#it is my and anyone elses right to be disappointed by this

[itsnathateasy]

waking up with these aot characters

word count: 2,2k a/n 1: you won't believe how long i've been postponing this for! i'm mostly focusing my energy on at odds, at heart and some other writing projects and this type of fics (that i honeslty love sm!) have been neglected i do hope you enjoy this one, it was a promising idea! might update and add more characters too! a/n 2: SO yall just did the nasty and either you or them spend the night, but the morning after can be rather… awkward? funny? we’ll see! warnings: sfw buuut kinda suggestive! jean's from the pounding, not from an sti! taglist! @satorella @brave-and-gentle @eleuthreomaniaaa @flrn01

As soon as you woke up, you stretched your legs and arms, taking your time to slowly wake up. You had the leisure of sleeping in today, but also someone occupying the rest of your bed. You didn’t mean to, but you accidentally kicked Eren in your attempt to stretch. Good thing you didn’t do it too harshly, only enough to wake him up too. “Morning sleepy head”, you said as you now playfully kicked him again. He only mumbled at first, refraining from speaking properly. “I’ll go take a shower and order breakfast. Anything particular you’d like?” You questioned, not yet moving away from the position you’d both slept in, as if you were glued together. Eren lazily turned his head towards you and gave you a good hard look. “Who are you and why are you in my bed?” You almost froze, unsure whether you were angry or disappointed. Surely, Eren had the reputation of a player, but you’d been together for what? Almost three months now? Surely, he can’t have forgotten who you are! “Are you being serious?” You asked him, honestly in shock. “Yeah, who are you lady?” You immediately stood up, throwing the covers behind you and turning to face him, your blood boiling. “If anyone should forget who the other is, that’s you! That’s my bed and this is my house, you rude ass… Whatever!” You saw Eren’s green eyes flicker as he burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard, he’d sat up and was holding onto his belly. “What’s that for?” You asked, not knowing how else to proceed with this. “I’m just pulling your leg, y/n! How could I ever forget you? Especially after what you did last night, I could ne-” But you didn’t let him finish. You grabbed one of the pillows and smashed it on his face. “How dare you play tricks on me after our first night together, Eren? You’re evil!” His laughing never ceased, only became louder. “Know what’s evil? That thing you did with your tongue and-” "UGH, shut it, Eren! I’ll go take my shower now!” You said and walked out of the room to laugh in the privacy of the bathroom. You’d never give him any type of credit for such a prank. “Can I come see?” “Hm, I don’t know, Eren. Are you going to be a good boy or are you going to pretend you don’t know me?”

The sweet smell of coffee woke you up. You opened your eyes to a half naked Armin setting a tray on your bedside table as he tried to be as quiet as possible. “Oh, y/n! I’m sorry I woke you up! Coffee’s still hot and I’m making pancakes soon! Any requests?” You smiled to yourself as you stretched your arm to reach him, yet he fleeted. You couldn’t help but not notice how he was avoiding your gaze. It was probably not a big deal. If he didn’t enjoy himself last night, then he’d already be out of here, right? Would he be making you breakfast if he wanted nothing to do with you? Reluctantly, you rose from the bed, opening the windows to let some fresh air in, before heading to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. Once you were done, you walked into the kitchen, only to find Armin flipping a pancake, a perfect, almost golden one, and setting it on a plate to his left. You snaked your arms around his waist, resting your head between his shoulder blades. “They smell really good, Armin.” “Wait till you have one, y/n! What would you want for toppings?” You turned him around so you could face him, giving him a playful grin and a wink. “I liked this topping that I had last night!” You said, tapping on his torso with your finger. Armin turned red within seconds and promptly returned to his cooking. He only responded with a soft ‘yeah, yeah’ and spoke no further. Well. That’s a first. “Did I say something wrong, Armin? Didn’t you enjoy last night?” He pulled the pan from the heat, setting in a few inches away from the stove, an arm rubbing the nape of his neck. As he turned to face you, you noticed he was still red as poppy and a bit nervous. You put your hands on his chest, giving him a reassuring look. “No matter how bad it is, you can tell me, Armin.” He tsk’ed before speaking properly. “It’s just… Last night was seriously amazing, y/n, I’ve no words… But like… It was so nasty, I can’t look you in the eye right now...” As he said that, it was the first time since you woke up that he’d kinda looked at you, but his gaze turned to the floor quickly. “Would a blindfold make things easier for you? I’ve heard many people find it fun in the bedroom!” And now he was looking at you with the widest of eyes. He hesitated at first, but smoothly placed his arms around you. “That means no pancakes?” He gave you a small grin before gently pushing you backwards. “We can always have brunch instead of breakfast, right?”

