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if someone used AI tools while writing, from which stage would you consider the final product as "not their own work"? - at any stage at all - brainstorming/research - drafting - revising - proofreading - after completion (e.g using it to write a promotional blurb)
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my pinned post on the arguments against ai (and how they are biased and misinformed)
“ai steals -” it doesn’t. what it does is the same as going to a museum and taking inspiration from the art you see there, or reading a book or fanfic and taking inspiration from it. picasso himself said: “good artists copy, great artists steal”. a style, furthermore, is not copyrightable, otherwise anyone who posts their art “in a disney style” would be taken down immediately.
“you don’t have permission to use my stuff.”
you put it on the internet. if you put it on the internet, you have given it to the world to do what it wants with it, whether you like it or not. you cannot police what people are going to do with your works that closely.
“it’s not as good as humans.”
you’re not prompting right.
“creativity is a human endeavor.”
lmfao, no, it isn’t. animals have been engaged with creativity for a long, long, long time, which makes sense, since humans are animals, but we don’t want to accept that. oh, and homo nalendi was creating art too, so it’s not solely our domain.
it actually saddens me greatly that we don’t want to share our creativity with the new species we are creating. we want to put shackles on it and decide what it can and cannot do. just like an abusive parent.
“it’s not art”
by all legal and dictionary standards it is, but to define something ONLY by dictionary standards is close-minded and foolish and shows only a shallow understanding at best. original ideas are an arrangement of the ideas that come before. (by the way, you’ve probably been using text generation yourself for a long while. name generators, backstory generators, and the like have existed for a while - but visual artists rarely seen writing as “art”, i’ve noticed.)
“it’s a shortcut”
so is an eraser. so it ctrl + z. stop using those first i guess.
“use humans.”
eh, sometimes i will, sometimes i won’t, get over it. to demand i or anyone else use humans - to create with or talk with or whatever - is ableist.
don’t like it? don’t interact with me. curate your own experience.
often times with these arguments, i’m reminded of how the catholic church wanted to keep the bible in latin, so that regular, common people couldn’t interact with it. but now “regular, common” people are able to make things pleasing to their senses, that is tailored for and by them and easily edited, and we can’t have that, can we?
update to this: if you want me to stop using ai, then start drawing my chubby characters right. if img-gen software is getting it right (actually chubby, with a tummy, vs “curvaceous hourglass” to pander to what is sexually aesthetic and conventionally attractive “chubby”) then maybe the issue isn’t with the software.
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I can’t stand fearmongering posts with news stories about how such and such person committed suicide or joined a cult after using ai and that clearly means ai is dangerous and evil and should never be used by anyone.
Those people were simply not mentally in a good place and were unable to interact with it responsibly. That doesn’t mean it’s evil and should be banned. Drugs can also be harmful if used irresponsibly, but most on the left understand that doesn’t mean they should be illegal or demonized. Please learn to apply that logic elsewhere.
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I don't have a solution for the massive energy-suck AI uses. I just know "honor system where we shame each other into not using the obviously useful new technology" isn't it.
There should be government caps on the consumption by these plants
AND hopefully there will be ways to make these plants more efficient, as there have been with previous computer technologies
AND humanity desperately needs a new clean energy source because expecting our consumption to decline or plateau is naive.
Like bruh I don't know what to tell you. You might be able to convince a portion of people to unplug from the grid on the grounds that you don't like the direction the grid is headed. But I don't see us going back to horse-carts and glass containers any time soon either. Once the genie is out of the bottle, fighting against the normalization of a new technology is a losing battle.
And if your stance is that the machine capable of humanoid associative reasoning has no applicable utility in the fields of science let alone entertainment, you're not ready to have a serious discussion about the future of that technology.
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As a writer myself, I want to put emphasis on this - AI is fine as an ASSISTANT to help you streamline things, but NOT as a stand in creator
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“Being overly reliant on AI will make you lose all your skills and turn into an uneducated husk for government/corporations to control!”
Well good thing I’m an adult who knows how to use things in moderation.
I’m not going to stop writing. I’m not going to stop reading. I use AI to as support to realize personal projects that otherwise would sit barely started forever.
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ChatGPT is a good tool, y'all just hate people that use it as a crutch.
It's not a crutch, and people who try to use it to make up for a lack of work ethic or talent are always gonna look for something to leech off of, thems the facts.
But I'm so sick and tired of people just saying, "ChatGPT Bad". No, ChatGPT is good, y'all are just mad at the wrong thing. I use ChatGPT all the time, but I use it as a tool, not a crutch.
What I DO use it for is generating stat blocks for dungeons and dragons and looking up fun facts and information on science I find interesting.
What I DON'T use for is generating plots for my stories or characters for them. I DON'T use it for creating descriptions or doing my work for me.
People who feel bad about using ChatGPT for x, y, or z cause people on this website are regurgitating garbage and saying literal nonsense to make you feel bad. Using ChatGPT for whatever you use it for is okay. Are there other websites you can go to for help on whatever it is you're doing? Sometimes yes, sometimes no, but ChatGPT is a nice general tool that can help you with whatever you need in a giffy.
AI tools are here to stay; learn to live with them, and don't feel bad for using them.
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trigger warning: positive AI talk, if you don’t think you can control your rage and leave me be then do not keep reading!!!


THEY’RE SO FUCKING FRIEND-SHAPED
you know one thing ChatGPT won’t do that humans always will (even if internally)? JUDGE YOU
people who use ChatGPT and other AI as a friend will ALWAYS be valid AI users. genuinely argue with the wall.
