#and that has clearly eroded

[mollysunder]

The real sign of the inevitable dissolution of Jayce and Viktor's partnership/friendship really was the Progress Day Speech. I've seen people say this scene highlighted the growing shift in priorities between Jayce and Viktor. That Jayce was getting swept up in the limelight while Viktor wanted to keep it humble and stick to the work, and that's wrong.

First thing's first, Viktor does in fact want to go on stage (he was excited to just demonstrate the hexclaw), and Jayce is sincere in that he wants to share the spotlight and credit for hextech with Viktor. The problem in that scene is that for practically 7 years, Jayce has failed to see what's actually going on.

Jayce can't see that his face and only his face is on the mugs, the blimps, and the very banners that decorate the hall he's supposed to give a speech in. Jayce can't see that the Councilors direct all their questions on hextech to him while Viktor sits right next to him. Jayce doesn't notice that Mel, the most perceptive Councilor, still thought of Viktor as Heimerdinger's assistant (she didn't know they were close??!?!). He doesn't realize that the discussion on weaponizing hextech is centered on him rather than between him and his partner. Viktor isn't the one being invited to Piltover's parties for a reason.

Between Jayce and Viktor, they're partners on equal grounds, but to EVERYONE else in Piltover Viktor is practically a non-entity. The only person who doesn't get this is Jayce. It's a testament to Jayce's earnest naivette to think Viktor, as a Zaunite and visibly disabled, would be easily welcomed on stage by Piltover's elite to represent what Piltover has to offer. You'll notice this is the same crowd of people that attend Mel's Gala, the same Gala Viktor wasn't invited to.

This dynamic is insane!?!?! It's unsustainable!!!!! Obviously, Viktor is a grown man and could have mentioned something to Jayce, but also it's at least 7 years, how does someone miss this?!?!

By their last scene of the finale, Jayce was able to give Viktor a voice on the Council by literally standing by his side and giving him a seat at the table, but like peace treaty, the gesture has come far too late, and things cannot return to as they were.

[wormnamedwax]

Blood Sweat & Tears & Welcome to Noxus

so….. are we going to talk about this….

[ms-demeanor]

People say shit like this all the time, but see the thing is right now you're twenty and broke and you don't have any idea what kind of relationships you're going to have in 45 years, whether you became a surrogate uncle to the neighbor's daughter or if you took up a new hobby at fifty and found the love of your life or you've become the volunteer team lead at the library you want to protect funding for.

So you're twenty and broke and you go, it doesn't matter, I'm not going to be alive in 45 years, and if I am and I'm too poor to retire I'll just kill myself. Except you're the neighbor's kid's ride to school and babysitter. You're the one who collected signatures to get the library's hours extended so that people would have someplace warm to go for more of the evening in the winter. You're madly in love with someone who's madly in love with you. So you can kill yourself and let that be your retirement plan, or you can hope that when the neighbor's daughter is out of college she will be able to help you meet ends meet because of your property taxes. Or you have to give up volunteer time because it eats into your hours working at Home Depot. Or your partner has to work longer and harder and delay their retirement, because *you* didn't save because *your* plan was to observe (but certainly not contribute to, because you couldn't even contribute to a savings, let alone a political movement) the overthrow of the global financial system in two generations or to just die.

If this is your attitude i have a few questions:

You're not saving, so clearly you're doing better things with your time and money, so what tangible things are you currently doing to erode capitalism?

Did you happen to be the kind of kid who fucked around and didn't form strong friendships or put an effort in at school because you figured you'd be dead at 20? How's that working out for you?

Do you think it's more arrogant to assume that the world as we know it will be totally upturned in your lifetime, or more lazy to take no responsibility whatsoever in case that doesn't happen?

Fuck off with this shit! You're not forming parallel systems, you can barely muster up the effort to form an opinion.

[luveline]

Hi!! Sometimes in ur bombshell reader fics she talks about how she has nervous energy would u ever write a bombshell reader fic where she has one of those days where she just woke up wired and Spencer tries to calm her down?

“Spencer,” you whisper. 

“What?” 

Spencer turns another page. You, across from him with your legs crossed, slouched, poke at his leg gently with your foot. “What are you reading?” 

“It’s just a book on Wyoming land boundaries.” 

You nod. Spencer watches you from across the top of his book, at first without worry, and then an attentiveness that furthers all the reasons you may or may not be in love with him. 

“You okay?” 

Everything should be fine. The case is solved. You’re heading home, without turbulence, two hours at most from touching down after a job well done. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You smile fraughtly. You try your best to be the perfect image, to put that best foot forward, and you nail it ninety nine days out of a hundred. Nobody knows about your nervousness besides you, and that’s how you’d like it to stay, but Spencer clearly cares about you too much to look away. 

He closes his book and sets in on the table, pushing a glass into his hand. “Here,” he says, leaning forward. “It’s not poisoned.” 

You take it. Feeling his gaze, you drink a little sip that immediately goes down the wrong way. Your coughing swallow perturbs him worse. 

People tend to look at Spencer and see someone who needs more help. Even the people closest to him can doubt his ability, but as far as you’re concerned he’s proven to understand emotion quite well. He won’t shake a stranger's hand, he can’t flirt to save his life without notice, but he can make you feel better. He’s good at taking care of you, even if nobody else can see it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, leaning right over to touch both your knees at once. He pushes your skirt up a half inch with the movement, but his eyes are on your face. “You have the jitters?” 

“Think so,” you murmur. 

“Maybe it’s the air pressure.” 

You’re sure he knows you get like this sometime, but his explanation is kind. His hands on your knees are somehow strangely placed and still a natural feeling. Just like sitting together at his place to watch TV, or elbow to elbow on the train into New York, your boundaries with one another are eroding. 

“Wanna come and sit by me?” he asks, like he’s thinking the same thing. 

You laugh softly. “In all that space?” 

The seat is big enough for a larger person, but not you and Spencer together. 

He squeezes himself right to the side. “Come on,” he insists, sitting back, “just sit with me.” 

“I’ll squish you.” 

“So squish me.”

You think about it before setting your traded glass down. You don’t know why you have these weird moods, you don’t understand what it is about Spencer that can make them feel better, but he’s offering to make it go away. You have no real reason to turn him down. 

In the end, you sit in the chair beside him, ignoring Hotch’s perturbed look as you stand and then quickly plop yourself down at Spencer’s side. Your thigh has to go completely on top of his, but otherwise, it’s not so bad. It’s more room than you thought. 

It works quicker than you could imagine. With both of your heads held back the space between you is still minimal, which means his face is in detail. His hair brushed back and with the barest traces of gel, a little curled, what had Hotch said? His boyband hair.  

Spencer turns toward you, eye shadowed as he presses his forehead to the chair. “Is it just jitters?” he asks. 

“Sometimes I think I get… weird,” you say. 

“Me too.” He pulls your leg further into his lap. You’re shocked at first, but it’s a friendly move that takes the strain off of your knee. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course you can.” 

“I’ve started to care a whole lot less about being weird since I met you.” 

You fight the urge to touch his hair. “I don’t think it’s about caring, Spence, I just.. don’t feel right.” 

“Okay.” He nods sincerely. “Okay, well, we can work it out. We’re still hours from Virginia, you can turn your brain off. We can work it out.” 

You’re relieved to have him promise it. This isn’t the sort of thing you can work out, but it doesn’t matter, Spencer caring this much makes all the difference. You take a deep, deep breath, and you give him a grateful smile, before you rest your cheek on his shoulder. That’s just wanting, no weird feeling or jittering at the root of you as he lets a warm breath kiss your forehead, his nose pressing into your skin. 

