#you tell me its a tool but to me its worse

[joe-willow]

Why are people even writting with ai this is, this is like one of the most stupid thing ever. first of all, this isn't writting at all, this is just lazyness, and moreover disrespect to the art, whether We're writting à fanfiction or à book.

My philosophy teacher made me realize à lot of things about books/writting in general. My second thing is that writting is a Journey, yeah, even if you're writting some bl, romance or whatever, you will put your LIFE into that shit because it UOUR story it comes from your mind and you want it to be real to ksjmsbmsvl come to life to express yourself your idea you you your thing hour vision idk, and even if in the end you hate what you made you put in this increible efforts to make your textile sense and who knows, maybe someone will like it, or not, whatever, you made it you went through it. You did it you're done it you should be proud so I agree, people using ai to writte thing are WEAK. And for writting fanfics ?????? This is even worse. Yall using ai for this don't even know what are fanfics that's crazy

And lastly, unpopular opinion apparently, considering my classmates opinion on using ai, using ai for homework is STUPID. Like why would you do this. I understand that you can hate working for school/teachers and homework but like. Why. This is stupid. Just use your mind, you can come up with insane things yk. Just take some time I swear

And yeah some of you will tell me "oh but I had no time" YEAH FR ME TOO how many times do you think i gave homworks late ? Or not a all ? A LIT OF TIMES. yall need to assume that you didn't do your work and if you didn't have the tume, like, its ok ?????? I mean bro No need to use ai try something even if you only have one 1h left for an essay ig that giving your teacher something made by YOU even if It's hella rushes is better than using ai that will write the most boring shit ever + no sources + you just dont want to think + like oh my god yeah thinking is gonna hurt you + being able to think is literally what defines a human being

anyway, all this to say that ai SUCKS and isn't. And will never. Be a tool. Or a from of art. My ART TEACHER told me one day that I should try to use ai for my works as a tool. Do you understand to what we've cone to. What the hell is wrong with her. Does she consider art as something commercial or that must be done ? Art is you. It's none of the others business. ART IS YOU and I do not mean that you are art. And I don't think we can consider everything we create as art. You're not art. It's you will of creating something that expresses you, in any kind of way possible of what this could mean that will define your creations as art. Art is expressing. ai comes up with the most fifting things for your words, that's all. Ai can't do art. What it does is not art it's not a tool it's pure shit

If I went further, I'd say that no one is an artist (yeah even the people we consider as artists) and that at the same time evryone could possibly be an artist. Artist is not a job its not supposed to bring you money I'm losing my words and I'm really going off topic i already was off topic so much oh my god. Also random thought but art has no tools

Im maybe exaggerating a little bit. But ai sucks anyway. That's all.

no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak

[nootcatt]

Most readers can’t distinguish classic works by poets such as William Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson from imitations generated by artificial intelligence. And when asked which they prefer, they often chose the AI poetry.

Article here

[arachnerd-8-legs]

im getting real sick of 'intelligence'

who decided reading books and writing counted as intelligence? who decided that getting high scores on a strict, unfeeling system meant you were better than everybody? who decided that people should be turned into numbers, tie their worth in society into numbers, to compare people on a scale that ultimately does not matter, so that the people who didn't dump everything to perform for it are berated and the people who did end up with nothing?

who decided not reading or writing was a lack of intelligence? who decided that living differently to them was a sign of lower 'societal worth' than those who conformed?

[infizero]

came to the startling realization just now that there are people who actually think light was totally fine and all his evilness came from the death note. ermmm. loud incorrect buzzer

[liesmyth]

to be clear: threatening to withhold your vote on condition of a candidate adopting a certain policy is a fundamental tenet of democracy. it's effectively one of the very few tools available to regular citizens to get an elected official to listen. you don't have to actually go through with it, but you sure as hell have to MAKE NOISE about how you definitely totally will so that you actually get taken seriously. begrudgingly agreeing to vote for the least shit option is something you do the week of the election, if it comes to that. you don't SETTLE until it's too late. you don't shut up criticism months in advance by acting like every (extremely valid) objection is a psyop.

I'm not very keen on patronising tumblr users who express moral qualms about genocide by acting like they don't know what's good for them, especially on a website made up disproportionately of disenfranchised voters who all have a lot to lose in case of a far-right administration. if you're that invested, you're better off using that time and energy volunteering for someone's campaign, given the projected sizeable percentage of non-voters outside of tumblr dot com. peace and love on planet earth.

speaking my truth. the us elections discourse on this website makes it painfully clear that some people people don't understand how democracy works

[patricia-taxxon]

So wait, let me just ask for clarity because I want to understand. Do you support AI art?

i support art made with spontaneous and hands-off processes, i support the creation of art tools that are more art than tool & allow people to "participate" in someone else's creation vicariously a-la picrew, i don't support the institution of "AI" as a consumer grade technology industry that promises impossible things and prioritizes appearances and marketability over usability, i believe that if "AI" allowed people to siphon images directly from their brain with no effort required then it would be a good thing but I believe this is fundamentally impossible until we figure out how to read minds and the focus on arguing for or against accessibility is missing the point, i believe AI art can only ever be a pale imitation of the process of commissioning an artist who can't ever ask questions and cannot be trusted with object permanence, I believe copyright law is a head on the hydra of capitalism and doesn't serve artists, i believe that AI art isn't necessarily art theft but it CAN overfit to its data and create illegal works without telling you, which constitutes criminal levels of negligence, I believe all art is derivative in some way and some of the most seminal art made in this era of history has been far more dubiously infringing than AI art ever can be because AI art does not steal in the way a human does, I think the focus on energy consumption is transparently just a post-hoc justification for hating the thing you all already hated under the guise of environmentalism because it is a problem far from unique to AI, I think the focus on environmentalism was a distraction at best during the NFT craze too, i don't think AI art takes artists out of a job any more than stock photos or clipart does, but the proliferation of consumer-grade tools DOES run the risk of engendering bad client practices similar to the rise of machine translation and asking translators to simply "fix" a machine translated run of text at a marked down price, but this is not the fault of the technology itself and is instead a result of the ideological push being made by the biggest actors in the industry, i think AI art is ugly as sin and carries the pervasive quality of looking normal at a glance but getting worse and worse the longer you look at it, which can be interesting but often isn't, i think ai art is shit google images and the controversy is overblown but I think machine learning is here to stay and it will inevitably decentralize again after the immense costs catch up to all the corpos relying on it to win the future.

so like, yes and no.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Humans are Made to be Pets

"I don't fucking believe you." I laughed in response. I mean, how could I not? I've been perfectly fine as an independent for years. I've made plenty of friends (independents, affini, AND florets), but my favorite friend was definitely Her.

Jaz was an oldbloom of some kind. She refused to tell me the actual number, and I wasn't going to press it. But you bet your ass I was going to outright deny it when she says some Bloomer-ass bullshit like, "Humans are made to be pets, Petal~"

She tilted her head, as if surprised. "Did no one tell you, dear?" I frowned.

"What do you mean exactly?"

Jaz hid a chuckle behind some vines. "Flower, I've been around for a while. I've seen thousands of species. Some of them were almost extinct by the time we found them, and some were far more technologically advanced than the Accord ever was. But out of all of them -all of them, darling- I have yet to find a sophont who wouldn't make a perfect silly pet. Why do you think terrans would be any different?"

I sputtered. "No! No, that's ridiculous. Beeple I can understand, to some extent. They evolved alongside you, and your reproduction at least used to co-exist. You both needed each other. Humans are different."

