#so i guess it's more work done than just that

[raleighrador]

Thanks for the thoughtful reply!

You obviously (and everyone) is free to make whatever choices around what and how they consume etc so I am not trying to persuade you of anything but I am interested in pursuing this thinking.

Please correct me if I misrepresent anything you said or are trying to articulate.

My basic issue is that in order to accept all of the above we need to rely on what seems to be a false premise: that AI created writing [art in general?] lacks perspective because perspective is a function of choice, and choice is something only humans can do, therefore AI writing cannot have perspective.

First, it isn't clear to me that perspective is a function of choice (certainly not only or even primarily). At the most macro level, if perspective is foundational informed by the lives we've lived, we didn't choose those lives nor do we consciously translate those experiences into a defined perspective. Our perspective is an emergent phenomenon. Translating that into writing - absolutely a human writer makes choices (some conscious some unconscious) about what to put on the page and what to leave off. My claim here is that far more of it is conscious than not. The majority of grammar, diction, arrangement etc is defined for us by custom that we operate within. Faulkner and Joyce are famous examples of not that but are a) exceptions and b) largely incomprehensible (one lit major's gripe). The vast majority of the vast majority of written work is - at best - more like your example of a collage than not. We all have the same lego pieces and the same rules and we're just moving them about.

What informs that arrangement is some choices and a lot of just baked in preferences and habits and patterns.

Second, even if we accept that perspective is a function of (conscious) choice this then needs to be integrated into our characterisation of what "AI writing" is. So far as I am aware there is very little "purely" AI writing i.e. an AI spontaneously picked a topic and generated something. These tools - certainly in the context of e.g. fanfic writing - are all human driven i.e. a human booted up chatgpt and at minimum wrote a prompt and hit "generate".

I guess it is possible that these people are then copy pasting and publishing these outputs without even reading them but that seems unlikely. I think the minimum interaction is they read them and decide if they like them or not - and then publish.

Why are they not making a choice about what to include or not? How is the process so fundamentally different to a more typical writing process? This becomes more evidently (to me) similar when you imagine that this "AI author" likely gets the AI to draft and redraft the output multiple times. They're engaging with what the AI produces and then directing it to make changes - choosing what to tell it to emphasise or remove etc.

If it is human choice that creates perspective, that seems to exist in writing even where the bulk of the "writing" was done by AI.

2 other thought experiments that spring to mind: 1) if the act of consuming output created by others and then saying "more X less Y" is NOT sufficient to create perspective, would you say that the director of a movie is not creating a perspective? They didn't write the script, they didn't say the lines, they didn't sew the costumes. They watched other people read other peoples' dialogue and then they say "make it more/less". 2) Do Jackson Pollock painting's have perspective? He made choices about colour and the force with which he threw or dribbled paint but he didn't control where the paint landed. How much choice, how much control, is required for perspective? And if they don't have a perspective does that mean they aren't worth engaging with?

I think both of the above imply that even absent the majority of the labour you can make choices and those create a perspective AND that conscious choice derived perspective is not a prerequisite for something to be worth engaging with.

I think this land son my third point which - regardless of any of the above the majority of the perceived perspective of a given piece of material is in fact RECEIVED perspective i.e. it is what the VIEWER brings that creates that perspective as much if not more than what the author intends. This is a pretty standard post modern position but even if you think Barthes is a hack the fact that so many people in academia or elsewhere fill so much time arguing over what was meant by any given piece of media is evidence of the fact that a significant portion of the perceived "meaning" of art is created by the viewer and not the artist.

What that implies is even if you accept that AI created/supported writing has none of the human choices that create an identifiable artist's perspective, that doesn't mean the work upon being read wont have a perspective projected onto it.

I think this paragraph of yours is interesting: "Could there be a person-made work that's just as bland and vapid as a ChatGPT work? Sure. A thousand monkeys and a thousand typewriters, etc. Even as I'm sure the person-made work would have a perspective ChatGPT lacks, I'm sure there's a work (or likely several) where I, as a reader, couldn't distinguish whether it's human-written or ChatGPT-generated. But humans also use heuristics to make choices; I've never read a ChatGPT-generated work that I remember a few days later, and I've read hundreds of human-written works that I do remember. It's just a better bet for my time to not bother with a ChatGPT-generated work and read a human-written work instead, even if I might hit a dull work every once in a while."

I basically look at this the other way round - the question is not "Can humans make art as bad as ChatGPT?" the question is "can ChatGPT create art as interesting and engaging as human created art". To me the answer is yes.

I get your point about heuristics but it seems to me that "was this written by/with extensive help from chatGPT" is not a good heuristic, in the exact same way that "was this written by the author in a single draft with no edits and no input from anyone else ever" or "was this written by a committee of authors who all mutually edited each other's drafts" are helpful heuristics.

Again, I am not seeking to convince you of anything and if this heuristic is helpful for you that is great, but I don't understand how.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[edwinspaynes]

Do you think there is a way to ethically watch Sandman and Good Omens? What about Dead Boy Detectives?

Andddd this was why I originally turned off anons. I knew this was coming eventually, but I guess I'll respond just this once so everyone knows where I stand.

I don't love that I feel the need to disclose this, but I have personally experienced grooming and sexual assault in the past. So this post is coming from someone who has Been There and understands the importance of supporting victims. I also love all of the efforts NG-related fandoms have been putting into raising money for sexual assault charities. It's wonderful to see people rallying behind the survivors and supporting them so vocally.

- DEAD BOY DETECTIVES: NOT A GAIMAN WORK

I do not think that there is a world where Dead Boy Detectives would be unethical to stream. It has virtually nothing to do with Neil Gaiman, by his own admission, and is the brain-child of Steve Yockey.

Besides the first chapter where Charles and Edwin were introduced (with no development), he didn't even write the comics! Several artists did, including Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham - whose run the show is based on and who the sprites are named after.

Yockey was the sole person to pitch DBDA to Warner Brothers. Gaiman did not do that.

Streaming Dead Boy Detectives primarily supports its writers, cast, and crew - Gaiman, who only wrote 2 scenes, is getting essentially nothing in terms of royalties.

Someone on Twitter did a really good job of unpacking why Dead Boy Detectives shouldn't be lumped in with Gaiman stuff - I'll link it here.

But this leads me to the next section.

- HANDLING GOOD OMENS AND SANDMAN

I think that there are a lot of valid reactions to the way people handle the consumption of Gaiman's shows after what he has done.

Some people are going to be unable to stomach anything he has written, and that is okay. Others whose lives have been massively impacted by his work aren't going to be able to let go since - and I know people like to deny this, but it's true - the art you love more than love itself is going to have a serious material impact on your personality.

Both of these approaches are alright! The only incorrect approach is to harass those who disagree with your personal choices.

It also is, in my opinion, Bad to give Gaiman money. Purchasing his books and buying Good Omens official merch puts cash in his pocket.

Streaming the shows, though, is a little more nuanced to me.

I'm going to use Good Omens as an example here. I personally will not be continuing with Good Omens. It gives me a Yucky Feeling. I may one day change my mind and stream a pirated version, but I don't think so.

However, I don't think Sheen and Tenant's fans are wrong to stream it in support of the actors who have brought their favourite characters to life.

But this leads me into my next point, and the point that will probably get me Canceled.

- THE IMPACT OF SHOWS ON PEOPLE

The way that people handle their favourite shows post-allegations is going to depend on the impact that the show had on their life.

I like Good Omens. It's a fun show. I enjoyed it while watching it, and think (see: thought) positively of it. But it had no real deep impact on my life - it's not part of me. When I look at Good Omens now, I see Gaiman's work above the finished product. It puts a sour taste in my mouth.

But in a hypothetical world, if Dead Boy Detectives were a Gaiman production? I have the self-awareness to know that I probably would still stream it to support the cast and crew. I am attached enough to it that I think I would divorce it entirely from Gaiman (if he were the creator, which he is not.) My point is that other people who are still streaming Sandman and GO probably don't look at it and see Gaiman. They see something that they have absorbed into themselves.

The part that's going to get me canceled is that if George cameos in Sandman, I will stream that one (1) episode to support George Rexstrew (Edwin Payne's actor). This is because Edwin has had a material impact on my life (hilariously, because I am a sexual violence survivor who did not get justice, and Edwin did not get justice for his murder and fights for that.) I feel that Edwin is part of me and my life, because Edwin (and George's work as Edwin) has made me feel less alone.

A lot of people feel that way about Crowley and Aziraphale.

I think that asking people to ditch a show, characters, and performers that have had a deep impact on their lives is unfair to them. Like, yes, Neil Gaiman is a bag of shit! Anyone who defends him is also a bag of shit! But I don't think that it's fair to stop people from supporting works that have had big material impacts on their own lives.

- HOW TO PROCEED

TL;DR

My personal ideal outcome here would be:

Wrap up Good Omens with the 90-minute movie and nothing else.

Wrap up Sandman with season 2, and do not renew.

Revive Dead Boy Detectives WITH THE CAVEAT that Gaiman gets his name removed from it, even if he currently isn't making much money off it. Take the Sandman characters and references from DBDA and let it become its own standalone thing.

Cancel all future Gaiman productions and never hire him to work on television or anything else again.

Let Gaiman's career die entirely and let him fade into obscurity.

Arrest Gaiman, which will never happen but it should.

I think people should:

Stop giving Neil Gaiman money through books or merch.

Make their own decisions about whether or not to officially stream the shows in support of the actors and crew members who have worked hard on it.

Not harass anyone for either their decision to stream the show, not stream the show, or stream a pirated version of the show.

Engage as much as they want with fandom and fanworks, as they are divorced from the source material's creator.

Vocally speak up against Neil Gaiman. Amplify the voices of the survivors, and don't let fear for the future of your show get in the way of that. At the end of the day, real women were put through the most traumatic and horrifying experience of their lives, and that's what matters most.

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Channeled Messages From The Person On Your Mind *Singles Edition*

Let's feed our delusions. (jk)

Pile 1: "You make me feel so good, like I'm on cloud nine. You make everything so, sooo worth it. I feel like a winner with you around... and the thing is.. you have no clue lol. I wanna win you over and show you off. You've no idea how you make me feel... you being your hot-ass self sitting there, looking so cute. I keep so much of my feelings to myself, but all I wanna do is overcome this impossible (and seemingly invisible) barrier between us! Ahhhhhh, it drives me nuts on some days, ugh!

You feel like a blessing to me. I didn't know somebody like you could exist?! Ahhhhh. I've been alone all my life, but you make me wanna not be alone anymore... it's not something I expected to feel, I have to be honest lol.

I'm not ready to come toward you right now, though. Trust me, I KNOW I must do something, but my anxiety holds me back... my limiting beliefs hold me, and I have no clue how to overcome them. I wish I could figure it out so I could BE WITH YOU ALREADY!

I'm being patient, though... with myself and with the situation between us. I keep my cards close, so you probably wouldn't even know any of this... sheesh, I don't wanna look like a fool in front of you. I'm scared you'd think less of me—it would KILL me if you did—so I keep you at arm's length.

Your presence TRIGGERS some very intense feelings inside me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable with you around, so overwhelmed, and it's not easy, you know? My heart's been broken before, and I'm afraid of getting it broken again. That's definitely a part of the fear you make me feel. I've had to be on the defense with people, especially from my past... relationships have not been easy, and so I guess I gotta work on that.

Go listen to Taylor Swift's 'Lover' anytime you miss me... that's a song I dedicate to you, sweetie, until I see you next time."

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 2: "GIRL, I have been going THROUGH IT, sheesh... I've been holding on for dear life 'cause lately, it feels like everything is out to get me, uk? One thing goes straight to hell after another, and I've just been so caught up with everything. You know what's been keeping me going, though? You. I've been dreaming about you most nights... I think about you when I can, to help me get through what I need to get through. The thought of you gives me strength, girlie. Every time you cross my mind, I get so weak in the knees! I look forward to every time I get to see you... (even if we live in the same house lmao!)

I feel you all around me all the time—it's lovely. I love how you make me feel... you take away my troubles, even if just for a sec. For that, I am immensely grateful!

You're not in my life right now, though... but I'm PRAYING and WISHING and HOPING that I might have a shot with you. The hope of a possibility of being with you is what makes the hard days sooo much easier. I seriously want a solid relationship with you more than anything else! (If we aren't in one already 👀)

Right now, I'm getting my shit together, and I hope you'll be waiting for me on the other side, just like in my dreams. You give me hope in a hopeless world again. You're such a light to me... you don't even know it.