“Don’t let anybody see,” you mumble. 

His next breath is a little shaky. “I won’t.”

See what, you’re not sure. But soon you start to feel less like you’re gonna try popping open an emergency window, and that’s enough for now. 

[theskywithin]

Birth Chart Breakdown- Neptune in The Signs

Neptune asks one thing of you: to surrender. But not to fantasy, not to illusion, to truth. Can you see clearly through the fog? Can you hold a dream without being consumed by it? When you learn to navigate Neptune’s tide, you discover the balance between vision and reality, between longing and belonging. And in that balance, you find not just dreams, but destiny.

🔥 Neptune in Aries

You chase the horizon, convinced it holds your name. The fire in your chest is real, but the victory you seek vanishes the moment you reach for it. Neptune blurs your battles, making it hard to tell if you are fighting for something true or just fighting to feel alive. There is beauty in your urgency, but not every war is worth the wounds. Your lesson? Pause. In the silence, you will hear what truly calls you.

🌿 Neptune in Taurus

You dream of hands that never let go, of a world that stays still long enough to be called yours. You seek safety in touch, in possession, in the familiar, but Neptune erodes the edges of what you think you own. Security slips through your fingers like sand, urging you to learn that nothing is ever truly yours except your own presence. Your lesson? Let go. What is meant for you cannot be held, only trusted.

💨 Neptune in Gemini

Your mind is a kaleidoscope, flickering between truths that never settle. You gather words like fireflies, believing they will guide you home, but Neptune shifts the meaning before you can hold it still. There is wisdom in your wandering, but beware the illusion that understanding alone will save you. Your lesson? Silence. In the absence of words, real knowing begins.

🌊 Neptune in Cancer

You dream in memories that never quite belonged to you, carrying the weight of love lost and love imagined. Neptune turns home into a feeling rather than a place, and you spend your life searching for an embrace that exists only in the past. You drown in nostalgia, believing the past was softer than it was. Your lesson? Open your hands. What has left will not return, but something new is waiting to take its place.

☀️ Neptune in Leo

You long to be seen, but Neptune makes you question whether you are looking into a mirror or a stage light. You create to be remembered, to be felt, to leave something behind that proves you were here. But Neptune distorts recognition, it cannot fill what is hollow. Your lesson? Love yourself when the applause fades. The truest stage is the one inside your heart.

🌾 Neptune in Virgo

You dream of a world where every piece fits, where effort creates certainty and order soothes the unknown. But Neptune makes the lines blur, the solutions dissolve, the work feel endless. You chase perfection, only to find it slipping further away. Your lesson? Rest. There is more divinity in imperfection than in anything you could fix.

⚖️ Neptune in Libra

You see beauty in everyone, believing love can heal all wounds. But Neptune makes it easy to mistake longing for love, attraction for destiny. You fall for ghosts, for projections, for the idea of a person rather than their reality. Your lesson? See clearly. Love is not about losing yourself in another, it is about finding someone who lets you be whole.

🦂 Neptune in Scorpio

You crave depth, but Neptune lures you into waters deeper than you were meant to swim. You believe that transformation must be painful, that love must consume you, that mystery is the same as truth. You stare into the abyss, hoping to find yourself, but Neptune reflects only what you want to see. Your lesson? Surface. Darkness is not the only way to find meaning.

🏹 Neptune in Sagittarius

You believe the answers lie somewhere beyond the horizon, that truth is waiting in distant lands or untold philosophies. Neptune feeds your wanderlust, making you believe that movement is progress. But the search never ends, because the thing you seek was never outside you. Your lesson? Stand still. The wisdom you long for is already within you.

🛠 Neptune in Capricorn

You dream of legacy, of achievement, of a life that stands the test of time. But Neptune makes success feel hollow the moment you reach it. You build empires only to wonder why they feel empty. You seek purpose in ambition, only to realize ambition cannot give you purpose. Your lesson? Redefine success. Build something that fulfills your soul, not just your reputation.

🌐 Neptune in Aquarius

You believe in a world that does not yet exist, seeing utopias where others see only limits. But Neptune turns ideals into illusions, making you fall in love with dreams rather than people. You crave connection, yet keep a distance, afraid that intimacy will dissolve the perfection you imagine. Your lesson? Come closer. The world is not perfect, but real love exists within the flaws.

🌊 Neptune in Pisces

You are the dream itself, drifting between worlds, dissolving boundaries between self and universe. You feel everything, sometimes too much, sometimes until it drowns you. Neptune is at home here, and so are your illusions, love that has no shape, faith that has no anchor, art that has no end. You see magic where others see mist, but beware of vanishing into the fog. Your lesson? Stay. The divine is not found in escape, but in presence. Let yourself be here, now, and watch how even the ordinary becomes sacred.

[mythalism]

blah blah thinking about the popular rebuttal to complaints about veilguard's politics being "bioware was never leftist so you shouldnt have expected veilguard to be" which is... interesting.

true, of course. the expectation part i disagree with but thats not what ive been thinking about. im thinking about what made it feel so different to the very similar centrism of da:i. and maybe someone who didnt black out the entirety of veilguard as a cognitive protective mechanism can speak to the specifics but i think ive settled on it being that da:i is undoubtedly neoliberal and centrist just like da:o and da2 before it but despite their clear framing and limitations there was always the encouragement to think and the freedom to do things that the game might condemn narratively as "too radical" but you could at least do them. or say them.

this erodes by the time you get to da:i but in veilguard its absent completely. like making leliana divine or putting briala on the throne, for example. the game presents these options in a very neoliberal and centrist way. the un-softened leliana divine epilogue slide features much of the "radical violence bad!!!!! bad choice!!!!" connotation that all of veilguard has. but you can still do it. briala has incredibly limited power as gaspard's puppetmaster and her epilogue slide similarly slaps the player on the wrist for behaving so radically by putting *gasp* an elf in power resulting in Bad Disruptive Uprisings throughout orlais. but you can do it. hawke can spare anders and let him go. again, the game slaps you on the wrist via character disapproval and the fact he becomes a wandering hermit or whatever the fuck but. you can still let him go. in origins you can make shianni bann and the consequences are disgusting and horrible and writing it that way is literally sickening, but the game lets you do it. origins lets you do a lot of buck wild shit, some decisions less real-world politically coded than others, but you get to DO IT. even if the game and its writers scold you afterwords for getting too disruptive. YOU CAN STILL DO IT.

and this goes the other way too. there is a reason people like greg ellis had a home with dragon age for so many years and his beliefs were able to go under the radar for so long. there is a reason transphobic gamerbros love origins. there is a reason there was backlash to da2's rampant bisexuality. because dragon age let you be leftist about as much as it let you be a racist misogynistic asshole. you can do horrible things in these games. you can quite literally sell people into slavery. templar aligned hawke lets the kirkwall circle get annulled and becomes viscount as a reward for their loyalty. the inquisitor can just execute literally everyone they judge. now, i'll be the first to say that a lot of those options are not nearly narratively condemned enough. bioware has fumbled many a topic in their misunderstood pursuit of "grey morality" that leads them to feel the need to morally equalize situations of clear, unambiguous injustice (cough mage templar war cough). in fact, decisions like sparing anders are often far more clearly narratively punished than things like giving fenris back to danarius, (which kind of just blows over after some approval loss???) and in my opinion that is a writing flaw. i do think RPG games should have choice, and allow players to be evil, but i also think that writers have a responsibility for the message their writing sends to the world. some decisions in dragon age are well-handled. many others recreate and reflect real life racism or misogyny or islamophobia, and reveal the writer's bias against real-life groups of people or political movements. this is the risk of writing stories like these.

