#even though it's the same amount of years

[bonediggercharleston]

That is nitpicking a tangent when the actual point was that people are aware of how easy it is for them to cheat so they are statistically more likely to do it. Address that, not the word "advertised" which is just accurately describing how people are being made aware of AI. If you want to say I lost you at the mention of advertising and public awareness, I do not think you are actually trying to follow. Reminder that you started with: "This is what people actually do." Not personal choice but a declarative statement of "this is how students do research with chatGPT". When I listen to teachers they complain about phony essays being handed in.

That was a tangent, checking results is not relevant to this conversation, which is about practicing skills which chatGPT atrophies by doing it for you. You are using it as a search engine but have not demonstrated any superior quality of chatGPT as a search engine, except it gets things wrong pretty often.

Actually OpenAI has started it's largest funding round ever, which means they are asking for more money. Their methods are hyperscaling, which is an increase in capability but the gains are disproportionate to cost. Their new models are being pushed back and not seen to be as big a jump as from 3.5 to 4. They are more in debt than ever. I am not aware of the cost per token going down or the subscription prices going down. Even "cheap" versions like deepseek which are cheaper to train have higher consumption in return. Any claims of it getting cheaper while the market leader got more expensive (the longer GPT5 takes to be released the more expensive it will be) and more addled with debt are dubious. This is magically hoping the tech will beome something it is not. It is a counterfactual and you cannot tell me when it will get profitable because nobody knows if LLMs are even the future of AI. This was a tangent though, the discussion was about ChatGPT atrophying your mental skills.

absolutely negligable, most PCs run all day and the AI compute centers consume orders of magnitude of energy more than most countries. The energy consumption is one of the externalities that make LLMs are really harmful technology, but again, the point here is that ChatGPT will make you a worse thinker if you use it to brainstorm, even in your very personal idealized, individual way of doing things which ignore larger societal scopes that OP was talking about.

It is not in anybody's favor, it is a caution against using easy parallels like you are doing, which are historical anecdotes. the research on the effect on people is clear: use your mental faculties less, and they get worse.

I am a millennial too and uh no, there was no backlash, those things got almost universally adopted. Most people talked about how great they were and apple sold millions of them, immediately making profit. And again, irrelevant anecdote with no connection to AI. You are pretending that because a new technology had a breakthrough, this next one will and that is just a complete fallacy. The commonality is that you think it is useful, which is just an opinion.

Shifting goalposts by claiming the 2 year old data is too old instead of finding data to contradict it. Did churn rate change on git repositories? Was it because AIs got better or because the amount of people using copilot changed? You would not know because you assume the data exists to prove your point, but you did not provide it to prove it.

An economic bubble is not the same thing as an apocalypse and AI is in a bubble now. This is another instance of strawmanning. WE have had several economic bubbles pop in our lifetimes. Also hella way to answer a hypothetical: "It wouldn't happen".

"It is a personal choice to let your brain atrophy." The state of AI bros, ladies and gentlemen. Ignorance is freedom. That is fascist thought. Just straight up. No critical thinking, just "well if they wanna be bad at critical thinking let them". I have to share a world with them. People can not know things, that is normal, but willful ignorance is malicious. You have made an argument in favour of cognitive impairment of human beings and that is the stupidest things I ever heard. There is very little personal choice in this because you deciding to be stupid in a society inflicts your choice upon society. If it affects others it is not personal. Sure you can use chatGPT to think for you but the problem is that GPTs are math-illiterate calculators that are worse at thinking like humans and real calculators are just really good at solving math.

Okay, I say AI should not replace any other tool for writing cause it sucks. Because people are smarter without it. Also all the other tangentially mentioned reason.

"Abstaining from AI will make me look like a douche". That conclusion is non-sense. As for the rest, you clearly used ChatGPT for research, not your opensource project. clearly one works better. and that's the problem: everybody uses it for free, nobody wants to pay for it. that's why they lose money. that's why the bubble will pop. cause if you have to pay for it you could just google shit again.

this one is easy: plato was wrong because writing records works differently from memorization and writing shit down actually helps memorization. chatGPT does not help memorization, it does not help you develop cognitive abilities. it does the work that would let you develop your thinking skills.

a final strawman. i said people do work only if they like to or if they need to. which is why people will use short cuts for work they don't like. and the easier the shortcuts, the more people will use them. which is the original point you got wrong. that ties a nice bow on it, don't it?

"what did students do before chatgpt?" well one time i forgot i had a history essay due at my 10am class the morning of so over the course of my 30 minute bus ride to school i awkwardly used by backpack as a desk, sped wrote the essay, and got an A on it.

six months later i re-read the essay prior to the final exam, went 'ohhhh yeah i remember this', got a question on that topic, and aced it.

point being that actually doing the work is how you learn the material and internalize it. ChatGPT can give you a short cut but it won't build you the the muscles.

[tojisteddy]

Could we please get more general meanie!simon headcannons?

