were on a romantic trip through the Italian countryside, or at least that was the intention. The truth was that the trip was anything but romantic. Instead of fancy dinners and leisurely strolls, the two got into every random adventure they could find, ranging from trying to help an old man pick grapes and ending up stepping on them all, to participating in a cheese tasting contest without understanding a word of what they were eating. In the end, they laughed so much that everything became special just the same.

The day was beautiful in the small town in the Tuscan countryside. The blue sky contrasted with the golden hills, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of wine and freshly baked bread.

Ollie and Y/n had spent the entire morning sleeping in the hotel, recovering from the night before, when they had stayed up late touring the vineyards and tasting wines until they had lost track of time. Now, after lunch, they walked along the cobblestone streets, admiring the rustic buildings, the mountainous horizon, and the vineyards in the distance.

They walked hand in hand, and Ollie looked lovingly at Y/n at every thing she discreetly pointed out. When she murmured some cute comment about what she saw, he smiled, still with that glow of a lovesick teenager, even after five years together and countless trips like that.

As they walked through the village, Y/n suddenly stopped when she noticed a large rustic hall with a paper taped to the door. She leaned in to read it better, and Ollie, distracted, almost bumped into her before grabbing her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"They're giving painting classes here. Check it out." Y/n pointed at the poster.

"So now you want to be a painter?" Ollie arched an eyebrow.

"I think it would be fun. Let's try it!"

He laughed.

"So in the space of less than 24 hours, we went from wine tasters to renowned artists?"

"Exactly!" Y/n smiled.

"Well, at least here they won't judge me if I get the colors wrong. Unlike the wine guy yesterday."

Laughing, the two walked inside and to a table where a blonde-haired woman greeted them with a friendly smile. After they signed up, she asked them to wait in the next room, where the teacher would arrive shortly.

"Grazie!" Y/n thanked in Italian, pulling Ollie by the hand into the living room.

As they walked through the open door, Ollie leaned toward her and muttered, "If this professor is anything like the sommelier from yesterday, I'm screwed."

The room was large and well-lit, with a huge window that overlooked a nearby vineyard. Several easels were lined up with large canvases and tubes of paint beside them. Ollie and Y/n sat on the high stools at the back of the room.

"Officially, we are the students at the back." Ollie smiled, satisfied.

"As long as we don't throw paint at each other, I think we're fine."

Ollie picked up one of the tubes of paint and looked at it curiously. "This looks like one of those cartoon paint pots. If I squeeze it, will it spray right in my face?"

"Try it out." Y/n suggested, laughing.

"I'd rather not ruin my dignity so soon."

More people entered the room, and soon the teacher arrived. He introduced himself with a strong accent and explained that they would be painting a Tuscan landscape, showing a canvas for reference.

Ollie leaned over to Y/n and whispered, "He takes this very seriously. If I get one shade of green wrong, will he kick me out?"

Y/n held back her laughter as the teacher handed out the brushes. They exchanged excited glances and held the brushes against their chests, as if they were trophies.

More people arrived, filling the room, being greeted with a warm greeting from the teacher. Y/n and Ollie watched as people entered and where they were sitting.

"We have to stop this habit of observing people. One of these days, someone will get angry and we'll get beaten up."

Ollie Laughed.

"Can we start painting now?"

"Ask the teacher." Y/n shrugs.

"No way. I'm shy."

Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing. "So shy that yesterday, at every vineyard we visited, he asked if he could take a bottle of wine as a free sample."

Ollie laughed at the memory and shrugged.

"This is not shyness, it is a survival strategy."

The teacher turned to the class and announced that they could start painting, as the room was now complete.

Ollie smiled excitedly.

“Finally, a chance to show off my hidden talent.” He opened the paint containers excitedly, squeezing a little of each color onto the paint dish.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head, and began to paint her canvas, looking at the example in front of her and gently running the brush over the white surface.

As the students began their drawings, the teacher walked around the room, making motivational comments about the paintings, praising their creativity, and encouraging the students to express themselves freely in art.

Y/n's screen was starting to gain color and already looked a bit like the model when Ollie leaned towards it.

"I think I'm going to innovate in my design."

Y/n laughed, not taking her eyes off the screen. "Innovate? Ollie, just follow the example up front."

He grimaced and gestured with his hand. 'I'm a man who doesn't follow examples. I set trends.'

Y/n let out a loud laugh, catching the attention of some colleagues in front.

"Scusate!" She smiled shyly and apologized in Italian.

Some smiled sympathetically, while others just frowned and went back to their screens.

When she turned to peek at what Ollie was doing, Y/n's eyes widened as she saw him dipping his brush into the red paint and running it across the canvas with a satisfied smile.

"It's looking nice, Oliver!" He muttered to himself.

Y/n looked between his screen and the model in front of him, holding back a laugh.

"Ollie, this landscape doesn't have any red in it."

He smiled at her and leaned in, leaving a light kiss on her cheek. "I'm drawing a Formula 1 car."

Y/n let out another loud laugh, not noticing more eyes turning towards her.

"Oh, cool. Tuscan landscapes now come with a Formula 1 car in the middle of nowhere!"

"Cool, huh? I'm innovating the world!" Ollie smiled with satisfaction.

Y/n laughed and went back to painting her canvas, trying her best to follow the pattern. Ollie, on the other hand, was focused on adding more details to his 'car'.

When Y/n accidentally made a crooked line, she grumbled softly. Ollie looked to the side and smiled.

"Oh, don't worry. With the right name, this painting could be sold as modern art."

Y/n smiled and looked around. As if in sync, they both noticed that everyone was completely focused on their screens, in an almost reverent silence.

"Are they all very focused or are we just two clowns?"

"A little bit of both. But I like our version better." Ollie smiled and shrugged.

He tried to add more details to his car, but he got the proportions wrong and ended up making it look awkward. Awkwardly, he poked Y/n's waist to get her attention.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye first, already suspecting she would see something comical.

Turning around, he saw a cluster of strange shapes in the middle of the Tuscan landscape.

"It looks like a tractor ran over your car."

Ollie started laughing so hard that the people next to him turned around, frowning. Y/n held back her laughter.

"Quiet!" She whispered to her boyfriend.

He rested his head on the easel, trying to control his laughter. Y/n raised her head and smiled awkwardly at her classmates.

"Ci scusiamo, siamo solo... un po' emozionati." His high school Italian seemed to work, as some smiled, and others simply went back to their screens.

The teacher walked past other students, praising their use of color and technique. When he reached Y/n and Ollie, he looked at their paintings carefully.