but veilguard does not let you do anything. in either direction. ive been calling it a "thought-terminating fantasy cliche" because... it really is thought-terminating. you are not supposed to think about alternatives that may be too radical in the writer's eyes (what if i let anders go instead of face the justice [haha] the game clearly thinks he deserves? what if i install an elvhen puppetmaster on the orlesian throne despite all of my advisors recommendations? what if i support the murder-pope in reforming the chantry through violence and bloodshed?). veilguard has..... what if i save this city over that one? the only one i can think of is saving isseya. are there any others? genuine question. theres nothing to decide and therefore there is nothing to think about. you dont get to think of possibilities past the narrow centrist path presented to you. you dont get to think about an end for solas that doesnt end in jail. you dont get to think about who becomes tevinter's archon and what policies you might like to see them have. you dont make choices between major factions based on ideological and/or practical differences like recruiting mages vs templars. you barely even get to decide anything for the characters, half of the choices are purely cosmetic.

like i feel like theres something to be said for having the choice even if the overall narrative still condemns it. the writer's bias leaks in to the world's reactions to your decisions but you are still allowed to make them. i always intentionally leave leliana hardened because i think radical insane murder-pope who diversifies the church through ASSASSINATION is based. i dont give a fuck if david g/aider thinks its too crazy and tells me so in a thinly veiled epilogue slide reprimand about "the consequences of my actions". idgaf! 1. its a video game and 2. idc what he thinks.

and yes, nothing ever actually changes. dragon age has never allowed you to make radical change within its world even with the decisions that brush up on the possibility. but you can still be someone who believes in the possibility. you can play a mahariel who hates humans and poisons the ashes of their prophet because why should they care when they stole everything from the elves first? you can play a blood-mage circle-abolitionist anders-apologist hawke doing their best to survive in a city where survival and self-preservation sometimes forces them to act against their values. you can play a lavellan inquisitor who refuses to believe in andraste or the maker, advocates for elvhen liberation, and installs an elf on the orlesian thrown despite being forced into the role of figurehead for a religious empire. sure, you cant really actually do anything for the elves, but you can be someone who believes that change should happen. its not perfect. its certainly not some radical revolutionary fantasy nor does literally anyone expect it to be and when people say that its always in bad faith.

bioware has always been canadian liberal centrists and so have their games. but they used to let you get a little fun and crazy and then just reprimand you via epilogue slides or retcons in later games that we all just got to complain about online. but veilguard forces you to roleplay someone else's ideology; a boring centrist status quo loving fantasy with no opportunity to do something different. elven rooks cannot question dorian on tevinter slavery like elven inquisitors could. rook cannot ask lucanis about the child recruitment practices of the crows the way the warden could to zevran. rook cannot ask davrin about the warden's pressure into conscription, joinging and eventual calling the way the warden could alistair or hawke can to anders in legacy. you cannot ask about alternatives or question a single authority or character of any kind. you cannot voice dissent. the dialogue option does not exist. what was once a slap on the wrist in previous titles has become reactionary and preemptive. you wont get slapped on the wrist in the first place because you're stuck in a boring, empty room for after-school detention, railroaded into "good" behavior and confined to one path so you cant get into any trouble on your own. thought-terminating fantasy cliche. it didnt need to be some insane groundbreaking revolutionary work of marxism or whatever the fuck hyperbolic nonsense people are trying to straw-man the criticism into to disprove it as unreasonable. it needed to not advertise itself as an RPG and then force me to roleplay white canadian millenial neoliberal afraid of getting canceled on twitter simulator 4.0 because if i knew thats what i was signing up for i would have respectfully declined and saved my $70 on something that doesnt condescend to me for enjoying bald war criminals and stories about revolution

[searchingforserendipity25]

thinking about lawrence and bellini and how they think they know each other, and they do, but not without the clarity each expects...bellini's 'don't be so naive' comment comes out with such force. he's been holding that between his teeth for years. decades maybe. all the time bellini spent struggling with his ambitions, his resentments.

it's only now during the conclave that will make or break his career and redeem the course of his life, his chance to step up and take up the mantle of the dead friend he is grieving deeply. it's now that it comes out - how much he has been living like a politician.

presenting himself one way, upholding the virtues of justice and humility, enjoying his own flair in throwing down the gauntlet, listing all his ideals and principles.

add: dramatic refusal. add: dramatic exit. performing so well, even his oldest friend cannot see it. cannot see him, for who he is. and so of course lawrence's trust and belief in him cannot be true; but bellini can't help but crumble when it starts eroding.

he is a false icon and a false man. he envies what he sees of lawrence, the doubts he has which are turned towards god and not towards the church (a doubt he shared with the late pope, and can only confess to it through him, even in absence). his self-denial that keeps him safe from ambition, that makes it terribly easy to set aside as competition, makes him safe to rely on.

except lawrence has a courage bellini can't replicate. an ability to respond to circumstances and not merely react and hesitate due to the possible costly outcomes.

because he is brilliant, he can see risks so clearly, he is so deeply aware of the weight in every decision and that hinders him terribly, it is the hubris of the righteous, a self-hating sense of responsibility. who else but him should be pope?

the big test of character he faces is not a scandal with victims or a crime: it is only disappointing a friend, disappointing himself. only that. a very quiet thing happens, behind closed doors, like so many other quiet things.

lawrence breaks the papal seal. he breaks vows and promises and protocol and ritual; he broke faith with the institution they have served together for decades, and so bellini cannot hold faith with him, or the truth he is trying to bring to the light.

the truth does not, then, matter as much as the look of the thing. the risk is too great. oh, it is always too great, for aldo bellini to take.

it is only when he loses lawrence's faith, the last steady old living faith lawrence has, that bellini realizes he does not have it in him to live by integrity. what an ugly thing to know, and to learn from someone renouncing him, the one person he thought would not.

lawrence makes clear bellini's weaknesses, as he does for the rest, and bellini sees him clearly in the light of day after a night of looking at himself, and he is very sorry, and grateful to him, for being the crucible. the least of all evils, and the one who cuts closest to the bone.

he looks at the darkness inside himself and apologizes. so quickly, so simply.

bellini apologizes; he makes amends; he offers supports, upholds the mirror as lawrence did, works towards a better future. it is another day. he is a politician, and it is another day.

when they reconcile he says: it is shameful to live this long and not know himself. and it is then, because he says that, at his prompting, in the example of that peculiar courage bellini has and thinks he does not have, that lawrance admits it. he does have a name scrawled in his heart, a small ambition; he is capable of wanting, even he would rather not.

and still, bellini leads the way for lawrence. in facing his failures to live up to his image of himself, in the possibility not only of regret and shame and struggle for dignity when facing the certainty of defeat (adeyemi) or denial, incomprehension (tremblay) - but in making amends.

lawrence's old trust in him is not baseless or empty, there is love between them still, because bellini is not that good of a politician, it turns out; he doesn't have what it takes to stick it out, to pretend at a thing he cannot be.

he is too true for it. he is brave, only not in the way he sought to be thought of. a quieter thing, less emphatic, more powerful by far. he is so clearly exhausted of himself. pretending at certainty is so much more treacherous and exhausting and dangerous than doubt admitted. and humility, the scholar learns, is the only possible road for knowledge of the self and the other and the world.

don't be so naive thomas. don't be so naive. but in the morning it is bellini asking for the name john, preparing in expectation and hope for his friend the moment he would ask him the term of his papacy after being elected. he asks without resentment, and with a new belief in him, a true understanding.

a reverse-baptism, which never happens, except for how it exists between them. what is the name of your fearful desire, your sin, your hope in the midst of hopelessness, your weakness like my own?

the dangerous ones are the ones who want to be elected. but aldo bellini is the one person who says, everyone wants it. he denies the possibility for false pretenses.

and because it is his friend who speaks of it, not tremblay accusing him of it or benítez offering it freely, but aldo bellini who asks what is the shape and sound of his secret faith in himself, lawrence can admit it.

if he can forgive bellini for it, he has to forgive himself. if bellini can face what sort of man he is, so does he. and he doesn't, of course, forgive himself for it, or give himself much of any grace. but he begins to believe that is it possible others might truly know his doubts and desires, and not look away, or be appealed, betrayed, renounce him for his humanity. bellini doesn't.

they see each other clearly now. they sit on the same bench, apart from the rest of the world, secluded in friendship.

in the script, after the explosion, they walk arm in arm for the last vote.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!