No need to rush but have a good day!

general meanie!simon headcanons

now playing: landslide by fleetwood mac

a/n: I live for this, thank you for requesting!!! You have a good day too!!

Cannot do large crowds. It’s too loud and theres too many people and too many different conversations. He can do loud on the field, quick changes of action when it’s do or die. Just not at home. It spikes his anxiety up ten fold, make him more irritable. So he only grocery shops in the early mornings when the old ppl shop or he leaves it up to you. If you want to go shopping with him for new clothes, it’s get in and get out. Same with concerts. It has to be an artist that’s rare to see for him to go.

He’s extremely chill compared to how he was when he was a teenager/young adult. Hes sent a couple folks to the hospital, used to get into it with his team mates so bad John sent him to anger management and wouldn’t allow him back unless he got his act together. And he despised it at first, hated the happy go lucky therapist who lead the group, the fact that it was in a damned church basement, and that he had to talk to strangers. But it actually did a number on him. In a good way. Healed a few parts of him to make him into a better man, much easier to deal with, he’s slower to anger now. And if it comes storming down on him he might go for a smoke, take a few deep breaths, go walk a few paces. Price is proud of him and for once Ghost— no- Simon is proud of himself. Happy he stumbled upon you after he got his shit together. It makes him want to work harder at improving himself even more. He’s not the best, but he’s trying. He always go to group therapy every Wednesday when he’s back home, right after work. He brings home dinner, a little more- chipper.

Really doesn’t do too much talking when he’s off. He definitely a teaser, playful, but even with you, he doesn’t have much to say. You both like comfortable silence when you’re gone for cuddle together.

Doesn’t complain about the amount of stuffed animals you have or how you decorate. You’ve made his house a home, even after he fixed it up himself, it never felt good to be alone there. These are ghosts hiding there. But you brought a breath of fresh air into the place. Hes more than greatful, hugging onto your stuffed animals when your gone for too long.

Likes to do chores together, even if it’s folding laundry or walking the dogs or washing dishes— he loves being in your space.

hates your dog Fish because he’s a wild thing no matter how hard you train him. The little shit only listens to Simon for some reason when Simon only likes his dog, Slugger. Doesn’t mean the man isn’t gonna pet the cute one year old puppy though.

Squints a lot when reading the coffee signs, he definitely needs reading glasses but says hes too young for them (hes almost 35)

can talk about his favorite movies for ages, loves the classic westerns and sci-fi flicks from the 80s. Knows the actors ages and if they’re alive or not. Talks to you about them like a history lesson, you never get bored though. His voice is perfect.

A little insecure about the scars on him, that’s why he’s covered in tattoos. Some tattoos mean a lot to him, others he just got for fun.

Has a motorcycle, rides it here and there. Has taken you for a drive to meet Alice, an older woman about 80 from anger management. She’s like his grandma, he speaks softer (and smaller) when he’s with her. Alice babies the hell out of him.

His closet is more than casual, multiple black shirts and denim jeans, a few plaids, some leather jackets, bomber jackets— it’s not too serious. He’d rather invest in you, let you play dress up in your closet and watch you twirl for him. And he pays attention to every detail. What you like and don’t like. His cute fucking baby.

When he blushes, which is rare, it won’t show on his face, won’t smile at all or get red in his face— but his ears. Bright red. Be on the lookout when his mask is off.

Can knit and stitch. Not too good at stitching but he knows how to get that job done. Knitting? He joined Alice’s knitting group, club meetings to gossip are once a month of the first Saturday. He never misses a meeting.

Helps out the neighbors with their broken equipment. Broken lawnmower or mixing machine? He can fix it. He’s pretty handy. Stand off-ish but kind to his neighbors.

Spends some days drinking beer or whisky on the couch or going for a drive. Just to think about nothing but sometimes everything. Take a look at the scenic view, he takes you sometimes, kisses your hands and holds them tight without saying a word. 

Physical touch junkie, loves holding hands without saying it, brushing fingers, playing with your braids or curly hair, pinching your cheeks, having your legs in his lap— something.

Does not like clowns. Not scared but he finds them annoying. Same with mimes. Stays ten feet away.

Swears by Fleetwood Mac album ‘Rumours’, will always play it and never gets tired of it. It’s brought him out of multiple dark places. Won’t sing but will mumble the lyrics. So cute. Swears by To Noise Making (Sing) and Sunlight by Hozier and Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) by Deftones.