To Y/n, he gave a subtle compliment: "Well chosen colors. It's starting to look like the model."

And Y/n smiled in satisfaction.

Looking at Ollie's screen, the professor was silent for a few seconds. He raised his eyebrows as he saw the red F1 car in the middle of the Tuscan hills.

"Interesting... well... innovative."

Y/n held back a laugh as Ollie smirked.

"It's the vision of a misunderstood genius."

He, distracted, gestured as he spoke and, without realizing it, spilled some blue paint on his own lap.

"Now you're part of the art." Y/n laughed.

To retaliate, Ollie took the dirty brush and lightly brushed it across Y/n's arm. Her eyes widened.

"You didn't do it!!"

He smiled mischievously and shrugged.

Y/n took some paint on her finger and spread it on his face. Ollie laughed and retaliated. Soon both of them had paint spread across their arms and faces, trying to hide it so as not to attract the teacher's attention.

"Hey, let's stop this!" Y/n whispered. "We're worse than those rowdy boys from our school!"

Ollie laughed and turned his focus back to the screen, now with his shirt covered in blue paint splatters, his cheeks orange, and his arm marked in light pink. And Y/n wasn't in much better shape.

"That's it, let's stay quiet here in the corner. If the teacher forgets we exist, he won't notice our disastrous state."

Y/n chuckled softly and went back to painting her canvas.

As she tried to finish her work, she couldn't help but glance at Ollie's, which was increasingly chaotic and full of random colors.

"I'm feeling the energy of the canvas." He said, focusing on the painting.

"The only energy I'm feeling is the teacher kicking us out." Y/n rolled her eyes.

The teacher walked to the front of the class and, already noticing that Ollie and Y/n were the most chaotic students, made a subtle comment.

"Guys, art requires patience... and it would be cool to imitate the proposed landscape."

Y/n turned to her boyfriend with an amused smile. "Hey, I think that one was for you!"

Ollie smiled.

"She was definitely for me. The others are focused... look!"

He pointed discreetly with his chin, and Y/n looked around, holding back a laugh at the absolute focus of the other students. Then she went back to painting her canvas, trying her best to keep a serious face.

Ollie suddenly placed his brush on his chin, assuming the posture of a great art critic.

"Art shouldn't be limited by rules. The true artist feels the canvas, lets it flow, you know?"

"Wow, a real rebel artist." Y/n pretended to be impressed.

He nodded seriously.

"This landscape definitely needed a Formula 1 car. It gives it more impact, you know?" His tone of voice sounded like an expert on the subject, and Y/n bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"True. Leonardo da Vinci would be proud."

They continued to laugh and joke, while the other students remained intently focused on their paintings. At one point, an elderly woman in the class sighed and looked at Ollie’s canvas, clearly trying to understand what was going on there. A skinny student nearby glanced quickly and then just as quickly returned to his own painting, as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

Y/n noticed the reactions and whispered to Ollie. "I think you traumatized half the room."

"That's called artistic impact." Ollie smiled in satisfaction.

As the class went on, Y/n and Ollie compared their screens. He argued that his was innovative because it was 'modernising Italy' by adding a Formula 1 car to the hills of Tuscany. Y/n, on the other hand, just said that her painting was practically the original work and therefore much better.

As the class drew to a close, the teacher walked to the front of the room and announced, "Now it's time for us to present our work, even if it's incomplete. Let's discuss the techniques we used."

Ollie turned to Y/n, his expression panicked.

"Techniques used?!"

"Yes." She nodded, holding back a laugh.

Ollie pointed to his screen, which was a mess of colors. "I don't even know what technique I used! I can't take this up there and present it!"

Y/n to them.

"Oh, now you're embarrassed to show off your groundbreaking work?"

"YES!" Ollie laughed and shook his head.

Y/n looked ahead and saw that the teacher had his back to them, talking to some students. She then turned to Ollie with a mischievous smile.

"What if we ran away before we had to show this?"

Ollie's eyes widened for a second, but then he smiled, loving the idea.

"Are you serious?"

"For sure."

"Then let's go before anyone notices."

Y/n held back her laughter, but before they left, she picked up a pen next to the paints and wrote at the bottom of her canvas:

'Sono la fidanzata del tizio che ha progettato una monoposto di Formula 1, proprio qui accanto. Mi scuso per il suo disastro. 'È stata una lezione fantastica!'

She even drew an arrow pointing to Ollie's easel and, satisfied, took his hand, quickly standing up.

"What did you write?" Ollie asked as they walked past the other students.

Y/n to them.

"An apology for our disaster."

He laughed along, with no time to protest. They left the room silently, escaping before the teacher could notice.

As soon as they crossed the door, they walked through the corridors with low laughter, until they reached the outside of the hall. Ollie laughed and turned to Y/n.

"That wasn't romantic at all!"

"Anything we do together is romantic." Y/n laughed too and shrugged.

Ollie smiled at the response, not hesitating before pulling her in for a kiss.

Their lips touched softly, but the affection soon evolved into a deeper, more involving kiss. He held her by the waist, bringing her closer, while Y/n rested her hands on his chest. Time seemed to slow down there, in the middle of the Italian village, with the scent of flowers in the air and the murmur of conversations around. Ollie slid his fingers down the back of her neck, deepening the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away with a smile against her lips.

He looked into her eyes and whispered, "Shall we see more vineyards?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing.

"No more wine for us on this trip... In fact, we've had enough wine to last us a lifetime, and we're only 19!"

Ollie chuckled and kissed her cheek before intertwining their hands. They continued walking through the stone streets of the city, unhurriedly, enjoying the moment.

[canarias-stuff]

By Your Side

Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader

Summary:

You never asked to awake as a hunter, an A-Rank hunter nonetheless. You were pretty athletic and quick witted, but you had always hated fighting.

You wanted to live a normal life, one where you were just a teacher for a bunch of high schoolers. So yes, a lot of people criticize you after finding out that you were a high ranked mage who decided against entering dungeons – against fighting for society.

However, you are glad that you never gave a damn about people’s opinions about your life and didn’t change your mind, because now, facing this B, maybe A-rank monsters, you were sure that you made the right choice by not accepting the offers from the guilds back then.

…

Or, a story where you are a teacher at Sung Jin-Ah' school, when the dungeon break started inside the building.

(Spoilers from chapter 117 onwards)

(Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader)

Author's note:

Hello everyone!