[asha-mage]

Something I've been thinking about a lot since Goldeneyes is Perrin's line "Not a solider among us and yet you are the only one afraid to die" to Padan Fain and how it really captures the Two Rivers broader place as a Vietnam allegory, something that easily could have been lost in the show.

In the books Jordan writes the Two Rivers' struggle with serious parallels to the Vietnam war. A pair of outside forces- the Whitecloaks and the Trollocs- march into a foreign largely rural area both intending to occupy it for their own aims. And while the Trollocs are there out of simple fear and the promise of violence, the Whitecloaks are, in theory, there on the justification of a broader idealistic struggle.

And yet the Whitecloaks face a constant crisis of morale, as the murky politics and unsound tactics of the occupation create doubt, and the increasing violence carried out in the name of vaguely defined goals and uncertain outcomes erodes their sense of moral authority. This is worsened by 'allies' such as Padan Fain, who commit gleeful war crimes of such excessive cruelty they unsettle even the pretty flexible sensibilities of the of the Whitecloaks....while also carrying the official sanction of the Whitecloak leader, and operating nominally towards the same goals. While the Whitecloaks do help against the Trollocs to a limited degree, it is clearly not their intended priority- as Perrin notes their help seems almost accidental, and in a way it is. On the surface their there to fight Shadow, but in reality they are not here for anything of the sort. Both groups are here to try and lure Rand out, for the Shadow so that they can psychologically torment him in the hopes of breaking his spirit, and for the Whitecloaks so that he be used as a pawn in Niall's efforts to unite the Westlands under his rule- which means for the most part terrorizing innocent people and focusing on inconsequential battles like book banning and hunting Aes Sedai, instead of doing anything meaningful to actually help anyone. Dain ultimately realizes this (or at least enough of it) which is the root of his crisis of faith, which he resolves mostly by drinking and tormenting himself, because this runs so counter to what he has been raised by his father to believe about the Children of the Light and their purpose.

It's also this combination of factors that leads to the Two Rivers uniting under Perrin- who carries out what amounts to a guerilla war against the Trollocs and the Whitecloaks both. Using superior knowledge of the terrain and a quickly constructed network of support from farmers and other locals, Perrin launches a series of highly successful ambushes and raids meant, not to win any open battles, but to inspire fear and make the task of actually holding the Two Rivers impossible for either group.

And this works because ultimately the Whitecloaks aren't committed to the conflict. It's one thing to use the threat of force to bully small groups into compliance- it's another to take and hold miles of farmland and in the face of popular opposition- common men and women who want nothing more then to be in left in peace and live their lives. It's a bloody, draining mire that saps the morale of the Whitecloaks, even despite their deeply ingrained indoctrination, and in Dain's case even begins to erode his faith in the ideals the Children stand for. Their not there to bring the Light to the Two Rivers, their there because of a calculation made in a room none of them have set foot in- a piece on a chess board carelessly tossed out without regarding for their humanity, to do bloody work judged necessary by a politician with an agenda utterly divorced from the lived reality of the people he is presiding over.

The Two Rivers folk have everything to loose and as a result nothing to fear. They will never stop struggling, and ultimately the Whitecloaks and the Trollocs can not outlast their determination- they fear dying more then they want whatever there is to gain out of scouring the Two Rivers.

[maymeteorite]

obligatory post before acheron's release

obviously, it's established that acheron is a variant of raiden mei. her real name is not actually acheron (confirmed through the livestream, but...come on, we all already knew that). specifically, there's loads of similarities in her design to the herrscher of thunder above all else

similar hair structure, hair part, n hairpiece (n obviously the color, too),

sword structure, patterns, n nearly identical handles,

one "red" arm,

the bust/halter,

and of course, the color scheme as shown in acheron's "emanator" form, n the horns shown in the livestream

with all that in mind, i imagine acheron is a variant of mei who failed to save the person closest to her (her kiana, to simplify it), n/or watched them die, or even killed them herself. it's shown during her dance with black swan that there was obviously someone important to her in her past, conflict arose in a setting much like the one featured in the livestream, n there's even imagery of her walking alone with only the moon in the sky to keep her company

kiana has been associated with the moon n moon imagery since the flyme2themoon days; her origin was quite literally a game about blasting off to the moon

this teaser resembles thunders over nagazora to me, as well as mei watching kiana's end in honkai gakuen

there's also the fact that the type of emanator acheron is, an emanator of nihility, is classified as a self-annihilator; those who have felt the pull of nihility n been unable to escape drowning in it. self-annihilator's take the meaning of nihility to heart, so much so that it erodes their bodies n memories

acheron has been confirmed as the self-annihilator type in her character introduction posted recently. what really strikes me about this line is the phrasing of "existence is nothing"

sounds familiar, doesn't it?

mei is characterized by the tragedies in her life, n how they impact her. growing up isolated, a kidnapping at a young age, bullying at school, suicidal tendencies, n the constant reminder that the girl she loves more than anything in the world will always put the overall well being of humanity over herself

to me, acheron is a mei shaped by loss. the mei we remember from hi3 had the chance to grow n change; to learn from her mistakes, n to fight for a better world, bc she had the support of her friends n her most important person. acheron doesn't seem to have that level of support from anyone, at least not anyone still in her life currently

which brings me to my next point. she HAD a "kiana," but ultimately lost her. n this is the result

acheron is incredibly powerful, but her power seems incredibly volatile. she carries this innate sadness with her wherever she goes, n the very path she walks n the very aeon she became an avatar of strips life of all meaning, all the beauty from the world

it's a far cry from the mei we know, bc clearly, there was a very pivotal change in her development that i can only attribute to the loss of her world's "kiana"

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Is Caine actually bad at making adventures?

So far it's been hard to tell if the players actually enjoy the adventures. I mean, Zooble clearly doesn't but they also say that it doesn't have anything to do with the adventures themselves. Their breakdown of what the other characters think of the adventures I think is mostly accurate as well.

But again, how much of this has to do with the adventures themselves? Not a lot, I'd wager. The players are trapped in a digital realm. They have no way out. They forgot their very names, and I assume they don't remember most of their past lives, but the memories still echo around them. It's a maddening circumstance to be in, and adventures can only do so much.

That doesn't completely answer the question of if Caine is good at making adventures though. He can be given and impossible task AND still be quite bad at it, after all.

Pomni's line of "What time period is this supposed to be again?" and Kinger's "Wait how did he record this if he's already in hell?" point to the adventures having plot holes and kinda incongruent elements that are distracting. So...yeah, his current adventures are kinda jumbled in terms of plot and world-building.