"Oh, in some ways perhaps! Its true that we were able to work with beeple, but there are a few things that, in order for humans to have gotten where they were, were required to happen." She held up three fingers.

"One. Humanity are social creatures. I'm quite sure I don't need to argue this point. Its been an observation many have noticed. But it still matters that, despite your culture's best attempts to sequester everyone into individual homes and away from communities…you all crave that interaction, that exchange. You Look for it." One finger went down.

"Two. Humanity are intelligent creatures. They learned so much, and fought for their place on the top of the food chain. It was truly incredible to learn your histories! Being able to learn from another's mistakes? An important skill to have, and one that allows for rapid growth of a civilization. And also allows for you to be manipulated, controlled, really; a rock cannot hear my arguments, after all. You Listen all too well. " Two fingers were closed, now. Her thumb remained.

"Three. Humanity are hierarchical creatures. Ever since that whole 'survival of the fittest', terrans seem intent on having everything ranked, everything in relation to the things better or worse than it. It's what worked on Terra, and I don't judge you all for using the tools given to you! But it means, at the end of the day…that culturally speaking? Humanity was going to see itself as either above the Compact, or below it, part of it, inside it." She smiled. "And I think it would be fair to say that the Accord winning was not a valid concern. So when something bigger and stronger comes along? You learn to Accept it."

I was frozen. I didn't…I couldn't…I couldn't think. I was a bubbling mixture of terrified and in awe, looking up at her. My knees wobbled as she gently cupped my cheek, sliding her hand down to my chin.

"Sweet thing~ Its alright. I know that this is a lot to learn, that it sounds scary to you. Perhaps you felt yourself on equal terms to an affini. And in many ways, you are right~ I will always treat you with love and respect, just as I would treat any sophont, any floret. But at the end of the day, my dear…" Her eyes drew me in. There were so many of them, all looking at me. Pinning me underneath their careful stare, somehow both alien and familiar, gentle yet controlling, above me and beside me. Watching as I looked, as I listened, as I accepted.

"An affini's task is to care for pets, and your task is to be cared for~"

[vettelsvee]

YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE | Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian Vettel x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb's wife is pregnant, but she hasn't told him yet since she doesn't seem ready. However, after he almost crashed pretty badly during a Free Practice session, she can't help but tell him in not the best way possible ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Okay but can you imagine Sebs wife being pregnant but she has not told him yet. He does some dangerous and bold move on a drive and she gets mad and scared and just some fluff when he finds out :)

WORD COUNT: 1804

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of anxiety, overthinking about Formula 1 crashes (?), pregnancy, Ferrari Seb in general (if you know, you know)

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @herdetectivetheorist @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Hi guys! Finally back to posting fics! This year I don't only want to write more, but also establish some kind of writing routine because I've been dealing with anxiety over Christmas for some personal problems family related and found out that I missed distressing with writing. Also, thank you so much for all the support you've been showing me lately! Appreciate it a lot since I wasn't feeling very comfortable with my writing. Let me know your thoughts on this one <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Despite being quite far from the pit lane, you could hear nothing but the deafening roar of the engines, the clatter of tools on Kimi's car, and the curses of the race engineers at the constant stunts Seb had decided to pull during the free practice session.  

Your husband's red car seemed not just to race but to fly around the track. FP2 had started barely twenty minutes ago, but Seb had already come within inches of crashing into the walls far too many times after going off track more often than you could count.  

You couldn't deny that you had loved watching Seb race ever since you met and you learned he was a driver in one of the most dangerous sports in the world. Today, however, luck was not on your side, and anxiety was consuming you. The nausea, uncontrollable on its own, felt even worse than usual. Not to mention, you felt on the verge of a panic attack.  

"Are you okay?"  

You turned at the sound of Riccardo Adami’s voice, Seb’s race engineer. The Italian removed one side of his headset and covered the microphone to ensure the driver wouldn’t hear anything.  

"Yes, yes, of course," you replied hastily, forcing a smile and suppressing the urge to gag as you felt it rising in your throat. "I’m just a bit more nervous than usual today, that’s all."  

"Seb knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about that."  

You nodded, but as soon as Adami turned his attention back to his screen, you rolled your eyes and did the same.  

"You know, sometimes he thinks that he’s a cat and has seven lives," you muttered under your breath. "Someone should remind him he’s in an actual Formula 1 car, not in a simulator."  

"Don’t worry, I’ll remind him in the post-session briefing," the engineer joked, flashing a smile before immersing himself back into Vettel's driving.  

You didn’t pay him much attention. Once again, you were entirely engrossed in both your husband’s onboard camera and the telemetry, even though you didn’t understand much aside from the fact that he was setting purple sectors, which was undoubtedly a good sign.  

You didn’t know much about the inner workings of the cars, but after so many years with Seb, you knew that the faster his times were, the higher the risks became.  

You were also acutely aware that your husband was pushing himself too hard in those moments.  

You began to tremble slightly, fidgeting with your hands in an attempt to calm your anxiety, but it didn’t work. Instinctively, and trying not to draw much attention, you placed your hands on your belly and prayed that your child wouldn’t give you any scares like his father was giving you.  

"Sector two in purple as well, Seb!"  

Even though the garage erupted into cheers and applause, you remained motionless. Instead, you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, which now showed your husband’s car in full view.  

Your panic peaked the moment Seb lost control of the rear of his car and went off the track. You swore that if it hadn’t been for the sudden braking, he would have ended up in the barriers with a wrecked car and himself heading to the medical center because the crash would have likely exceeded the G-force limits.  

When Seb didn’t respond immediately, your heart stopped.  

"I’m fine, I’m fine..." Seb finally said in a disappointed tone. "But I can’t say the same for the car. I think it’s more damaged than it looks."  

"Can you bring it back, Sebastian?" Riccardo asked in a tone that was a mix of irritation and disappointment.  

"Yeah, no problem. Coming back. Sorry, guys."  

Just as no one on the team said anything to you, you, who had forced yourself to sit down because your legs were trembling too much and you felt dizzy, also remained silent until your husband returned and got out of the car.  

Seb removed his helmet, revealing an expression that was hard to decipher. You stood up carefully and approached him, trying to keep your composure. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you grabbed his hand and led him toward his driver room, ignoring Britta's protests to talk after interviews were done.  

"It could have been worse, right?" 

Sebastian closed the door behind him and turned to face you. You stood there with your arms crossed, visibly upset. Your glare alone was enough to tell Seb he was seconds away from one of your infamous scoldings.  

The problem? He had no idea why. You had never acted so strangely over something as common as a collision during a race weekend.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you exploded, your voice filled with frustration. “Fuck, Seb, can you explain what that was all about?!”  

“What do you mean, what was that? I was... racing, like I always do, babe,” he replied cautiously, still clueless about what he'd done wrong.  

You, however, didn’t know what was bothering you more: your husband’s calm demeanor or the sight of a few Ferrari team members peeking through the window to catch the drama unfolding between the two of you.  

“You were so close to slamming into a wall, Sebastian, that’s what happened!” you shot back, yanking the curtains shut and flipping off the nosy onlookers. “Are you out of your mind or what?!”  

“Come on, love, I had it under control. What you saw on the onboard might’ve looked bad, but I swear it wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed.”  