Two other random hobbies? Lego building and painting. He’s shit at painting, but he does it anyway because he enjoys it. Now Lego building, hes good. As in there are a few self made projects around the house that look like real masterpieces, good. Simon spends a buck and then some on them, Soap teases him for it but he always shows them off to you, they’re amazing.

a/n: I hope this was okay anon. Let me know. Been waiting for someone to ask but meanie!simon going to anger management is like a big part of the reason I don’t write him so toxic (just a little bit like a little extra salt though). I don’t think he’s at that point in his life anymore. Also sorry for all the posts today. My bad.

most recent masterlist past meanie!simon hc

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @nightfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[rafeslvbug]

How is nfl rafe and readers sex life?? Are they adventurous? Or do they do a lot of soft love making? What are their favorite positions?? Mhmm nfl rafe is so down bad for his girl I bet they have a great sex life

okay okay, i don’t really do smutty hcs..but since you’re not the only one to ask for this *sigh* (it’s not even that detailed icl)

nfl!rafe is down bad for his girl, yes they do have a great sex life.

i’ll be honest if it weren’t for the fact that she makes him use protection, they’d have had quite a few kids already.

she had her first kid right out of uni so when she was what? 21, i’ll say. but nine months so maybe she ended up actually having him at 22. then he’s about two when she has her next one, because they’re still quite young so she didn’t want kids so quick. then she’s 24? nine months again maybe late 24 or 25. now she’s 27. so idk? maybe kid three is in their cards, i can’t lie it probably is, they still have like a solid ten more years in them.

nfl!rafe is the type to do it at any given opportunity. kids dead asleep? yes. he’s just come home from a flight at 12am, it’s just him and her? sure, on the couch, or wall, or whatever’s nearest. happen to be in the shower at the same time? that’s his fav, actually might drag her into the bathroom with him.

soft? i wouldn’t say, but then i wouldn’t say adventurous either. i dunno, they have kids, their relationship was pretty forbidden and they go weeks without seeing each other sometimes. it’s messy, and rough? if that helps, always has been.

i dont know about positions..i’ll let you use your imagination on that one. it kind of depends on the situation, but nothing too weird. just remember there’s a lot of against furniture and walls, not much time for crazy or overly intimate positions.

i mentioned a lot about not having time, but to be honest they make time. they’re those kind of parents, love life doesn’t die after having kids, it persists and finds ways around it.

he’s the type of man to see her in his jersey and go feral, though, coaxing her up the stairs, hands on her waist and shoving her back against the bedroom door. everything off but the jersey.

could see some backshot stuff? maybe if he’s reallyyy impatient.

amount of times they do it..they do it maybe four times a week? multiple times a day, or literally when their schedule allows it. i don’t know what you guys consider to be a lot, but it’s a miracle protection even works atp.

i wouldn’t say rafe has a breeding kink or anything like that though. he definitely doesn’t, just can’t keep his hands off her. and if kids are a result of that then so be it.

while she’s pregnant though..there’s not a lot of action. big belly in the way, which i can really see not being a problem for him, but it’s just a bit awkward for her.

stuff still goes on though, like in other ways. all i’ll say is maybe think 69.

if anythingg maybe body worship. i can see him doing that, not even consciously, most times it just slips out, but he’s not apologetic for it. he’s vocal.

honestly he thinks your kids are cockblockers, it doesn’t even matter how active you guys already are. without kids, it would be much more. still loves his kids obviously.

do i feel like your son has maybe walked in on you guys? might have. but i think in the morning or late at night, so you were at least in bed and could say you were playfighting. anything done at a risky time, the door is always locked.

hope this is satisfactory enough! 🥴

[revcleo]

Class traitors of the working class are there to undermine the working class.

Class traitors of the capitalist class are there to undermine the capitalist class.

Marx wouldn't have survived without Engels, a classless society is one where people who are currently comfortable will not have to see poor people begging on the streets. Creating a better world for everyone means a better world for everyone, rich people are made to feel as though owning massive amounts of money is the only thing which means they and their children can have a better life. This is the whole thing behind the "working class landlord" situation.

When all people are given protection in their old age, this includes people who thought they would have to exploit the labour of others.

People frequently don't think of systemic solutions, but instead put it on individuals. Even if the grand dickhead Musk suddenly gave all his money to the USA, that would be half of Medicare's budget for the year. There can be so much more money if there's something like, a 100% wealth tax above 1 million (stocks and shares and liquid capital). I've not done the sums on that but like, it would hit way more people. Most people can agree that 1 million USD is enough money for one person?

Then so long as the funding doesn't all disappear into the military blackhole, which in 2025 was about 4 times as much money as musk has (if he liquidated his assets according to google). It'd make a bunch of public housing, lowering overall house prices.

In regards to house prices, people do want them to go up because it provides people with additional finance in the future, but housing shouldn't be an investment it should be a place where people live. What we need to do then is make sure that people don't lose out on mortgages with the bank, so there should be protection on wealth for individuals up to an amount like here in the UK, which is about 80k I believe? And I think maybe it would be a good idea to consult with economists (they're not all bad) on what laws could be passed to ensure that people don't suffer from house prices going down re: mortgages and negative equity.

Either way it's definitely possible to join with capitalist class traitors to ensure that everyone has a better future. Just sometimes people need to do more systems thinking. Otherwise it's just the same as shouting at someone not recycling a plastic bottle properly and saying they're killing the environment when they're just another symptom of the system which incentivises throwing things away.

Gosh.

Must be rough for them.