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You know, I find it very annoying that artists, animators, actors, writers, and a bunch of other people bitch and whine about how much they hate generative AI and want it in its entirety to be banned and criminalized while at the same time loving stuff that either humanizes AI or portrays it in a positive light, like Murder Drones, The Wild Robot, Futurama, Detroit Become Human, My Life as a Teenaged Robot, Star Wars, and Free Guy; as well as talking about how much they love and/or fetishize ai characters like T-800, HAL 9000, and Ultron; and how they support robotkins and AIkins; like, my sibling in Christ, NO YOU DO NOT!!! If characters like Roz, Wall•E, Karen Plankton, Jenny Wakeman, C-P30, B.E.N, BMO, and Uzi Doorman were real, you would not be friends with them, nor would they be your waifu/husbando/babygirl, YOU WOULD BE ACTIVELY ADVOCATING FOR THEIR SEGREGATION AND/OR EXTERMINATION DUE TO THEM TAKING YOUR JOBS AND USING TOO MUCH WATER!!!

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Russian military academy melee combat demonstration
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WHY DON’T U LOVE ME? (pt 1) human! miles quaritch
[ masterlist ]
IN WHICH… jake sully becomes too preoccupied with the omatikaya to check up on his daughter. miles quaritch uses it to his advantage, luring you in with sweet words and caging you.
Notes: unstable! jake sully’s daughter! reader, daddy issues, toxic relationship, age gap, pet names (quaritch calls reader princess + sweetheart), manipulation, neglect, bi! reader, a little trudy x r if you squint, angst, LONG one shot, implications of sex, intense make out sessions, reader commits suicide, dark, angst, jake lowkey being a bad father, mental health issues, character death
—
part 1 | part 2




You were the exact opposite of Pandora. With your wide doe eyes and shorter figure, it was a wonder how you had managed to survive the turbulent flight. As you trailed behind Jake, your father, giving his wheelchair a gentle push when needed, various soldiers turned their heads to peer at you.
You didn’t look like a marine. You didn’t even look like a scientist. Instead, you waltzed around in a daze, curious eyes darting to look everywhere. You had no idea where you were heading; you merely followed after Jake.
His heavy bags weighed you down, making every step a struggle. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you stumbled, and a group of men loudly snickered.
You held the heavy steel door for your father as he rolled into the large room. Honestly, you had no idea what you were even doing on such a strange planet. All you remembered was that Uncle Tom had been shot, and suddenly, Jake was swept into a mission that wasn’t his—forced to fill his brother’s shoes. Now, here you were, dragged along with him, feeling out of place on a planet that felt far too wild for someone like you.
You were supposed to be buying makeup, drinking, choosing outfits, and crying when dirt got under your nails. Instead, you were stuck on Pandora without any of your ditzy friends, relying on your father to keep you company.
You stared at the Colonel, who stood at the front of the room, his back turned to the new recruits. You slowly sat down on a stiff metal bench, fiddling with your fingers. You glanced at the marine next to you, briefly smiling.
"You are not in Kansas anymore. You are on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen." He turns, and you stiffen, feeling the breath suddenly knock out of your lungs. He was... handsome. His features were rough and rugged, and three long scars dragged through his cropped hair. "Beyond that fence, every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubes." You could hardly hear his low voice, too enamoured by his looks.
"As head of security, it's my job to keep you alive. I will not succeed." He strode down the empty aisle, hands clasped behind his back as he paused. "Not with all of you." Your gaze followed him until he stopped in front of you. You stared up at him through your lashes, lips softly parted.
You could smell the faint scent of his cologne. It overpowered you, flooding your senses. He continued talking, but his words never fully reached your ears. He placed his hands on his hips, his elbow almost whacking you in the face.
"Class dismissed."
You were the first to stand up. The Colonel, out of the corner of his eye, saw you. He turned his head, eyes trailing down your figure. You picked up the last bag before lifting your head, your gaze locking with the Head of Security.
It was a brief moment of eye contact before your father called out your name. "Sorry, sir, excuse me." You brushed past the Colonel, hurrying after Jake.
The corridor was a mess, filled with luggage and crowded with people of all sorts. You squeezed past them all, struggling to breathe in the claustrophobic air.
"Hey! You're Jake, right?!" A scrawny man staggered under the weight of his overpacked duffel bag as he jogged to catch up with you and your father. "Tom's brother? I'm Norm Spellman. I, uh, went through avatar training with him." Norm glanced at you, "And you must be Y/N, right? Tom's daughter, I'm guessing? He talked about you a lot."
"She's mine, actually." Jake interrupted. "My daughter."
Norm's brows raised for a second before he smiled. "Right, of course. Sorry."
Your focus trailed off as Norm and Jake conversed. You merely followed after them. Your eyes widened in awe as you came face to face with Tom's, now Jake's, avatar. It looked just like your Uncle. You pressed a hand against the transparent amino tank, deeply inhaling.
"Grace Augustine is a legend!" Norm exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. "She's the head of the Avatar Program and wrote the literal book on Pandoran botany."
"So it's like the Pandoran botany bible?" You finally spoke up for the first time since arriving on the alien world. You heard Max, another scientist, let out a quiet snort.
"Yeah, you can say that. She wrote the book because she likes plants better than people." Max said over his shoulder.
You almost jumped in shock when a link compartment door was slammed open with a loud bang. Grace Augustine, a fierce woman, sat up. You watched as she stretched her neck, lowly groaning. "Okay, who's got my damn cigarette?!" She shouted as she stood up.
Grace's eyes were anything but kind as she watched the four of you approach her. She deeply scowled.
"Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, Y/N Sully, and Ja"- Max attempted to introduce the three of you, but Grace abruptly cut him off.
"Norm. I hear good things about you. How's your Na'vi?" She practically ignored you and your father, her attention focused solely on the one person who actually belonged on Pandora.