I'm always watching you, though... even when you don't know—ESPECIALLY when you don't notice! Haha, it's my favorite thing in the world. I think you've got the prettiest voice in the world. Gosh, I just wanna be with you, but BOY, I've got my hands tied up right now. I'm letting go and letting God decide when it's time for us to come together. You make me wanna have faith in something greater than us.

But I assure you, I'm coming for ya once I'm done figuring everything in my life. Oh, and I love you. ✨"

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 3: "You make me so horny. I can't even sit right when I'm around you. WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS EFFECT ON ME?! (Not that I'm complaining tbh, I love it haha). But seriously, how can someone be so goddamn hot?! How?! Jeez, I LOVE your body! I get so many 18+ thoughts—it's insane. I apologize for being so direct, but it's just what you do to me, sorry not sorry :p

You make me wanna run toward you EVERY TIME I see you! All I wanna do is be all up on you, loving you, kissing you, and hugging you. Man, it's hard to be around you and not be close to you, especially when there's other people around. I LOVE TALKING TO YOU, and I don't ever wanna stop talking to you, ugh.

You make my heart explode! I've never had feelings this deep for anybody in my life (I WISH I was kidding, jeez). You make me wanna act mature and romantic n stuff... �� (Usually, I'm not like this, btw).

I wanna be where you're at, vibrationally speaking, but I've got some things I gotta take care of. I've got some old cycles I've been on—my old bs. I'm working hard on it and releasing it as we speak, and this is helping me come toward you. Might take me a while, though, ngl 👀🙄. But I'll be there before you know it, princess!

I WANT our relationship to begin between the two of us SO BAD, but I can't see how that's gonna happen yet. It feels like it's not the right time yet? Idk... it's really frustrating, though. I'm trying not to do anything stupid to sabotage our new beginning, though. I'm just going with the flow of things and listening to my intuition about our situation. Don't worry!

I see you as my forever, my one and only. I can't explain it, but I just know. You're the one for me, and honestly, it's breaking my heart that I can't actively pursue you right now since it's supposed to be 'divinely guided' 🙄 Like, Universe, could you please hurry up and get me to MY baby, ugh.

You're so beautiful, you're my goddess, my other half. I can't wait to get to you and spoil you and have a PROPER relationship with you. I hate that we can't come together and confess to each other yet... it's maddening. I know we're destined to be, but the way things are going on the surface right now, it might seem as if we're not meant to be... hell, we might not even be talking to each other or you may not even know I exist right now! But as soon as the divine gives me the green light, I'll be coming running toward you to claim you all for myself." ✨

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

[fear-is-truth]

dare i say ur the best squid game writer?? the namgyu hcs was def the most accurate depiction of his character ive seen ! showed his insecurities so well. chefs kiss. speakinggg of if ur taking requests from him. what abt reader finally breaking up w him? like tired of all the toxicity. how would he react?

BREAKING UP WITH NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

a/n. omg tysm for the kind words !! i loved the idea for your request, and i hope i did it justice ! thank you again for trusting me with it ♡

at first, nam-gyu’s reaction would be pure deflection. he’d scoff, roll his eyes, and act like he doesn’t care. “fine, go,” he’d say, his tone dripping with venom. “you think i can’t live without you? watch me.” his pride wouldn’t let him admit how much it hurts, so he’d lash out, throwing barbed words your way in an attempt to make you second-guess yourself. it’s a classic manipulation tactic—turning the blame onto you, acting like you’re the one overreacting or being unreasonable.

but as soon as you walk away, he’d start spiralling—anger would segue into panic. he’d start analysing on all the moments he pushed you too far. there would be some level of guilt, but instead of owning up to it, he’d try to convince himself it wasn’t his fault—or worse, blame you for “giving up on him.”

when hours or days pass without a word from you, he’d start calling or texting, alternating between anger (“don’t you dare ignore me”) and desperation (“just tell me what you want me to do”)

when he realises you’re serious and not coming back, he’d oscillate between two extremes. on one hand, he’d try to manipulate you into staying by pulling every card he can think of: guilt-tripping, love-bombing, even reminding you of the good times to make you question your decision. he’d say something like, “you’re just gonna throw all of this away? after everything i’ve done for you?” or, “no one else will care about you the way i do.” not because he doesn’t care (he does care. a lot) it’s because he doesn’t know how else to express his desperation.

on the other hand, he’d also act like he doesn’t give a fuck to protect his ego. he’d put on a front, telling you to go and that he’s fine without you. he’d go to work, or use loads of drugs, just to prove (to himself more than anyone else) that he doesn’t need you. but deep down, he’d feel hollow. every time he numbs himself, it’d just make him think of you more.

if he’s really desperate, and you’ve been ignoring his attempts to get your attention, this might be the moment where he shows an almost childlike side of himself. he’d show up at your door, completely disheveled, and beg you to stay. he’d get on his knees if he thought it’d work, his pride be damned.

after the breakup, if you don’t take him back, he’d probably spiral even worse. he’d rely heavily on unhealthy coping mechanisms—drugs, drinking, or surrounding himself with people who don’t actually care about him. but no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, his mind would always drift back to you. he’d fixate on what he did wrong, though he wouldn’t know how to fix it.

if you did give him a second chance after all this, he’d try to be better, but it’d be a slow, messy process. nam-gyu doesn’t know how to handle his emotions or build a healthy relationship, so even his attempts at improving would be kinda flawed. but the fear of losing you again would drive him to at least try—though whether or not he can actually change is another story.

[coqhee]

HATE NISHIMURA !

IN WHICH ✷ prepping for the school's annual charity event, but with your #1 public enemy ∘ ∘ ∘ more

enemy riki x f!r ― one-sided e2l comedy angst(if you squint) fluff comedy cursing kissing menace!riki ⨯ 6334

em's note ★ this was supposed to be for riki's bday back in dec but I just never got around to proof reading, so theres' a lot of christmasy related themes,, hope its still fun n readable lawl. no joke it took so long to write cause when I was editing I kept adding scene after scene with more detail

it was hard being the class president, filing papers, being every single teacher’s errand runner, and always taking the beating when your class was just being so dumb. though, it wasn’t all bad. you enjoyed planning the school events, and having this sort of responsibility.

this winter, you were planning your school’s annual winter charity drive, your goal was to surpass any other year. 

every single school year, your school has fallen way behind their set goal, it was like people had no christmas spirit of giving. you had your mind set to change that. 

and what was better than having a little bit of help. when the school admins had notified you saying that you’d have a student ambassador voted by the student body to help you out and co-lead, you were elated.

until you found out, it was none other than nishimura riki.

you hated the way nishimura riki smirked whenever you scolded him for skipping class.

you hated the way he’d talk back to teachers.

you hated the way he laughed during truth or dare in 7th grade when someone else revealed your crush on him and he laughed. 

you hated nishimura riki. 

─── ♡

you were filing papers in the copy room when a tall figure loomed behind you.

“hey pres, when do we get started,” riki’s voice rang through your ears, startling you. you turned around, glaring at the boy, then went back to filing and stapling.

“you sure you’re not here to be a pain in my ass?” you questioned back with venom in your tone. some part of you wishes you were a little more shameful talking back to another student in front of the other teachers in the room, but you couldn’t find it in you to hold back.

the other teachers in the room exchanged amused glances but stayed quiet, clearly entertained by the exchange. riki had that effect on people—effortlessly charming, even when he was being an absolute menace.

“who says i can’t do both?” he grins back 

you sighed, setting the papers down with a little more force than necessary. “look, nishimura, if you’re here to joke around, the door’s that way.” you nodded toward the exit. “i have actual work to do.”

“oh, come on, y/n,” he said, leaning casually against the filing cabinet, his grin unwavering. “you act like you don’t secretly love having me around.”

“yeah and i’d love if you could’ve read the email i sent a week ago with what i need to have done before today,” you rolled your eyes, giving a mock smile to the boy. 

riki feigned a look of guilt, his hand flying to his chest. “ah, so that’s why you’re mad. you’re holding a grudge because I didn’t read your essay-length email?”

you crossed your arms, fixing him with a pointed stare. “it wasn’t an essay. it was three bullet points, nishimura. three. and if you had bothered to read it, we wouldn’t be behind schedule. i gave you a week of prep and we are running so far behind with vendors and financing.”

he shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “guess I like living on the edge. keeps life interesting.”

“you know what’s really interesting?” you shot back, grabbing a stack of papers and thrusting them into his hands. “you doing your job for once. congratulations, you’ve been promoted to my assistant for the day.”

“not even co-pres,” he sighed, hoping to annoy you further, lucky for him, it did.

it only took a moment of fidgeting for riki to figure out how to use the copy machine, and while it was a simple thing, god you hated how he already found a more efficient method than what you were doing within 5 minutes. 

“impressed yet?” riki smirked, glancing at you as the copier whirred to life. “i think i’m a natural. maybe you should consider me for co-president after all.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the pang of annoyance—and grudging admiration—that flared up. “don’t get too comfortable, nishimura. one productive moment doesn’t erase a weeks worth of slacking.”

“ah, but it’s a start,” he said, stacking the freshly printed papers with a flourish. “besides, you need me. who else is gonna keep you from working yourself into an early grave?”

“i don’t need you,” you retorted, grabbing a paper clip and aggressively fastening a stack together. “i just tolerate you because i don’t have a choice, the school admin assigned someone from the student body to help, and it just so happens the student body thinks you’re oh so funny.”

“tolerate, huh?” he leaned in, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly confident tone that always got under your skin. “clearly, it’s more if you trust me to copy fliers for..” he looks down at what he’s been copying all along. 

“‘Jinglin Bucks for Joy’ Holiday Auction” he trails off with a look of disgust.

“who named this charity auction?” he spewed out pure critique from his tone.

you rolled your eyes, snatching the top sheet from the stack in his hands. “does it matter who named it? it’s for a good cause. not everything needs your approval, riki.”

“oh, come on,” he said, leaning against the copy machine with an exaggerated pout. “you have to admit it’s a little... cringy. ‘Jinglin’ Bucks for Joy’?”

“it’s festive,” you countered, defending the name despite secretly agreeing it could’ve been better. “and unlike you, the rest of us are focused on making sure this event actually raises money instead of nitpicking the title.”

“just saying, i think you could be earning a lot more if you didn't have that as a name,” he put his hands up at your accusatory tone.

“well, too bad that’s what it is,”

“anyways, i’m done copying these, and i’d say i did a pretty damn good job,” he smugly said waving around the last stack of copied papers in his hand.

“congratulations,” you said dryly, grabbing the packet from him. “you’re officially the MVP of the copy room. want a medal or something?”

“actually, i was thinking more like dinner,” he said casually, tossing the suggestion out like it was no big deal.

your hand froze mid-motion, the papers suddenly feeling heavier than they should. “dinner?”

he shrugged, a playful grin still plastered on his face, but there was something softer in his eyes. “just to celebrate our hard work, of course. unless you’re scared i might make it fun.”

“you wish,” you muttered, turning away to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “finish your stack first, and then we’ll talk.”

he laughed, the sound warm and light. “deal. but don’t keep me waiting too long, pres.”

─── ♡

for the longest time ever, nishimrua riki could not figure out why you hated him so much. every glaring look you gave him when he greeted you. 

every sarcastic comment you threw his way—none of it made sense to him. sure, he liked to tease you, but he teased everyone. with you, though, it felt personal, like there was an invisible barrier between you two that he couldn’t break through no matter how hard he tried.

he wasn’t even sure when you had started hating him, let alone why. 

back in 6th grade when you were classmates and he swears thats the last time you’ve ever been nice to him in like, the history of ever. 

riki racked his brain, replaying every interaction the two of you had since sixth grade. back then, you’d actually smiled at him, even laughed at his dumb jokes about the teacher’s weird handwriting.

he even thought you were cute and might’ve been developing a crush at the time. that’s an understatement though.

actually, riki had been obsessed with you in sixth grade. the kind of crush that made him extra careful not to look like an idiot when you were around. he remembered trying to impress you during gym class, running just a little faster during laps or kicking the soccer ball a little harder, even if it meant face planting into the ground one too many times.

he was convinced that if he ever had the chance to tell you how he felt, you’d smile at him and say you liked him back and you’d live happily ever after. childish, sure, but he was a sixth grader—what did he know about anything?

now that you and him were finally working together on the school’s lame, and failing charity event, he was determined more than ever to get to the bottom of why you hated him so, so bad.

and of course, it starts with dinner. 

that, being the $6 after hours discount sushi at your grocery store. okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best dinner imaginable, but with riki’s limited budget and even more limited time, it was the best he could do on short notice. plus, he was convinced sushi was a universal icebreaker—who could resist a good spicy salmon roll with day-old rice and browning avocado? 

no wonder it was $6.