So, I am new to the fandom! I finished the manhwa a few days ago and just catch up with the anime. How can I person become so obsessed in just a few days??? Hellooo? Sung Jin-Woo? What the heel did you do?

Anyway, the thing is, I nedded to write something, and I decided to use the dungeon break that happens inside Jin-Ah's high school.

I hope you enjoy!^^

You never asked to awake as a hunter, an A-Rank hunter nonetheless. You were pretty athletic and quick witted, but you had always hated fighting.

Scouts from various guilds reached you after your evaluation, asking you to join them, but you politely declined all offers saying that you already had something in mind. They all probably thought that you were waiting for a specific guild to contact you, but the truth was that… 

“I want to be a teacher.” You told the chairman of Hunters Association, when he asked to have a meeting.

“Is that so?” The chairman, Go Gun-Hee, smiled understandingly at you.

“I…I know that people will judge me for my choice, but I have my reasons.”

“It’s okay, I won’t force you, Miss (L/n). I just want to let you know that there will always be a place for you here too, if you ever change your mind.”

This time you smiled.

“Thank you, but I don’t think that I will change my mind.”

You wanted to live a normal life, one where you were just a teacher for a bunch of high schoolers. So yes, a lot of people criticize you after finding out that you were a high ranked mage who decided against entering dungeons – against fighting for society.

“Don’t listen to them, (Y/n) Unnie!” Jin-Ah exclaimed once, when you told the young girl what had been happening around you. “You can do whatever you like! Who are these people to judge what you want, anyway?!”

“I mean…it’s just irritating…” You sighed. “Is it so wrong of me to want to be something that’s not a hunter?”

A hand patted your head, and you turned your head to look at your sweet boyfriend, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“No, you are not wrong.” Jin-Woo said, his voice calm and soft as always. “As long as this is the path that you decide for yourself, (Y/n).”

Your chest felt warm hearing those words, and you couldn’t hold back the small smile and the laugh that escaped your lips. 

“Thank you.” You muttered, before kissing his cheek.

“Woah! Big words from someone who always lands at the hospital, Mister E-rank hunter…” Jin-Ah interrupted, provoking her older brother, who just rolled his eyes.

But of course, that was a conversation before Jin-Woo reawakened anyway.

However, you are glad that you never gave a damn about people’s opinions about your life and didn’t change your mind, because now, facing this B, maybe A-rank monsters, you were sure that you made the right choice by not accepting the offers.

People were screaming, the sound of doors and windows being broken were echoing around the whole school. The walls and floor were painted red – red with blood, the blood of your precious students –, and you hated that you couldn’t help everyone.

It was definitely a dungeon break, and of all places, it had to happen inside the school, a building holding more than 300 students.

You knew that some of them escaped, it was lunch break and a lot of students were probably having lunch outside when the problem started, but still, there were a lot still inside the classrooms, cafeteria and halls…and now…most of them were probably…

The green monster – an orc, if you remembered correctly – swung the ax towards you, and you blocked it with the sword that you had inside your space magic inventory.

Mages usually were the ones supporting a party from behind, but once depleted of mana, they were just like any other normal human, unable to protect themselves. But you never liked the idea of being helpless, so twice a week you trained kumdo under the supervision of Song Chi-Yu, who also awakened as a mage, but never left behind the martial arts.

You jumped, leaving some distance between you and the orc, and when it charged in your direction, you deflected the ax, using it as a step stone, and swung your sword, cutting off the monster head.

“Go! Go inside the classroom!” You yelled at some of your students who were still in the hall. “Put the tables and chairs at the door and make a barricade! I'm gonna buy you as much time as I can!”

You knew that it was useless, it was only you – an A-rank hunter without experience – against a crowd of orcs. These monsters would go through any barricade in just a second, but right now, any second that you could buy for these kids was precious.

“(Y/n) unnie!” Jin-Ah yelled by the door, when another orc came in your direction.

This time you used magic, an ice shard appeared in your hands, and at the next second it was stuck in the head of the orc, who fell lifeless to the ground.

“I said: Go inside, Jin-Ah!” You yelled again, eyes never leaving the opposite side of the hall, where more monsters were coming from.

“BUT!”

“This is an order from your teacher ! Go inside!”

“Come on, Jin-Ah!” Song-Yi pulled her friend inside and closed the door, making you sighed relieved that someone was there for the girl who you saw as your own sister.

Now…

There were a lot of monsters coming, and fighting in such a narrow space was difficult enough against only one orc, if they cornered you, it was game over. You didn’t have other choice.

The air in the hall got cold, ice shards started to appear around you…

I need to reduce the number of monsters, no matter what.

…and then a shadow, a black and blue shadow in the form of a bear suddenly showed up.

“...Tusk…?” You muttered, (e/c) eyes wide with surprise.

The bear was smaller than you remembered, but it probably adapted its size to fit in the hall.

“Hah…” You almost laughed.

Your boyfriend surely was the best.

“Let's go, Tusk!”

…

You were panting – tired of averting attacks and almost out of mana –, your vision was starting to swirl, black dots appearing here and there, and to make things worse, you were probably suffering from blood loss from the cut on your back.

Tusk was a great help, but everytime that it got destroyed, it took a few moments to come back, and that was a disadvantage for your side.

How many orcs did you and Tusk kill anyway? You didn’t know anymore, and it’s not like you were counting, but didn’t it have an end? No matter how many you pierced with ice shards or cut with your sword, those damn monsters keep coming.

You just took your eyes from the monsters for a second, just a second, and then, you were being thrown through the door of the classroom that you were trying to block. Your students yelled your name, when you hit the floor coughing and trying to pull some air in your lungs at the same time.

Jin-Ah came in your direction and helped you up, and then you felt how her hands were trembling. There was no need to look behind you to know that not only Jin-Ah, but all students, were more than terrified right now.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your panicking heart. Nothing good would come if you lose to your own anxiety.

“Stay behind me.” You muttered, pushing the girl to the back of the classroom.

You were all surrounded, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold against the orcs. How long has it been since this horror movie started? Where was the Hunter Association? Where was the cavalry?

Two monsters charged, and you cut an arm of one with your sword, while Tusk bit the head of the other one, but you didn’t have time to block the punch that came from another orc that came inside the room.

It hurted like hell – and you were sure that you had a broken rib or two –, however you didn’t have the time to stop, those creatures were going for your students. 

“I’m right here, bastards!” You yelled, using your weapon to stand up, and sending ice shards immediately, piercing the monsters’ heads. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on my students!”