But here's the thing...I think he used to be good at it. But the constant failures (or what he would see as failures) eroded his confidence, for lack of a better term. The engaging, well-thought out stories and worlds weren't cheering up the players as much as they were supposed to. He's exhausted all his ideas for good stories and gotten barely more than a lukewarm "Well that was fun I guess". He doesn't understand that no amount of fun adventuring can truly take away from the horror of being trapped in the digital realm.

So he gives the Max Max vehicles a candy aesthetic and puts them in medieval candyland, because why not at this point? It's worked just about as well as anything else. Maybe he notices that stark visual differences get called out as immersion-breaking pretty quick, so as long as the general looks of the art assets are congruent, maybe not much else matters? And half the time the adventurers seem to not even care about the plot or lore, so who really cares how he recorded the message from hell? Just drag em to hell! It'll be exciting!!

He used to be good. But in a way, the lack of enthusiasm from the players, which has nothing to do with how good the adventures actually are, is making it hard for him to determine what works and what doesn't. He was supposed to find commonality in the adventures the players enjoyed most and build on that. But their reactions are so lukewarm he doesn't have anything to build on, so he desperately throws together new combinations in hopes of getting a reaction. The adventures are getting worse but the players don't really care about them enough to react to that.

He was given an impossible task, and his lack of success is slowly driving him mad.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Gaze (III)

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

Yandere John Wick x Reader

Part II Part IV

Warning: None

The GIF does not belong to me; credit goes to the original owner.

Unedited

You are already moving. His hand rests on the small of your back as he leads you towards a coffee shop across the street. He smells familiar, he feels familiar, yet so far away. It is like his hand has been on you many times before.

You try to shake off the unease, but it clings to you, stubbornly taking you back to every other wee hour you woke up in your room and smelt the faint version of the cologne that surrounds you now. It blankets your senses, good, bad and striking.

It doesn’t even make sense. How would he even be in your room? Why would  he—

“What would you like to order?”

You are not sure if you are going mad, but you are certain that you can drown in the pair of hazel browns in front of you.

“Iced mocha would do.” Dropping your gaze to the menu has more to do with an attempt to collect yourself than deciding what to order.

Iced mocha is your go-to.

“Of course,” his eyes twinkle, or maybe it is the light, but you have no excuse to question the smirk, “Let me place the order.” He nods before rising from his seat and walking away.

You are relieved, having some room to breathe and collect your thoughts. This is spiralling out of control. This…fascination. Yes, you must have been mistaken. You are too enamoured with that classic art to let go and move on.

You are standing. You are unable to move, standing still where you do not belong. Although he has been kind, you know his arms are meant to wrap around one of the golden nymphs present at that party. They carry themselves with the ease that comes with familiarity. They belong to that place, to his world.

You shake your head, feeling pathetic. Yeah, you need to get laid. Pining over this man is just asking for heartache. He is a woman’s dream on legs and comes with an invisible tag of ‘heartbreak’.

John Wick. That’s his name, you find out while both of your cups sit steaming on the table. He is quiet, and while he might come off as intense, there is an endearing awkwardness to his mannerisms. Not the kind that comes from wanting to impress anyone—he clearly does not even have to try. It is the kind that comes from a person who tries to steer clear of social gatherings as much as he can. Someone who is in love with his solitude and lives at the periphery while being rooted in the centre. He has to go back every now and then, but he is content with a quiet life.

He listens more, prodding more about you than answering clearly about himself. While this is the first time you are speaking to him about yourself, the way he nods and adds to things with a questioning tone that comes off as an afterthought makes you feel scrutinised. Like he is testing a theory, something he already knows.

You are undeniably attracted to him, so much so that you secretly pray that he is blind to it and you do not make a fool out of yourself.

But there is an unease that settles in. You try to wrap yourself in the rosy haze again, but the veil does not cover you completely. Ever since his cologne hit your nose and you felt the uncanny familiarity, your nerves refuse to be at complete ease. The fascination is slightly eroded now.

Sure, you are at unease, but it clashes with the slow burn of desire within you. There is no use denying something that you know will claw its way out if it has to, to get your attention and acknowledgement. It is like a ghost settled within you. It is foreign because you have never craved anyone like you crave him. It churns like something rich and delicious. If you were to write about him now, it would be nothing but your desire penned on paper.

He insists on driving you home but does not step out, only glances at the building before meeting your gaze as you thank him after closing the car door shut.

“It was nice to speak to you.”

That is all he has to say with mirth in his tone before he drives off, while your shoulders sag, realising the thin possibility of seeing him again.

[daydreamingoveracupofcoffee]

Pleaze PLEASE P L E A S E writte more content about aizawa, ure so great at it! Please, whenever u can!

"The cat's dad"

Aizawa trudges through the door of their shared apartment, his capture scarf draped loosely around his shoulders and his eyes heavy with the weight of a long day at U.A. High. The faint scent of coffee and catnip lingers in the air, a sign that [reader's name] been home for a while. Before he can even kick off his boots, he hears her voice—bright and teasing—from the living room.

“Hooray, papa’s back!” a woman chirps, holding up their sleek black cat, Kuro, whose yellow eyes blink lazily at Aizawa. She lifts the cat higher, pressing its soft cheek against Aizawa’s scruffy one in a playful nuzzle. Kuro lets out a half-hearted “mrrp”, clearly more interested in the warmth of women's arms than the reunion.

Aizawa freezes mid-step, one eyebrow twitching upward as he processes the scene. Papa? His gaze flicks from women's mischievous grin to the cat, who’s now squirming slightly but not enough to escape her hold. He exhales through his nose, a mix of exasperation and resignation.

“Really?” he deadpans, his voice low and gravelly, as he drops his bag by the door. “You’re making me the dad of that freeloader?” He nods toward Kuro, who yawns as if on cue, exposing tiny fangs.

The woman laughs, undeterred, and cradles Kuro like a baby, rocking the cat gently. “Oh, come on, Shota. Our child is perfect. Look at this face!” She holds Kuro out again, this time angling the cat’s unimpressed expression toward him.

Aizawa stares at the cat, then at the woman, his lips pressing into a thin line to suppress the faintest hint of amusement. He’s not one for cutesy antics, but her energy has a way of wearing him down, like water eroding stone. Plus, Kuro does look annoyingly content in her arms—more than when Aizawa’s the one scooping up the cat after a late patrol.

“Perfect at stealing my spot on the couch,” he mutters, brushing past them toward the kitchen. But as he passes, his hand grazes Kuro’s head, fingers lingering just long enough to scratch behind the cat’s ears—a small betrayal of his affection. The woman catches it and smirks, following him with Kuro still in her arms.

“Admit it,” she says, leaning against the counter as Aizawa pours himself a glass of water. “You love being papa to our little family.”

He shoots her a sidelong glance, his dark eyes narrowing. “Call me that again, and I’m giving the kid up for adoption.” His tone is dry, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward, barely perceptible.

She gasps dramatically, clutching Kuro to her chest. “You wouldn’t dare! Kuro’s our precious child!” The cat, unbothered, starts licking its paw, clearly indifferent to the mock custody battle.

Aizawa sets his glass down, turning to face her fully. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing grumble. “Keep this up, and you’re sleeping on the couch with ‘our child’ tonight.”

The woman sticks out her tongue, but her eyes sparkle with laughter. She sets Kuro down, and the cat immediately trots over to Aizawa, weaving between his legs with a soft purr. He glances down, betrayed yet again by the cat’s timing, and sighs.