“dinner,” you deadpanned, staring at the plastic containers he held out. “this is your grand idea to fix whatever this disaster of a charity event is?”

“no,” he grinned, plopping the containers onto the nearest desk and pulling up a chair. “this is my grand idea to get you to talk to me without biting my head off.”

you raised a brow, unimpressed. “and why would i do that?”

“because,” he started, peeling the lid off a tray of salmon rolls, “you’ve gotta eat, and i’m not leaving until we clear the air.”

you rolled your eyes. there was no way you were going to be talking about your issues with riki. “i’m not talking about my issues with you, we’re gonna be talking plans for the charity event,”

riki sighed dramatically, picking up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks. “fine, fine, charity event it is. but I’m warning you, my feelings might get hurt if you keep ignoring me.”

“oh, cry me a river,” you muttered, flipping open your notebook and pulling out a list of tasks. “we need to finalize the vendor approvals, confirm the auction items, and—”

“kinda cold out no?” he asked absent mindedly looking at his phone. you groaned in disapproval, how many more reasons could he give you for hating him?

“can you focus for 2 seconds nishimura?” you questioned with annoying radiating strongly from your tone. “you’re the reason we’re behind right now, and we need to get a move on, except no, you’re on your phone, and get to take credit for the work, i’m doing,” 

riki slowly put his phone down, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “you done, boss?”

“no, i’m not done,” you snapped, glaring at him. “you’re insufferable, nishimura. do you even care about this event?”

he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with an easy smirk. “of course i care. i’m here, aren’t i?”

“barely,” you shot back, flipping through your notebook aggressively. “you’re here, but you’re not actually helping. if you cared even a little, you’d—”

“relax,” he interrupted, his tone unusually calm. “you’re gonna give yourself a stress headache. i already checked in with the admins about the vendors, they’re all approved, and i sorted through part of the auction items already,”

you were skeptical to say the least, unsure of the quality of work riki would put in. he turned his phone around and handed it to you, letting you look through all the documents and files he’d pulled up.

you scanned the screen, flipping through the emails and spreadsheets he’d meticulously organized. it was... surprising. everything looked in order, maybe even more thorough than what you’d expected.

“don’t stress yourself out, kay? i’ve can handle stuff too. that’s why they put two of us up to this,”

you narrowed your eyes at him, still not entirely convinced. “you’re way too relaxed about this. it’s weird. are you trying to mess with me?”

“y/n,” he put his hand around your wrist forcing you to set your chopsticks down for a second, “put some faith into me, let me help,” 

you hesitated, staring at where his hand rested lightly on your wrist. his touch wasn’t overbearing, just steady enough to get your attention. his words lingered in the air longer than you cared to admit.

“fine,” you muttered, pulling your hand back and avoiding his gaze. “but if you screw this up, it’s on you.”

─── ♡

one week had gone by since nishimura riki had started being useful. you were surprised with the quality of work he put into the project, not ever once worrying about any finance emails as he was quick to take care of it.

not only that, but he had started showing up to your study sessions, popping by with snacks or making sure you were eating at least once a day.

it was… weird to say the least. you couldn’t say you didn’t like it though. it felt nice to not be entirely alone, worrying about yourself and everyone else constantly.

riki even brought coffee to your early morning meetings with the district board, handing it to you with a teasing smirk, "you looked like you were about to fall asleep in your notes, so I thought I'd help."

you tried not to smile too much at the gesture, but it was hard to ignore the small spark of fondness that began to grow inside you. his thoughtfulness was... unexpected, especially given how much you had believed him to be nothing more than a lazy troublemaker.

you kept trying to find reason after reason to nitpick at riki, yet none came up. you could’ve sworn it was easier to find so much fault in everything he’d do before you had started working together, but all of a sudden they’ve faded.

at first, it had been so easy to be irritated by him. the way he’d walk into a room like he owned it, his stupid grin that seemed to always be a little too smug, the way he’d talk as if everything was a joke.

 you'd spent years loathing his presence, convinced he was just some annoying, carefree guy who only cared about himself and was out to make your life more difficult. that’s what you’d told yourself. that’s what you believed.

but now? now, it was different. working side by side on the charity event, you began to notice things you’d never seen before. the way he cared about the details. the way he would take over when you got overwhelmed, quietly working to fix things before you could even ask for help. the way he showed up on time every day, doing everything he could to make sure things ran smoothly.

it was... disorienting, to say the least.

it was late one evening, the two of you sprawled across the desks, working on the final details of the charity event.

"you’re the only one who would still be working at this hour," riki said, leaning back in his chair and watching you from across the room. his gaze softened for a moment, but you didn't notice. you were too busy finishing a set of final emails. "can I help with anything else?" he asked casually, but you could hear the underlying sincerity in his voice.

“guess you can take a break you bum, go grab a snack from the vending machine or something, grab me a sprite while you’re at it,” you say, digging out a $5 bill from your pocket and holding it out behind you, while focused on the screen in front of you.

he raised an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation as he stood up and took a step toward the door. "i got it," he said with a grin, slipping the bill back into your hand before you could protest. "this one’s on me." 

a few minutes later, riki returns, the sound of the vending machine bag crinkling in his hands. he places a can of sprite on the corner of your desk with a flourish. "your highness," he says dramatically, "your drink, as requested."

“mm thanks,” you hum, cracking open the can and taking a sip out of the cold refreshing drink, the fizz laying dormant on your tongue.

“you don’t need to keep doing all this nice stuff to win me over, just cause we’re working on the auction, you know that right?” you comment after taking another sip.

“ah, so I’m starting to win you over,” riki grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “told you I’d be useful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your lips were tugging into a small smile. "don’t get ahead of yourself, nishimura," you muttered, though it was clear you were no longer bothered. in fact, you kind of... liked having him around.

you didn’t hate nishimura riki.

─── ♡

the day before the auction rolls around faster than you thought it would. 

while you and riki should be meeting with the vendors in person and getting other important work done, the two of you found yourselves putting up the last batch of fliers for the event, your hands full of paper and tape.

“ugh, why do we have to be the ones doing this?” you muttered, sticking another flier to the wall, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool surface. "we should be overseeing the auction, not putting up fliers like we're in charge of the school play's promo team."

riki chuckled from beside you, holding a stack of fliers in his hand as he adjusted his baseball cap. "hey, someone’s gotta do it. besides, you’re the one who wanted these ridiculous posters," he teased, pointing at the flyer in your hand, which featured a picture of a reindeer in a santa hat with overly saturated colors.

“i’ll have you know, these posters are actually art,” you shot back with a grin, tapping the paper to the wall a little more forcefully than necessary. “besides, i’d like to think they’re festive.”

“sure, sure,” riki said, his grin spreading wider as he glanced at the flier you were working on. “if by festive you mean blinding.”

you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. riki’s teasing had become a lot easier to tolerate, maybe even fun. he was good at making you laugh, something you never thought he could do before.

 the playful banter you’d shared over the past week was slowly chipping away at the character of riki you’d spent years building up in your mind.

“you tryna go out and get hot chocolate after we wrap this up?” he asked, cocking his head gauging your reaction.

“in this weather?” you asked, glancing outside where the wind whipped against the window and the sky was an icy gray. “are you out of your mind?”

“maybe,” he grinned. “but hot chocolate makes everything better, right?”

you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. riki was right, in his own annoying way. hot chocolate did sound nice, especially on a day like today. the thought of sitting down somewhere, just the two of you, without the weight of the charity event hanging over you... it felt strangely appealing.

“fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes dramatically. “but if you make me walk to the corner shop in this cold, i'm blaming you.”

“deal,” he said, not missing a beat. “we’ll take my car.”

he flashed a grin at you, and for a second, you almost felt like it wasn’t just about the hot chocolate. there was something more in his eyes, something that made the conversation feel different, lighter, almost... comforting.

you quickly pushed that thought aside. no, you weren’t about to go down that path. but you couldn’t deny that riki was making it harder to keep your walls up. every little interaction, every small smile, made you rethink the way you’d viewed him for years.

it was as if the years of tension, of seeing him as nothing more than an annoying, reckless guy, were slowly fading into something else.

yet, in the back of your mind, that old familiar voice crept in—the one that told you to be careful, to guard your heart because you knew exactly what happened when you let your guard down.

you’d been there before. back in seventh grade, when you’d caught feelings for him and let yourself believe maybe—just maybe—he could feel the same. but that was before the truth or dare game, before he laughed it off like it was a joke, like it was nothing worth taking seriously. 

he’d been so carefree, so effortlessly charming in front of everyone, and you’d been so embarrassed. you’d sworn to yourself you’d never let yourself fall for him again.

and yet, here you were. laughing with him, sharing these moments like you were the closest of friends. it was easy to forget the hurt, easy to ignore the part of you that still flinched at the memory of his laughter.

you wanted to be able to move past though, and believe he wouldn’t be the same boy who’d laugh if you told him you liked him

he stood up, pulling his jacket on and offering you a hand as if he had all the time in the world. “you ready?”

you hesitated for a moment, then grabbed your own coat and stood up. “mhm, yeah.”

“you won’t regret it,” he said with that same confident grin, and for the first time in a long time, you believed him.

you shook your head, trying to push those thoughts away. there was no way he would do that to you again, right? no, he’d changed. he had to have changed.

but even as you smiled back at him, as the two of you walked out into the cold night together, the doubt gnawed at you like a constant shadow, just waiting for the perfect moment to remind you of all the reasons you had to keep your distance.

─── ♡

nishimura riki could feel himself falling. again. though it’s not like actually every fell out liking you to begin with. 

and now, as he sat across from you, trying to figure out how to navigate this new territory—where the walls you’d built between you were finally starting to crumble—he couldn’t help but feel that same pull toward you, that same feeling of wanting to be close.

he felt himself feel like he was back in middle school with you all over again.

then it hit him what had gone wrong, and he knew he had to set the record straight.

“so... seventh grade,” he started, turning back to you, handing you your cup.

you froze mid-sip, the mention of that year, let alone night, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you. “what about it?”

he set his chopsticks down, his expression unusually serious. “is that when you started hating me?”

you scoffed, crossing your arms as the words slipped out before you could stop them. “sure.”

you felt your walls building back up, stronger this time, higher than before. that night had been the catalyst for everything that followed—your reason for hating nishimura riki.

riki watched you carefully, his eyes softening. there was no sign of mockery in his gaze, no hint of teasing—just the same quiet sincerity you had seen over the past few weeks. but you weren’t sure you could let yourself fall for it again.

“i’m serious,” he said quietly, his voice lacking the usual playful edge. “was it really that night? or... was it just easier to keep hating me after?”

your chest tightened at his words, a mixture of frustration and confusion swirling within you. “i don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, finally meeting his gaze. you couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it only made you more anxious.

“if it brings you any peace of mind, i laughed because i liked you, okay?” the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and his cheeks flushed pink. “i liked you, and you blurting out that you had a crush on me... it threw me off.”

your jaw dropped, the confession catching you completely off guard.

“you... what?”

“i liked you,” he repeated, quieter this time, his gaze dropping to the table. “but i handled it like an idiot, and i’m sorry. i should’ve stood up for you, if you wanna keep hating me, go ahead.”

“i’m sorry for holding it against you all this time,” you mumbled.

riki didn’t look up at you immediately, but you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. you had no idea what to say after that. the words you’d carried with you for so long—the reasons you hated him, the reasons you pushed him away—suddenly felt like nothing more than old wounds that had started to heal on their own, without you realizing it.

you sat in silence for a moment, both of you unsure how to move forward. it was almost as if the confession had left you both vulnerable, unprotected.

“you really liked me?” you asked, half laughing at how ridiculous it sounded now that it was out in the open.

riki’s eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion, and he shrugged, the teasing tone returning to his voice. “yeah. shocking, right?”

the playful comment was like a breath of fresh air, and for a second, the tension between you both was broken. but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was racing, the fluttering feeling you hadn’t experienced in so long.

“i think, i like you too nishimura,”

“good, keep it that way,” he smiled, reaching out his free hand not surrounding his cup to clasp yours.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. "you know, you’ve actually been pretty decent lately," you said with a teasing smile, hoping to lighten the moment a bit. "maybe you’ve actually grown up, or maybe i have"

me chuckled, leaning back in his chair, but his hand remained near yours, his fingers lightly grazing the back of your hand. "maybe I have. but I’m still the same guy who likes you. just... trying to be better about it."

you bit your lip, your smile softening as you took in his words. for once, you didn’t feel like you had to keep your guard up. "i think I like this version of you."