“Not as bad as it seemed? Are you seriously telling me that?” you retorted, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think driving is just like playing a video game now? Do you have any idea what it would’ve meant if you hadn’t reacted in time? Do you know what it would’ve meant for me and for—”  

You stopped yourself mid-sentence, refusing to continue.  

You knew your emotions were running wild because of your pregnancy hormones, but you forced yourself to calm down. Getting so worked up would only lead to a pointless argument with Seb and wasn’t good for you or the baby.  

“For who, Y/N?” Seb asked, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his.  

“For... me! Who else?” you replied quickly. 

Sebastian didn’t know how to respond. He’d never seen you so distressed about his racing, and while he tried to stay calm, inside he was battling a storm of worry and confusion.  

“This stress isn’t good for me or for the situation you and, well... you’ve gotten me into,” you said, your voice cracking.  

“Y/N, babe, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck, I’m pretty worried about you right now with all this shit, but if you don’t tell me what’s going on—”  

“Damn it, Seb! I’m pregnant!”  

You looked down, tears streaming down your face. You clenched your fists tightly, furious at yourself for revealing such big news in such an emotional, unplanned way.  

Sebastian, meanwhile, stood frozen, his eyes wide in shock at the unexpected news. Slowly, everything started to make sense: your morning sickness, falling asleep all the time, constantly complaining about being tired, and the flimsy excuses you gave for not drinking wine, something you normally loved.  

He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner and for believing your weak justifications about bad leftovers being the cause of everything.  

“You’re... pregnant?” His voice was barely audible, almost afraid to say the words out loud because they didn’t feel real.  

You wiped your tears and sniffled, doing your best to meet your husband’s gaze without feeling ashamed.  

“Yes...” you said timidly. “I wanted to tell you in a special way... you know, by giving you a baby onesie in a box with the positive pregnancy test inside, but...” You shook your head and finally looked him in the eyes. “I thought you were going to die out there today and leave your child and me alone. The thought of losing you, now of all times, just...”  

“You’re really pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”  

You nodded, and Seb couldn’t hold back his tears. He pulled you into a tight embrace and began kissing you tenderly. You melted into his arms, feeling an immense weight lifted from your shoulders.  

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you admitted. “I swear I wanted it to be special, but seeing you out there today, thinking something could happen to you...” Your voice broke again. “I was terrified, Seb, like never before watching you race.”  

“I’m so sorry, love. I really am,” he said sincerely, cupping your cheeks gently and kissing you over and over. “If I’d known, I would’ve been more careful. God, love, this is incredible... This is the best news I’ve ever received.”  

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you sooner? You should’ve seen your face earlier...”  

“Mad? That you didn’t tell me sooner?” You shrugged, your insecurity showing despite your years together. Seb tilted his head, understanding this was one of your rare but extreme moments of doubt. “I’m just... in shock. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents...”  

Sebastian hesitantly touched your stomach, and you burst into fresh tears at the tenderness of his gesture.  

“Now you have to promise me something, Seb,” you said, playing with his hair as he knelt before you, leaving kisses on your belly.  

“Anything for you and our little one.”  

“You need to be more careful from now on. Stop thinking so much with your adrenaline and testosterone, and start using your brain more,” you said, trying not to sound too harsh. “I know Formula 1 and racing is your whole life, but I don’t want you risking it when we’re bringing a new one into the world. I’m eight weeks along, and we still have 32 to go assuming everything follows the perfect pregnancy script.”  

Seb stood and gazed at you, trying to convey the calm you both could only find in each other.  

“Love, I promise,” he whispered softly. “For you, for the baby... I love winning, but today, and even more so when our child is born, I’ll have won the second most important race of my life.”  

You frowned, confused.  

“If that’s the second, what’s the most important race of your life then?”  

He chuckled and scooped you into his arms, kissing you again as he laid you both on the couch behind you.  

“The race I ran for so many years to win your heart,” he murmured between slow, deliberate kisses that said more than words ever could. “After all those years trying to get you to go out with me in high school, and now we’re eight months away from having a baby... what else could it be, mama?”  

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence

Justice League x reader

warnings:

a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”

you and alfred got along well

“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred

“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically

you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit

“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you

“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred

“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms

“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you

“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred

“really?!” -barry

“no” -you and alfred

you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members

“it’s acceptable” -bruce

“wow, thanks” -you

“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce

diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational

“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana

barry nerds out with you sometimes

he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer

and tries to be helpful

“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry

“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you

“harsh!” -barry

“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you

arthur wanted cooler clothes

“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur

“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you

“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur

clark didn’t really need/want much

but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits

“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you

“yeah, stand back” -clark

it held for a good 20 seconds

“better than i thought” -you

you were their eyes in the sky on missions

directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it

and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it

but occasionally you did ask him for tech support

“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you

“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic

“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you

“what’s the password?” -vic

*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you

diana let you spar with her sometimes

which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)

(but she could)

you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at

and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[revelboo]

your revel highness, if its not too much trouble could you spare some knockout or drift crumbs? only if you're up for it

Sure!

My Favorite Accident Pt 7

Knockout x Reader

• “You can’t just keep sneaking out. It’s being noticed,” Breakdown growls and Knockout huffs at his friend, sterilizing and putting his tools away. Because this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. Knows Breakdown worries about him and the repercussions of him sneaking out just to drag race, but really? Lord Megatron is too busy amusing himself with tormenting that little human they snatched thinking it was important to the Autobots only to realize it wasn’t. Anything else he doesn’t have time for.

• “Aren’t I always careful?” He laughs, turning and tipping his head back as Breakdown frowns at down at him. “It’s just a little fun. You remember what that is?” Pointedly going around his bigger friend, he thinks about that cesspool he’d left you in. Plating crawling at the thought of ever returning there. Embarrassed for you that you work there and wondering how angry you’d be if he burns it down while you’re not there so you have to find a new job. Though, given your current one and that pit-forsaken hovel you live in, you’ll somehow find something worse just to spite him.

• “You’re just spending a lot of time with those little flesh bags,” Breakdown mutters and he vents guiltily. That’s what this is about. That he’s been out racing and lately, practicing alone with you instead of hanging out with Breakdown. Reach up to affectionately cuff the bigger mech on the chassis, he knows he needs to spend some time with Breakdown. But he also needs to check on you, make sure you got home okay. It’s not like he cares, but who is he going to race if you get yourself killed? That in mind, he heads out, aware of Breakdown frowning after him. Unhappy.

• Hoofing it back to the apartment since your ride ditched you, the only good thing is it’s dark now and you’re not baking in the sun at least. But you’re going to kick the hell out of Knockout’s stupid, shiny paint when you see him again. Who just leaves someone stranded? High maintenance alien jerks, apparently. Hair slicked to your forehead and neck with sweat, you see the headlights coming up behind you and move further off the road just as a car streaks by only to immediately slam on the brakes. Speak of the devil.

• On the side the road, he almost doesn’t recognize you, driving past before he catches you in his mirrors. Throwing himself in reverse with a snarl, he backs up and shifts on his shocks. “Why are you walking?” Primus, he knows you’re broke, but still. And you glare at him. Like this is his fault. Annoyed when you just keep walking, he follows.

• “I’m walking, because my ride ditched me.” And because you didn’t have anyone to call, but you’re not about to admit that. Not to him. “Go away before I key you.” It’s an empty threat and you both know it. Even if he seems to, well, not like you, but tolerate your existence, you’re pretty sure he’d stomp you if you tried. And he pops open a door, waving it in invitation. “Really? Cause I’m sweaty.” Door closing sharply, he just keeps passively rolling alongside you.