“Traitor,” he mumbles under his breath, but he bends down to scoop Kuro up, holding the cat against his chest as he heads for the couch. The woman follows, plopping down beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“See?” she whispers, poking his arm. “Perfect little family.”

Aizawa doesn’t respond, just lets Kuro settle in his lap as he leans back, eyes half-closed. But his hand rests lightly on [reader's name]’s knee, a quiet acknowledgment that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t mind this ridiculous setup as much as he pretends.

[inbarfink]

Okay, so, I know this is kind of a Stupid Thing to Focus on but… I’ve been rewatching ‘Friends Forever��� (still one of my favorite and most complex and most heart-wrenching Ice King episodes) and I’ve been thinking about the bit where Ice King tries to research how to be smart…

We can see him reads from what very much seems to be part of Simon Petrikov's journals. Considering that it details the aftermath of the Mushroom War.

In addition, while the shelves are made of ice, much like the bookshelves Ice King has in his throne room, this is clearly a much... robust archive

which much more resembles Simon Petrikov’s library/research room.

The table IK uses also seems to be a match to the one in the research room. At least in terms of colors

So, it might be a different Room Full of Books that Simon placed in his Castle before he truly 100% lost it, or it might be the same one we see in 'Betty' but with a minor continuity error when it comes to what the shelves are made from. Either way, from the aforementioned journal, we know this library probably contains books Simon had personally written

But considering the Amount, probably not all of them. (Especially if you assume there are two separate library rooms). Maybe he came back to his old house to gather up all the prewar academic books he owned, but that still seems like an Unusually High Amount of Books. I think he probably kept gathering and writing books as he was slowly turning into Ice King. Like, by the time the show started he was basically totally gone - but a couple hundred years ago he’d have brief moments of lucidity and start writing again or searching books that could help him deal with the curse.

Which makes me wonder about this book.

I know that it’s just a silly funny joke, but…

Like, a Big Undertone of ‘Friends Forever’ is Ice King’s insecurities and frustrations with his own stupidity and lack of maturity. And with Simon’s library showing up in the middle of the episode like it did, it’s hard to forget that Simon used to have the intelligence and maturity needed to speak with all of these living furniture on equal terms, but his mental facilities have been eroded by the madness of the Crown and now he can’t and these frustrations manifest even though Ice King isn’t fully aware of that fact.

And this book, I know that the title just playing directly into Ice King’s insecurities is just the Joke but also…

I’m thinking about Ice King/Simon when he was a bit more lucid. Aware that he’s going mad and it's getting harder and harder for him to think clearly and that makes it so much harder to find a solution and expressing a lot of that same anger that Ice King expresses outwards towards the Living Furniture - inwards.

I’m wondering if Simon specifically sought out that book because he felt like he was ‘turning dumb’.

I’m wondering if Simon could’ve written this book. Some sort of last final act of impotent rage against the person he was turning into, frustration at his growing inability to think like he used to, even though he couldn't even remember his own name anymore - only that he was the 'Smarty McBrainypants' part of his old identity.

That would explain why it’s such a worn and rugged book...

[tzifron]

I’ve been rereading the late anthropologist David Graeber’s Bullshit Jobs, which persuasively makes the case that the corporate world is happy to nurture inefficient or wasteful jobs if they somehow serve the managerial class or flatter elites—while encouraging the public to harbor animosity at those who do rewarding work or work that clearly benefits society. I think we can expect AI to accelerate this phenomenon, and to help generate echelons of new dubious jobs—prompt engineers, product marketers, etc—as it erodes conditions for artists and public servants.

A common refrain about modern AI is that it was supposed to automate the dull jobs so we could all be more creative, but instead, it’s being used to automate the creative jobs. That’s a pretty good articulation of what lies at the heart of the AI jobs crisis. Take the former Duolingo worker who was laid off as part of the company’s pivot to AI.

“So much will be lost,” the writer told me. “I was a content writer, I wrote the questions that learners see in the lessons. I enjoyed being able be creative. We were encouraged to make the exercises fun.” Now, consider what it’s being replace with, per the worker:

“First, the AI output is very boring. And Duolingo was always known for being fun and quirky. Second, it absolutely makes mistakes. Even on things that you would think it could get right. The AI tools that are available for people who pay for Duolingo Max often get things wrong—they have an ‘explain my mistake’ tool that often will suggest something that’s incorrect, sometimes the robot voices are programmed to speak the wrong language.”

This is just a snapshot, too. This is happening, to varying degrees, to artists, journalists, writers, designers, coders—and soon, perhaps already, as Thompson’s story points out, it could be happening to even more jobs and lines of work.

Now, it needs to be underlined once again that generative AI is not yet the one-size-fits-all agent of job replacement its salesmen would like it to be—far from it. A recent SalesForce survey reported on by the Information show that only one-fifth of enterprise AI buyers are seeing good results, and that 61% of respondents report a disappointing return on investment for AI or even none at all.

Generative AI is still best at select tasks that do not require consistent reliability—hence its purveyors taking aim at art and creative industries. But all that’s secondary. The rise of generative AI, linked as it is with the ascent to power of the American tech oligarchy, has given rise to a jobs crisis nonetheless.

We’re left at a crossroads where we must consider nothing less than what kind of jobs we want people to be able to do, what kind of work and which institutions we think are important as a society, and what we’re willing to do to protect them—before the logic of generative AI and the jobs crisis it has begotten guts them to the bone, or devours them altogether.

[littlefireball]

ᴡʏ|ꜰᴀᴛᴀʟ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴍ)

ꜱɪʀᴇɴ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ᴘɪʀᴀᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ| ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛ| ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴍᴀᴛᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.4ᴋ

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ꜱɪʀᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ:

ꜱɪʀᴇɴ'ꜱ ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴʟʏ.ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ꜱɪʀᴇɴꜱ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ꜱᴏʟᴇʟʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.ꜱɪʀᴇɴꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ.

"Sirens' beautiful voice is like a heavenly melody, graceful and captivating. Its sound resembles the clear waves from the depths of the sea, like the sound of ripples hitting the rocks, filled with mysterious and charming rhythms.

Every time they sing, it's like a magical spell, intoxicating and mesmerizing. A magical incantation, immersed in false happiness and beauty, constantly wanting to delve deeper into the enchanting melodies.

In the end, sailors who are attracted by the song will lose themselves, allowing their bodies to be swallowed by the dark ocean, disappearing into the endless abyss."

As a crew member read out the contents of the old book, the story described in it shocked all the sailors present, creating an atmosphere of unease in the air.

"Where did you get this book?" you asked curiously, playing with the old pocket watch in your hand, curious about the origin of the water-damaged and dilapidated book.

"I found it randomly, just in that chest." The crew member pointed to a wooden box filled with various books. The books had water stains and were worn out, and the wooden box had faded due to the erosion of seawater, losing its original luster and now only displaying a dull vintage color.

"This is just a scary children's story." You scoffed at these unsubstantiated 'stories,' believing that they were strange fabrications made by people in the past to prevent others from going to sea.

"But captain, this story sounds so real…"

"Have you seen them? We've gone to sea so many times, yet we've never heard those so-called songs."

"I swear I have actually heard them!"

"Then why haven't you died yet?" Irritated by their words, you straightforwardly dismissed their baseless statements, clearly showing impatience on your face.

"If you have so much time here to read stories, why don't you go and find some treasure?" Hearing this, the others immediately got to work, leaving the ancient books on the wooden box.

"Boring."