"good," riki said, his voice barely above a whisper. "because this version of me likes you too."

a silence fell upon the two of you as you took in the atmosphere around you, looking around awkwardly.

“well,” you said after a beat, not sure where this was headed, but feeling oddly at ease. “you really know how to make things awkward.”

riki grinned, the corners of his lips curling into that familiar mischievous smile. “you’re the one who’s been holding a grudge for, what—years?”

“rightfully so, you’re the one who laughed. you’re lucky the student body voted you to work on the auction with me,” you shot back, the edge of your tone softening just a bit. It was hard to keep being mad when he was being so... well, riki.

“hey, don’t act like you could’ve done this with anyone else,” he teased, nudging your arm lightly with his own. “i mean, look at us. we’ve made a pretty good team, right?”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "yeah, a pretty good team that almost got yelled at and kicked off the project because you were too busy texting during the planning meetings."

“hey, i was checking in with the vendors,” he said defensively, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “i’m a multitasker.”

“you mean you’re just a distraction,” you replied, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

“uh huh,” he rolled his eyes, grinning afterwards. 

─── ♡

the day of the auction soon came and you found yourself getting ready with a hopeful mind of what was to come. 

the last few weeks of you and riki’s hard work would finally be tested, and hopefully you could bring back some holiday cheer for charity, though a layer of uncertainty was still in your mind.

as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress, you couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease than usual. the nerves had faded, replaced with something lighter. maybe it was the fact that you and riki had finally talked things out, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing you weren’t doing this alone anymore. you still didn’t have everything figured out between the two of you, but for the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page.

you met riki backstage before the event started. his hair was perfectly styled, and the suit he wore fit him just right. there was something about him in that moment—calm, collected, yet still as mischievous as ever—that made your heart do a little flip.

“you look good,” you said, trying to sound casual, though there was a softness to your voice that you couldn’t hide.

riki turned to you with a teasing grin, but his eyes softened when he took you in. “you look amazing,” he said, the sincerity in his tone making you feel a little shy. “i mean it.”

your heart skipped, and you brushed your hair back, trying to play it off. “well, don’t get used to it. you’re the one who’s been doing most of the work,” you joked, nudging his arm playfully.

“true, true,” he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips as he adjusted his cufflinks. “but you’ve been the brains behind it. i’m just the pretty face.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile creeping up on your face. “right, the ‘pretty face’ who kept texting during all the important meetings.”

he chuckled, the sound light and easy. “hey, it was multitasking. get it right.”

before you could respond, someone called your names, signaling that the event was about to start. riki offered you his arm with a grin, the moment feeling a little more like a date than anything else.

as you walked into the venue together, the lights dimmed, and the guests filled the room. the auction was about to begin, but in the chaos of people and students gathering around and the rush of excitement, you found yourself standing next to riki, feeling surprisingly calm.

“you ready for this?” he asked, his voice low, just for you.

you gave a small nod. “i think so. let’s just hope we don’t screw anything up.”

he grinned, his hand brushing yours briefly. “even if we do, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

you took your seat in the front row with your bid paddle in hand as you watched riki announce each item.

the first few items went smoothly, and you found yourself glancing over at riki every now and then, catching his eye, and feeling his radiating confidence.

you glanced back at the screen over and over, watching the donation reach close to the school goal of $2000, feeling hopeful you might actually hit it for once.

the auction had been a smooth ride so far, with everything going according to plan. the excitement in the air was palpable, and you could feel the buzz of anticipation from both the audience and the team behind the scenes. each item was going for more than expected, and the donations were rolling in steadily. everything was shaping up to be a success.

then came the final item.

riki stepped up to the microphone, his usual teasing grin plastered on his face. “alright, folks,” he began, his voice smooth and confident, “we’ve got one last item up for grabs. it’s the grand finale, the cherry on top of this entire event. it’s... a date with yours truly.” a cocky smile formed on his face, as he nodded smugly, pointing to himself.

you froze, the surprise hitting you a second too late. the audience erupted into laughter and applause, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at riki’s ridiculousness. he gave a mock bow, and the laughter grew louder.

“that’s right, ladies and even gents,” he continued, his eyes scanning the crowd. “you get to spend an evening with the one and only nishimura riki. dinner, a walk in the park, maybe even a movie if you're lucky. the best date of your life. no need to thank me.” he shrugged, clearly enjoying himself.

you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “seriously, riki?” you mouthed towards him watching as he smiled smugly back.

“alright we’re starting this bid at $1, any takers?” his eyes scanned the crowd jokingly as he continued on, watching as people egged each other on to bid.

but before you could stop yourself, you found your hand reaching for your bid paddle. your eyes flickered to riki, who was watching you with an amused expression.

“come on, y/n,” he teased, “you know you want to.”

you hesitated for a moment, but the playful glint in his eyes, the way he looked at you as if daring you to do it, pushed you forward. with a mischievous grin of your own, you raised your paddle, calling out “$100!” with a cheerful smile.

the crowd’s reaction was instantaneous—there were gasps, followed by bursts of laughter, as the bid sheet was raised for all to see. the final bid was noticeably higher than the previous ones, and you could feel your face flush with the attention.

“going once, going twice, and sold!” he announced, slamming the gavel with a strong bang.

“well, well,” riki said, stepping back to to take the microphone from the stand to hand it to you, his expression one of mock shock. “looks like someone’s feeling bold tonight. looks like y/n just won a date with me, someone’s got a crush, i don’t blame her.”

you shot him a look, trying to keep your cool. “you better be prepared, riki,” you said, your voice just loud enough for the mic to catch as he handed you the mic to give your statement.

he raised an eyebrow, looking both impressed and slightly nervous. “oh, it’s on. and just like that lady and gents, we just hit our goal too,” he added, glancing at the screen where the total amount had just surpassed the $2000 mark.

the room erupted into applause, and you felt a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment settle over you. riki’s grin softened into something a little more sincere.

as the applause continued and the event slowly came to a close, you found yourself standing beside riki, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the two of you shared a quiet moment. there was something unspoken between you now, something that went beyond the playful teasing and jokes.

“you know,” riki said, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “this whole thing—working together, laughing, making this auction happen—it’s been... nice. really nice.”

you turned to him, catching the genuine warmth in his gaze. “yeah,” you agreed, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. “it’s been good.”

the awkwardness from earlier had melted away, replaced by a sense of ease you hadn’t felt in a long time. you could see riki in a new light now, not just the careless, teasing guy from your past, but someone who actually cared, who had grown alongside you.

“so,” riki said, breaking the silence, “now that the auction’s done, what do we do next?”

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “well, since you owe me a date, we could start with that,” you said, unable to resist.

riki smirked, his usual confidence returning. “oh, i’m looking forward to it.”

riki’s smirk softened as he took a small step closer to you, his gaze lingering on yours in a way that made your heart race. the space between you felt different now—more intimate, charged with a new energy that neither of you had quite acknowledged until now.

“yeah?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper as his hand brushed against yours, just a touch, but it was enough to send a jolt through you.

you nodded, feeling your breath catch. “yeah,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart was anything but.

he was so close now, his presence overwhelming in the best way, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. the noise of the event faded away, leaving just the two of you standing in the soft glow of the lights.

without another word, riki leaned in, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, seeking permission. you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the same warmth that had been growing between you both over the last few weeks.

you couldn’t help but smile, a little breathless, before you leaned in, closing the gap. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, but the moment your lips met, something shifted. it was like a weight had been lifted, like all the years of misunderstandings, teasing, and distance finally melted away.

riki’s hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer as the kiss deepened, slow and gentle. it was everything—everything you’d both been waiting for, without even realizing it.

he pulled away smiling, wiping the small bit of lipgloss that had smudged, looking into your eyes.

the two of you shared a look, the kind that spoke volumes, and for the first time, you weren’t worried about the future. you didn’t know where this would go, but for once, it didn’t matter. what mattered was that you were here, together, and that was enough for now.

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved.

[spiderfunkz]

HYUN-JU x TALKACTIVE!READER

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

author's note: this is so me.. i talk way too much so i'm lowkey just projecting myself on here. anyways, requests are open but i'm taking my time replying since i've been busy so just keep that in mind!

▸ hyun-ju is a good listener. a great one, even. she's got a big heart and soul, she's someone who is willing to listen to whatever you have to say. and she doesn't just listen, she tries to understand. which is a quality that is hard to find these days.

▸ you noticed it a bit later in your relationship. every time you talk, she listens and isn't afraid to ask questions regarding your situation or interest. she's genuinely invested in what you have to say. "oh, really? tell me more, hon."

▸ even if you just say random things or suggestions related to literally anything, she's all ears! whatever is going on in your head, every single sentence you utter, she's always nodding a long. she's probably wondering how you managed to say three sentences in a second.

▸ you tend to get very extroverted when you get comfortable. you'd ramble about anything for hours and hours, hyun-ju finds this adorable. she's definitely admiring you as you speak, your words always find a way to her heart.

▸ if you were talking about something she has no clue in, she's gonna research about it either online or in books so she could talk about it with you! even if small mistakes slip, her efforts show. and you appreciate that more than ever.

▸ "wait, you watched the movie and read the book?" — "yeah! i thought it would be nice to discuss it with you. you talked about it nonstop last week, so i figured i'd give it a look, and i must admit- you do have amazing taste."

▸ good moods mean you'd go on walks with hyun-ju and visit multiple parks at once. pointing out random birds, trees, and flower types. speaking whatever crossed your mind in specific moments.

▸ "oh look! a daisy. did you know daisies bloom in the spring like every other flower and their last bloom is in autumn? though, that's very common, um. ah! moon flowers, they only bloom one night a year." you'd giggle, "i did not know, but i do now!" hyun-ju smiles.

▸ during movies you can get very quiet. but as the movie ends, you'd ramble quicker than speed itself. "it's okay. at best. i just don't understand why the characters would do such things! i guess it is fictional, but still! does logic not exist in that universe?"

▸ same thing with books, you can read for hours in silence, but as soon as you close the book... "hyun! you must read this! not only is this one of a kind, but once you read it you can not put it down. i love it so much, it made me tear up a bit because of a character, but, um. okay, no spoilers!"

▸ hyun-ju could get really lost in your voice sometimes. you'd be talking about something silly like rocks or something, and she'd still be mesmerized. hyun-ju thinks that your voice could easily soothe her to sleep.

▸ and it's true, your voice makes her feel so safe. during conversations, she gets sudden realizations of how lucky she truly is. to be able to listen to you, in a calm setting, just the two of you.

▸ if you send her voice notes, she'd listen to it on repeat. especially when she's away or vice versa, she loves hearing your voice over and over as it gives ger comfort.

▸ "hey, hyun! i know you're really busy, and i know you only listen to my voice notes when you're done with work, so i ought to tell you about how much i love you. and how much i miss you. don't forget to tell me goodnight, or not the bed bugs might bite me."

▸ she would never think of your ongoing talks as unimportant. if you would suddenly pause and stop talking, she'd notice immediately. but hyun-ju always reassures you that it's perfectly okay.

▸ if you feel tired or off, and you just wanna be quiet for a bit, hyun-ju likes to ramble too, she does it a bit more often ever since she's met you. her voice is sleepy, her head lays near yours, your bed is cold and hyun-ju is the only source of warmth. as she traces your hands, "do you wanna know what happened earlier in the office?" you'd nod, she'd talk and only stop when you've completely fallen asleep.

▸ "and that's the end of it. goodnight, angel." she'd place a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep herself.

[revelboo]

God I hope one day whatever Nonsense happens on the Everything Is Alright Nemesis someone runs up to sparked Megatron like "Lord Megatron you will not believe what happened in the 20 seconds we were left to our own devices-" and they run in and hes just

And the human is next to him in their own lounge chair also kicked back bc if its his day off its THEIR day off too. Like go bother someone else, if Starscream wants to be in charge let him take it for the day and lets see if he hasnt started peeling his own paint from stress. Shoo.

(Image is from the Go Go comics!)

Megatron was already over it even before he got sideswiped by this nonsense. Megatron’s a ticking time bomb at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 117

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Aware of the very judgmental look Soundwave is aiming at you as you just watch Star get scruffed by Megatron while your mate screams what you’re guessing is Cybertronian profanity and Megatron just laughs, you’re so tired. Sick of aliens and their stupid, alien bullshit. Something Soundwave seems to sense as he vents and just turns and walks away with you. “Megatron?” He prompts as he carries you and your shoulders creep up to your ears.