You crossed the classroom with an agility that you didn’t know you possessed – adrenaline , you thought – and cut the opponents as best as you could considering that your body was screaming in pain. 

Then the thing that scared you the most happened. One orc passed through you and Tusk, and raised the weapon at Jin-Ah’s direction.

No! No! No!

“JIN-AH!”

Suddenly, a red arm shot up from the shadows, grabbing the orc’s arm.

For a second you thought that you would pass out of relief, because of course your boyfriend would leave a guard, ‘ No, three guards.’ – you thought as other 2 red orcs appeared – for his baby sister.

“You could have shown up earlier!”

The red high orc looked at you with a confused expression before punching the enemy through the roof.

…

With Tusk and the three high orcs' help, you thought that now you may have a chance to win and leave this situation, but then, a new figure came around the corner, bigger and more intimidating than the others.

You instinctively knew that he was the boss.

Great, just great.

It yelled and pointed the weapon that it was caring at you, and really, people didn’t have to understand monster language to know what it was saying.

He wanted you dead.

“Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.” You said sarcastically, as a few ice shards flew at the boss's direction.

But well, a boss was a boss at the end of the day.

The shards fell to the ground, small pieces of ice scattered all around the floor.

That’s bad.

Even if you were a newbie – no experience at all –, if you had to fight just the boss, you may have stood a chance. However, after who knows how long killing and almost being killed by its minions, you were exhausted and now completely out of mana, that attack was the last one you could conjure.

With hands trembling, you pointed the sword at the boss, but one of Jin-Woo high orcs pushed you to the side, shaking it head, as if telling you to take a break.

Before you could say a word of protest, Jin-Ah and Song-Yi grabbed your arms and pulled you at the back of the class.

“Stop (Y/n) unnie.” Jin-ah’s voice was weak, tears threatening to fall any moment as she checked your injuries. “Stay here, please…”

You didn’t dare to speak – you didn’t even know if you had the strength to – so you just patted the girl’s head and hugged her with your other arm, (e/c) eyes never leaving the dungeon boss, who was yelling something at the direction of Jin-Woo’s shadows.

The green orcs attacked together this time, slashing the shadow soldiers with fury, never giving them a chance to regenerate. And when you least expected, the boss approached you and your students while the shadows were occupied with its soldiers.

Pushing Jin-Ah to Song-Yi, you immediately blocked the boss sword with your own.

What a brutal attack!

The sword felt impossibly heavy – or maybe the boss was just too strong. Or both. There was no way to tell. Your arms and back screamed in pain as the floor cracked beneath your feet, buckling under the pressure of the attack.

The boss was yelling again, red eyes not even looking at you, but at Jin-Ah.

You gritted your teeth – anger consuming your being – and pushed with all your strength the enemy's weapon, making him take a step back.

“Where are you looking at, your piece of shit?!” The insult left your mouth so naturally that you almost felt proud. If Jin-Woo was here, he would probably be surprised, but would still laugh at your words. The situation was fitting after all. “Your opponent is me!”

The boss growled at you, an animalistic sound that made you and all your students flinch, before it charged at you again – this time, it was looking properly at you.

So now, I am considered an enemy.

You leap to the side, narrowly dodging the attack, and raise your sword to strike –but the boss catches it, halting your movements. Before you can react, he swings his weapon at you once more. You didn’t have time to think, you let go of your sword and threw yourself to the ground to avoid the blade that would have cut you in half – the monster grunted loudly, probably irritated that you avoided certain death and crushed your sword using just his bare hands.

The students gasped horrified at the demonstration of strength, if the boss could break an A-Rank weapon with bare hands, they (and also you), didn’t want to think about what could happen if he got his hands on any of you.

Conjuring a second (and last) weapon from your magic space inventory – a dagger of all things –, you stared at the monster, analyzing its movements and waiting for an opening.

You never saw Jin-Woo fighting, but you knew that his chosen weapon was a dagger, if not, you were sure that he was just punching monsters inside the dungeons, however, one thing that you learned from him when fighting with a dagger, was that everything was a matter of timing.

“It doesn't matter if the opponent is a monster or a human.” Jin-Woo said once, while the two of you were preparing dinner. “There’s always an opening, an opportunity to strike.”

“Andddd you are telling me this because…?” You joked, pushing him with your hips.

“Well, you never know when you will need the knowledge.” He answered with a shrug.

I’m glad that I listened to his battle’s advice.

You didn’t have another choice if not dodge the attacks for now, you couldn’t risk breaking your dagger trying to stop the sword. You were smaller and faster than the boss, you need to use it in your favour.

An opening, you just need an opening. One second was enough.

And as if your prayers were heard, the boss slammed the sword in the ground trying to beat you, resulting in the sword getting stuck on the floor.

That’s my chance!

You charged at the dungeon boss, his right side open for an attack, all you needed to do was strike it on the neck and things would be over.

But you were naive.

“Ah, but remember that the higher the rank, the more intelligent they are, be it people or monsters.” Your black haired boyfriend warned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that not everyone plays fair.”

The monster smirked – Was that even possible? But it did look smug! – and when you realized what was happening, it was too late. You barely had the time to block the sword that surely wasn’t stuck at the floor at all.

You were sent flying, back at the hall, where you hit the already damaged walls. The air left your lungs, and for a second everything went black. Your body hit the floor, and the dagger that you were holding fell from your hands, you didn’t have the energy to hold it or to get up anymore. Something warm was running down your face, and the strong smell of iron invaded your nostrils. 

You were bleeding…

Hah…great…

…and probably had a concussion.

Double great.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus, trying to make the world stop spinning, trying to hold back the urge to vomit, trying to regain any leftover energy to stand up, because you could hear your students screaming your name at the top of their lungs.

They need you.

Jin-Ah needed you.

Tears of frustration started to form in your eyes, no matter how much you were forcing your body to get up, it wasn’t responding to your wants.

Another scream, Song-Yi was screaming Jin-Ah’s name.

Please, please, get up!

But your legs and arms weren’t moving.

Get up! Get up!

From where you were, you couldn’t see what was happening inside the classroom, so your atupid brain was painting the worst scenarios.

Silence.

Oh God…please, no…

Suddenly the boss yelled, and at the same time you felt a big source of magic power approaching.

The whole building trembled, pieces of the roof falling to the ground. There was smoke coming from inside the classroom, and among the sounds coming from there, you heard his voice.

“You’re safe now.”

You wanted to cry, he came. Jin-Woo really came. And he arrived, shutting up the damn monsters.

“It’s alright now.”

“Oppa!”