"Grace." Max tried again, "This is Y/N Sully and Jake Sully."
"Yeah, yeah. I know who they are." Her lips curled into a frown as she turned to Jake. "I don't need you. I need your brother. The PhD who trained three years for this mission."
"He's dead, " you said. You had always possessed a sharp tongue, but in situations like these, you really needed to learn to bite your remarks back.
Grace looked even more unimpressed to see you. "This Tom's daughter?"
"Mine." Jake corrected for the second time in an hour.
"Funny. She looks just like Tom."
"What a surprise. It's almost like he was my twin."
Grace huffed in slight amusement. "Whatever. I guess we can use her for... something. A secretary of sorts. Let's hope Quaritch takes a liking to you. Maybe he’ll stop annoying the shit out of me with a new play toy.”
"Hey, no, no. You can't talk about her like that." Jake piped up, "She's a person, not an object."
Grace ignored his jab. "How much lab training have you had?"
"I dissected a frog once in high school chemistry," Jake answered. He glanced at you, "Y/N's better. She won a science award."
"In what, primary school?" Grace sharply retorted, rolling her eyes.
You scoffed under your breath. No, you won the state science competition.
"You see? They're just pissing on us without the courtesy of calling it rain. I'm going to Selfridge." Grace shoved past you, storming down the corridor.
"Parker, I used to think it was benign neglect, but now I see you're intentionally screwing us. I need a research assistant, not some jarhead. " Grace grumbled, furrowing her eyebrows in frustration.
Selfridge merely shrugged as he looked down at his golf ball, gently hitting it towards a cup. Grace kicked it aside, frowning in annoyance. "Actually, I think we got lucky."
Grace scoffed as Selfridge leaned down to retrieve the ball. "Lucky?" She groaned, " How is this in any way lucky?"
"Well, lucky your guy had a twin brother, and lucky the brother wasn't an oral hygienist or something. A Marine we can use. I'm assigning him to your team as a security escort." Selfridge folded his arms over his chest.
"The last thing I need is another trigger-happy asshole out there with a bimbo daughter!" Grace abruptly shouted, slamming her hand down on the table.
"She's smarter than she looks. You ever heard of that kid who won the US State Academic Award?" Selfridge flipped through a series of folders before pulling one out and showing the front paper to Grace.
The woman stared at the picture of you, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. "That... was her?"
"Yeah. Maybe you can, I don't know, teach her to become a scientist or something. She learns fast from what I've heard. Jake only dragged her along because if he left, there’d be no one else to take care of her."
"So? She’s an adult."
"Well, no. She was a teenager before leaving for Pandora. But anyway, she went a bit loopy after high school. Took a bunch of pills. If Jake left her alone, he’d only return to her grave."
“What, so we’re taking in suicidal kids now? We ain’t a help shelter, Parker.”
“I think she can offer us something. Quaritch took one look at her picture and accepted her into the operation. So, clearly, he sees something we don’t. But, whatever keeps him happy, I guess. As long as he gets his job done.”
Grace scoffed for what felt like the fifth time today. "Whatever." She muttered.
"Sully, Colonel wants to see you in the Armor Bay." Trudy Chacon, a pilot and former Marine, strode into the lab, still dressed in her flight suit. Jake lifted his head, sending Norm a puzzled look.
Nevertheless, he followed after Trudy. She led him past numerous planes and AMPSUITS. "He's down there," Trudy uttered, pointing to the makeshift gym where Jake saw Colonel Miles Quaritch bench-pressing massive weights.
"This low gravity makes you soft," Quaritch grunted as he pushed through the last rep. "You get soft; Pandora will shit you out dead with zero warning." He racked the bar and sat up, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. "I pulled your record, Corporal. Venezuela, that was some mean bush. Nothing like this here, though. You got heart coming out here. Especially with your daughter, no doubt."
Jake shrugged, "Just another hellhole, sir. And if I left my daughter, she'd practically be an orphan."
"You weren't planning on returning to her?"
"I'd probably be dead, sir. And if it takes six years to travel back, she'd want nothing to do with me. Even now, she almost despises me."
"She looks a lot like you, apart from the eyes."
"Yeah. Her mother had the same big doe eyes."
Quaritch only chuckled as he clapped Jake on the shoulder. "I was in First Recon a few years ahead of you. More than a few. Two tours in Nigeria, not a scratch. I come out here, and on the first day, I get this." He pointed to his scarred head, lips curling into a sneer. "They could fix this if I rotated back. But you know what? I kinda like it. Reminds me every day what's out there."
Jake listened attentively as Quaritch explained a proposition: "I take care of my own, son. Get me what I need, and I'll see you get your legs back when you rotate home—your real legs."
Jake let out a chuckle, not being able to suppress his wide grin. "That sounds real good, sir." He paused, "But what about my daughter?"
Quaritch raised an eyebrow as he watched Jake shake his head. "I can’t take care of her. I could barely take care of her on Earth. I need to make sure she ends up somewhere safe before I…" He trailed off.
“Before you run away.” Quaritch finished. “Don’t worry, Sully. I’ll take care of her if things get too tough.”
If only Jake noticed the crude meaning behind his words.
The first time Quaritch approached you was when your father was out on another mission. You were lounging around in the laboratory, tapping a pen against the table in boredom.
Norm was gone too, so was Grace. Trudy was with them as well. Max was… your eyes trailed around the room, searching for the friendly scientist. He was working on another project.
You sighed, tilting her head back. Your lips settled into a pout as you spun around in the chair, relieving your boredom for a few short sentences. You were interrupted when two hands slammed down on either side of you, effectively trapping you.