• You’d denied him when he’d tried to fully bond to you and had fully bonded Megatron instead. Just when he thinks he’s figured out humans and he can’t help but be a little hurt about it. “Please, don’t look at me like that, I was so out of it, it’s not like I had any idea what was happening,” you say and he caves at your angry, little expression, reaching to tap a servo under you chin. “You’re going to go back and stop them, right? Soundwave?” No, he’s going to let them work it out. It’s not like they can really hurt each other anymore anyway. You’ve effectively made it so neither can murder the other. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so horrifying.

• Apparently he’s not going to do anything about the fight, Soundwave seeming not at all concerned about it. “Big trouble,” Soundwave admonishes, a servo rubbing your jaw as he carries you back to his quarters. And you have no idea if he means accidentally giving Megatron Star’s sparkling, fully bonding Megatron, or passing out. Probably all three. Sitting on his berth with you and mass shifting, his arms curl around you. “Worried, little one,” he says, voice soft.

• Rumbling softly as you reach up to cup his face, a thumb sliding against his mask until he retracts it for you. Do you have any idea how much you scared him? That when Starscream had collapsed, he’d been afraid he’d lost you again. “So Megatron is sparked now. Is that normal? You guys passing the spark?” You ask and he shakes his head. Because nothing about mating a human has been normal. Causing more chaos in the short time he’s known you than the Autobots have the whole war.

• So you’re a weird one off. Fantastic. And then the door is opening as Megatron drags Starscream in by a wing, your other mate still swearing as he’s shoved into the room and Soundwave vents tiredly against you. “Little pet,” Megatron snarls, optics narrowed. “You’d spark a mech and then abandon them?” Why? Why is it like this? Hiding your face against Soundwave’s neck, you just want to cry. And Megatron’s still grinning that slightly mad little smile that makes you skin crawl and promises retribution at some point for what you’d accidentally done. You’re starting to really hate aliens.

Previous

[axnqel]

ⓘ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ I will do anything for you, babe.

─ pairing .ᐟ homelander x fem!psychiatrist!reader

─ synopsis & word count .ᐟ being hired by Vought as the psychiatrist for the seven wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned for your career. and captain patria falling in love with you? yeah, that definitely wasn't on the bingo card either. you liked him—God, you liked him more than you'd ever admit—but loving him? loving him felt impossible. it was like trying to hold onto a storm; no matter how hard you tried, it always slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake. | 4.0k words.

─ content warning .ᐟ slight ooc homelander, talks of narcissism, obsessive behaviors, homelander tweaking out, lwk stalking...., reader being quite literally the complete opposite of homelander, slight arguing but tbh it's lwk one-sided, angst, hurt/not really comfort, ending can be interpreted differently tbh, takes place somewhere in season one i guess.

─ c speaks .ᐟ tiktoks gone and i had over 100 homelander edits and i was only able to save 21. this is what happens when no one turns on their saves. in mourning fr. (edit: i deleted the app when it got banned. yes i know, biggest mistake because now its back??? like omigod), also try to spot the lana songs i referenced by name !!

Vought Tower was intimidating on your first day, though you’d never admit it out loud. The glass walls, the sterile halls, the feeling that the entire building is watching you—it all felt like stepping inside a gilded cage. You weren’t naive; you knew this job wasn’t going to be easy. You’d read the reports, seen the news, and done your research. The Seven were powerful, untouchable, and deeply dysfunctional.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done anything similar to this before. You’d worked as a trauma counselor for too long and needed something new. But although this wasn’t that different from your previous job, the paycheck Vought offered you was obscene, and the idea of helping anyone navigate that kind of mess was almost too good a challenge to resist.

Still, the reality of it was a little more… intense.

“Try not to take anything personally,” Ashley Barrett chirped, with her tangy-pitched voice and her heels clicking too quickly down the hallway as you struggled to keep pace. “They can be… uh, strong personalities.”

Well, that’s lovely. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, clutching your notebook tighter. Strong personalities. Sure. That sounded like Vought’s PR-approved way of saying absolute trainwrecks and fucking maniacs.

The first meeting was set in the briefing room, a sleek conference space with a long table that was seemingly just for show. Fortunately for you, this was just an introductory meeting, and you had extra time to prepare for the sessions you would have with the supes later.

You weren’t expecting them to show up all at once—if they even showed up at all. But as you stood near the head of the table, straightening the folder in your hands for what felt like the thousandth time. the door swung open.

And there he was.

Homelander didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. It was the first thing you truly noticed about him. Perfect posture, perfect suit, perfect smile that somehow felt more threatening than polite. His presence swallowed everything else, leaving no room for anyone else to breathe. And when his sharp blue eyes landed on you, it felt as though the world was closing in on you.

"You're the shrink?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Psychiatrist," you corrected, keeping your voice steady.

He chuckled, low and quiet, like he'd already decided this was going to be fun—for him, anyway.

"Welcome." He said, his eyebrows raising as he walked over to the chair at the head of the table.

You stepped a few steps over, but that clearly did nothing as he subtly scooted closer to you.

My, did you need so much strength for this job.

The job was not easy. In case that wasn't already clear. Getting the supes to cooperate was like talking to a wall. You didn't want to coerce them into spilling out every detail of their life, but you weren't expecting them to be so grounded. Maybe your judgement was just clouded from what the media showed you about them.

Luckily, your office was a calm contrast from the chaos exhibited in Vought tower. The decor was intentionally neutral-earthy tones, soft lighting, and a simple desk with your tablet, folder, and notebook resting on top. A pair of comfortable chairs sat across from each other, meant to foster openness. Yet, the calm facade of the room was tested by the personalities that walked through the door.

Maeve was... okay. She was sweet, closed off, and knew exactly when to stop talking. PR training had clearly blinded her.

Black Noir was quiet—obviously but did exchange a couple words through his notepad.

A-Train was clouded and very insecure. However, that didn't change your resentment for his attitude towards you. Goodness.

The Deep pissed. you. off. But you kept a professional demeanor. His misguided attempt to flirt with you and the exaggerated confidence almost made you want to punch a hole in the wall. Ha.

Starlight might've just been your favorite yet. She was sweet and willing to talk, and her soft voice made you feel safe.

However, when the clock struck 6:00, and Homelander walked into your office on the dot, lord, you might as well have fainted.

It wasn't that you liked him or idolized him. You barely knew of him. Of course, you'd heard the name here and there, but to be frank, you never kept up and your family didn't give two shits. But the way he carried himself and spoke to you, it made your heart clench.

He was surprisingly so open to speaking, but the more he opened his mouth, the more narcissistic he seemed. If you could diagnose him with a God complex, you would. He acted like some million-dollar man, though he truly was. It just seemed he wanted to be in charge wherever he went.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I want to hear about how you're doing and how I can... support you." You kept your expression neutral, though your pulse quickened.

Homelander's smile widened, but there was an edge to it. "Support me? That's cute, but I'm fine. Really. The question is, how are you holding up? First day on the job and all." His tone was so friendly and polite, it confused her.

And it went on like this every session. He would come at 6 P.M. on the dot every Friday and the atmosphere in the room would become so charged. His presence was so magnetic, and his smile was disarming, yet the more he talked, and the more you listened, you started to feel some kind of way. Not anything you could explain, as ironic as that seemed.

And there was no kidding he felt something too. But your feelings were nothing compared to his.

He felt a burning desire for you the minute he walked into that conference room and looked you straight in the eye. He was willing to give himself up for you, and it felt so weird for him. Never in his many years of living did he ever feel this way.

Plus, you were just some ordinary woman. There was nothing special about you to the ordinary eye. You weren't a superhero or an entrepreneur. At the end of the day, you were just a psychiatrist, trying to make it through the day. If that was the case, then why was he so drawn to you?

He didn't understand—no—he couldn't understand.

And as time went on, this desire only grew stronger. Mutually.

Homelander began to fixate on you, quite unhealthily for that matter. It started innocently enough: more frequent eye contact in your sessions, lingering in the doorway of your office, showing up early for your sessions, or even walking you out of the tower at the end of your shift.

Being around you was like a balm for the constant chaos in his mind.

To him, you're unlike anyone he's ever met: calm, kind, and so completely human it fascinates and unnerves him. You were the complete opposite of him, and he never thought he could be attracted to that.

He's always managed to be in a relationship that was, while short-lived, with someone who elicited every ounce of his personality. Someone who was just like him. And maybe that was a good thing, who knows? But it only confused him more.

At first, he tries to justify it. You're his psychiatrist. His shrink. Nothing less, nothing more. You're meant to listen to him, to care about his feelings; he tells himself it's just your job.

However, as time goes on, he starts wanting needing more. He's tired of the patient-doctor dynamic. He begins asking personal questions, sometimes invasive, using his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on your conversations with others, and justifying it all with the idea that he's "protecting" you. Problem is, he doesn't really know what he's doing. He's just trying to convince himself that his actions are worth being justified.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the shift in his behavior and try to keep the professional boundaries. You remind him, gently but firmly, that the relationship is strictly therapeutic. But it felt like you were telling yourself that rather than the captain himself.

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Homelander brings up after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

You shifted in the cream-colored plush chair, your eyebrows raised with confusion. "I'm sorry?" You spoke questioningly. The two of you were just speaking about his narcissistic tendencies and now he's asking what your favorite ice cream flavor is? How bad was his attention span?

Homelander smiled, but it had that edge to it. So much so, you couldn't even tell if it was genuine. "What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Come on, you've gotta have one." He tilted his head as he continued to stare at you, his gaze never averting.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?

But somehow, it felt like the world had slowed down the moment he asked it. What?

You blinked, the words tumbling through your heads as if he'd said something infinitely profound. It was the question itself—it was the way he asked it. The casual tilt of his head, the way his lips curved in that perfect, effortless smile, like he wasn't aware of the absolute devastation he left in his wake. His eyes—bluer than any sky or ocean you'd ever seen—were locked on you, so unrelenting it felt like he could see straight through your skin. He could.

Your throat tightened, a mix of awe and panic, as if he'd plucked every coherent though from your mind and left you with nothing but the ridiculous, overwhelming knowledge that this man was impossibly beautiful. Lord.

It was embarrassing! Really. You weren't some love-struck teenager, swooning at the mere sight of him. But God help you, that's exactly what it felt like.

"Uh..." you stammered, your brain working overtime to catch up to the question. You barely managed to form words; your voice softer than you intended. "Mint chocolate chip. I guess."

His smile deepened, and for a split second, you thought he might laugh. Not in a cruel way, no, but in that teasing, playful way that made your chest tighten even more.

"I love mint chocolate chip." He said, and you swore the warmth in his tone was just for you.

And just like that, you were lost.

You walked into your office the next day to find a tiny red cooler on top of your desk, with 4 jars of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Homelander starts requesting more one-on-one sessions than originally planned. At first, he frames it as a necessity. "You know, it's stressful being me," he says with a tight-lipped smile during one session, leaning back in the chair like he owns the room. "I think I deserve a little extra... support."

You can't exactly argue. After all, this is your job, right? If he wanted extra support, he would get it. Simple as that. But even in those early days, there’s something about the way he watches you that makes your skin prickle—not with fear, not yet, but with the awareness of something unspoken hanging in the air.

It’s manageable, at first. He talks vaguely about the pressure of being perfect, about always having to put a show for the cameras, the crowd, and his fellow teammates. He doesn’t give you much, but to be fair, he doesn’t have to. You’ve worked with people similar to him before, people who hide their vulnerability behind bravado.

What surprises you, though, is how much he seems to want you to understand him.

And he clearly won’t stop until you do. Or until he makes you feel the same way he does.

It’s late—too late for anyone to still be in the building. You’ve been working late, reviewing session notes and preparing for tomorrow’s meeting with The Seven. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, and the silence of Vought Tower felt heavier than usual.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice him at first, not until his reflection suddenly became clear in the glass of your office window.

“Burning the midnight oil?” His voice was smooth, casual, but it startled you all the same.

You turned, clutching your chest. “Homelander—God, you scared me.

He stepped inside, uninvited, and you immediately noticed the difference in his appearance. His cape is slightly askew, his hair less perfect with strands falling into his face, and there’s a tension in his posture that you can’t seem to place.

“I was in the area,” he says, brushing off your concern with a shrug. “Thought I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

The statement threw you off. “I’m… fine,” you said carefully, unsure of where this was going. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here for that.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not trouble. You know, I think you’re the only person in this whole damn building who’s honest with me.”