You heard a soft groan as Jean turned over in bed, waking up slowly, only to find you staring at yourself in his bedroom mirror. You saw him peak his head from the covers, putting up his pillow and just looking at you for a while. “Hope I didn’t leave too many marks down there?” “Nope, that’s not it...”, you said, almost absent-mindedly. Your private parts kept itching all night and by the time you woke up, they were as red as strawberries. “What’s up then?”, he questioned. “My private parts are flushed.” He gave you a crooked smile, obviously proud of his accomplishment. “Are they now.” You glared back at him. “In a bad way, Jean.” You saw the smile disappear from his face as he threw away the blanket and walked over to where you stood in front of the mirror and kneeled to take a look at you. “Well… It didn’t really look like that last night, y/n...” You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh you don’t say!” You were so annoyed with him right now, you could punch him with no regrets whatsoever. “Hey, I know this is important, I just didn’t realise it was this bad. You’re upset, understandable. What can I do? Would some ice help until we can get a hold of a doctor?” He was right, you were upset, but mostly at the situation, not at him. You gave him a small smile and nodded. “I think the ice would help. Thanks, Jean!” He walked out of the bedroom and quickly returned with a clean towel made into ball. You could hear the ices cubes crackling on the inside of the towel. “Let me.” He lead you back to the bed and made you lay down, softly patting your area with the towel. “Do you have your doctor’s phone saved?”, he asked as he reached for your phone on the bedside table. “Of course I do!” You grabbed the phone from him, quickly realising you were still being mean, even though the situation wasn’t his fault. You sighed. “I’m sorry Jean, I don’t mean to lash out on you. But it’s really itchy and… Let’s just say I’m not having a good time...” You opened your contacts and scrolled to find your doctor’s number, calling her immediately to book an appointment. Jean massaged your thigh while you were on the phone, happy to hear you managed to get an appointment for a couple of hours later. As soon as you were done, he passed you the towel with the ice. “I’ll go run you a bath and when you’re ready, I’m driving you to the doctor’s, y/n.”, he said as he exited the room. “You really don’t have to, Jean, it’s fine.” He came back, a set of clean bathroom towels in his hands. “It’s my responsibility. Just let me know when you’re ready. Do you prefer a fruity or a more relaxed scent for your bubble bath, y/n?”

You were woken up by Connie’s hot breath fanning in front of your face. “You smell funny”, he said and laced his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what everyone smells after doing the shakalaka for I don’t even know how many hours, Connie. And don’t think you smell any better!” You pushed him away playfully, big smiles on both of your faces. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, y/n!” He said as he tried to drag you even closer than earlier. You physically didn’t have the energy to keep pushing him away, even as a game, so you let him hold you, even though you could already feel the sweat forming on your skin. “Are you really that fucked out?” You scoffed, but smiled. “Yes, Connie. You had no reason to wake me up!” He softly grabbed the skin on your thigh before moving his hand up and down, caressing it. “Sorry, I’m just bored. You’ve been out for quite a while.” “And I will be for a while longer, so you might as well do the same.” Hand still on your thigh, he gave you a small slap, earning a squeal from you. “No, you have to wake up so we can grab dinner and then continue where we left off!” He complained, a smug look on his face. You chuckled and turned away from him, proceeding to get out of bed. You wouldn’t be having any more sleep if Connie kept nagging you like that anyway, so you might as well order some food. “We’ve no pending tasks, Connie, there was literally nothing left uhm… Incomplete.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you left the covers fall behind you on the bed. “I know…”, he began and jumped out of bed, following you. “Still, some revising wouldn’t hurt, I believe...” He put his arms around your waist from the back, tracing a few kisses along your neck. You could only lean into his touch, one of your arms reaching to touch his neck, extending to his nape. “Thought you were hungry?” You asked, not receiving a response right away. “I am.” “For food, I mean.” You pulled yourself away. With the way it was between you two, you’d probably starve to death if you didn’t keep your hands off of each other. “Hey!”, he pouted again, trying to reach you. “First we order, and then we might continue. What say you?” He groaned, but nodded in agreement. “Hey, what do you mean by ‘might’, y/n?”.