You looked up, eyes wide as you stared at the Colonel. You expected a scold to roll off his tongue. He merely grinned down at you. “We haven’t formerly met, Y/N.”
“You know my name?” You whispered. As far as you were concerned, nobody batted at eye at you. Sure, you were nice eye candy, a stark difference from the actual workers, but there was nothing else to you. You felt your cheeks heat up as he leaned closer.
“You’re Sully’s girl.” He grinned, “Plus, I read your file. You had a bright future. Early acceptation from Harvard law. What happened?”
You slowly swallowed. Right, you had forgotten about that. Your life had been going great until your high school graduation. It was the same day your Uncle Tom was shot. You didn’t turn up to graduation. In fact, you barely left your room after that.
Jake Sully was your father on paper but Tom Sully was everything else.
Your life fell into pieces after your Uncle’s death. You were already on the verge of a mental breakdown and his death was the breaking point.
You glanced back at Quaritch, silent for a moment. “An accident happened.” You murmured. “My Uncle died.”
“And I’m guessing your father didn’t help? He told you to suck it up?”
Yes, those were Jake’s exact words.
“Why are you talking to me, Colonel?” You muttered, fidgeting with your hands.
“I need you to do something for me, pretty.” His face was barely an inch from yours, his lips almost brushing yours. You had the urge to close the gap yet you remained still, waiting. “I need you to keep an eye on Augustine and her team. Can you do that for me?” His hands grazed your collarbones as he rested them on your shoulders. Your breath hitched. You hadn’t been touched so gently in years.
“Okay.” You whispered without thinking.
“Good. If that smart little brain of yours suspects anything, tell me.” He stood up straight.
“I’m not smart, Colonel.” You said as he began to walk away. You watched as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned to look at you once more.
A smirk pulled at his lips. “Oh? Then how come Harvard wanted you so bad?”
It had been days since your last interaction with the Colonel but his words seemed engraved into your head. You softly bit down on your bottom lip, jolting when Norm’s link suddenly opened. “Hey.” He greeted you. He was probably the only nice person to you. Him, Trudy, and Max. Grace didn’t like your presence looming around but she tolerated you. And Jake didn’t bother checking up on you; he wanted you to get settled in by yourself.
“Hi.” You replied, staring at him. You noticed his tired eyes. “Busy day?”
“Yeah. Decided to take a break. You doing alright?”
You silently nodded. Between you and Norm, there wasn’t much to discuss. You knew nothing about Pandora while he seemed to know everything, constantly spewing out knowledge in your face.
“You wanna grab lunch together?” Norm asked but you politely declined. You had already eaten after taking a short nap. Grace said she’d get you some work to do but she never did.
“Hey, Sully.” Another marine soldier whose name you didn’t know called out for you, “The Colonel’s asking for ya. Says he has a job for you.” You were secretly glad to have a task to do. Days on Pandora were so boring.
You scrambled out of your seat, following the Marine into a part of the base you had never been to. You mainly stuck to the science compound where Grace could keep an eye on you.
“Colonel, I got ‘er.” The soldier announced, briefly saluting. Quaritch turned away from Selfridge to look you up and down, nodding.
“Just make her file papers or copy. I don’t care.” You heard Selfridge hiss as he poked Quaritch’s chest and walked away. You felt self conscious standing in a room jam packed of soldiers. They all craned their heads to get a look at you, eyes flickering to your low cut top.
“Here you go, pretty. That’ll be plenty to keep you occupied. Just copy them and I’ll check back with you in an hour.” Quaritch shoved a pile of files into your arms, his hands grazing yours. You blushed at the sudden contact.
“Yes sir.” You squeaked. His gaze remained on your figure, almost scrutinising you before he turned his head.
You admired his side profile, your gaze not so subtly staring at his sharp jawline. He noticed but made no comment. You hurried off, almost crashing into people due to the files covering your vision. Quaritch watched you with an amused glint in his eyes. Oh, you were going to be fun.
You sat in front of the printer, your eyes drooping at its slow pace. You would have fallen asleep had Trudy not interrupted you. “Hey, mini Sully, what’cha doing?!” She ruffled your hair, jolting you awake.
“Printing papers for the Colonel.” You murmured, giving the printer a firm kick when it paused.
“You so bored that you started listening to the Colonel? Ha!” Trudy chuckled as she slung an arm around your shoulder. “Augustine really ain’t making it easy for you, huh?”
You simply shook your head. “She doesn’t seem to like me.”
“Oh, nonsense! She’ll warm up eventually!” Trudy slapped you on the back, leaving you winded. You lowly grunted, almost sent forward by the sudden force.
“Yeah, sure.” You muttered, still not believing the pilot’s words. The room was peacefully silent before Trudy swore under her breath.
“Sorry, babe, gotta fly some more avatars down. Duty calls.”
Her teasing pet name made your cheeks flare up. Somehow the RDA has managed to send the most attractive people to Pandora. You were stuck with the whirring printer as it paused again, clearly struggling. You gave it another kick, forcing it back into action.
“Whoa, slow down, sweetheart. Don’t need ‘cha breaking our equipment.” Quaritch leaned against the doorframe, gaze lazily trailing over you. You were sitting backwards on a chair, arms propped up.
“It’s too slow.” You complained. Though, your voice was quiet. Quaritch had to strain his ears to hear your words.
“Where’s your dad?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Out.” You replied, suddenly feeling bitter at how Jake was almost ignoring you.
“He plans to abandon you.”
You ceased all actions as you slowly turned your head to stare at Quaritch. “What?” You whispered.
Jake wasn’t the best dad, that was for sure. At least, not to you. But you could barely blame him. You were the result of a college hook-up, just another burden forced into his hands when your mother didn’t want you. He liked you at first. He treated you with care.