[bvidzsoo]

Hii! First of all congratulations on 3.5k! Secondly, for your prompt ask, can I request a fluff one-shot with jongho and number 46? Maybe the plot can be that jingo isn't big on physical touch but he comes home quite drunk and is feeling cuddly?

coffee-stained love

Pairing: athlete!Choi Jongho x gender neutral reader

❀ TW: none, just tooth-rotting fluff ❀ Word count: 2.6k ❀ Genre: fluff; established relationship; meet cute; coffee shop au; soccer captain!Jongho; university setting, and post-uni setting @cromernet ❀ Rating: pg-13 ❀ Prompt(s): 46: You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?

A/N: Ahh, hello my lovelies! It's been long since I posted on here, huh...well, surprise, I'm back with a short event that you can still participate in until the 8th of June! Here are the prompts from which you can request, please read the criteria carefully! Thank you for all the requests so far, I was really happy to see so many of you interested! I hope that this story is to your liking, anonie, thank you for requesting and for the love! Feedback is always much appreciated, happy reading! ^^ divider

Meeting the love of your life happened quickly and in a very mundane way, which completely skewed your perception of love. Now, don’t you get it wrong…you’ve always been a romantic at heart, it’s just that you have watched one too many rom-coms and read perhaps an excessive amount of romance books to know that a love like that only happened in fictional stories. There was no way you’d meet the love of your life on the subway on your way home, exhausted out of your mind listening to the same song as you—and bam, you are suddenly bonding over it, and then the next second you find yourselves taking the next big step. You also knew there was no way you’d find the love of your life at a library, reaching for the same book at the same time. All it would’ve taken was just the brush of your fingertips—and there you have it; you are giving birth to your second child four years later. And yes, you also knew there was no way on Earth you’d find the love of your life at a coffee shop because he spilt his drink on you—of course not, what kind of fairy-tale would you be living in if it happened like that?

Except that…well, yes…the day you met the love of your life you had been running late, half of your lecture already over, but you knew without a strong coffee you wouldn’t make it through the day, so…priorities first. It just so happened that a guy you knew in passing from campus was running late, too, rushing and completely missing the person approaching from behind, eyes glued to their phone. And you guessed it again…that person was you, freaking out over the fact that your friend texted you about a term paper you had completely forgotten about. Before you could type back, though, something hard crashed against your chest, followed by a hot sensation. You gasped and jumped back; eyes wide as you stared down at your now coffee-stained shirt. The deep brown looked ugly against your once pristine clear ironed shirt, and for a second you were dumbfounded. The guy who had spilt his whole cup of coffee on you was spluttering in front of you, his eyes wide and his cheeks a deep red.

“I am so sorry!” He said rushed, not knowing what do to with his hands next. You tried to reign in your annoyance as you sighed, finally looking up at the guy. And even though you’d never admit it—not even all these years later—it was love at first sight. His chubby red cheeks, his pretty brown eyes all round and frightened, the downturn of his pink plush lips and his cute nostrils flaring…you were endeared despite the hot liquid slightly burning your skin, “Oh, I’m such a mess this morning. I’m so-so sorry…”

You gulped and looked down at your shirt again, realising that you’d seen this guy on campus before. So, to mask your annoyance, you said the first thing that came to your mind, “Hey, you’re on the soccer team, right?”

The guy in front of you looked taken aback and confused as he tilted his head, “Uhm, yes…I’m the captain of the team.”

“Huh, thought so,” You muttered to yourself, his expression adorable as he looked at you in confusion, “We go to the same Uni.”

His eyes widened in realisation as he nodded, glancing down at the coffee stain again, “So, uhm, about your shirt—”

“Right, don’t worry about it—”

“No, no!” The guy was quick to cut you off, shaking his empty hand to physically stop you from brushing this matter off so quickly, “Let me dry clean it for you, it’s the least I can do after I ruined it.”

“It’s not ruined,” You muttered as you pulled at the material, realising you’d have to head home and change. That meant you wouldn’t show up to your first lesson at all today…great, just what you needed, “A little bleach and it’s all new.”

“Don’t bleach it,” The guy frowned, leaning in to take a closer look at the shirt, “I think it’ll ruin the fabric.”

The guy didn’t seem to realise that he was staring straight at your breasts as the stain covered the left side of your chest, and when he glanced up with innocent eyes, you burst into laughter, making him confused once again. He took a second to realise where his eyes were, and he gasped as he stood up straight, blushing even more furiously, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that! I’m so…God, this morning is just terrible.”

“Aw, I’ve run into people under silly circumstances but nobody has called it terrible before.” You pouted as you teased the guy, watching his expression morph into terror and embarrassment, “I’m just joking, hey!”

“Right…” The guy muttered, fishing his phone out of his pocket, “So, uhm, here’s my number for when you want to reach out…”

He turned his phone around, his number on display, so you went into your contacts and typed it in, realising that you had no idea what his name was. You hummed and looked up at him, smiling at him almost shyly as you pursed your lips.