A loud noise from the kitchen brutally woke you up. It was barely seven a.m., what could possibly be happening? You began to get yourself out of bed, when you noticed Erwin’s side was empty. Whoa, when did it become ‘Erwin's’ side? You took a mental note to think about this later. It was too early to start debating what exactly you and Erwin were. As you walked to the kitchen, though, he was nowhere to be found. Yet the noise persisted. You went for the sink for a glass of water, after being dehydrated from… Well, everything that went down last night. As you approached the kitchen, you saw two long legs stretched out on the floor, the upper part of the body disappeared into the cabinet under the sink. “What on earth are you doing, Erwin?” You questioned, not daring to pour yourself a glass of the much needed water. He emerged from the depths of the cabinet and looked at you sternly, as if he had every reason to be crouched down there. “The faucet was dripping. It drove me insane all night.” He got himself up, stretched and dusted his pants. The old man tank top he always wore underneath his shirts was still on, yet the shirt was neatly folded on the kitchen table. He reached for it, putting in on and quickly buttoning it up and pushing it into his trousers. He turned the faucet on with one swift movement as he pointed that you look into the cabinet. The water ran, unable to escape the pipe. “See? It’s not dripping anymore!” He pushed the handle down, stopping the flow of water and closing the cabinet shortly after. He gave you an almost shy smile and walked past you towards the exit. “Where are you going?” He immediately turned around to look at you, a surprised look on his face. “I never meant to wake you up, just… Couldn’t leave you with a leaking pipe.” You raised your eyebrow at him, leaning against the wall, hands folded on your chest. “You know that I owe you a treat now, right?” He began to speak but said nothing. Finally, he walked back towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, y/n. I’d fix the sink anyway.” You pushed his hand away and stuck your tongue out. “It’s not what I meant! But, I’d like to take you for breakfast, at least? On me, of course! Since you’ve spared me of hiring a professional.” His eyes softened. “I’ll wait till you’re ready.”

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[jacksonekennedy]

Jack laughed. Deep, from his belly, at Alice’s attempt at happy guinea pig noises. His face felt warm. He shook his head in slight disbelief. They were getting very comfortable with one another.

“I bet he sounded exactly like that.”

That had to be the cutest thing anyone had ever done, right?

Jack was happy to hear that Alice had family nearby. A sister to visit over a long weekend. But what really made Jack feel happy and warm was when Alice told him that she liked her family, and that she’d wanted to share them with Jack because she liked him. That’s what was implied, anyway, and it nearly made his heart burst out of his chest right then and there.

“Well, thanks. I like hearing about your family. They all seem pretty cool.”

Jack had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying something like: and it’s very kind of them to take in an alien girl and raise her alongside humans.

He didn’t want to risk losing any points. New Mexico was very important to him now.

When Alice asked about his family, Jack sighed, his expression remaining neutral. He loved his family. He really did. But when he thought back on his childhood, he felt sad sometimes. He didn’t dare speak those feelings out loud because any sane person would’ve looked at him like he was crazy.

Your parents are … millionaires? You’re a white guy who is set up for life and who got everything you asked for growing up, and thinking about your childhood makes you feel sad? 

It was still the way that he felt. His mother was overbearing and cared too much what people thought. She wanted to show off through Jack — the perfect son with perfect grades who could speak two languages at age ten. She always presented little Jackson as athletic and bold and polite and passionate and beautiful.

His father didn’t really acknowledge him at all when he was young, which made Jack feel totally disconnected from the man. Jack loved his father, and his father loved Jack deeply. They’d actually grown closer as Jack got older, but after this most recent scandal, something had shifted in their relationship. His father was disappointed in Jack, and it was difficult not to notice.

It hurt a lot.

Alice was asking about where his family stayed, not what he felt about his family growing up, so he smiled softly and answered her question.

“Yeah. Most of my family is here. I think the only people who have ever made it out of the east coast are like … some of my cousins who wanted to try traveling or living somewhere else, but I don’t know. Everyone always comes back. We have a lot of roots here.”

Jack shrugged. Jack wasn’t sure if he could ever leave the east coast. He really loved it there.

A lot of this was publicly known, but he decided to tell Alice anyway because — well, she’d asked, and it was presumptuous to think that she’d studied his entire family history before this interview.

“So, my grandpa used to tell me a lot of stories about our family history, which I really enjoyed. We made this really big family tree, but we got stuck somewhere in the 1700s. Anyway. My great-great-great whatevers got into the oil business, made a shit ton of money, then got into the car manufacturing businesses at the turn of the century, and a bunch of boring stuff that made a lot of money. My great grandfather used to go to New York a lot, and he apparently loved it. So he settled down there. Had a ton of kids. Four wives.”