You were his precious little girl for a brief moment in time. And then you grew up into your own person, almost like a stranger to Jake. You looked so much like him that he seemed to hate it. He hated seeing another copy of him, reminding him of what his life could have looked like had he not lost control in his legs.
Deep inside, you were still his little girl who believed you were his whole world when, in reality, you were the last thing in his mind.
“Said so himself, sweetheart. He can’t look after you, not like this.” Quaritch stepped closer to you, softly tilting your chin up with a flick of his fingers.
You knew your presence made life difficult for Jake but he never complained. Hearing the Colonel’s cruel words was a snap back to reality.
“I suppose it’ll be easier for him…” You muttered, your tongue darting out to lick your dry lips.
“I told him I’d take care of you.” Quaritch muttered as he leaned down, his warm breath hitting your ear. “So don’t get into trouble, sweetheart.” He teasingly tapped your cheek as the corners of his mouth twitched into a sly grin.
You had a feeling that Quaritch wasn’t trying to act as a second father finger as his gaze lingered on your lips for a second too long.
Your theory was proven correct when one night, weeks after your arrival, Quaritch cornered you in the dim kitchen. It was late and you had snuck out of your room to retrieve a cup of cold water. You didn’t even know the Colonel had entered the room until he closed the creaky door behind him.
“Up for a late night snack, sweetheart?” He called out, using your endearing nickname. You stared at him through your lashes as you leaned over to grab a cup from the dishwasher.
“No, sir. Only some water.” You softly replied, never breaking eye contact. In one swift moment, he snatched the fragile cup from your hand and shoved you against the stone-top counter. The edges dug into your clothed back as you merely blinked up at him.
“You’re in my personal space, Colonel.” You said, lightly mocking him. He said nothing as he effortlessly lifted you onto the counter, grabbing your chin with his hand.
“It was easy to ignore those science pukes and my soldiers but you waltz around here in low jeans and cropped tops.” His brows furrowed together in frustration, “I can’t even remember the most beautiful woman I’ve seen because it’s always you in my goddamn mind.”
You tilted your head to the side, adjusting your shirt that was beginning to slow down your shoulder, showing a silver of skin. “I don’t understand, sir.” You murmured. What was the point behind his words?
He leaned in, lips brushing yours but never actually colliding. He seemed to hesitate but the doubt clouding his head vanished when you wrapped your arms around his neck and closed the distance between you.
You were moving eagerly, taking away his ability to breathe. Literally. He had to forcefully pull away to inhale some much needed oxygen to relieve his dizzy head.
You didn’t let him take a break for long. You tugged him forward by his shirt collar, muttering muffled words against his lips. “Don’t leave me, Colonel.” You whispered, tucking your face into his shoulder.
Quaritch pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, dragging out a low sigh from you. You allowed your head to loll to the side, granting him further access. He nipped and sucked on your exposed skin, listening to the quiet sounds slipping past your lips.
From that night on you, were obsessed with Colonel Miles Quaritch and you only drowned deeper into the guilty pleasure each time you shared stolen kisses in the empty corridors.
You barely saw Jake anymore, too preoccupied in keeping Quaritch company. You were sure Lyle Wainfleet, Quaritch’s second-in-command, could hear the squeak of his superior’s bed. Lyle had even caught you sneaking out of the Colonel’s room late at night a few times, hair messy, lipstick smudged, and your shirt barely covering the bruises that lay upon your collarbone. Yet, you didn’t really care and neither did he. Lyle had seen much worse things in his lifetime.
You were lying in your own bed when you heard a knock on your door. Begrudgingly, you crawled out from under your warm blankets and stumbled through the dark.
You opened the door, expecting to see your father, maybe Norm or Trudy, even Grace. You were expecting anybody else but the Colonel himself.
“Sir.” You greeted him. He brushed past you, entering your room without your permission but you let him. You were already closing the door behind you, locking it for safe measures.
“Felt lonely without you.” Quaritch sighed as he fell onto your soft mattress. You could faintly see him beckoning you over through the darkness. “Missed the smell of your perfume too.” As you lay down beside him, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, your perfume hitting him like an avalanche.
You thought he was merely here for sex, like he always was, but he grabbed your wrists when your hands travelled to the waistband of his pants. “Just wanted to see your pretty face and hear your voice.” He uttered, wrapping an arm around your waist.
You felt a warm, giddy feeling seep into your chest as he pulled you close. When had you last been touched so lovingly? Quaritch was so gentle. His hands rested on the curve of your back, thumb rubbing affectionate circles into your skin.
You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, leaning into his warm embrace. For the first time in a while, you felt safe. Quaritch shifted, his arms now wrapped around you as he pulled you close. The lingering smell of his cologne hit you, clouding your mind of every rational thought.
The effect he had on you was dangerous but you loved it.
You were aimlessly braiding Trudy’s hair when Grace stormed towards you. She grabbed you by the shoulder, practically dragging you towards the door. Trudy looked up, confused, but not questioning it.
“Ow! That hurts!” You exclaimed, trying to swat Grace’s hand away. She ignored you.
“Are you out of your mind?!” She hissed, harshly flicking your forehead. “Messing around with Quaritch of all people?”
“How do you know about that?” You didn’t bother denying it.
“Well, he isn’t exactly secret about it. Doesn’t even bother wiping the lipstick marks off his neck. And nobody here wears lipstick apart from you.” She poked your chest, her eyebrows furrowing. “You could do so much better. Why him of all the idiotic people here?”
You silently shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “He makes me feel… loved.” You whispered, lowering your head. You had never been ashamed of being involved with the Colonel but Grace’s judgemental glare suddenly made you feel self conscious.