• What is he doing? Keeping his headlights out, Breakdown trails behind at a safe distance. Close enough to not lose Knockout, but too far away to hear whatever’s being said. But what he can tell? Knockout is talking to a little human walking by the side of the road. Sees his friend open a door for you then close it without you getting in as you throw up a hand at him. Who are you? And why is Knockout bothering with you?

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[raymurata]

Bellara's main choice and DAV's implicit (or accidental) stance on book burning

Okay, so. Prefacing this with -- I enjoyed the game. I'd even play it again. That being said, one of its biggest flaws is trying to deliver something so morally sanitized it shies away from giving its characters (aside from Solas) and plotlines (aside from Solas's) real nuance. And in the same breath, they end up sending messages that I doubt they intended to send.

Bellara's main decision is particularly annoying to me.

First, I find her arc to be lacking -- She starts the game grieving her brother and blaming herself for his death despite not being responsible for it, then she finds Cyrian again only to grieve him again, so she's back to the start, only this time she has had the guilt removed from her because Cyrian tells her what she needs to hear, and the blame is placed on a big bad evil. Fair, fine.

But I don't like the cinematography of that scene at all. There was plenty of time for Rook and Bellara to react between Anaris grabbing Cyrian's foot and throwing him at the wall. People in Thedas have survived way worse injuries, too, and Bellara literally has healing at her disposal. Why doesn't she even try? His death is clearly plot-driven but it doesn't take her arc forward all that much? But again, that's fine. Not too bad.

But then the choice I have to make for her is whether or not to keep the archive, why? At no point in the game (please correct me if I'm wrong and missed canon information that contradicts me. That would make me way less angry!!!) do they tell us that it was Bellara using the Archive that summoned Anaris, or that it could summon him at will. As far as my interpretation goes, the Archive is, as its name says, the equivalent to a library curated by a comically self-aggrandizing jerk. At no point do we hear it share any actually dangerous lore either, do we? No blueprints for nuclear weapons...

So why does the game choose this wording:

Now, unless the Archive has powers we are unaware of, what this is saying is basically "burn the ancient elven library (it will be safe)" or "don't burn the ancient elven library (it will be dangerous)" and, for a game that is so irritatingly set on giving you only 2024-morality-board-approved goodTM and unproblematic companions and allies... Why does it tell me that burning books is the safe option, ESPECIALLY given that these books are priceless historical artefacts from a marginalized and subjugated ethinic group who have long lost their history to genocide? Like, wut?? Even if the Archive were in fact a dangerous weapon, the game shows us through the Veil Jumpers' vault that they have trained capable scholars and developed (or are developing, with Bellara spearheading it) safe tools to study and keep these artefacts. How condescending is it to tell them that they won't be able to safekeep this one? How pointless? (and her cutest armor AND best skill are locked behind that choice? outrageous lmao.)

And what pisses me off is that they had everything set up already, they just had to deliver it differently. If they told us explicitly that the archive is Anaris' phylactery and that keeping it would mean allowing Anaris to eventually come back? THEN we'd have a real danger. NOW there is a non-fascist risk to maintaining knowledge.

Or what if the only reason Cyrian is back is because Anaris brought him back? What if Cyrian's life is therefore tied to Anaris', and you had to choose between letting Anaris live (perhaps that results in him getting imprisoned in the Archive, tampering with the information in it and destroying its historical value forever, plus Anaris might one day figure out a way out) or killing Anaris for good even knowing that Cyrian will also die again if you do (but then the Dalish get to keep the archive and all the knowledge in it, and Cyrian's sacrifice is not in vain)? Or maybe... The Archive is a spirit, isn't it? Drive home the fact that being tied to that device was a cruel thing Anaris did to it, and keeping it there is just as cruel, even if it would mean giving the elves access to information. Make the wording "free the archive" really mean something here, and the player really think that the knowledge will be lost. Then maybe have it that, if she frees it, it gives her information freely and with its own interpretation of that knowledge, and THEN it leaves (so it's not forever but there is a reward for being compassionate). And if she keeps the spirit in the device, then it is always rude and it gives her information curated by Anaris' point of view, but it is available to all upcoming generations. It'd be real nice and nuanced to pit her compassion against her drive for knowledge. If this were DAO or DA2, you wouldn't make the choice FOR HER. You'd make the choice yourself because you are the leader, and if you chose to keep the spirit, you'd garner lots of negative points with Bellara (and with Emmrich) because, let's be honest, she is written as inherently more compassionate than driven, and she'd resent you making an oppressing choice even if it is well-meaning and good for her people (just like Alistair resents you killing Isolde even if he understands it was a difficult choice).

I just... So many ways it could have been an actually weighted choice, or that it could have affected your relationship with Bellara (and other companions) as Bioware RPGs were wont to do. They had a good set up, but the landing was absolutely bonkers.

[contamination-zone]

Just wanted to tell you that i love your Nightmare and Fresh headcanons and personalities ^_^

I love how your Nightmare is such a menace 😭, i dont necessarily enjoy when people make him dadmare (to each their own ofc), so seeing this nightmare is so reFRESHing! I love how you show us his thought process too, its seriously so interesting to see how he thinks

Your fresh too! He's such a silly goober

Seriously, chefs kiss

Thank youuu! X]]]

[Not ship] [Just, so much yammering under the cut]

I am also, ahh, not the most interested in dadmare... I prefer when he is genuinely cruel and an awful person, because I like when characters are just the worst :-][I do feel like I sand off many of the hard edges though, even still... bad habit of mine, to try and make them more palatable hehe]

Also a reason Nightmare is so interesting to me is as a tool to show more of Fresh's characterization off. Most of what I see with Fresh is either ignoring how morally grey he is, or characters helping him get "better." Nightmare though, I feel like he could really show off and feed into Fresh's worst habits.

Nightmare would do very little to make Fresh stop being so existentially terrified of death, I think he'd even feed into it or try to make it worse; its useful to him, it keeps Fresh close. Nightmare is powerful, and if Fresh is so scared all the time, it means it would want to have a strong ally to protect it.

Also the lack of regard for others/using others in self interest. Extremely self explanatory, I think they are just enjoying meals together X]

I also think Nightmare treats Fresh different to the rest of his gang; the gang is useful in what they can do For Nightmare, and only producers of negativity second. Fresh, however, would probably not be a very public ally to Nightmare, and wouldn't provide that sort of thing. His use is in his own suffering, and the suffering of the host he's inhibiting. Which means Nightmare cares less for using him in more practical ways, and more for just Keeping him.

This leads to Fresh getting more special treatment, almost akin to pampering HAHA. Nightmare needs to show that Fresh would have a better time With him than Away from him. He has to balance what he wants of the relationship with the fact that Fresh is liable to bolt if He's not providing enough to Fresh. [And I think escaping, fleeing, is one of Fresh's strong-suits.]

Also sorry gahaha, you had such lovely things to say about my nightmare interpretation, but I just went off about freshi and how he's affected by the relationship.

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [5]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 4 | Fic Masterlist | Part 6

"She's severely malnourished, and the injuries on her body tell us that she's undergone quite the abuse, seemingly for years. But I assume you already deduced that much, yes?" Yunho stated as he turned to your husband.

Seonghwa nodded grimly, "Yes, unfortunately. Is there anything you can do to help with all the marks?"