She hadn’t asked for a history lesson. Jack knew that, and he felt a little embarrassed at having ranted for so long, but talking about this stuff felt very easy for Alice. It didn't sound as warm and special as the things she'd shared with him, but he still wanted her to know.

“He fell in love with New York so much that he just made his kids promise that they’d always stick around and not wander too far. He was a real hard ass, apparently. I only met him when I was like really little. He was really old, and I was sorta scared of him. He made this whole big thing about staying close together, and how he wanted his kids and grandkids and great grandkids to stay on the coast because the Kennedy family had made history, and we helped shape and build New York and the surrounding areas and whatever.”

Jack kicked his feet in the water.

“Sorry. You... didn’t ask any of that, did you?"

Jack scratched at the back of his head.

"Basically, my mom is from Connecticut. She and my dad met through their families. We're all diehard east coast people, unfortunately.”

'The carpentry thing is pretty fucking sick. I bet Gub Gub was very pleased with that.'

Alice chuckles. So sick, in fact, that Alice wished she had that gift— just so she had something to show Jack, something to win his admiration. Maybe a bookshelf. Or a dresser. Or a multi-tier guinea pig habitat that featured alcoves and tunnels.

"Gub Gub had a fucking blast. He was always making happy guinea pig sounds, you know—" Alice pauses, inhales, contemplates following through.

"Wheek wheek." Her hands curl up into little paws as if in emphasis.

God. That was embarrassing, but how many times had Jack already teased her on this trip? Surely squeaking out a few guinea pig sounds was nothing.

Besides— Alice didn't mind when Jack made a crack at her. She liked it, even. Liked how hot her face got. Liked firing back, or threatening a points demerit.

Especially when he's just so sweet. Proclaiming that Alice and her sisters were cute, and even asking all these follow up questions— if everyone lived in New Mexico.

His curiosity made Alice feel ... valued, in a way. That someone as important like him was curious.

"Everyone but me and Rebekkah," she says with a nod, kicking her feet once more.

"She's also in upstate New York. she's in publishing."

A beat.

"And, uh— I don't mind the questions, like, at all. I like my family, and I like sharing them with people who I like."

Alice's gaze flits down immediately, but there's a smile tugging at her lips.

Yeah— it felt good, sharing them with Jack. And in turn, it stokes her own curiosity.

"What about your family?"

The Kennedys. A name that carried weight here, and all over the eastern seaboard, and around the world, even. Yeah. Alice wondered what that must be like, having multiple members with their own wikipedia page. Maybe it wasn't surreal to him at all. After all— he was a fucking senator.

"Does all of your family stay here on the east coast?"

She thinks of Jack's mom returning to the coast, just to introduce her little newborn to the sea.

[s0fter-sin]

Thinking you shouldn't have to pay for Watcher content is you being entitled, actually.

did i ever say i shouldn’t have to pay for it? no, i said it’s disappointing that i would now have to after years of it being free. it would be easier to take if they were completely changing and upgrading their shows or established that the stream wouldn’t just have their current shows and maybe discontinued ones, that it would be different from their youtube channel and worth the sudden charge, but it’s hard not to feel like they’re throwing their audience under the bus

[heyclickadee]

So…here’s one reason why I’m continuing to be optimistic about the Tech situation. Yeah, there’s the fact that Tech coming back around eventually is what makes the most sense to me for a variety of reasons, but another reason alongside everything else? I refuse to be depressed about this.

The reality is that this isn’t a situation we can control. That leaves me with a choice about the current situation; I can decide the current situation is permanent (something which seems unreasonable to me given how easily recontextualized everything is) and spiral about it, drop it, or I can poke at the text and theorize about how the situation can get better. And since I don’t feel like spiraling and my brain won’t let me just drop it, option three is what I’m going with.

Tech means a lot to me, and, despite the fact that I remain highly critical of the finale in the context of there not being anything afterwards, The Bad Batch generally does as well. So let’s say I’m wrong, because I very well might be. Let’s say that there are not only no plans to follow up on any of this, but that no one ever picks up the threads left behind, and no one ever grabs the grade A catnip that bringing Tech back would be. At least I’ll have had fun theorizing in the meantime, and will come out the other side with a bunch of ideas on how to finish things off myself.

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

I hate every single one of these people ...

[abandonyourgawds]

.