“So, uhm…I don’t know your name…” The guy then grinned and stepped back, straightening his back as he reached a hand out for you to shake. You were taken aback but reacted quickly.

“I’m Choi Jongho, nice to meet you!” And the grin on his lips made you forget what you were about to do or say, and you jumped when he finally shook your hand. You were blushing furiously, you felt your cheeks burning as you chuckled, nodding to yourself. You typed in his name as Jongho—soccer captain, and cleared your throat before telling him your name. Jongho looked abashed as he typed in your number too, saving it so that he could reach out to you when the shirt was all clean and dry.

“So, uh,” Jongho stared at the ground as he rubbed his nape, almost reminding you of that one meme of Kevin James standing abashedly with a grin on his face, and you had to fight all demons inside you to not laugh at him, “Do you often come to my games?”

“Oh, no,” You shook your head, frowning a bit, “I hate soccer but my friend always drags me with her—no offence! It’s just…I find it boring, I guess.”

Jongho’s expression fell a little and you felt bad for being so honest, so you quickly tried to do a bit of damage control, “But! You are a great player, last time your team won because you scored in the last minute, right?”

“Yes, exactly!” Jongho answered quickly with an excited smile, “Well, tell me next time if you plan on coming to the game and maybe I can make it less boring for you.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows at Jongho, who nodded with an excited glint in his eyes. Your heart was racing and you hadn’t even noticed it until now, but as the silence stretched on, you couldn’t help but focus on your thundering heart. Jongho was really cute as he stood in front of you, dressed in shorts that reached below his knees, white socks covering his calves and a light rain jacket over his clothes as the sky promised a downpour anytime now. His duffle bag was slung over one shoulder and his empty cup of coffee was still gripped in his hand. He wore one ring on the forefinger of his right hand, the infinity symbol engraved into the silver, and pretty, small, white gemstones glinted in it under the ceiling lights, “So, it was nice talking to you, but I should get to the library since I missed my first lecture.”

“Oh my God,” Jongho’s eyes widened, his expression panic-stricken, “Am I the reason you are late?!”

“No!” You laughed, finding Jongho cuter by the minute as you reached out absentmindedly, patting his forearm, “I was already late before coming here.”

But you forgot to retract your hold on his arm right away and Jongho noticed, and so did you when you both looked down at your hand gripping his arm, “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Both of you noticed the shy smiles on each other’s faces as you blushed, chuckling to yourselves and looking to the side. And even though you’ve told the story of how you two met numerous times to the world, you could never grow tired of it as it always made you smile. It was a fond memory which you liked to recall from time to time.

Even though the two of you met ages ago under rather unusual—almost fairytale-like circumstances—your relationship was still standing, more than stable. I mean, with a ring on your finger, it would’ve been jarring to be any other way. Jongho has been a sweetheart to you from the very beginning of your meeting, but don’t be fooled…underneath all that cuteness and softness hides a dorky and silly man, with tricks up his sleeve or dumb pranks that either have you laughing for hours, or chasing him around the house until you’ve tackled him to the ground, his punishment being getting tickled.

It’s always been like that with Jongho, though: easy and loving. He’s always been straightforward with you and playful, not scared to be vocal about his love for you…maybe because he wasn’t too fond of physical touch, he found alternatives to express it. It wasn’t a great issue for you since you preferred quality time spent together rather than sharing kisses and hugs randomly or cuddling up on the couch while watching a movie. You both liked your space, so even the smallest of touches shared between the safety of your walls were cherished greatly. You had gone to sleep early after Jongho’s game as you were tired from the road trip, declining the invitation to hang out with Jongho and his team, the other wives tagging along, too.

You loved the celebratory dinners, but you could barely keep your eyes open by the time you were driven back to the hotel, so with a swift kiss from Jongho, you retreated to your room. When Jongho was on tour with his team and you could take days off from your work to follow him, you’d always book two rooms adjacent so that Jongho wouldn’t wake you as he had to get up early in the mornings. It’s what worked best for you as you valued your sleep, and Jongho wasn’t an exactly quiet person as he bumped into things half-awake, groaning and muttering curses under his breath as he woke you on accident too, making you chuckle before you’d go back to sleep.

On the mornings he’d have to leave early, Jongho would brew you coffee and put together a quick breakfast. It was sweet and it always made you smile as you read the note he’d leave plastered on the fridge. You’d write one back as sometimes he would return before you did from work, baking him his favourite cookies even if he wasn’t allowed to eat them during the tournament season. It was a small habit you had developed once you moved in together after university.