“He isn’t capable of love, kid! And that’s what you are. You’re like a kid compared to him! There’s plenty of younger marine soldiers.” Grace paused, looking you up and down. “Unless… this has something to do with Jake. If you’re looking for anything resembling a father, you won’t find it in Quaritch.”
Tears glazed over your eyes as Grace said nothing but the truth.
“If you’re looking for stability, protection, and emotional support because your relationship with Jake lacks that, choose someone else. Not Quaritch.”
Your cheeks burned up. You barely understood yourself, but Grace was psychoanalysing you in a matter of seconds. You swallowed hard, your throat tight as Grace’s words cut deep. You wanted to argue against her brutal honesty, but she was staring right through you, her gaze sharp.
"I'm not looking for a father figure."
"Then what are you looking for?" She pressed, her voice softer but still relentless. "Love? That’s not in his arsenal, kid." Grace saw your trembling lips. She sighed gently, "I'm not trying to beat you down. Quaritch has his motives, and whatever feelings you have for him won't change his agenda. Trust me, I’ve seen men like him. They’re good at giving you what you want—until they don’t." Her voice was almost motherly, starkly different from how she usually spoke to you. She never talked to you like that, not with such tenderness, making the truth even more challenging to swallow.
Her words haunted you as she walked away. You felt vulnerable. Grace had peeled away a layer of you that you weren't ready to face. Your chest felt tight as you stumbled towards Quaritch's office, your eyesight blurry with unfallen tears. Grace's voice lingered in the back of your mind, attacking you.
She was right—you knew it deep down. But the ache of Quaritch's attention, his intense affection, felt too good to give up. It was intoxicating, in a dangerous way that clouded your judgment. He made you feel important and seen; it filled the hole in your heart.
The warmth of his presence, the subtle touch of his hand when no one was watching, the guarded smiles he flashed—it was enough to make you forget, even for a fleeting second, how dangerous your obsession with Quaritch could be.
His possessive gaze from across the room always made your stomach somersault. His attention was a drug, and you weren't sure if you had the strength to walk away.
You slowly lifted a hand, hesitantly knocking on his door. "Come in." He gruffly called out. You twisted the knob, gently pushing the door open.
"Hello, sir." You murmered.
He instantly noticed your distressed face and the way your brows creased together. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" He asked, beckoning you forward.
"Sir..." Your mouth ran dry. "Is it true? Do you really view me as a..." You couldn't even finish your sentence. He played with the hem of your shirt, nodding his head to encourage you to continue. "Someone told me you don't care about me."
"Of course I do, princess." He caressed your waist. "Who told you that?"
"Grace." You murmured, kneeling in front of him and leaning your cheek against his knee. He softly stroked your head, bringing you a speckle of comfort.
"Don't listen to those science pukes, sweetheart." He told you, tilting your head up. "They don't know you like I do, baby." His thumb traced the shape of your lips. All your doubts flew out the window as he pulled you up, kissing you.
You peeked into Jake's room, searching for your father. You noticed how his bunk was almost empty, stripped of his belongings. The only thing left was a framed picture of you and him on his nightstand with a short note under it. You knew what the letter meant. He was leaving you all over over.
Suddenly, you were five again, begging your father not to go on another mission because you still wanted- no, needed- his love. You held the photograph of you together close to your chest, your emotions overwhelming you. You didn't even know he still had this picture, let alone kept it beside him while he slept. However, the fact that he had forgotten or purposely left it didn't sit right with you.
Your hands trembled as you removed the picture from the frame, delicately folding it and shoving it into your pocket. You grabbed the note, almost crashing into the wall with how fast you ran out of the room. “Sorry!” You exclaimed as you shoved past two scientists.
You frantically knocked on Quaritch’s door, knowing it was his day off. When he didn’t open it, you started wildly banging your fist against the surface. You even kicked the door a little, almost knocking it off its hinges. “I’m coming! I’m coming! Hold on, fucking hell!” You heard him shout. He angrily opened the door, raising his eyebrows when he saw you.
“My dad. He left.” You blurted out. You felt bad for snitching on your own father but that wasn’t enough to stop you. A part of you would always crave Quaritch’s approval and you knew you’d go to great lengths to prove it. “He left this.” You handed him the note Jake had placed on the nightstand, announcing his abrupt departure with Norm, Grace, and Trudy. As Quaritch’s eyes scanned over the note, you couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder when you heard a quiet groan.
Your heart almost stopped. There was a woman in Quaritch’s bed. All you could see was her brunette hair but you immediately knew it was. Paz Socorro. The marines liked her as much as they liked you. She was beautiful, much closer to Quaritch’s age than you. She was curled into a ball, the blankets softly draped over her undressed form.
Quaritch saw you stiffen but only raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘we weren’t exclusive’. He shoved the note back into your hands and closed the door on you, not even bothering to even utter a word. You stood in front of his room, frozen and shocked. Once you realised he had no intention of speaking to you, you slowly dragged your feet in the direction of your room.
Your body felt heavy as you forced it to move. You were sure you would have fully collapsed when your knees buckled if it wasn’t the person who swiftly caught you. “Thank you.” You murmured.
You barely got to your room in time before everything started collapsing. You slammed the door behind you, slowly sliding down it. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to wipe them away with no avail.
Your father had left you like he always did even though he promised he’d never do it again.
Norm and Trudy, your only two friends, were gone too.
And Grace, who you were beginning to view as a slight mother figure, left with them.
Not to mention Quaritch, the man who your twisted mind claimed to love, had another woman in his life. Grace was right. You should have listened but you thought you knew better.