There’s a rawness to his words that takes you off guard, but before you can respond, he’s already moving closer, standing just a little too close. His gaze felt heavier than usual, like he’s searching for something in you—validation, comfort, maybe both.

"You really care about people, don't you?" he asked softly, almost as if he's testing the waters.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. "I do. It's why I got into this field. I want to help."

He tilts his head, his smile sharpening into something darker, more knowing. "Even people like me?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You meet his eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "Especially people like you, Homelander."

"John." He corrected.

You furrowed your brows. "Sorry?"

"Call me John."

The first kiss didn't come softly—it was a collision.

It happened after one of your most intense and deep sessions. Homelander's mask slipped completely; his usual smirk replaced with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache. He's sat across from you, his hands gripping the edge of the chair as if he's afraid he might fall apart.

"I don't know how to stop," he admits, his voice low and trembling. "This... this thing inside of me. It's like... it's eating me alive."

You're not sure what to say. For all your training, for all your professionalism, you're still just a person. A person who feels too much.

"You're not broken, H... John," you whispered, even though you're not sure you believe it.

His eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, there's silence. Then he's standing, closing the distance between you in a single heartbeat.

"Don't say that," he says, his voice sharp but desperate. "Don't lie to me. You don't really understand—no one understands. But you... you're different."

Before you can stop him, his lips crash into yours. It's not gentle—it's needy, almost frantic, like he's trying to our everything he can't say into you. You feel the weight of his emotions in every movement, every shiver of his breath against your skin.

And for a moment, you let him. You kiss him back, your fingers curling into his suit as you let yourself drown in the intensity of it all.

But then reality hits, sharp and cold. You pull away, your breath hitching.

"This... we can't," you stammer, stepping back. "Homelander, this isn't right."

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze is locked on you, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, a smile curls across his lips—a soft, unsettling thing.

"You felt it too," he says quietly, and there's a glimmer of triumph in his tone.

You shake your head, and the pounding of your heart is like music to his ears. "This can't happen again," you whisper, but even as you say the words, you're not sure you believe them.

You tell yourself it was a mistake. That it was a moment of weakness, nothing more. But it doesn't feel like a mistake. Not when you catch Homelander looking at you during your sessions, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.

"I scare you, don't I?" he asks one day, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"You don't scare me," you reply, though your voice wavers.

He leans forward, his expression softening. "I should." He says, almost gently.

There's a part of you that wonders if he's right. If you're being reckless, selfish, delusional. But then there's another part of you—a darker, quieter part—that craves him. That loves him. Even though you know you shouldn't.

And that's the part that keeps you up at night.

You notice it the next morning—the way your mail seems disturbed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in your hallway. It's subtle at first, easy to dismiss. But it only gets worse.

You find flowers on your doorstep. Your favorite, in fact. There's no note, but you know exactly who they're from.

When you confront him during your next session, he doesn't even try to deny it.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, smiling like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"John, this isn't... appropriate," you say, your voice firm but uncertain.

"Appropriate?" He echoes, his smile fading. "After everything I've done for this country, for this cruel world... you're worried about what's appropriate?"

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. But his words stick with you, planting seeds of guilt and confusion that take root in your mind.

You're sitting in your apartment, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to shake the feeling that you're being watched. The soft hum of the radio fills the space and before you know it, he's there, standing on your balcony like he belongs there.

"You left the curtains open," he says, his tone teasing but his expression serious.

"John," you say, standing quickly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he steps inside, his gaze locking onto yours.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he says, his voice low and raw. "You're all I think about. Every second of every day. And it's driving me insane." He's practically fed up. He could kill you, get it over with and maybe then everything will go away. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that's not the case.

You should tell him to leave. But instead, you let him close the distance between you again.

When he kisses you this time, it's softer, slower, but no less intense. And once again, you let yourself get lost in it.

The kiss ends too soon, leaving you breathless and unsteady on your feet. Homelander—or rather, John, as he’s insisted you call him—steps back just enough to study your face. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of triumph, longing, and something darker, something that makes your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice almost tender. “I’d never let anything happen to you. No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”

You can’t stop the chill that runs down your spine at his words. There’s sincerity in them, but also a quiet promise, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. It’s like he’s already decided what your life will look like, as if the idea of you existing without him is unfathomable.

“I’m not afraid,” you lie, stepping back, trying to regain your composure. “But this… this isn’t right, John. You know it isn’t.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, the mask slips. The vulnerability you’ve seen in your sessions flickers, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder, more calculating.

He doesn’t like being told no. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, in the flicker of irritation that passes through his piercing blue eyes.

“But it feels right,” he counters, taking a step closer. “Doesn’t it? You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too. I know you do.”

You want to argue, to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. Because the truth is, he’s right. You do feel it. That pull, that connection, that overwhelming magnetism that makes it impossible to think straight when he’s around. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and daring yourself not to look down.

“This isn’t about what feels right,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “It’s about boundaries, John. About professionalism. And this—whatever this is—it crosses every line.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, slow and deliberate, like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re scared,” he says softly, almost sympathetically. “Not of me. Of how you feel about me.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Because he’s not wrong, and he knows it.

“I think you should leave,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this isn’t going to happen, John. It can’t.”

His smile falters, and for a split second, you see something raw and dangerous flash across his face. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, his expression hardening into something more familiar, more controlled.

“Alright,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over. You know that, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is watch as he steps back out onto the balcony, his cape billowing behind him like a shadow. He pauses for a moment, turning to look at you one last time.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something unspoken. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there.

You collapse onto the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. The room feels impossibly quiet without him, the weight of his presence lingering even after he’s left. You tell yourself it’s over, that he’ll leave you alone, that you can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened.

But deep down, you know better.

The following days pass in a blur. You throw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles every time you pass a reflective surface, the way you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

The flowers keep arriving, always your favorite, always without a note. And every time you see them, you’re reminded of his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then, one night, you find a letter slipped under your door. It’s written in his handwriting, neat and precise, and your hands tremble as you read it.

I’ll wait as long as it takes. You know where to find me.

You fold the letter carefully, placing it in the drawer of your desk. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you don’t care, that you’re not waiting for him to come back.

But as you sit there in the quiet of your apartment, staring at the faint glow of the city lights outside your window, you can’t help but wonder what it would mean if you did.

Would it be so wrong to want him? To give in, just once, and see what it feels like to be completely consumed by someone like him? Or would it be the beginning of the end, the moment you lose yourself to something you can never take back?

You don’t have the answers. Maybe you never will. But you can’t deny the tiny, treacherous part of you that whispers: what if? What if it was easier? What if loving him didn't have to be so hard? Would you still do it?

And somewhere out there, in the shadows of the city, he’s waiting.

© axnqel ─ all rights reserved. our work is not to be reposted, translated or plagiarized anywhere.

[allllium]

Meet Cute

~ Spencer Reid x Barista!Reader

~ I hope this makes sense to people other than me 😭

~ Fluff, first seasons Spencer WC: 979

- You have a very cute customer -

Being a barista isn't the best job in the world but it definitely has a couple benefits. One being the cute boys that stop by everyday.

Well, only one boy.

He came in a couple months ago for the first time and has come in everyday since. His name is Spencer and unfortunately that's about all you know.

He comes in very early in the morning and orders multiple very different coffees. He seems shy but you haven't talked to him enough to really know.

The strangest thing about to it, is how he only comes in when you're working. According to all your coworkers when he comes in on your days off and doesn't see you, he leaves.

You want to believe that means something. Like he's only coming here for you. But that's just wishful thinking.

"Good morning." He says when he comes to counter. It's a couple minutes earlier than when he usually arrives, not that you're keeping track.

"Good morning." You smile at him.

"Can I get the same thing as last time?" He asks, unsurely. You best guess is he's trying to see whether or not you'll remember it. Does that matter to him? He's probably just trying to save time.

"Yeah of course. It shouldn't take too long."

"Thanks." He nods slightly as he says it. And you fall into an awkward silence.

"What are you doing up so early?" You ask, hoping the question isn't too invasive. It's not something you'd ask any other customers.

"Work." Is all he says. It answers your question but you were expecting more.

"Where do you work?"

"I work for the FBI, in the behavioral analysis unit."

"Really? That's so weird, usually I forget the FBI is made up of actual people and not just robot things."

"Why would they be robots?"

"Because they work for the government?" You phrase it as a question so he doesn't think you're crazy. You probably shouldn't have said that if being crazy isn't your goal.

"Y'know the conspiracy of robots being in the government without people knowing stems for the similar conspiracy that birds are robot spies for the government."

"I could see that. People are so suspicious of the birds it would be easy to sneak robots in as humans."

"Are you joking?"

"Partly." You laugh a little. "I don't actually think the government is making robots that are functional enough to behave as humans, they aren't smart enough for that."

"I could be." He states it as a fact.

"Are you building a robot army?"

"Not at the moment." His smile at you widens as your conversation progresses. He's very, very pretty.

"But in the future you might?"

"You never know." As you go to respond, your coworker yells over that the drinks are done.

"I hope you enjoy them." You say as you hand them to him.

"They're not all for me." He says quickly, "I get them for my coworkers."

"That's a very nice thing for you to do."

"Caffeine can be a very helpful thing for certain people when it comes to work productivity."

"Do you have lots of facts like that?"

"Yes."

"Good. I like facts." He leaves with both his drinks and a smile on his face.

The next morning is the same story. He comes in, way earlier than you deem socially acceptable to be awake, orders a couple coffees, the same ones every time, and gives you a random fact or two.

"Did you know that giraffes are 30 times more likely to get hit by lightning than people are?"

"No I didn't. That makes a lot of sense though, I don't know why."

And the next day,

"The electric chair was invented by a dentist."

"Were his patients pissing him off that bad?"

"He saw someone get electrocuted and it inspired him."

"Makes sense."

And obviously the next,

"Three presidents died on July 4th."

"Similar causes?"

"Different enough."

And the next day,

He didn't come.

For the next week that you worked, Spencer didn't come in. You don't understand why this makes you so upset.

You don't even know his last name. You don't really know anything about him, why does this matter to you.

Another week passes by, and when it becomes obvious he's probably done with whatever friendship thingy you thought you had. Oh well, you try to think but it's no use.

You really thought he was coming in for you. Well not for you, for the coffee. But also a little for you.

"Did you know dolphins name each other?"

"Are you saying there's a couple dolphins named Fred?"

"There could be." He smiles at you. Is it normal to feel a little angry right now? No it's not. You don't know this man. At all. He doesn't have any obligation to only get coffee from you.

"Where have you been?" You ask, trying to be super nonchalant.

"Work got really busy."

"Too busy for coffee?" You half joke.

"Unfortunately it's too long a walk from the hospital." He shrugs like it's nothing.

"You were in the hospital? Are you okay?" What is wrong with this man? Walking in here, announcing he was in the hospital like it's nothing.

"I'm fine now."

"This is not how I saw my morning going." You mutter to yourself.

"Do you wanna get dinner with me?" You freeze.

"Like a date?" You ask gently.

"Yes, it would be a date."

"Yeah," you agree softly, "That would be great."

"Good. Okay. I'll give you the details." Five minutes later he's walking out the door again, this time leaving you completely speechless.

"Spencer!" You call out to him before he can walk outside.

"What?"

"Why are you asking me now?"

"Lifes to short to have regrets." He explains simply and walks out. He never said why he was in the hospital.

[aliwritex]

dad!franco headcanons 💐

Before the baby was born, when the furniture for the nursery started arriving he insisted on putting it together himself because he was ‘totally capable of doing so’. And you believed him, but he had a flaw, he never actually read the instructions, only quickly looked at the pictures and guessed it was enough. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. “what happened? i thought you were almost done” you were surprised to see multiple parts of the crib back on the floor “i used the wrong screw, so i was missing some long ones, so i had to got back to get them” “leave it be for tonight, yeah? i’ll help you with it tomorrow” The next morning everything went smoothly as you actually read the steps and organized the different screws and parts by numbers.

You enjoyed being pregnant more than you thought you would, because of your active lifestyle and young age pregnancy was very easy on you. And most of your days were spent on walks, pilates classes and buying. Almost every day you were doing deep research on the best products of each category and online shopping. Especially if Franco wasn’t home, it was the best way to spend time and feel less lonely. You would always call him when things arrived, showing him everything and putting it away in the nursery.