He had proposed half a year ago and the wedding was in two years, and Jongho was way more ecstatic than you, taking care of things attentively. Just today, you had gotten an email about the venues Jongho had chosen—something simple by the sea since you both loved the beach. You planned to check all the links and descriptions about the venues tonight, but you had been so sleepy after the game that the second your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

The sheets were soft and silky, cold when you had gotten wrapped up in them, pulling your body into it as your muscles relaxed. You had no idea for how long you had been asleep, but as you groaned and tried to blink your heavy eyes open, it was still dark in the room. There was a creak in the doorway and then a groan, and you hummed as you flipped onto your back, rubbing your eyes before you sat up. Your fiancé, clad in nothing but his t-shirt and boxers, was hopping on one leg as he tried to pull the pantleg of his jeans off. You chuckled as your eyes adjusted to the dark and the figure in your doorway, hair all mussed up.

“Jongho,” You said when he was finally free from the clutches of his jeans, “What are you doing?”

Jongho pouted as he looked up, trudging towards your bed sluggishly, “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, you weren’t exactly quiet.” You raised an eyebrow as Jongho huffed, then got on your bed, slowly crawling towards you. His cheeks were red and you realised he had changed his t-shirt before coming to your bed, “Are you drunk, babe?”

“Wasted.” Jongho giggled as his face came close to yours, his breath fresh and his cheeks still damp from having just washed up, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You chuckled as you kissed Jongho’s puckered lips, his eyes closed, “Tired?”

“Yes, now,” Jongho giggled before he tackled you down into the sheets, making you gasp as he landed on top of you. Jongho’s body was sturdy and well-built due to him being an athlete, and you struggled to hold his weight as he was crushing your lungs, but you couldn’t say anything as he started peppering your face with kisses, giggling to himself and making you snicker too, “Let’s cuddle.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, cupping his cheeks to stop him from giving you more ticklish kisses, “The Choi Jongho…”

You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, eyes widening, “Came to my room and woke me up at 4 am, to cuddle?!”

Jongho giggled again then got off you, kissing your lips tenderly before he settled down next to your side, “So, what are you waiting for? I want to be the little spoon.”

You laughed and shook your head, settling behind Jongho as he turned on his side, humming in contentment once your arm was around him, a leg thrown over his hip and your chest pressed into his back firmly. Jongho then sighed and you felt his body relaxing, his breathing quiet as you raised your head to kiss his nape softly. You cherished moments like this one dearly, your whole being so fond of the man in your arms that sometimes you didn’t know what to do with such an overwhelming feeling. It was consuming in the best way possible, intense as it made you feel lively. You had no idea what you’d do without Jongho in your life, and you hoped you’d never find out now. He was yours, and you two were meant to be…that’s one thing you were completely sure about.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Jongho whispered and you felt your heart swell, your grip tightening around your fiancé.

“And I love you, my Joongie.” You whispered back into his skin as you felt your body grow heavy once again, sleep coming even faster than earlier in the evening now that the love of your life was in your arms, his warmth the most comforting feeling ever, his cologne and soft breaths familiar. And maybe you weren’t in a fairytale or rom-com, but you were sure you had gotten your happy ending with Jongho by your side.

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[colorlessjay]

Ok I love immortal Cas reincarnation Dean but also like what if it’s a reincarnation library? Like souls come in and Cas checks them in and returns them to the new shelf/life they belong to?

Cas is the librarian (it was some other angel but Cas just had too much heart so they stuck him where he could cause the least amount of trouble and turns out he’s really fucking good at it). His job is to guide souls to their next incarnation. One might think that it would get boring or he would hate staying in what amounts to heaven’s basement (like the other angel) but he doesn’t. The souls will sometimes tell him the stories of their last lives as he escorts them to the proper new section and he loves it (especially the bees who have wonderful description of flowers).

Then comes Dean. Cas knows right away that he’s NOT supposed to be here. Cas has gained the ability to see life lines, it’s how he knows where to place souls (past lifelines are gold future life lines are silver, it determines if you go in to become a tortoise, a mouse, a human, a butterfly, etc.) but Dean comes in and his lifeline is severed and green like his soul. Cas doesn’t know what to do. He thinks maybe it’s unfinished business so he has him reincarnate as a human but somehow every couple of years Dean comes back (he doesn’t remember much except that he trusts the blue eyed angel that always saves and cares for him) Cas is beside himself. No one from heaven ever comes to rectify the situation and the more times Dean shows up the more Cas talks to him and gets to know him, the more he falls in love. He shows Dean how he transfers the souls and how they become remade and whole in their new forms. He gets so desperate to see Dean’s soul the same way, he offers Dean any incarnation he wants. Dean innocently asks what incarnation would allow him to stay with Cas. Cas has to tell Dean he can’t stay. That’s not how it works. Dean is sad but asks to be reincarnated as a dog so he can watch over his brother. Cas let’s him even though the lifeline isn’t right, even though it’s breaking his own rules. It’s years until Dean returns and Cas doesn’t know if he’s happy or sad.