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

i know n*gisagi has its fans and while for the longest time I've considered myself neutral towards it, I think I'm realizing that this is the only ship in bllk that truly gives me the ick

which is weird bc platonically, I actually fw it pretty hard. romantically though....

[somelazyassartist]

Hard to remember I exist sometimes and it feels like a lot of other people forget too and I don't really know how to feel about that right now

[rotationalsymmetry]

Life is like gardening. Sometimes there's something big going on, most of the time you just put in a little bit of effort at a time day after day, sometimes things grow and flourish beyond your wildest expectations, sometimes they shrivel and die, often it's a mix of both, who the fuck knows what's going on but you give it your best guess anyways. And if you're lucky, sometimes you learn something that lets you have a different outcome next time.

Or at least you learn to keep doing what's working.

[storm-of-feathers]

not super thrilled ab the fact that for the sake of my health i currently find it hard to talk about a very large part of myself and my identity.

[lctibule]

i'm still on this blog btw, it's just low activity by default and that activity only gets lower during those times when i'm getting even less than usual done on byan's blog

[psychoticwillgraham]

REALLY wanna go to commander night tonight bc I actually have a deck now (it’s a precon but it’s good enough) but my anxiety is currently eating me alive and I keep flip flopping on it and I’ve worked myself into two anxiety attacks already and it doesn’t even start till 7:30 (i’d go at 7 bc I like being at least half an hour early) and just. goddamnit man. why can’t I force myself to go :((((

[miraclemaya]

MADOKA - “I’m thinking I’ll order a beef udon bowl, since Sayaka-chan told me that they make those really good here. What about you, Homura-chan?”

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - Food needs can be met with an expenditure of 1.23% of total magic. Proceed?

GRIEF SYNDROME [Trivial: Success] - MAGICAL GIRLS THAT IGNORE FOOD ARE OFTEN MORE PRONE TO GRIEF ACCUMULATION. MY ARMS WILL ALWAYS BE WAITING FOR YOU, HOMURA, BUT IT’S IMPORTANT TO BE HAPPY UNTIL THAT DAY. BESIDES, MADOKA WANTS TO EAT WITH YOU. DISAPPOINTING HER WILL FILL YOUR SOUL GEM WITH A HALF A GRIEF SEED WORTH OF DESPAIR.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN [Legendary: Success] - Sayaka says the beef bowl is good? Maybe go for that. She knows Madoka’s tastes better than anyone — and if Madoka likes something, you will certainly like it too.

“I will have the same as you, Madoka.”

“I’m not feeling very hungry.”

[CALL AND RESPONSE - Medium 10] Come up with an order on your own

CALL AND RESPONSE - [Medium: Failure] - You’ve eaten here before, you’re pretty sure. Was it Loop 32… no, Loop 12..? No, wait, it was on the first Friday of Loop 68. No… that’s not right. You’ve never eaten here before. In a stunning display of incompetence, you have taken Madoka on a date to a restaurant that you have never experienced before.

THE ANGEL - It’s okay, Homura-chan! I don’t mind if you haven’t eaten here before. Remember what real me said, Sayaka thinks this place is good! And even if it’s not perfect, that’s okay, just spending time with you makes me happy.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Sayaka has raised her blade against Madoka 16 times before. You should leave this restaurant and kill her. It would only take-

FALLING SAND [Trivial: Success] - 1528 seconds on average.

CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - It can be cut down to 1243 seconds with an expenditure of 2.7% of total magic pool.

THE CRAVEN MASSES - Exactly. Do it in front of her family and make it bloody. Kyoko would likely try and stop you, but even she isn’t immune to bullets. And if Mami comes for revenge, well, you know the exact words you could say that would destroy her, don’t you?

THE ANGEL - A-Ah, I think that’s a bit of an extreme reaction, Homura-chan!

HUMAN SHELL - Your heart rate is increasing. Stop that. You have absolute control over your flesh. Act like it.

MOE INSTINCT - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ARE WE GOING TO ORDER MADOKA IS GOING TO LAUGH AT US

WITCH’S NIGHT - Is… is this a trap? Walpurgis may be defeated, but you know that the stage witch never truly ceases its show. Perhaps this restaurant is a part of the stage?

MADOKA - “Um, are you okay, Homura-chan?”

MOE INSTINCT - OH GOD SHE HATES US

“I’m going to kill myself.”

“I’m so sorry. Would killing myself make you feel more comfortable?”

Isn’t there anything else you can say?

YOU - Isn’t there anything else you can say?