Franco cried way more than you expected when your son was born. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of being awake with you for 13 hours of labor, maybe he was just very emotional. You were in a bubble for a second when they finally handed you the baby — and it was a short second because you still had more to deliver. But as soon as you were all cleaned up, taken care of and sound asleep Franco turned his full attention to the baby. When you woke up he was humming and the baby was sleeping in his bare chest, only a blanket covering their bodies. “i love you two” you whispered to them

Nothing made Teo happier than seeing his dad come home from work. He was always all smiles when Franco walked through the door or waking up to him when he got home in the middle of the night. “hey” you whispered into the dark nursery “you didn’t need to get up, i got home just in time for his bottle” “thank you, my love, but i’ll take it from here, you go shower so we can go back to sleep” you’d be too tired by the time he was done to say anything about him sneaking Mateo in the bed with you.

Your favorite thing in the world was seeing them sleeping together. It seemed that your boyfriend had magical arms because no matter how fussy or upset Teo was, the second Franco picked him up it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes open, bonus points for chupi and blankie. That’s what you missed the most when he was away, you didn’t have the same patience if Teo was throwing a tantrum to skip his nap times or pushback bed time. You never understood what was so magical about Papa’s chest that made him fall asleep in minutes, if anything you were supposed to be more comfortable – you had two natural pillows! “¡Papa!” your son whined and ran from you when he heard the front door open. “¿que pasa, mi amor?” he picked him up and the crying stopped almost immediately but as Franco made his way in he realized the boy wasn’t the only one crying “vida? what’s wrong? what happened?” he asked but you just buried your face on his other shoulder, letting your tears soak up his shirt. “i’m sorry, ‘t’s nothing, let me take him” “what? no. what the fuck happened here?” he asked calmly “what are you even sorry for?” “not being enough for him, for you. god, i’ve been wrestling him to go to bed for so long, then you get here and boom, he’s out. i just didn’t know what to do anymore” he heard your confession and hugged you tighter, rubbing his palm on your back. “you could’ve called me. i’ll be back in a second. always call me if it gets too much” he kissed the top of your head.

When Franco was home he was in charge of putting Mateo down for his morning nap while you cooked lunch. This one monday though, he had just gotten home a couple hours before but insisted on following your routine, so he sat on the couch with his son, arm wrapped around him to support the bottle in his mouth. Franco was the one to fall asleep instead of the child, who slipped from his dads hold. When he woke up you were standing in front of him, taking a picture of his sticker covered face. “I told you I could put him down if you were too tired” you said, taking the bottle from his hand — that had spilled all over your decorative pillows. “Did he sleep?” you chuckled and pointed to the floor, where your son slept hugging his favorite stuffed animal.

[nottivagos]

Mechanic Daniel is haunting my thoughtsssss👨🏻‍🔧

Just imagine readers car is making a few funny noises coming into the shop one day and instead of asking the guys or Daniel she thinks hey I can do this myself and show everyone I’m not just a pretty face, I’ve watched Daniel enough to know what’s going on right? Wrong. After the shop is closed reader somehow makes her car even worse not noticing mechanic Danny has come back for something and is less than happy, I neeeeed to know how you think he’d react😭🙏and what he’d do to reader 😉

It's that time again! Welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Tuesday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: GUYS. ANOTHER NONNIE WANTS ME DEAD. this is not a drill. anywho, LOVED THIS IDEA. ugh angry dilfs.. 😵‍💫.. i kinda switched it up a little with reader going to ask danny first (i hope u dont mind! i'd just had this idea that she was so ditzy she literally went to a con man for a car.) but the plot after that is the same <3

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

“I told you to not buy a shit car off of ‘im,” Danny grumbled, rubbing his temples with annoyance. “But fine,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, “I’ll fix your car,” he groaned, yet his voice held some gentleness to it. “Pass ‘em over, pet,” he flashed his rough, oil-stained palm out towards you, demanding you give your car keys over.

“Really?” your eyes brightened, that glint of happiness ever so more noticeable. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you exclaimed your appreciation, passing over your car keys into his hand. He responded to your over-bubbly response with a disinterested grunt, nodding as he pocketed your keys, pulling out a cigarette before turning on his heel to take his well deserved smoke break after speaking to you.

However, Danny’s ‘I’ll fix your car’ meant that you were getting it back in his own time. Your boss never understood the concept of a timeframe, or in this instance, a deadline. You needed your car badly, and quick too. You couldn’t help but sympathise with him slightly, he was drowned in work, but that wasn’t an excuse in this instance. 

It didn’t help that he wasn’t impressed by who you’d bought your car off. Maybe he was a little biassed, a tinge of jealousy behind that motive, but that could be suppressed by the mechanic. He’d advised you not to buy something from a rival car dealership (with a notorious legacy of selling “useless pieces of crap that deserved to be in a scrapyard”, in his words) in the local area, but the offers he was providing to you were amazing! Too bad that the car had a hundred problems you couldn’t fix. Too bad that you were too much of a pretty face whilst lacking the brains to see a con artist in his element.

Maybe you were being too impatient. Daniel was a busy man, but surely he’d make some time for you? After all, you were the one sucking him off during after-work hours, surely he’d make you the exception. Unfortunately, your hopes were far from reality. Danny was living in a ‘laid-back’ mindset ever since his divorce, doing tasks when he wanted to do them. Not when they needed to be done by. His customers knew not to complain, or they’d face the wrath of an aggressive mechanic nearly throwing a wrench at their head for rushing him.

‘Death by wrench’ was something you definitely didn’t want your ultimate demise to be known as, so you sat silently, despite the irritating urge to go and ask Danny if he’d even thought of starting on your car playing in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be better if you tried to mend your car yourself. Not only would it take the stress of Danny and the guys, but also you could prove to them that you were not just the ‘pretty face in reception that only makes a good fuck for Dan’.

So guess what you stupidly decided to do, a rush of confidence influencing your brash decision. Fix your car! You waited (rather impatiently) for Danny and the guys to go on their lunch and a shared smoke break, knowing they’d take 2 hours instead of the actual designated 30 minutes, to try and mend your poor machine. It had only been making a few weird noises… Easy fix. Right?

Wrong! Despite ogling over Danny whilst he fixed cars, believing all of that daydreaming about him whilst watching would come to good use, you soon discovered that you were not a car mechanic. And instead… useless. Well, useless wasn’t the nicest term to use. If you had maybe asked one of the guys or Danny himself for some advice, the car’s ‘wheezing and sputtering’ problem would’ve been an easy fix. But instead, giving you a wrench and a power to ‘fix’ your car ultimately made its problem worse.

The minutes turned into hours, and somehow it was already the end of the working day. The garage was silent, apart from your annoyed huffs and puffs as you continued to try and mend what you’d already broken even more.

Pouting, you wiped your sweaty forehead, not acknowledging the unamused grunts from behind you. Whilst you’d been sucked into your own world of mending your car, Danny had been watching you, agitated of course, silently whilst he rested against the countertop.

“What a shit job you've done.” A husky, unamused voice bellowed from behind you. “For a girl who ogles over me all day whilst I work, I’d suspect you could do better than.. whatever this is.”

Eyes widened as your breathing hitched. Fuck, he did not sound happy, or amused at what you’d done. Turning on your heel, you faced him with a nervous smile. “B-Boss!” you exclaimed as a blurt, “I was just trying to fix it on my own!”

“Thought I’d told you to wait,” he said, giving you a knowing look. He was resting against the worktop, burly arms crossed against his broad chest. “And instead of waitin’ like a good girl, your car is now even more fucked.”

“B-but—!”

“But nothing,” he grunted with distaste, pushing himself off of the counter towards you. In a swift movement, he had your front pushed onto the bonnet of the car, ass high up in the sky as you let out a small yelp.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” he sighed, as if he was scolding a child, large palms gripping your hips as you rested your chest against the bonnet of the car. “Always so impatient,” he murmured, fingertips trailing down to your clothed ass which was becoming more visible as your dress rode up your curves, “always so needy. Fuck, you really know how to piss me off, petal.”

Large hands came to brush your skirt up your body, revealing your clothed bottom to Danny more clearly. He hummed with satisfaction as calloused fingers hooked underneath your panties, the cool air hitting your slick pussy almost immediately as he ripped them down your legs.

“Can’t even have a smoke without you goin’ against what I’ve told you to do,” he added, swatting your ass with force. The slap made you yelp, tears foolishly forming in your eyes as your hips jerked forward upon impact.

“That—” another whack to your throbbing flesh, “—was for being impatient—,” he grunted upon another harsh impact, his hand now leaving a red mark against your asscheek, sobs now escaping your lips. “And this—” the clap echoed around the quiet workshop as you whined, “—is for making an easy fix even worse for me to do.”

A foolish whimper followed. A strangled sob as you felt your pussy become slightly wetter. Daniel brought his face down to your ear, his ragged breaths rattling your eardrums ever so slightly.

“Tell me you’re sorry and I’ll stop,” he whispered huskily into your ear, hot breath burning the shell of your ear as you bit your bottom lip, mascara smudged by the tears you’d shed. His hand ghosted over your throbbing curves, the distance teasing you as your body was tricked into thinking he would smack it again.

“I-I’m sorry, Danny!” you blurted loudly, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks like a little girl. “I won’t try and fix a car on my own again, I-I- promise!” you squeaked helplessly.

“Good girl,” Danny hummed, moving away from you to the workbench to pick up his toolbox whilst you rearranged your clothes. 

When you’d finished, he looked at you with a soft smile, despite the irritation that he’d have to stay even later to fix your problems. His doe brown eyes looked sweeter than they usually did, as he leaned in for a little kiss. The kiss was ever so soft, as if it was a ‘sorry’ for spanking you so hard, but he let his lips linger on your burning cheek for a while after.

“You should probably get off,” he said, his voice gentle as he looked at you. “It’s late, I’d hate to keep you here any longer,” Danny added with a soft glance, before rummaging through the box for the tools he needed.

You were about to head to the exit before Danny’s head sprung back around, as he reached out for your arm.

“Oh, and one other thing,” he called out, wrapping your hand around your wrist for a moment. “Next time you want me to do somethin’, just ask. Hell, nag me until I don't want you to nag me anymore," he chuckled with a shake of his head, “I’m more than willing to do it for you if you need it done as soon as possible, princess.”

like divorced mechanic!danny? consider sending me an ask so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3

[sol-rambles]

I think Zam is so much more invested in Atlas than Derap is. Mainly as well I know derap has done things for Zam, he has also hidden and lied (or plans to) about most important things he finds.

First example that I can think of is Pangi at Zaun. Derap showed Pangi to Zaun. That is a thing he did, which him and Zam had previously Agreed Not to. Like he fully went against Zam's wishes and took Pangi there. Then they both proceeded to tell Zam that Pangi found it (if I recall correctly..)

Another time, which whilst he hasn't had a chance to tell Zam. The prot4 glitch. He has stated multiple times that he is Not going to. Aswell as telling 4C to not tell Zam. He is making sure Zam one doesn't know about the glitch. If he does, he finds out on his own either indirectly from Derap or 4C, or he finds it by himself and doesn't realise that Derap has been hiding it from him/he finds that part out later.

4C alliance, due to the nature of it. I'm almost certain Derap will not tell Zam about this. It is an alliance formed through the prot4 glitch, therefore it is highly unlikely he'd tell him.

Base I guess? This was explicitly Zam's choice though :3.

Either way I'm certain there's more of these, I'm explicitly not a Derap viewer his chat pisses me off too much to even open stream. So everything is picked up through liveblogs or other streams.

He is building up a list of reasons for Zam to not trust him. Like if you can't be trusted to atleast Tell your teammate, who by the way let you have 10 of his hearts (I know this is a big deal for Derap) atleast that your using it, even if he might not like it. Then what happens if he finds something bigger or more destructive to the server. I for one know what he's not doing. Telling his Teammate.

Also running around collecting teammates, I know that he isn't the only one that is doing this, but this is mainly about Atlas soooo I'm focusing on that here. Like you have a team, it's your fault he's locked away editing. Literally. Stick with your teammate, be loyal to someone. Like I know technically Devotions are on a separate team by themselves but that was a last resort(ish).

The list of people that Derap considers either allies or teammates; Zam, Jaron?????, Wemmbu, Pangi, theres someone else I think too idk man.

Also trying to listen in on Zam and Mapic during their like Very personal conversation.... Holy fucking shit. Like what the fuck man. Leave your Teammate that you've been building a whole area with have a conversation with his guy in peace. Another thing Zam can't trust Derap about, having a conversation without eavesdropping (I know Rek and 4C do this this the whole Tunnel Rats thing but they aren't Zam's Teammate.)