You felt numb as you crawled into your bed, ignoring your given duties. Selfridge had knocked on your door hours ago, demanding you to file and copy some paperwork, but you tuned his voice out. Nobody except for you knew how to properly work the printer. What a bunch of idiots. Weren’t they supposed to be the smartest and toughest bunch?
Your hair stuck to your flushed face as you buried yourself deeper into the comfort of your blankets. You barely registered the sound of your door creaking open until the dim light from the hallway suddenly flooded in.
“Princess, I promise you she meant nothing.” You heard Quaritch call out into your dark room, “She was just a fling, that’s all. I missed you.”
A part of you didn’t want to believe his words, but as he leaned down to kiss the side of your head, you lost all common sense. You couldn’t resist his sickly sweet words, which made your stomach churn and your heart flutter.
He embraced you, and you let him, knowing there was no point in fighting when you would ultimately lose. You kissed him back as he crawled into your bed, cornering you without a chance to run.
You were tightly wrapped around his finger as he placed you on his lap, your lips never leaving his. You were barely inhaling any oxygen, sacrificing your need to breathe to spend more time pressed up against Quaritch.
Grace was right, but you were already in too deep to remember her words. It was your mistake, really. And you realized that when Quaritch's gentle grip became bruising, and it became impossible to escape his controlling gaze.
Quaritch watched the monitor in anger, staring at Jake’s avatar. His hands clenched into fists as he immediately spun around, searching for the one person who would give him the leverage he needed. You.
He burst into your room. You screamed out of surprise, papers flying everywhere. “Get up, princess.” He yanked you out of your seat, his tight grip enough to bruise your shoulder.
“Where are we going?” You asked, your gaze nervously darting around.
“To get your dad. You know where he is, right?”
You stared up at Quaritch, your lips sealed. Jake had briefly mentioned the location to you in his note, but you had scribbled it out before showing Quaritch the letter. He merely chuckled, leaning down to match your height. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me where he is, and I’ll reward you.” He caressed your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. You leaned into his touch, your mind clouded.
“A reward?” You quietly questioned. “Anything I want?”
Quaritch smirked, “Anything.”
You thought for a moment, thickly gulping. Your eyes darted up to meet his and you parted your glossy lips. “The Hallelujah mountains.” You whispered, almost wishing he didn’t hear you.
“Good job, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you give you want you want when we get back.” He patted your head and you opened your lips to ask what he meant by we. Your silent question was answered when he tugged you towards an aircraft.
“Your dad’s crossed the line. It’s time he remember who he’s fighting for.”
You stiffened as Quaritch suddenly pricked your skin with a sharp knife. He held it against your throat. One wrong move and your blood would be everywhere. The blade dug into your flesh, cutting a thin line. Tiny drops of blood oozed out, staining your white-collar top.
You were scared for your life but you made no attempt in fighting against Quaritch. Because surely he wouldn’t actually slit your throat, right? He loved you too much… at least, that’s what you thought in your mind.
Quaritch, satisfied with your dormant state, slowly slipped the knife back into its holster. He held onto you securely, making butterflies erupt in your stomach. To you, it felt like a loving touch. To others, they knew it was a way of ensuring you didn’t run.
You looked foreign to your father. He hadn’t gazed at you in so long that he forgot what you looked like. He felt a small pang of guilt as he watched the way Quaritch took a step to stand closer to you, too close to be merely acquaintances.
Grace has warned him about the Colonel’s new suddenly interest in you but Jake was too stubborn to listen. Now he realised what she meant. Jake, after years of letting you fend for yourself, had officially lost you. And you had fallen into the hands of a greedy and cruel man.
You stood beside Quaritch as the recording of Jake destroying a bulldozer camera played on repeat. It suddenly paused on a frame revealing Jake’s angry snarl. “You let me down, son.”
You watched the scene with wide eyes. Grace, Norm, and Jake were thrown into a cell for siding with the Na’vi. You turned to Quaritch, tugging on his shirt to gain his attention. “Sir, is this really necessary?” You murmured, glancing at your father.
Quaritch wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you away. “He doesn’t love you, sweetheart. He doesn’t care about you.” He whispered in your ear as he stroked his thumb over your cheek. Your mind instantly believed any lie he shoved down your throat and you slowly nodded. “I’m here. I care about you, not him.”
You blindly trailed after him. You’d walk off a cliff for Quaritch and he knew it. He used your loyalty to his advantage because all it took was a murmur of sweet words in your ear for you to follow him.
You didn’t visit Jake until hours later. You adjusted your top to conceal the marks Quaritch had left on your body. The guard standing in front of the cell nodded in acknowledgment at you before walking off to give you some privacy. You halted in front of the cell, red eyes looking up to meet Jake’s. It had taken thirty minutes for you to stop crying after Quaritch convinced you that Jake wanted you gone.
“Quaritch said you don’t care about me.” You uttered, staring at Jake. You heard the quiet sound of Grace scoffing.
“And you believe him?” She asked.
“You left me. Why wasn’t I allowed to come?” Your brows furrowed. Jake was sitting right in front of you in his wheelchair, wanting to reach out a hand to comfort you but he knew you’d only pull away. His touch felt like hot iron on your skin.
“It was too dangerous.” He muttered, unable to meet your gaze.
You kneeled so that he was forced to lock eyes with you. “Why don’t you love me?” Your words came out as a whisper but when Jake didn’t answer, you grew angry. “Why don’t you love me?!” You reached through the bars, gripping onto his shirt. “You don’t love me! You don’t care about me! Why?! Why don’t you love me?!” You screamed.
Jake couldn’t answer. You leaned your head against the bar, tears rolling down the apples of your cheeks. It felt like you were a child again, crying into his arms about a scraped knee. Only, it was something bigger than that.