Jin-Ah’s voice made you release a breath that you didn’t even realize that you were holding.

She is okay. Jin-Ah is safe.

“I’m sorry, I’m late…”

No…you’re not. You thought, closing your eyes.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked, and you were glad to hear your students' voices. “Where is (Y/n)?”

“In the hall! (Y/n) unnie, s-she's in the hall! T-That monster, it attacked her!”

The magical power in the air seemed to disappear for a moment, and then it came back with almost the double of force, it was so intense that you could feel it almost crushing you.

“Igris…take care of Jin-Ah.” His voice was controlled, and you knew that he was barely holding back his anger. “Everyone else, take the students and head down first.”

And now you could finally let your body relax. Jin-Woo would take care of things from here. You didn’t need to worry anymore.

Maybe the relief was so big that you lost consciousness for a moment, because when you realized what was happening again, you could see your boyfriend pressing the stupid dungeon boss on the wall by the neck.

Hah…

“Serves…you right…” You muttered, a smirk on your lips as you saw the desperate look on the orc’s face. The face of someone who was facing death itself.

Jin-Woo immediately made eye contact with you, his beautiful gray eyes getting wide as soon as he accessed your wounds, at least the visible ones.

“Thanks for coming…” You tried to smile, but no smile would make your boyfriend less worried now. And it was your impression, or it was getting hard to breathe? Did a rib punctured your lungs?

“(Y/n)...” It was so good to hear your name, even if it sounded strangled.

“Hey babe…” You greeted, coughing blood as soon as the words left your lips. You saw Jin-Woo make a move to let go of the orc, but you glared at him, daring your boyfriend to abandon his duty as a S-Rank to help her. “Don’t you dare let go of this bastard.”

“I need to treat you now.” He said, voice serious, but still stayed where he was.

You grunted, you couldn’t move a finger, so yes, maybe you were in need of medical attention, but looking around and seeing the…blood trail that the orcs left behind, you couldn’t care less about your condition.

“If you let go of this piece of shit…I’m going to break up with you, got it?!” 

Who would have thought that mere words would make one of the strongest hunters in the world flinch?

“This is not the time to jok-”

“Because of this guy, my students are…they are…” You couldn’t say that word, and it made you more angry. “If you don’t want to be single by the next minute Sung Jin-Woo, do me a favor and give that…” You glared at the boss dungeon. “...hell.”

And with those words, you use all your energy. You heard your boyfriend call your name, but the world went black before you could mutter another word.

At least now, everything would be okay.

…

When you woke up, the white ceiling of a hospital room was staring back at you. The room was bright, the smell of antiseptic was pretty strong and you could hear the beeps of a heart monitor – your heart monitor, you were alive. There was also an IV drip on your arm – with (probably) a lot of pain killer –, and someone was holding your hand.

“Good morning.”

As you looked up, you were greeted by the expression of relief from your boyfriend.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)?”

Like shit. You wanted to say, but you decided to entertain him.

“Like a truck just ran over me, and came back on reverse.” You answered. “Did you get the plate? I want to press charges.”

Jin-Woo arched an eyebrow, amused by your choice of words.

“Don’t worry, I already took care of it.”

You smiled and closed your eyes again, letting a relieved sigh escape your lips. It was really over.

“How is Jin-Ah? How are all the students?”

Jin-Woo seemed to stop to think for a moment, as if pondering what to say.

“And don’t lie.” You added.

“Jin-Ah is in this hospital as well, with a few bruises, but she is going to be okay, just like the other students that you saved.”

“Any other…survivors?” You asked, but Jin-Woo just closed his eyes and shook his head. “...Dammit…”

“You did what you could.” He interjected immediately, silencing the negative thoughts creeping into your mourning mind. “You’re not even a hunter, yet you stood your ground against A-Rank monsters alone. You should be proud, because without you, Jin-Ah and the others might not have made it out alive.”

There were a few tears ready to fall from your eyes, you were frustrated, angry and so sad, but somewhere in your brain, you knew that what your boyfriend was saying was also true. In the end you did what was possible in that situation, and you saved a few lives. So instead of using words, you just nodded, to let the man know that you understand what he was saying.

“But you really gave me a scare back there.” Jin-Woo said, his grip on your hand tightening. “Passing out after threatening to break up with me.”

You couldn’t hold back a snort. What kind of nonsense was this guy sputtering now? Drying the tears with the back of your other hand, you opened your eyes to take a look at the man beside your hospital bed.

“So, which one was scarier? Me passing out or the threat?”

“Both.” He deadpanned, but you knew that he was trying to light up the mood.

For a few moments you two didn’t say anything, but you knew that you needed to tell him a few things, for your and his well being.

“I…I’m sorry for scaring you.” You finally say, looking at his gray eyes. When he didn’t say a word, you decided to continue. “But back there, I was…I was so mad at that damn monster, at the whole situation, that I wanted you to end it before trying to come to me.”

“I know.” The man muttered, his thumb tracing circle patterns at the back of your hand.

“But next time, I promise to not threaten you.”

He frowned.

“There won’t be a next time.”

You smiled.

“I know, but even if it did happen, you would come again, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” He said, flicking your forehead. “Stupid.”

“Hey! What was that for?!” You exclaimed, with a hand massaging the place where you were hit.

“I’m glad that you are looking out for other people, but you should also take care of yourself!”

“It’s not like I didn’t try…” You muttered, because it was true. Who in their right mind would want to be at the brink of death?

“Try harder!”

“Says the guy who jumped inside gates as if going on a walk in the park before reawakening!”

This time Jin-Woo blushed embarrassed.

“T-this and that are different!”

“How so?!” You questioned, holding back a laugh. Your boyfriend was just too cute to mess with.

He sighed, before putting a hand on your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes, enjoying the quiet moment.

“Thank you for coming.” You muttered, happy with his strong and comforting presence beside you.

“You’re welcome.” Came the answer, way closer than you expected.

When you opened your eyes, you saw gray. They were staring at you intensely, trying to confirm if you were really there, if you were really okay, if you were really alive.

“I’m here.” You say.

“Yes, you are.” He answers.

And his lips met yours, as if confirming what his eyes were trying to tell him.

You were still here, by his side.

And he was there, by yours.

Ao3 link

End notes:

Wellll, first: English is not my mother tongue, so you may find some grammar (or spelling) errors…^^'' I promise to correct them as soon as I spot them.^^

And second: I know that I changed some things - it was necessary since Reader was there -, but still, I hope that you enjoyed the scenario.^^

Thank you guys for reading!^^

See you!