Your gaze fell upon the ship stranded on the shore. It looked completely dilapidated, covered in weathered marks and worn-out wooden textures. The once magnificent painted exterior of the ship had been eroded and damaged over time, revealing a dull wood color and decayed parts.

Part of the ship's deck and stern had cracked due to long exposure to wind and rain, exposing the inner support structure. The sails were dirty, torn, and useless, with some masts tilting and others even breaking halfway.

As you looked at the scene, thinking about the story of the siren, you couldn't help but wonder if the ship had met its demise because of them. Ha~ how could you have such thoughts when you had just scoffed at those stories earlier? Why do you suddenly believe now? Your own mysterious thought process is quite ridiculous.

"How is that possible?" You mocked your unrealistic thoughts, not dwelling on them further, and continued to search the ship for any remaining treasures. You were the only woman on board, also the highest-ranking captain. Since childhood, you had been 'hunting' with your father at sea, searching stranded ships for supplies or treasures, and sometimes finding unexpected treasures.

However, your mother did not approve of you going to sea, especially after your father died in a sailing accident. She feared that you would end up like him, attacked by sirens and buried at sea. You didn't believe in all this talk about sirens. They were just legends. Maybe in your heart, you still refused to admit the fact that he had died a long time ago, which was why you resist anything related to sirens.

"Reporting, captain. We only found these few pieces of jewelry, no other valuable items." You nodded, instructing them to safely store the treasures they found.

"Board the ship! Prepare to set sail!"

As night falls, the moon hangs brightly in the sky, giving off a fascinating moonlight. The sea breeze blows gently across your face, soothing your body and mind. You sat on the deck and enjoyed the moment of relaxation, admiring the endless horizon in front of you.

"How would you say it would be great if someone could sing?" One crew member lamented."Yeah, it would be better if there were beautiful women dancing here." Another man chimed in, hoping that there were beauties to cheer them up and add a little fun to their boring sea life.

It seems that their wishes have been heard by the God of the Sea. A beautiful tone of music came from nowhere, the unique voice full of power, yet gentle like a soft thread, gently stroking the heartstrings.

"A cold wind blows in my frozen heart, When I lean on a small candle, And hold back my tears" (ATEEZ-be with you)

"Wow!What a beautiful voice."

"Yes! Maybe the God of the sea heard our wish! It goes so well with this beautiful scenery." The crew couldn't help but admire this exquisite female voice, and echoed one after another. All the crew members unconsciously indulged in this heavenly sound.

On the contrary, while listening to the melodious music, instead of being lost in it, your doubts arose. "Where does the female voice come from?" There was only one woman on the ship, and you hadn't been singing, let alone having such a wonderful voice. Driven by curiosity, you couldn't help but explore the truth, but the strange sight in front of you surprised you.

The crew, who had lost consciousness, gradually approached the edge of the ship and jumped into the dark sea uncontrollably. The ghostly hands reaching out from underwater dragged their bodies, making them disappear directly into the abyss.

"What…?" Your heart tightened suddenly, and dark shadows appeared in your vision. You helplessly felt fear devouring you. "Are those sirens?! No!!" Despite the fear, your responsibility as the captain reminded you not to sit idly by. You took out the handgun from your pocket and without hesitation, fired at the monsters emerging from the water's surface. Screams of agony rose and fell, and the nauseating smell of blood made you sick.

"What happened? Why weren't they controlled?" The sirens underwater were puzzled. They had never failed before, and it was impossible for anyone to be immune to their singing… unless…

"Is there a woman?"

"A woman? I never thought there would be a woman as a pirate~" Wooyoung swung his fishtail below and swam from beneath the water to underneath the ship, curious about who fired the gun. Throughout history, sailors have predominantly been men, with only a very small number of women, because humans always believed that the presence of women would bring misfortune to a fleet. That's why most sirens are female, and their songs only have an effect on men. Due to this, there are only a few male sirens, who exist solely for reproduction.

Hearing about the presence of a woman made Wooyoung excited and curious. Since he was born, he had only seen photos of human women from the belongings of stranded crew members, and had never encountered a real woman. Although the sirens grew legs during their breeding season, they were still different from human women. He wanted to know what women were really like.

"Fuck!" The bullets were about to run out, but the enemies were increasing. Continuing like this, you couldn't hold on. You desperately grabbed the sleeves of the crew members who wanted to jump into the sea, preventing them from approaching the edge of the ship. But it's too hard to grab them all; stopping one couldn't stop the others, and you could only watch helplessly as another companion perished.

"What should I do… can I only use the cannon?" You knew that firing the cannon was the only way to escape from this predicament, but it meant killing your own comrades. As you pondered, another voice sounded, but this one was relatively deep, powerful, and magnetic - it was a male voice.

"Everything in this world, Hurts so much by your side, Can I come over? Can I do that? Can I hug you?"

His voice was melodious and enchanting, like a gentle breeze that lightly touched your soul, causing you to completely immerse yourself. The hands that had been gripping the crew members' sleeves became weaker, and in the end, your fist loosened, allowing the crew members to jump into the sea. Your feet uncontrollably walked to the edge of the ship, with empty, lifeless eyes, as if the flame of life had gone out.

Wooyoung had a victorious smile on his face, extending his hands to entice you to jump into the water, but unconsciously, he stared at your beauty and became fascinated. You were bathed in the gentle moonlight, like a graceful and beautiful flower, your long hair floating in the breeze, intoxicating. Wooyoung had never seen such a scene before, and for a moment, he was captivated.

Without a moment's hesitation, you jumped into the water, the sound of the water hitting the surface pulling him back to reality. He quickly held onto your sinking body, his hands grasping your neck tightly, wanting to accelerate your suffocation. But in his mind, the scene from just now flashed again, your elegant posture making him lose focus, and your captain's uniform piqued his curiosity about your story.

What's your name? Why do you become a captain? Why do you appear on a ship? Do you have no webbed? What does it feel like to kiss a human…even have sex?

Curiosity compelled him to let go of his murderous intent and gradually release his hand from your neck. But the merciless seawater had already taken away your breath, and your heartbeat felt weak as if it would stop in the next second.

"No… no…" he cried sadly, not wanting you to die like this. He wanted to know everything about you. His scaled hand gently caressed your face, lifting your chin. Without hesitation, he directly kissed your already pale lips. Anyone kissed by a merman could gain the ability to breathe underwater. Your lips touched lightly, warm and tender. You felt a soft sensation from your lips, and then your whole body seemed to float in the water. Oxygen returned to your lungs, and you could breathe again.

You slowly opened your eyes and found the man in front of you kissing you. Surprised, you wanted to break free but he tightly held your wrists, restraining your movement. He left your lips, pleasantly surprised that you had awakened. He smiled satisfactorily and said, "Let me take you back."

Without waiting for your reaction, he carried you in his arms and swam directly into the distance. You were amazed that you could breathe underwater, feeling the gentle and powerful waves passing through your body, a wonderful sensation you had never experienced before. Unconsciously, you held onto his shoulders, pressing against his chest, feeling the only warmth in this cold seawater.

In no time, the two of you arrived back on the shore. His fish tail transformed into legs the moment it touched the land, and droplets slid along the lines of his legs onto the ground. He gently placed you back on the ground and as he looked at your face again, he became captivated once more. Despite being soaked from head to toe, you still appeared so captivating in his eyes.

"You…" Too much information flooded your mind, making it difficult for you to organize your thoughts at the moment.

"I am Wooyoung." Without hesitation, he told his name, imitating human etiquette and extending his hand towards you.

"Y… Y/N. '' Maybe because your brain wasn't functioning properly yet, you involuntarily said your name and shook his hand, covered in scales.