Like me personally, in my opinion you cannot work this hard to be someone's teammate if you're just going to lie, hide things (also lying) and not trust them enough to have a conversation without leaving them alone. Like you shouldn't need to be caught spying to leave your teammate alone with the guy you Know he is devoted to despite everything.

On another note, Zam literally told Derap about the Bugbombs. The only thing of importance he doesn't tell Derap is his base, which literally only Mapic knows about 'cause he's a little stalker guy.

[curlysfist]

Cantata

Synopsis: Under the artificial light of the lounge's extended screens, you and Jimmy talk about everything and nothing. (TW: mentions of war and not super descriptive retellings of what that entails. Idk. Minor friendly once more. Unedited.)

Word count: 0.6k

Notes: I feel meh about this. Jus a lil idea I've been toying with and wanted to idle away at while I work on a devious, gut wrenching curly fic 🤭

“Thank you for your service.” Extended to you was a cigarette. A safety hazard on the Tulpar.

You accepted it, waiting as the cigarette was soon lit. “Daisuke promised to keep his mouth shut.”

Jimmy sat beside you on the couch. The others were sleeping, though considering he was here, it was likely Curly’s turn for the night to man the ship. He snorted, his voice maintaining that lazy timbre. “I overheard him telling Swansea. Though, I can't help but wonder why a hotshot like you is working the Express. Can't imagine working security pays any more than the rest of us.”

“It really doesn't.” Taking a puff, your back melts into the couch. You'd been on your feet for every system hour. The pocket of space the Tulpar was currently navigating in was often fettered with intergalactic pirates, or life forms with dubious intent. That meant you couldn't afford much sleep, if at all. Shitty in-ship coffee, slower blinks, and the occasional restroom break was the most you can afford to take.

The exhaustion made your head feel strange.

“Can I ask about your service, or are you gonna have some sorta PTSD episode?”

“I don't really care.”

Jimmy smirks, taking his time to light his own cigarette. "Well, I’m curious. What’s it like being the face of humanity's most violent year? Bet that was a real ego boost."

You exhaled a plume of smoke, the burn in your lungs grounding you in a way nothing else did these days. "I wasn’t the face of anything. Just someone who happened to live long enough to see how far it got."

"Modest." He scoffed, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression. A faint, fleeting recognition. Maybe respect. Maybe something darker. "But you didn’t answer the question."

“I didn’t feel much. Back then." You paused, staring at the faint glow of your cigarette’s ember. It felt precious. One of the few things that wasn't code, pixels, or a mechanism in the ship. "So I guess I looked for reasons to feel something. Spark something inside me.” You smile wryly. Several memories flutter in your mind's eye, all of them hot to the touch. “A lot of people died because of that. But it got the job done. Who cares, when names become data to tally into a chart.”

“Damn.” Jimmy tilted his head, exhaling smoke through his nose. "So you weren’t the hero they made you out to be."

"No. I wasn’t." Your voice was steady, detached. Exhaustion had eroded any shame you might have felt. Or maybe that shame had died, alongside many other muted concepts that hung to your lungs. "What about you? You're not exactly bright and peachy. Your eyes are cold, you know.”

Jimmy gave a dry laugh, leaning back and draping an arm over the couch. "That's a romantic way to put it. But my shit is boring. Standard spiral. Got into stuff I shouldn’t have. Burned a lot of bridges. Stared at the ceiling a lot."

There was a long pause as he took a drag, the soft hiss of the ship’s ventilation system the only sound. "Then I ended up here. I want to make it worthwhile. It's routine, you know? And no one is here to stare."

"Yeah," you murmured, staring into the dim glow of the ship's console across the room. "No one’s looking out here."

The shared silence wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. Two people sitting in the wreckage of their lives, neither offering to clean it up. Maybe that was why it felt easy to be honest. Neither of you expected anything from the other.

Jimmy broke the quiet first, tapping ash onto the floor. "So, you ever feel anything now? Or was the slaughter pointless?”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. "Depends. You?"

He shrugged, the lazy smirk returning to his lips. "I feel hungover most days. That count?"

"Not really." You flicked the cigarette, watching the ash crumble into oblivion. "But it’s a start."

[ephie-om]

A Gentle Wrath (Part 2)

Part 1

Satan’s hand rests comfortably in yours as you walk slowly down the sidewalk. The late-night air has a slight chill to it, but he made sure to check the weather before walking you home and brought an extra jacket for you just in case. It was lucky enough that you were able to find a job safe for you in the Devildom; he wasn’t about to take any chances that you could get sick or hurt on the way back to the house. His thumb strokes your hand idly as you walk and he matches your pace effortlessly.

You talk about your day aimlessly, wandering from topic to topic and he listens happily. Truth be told, this is his favorite part of the day, finally reuniting with you at the end of it all. The conversation includes anything and everything that comes to mind. Your classes at RAD, the book he read today at lunch, how you need to get new work shoes, plans to sneak a taste of Lucifer’s newest demonus variety. 

He always prefers to listen more than talk during these walks. Back at home, you’re a little too indulgent of his brothers’ whims to walk all over you in a conversation. This is the only time guaranteed to him to hear your voice in the quiet. Every time you trip over your words or laugh at your own joke is another tally in his journal of reasons to love you. 

The front gates of the House of Lamentation come into view all too soon for his liking, but you heave a relieved sigh. “Your feet hurt?” he guesses. You nod and push open the door. The warm air hits both of you like a wall, and he can hear your stomach rumble as you catch the smell of meat from the kitchen. “How long for dinner?” he calls out. Levi’s voice answers him, echoing through the foyer. “Maybe thirty more minutes, if I don’t burn the damn noodles again.”

You chuckle and Satan looks over at you, mirroring your smile easily. “You have time for a quick shower, if you’d like.” 

“Definitely,” you answer quickly. “But he’d better have that done by the time I get back down here, or I might turn into Beel.” He laughs and watches you head upstairs, deciding he had better stay and make sure dinner gets done on time. 

You and Satan find yourselves sprawled across his couch with full stomachs and eyes fluttering shut. He’s propped himself up against the arm of the couch to hold you. The feeling of your head resting on his chest with his arms around you is second to none. He lets his eyes close, reveling in the moment, when you break the silence. 

“Satan?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the first time we ever did this?”

He laughs, his torso making your head shake. “Of course I remember. You fell asleep on me during the movie that you picked out and then apologized about a hundred times when you woke up.”

You smile into his chest. “I felt so bad. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep, but that was before I knew how comfortable you were.”

He grins. “Honestly, I was just happy you trusted me enough to sleep.”

You raise your head to look up at him, confused. “Why would I not trust you enough?”

“Well…” he trails off. “I didn’t know if you could. Not after everything I did.” He glances down to see you still frowning. “I mean, I threatened you into making a pact with me, spent most of my free time pissing you off, tried to kill you multiple times, then tried to play nice with you. I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to trust me.”

You huff in annoyance. “None of you liked me when I got here, remember? A lot’s changed since then.” He opens his mouth to agree with you before you cut him off. “Wait a minute. Is that why I saw that stack of books in your room about humans the night I fell asleep on you? You were trying to figure out how to get me to trust you?” Satan can feel the blush rise to his cheeks.

“You could say that,” he mutters.

“Well, what would you say?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the words. “I would say that every time you picked me up off the ground when I fell, every time you tended to my wounds before whatever I broke in my rage, every time you tried to cheer me up, there was this… tenderness behind it. It broke me more than being angry. Being angry is something I’m used to; it’s woven into my being. But being cared for is still new to me. And I was so scared that despite everything you did for me, I would never be able to give you the same care. My research on humans yielded almost nothing, which certainly didn’t help. But somehow you still fell in love with me. And more importantly, you let me love you.” He feels his throat tightening as he speaks, and he presses a kiss to your forehead to stifle his emotions. “I know I’m not the most experienced lover or the most romantic, but you’re still here, so I think I must be doing something right,” he says softly, almost to himself more than you. 

You brush your fingers idly over his arm. “I don’t know how I could ever not trust you. You think this isn’t gentle?” He bites the inside of his cheek. You were right. Of course you were. It was so gentle, so caring, the way you relaxed into his body and the way his arms rested on you. “I trust you,” you murmur. “I wish you knew how much I do. And I don’t ever want to hear you say you don’t deserve to be cared for, alright?”

He mutters a quiet “okay” into the top of your head, and you pretend not to feel his chest heave. His fingers run up and down your back, proving to himself again and again that you were here and you weren’t going to leave. 

You fall asleep in his arms again that night. And for the first time, he falls asleep too.

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[curiositydoorunlocked]

That post I made about S4 pushing Will’s sadness was one made in jest. It was just a little joke post. I clicked the “post” button, closed the tab in my browser, and moved on with my very serious life. No more jokes for me.

But then something happened; permit me tell you a little story entitled “I spent too much time on YouTube, send help.”

…okay, now I’m done with the jokes 😅

In all seriousness, though: I’ve been watching a lot of ST reactions on YouTube lately and they’ve only served to show me just how effective that “WILL IS SAD! WILL IS SAD!” strategy was.

For real! Of course I haven’t seen all the S4 reaction videos out there, but I’ve watched far too many to reach my weekly screen-time goal, ugh plenty, and the trends were pretty damning. Every single creator I saw said “poor Will!” at least once during their watch. More often than not it was multiple times, actually. They were all rooting for him, feeling for him; they all saw his sadness, put the pieces together re: why he was sad (relatively) quickly, and went “No! Stop! I don’t like that Will is sad!”

This attitude was generally present across the whole season’s worth of reactions, but there are still some interesting takeaways re: what people responded to most that I’d like to share with you all.

First off the cartop talk in the desert seemed to resonate across the board. It wasn’t always included in videos, probably because it was a quieter scene sandwiched in between the gang literally burying a body, but when it was included it usually got a big response. Lots of nods and empathetic comments made at “…because what if…what if they don’t like the truth?” The van scene also hit hard for everyone, and I mean everyone. My personal favorite was this one dude that teared up and said something along the lines of “We’re only ten minutes into this episode, chill out!” while wiping his eyes!

Most of the reactors had a much stronger response to the Mike and Will scenes—and the associated Will sadness moments, of course—than they did the Mike and El scenes. Those elicited more frustration than anything—plenty of “God, why can’t you just say it, Mike??”s. One woman even gasped when Mike threw away the “From, El” note.

People smiled at the few cute moments El and Mike had; they empathized with El’s insecurities; they sighed at Mike’s hamfisted maneuvering.

What they didn’t do? Seem, well… invested. In the relationship. At all.

Even the cooing over Mike and El’s (very sweet) reunion was frequently overshadowed by joy at El and Will’s fraternal hug.

(It’s almost like putting something last telegraphs to the audience that it’s the most important…crazy how that works!)

But to wrap things up before this post gets too long…

I know “the talented creators of this historically well-written show decided to take the story in a particular direction and executed it such that it achieved the desired response from viewers” isn’t exactly a shocking revelation. Even still, it was nice to see, especially considering the following:

Most of these reactors were confident Will’s feelings wouldn’t be returned. The opinions were never phrased cruelly; they were always more along the lines of “it’s so sad that Will is in this situation, poor guy. I wish he could be happy but it doesn’t seem possible.”

In an odd roundabout way, those nervous, “where is this going to go?” vibes are omnipresent on Byler Tumblr too. (Or at least that’s the sense I’ve been getting since I returned from my hiatus—apologies if I’ve terribly mischaracterized you all!) I get that a lot of people are worried about the potential execution of a Mike/Will relationship, especially because the characters involved are so intertwined with the supernatural plot. We may see the writing on the wall re: the destination, but that doesn’t mean we know exactly what the journey will look like.

But guess what? These writers know how to disengage the audience from a couple that isn’t working, and engage it in a dynamic that is. They know how to stir up empathy for characters in different contexts. They know how to bring new information—in this case, Will’s feelings—to light and get people on board ASAP. These reaction videos are very encouraging proof of that—and in case it needs repeating, I watched so many of them, so I should know. (Why? God only knows.)

If these reactors were presented with a solution to this “problem” that would allow Will to get what he wanted without hurting anyone else… well, I’m confident they would jump right on board. And so would we, of course.

So, all of that is to say I encourage you to set the nitty gritty of it all aside every now and then. As a bunch of Youtubers have kindly demonstrated for us: everything’s going to be just fine 🙂

(And if you read this long for what was essentially just a positivity post, I commend you LOL. Thanks for sticking it out with me!)