[themoreyoustrex]

I feel like part of the urge to say stuff like that, especially coming from AFAB people (like me), stems from a sort of automatic expression of a specific type of feminism. A lot of cis women (and even some AFAB trans/nonbinary people who currently relate or have previously related to womanhood) have had to unlearn a lot of internalized misogyny surrounding gender performance. If we haven't experienced it ourselves, we often have friends - especially in adolescence, when everyone's insecure - who have had low self-esteem because they're not "being a woman" correctly.

When I still identified as a woman, the idea that I got to pick what that meant was extremely freeing. Cis girls who feel insecure about their voice or having facial hair getting to go, "I don't need to perform societal expectations of womanhood because the gender binary isn't real!" was a huge deal. And for a long time, telling your friend that "that feature is a feminine feature, because it's on you!" was considered the best and most validating way to lift a femme friend up when they were feeling insecure about gender performance.

So, I think a lot of it comes from a place of good intentions and assuming that trans women are going through the same gender process that they did, which isn't always the case. If society at large has been inclined to see someone as a woman for their entire life, they may feel like femininity is a box they'd rather not be trapped in. Conversely, if society at large is determined to deny someone's womanhood, they may see femininity as something valuable, either due to preference or safety reasons.

I'd never considered this before this post, and it's a good thing to keep in mind, because my gut reaction would definitely be to say one of those things that OP finds frustrating, because that's what I was taught was the uplifting, feminist response to hearing someone worry about their gender presentation! I never thought about how it could come across as invalidating.

i hate when you're in a trans-friendly environment and talk about like. doing things to pass better and TME people are like "what even is feminine anyways? what is a woman? the things women are made to feel like they have to do are so misogynistic, I think you shouldn't be worrying about those things."

like thanks for the feminism 101 dude, but I don't need musing about the nature of misogyny, I've been a feminist for over 10 years. this is about how people treat me poorly if I don't pass well enough. like i agree with you on all accounts, seeing as how I am affected by these things, but like. believing they're wrong doesn't mean I'm not still pressured by them. :/

like i went into the voice training clinic last year and I told the lady how I wanted to train my voice to be more feminine because I was struggling with keeping it in register, and it's been upsetting for me because when I fall out of register people treat me differently, gender me as a man, view me with suspicion, and I'm worried about how it might happen when a man tries to hit on me or something and the idea of a man thinking i "tricked him" into "being gay" is really scary for me, and she's like "oh, what even Is a feminine voice, anyways?" like. thanks girlie. it's definitely just my internal perceptions and not my lived experience.

just, the way TME people just Assume trans women don't know about feminism is so frustrating. constantly on the back foot like "no, no, I'm a feminist, believe me, however, I've been threatened for not passing well enough, so I face a lot of pressure to do so, sorry that you think I'm enforcing the gender binary by trying to preserve my safety."

[wings-of-ink]

Hi!! I have a bit of constructive criticism, if I may 😅 English is not my first language, so pardon me if I sound rude, it's definitely not my intention!

Something that confuses me is how people act when the MC has to lift their shirt, when in comparison characters like Oswin and Duri can be shirtless/completely naked and people not batting an eye at it. It's funny and confusing why people jump at MC taking out their shirt as if it's scandalous 😅. I guess if that was the reaction to all the characters it wouldn't be as weird, but MC seems to be singled out. For example, on that scene where the characters ask to analyze MC's mark and they say "I can just cover what I'm not comfortable showing", that answer doesn't really make sense to MC's who consider "it's just skin", as can be stated if you choose to take a bath on the river after meeting Nathan; I'd imagine my MC just lifting it naturally, or even taking out his shirt completely without any problems, going as far as being confused as to why Oswin is making a big deal of it. This is just one example of something that happens some other times, if you want I can list them, so it's easier for you to check them out! The characters reactions seem pretty on point, tho! Zahn and Duri don't seem to mind anyone naked, Rune is respectful regardless, and Oswin seems to only be affected by MC's nakedness (which can be explained by his apparent feelings for MC? I'm not on his route but it looks like he has a crush on MC, I could be wrong😆). The problem comes mostly to how MC responds, I think? As in, couldn't they be as comfortable about being naked as Duri is? So just a bit of a twist on MC's answers and it would flow naturally! Coding wise, maybe putting a choice of how comfortable your MC is with showing their body at some point in game/the beginning? Like, "never comfortable", "uncomfortable with strangers", "choose as happens if they're comfortable or not", "always comfortable", etc.

Anyways, sorry for the long text and thank you for your time! I absolutely love the game and constantly replay it, thank you for your hard work and good job! :)

Hello dear and thanks for stopping by! And not to worry, I didn't think your message was rude. Below I've explained where my thinking is in the way I've written what you're discussing.

The reason those parts are written that way is not because it is intended to seem "scandalous." Nudity in general isn't really considered as such in the world and it's entirely up to personal preference. The reason those scenes are written in such a way is that I'm writing from the eyes of many MCs with many different possible comfort-levels. I didn't find it necessary to track code for the MC's feelings on being exposed when it is easier to write a general statement that suggest the MC does or does not cover themselves and the like (where I could, I added reaction choices). And sometimes, it's better to error on the MC being a little bit discreet because of that. Could I add code for this? Yes, but overall I didn't see the purpose in it (I have a mountain of variables as is and some things just need to be trimmed).

I also need to consider that situationally, each MC will react different. With the variety of situations in the story, even when MC is comfortable, there could be situations that they would not be. Getting an exam from a stranger is different from your crush walking in on you or you wanting to tease and such.

During the forest-bathing scene, the MC also needed to take consideration for keeping their mark concealed. Oswin was cautious because they just met Zahn and he knows that Nathan has a unique curiosity for magical goods. As we learn in later chapters, this is wisdom since some people covet magical things and are willing to do horrible things to get them.

Oswin also has a particular protectiveness over MC, especially depending on a few choices about MC's feelings for him he may react different in certain scenes.