THE DEVIL - Come on, Homura. It’s high time you do it. Really, this is just another in the long, long chain of failures that make up your life. The only way to fix it is to kill yourself.

CLOCKWORK PRECISION - Target: Located on right ring finger. Target is not moving. Chance to hit: High. Plan: Retrieve pistol. Aim pistol at ring. Pull trigger.

THE ANGEL - Oh my god, please do not do that!

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

There. There has to be better options than this.

YOU - There. There has to be better options than this.

MOE INSTINCT - I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE. THE ONLY RECOURSE IS IMMEDIATE SUICIDE. THAT’S THE ONLY WAY MADOKA WILL LOVE YOU AGAIN.

"I am going to kill myself."

"I'm so sorry, I'll kill myself if it makes you feel better."

"I'm so sorry. Should I kill myself?"

YOU - “I’m going to kill myself.”

MADOKA - Madoka’s face twists, her eyebrows raising slightly in shock. Whatever response she was expecting, it was clearly not this.

GRIEF SYNDROME [Challenging: Success] - IF MADOKA WAS A MAGICAL GIRL, HER SOUL GEM WOULD FILL BY A QUARTER HEARING YOU SPEAK THOSE WORDS. THAT WAS CRUEL, HOMURA.

MOE INSTINCT - WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?

MADOKA - “I’m so sorry, Homura-chan. Please don’t do that. I… I really care about you and so does everyone else.” Madoka’s eyes fill with tears as she speaks. She hugs you.

DAMAGED MORALE -4

CALL AND RESPONSE [Trivial: Success] - Quick, tell her you were making an edgy joke that didn’t land. You’ve gotten away with that before, you’re pretty sure.

SPACE-TIME MASSACRE - Twelve quarter shifts left and two up from your current space-time position, and there’s a Japan that it’s actually illegal to not commit suicide in.

FALLING SAND - You’ve been seated for 5 minutes and 32.5 seconds already and still have not ordered. Mami has requested your presence at her apartment in 3.4 hours from now.

TEA WITH MAMI-SAN - She wants to help you find a hobby. She’s really worried about you, you know.

STRINGS OF FATE - You can feel Madoka’s heart beat in sync with yours as she holds you. Everything will be alright, as long as you follow the beat.

THE ANGEL - Yeah! It’s okay Homura-chan. Just explain what’s been going on and Madoka will understand. And then order something, it’s important to eat a full meal!

YOU - “Ah, sorry Madoka. I was… overwhelmed with choice, and my… brain spit out the first thing it thought. I am not planning on killing myself.”

MADOKA - “Um, I think we should probably talk about this more, Homura-chan….”

CALL AND RESPONSE - Ask her a question to change the topic. It’s worked in three different loops, it should work here.

RATIONALITY COMPLEX [Trival: Success] - Ask her if she wants to try anything else and then order that for yourself. This will accomplish your goal of deciding on what to order, as well as showing Madoka that her desires are important to you.

YOU - “Is there anything else you’d like to try, Madoka? We can share our dishes.”

MADOKA - “Uh, okay Homura-chan. Maybe get some tempura?”

Order 10000 yen worth of tempura

Order 1000 yen worth of tempura

Order 100 yen worth of tempura

YOU - “Excuse me waiter, give me 10000 yen worth of tempura.”

HUMAN SHELL - Calories and magic are just two different types of fuel. Feed me and control me.

THE ANGEL - T-that’s probably too much, Homura-chan. Maybe you can sneak some into your cool shield, though!

MADOKA - Madoka doesn’t say anything, but her eyes do bulge out slightly. She gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder and smiles at you.

HEALED MORALE +1

RATIONALITY COMPLEX - Displays of wealth like this can broadcast value to potential mates. This will increase your value in Madoka’s eyes, furthering along one of your goals.

THE ANGEL - I think you should just focus on enjoying the food, Homura-chan. Take a break, everything is okay.

Thank you.

Why don’t you hate me?

YOU - Why don’t you hate me?

THE ANGEL - Because I care about you, Homura-chan! And besides, you hate yourself far too much already.

Thank you.

THE ANGEL - You’re welcome! Now, please, enjoy your meal with real Madoka. She loves you a lot too, you know.

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ how to fake date with fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna .ᐣ very much limited experience.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who agreed with his teammates – get a girlfriend before the season’s over. he just didn’t expect to want more than just the win.

he just needs to dodge some girl who’s been aggressively flirting with him, and you need an excuse to avoid a creepy dude who won’t stop texting you.