"Given the lack of proper treatment for so long, most of her wounds have only worsened, resulting in permanent scars from various infections. I'll do my best to treat as much as I can, but please understand that I won't be able to eliminate most of these scars." The physician explained, not wanting to give the general any false hope of restoring your skin back to its original form.

Thankfully, Seonghwa wasn't naturally inclined to optimism, and he didn't care to entertain the idea of a miracle. He sighed, "I understand, Yunho. It doesn't matter to me if the scars remain, just... make all the pain go away for her. That's all that matters."

Though possibly surprised, Yunho didn't reveal it in his expression. That might have been the sweetest sentiment he had ever heard from the general. He nodded, "Very well. I'll need a few tools and herbs to prepare her tonic and ointment. Should I stay in the usual quarters until my work is complete?"

Eager to see her mistress recover quickly, the head maid was ready for action. She stood up as soon as her master addressed her, "Eunsook, you know what to do. Organise a team of servants to assist Physician Jung with everything he requires and prepare his usual accommodation."

Without having to be told twice, she swiftly moved to leave Seonghwa's room, "Yes, master! Please come with me, Physician Jung." The general watched as everyone exited his private quarters, leaving him alone with you.

Bringing a chair beside the bed, he seated himself next to you and mustered the courage to hold your hand. Gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, he felt a pang in his heart, realising that it was far from how the hand of someone your age should be – smooth and flawless. Instead, it bore the marks of what he could only imagine as endless pain.

Reflecting on the unfounded accusations he had hurled at you after your sincere expression of gratitude during dinner, he wished he could turn back time and retract his words, if only it were possible. As if your life hadn't already been hell, he had only made it worse for you.

Suddenly, the notion of you being genuinely happy with The Cold Palace didn't seem so far-fetched. After all, who could fathom the inhumane living conditions you had endured for all those years? However, this realisation brought him no comfort; the fact that your life back in the Jang estate was so bad that you had to express gratitude for being given such a place was heartbreaking.

Seonghwa was jolted from his thoughts when he sensed your weak hand squeezing his. Looking up, he noticed your anguished expression as you cried in your sleep, your voice brokenly uttering, "I'm sorry..."

He felt his heart clench at the sight, prompting him to move and sit closer to you on the bed. Lifting his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes down your cheeks, "Hey, it's alright... You're safe now." He whispered, returning the soft squeeze to your hand.

As if aware of his presence, your eyes snapped open in alarm, and a whimper of fear escaped you as you saw him. For the first time in a long while, the general found no satisfaction in the fear reflected in someone's eyes. You gasped upon realising that the lifeline you were clinging to was him, noticing your hand in his.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried harder when you realised your marks were still fully on display. Pulling your hand away from his, you grasped the sheets around you and clutched them close.

Despite the disappointment he felt at the absence of your hand, he didn't have time to dwell on it with your little panic attack. To ground you, he cupped your face with his hands, "Look at me," and you complied, your trembling eyes meeting his gaze, "Stop apologising and tell me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I-I'm sorry for all this," You gestured miserably to your own body, "I'm hideous. I'm tainted. I'm n-not good enough to be your wife, a-and I never will be. I-I don't deserve happiness... I was foolish to think I could find it h-here... with you."

Shaking his head, he caressed your hollow cheekbones, staring firmly into your eyes, "No, you listen to me. Never think that again. I forbid you from believing you're hideous or tainted or anything ridiculous like that. Whoever dares say you're not good enough to be my wife can go to hell because you're the only one I want. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I will give you just that. You're not foolish to think that. I'll prove it to you."

Leaving you speechless, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you before you could muster a response, pulling you close. The sudden warmth felt foreign but good, and you nestled your face into his broad shoulder, allowing yourself to relish the moment.

Am I dreaming? Feels too good to be true.

Marvelling at the luxurious interior of this beautiful room, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a product of your imagination. How could any of this be real?

The last memory you had was the general storming angrily into your room and ripping your hanbok open. After seeing you in your truest form, how could he have ended up acting this way towards you? It didn't make sense; he should have been disgusted and hostile. Instead, here he was, seemingly accepting you.

Exhausted from a lifetime of pain, you lacked the energy to question the reality of your situation. Even if it were just a dream, you decided to embrace it and savour the experience. On the other hand, if this was reality, you knew you had the rest of your life to understand his change of heart.

All that really mattered now was that the pain and the suffering stopped. If Seonghwa truly accepts you as his wife, the reason behind it doesn't seem important. You would simply be grateful for his kindness, or perhaps sympathy—whatever it was, you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

So long as there's no more pain.

With that decision made, you set aside the lingering questions in your mind and focused on how comforting it felt to be held in a warm embrace like this. A contented sigh escaped you as you whispered against him, "Thank you, my lord."

He responded by tightening his hold around your frame, gently cradling the back of your head with a hand, "No, don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to deserve that from you. I've been horrible, the absolute worst. And for that, I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry, my dear. I promise you, I'll make up for it."

When you attempted to voice your protest, he halted you with a knowing shake of his head, "I know I may seem like an angel in comparison to the people who have... done all those horrendous things to you, but I won't lie and say that I'm proud of myself for the way I acted. You're important too, okay? You're the general's wife now, and I want you to remember that. I won't let anyone disrespect you again."

With a grateful nod, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. This transformed version of Seonghwa before you was a stark departure from the one you initially encountered. You didn't think he was capable of being so soft and caring, but you had no complaints; you could certainly get used to this.

"Oh, mistress! You're finally awake!" Eunsook exclaimed, standing at the room entrance with the physician in tow. This caused you and your husband to break eye contact. The general cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when he realised the two had witnessed your shared intimate moment.

Yunho suppressed his smile and respectfully bowed at you, "Good day, Lady Park. I'm Physician Jung; it's nice to properly meet you." Blinking, you struggled to come up with a response, gaping at his handsome face.

While the elderly woman giggled at your loss of words, Seonghwa was less than amused at your reaction to the doctor's appearance. He scoffed lightly, finding it ridiculous that you were here gazing at another man after he had just poured his heart out to you.

How dare you be unfaithful this soon?

Upon catching the enticing scent of food, your eyes swiftly moved away from Yunho's face. Your face lit up as you finally noticed the bowl of piping hot congee in Eunsook's hands.

"Oh dear, you must be famished. With Physician Jung's help, we concocted this healthy meal for you. I know it's not very appetising, with all the medicinal herbs in it, but you must get better before indulging in tastier foods, alright?" She smiled encouragingly at you.

You shook your head as she approached with the bowl, "Not appetising? It already smells and looks better than anything I've ever had. Thank you for the food." You murmured, eagerly waiting as she fed you.

Unbeknownst to you, your innocent response had affected Seonghwa more than you realised, and it also surprised the physician. While Yunho had heard a bit about your situation from the head maid, he wasn't fully aware of the extent of it, and hearing it directly from you was truly heart-wrenching. That definitely explained the severe malnourishment.

The congee was gone within moments and Eunsook couldn't help but coo, "Well done, mistress." You bit your lip shyly, feeling embarrassed for devouring it in such an unladylike manner, but nothing mattered the moment the food touched your lips.

As if on cue, a group of servants arrived with a fresh set of clothes and bath supplies originally intended for you earlier in the morning. Turning toward the two men, the head maid bowed and gestured toward the door, "Master, Physician Jung, if you wouldn't mind stepping out. We shall bathe and change the mistress."

Yunho nodded, "Certainly, I'll be getting back to work then," and immediately excused himself, reassured to know you had finished your first sitting of medicine.