I hope that covers it in a satisfactory way. At least for now, I don't think I will set any code variable for this at least for the time being. I'm not sure how often MC will end up nude either, lol. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! I'm glad you're enjoying the game! ^_^

[sunnydayaoe]

For the character ask game

Fresh, 2, 5 and 10 :D

referring to this. hard questions actually!

yapping for just sooooo long under cut woof

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

I can't really pick X[. I genuinely just like all his canon material, the reason I've been obsessed with him for years. I like how much of an asshole he is, seeing himself as genuinely better than those around him and deserving of Better things, I like how his wild oscillations on his self image, his extremely fraught relationship to positive emotions and those who are able to let him feel them. there really isn't something about him I would say I didn't like, even a little. He has a lot of things that just make him very relatable as well, in his canon personality, that I usually don't see in characters. His aroaceness of course, but I also like sillier things about him. He likes kissing people a lot, he's very grabby most of the time, he's colorful! His put on character he plays "the 90's freak" is cute as heck. I just enjoy whatever he does. I like his canon so much I erm. dislike most non-canon complaint hcs or interpretations [that aren't surface level design changes] being honest HAHA. obsessed with canon fresh.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

I don't know X[[[ even harder qeustion... I don't erm. listen to music...? not a music person unfortunately. I guess. "The Main Character" by Will Wood. Doesn't fit fully to me, but I do enjoy the framing oneself as both a character and one that you Like. It also has a lot of his entitlement and the way he sees himself as Deserving of better than the vast majority of people. Also the quite part is very him to me... nervous and convincing, "I must be good enough!! you have to like me!! I can't die!!!!" its verryyyy him to me. Again, not fully him [Fresh wouldn't see himself as the main character] but a tertiary one who has a dedicated fanbase, but I do like it.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

He's kinda half terrified half pissed the fuck off at the creators; I really don't think he'd Want to be friends. or it would be way to unbalanced for it to be true friendship, he'd always be on guard and want to impress me/want me to like him, and intern slowly grow more and more resentful of the power I have over him. On my end, would I actually enjoy being friends with him... he activates a lot of chemicals my irl Real best friends and partner do, because of erm. mental illness. Horrible little freak has crawled into [chosen person] zone and its genuinely a little embarrassing. So I'd definitely try my hardest to do literally anything to get him to like me, like uh, I do with the rest of my chp haha. It would just freak him out though, even if I was in universe and not a creator, the idea of someone not being... self-serving? If I was too giving with him, it would make him start second guessing things. He doesn't just assume people are being selfless. What am I gaining from this? what do I want from him? it can't JUST be that I like him, there needs to be more. I don't think I'm selfless enough to pull off the like... type of people Fresh actually Believed to be fully selfless. SO yepp the distrust would go harddddd [like it would be selfish, because I would probably be obsessed with him in the same way I am of a very select few people, but like. it doesn't Read as selfish on an outside perspective, which is what he would have.]

[Extra for 5, I have like. fifty cb and fresh songs... "Feel Better" by Penelope Scott, "Cosmos" by Yabadum and "Love Like You" by Rebecca suger all make me feel INSNAEEE [non-romantic interpretations of the songs]]

[robinnblood]

Explanation

These did just accidentally become short drabbles ngl

*I haven't rewatched some seasons in a real long time so sorry if I'm rusty on the information*

Also I didn't include bigb, etho, and impulse just because I got kinda burnt out at the end (even though I was the most excited about writing bigB, I might do that one day) just know impulse was mostly because of his betrayal in 3rd life

Bdubs- the desolation

Bdubs as the boogeyman likes to get it done with, it doesn't matter if it's an acquaintance or a friend he will kill them, he loses people’s trust with a swing of a sword, even if he wins the battle he doesn't win the war

In last life he fears losing Etho, he's told that he's already lost him and that he's not wanted anymore, he wants to disprove it but before he can he's already dead. In limited life he has the same fear that he's losing except this time he already knows it. His family doesn't love him and he's disconnected from other teams already so he just has to wait and turmoil until it's over.

Gem- the slaughter

She's new, she's fresh, she has potential.

Gem comes into the life series like a riot, immediately becoming the dominant one when it comes to pvp. Everyone already knew she was good but then she made them turn into each other. Two sides are formed in secret life once she starts to stain the server with blood, she killed, and those she killed killed, and they kept killing. She brought terror and heartbreak, people flead, they fought back, but it was no use. She lead those out for blood, she shook the server and started the biggest mass killing that wasn't the end of it all, she brought war

Scar- the lonely

He used to have a friend, in 3rd life, he used to have a friend in magic mountain but the curse of bloodlust leaves him alone, he's rejected by other groups and he dies without friends. He should have a friend in double life, but he doesn't, Grian is desperate to escape Scar and he's aware of it, forever without connection again… secret life is promising, kind of, then he's screwed over by his task, again, and again, it forces people to dislike him, to leave him to himself alone. When he wins secret life he doesn't even register he's alone again, still looking for Pearl, but she's gone. He's the only one to ever survive after a life series but that just means he's now truly alone, with no one to come find him. His only visitors are the tricks his mind plays on him to comfort him with the voices of those he once knew

Grian- the buried

Okay so this is definitely the one people were were asking about the most and I can see why, when you think of Grian he doesn't seem like he would be defined by claustrophobia, you'd probably think the eye but I didn't feel that fit his character much honestly

Grian is weighed down by his debt to Scar, what he does and how he acts is completely changed by his own suffocating guilt. He becomes restricted in what he can do like his wings were clipped, during the war in 3rd life he hides underground in the bunker hoping that being surrounded on all sides will protect him.

During double life he is trapped with scar again but this time he tries to escape, but instead his first death is underground while his soulmate suffocates in soulmates

Throughout the entirety of the life series he is trapped in a cycle of watching his allies die, he knows they'll all die but he can't escape it.

Martyn- the dark

I didn't want to rely too heavily on the watchers but with them in mind, they're an entity that is always hidden in the shadows lurking, Martyn isn't the one watching, he's the one acutely aware that something he can't see is there, hidden in the dark. The watchers are beyond the realm everyone else resides in and martyn takes a step in to it

For some non-watcher related reasons, he's always the one exploring the nether going into the unknown head first

It's never clear where he'll end, always misstepping in the wrong direction, in 3rd life he's loyal to Ren and would give his life forever him yet out lives him, double life he stumbled and landed somewhere he didn't think possible (without a soulmate) because he went in blind, limited life he blinded Impulse and Scott by doing something unexpected and unknown in the life series by not being fair in the final

Lizzie- the vast

Everything going on around Lizzie seems so much bigger than her, she has her own schemes and plots yet she always gets caught up in other people's plots, she dies in wild life because she just happened to be someplace at the wrong time that had nothing to do with her, a whole arching plot of revenge and murder and she was just there…

In last life she dies in confusion with no real idea of why she's even being targeted, in limited life she was only just a small ant randomly placed into a huge garden for a short period of time and taken out again, having to figure out the environment alone as everyone else had a more important goal in mind

Secret life she dies by pure accident forever falling in the vastness of the void as everything moves without her

Mumbo- the stranger

While yes mumbo is sort of a clown that's not why I put him as the stranger

Mumbo is silly guy but because of that it's hard to understand him, during secret life he seems obvious and inviting yet it turns out he had different intentions the whole time

He's nervous and docile but when opportunity rises he'll willingly indulge in chaos and violence, unlike his usual self he becomes bloodthirsty and needy, not wanting to let go of Grian, needing him for himself.