Anyway much anguish,angst, and reincarnations later Cas simply can’t bear to see Dean’s soul broken anymore (he’s tried everything, even breaking the rules again and waiting with Dean until his brother Sam dies and reincarnating them as brothers together) but nothing. Finally (after learning through many other souls like Bobby, Jody, Donna, Benny, etc.) that Dean’s soul has been cursed, marked by a god for eternal pain. It’s unbearable to see, torture to know that he will never be able to bring Dean the peace the beautiful soul deserves. Then a soul gives him the answer (Rowena) and he makes the ultimate sacrifice to break Dean’s curse. He gives him his wings. Dean is now free from the cycle of incarnation which means he will never return to Cas or the library and Cas has given up his wings so his sanctuary is now his lovely prison.

Only Dean starts dreaming. Starts remembering a place and blue eyes. Remembers a man. And if it’s the last thing he does, if he has to storm heaven itself: he’s going to find him one day.

He starts by sending messages with the dying (maybe he become a doctor or something because the closer he is to the boundary between life and death the closer he feels to the mystery man) he whispers in ears, sends notes in hands and sometimes he swears he’ll see a few more bees around him than normal, maybe some blue butterflies that aren’t native to the area and he doesn’t give up hope that there is a way to cross the veil back to Cas (and maybe Cas gets in trouble because the angels DEFINITELY take notice of a soul breaking free of the cycle that fuels heaven and they lobotomize him Ike they do in cannon, he doesn’t remember being in love with Dean but the old souls that have passed through and seen them together are the ones coming to Dean to give him hope)

So now Dean is remembering while Cas has forgotten and it’s just one complex and beautiful tragedy

Only. The god that Cas saved Dean from wants revenge. So he/she/they/it demand Cas is punished to forget and live a human life. Dean meets Cas and both know they are looking for someone they lost but neither know it’s each other (maybe they try not to fall in love with each other, still clinging to what they think they’ve lost and when they finally do give in they remember or something) except it’s not all happily ever after because remember that god that cursed Dean (Amara maybe)? Yeah it’s got a mortal vessel too and it’s determined to get Dean for itself

———

Oof sorry that was so long and if it doesn’t make sense, the idea got away from me as I was typing. Please ignore me if you hate it I just needed to get it out of my system somewhere 😅 I really love the other takes on this one too (the Epic/mythology parallels are awesome, 10/10)

Write a book, goddamn

Definitely not the direction my brain was going in but I fucking love it

Vibes. 10/10. Makes your own post about this and expand on it plsss

[thebluediner]

Heyyy my lovey, not sure if your requests are open so please ignore this if you want!

Pleaseee tell me you've seen billies new video of making the album cover! It's given me so many cute ideas 😭

I'd love to see the reader being the photographer who's taking all the photos, and right after this busy day, billie just cuddles with us looking through all the photos. (Cons of having a famous photographer as a gf) 🤍

a/n: I've seen the other request and that author already did it but the more the merrier.

CAPTURING THE MOMENT BUT MOSTLY YOU

when you were hired to be apart of the journey of the hit me hard and soft it was about three years ago, to be exact 2022. truth be told you had worked with so many celebrities in hollywood and this was just one of many but what you didn't expect was to get a girlfriend out of this.

you first met billie on a bright hot summer day that had you wearing the least amount of clothes you professionally could. the address was in some place up in the hills which ended up being billie's house.

you had knocked against the wooden door and two seconds later a girl with a messy bun and blue eyes opened the door. her eyes locked onto your own dull ones before she seemed to frantically pull of her scrunchy her hair falling down to her shoulders before patting it down her hair to appear more presentable.

''hi sorry I didn't know you were coming...'' you looked at her with confusion when she said that because how could she not know it was on the schedule sent to the team for the albumn preparations.

'' no I mean I forgot sorry... come in'' billie was being weird anybody who knew her personally could tell but to you she was just frantic like you had caught her in the act of something she shouldn't be doing .

you made your way into the house your eyes trailing along the decorated walls and plain ceilings before being greeted by finneas. he was very friendly and made it a point to make you feel at home by offering you every possible snack in the house while billie trailed behind you.

''I'm okay thank you, you can both act like I'm not even here so I can get the most authentic pictures'' you told the siblings before they seemed to nod and offered small smiles before they led you to the studio outback.

the moment you took off the strapped camera from your body the work started. you were like a shadow stuck against the walls while the two did their job of recording jotting down notes and a notebook with multiple scribbles in them. you walked close towards them to get a picture of the page and like you were prey billie's eyes scanned your figure a moment of distraction until you moved away.

the first couple days were like that. you'd come at the same time just to stay in the background to capture moments they would need for later once the albumn is out. there would be days where it wasn't just the siblings but more people like producers, artists that reviewed the songs, friends, family. claudia or even billie's boyfriend accompanying the artists whoever entered the space was captured.

but obviously you weren't following them day in and day out. weeks and months would pass without you seeing them at all. billie and finneas were busy tackling media and tour of the current albumn while you did your freelancing with other artists and models too.

the next time you saw each other was maybe three to four months later where billie and finneas where to discuss the visuals for the albumn. visuals often included lots of people in a room and lots of printed paper. when you arrived billie was the first one to lock eyes with which didn't last long because the noise in the room was too much to ignore. you gave her a smile before you disappeared , not to billie though, into a corner somewhere where you had enough coverage for more wide pictures.

the day mostly consisted of taking pictures of drafts of the visual, billie working with the team , the managers discussing the impact of each choice. the whole team was there as you took pictures of moments of cooperation between the team even through heated moments where billie struggled to express her vision for the albumn enough for her team to understand.

takeout arrived and people dispersed into each one of their food packet. it was in those moments where your camera came down from your face and you weren't hidden by a piece of machinery and those moments were the same ones that led to billie approaching you.