The general stood up from his spot, "Alright, Eunsook. I'll leave her to you for now. Take care of her for me." He said, moving to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. The action caused your eyes to widen, and all the servants internally squealed, shocked to see their master being so affectionate for the first time.

Your heart swelled as you watched him leave, his back suddenly seeming so reliable. It was hard to believe that he was your husband, yours. How lucky were you to be wedded to Park Seonghwa?

"Come, mistress. Let's get you cleaned up."

You observed with intrigue as the servants rushed around to prepare a bath for you, an experience you had never had before. However, as they began to assist in stripping off your clothes, you realised you had forgotten all about the marks on your skin earlier. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pushed the hands of the servants away and shook your head.

Reassuring you, they withdrew their hands with warm smiles, "It's okay, mistress. Please know we are all on your side; nobody here will disrespect or look down on you. You are now the official wife of General Park, and we will work our hardest to serve you."

The head maid nodded in agreement behind them, their sincerity deeply touching your heart, "Thank you for your kindness." You whispered, finally allowing them to help you out of your hanbok. They handled you with gentleness, and it took you some time to get used to it—finally not being manhandled like you always had been.

After they finished scrubbing you clean, the other maids momentarily left you alone to enjoy the bath, touched by your endearing demeanour—constantly expressing gratitude for every little thing. To them, it felt almost like caring for a child. Exchanging excited glances, none of them could hide their pleasure in having such a sweet mistress.

With your presence, perhaps the general's anger could finally subside, and the estate could experience some peaceful days. If only you knew the hope you had brought with your arrival.

Eunsook lingered in the background, cleaning and tidying up, while you played with the rose petals floating around the bath water. You couldn't recall the last time your life had been so relaxing, so peaceful. Turning to the elderly woman working nearby, you gathered the courage to ask, "This... this isn't a dream, is it?"

Setting down her supplies, she approached you with a motherly smile on her face, "I assure you, mistress, it is not. This is all very real. Perhaps the master's sudden shift in behaviour can be confusing."

She gently held onto your hand, "Trust me, he is actually not such a bad person at all. There's a good reason why all the servants here have been with him for a long time. Though he believes it is simply because of the good pay, it isn't. He just... has a hard time trying to express his feelings. Let's just say master did not exactly grow up living an easy life. He struggles to show his love because he has not been given nearly enough of it while growing up."

That sounds a little like me too.

Giving your hand a soft squeeze, she added, "And now, with you here, it seems we can all hope that things will change for the better, for master and for you, mistress."

"M-me? Better because of... me?" You whispered, returning the squeeze, and she nodded, "Yes, mistress. All because of you. You are our light and our hope. Thank you for coming to us. You're so important to everyone here, you know that? Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

You didn't realise you were crying until you felt a gentle touch as the elderly woman wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks, assuring you, "No matter what happens, I promise you won't be alone anymore from now on."

Standing in the centre of the room later on, it almost felt like a dream come true as the servants attentively assisted you in getting dressed. For once, you felt genuinely cared for and respected, a stark contrast to your previous experiences at home, where most servants treated you as less than human.

Turning to face the mirror, a gasp escaped you as you gazed at your reflection, "You look beautiful, mistress. Master is going to love it." A servant exclaimed, admiring your natural beauty. Your eyes widened as you took in the pleasant appearance before you, surprised that despite the visibility of your scars, you could look appealing. It appeared that with proper care, hair, and clothing, you could indeed appear somewhat pretty.

I guess all hope is not lost.

"We'll be taking our leave now, mistress." The rest of the maids bowed in a line before you as they finished up. Panic crossed their faces when they saw you about to return their bows, and Eunsook stopped you in time, saying, "Oh dear, mistress! We'll have to work on that. Please remember you do not have to bow to any of the servants here, or anywhere, for the matter."

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'll remember that next time."

She chuckled and shook her head, "That too, you do not need to apologise to us. We are here to serve you." The maids nodded to signal that the elderly woman was right, smiling encouragingly at you before bowing one last time and leaving to return to their other tasks.

"Now, there's still a bit more time before dinner. What would you like to do until then, mistress?" The head maid asked.

You blinked, realising you didn't know how to answer. You never had the luxury to do as you pleased; all your supposed spare time was spent rotting in your prison cell of a room. What did your stepsisters usually do? Right, make your life hell. That's what.

What do young ladies around your age do?

Suddenly remembering Eunsook's earlier words about having to work on what you should and shouldn't do, you perked up, "I... I wish to learn. I want to be a proper lady, to be a proper wife for the general."

You stared, puzzled, as the elderly woman tried to hide her cheeky grin, "Well, the master's study is full of all sorts of knowledgeable books. Maybe you can find something in there. Would you like to go there now, mistress?"

Finding nothing wrong with the suggestion, you agreed. The next thing you knew, you were left standing alone by the entrance to the study she had been talking about. She had explained that she needed to assist the physician with an important task before hastily disappearing.

Not wanting to be impolite, you knocked on the door and waited for a response, "May I please enter, my lord?" After a moment of silence, you knocked again, only to be met with silence.

Maybe he's not inside.

With a shrug, you cautiously pushed the door open. Your eyes widened when you immediately spotted Seonghwa seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in his reading with a slight furrow of his brows. Despite planning to leave, you found yourself rooted to the spot, admiring how attractive he looked, even when only sitting there.

As if sensing someone watching him, his eyes immediately shot up in alert, only to soften when he realised it was you. Caught off guard, you sputtered and bowed repeatedly, "I-I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean to spy on you or anything like that. Eunsook told me I could occupy myself with some books in here until dinner, and I—"

Too busy staring down at your feet, you didn't notice he had been making his way towards you. You gasped when his shoes came into view, looking up to find him right in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, "Relax, I'm not angry. You're welcome to spend time with me; I'd be happy to accompany you."

Looking at you closely now, his heart raced as he realised how stunning you appeared in this natural state, even more so than with a face full of heavy makeup, "You... you look beautiful, by the way." He remarked, watching with admiration as a blush tinted your cheeks when you quietly thanked him.

As you bit your lips shyly, he found it hard to look away, feeling a desire to kiss you that he had never experienced with any woman before, "M-my lord?" You stuttered, feeling flustered by the sudden attention he was paying to your lips.

With a hand outstretched, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to join him, "R-right, let me know what you're looking for. This is no royal library, but I'm sure I'll have whatever you need."

You gulped, shyly placing your hand in his waiting one, "I was hoping to learn more about lady etiquette. I... I want to be a proper lady and wife for you, my lord." His heart melted at that; despite the less-than-warm welcome he had given you, you were still willing to work hard and be better for him.

"Very well, come with me." Tightening his hold on your hand, he gently led you towards the bookshelves lining the side of his study.

As you passed by his desk, you couldn't help but do a double take at the reading material he had been so focused on just earlier. You'd recognise the Jang family crest anywhere.

"Wait, isn't that—"

Before you could inquire about it, Seonghwa was already in the process of tidying up the space and simultaneously putting the book away, "Sorry for the mess. Now, which area of lady etiquette did you want to start with first?" He asked, gesturing to the entire row of books dedicated to the topic.

"O-oh, I haven't really thought about that. I wasn't aware there were so many different areas. Gosh, I have much to learn..." You trailed off, your mind already reeling as you tried to figure out which area would be best to begin with.

He sighed in relief, successfully redirecting the conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted the recognition in your eyes upon seeing your family records. The general didn't want to have to interview you in order to delve into your past; he didn't want you to relive any nightmares. More importantly, he didn't want to worry you by revealing any of the plans he had in store for your family.