The soft touch of your hand was different from other sirens. There were no hard scales on it, not even the slippery texture that fish usually have. Moonlight shimmered in your eyes, sparkling like starlight, proud and radiant, incredibly enticing. Once again, he examined your attire with curiosity, his curiosity like a string gently plucked by your mysterious aura, immediately bursting into infinite passion and interest.

Everything about you was like a book full of mystery and puzzles, waiting for him to read one by one. Every action, every detail, every expression of yours fascinated him more and more, making him increasingly captivated and unable to escape. As the nature of a male siren gradually revealed itself, his once innocent curiosity turned into evil desire. He didn't just want to know your name, your experiences, your story, but he wanted to know everything about you, to have you completely.

"You are so beautiful, so stunning." He approached you even closer, bending down to maintain eye level with you. His voice was deep and magnetic, like an ocean far away from the world, full of temptation.

"I want you, Y/N." Without giving you any chance to resist, he once again sang a beautiful melody. His words came slowly, like poetry, beautiful and captivating, irresistibly seductive.

With the sound of the song, you once again lost consciousness, letting him take off your clothes, leaving only your wet underwear. The deep and magnetic voice made you indulge in his temptation, unable to resist.

Your skin, unlike the magnificent scales of a siren, was instead pure and delicate, like smooth porcelain, flawless. Under the effect of moonlight, droplets of water on your skin reflected a faint glow, radiating a charming luster, inviting one to touch.

"Oh god, you are really pretty." He lifted your chin, kissing your lips. Unlike the gentle touch earlier, this kiss hid dangerous desire behind it. Lips slowly sealed together, a warm sensation spreading slowly, the friction between tongues making Wooyoung unable to hide his smile. You also responded to his kiss, sucking on each other's lips, occasionally lightly biting each other's lips, alternating between gentleness and strength.

Your hands involuntarily roamed each other's bodies, feeling the ups and downs of each other's bodies. Fingertips brushed over every inch of skin, igniting a burning desire, embracing each other closely, rubbing against each other. His hand glided over your waist, directly caressing your buttocks, the soft touch driving him crazy, occasionally squeezing; his other hand touched your chest, tracing the contours of your nipples in circles.

Your lips never separated, becoming even more frantic, tongues soothing each other. He extended his tongue directly into your throat, wanting to explore everything about you, to taste all your sweetness.

"Ummmm…" You couldn't help but feel a slight nausea, emitting a muffled sound. But your voice didn't stop Wooyoung, instead making him more intense. To him, you were his siren. His firmness couldn't bear it any longer, he urgently needed to enter your body - to mate, he wanted to mate.

"Ride me." Each of his words held a kind of magic, completely enchanting you. He lay on the damp and uneven ground, the sensation of sharp stones pressed against his back slightly discomforting, but he wanted to watch your body as he fucked you.

"Have a seat, babe." You took off your underwear, aiming for his erect member, slowly sinking down. The initial coolness immediately wrapped in heat as you entered, causing you to let out a captivating moan. As you sat down, the sharp stones beneath Wooyoung's body pressed deeper, leaving red imprints, but that didn't deter his desire to fuck you.

You supported yourself on his shoulders, beginning to bounce up and down. "Oh gosh, it feels so good!" He groaned, feeling his cock reach its deepest point as it touched every inch of your skin. The friction between his shaft and your vagina brought heat that made him more excited. Your wet walls wrapped tightly around his cock, each sucking motion stimulating his sensitive nerves.

"Fuck!" The pleasure beneath him fascinated him, he caressed your body, touching your breasts. Not knowing how to remove the bra, he tore it open from the middle, leaving the cups hanging on either side of your chest, swaying with your movements. He cupped your breasts, feeling their softness, occasionally massaging with his thumb.

"ahh~ahh~" The stimulation all over your body gave you goosebumps, every inch of your body bursting with countless sparks. Wooyoung's touches gave you endless pleasure, awakening all your senses, craving his caress.

"Louder, Y/N. I want to hear your voice."

"Ahhhh~fuck~" You released a scream from your throat, which reverberated against the walls of the cave, echoing throughout. "I can't get enough of you." He sat up straight, once again holding your face, lips tightly intertwined, the passionate kiss filling the air with sparks. Your lips and tongues twined and explored, releasing endless desire and passion.

He pressed down on you directly, this time it was your back against the rough stones, the slight pain making you slightly more awake. "ahh~wooyoung" When his name left your mouth, his entire body felt like it had been electrified, a surge of electricity ran through him, his cock twitching inside you. He had never felt such pleasure before.

"Say my name again, Y/N."

"ummm…Wooyoung." Fuck,he loves your moan so bad. His balls slapped you ass clearly as the speed of his thrusts increased with his excitement. There was no interruption in his thrusts, the tip kept hitting you in the deepest part, sperm kept flowing out and soaking your inner walls. The sounds of wacking and squeaking of water and skin slapping skin are mesmerizing, and your body's temperature continues to rise with no sign of cooling off.

"ahhh~ahhh~ahhh~" The friction from the rubbing of the gravel on your back wakes you up, while the pleasure in your lower body continues to take your mind, the double whammy making you dizzy. Unsure if you're awake or continuing to fall for his seduction, you only want more pleasure to replace the pain, letting out a moan in hopes that the man on top of you will try harder.

As expected, his thrusts quickened in speed, the intensity increasing. You arched your back, moaned, the connection between your bodies became even closer. "You are so fucking tight, different from those female sirens." "Fuck!!"He pulled you up, your skin pressed tightly together as he thrust into you. You also moved back and forth in rhythm, each thrust making you hold your breath.

"Ah! Ah! I am close." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, buried your face in his neck, and screamed, your nails sinking into the palm of your hand, eyes squeezed shut, feeling yourself reaching the edge.

"I am gonna fuck my eggs inside your cunt." He also felt that he was about to climax, all the hot streams rushing to the tip of his shaft, about to overflow. With the maximum force, he thrust forward, after a few more thrusts, all the hot streams were released, and you reached climax in a moan.

His eggs creamed your cunt fully, even dripping onto the ground, the sharp stones beneath you stained with white liquid. He had never experienced such a climax, let alone produced so many eggs.

"That's my best sex ever." He pecked your lips and pulled out of your body. You also regained your composure, breathing not as rapid as before, your mind also becoming clear. You could now clearly see the man's face in front of you, his gaze was as deep and cold as the ocean, as if it could see through you completely; his lips were red,a mole on the lower lip and shaped perfectly, slightly upturned, exuding an enticing smile, but also revealing a dangerous aura.

"Wanna come with me?"

"Where?"

"To the sea, where I belong." He returned to the water, his legs transformed into a fish tail, gracefully floating. His body was slim and strong, his skin fair and smooth like a seashell. Wet hair pushed back, droplets shimmering under the moonlight, emanating an enchanting atmosphere.

The mysterious aura and unique charm that radiated from him made you feel like he was a being from the endless abyss. The ocean boiled because of his charm, creatures dancing around him, as if they had already been captivated by his beauty, praising this beautiful and mysterious existence. This was the most mysterious and seductive treasure that you, as a pirate, had ever pursued in your life.

All the animosity, all the doubts vanished long ago. Now you were completely immersed in the whirlpool called him, unable to wake up.

"Come with me, Y/N." He extended his hand towards you, each word seemed to be immersed in the music flowing in the water, awakening your desires and dreams hidden deep inside you. Without any hesitation, you took his hand, diving into the dark depths of the sea together.

From then on, no one knew the whereabouts of you and the crew - just like your father.