“we’ll fake date," sukuna proposes with that cocky smirk. “it’s not like we’ll catch feelings or anything.”

“are you sure? i don’t want that creep to bother me for the 56th time this week.”

“trust me, sunshine.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would take the acting slow but convincingly. he would start with holding your hands publicly while telling his dry jokes to you so all the people would believe him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would brushing his thumb over your hand. he’d play it cool — but the way his hand tightened in yours would give him away.

“it’s all for the show,” he would say.

but the way your fingers intertwine with his says otherwise.

“does it really have to be like this?”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would would wrap one of your hair ties or bracelets around his wrist during every game, claiming it’s his ‘lucky charm.’ if you ever ask about it, he’ll say, “worked last time, didn’t it?”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who constantly reminds himself that you’re just friends — even when his heart races every time you smile at him.

err . . . you’re just a good friend to him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would slowly realize how pretty and captivating you are. from the way your eyes stare at his when you ramble about your day to him to the way your lips seem to soft while you speak, he just wants to feel how soft it is.

when you mentioned liking someone else, he would sit beside you, fists curling at his sides. his face would stay blank, but his voice would darken. “he better not disappoint you.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna who think you deserve better than that trashy guy you mentioned. and he’s the best.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would sneak you into his team’s closed practice.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who always reserves the spot next to him — bus rides, team meals, wherever. if anyone tries to sit down, they’ll be greeted with a warning glare and clipped, “taken.”

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would raise an eyebrow when you suggest to have a matching phone charms with him – just for fun. but he’II just shrug it off and let you pick which one you like.

when you actually really get him a matching phone charm, and even though it’s small and kind of cutesy, he’d attach it to his phone without hesitation.

front and center in the team’s photo, fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna’s fake girlfriend’s bracelet is right there on his wrist, and his matching phone charm would peeks out of his pocket proudly. if you say anything, he’ll just chuckle.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would take you out on a date to keep up on the act. but the way his thumb brushes your knuckles? that doesn’t feel fake. the way he’II hold your hand with him and place it in his pocket? doesn’t sound too fake either.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would using you as an excuse.

“can’t go out tonight — my girlfriend doesn’t allow me.”

oh, you both know that’s a massive lie.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would carry your bag since it seems to heavy for you. (even when it’s not, for certain times.)

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would feel if he will loses a game or feels like he underperformed, he’ll drag you to the gym late at evening or night, you call it.

sweat drips down his forehead as he sinks another shot. “49,” you call out. sukuna’s breathing is ragged, but he looks at you sitting there, waiting — and that’s all he needs to finish strong.

after the 50th shot, sukuna collapses on the floor, chest heaving. you walk over and drop down next to him, brushing damp hair from his forehead. he doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours.

gasps and shouts would fill the gym when the members saw you wearing sukuna’s jersey. “since when?” someone demands. fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna kisses your temple. “since they’re mine.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who never shows it, but he does get nervous before big games.

he won’t say it outright, but you’ll catch him squeezing your hand a little tighter or resting his forehead against yours.

you later then would give your hair tie to him, telling that it’II be a silly “good luck” charm for him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna who would open his wallet before his game begin, revealing a polaroid of you wearing his jersey number under the sunlight. he suddenly needs to be remember who he’s playing for.

he would spot you the second he steps onto the court. his eyes would narrow slightly, that nervous, yet cocky smirk tugging at his lips when you catch his gaze.

if he makes a shot, he’d turn toward you, wiping sweat from his brow and flashing you a knowing grin — like you’re the only one he’s playing for.

when his team scores, he would glance at you in the stands, lifting his chin as if to say, did you see that, sunshine?

if you cheer for him, his smirk would deepen, and you’d catch the subtle way he straightens up — fueled by the fact that you’re watching. if you smile or wave at him, he’d bite back a grin before turning back toward the game.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would exclaimed energizedly as his team scores.

sukuna would walk straight toward you, ignoring his teammates’ cheers, would grab your wrist and pull you close, sweat-slick and breathless. “i told you, you’re my good luck charm," he’d murmur before brushing his thumb across your jaw.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who doesn’t care how sweaty he is — he will hug you immediately after his games.

“miss me?” he’ll question, pressing a kiss to your temple while you complain about how gross he is. “you’re smelling like rotten eggs with outdated pickles.”

you give him a playful judgemental look.

he just laughs warming-ly – except his teammates eyeing him up and down for noticing how soft he has been with you.