« Preview of Part 6 »

Jongho entered his master's study that night, panting and puzzled to find the desk filled with books on... lady etiquette?

"S-sir?"

Seonghwa snapped up immediately, catching the assistant's appalled gaze on your books. He chuckled, "Oh, those are just your mistress' books. She said she wants to learn to be a proper lady and wife... can you believe that?"

Without himself noticing, the general had an almost dreamy look on his face as he smiled, lost in thoughts of you, unaware that he was letting it show on his face, revealing his affection for you.

"I see. I'm sure the mistress will no doubt make you proud with her studies soon." Jongho responded with a knowing grin, pleased to see his master being soft for a change, the intimidating General Park momentarily gone, all because of his wife.

Recalling his aide's purpose for being here this late, Seonghwa quickly turned serious, "Well, have you managed to find anything?"

The assistant immediately straightened up, moving closer to the general and lowering his voice, "I have, sir. With the funds you provided, I hired a private investigator willing to infiltrate the Jang estate. Fortunately, one of the older servants didn't take much to crack; she told him just about everything."

With a clenched fist, your husband asked for confirmation, "Well? Was it her father?"

Nodding, Jongho's expression turned grim, "It was as you assumed, sir. It was him, his wife, his stepdaughters, and even the servants. But there's... more. We've uncovered new information, the minister... he truly is despicable."

Sorry, this part took a little longer! Happy to report that I'm feeling much better! I was out all day with my family and immediately got to work finalising this as soon as I got home!

Thank you so much for 800+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and I'm so excited to hear all your thoughts (or even predictions for what's to come😈), I promise I won't spoil anything in my replies! <3

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[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

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You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

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[objectumnonsense]

robot oneshot, as requested VwV

The lab was dark, save for the dim neon light filtering in through the curtains and a singular work lamp in the corner of the room. Every few minutes, a train passed overhead, making the ceiling groan with the weight, but it was otherwise quiet. The lab's only two occupants sat without speaking, one in maintenance mode on a table and the other wearing thick, elbow-length rubber gloves and wielding a variety of delicate tools.

The Mechanic worked diligently and in near silence, save for softly humming a tune and occasionally blowing their hair out of their face while they worked on SN-0407-67. The only sounds coming from 67 were the hum of its fans and the occasional buzz of a wire being put in the wrong place, quickly corrected by the Mechanic.

After about half an hour, the Mechanic said, in a voice rough with disuse, "Exit maintenance mode," and a line of small lights blinked to life on the back of 67's neck. Its shutters flicked open and it turned its head right around to face the Mechanic.

"Is there a problem?" it buzzed.

"Well, I don't wanna catastrophize, but I'm lookin' through your lower back complex and I'm seein' some stuff that looks an awful lot like buzz bug eggs. Can you run a diagnostics check for me real quick?"

"Affirmative." In a blink of its shutters, it received data from all of its main systems and most of its secondary and tertiary programs and responded.

"Small loop errors in primary memory arrays. Minimal damage to recursive power wiring. Buzz bugs may be a possibility. Suggestion: analyze sample of offending material."

"Will do. Wanna go back to sleep?"

"Negative. We are almost done, correct?"

"If this don't turn out to be an infestation, yeah. What's got you so eager to leave?"

"Nothing. I simply do not enjoy being in maintenance mode for extended periods of time."

"Oh? Why's that?"

67 turned back around and allowed the Mechanic to pry open its back panel and delicately reach through its wiring with a pair of tweezers.

"I dislike being unaware of my surroundings for so long. It is against my purpose."

"It's necessary though, ain't it?"

"As is sleeping. But you are avoiding that now."

"Fair 'nuff."

The silence returned for a few minutes. The Mechanic extricated some pieces of material from 67's wiring and the gaps in their chassis while it sat perfectly still and nearly silent.

Abruptly, a small yellow light on their shoulder lit up and they said, "Your heart rate and breathing have increased."

"Huh?"

"Are you in distress? Is the infestation worse than you expected?"

"Oh, no, nothin' like that. If this is buzz bugs, we caught 'em real early. I could probably get all of this outta you before dawn."

"That is good."

They continued without speaking for a few moments more, the yellow light still turning on and off rhythmically, before 67 spoke up again.

"Your heart rate has not decreased."

"And I suppose I can't ask you to ignore that?"

"Negative. It is against my purpose."

"Right. First aid robot."

The Mechanic pursed their lips and tried to continue their work, but 67 kept talking.

"You hands are shaking slightly. Allow me to check your blood sugar content."

Before the Mechanic could respond, 67 had already completed the check.

"Blood sugar content within healthy range. Brain scan indicates higher than normal levels of oxytocin. Heart rate and breathing rate are increased, but have plateaued."

"Can't keep anythin' secret from you, huh?"

"Negative. You have poor control over your responses to emotion."

"Well, can't say I didn't try."

"Correct. You are still avoiding telling me the reason for your heightened emotional state."

"Would it hurt so bad to let this one go unmentioned?"

"A key to maintaining healthy relationships is communication between constituents. I am curious why you are acting differently."

"It's... complicated. It's a human thing."

"Mechanic, "human things" are my area of expertise. I will understand whatever you tell me."

"I just..." They sighed, but set their tweezers aside and brushed their fingers along a piece of 67's circuitry. "Can you feel this? When I'm workin' on you?"

"To an extent, yes."

"And does it... hurt?"

"Not unless something is damaged. It feels almost the same as when my exterior is touched."

"Almost?"

"There is a level of... trust involved. I trust that you will not break me, you trust that I will not close myself or shock you to injure you."

"When I do this..." the Mechanic traced the column of 67's spine with their index finger, "what is that like?"

"I fail to see why you are asking me again. Did I not just explain it?"

"I know, I know, just.. tell me what you feel me doin'."

"Alright."

A moment's pause.

"I feel you touching the outer shell of my spine. It holds much of my central processing power, which is why it's covered by thick metal plating. But I know you will not try to damage it."

"And now?"

"Now you're moving towards my power cell. It's a very powerful battery, and very fragile. But you will not damage it."

"Now?"

"You're reaching up through my chest cavity towards my transform arrays. This is where most of my proprioceptive senses are processed. It's also highly sensitive to touch. But you will not damage it."

The Mechanic let out a shaky sigh. The blinking yellow light on 67's shoulder began flashing more quickly. They noticed it was in time with their heartbeat.

"Your breathing and heart rate have increased steadily. Is there something you aren't telling me?"

They abruptly pulled their hand out of 67's back and stammered an apology.

"Sorry, I'm - sorry, that - that was kinda weird. I shouldn'ta -"

"It was not unpleasant."

Their words ground to a halt and they stared at the back of 67's head.

"You... motherfucker, you knew this whole time, didn't you?"

67 made a beep that sounded like a laugh.

"Negative. I only realized when I scanned you."

The Mechanic leaned their head against 67's shoulder with a clunk.

"And I couldn't get you to delete this whole interaction from your memories?"

"Negative."

The Mechanic sighed again and leaned back, rubbing their temples.

"Well, that's about it for your checkup anyways. We should probably get goin'."

"Mechanic, I would not refuse if you wanted to take this further."

The Mechanic froze. "Whuh?"

"I do not have the capacity to feel it the same way you do. But I understand it would be enjoyable for you. My purpose, after all, is to ease suffering."