After he dies in wild life he's brought back, but not as himself but as a taxidermy replica, pale skin, glossed over eyes, rotting and drooling. It's someone unrecognizable who doesn't get anxious anymore, isn't worried anymore, not nice, not docile, blood thirsty and willing to betray someone he once cared for in a whim

Pearl- the lonely

I mean c'mon what else was it going to be?

Isolated in a tall tower shivering, looking into the distance to see small moving figures. The only companion is her wolf Tilly but she can't actually talk, Pearl just projects her thoughts on to her and honestly that's even more sad. She's abandoned by her soulmate and the rest of the server is terrified of her. Even when they reunite it's short lived, too short to warm up again

Even when she did have allies they die before her, leaving her to fend for herself in the end, in secret life when it's just her and Scar she doesn't die close and in his blade but out of sight, without even realizing she left.

Ren- the flesh

Ren mutilates himself, in 3rd life he kneels at the altar and willingly chooses to have his head chopped off, leaving him grayed and bloodied, he's no longer than man he was, he becomes rash, angry, and commanding, a husk of what he was, he's the meat being butchered

Even in double life we see how puts flesh on his base, disfigures it to ward off enemies, and calls it home

Wild life is obvious, he changes, tears apart, and stitches his body back together to hold on closer to martyn, his body becomes a corrupted meat pile with a voice that's not quite his anymore

Skizz- the spiral

Honestly surprised with myself that it took so long for me to get Skizz’s when it was right in front of me

Skizz spirals, he loses, he gets lower, he dies, and then loses again. After getting on his red life he starts to get manic, impatient, he needs blood.

In 3rd life he joins the red army, not out of violence but out of loyalty but he then he dies and he rushes into battle without another thought, he does it again and again, limited life he starts out with love in his heart and tries to give compliments and joy out, but then he's killed. And he's killed again right after by someone he thought he was going to team with, that's when he gets mad. He seeks out revenge and murder

He never starts violent, but all his deaths are in bloodlust

Scott- the corruption

Even though the corruption most of the time manifests with sickness and disease it also appears in unhealthy love, companionship, and loss of individuality

Scott throughout out the life series has been known for sacrifice and the support of his allies, in 3rd life he loved Jimmy to a sickening degree and died because of it, last life he was infected with the boogeyman curse and he let it take him down to his red life rather than get rid of it. Double life he had his unhealthy love with Pearl where they would harm each other but were bound together no matter what. In limited life when he's the boogeyman again he does the opposite and gets rid of the infection right away, ruining the fun.

He starts to loose his identity over the season, giving, giving, and giving more of himself to others so they have a better chance of winning, he's less prone to killing if it's not for an allie or self defense, since winning he has no attachment to the games

Joel- the extinction

Joel was a lone wolf in 3rd life, he didn't have long term allies yet was in the war that took place, he burnt walls and killed no one, the only sign of him was his lonely dogs lost in the desert after all humans had died. It was like an apocalypse had happened

Afterwards in last life he killed people every opportunity he got adding to the end of the server. Double life he burnt everything destroying just the people but their homes and civilization. He might've died early in limited life but he left craters in the earth like the aftermath of war.

But once he let go of his bloodlust and made a major change to be peaceful is when he finally prevailed and survived

Jimmy- the end

This one was easy and I had no trouble with it, for obvious reasons, he's been dead first almost every time and when he isn't he's closely trailing behind, it's always too soon, too inevitable, his story is always a cliffhanger, not even being able to see who won since he died a session before

But also, he's determined and he runs from death or in other cases actively searches for it, he wants to kill people so bad just for the rush, his pride, to prove he is more than a death loop and has effects on others, so much so that he forgets about life, he doesn't know anything about what happens after he died, how people grieve him

He'll never understand true war and bloodshed like the slaughter, he just knows the stop of a heartbeat

Tango- the desolation

The desolation manifests in heat and burns, a flaming candle, it is pain and destruction

In 3rd life he makes one mistake and is forced to dance with fire, dodge flying arrows when backed against a wall, and wear the helmet that caused this. Cruelness for the sake of it. Last life he became the flame, angry and hot, he gave kindness and was faced with cruelty, so he gave it back. In double life he meets his soulmate because of loss, he dies a pointless death and his soulmate is lost because of a pointless loss too in the end… he has destruction thrown at him and so he throws it back full force, just like last life he's angry and destructive… all over again.

Secret life is full of flames, his home burning up, and he dies like that too, pointless cruelty

Cleo- the spiral

Deceit is what Cleo despises in the life series, throughout the seasons she has faced betrayal and patterns within people

In 3rd life Ren betrays her for someone that's not even loyal to his cause and has to figure out of impulse is really on their side, she doesn't let go of last life, double life she leaves their soulmate because he's an untrustworthy soulmate, in limited life she can't trust etho with their children and bdubs because he's too loyal to etho

She has the constant theme of being cautious with people because people are so deceitful to them which leads to spiraling

If you read all that let me know which one you agree with the most

Life series members as TMA fears:

Bdubs- the desolation

Bigb- the eye

Etho- the hunt

Gem- the slaughter

Scar- the lonely

Grian- the buried

Impulse- the web

Martyn- the dark

Lizzie- the vast

Mumbo- the stranger

Pearl- the lonely

Ren- the flesh

Skizz- the spiral

Scott- the corruption

Joel- the extinction

Jimmy- the end

Tango- the desolation

Cleo- the spiral

[lady-raziel]

hilarious that with each new day that passes a new bit of dirt from JD Vance's past gets discovered and plastered over the internet...it's almost as if this is why presidential campaigns have always announced their running mates well before the convention...so that if glaring issues with a candidate came to light quickly there would be time to replace them on the ticket before they were officially locked in...it's almost as if certain things in political campaigns were done for a reason, donald...because the very same critical failures had happened before...but no i'm sure you and your guys attempt to recreate a fantasy version of history while ignoring all the reasons that history was a disaster will work this time...because you are built different and the 10000th time trying fascism will work like a charm...