[beloveds-embrace]

(a very low-effort post abt 141 x their new hacker- you. For better immersion, click on the song link during Soap’s workout! <3)

The first time you make contact, it’s through their personal phones.

Not the official military-issued devices- no, those would be too easy. You wanted to make an impression.

So when Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap each glance at their personal screens, expecting the usual notifications from Laswell, they’re instead greeted by:

(¬‿¬) Hello, boys.

Price sighs like a disappointed father, having been forwarned of your antics, and still immediately calls Laswell.

“Care to explain why my phone just got hijacked?”

Laswell doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, she sounds like she’s been expecting and waiting for this- for his phone call specifically about getting hacked. “That’s your new hacker.”

Price pinches the bridge of his nose, while the others exchange Looks of Consideration™️. “That’s how she introduces herself?”

“She’s efficient.”

“She’s cheeky.”

“She’s listening,” you interject, making them all jolt as your voice plays from the phone speakers, honey-sweet and undeniably smug.

There’s a long silence. Then Gaz whispers: “What the fuck?”

You giggle. (≧◡≦) flashes onto all their screens right after that, just as cheeky as your tone.

“So she’s just gonna creep around in our phones now?” Gaz asks after that, wary, an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

In response, just his screen flickers, and a new message appears.

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ Rude.

Laswell sighs again, much like an exasperated mother, and gestures at their phones. “Give her a chance. She is, despite everything, good at what she does.”

And so from that that moment on, you’re everywhere; they don’t see you, but they feel your presence. You’re in their systems, their devices, and their comms.

Ghost boots up his laptop one day, only to find that his standard background has been replaced with a pixelated skull and crossbones- like those they did on pirate ships in movies. Below it, in small text:

For the spookiest boy.

He says nothing, just tilts his head slightly before closing the laptop.

And when Price logs into the briefing room terminal, instead of the standard military insignia, the screen briefly flashes with the words:

WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN DILF.

Soap loses it. Price glares at him, then at the screen, then sighs, muttering, “Christ.”

Soap isn’t free from your shenanigans, though.

One day, while doing his usual workout, he pulls up his playlist. The moment he presses play, his music app forcefully closes and reopens with “The Drunk Scotsman” blasting at full volume.

“NO, NO, NO-“ Soap scrambles to shut it off as the entire base turns to look at him.

On his screen, once the app is blessedly closed, a message pops up:

(ʘ‿ʘ) Dance, pretty boy.

And then Gaz’s torture is quieter, but no less effective.

Every so often, while he’s texting, his camera light flickers on. Not long enough to take a photo- just a brief, eerie blink before an emoji appears on his screen:

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He groans. “She’s messing with me.”

“You mean flirting?” Soap smirks, leaning closer to the phone and chuckling as the camera light flickers back on for just another few seconds.

Gaz scowls. “…I hope so.”

Still, despite all your antics, you’re brilliant at what you do. And they learn this firsthand during their first mission with you.

“All teams, check-in.” Price orders as they move through a darkened compound.

Instead of Laswell’s voice responding, it’s yours. Soft, smooth, and playful.

“Five by five, Captain.”

There’s a pause- brief but notable. Then, Price exhales. “You hacking my comms now, too?”

“Wouldn’t be a very good hacker if I couldn’t, would I?”

Soap snorts, snickering with Gaz. “She’s got a point.”

Ghost, listening quietly, murmurs: “Thought you didn’t speak.”

“Only when necessary. Or when I feel like annoying you.”

Your voice is warm, teasing. If Ghost were anyone else, he might have smiled. And then, just like that, you’re all business.

“Sniper on the rooftop, two o’clock.”

Ghost adjusts, and then fires. A body drops.

“Price, your six.”

The captain pivots, taking down the enemy creeping behind him.

“Soap, slow down.”

“I got this,” Soap insists- only for a grenade to go off near him. “…I don’t got this.”

“Clearly.”

“…Shut up.”

With you in their ears, everything runs smoother. Their feeds don’t lag. Their encryptions are tighter. They feel- secure. With you and Laswell? Almost untouchable, but they don’t let it get to their heads.

When they return to base, exhausted but alive, their phones light up with a single message:

(￣︶￣) Good job, boys.

They stare at their screens, and then Price huffs a laugh. Soap grins. Gaz shakes his head. Ghost, unseen beneath his mask, smirks.

They don’t know your face. Haven’t met you in person.

But they decide you’re theirs, and they are yours. Even if you’re just unknown- for now, anyways.

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.