"Wh - but - I - I'm not sufferin' about it, I just -"

"Mechanic."

67 rose and walked around the table, standing very close to the Mechanic and resting a careful hand on their hip. They swallowed thickly.

"We are the only ones in here. We have time."

The Mechanic let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. They raised a hand to 67's face plate and brushed their thumb along it.

"You're amazin', you know that? Just... incredible."

"I know," 67 replied, a playful lilt in its voice. "Tell me if you want me to stop at any point."

"Alright."

67 stepped even closer so that one of its legs was between both of the Mechanic's and they had to lean back against the table. One of their hands rested on 67's shoulder and the other settled on its hip.

67 hooked a thumb over the Mechanic's waistband and tugged down. Its other hand worked its way up their shirt and cupped their chest. It leaned its head down and bonked it gently on the top of theirs.

"Was that supposed to be a kiss?"

"Affirmative."

"You're such a dork."

67 hummed. Its movements remained smooth and steady, but the Mechanic distinctly heard its cooling fans pick up when it tugged their underwear aside.

"Could it be you're enjoyin' this too, 67?" they purred, lifting the hand that was on its shoulder to the back of its head, where they brushed over some of the exposed wires there. Its lower shutter twitched upwards.

"You do look... very nice. Under me like this."

"Mmm. Kinky." They spread their legs further and gasped when 67's searching hands found their bare skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. It's just been a while. Go slow."

"Understood."

Gently, 67 started working its hand, and the Mechanic let out a quiet groan. They rolled their hips into 67's touch, grip tightening on its neck and making its shutter twitch again.

"Is - fuck - is that hurtin' you?" they asked.

"Negative."

"Want me to - to stop?"

"Nnegative."

At the stalling of 67's voice, the Mechanic raised an eyebrow. "Is it gettin' you off or s-something?

"N N N N - Unsure. My proproprocessor has encountered an error."

Experimentally, the Mechanic chose a wire and tugged on it - not enough to break it, but with enough force to pull it partially out of line. 67 jolted forward, making a buzzing sound the Mechanic had never heard before, and its hand dug harshly into their flesh, making them gasp.

"Arrre you alright?" it asked, stopping all motion. The Mechanic whined and pushed against its hand.

"Don't stop," they pleaded.

"One moment. I nnneed to check -"

The Mechanic tugged on the same wire again, creating the same reaction, and sighed with satisfaction.

"Memememechanic," 67 scolded, though the effect was somewhat lost due to the skipping in its voice.

"Keep goin'. I didn't tell you to stop."

"Make me."

The defiance caught the Mechanic off guard, but only for a moment. They glared up at 67.

"Y'know, you're real disobedient for a robot," they growled, finding a different wire and wrapping it around their finger. 67's shutters closed completely this time, its entire body jerking randomly for a moment before the Mechanic let the wire go again. "I thought you were s'posed to follow directions?"

"Youyouyou haven't said the magic word yet," 67 replied, though their hand had begun to move again.

"Make me cum, 67. That's an order."

"Affirmativvve."

The Mechanic cried out at the dizzying pace 67 suddenly set, hips rocking helplessly into its touch. Its name flowed from their lips like a hymn. 67 bore down on them, chest pressed to theirs, free hand supporting their back so they didn't fall.

"Yesyesyesyes, just like that, yes -!"

With a drawn-out moan, the Mechanic came hard, slumping back so that 67 had to adjust its hold on them, completely at its mercy as it kept up the harsh pace of its hand. It slowed to a stop the moment the feeling became too much and their groans of pleasure turned into whimpers.

The pair stayed like that for a moment, the Mechanic struggling to catch their breath and clinging to 67, whose fans were still going at top speed. It stared adoringly down at them, privately recording a short clip to replay later.

"Holy shit," the Mechanic finally breathed, pushing themself upward off of 67's arm. "That was... wow."

"I trust you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yeah. Jesus Christ. Are you... can I - is there anythin' I can do for you?"

"Negative. No part of me can experience anything close to sexual arousal, but I appreciate the consideration."

"So, just outta curiosity, what were the wires doin' to ya?"

That gave 67 pause.

"I'm... unsure. It's not a sensation I've ever felt before."

"Was it bad?"

"Negative. It was... novel. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"So what... would it be okay if I did it again?"

Another pause.

"...Affirmative. Please be careful."

"You know careful's my middle name."

The Mechanic lifted both of their hands and rested them on 67's neck. One slid its fingers over the exposed wires, still slightly out of place, making 67 beep and twitch.

"Why don't you try tellin' me what you feel?" they purred, finding a wire and winding it around their finger. 67 took a moment to respond, its voicebox making nonsense sounds before it could gather it to something intelligible.

"I I I I feel... dizzzzy? I think that wiwiwire has a role in proprioceptive data transfer. It's hard to to to to rrrecall at the moment."

"Mmm. And what about now?" the Mechanic asked, parting the wires and reaching deeper into 67's neck. They felt their finger make contact with cool metal, and 67 made a long, low tone until they lifted it.

"My my my my my centrrrral spinal casinnnnng. It's very sensensensitive to touch, which is is is why it's underrrrneath everything ellllse."

"You're startin' to sound pretty rough, 67."

"Hard to to to prrrocess speech at the momoment. Unsure how to parrrrse sensory dadadadata."

"Still don't want me to stop?"

"Affirrrmative. Want you you you touch furrrrther in me."

"Fuck, that's hot."

The Mechanic moved upward this time, under the plating on the back of 67's head with a muttered "keep your head down." 67's head briefly dropped limply downward, chin hitting its chest with a dull thunk, before the Mechanic hastily removed their hand and it looked back up at them.

"Why did you you stop?"

"That wasn't bad?"

"Negative. Want morrre."

"Oh, I see how it is." They resumed their probing, 67's head falling again, its voice struggling to express exactly what it was feeling.

"Hannnds in my in me touch ch ch ch mind feel I feel your hands," it managed, and the Mechanic bit their lip, looking up at it with adoration in their eyes.

"God, you sound fuckin' wrecked. I wish I knew I could do this to you sooner," they confessed. 67's optic flickered.

"Want want hands want touch morrre so so so much so want want want wannnnnnt -"

Abruptly, its voice dropped so low it was almost a buzz, its optic blinking out, hands in a vise grip on the Mechanic's hips while the lights on its body turned off all at once. Its fans continued on high for a moment more before they lowered to a more normal level and a noise like a dial-up played.

"Shit."

The Mechanic waited nervously while 67 rebooted, slowly releasing their hips before its optic blinked back to life, immediately zeroing in on them.

"Are you okay? Did I touch something I shouldn't've?"

"Negative. I am still processing. Please give me a moment."

After a second or two, 67 spoke again.

"Last sensation recorded before shutdown: foreign object inside cranial casing. Pressure applied to central tactile nerve. Systems overwhelmed." It blinked. "No memory lost. I am in no pain."

"So that tactile nerve thing -"

"I felt... everything. It's hard to explain."

"I think I get it. Don't worry."

"It was... good. I felt good. I would like to do this again sometime."

"Is right now a good sometime? 'Cause that was fuckin' hot."

67's optic widened slightly, disbelief creeping into its voice.

"Causing a temporary shutdown... made you aroused again?"

"It was more like making you get there. But yeah."

"Interesting. In that case..."

67 opened the maintenance panel on its chest, exposing a crisscrossing maze of wires and circuits to the Mechanic, who practically drooled.

"Help yourself to me."