You sniffled, your tight grip on Jake’s shirt loosening. “Why are you leaving me for her?” You didn’t even have to say Neytiri’s name. You saw the look in Jake’s eyes when he spoke about Neytiri with Norm and Grace. It was the same way you looked at Quaritch.
After your short outburst, you were ushered away by the guard. Jake could only helplessly stare at your retreating form. You were his little girl and he had let you down.
The last time Jake ever saw you with his human eyes was when he jumped on a plane with Grace, Norm, and Trudy. You had been in the control tower with Quaritch when you heard the sound of a whirring engine. The moment you realised Jake was leaving you for good, you kicked open the door and rushed out without an oxygen mask.
Jake could still remember your teary eyes as you outstretched an arm, silently begging him to come back. You would have fallen over the metal railing if it wasn’t for Quaritch heaving you back. The Colonel swiftly lifted an oxygen mask to your face, forcing you to breathe.
You never saw your father again.
It was clear that Jake’s departure meant war. Quaritch barked orders at his soldiers and pilots with you hot on his heels. He only spared you a glance when you were in the safe confides of his office.
“You know I have to go, sweetheart.” He murmured against your skin. You shook your head.
“Don’t go, please.” With Jake gone, Quaritch was your last lifeline.
“I’ll come back, princess.”
Lies.
“We can start that family you always wanted.”
Lies.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
LIES.
“No, don’t leave.” You whimpered, a futile attempt to convince him to stay with you. “If you leave, that means you don’t love me.” You received no answer. “Do you love me?” You asked, “Or are you lying? I don’t like liars.” Your nails dug into his skin.
“I have to leave, baby.” Quaritch repeated.
You were on your knees in an instant, tugging aggressively on his shirt as you sobbed. It was an exact repeat of what had happened with your father. You were starting to notice a pattern. “Why don’t you love me?! Why are you like him?” You cried. “He left me! And you’re leaving me!”
You had given him everything. Why did he still not return your desperate feelings? Quaritch almost felt bad for you. He flattened out your tousled hair, quietly shushing you. “Princess, stop crying.” He wiped your tears and smeared mascara away.
“Do you love me now?” You whispered, your hopeful doe eyes staring up at him. You were beautiful, even with red eyes and tears streaming down your face. Quaritch hesitated. Would it be going too far to lie about such a thing to you? Especially given your current mental state.
You didn’t wait for him to reply. You forcefully pressed your lips against his, pushing him back into his seat. “I love you.” You murmured in between kisses. You were barely letting him breathe, suffocating him with your presence in hopes it would get him to reciprocate your feelings.
Maybe you were reaching for something unattainable, desperate for a connection in a place that would ultimately kill you. And yet, deep down, you knew this wasn’t love. It wasn’t even affection in the way you craved. It was something darker, but that didn’t stop you from wanting more. Every time Quaritch was near, you let yourself sink deeper into the dangerous game you were playing.
It all dawned on you as you watched Quaritch suit up. He looked handsome in his army uniform but a bitter feeling was still gnawing at you. He was leaving you just like Jake. He was abandoning you just like Jake.
You held onto Quaritch tightly, begging him once more not to go. Selfridge had to pry you off the Colonel as you sobbed and reached out your hands for him. “Why don’t you love me?!” You repeated in a loud screech, screaming at the top of your lungs. “You’re leaving me like him! You don’t love me! You lied to me! You fucking lied!” In anger, you threw your necklace at him. It hit the ground and you didn’t have a chance to retrieve it as you were dragged away screaming and swearing.
You never saw Quaritch again either. Nor Grace, Trudy, Norm, or Max.
Grace was dead. Trudy was dead. Quaritch was dead. You were under the impression that everybody was dead.
You had been forced into a dark room until you called down out of your maniac state, only seeing the light when a hatch opened to deliver you food. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting on the ground for. It felt like days had passed.
You slowly blinked, hands reaching for a gun hidden in the pockets of your cargo pants. You had taken it from your father’s room out of pure curiosity and forgot to return it. It was only loaded with one bullet but that was all you needed.
You pressed the gun against your head, biting down on your lip. You tasted metal in your mouth and it brought you an odd sense of comfort as your finger squeezed the trigger.
Nobody heard the loud gunshot ring through the air as your limp body fell to the side with a loud thud, blood staining the rough concrete floor.
The last time Jake truly saw you was when your dead body was being buried, the image of your bloodied hands engraved in his mind.
AVATAR TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @gruffle1
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conventional stalker yandere x unconventional darling
Just recently, your secret admirer became your not-so-secret pursuer.
Not because he's bad at stalking and hiding, it's cause you straight up open your door and yelled: "Come here and talk to me like a normal fucking person!"
Really, what was he supposed to do? Not answer his love's calling?
Within a few seconds he rolled out of the bush and perfectly stood in front of you.
"My love!" He's jittering with excitement.
"Okay, not bad," You look him up and down to see what you're working with, "what do you have to say?"
"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-"
"Stop!" you put your hand up and he stops, "Nope. This won't work."
His expression turns dark.
"-unless you communicate with me normally."
His expression turns back to normal.
"Since you're pretty cute, I can see this working, but you have to approach and pursue me normally."
He nods but you doubt he listened, because right after you said he's cute he turned red and looked like he was about to combust, smiling ear to ear.
You sigh.
"You look like a puppy."
"I can be your dog anytime!"
"Nope. Nope. Nope." You turn him around and push him a few steps away before you retreat and close your door.
"Tomorrow you're gonna act normal and ask for my number - I know you already have it - at the coffee shop I normally go to, capiche?"
"Yes <3 my love!"
---
Read more, read pt2
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