''I hope we're not boring you '' she would say scratching her neck exposing her back tattoo just enough for you to see. you'd smile at her before answering.

''you guys are boring actually'' you'd tease and at first billie's faced dropped before she busted out laughing getting your sarcasm. just like that you both started to speak whenever the camera wasn't in your face.

months passed once more and the next time you saw each other was when she started talking about upcoming music videos since the music was officially over. that was when you saw her almost every day. by this time billie and the boyfriend weren't a thing anymore you'd know because you kept up with the internet and didn't live under a rock.

as soon as the production for each music video started you were on set early in the mornings at six carrying camera equipment at dawn through to noon. you had gotten in way before billie and finneas did taking footage of the set and the crew before the production starts.

by the time billie entered you were ready for her. the camera followed her every move through every decision which was the main reason why you became close.

it started innocently well from your side it did billie she had her eyes on you since you showed up on her door. she didn't really recognise the feeling then but post breakup her mind was clearer than ever. she talked to you more, laughed with you more basically throwing the whole thing of acting like you weren't there away with how much she interacted with you. you weren't complaining though she kept the day interesting.

one time after filming lunch the crew decided to go out and have a couple of drinks and you tagged alone. billie was there too and as soon as the liqour entered her system she started saying things that made you realise the reason why she was acting frantic the first time you met.

she would lean against you whispering how she preferred you without a camera against the frame of your face and when you asked her what she meant by that she didn't hesitate to call you pretty. she clung to you the whole night eventually leading you to taking her home.

by the time she was filming chihiro you had known her interest in you and you for sure didn't try to hide yours too. pictures you took went from her solely focused on work to her smiling at you from across the room, when she was sleeping somewhere around the set every mundane things possible and those were the ones you were going to keep to yourself.

it wasn't long before you two coughed up the feelings you harboured for each other. by this time it was only a few months before the albumn in announced meaning the official albumn pictures were set to be taken.

the first sets of pictures were set outside where the set was built. the set was a kitchen tapped with blue wrap and soon enough billie appeared from the set with a big foolish smile when she saw you waiting for her with the camera set right infront of you.

''take good pictures of me babygirl'' she'd holler before positioning herself however she wanted.

''don't I always babe'' you chuckle before your face is against the fame already clicking away.

the other time was when you had to spend hours and hours trying to get the right picture for the albumn cover. billie insisted to be underwater for the picture like demanded she do it exactly like no matter how many times the crew suggested just editing it.

so there you were on your knees and the camera gripped into your hands tongue sticking out clicking as many photos you can while she was plunged underwater because getting up and walking towards her every time she had her head above water to see if she approved of any of them.

now many many many moths after the abumn comes out to be exact a year your camera was gong through a deep cleanse because a lot of pictures you took of billie were coming out to the public in celebration of one year of hit me hard and soft.

not all of them though some were special to you so you kept them but decided to print them out to show billie later than evening.

a cool night in spring you walked out of the shower putting your hair up in a bun entering your shared bedroom. as you turn the corner of the room you can see billie is already in bed her fingers full of printed out pcitures going through each of them.

''your going through them without me'' you pout whining before getting into the bed opening the comforter getting in.

''you shouldn't be whining baby you've had these for what?, a year '' billie says side eyeing you.

''two years'' you mumble before getting closer to her letting your arms wrap around her waist pulling her closer while burying your face into chest hiding from the reaction she was about to give you.

''two fucking years baby what the hell'' billie says in disbelief laughing as she turns over to another of her smiling as you while laying in a field, the same one she filmed chihiro in.

''hey you love them though ,don't you '' you raise your head peeking at her.

''of-course I do my pretty baby took them but she kept them from me'' billie says leaving the pictures for a second to pull you into a small kiss.

''like this one was way before we even started dating and it's so embarrassing'' billie says picking up one where she's asleep mouth slightly with her head hanging over the chair in her dressing room.

''excuse me that's one of the cute ones on there'' you say defending the picture.

''you're being biased baby, like look at this one'' billie is full on giggling as she picks up another one of her taking a huge bite into a sandwhich as the set of lunch.

''you can say whatever but I love those pictures'' you grumble before holding her tighter and laying your face on her chest once more. billie looks at you shaking her head with a slight blush spread across her face before she she continues looking at the pictures commenting when she needs too.

[theharbingerofxhaos]

We figured this could be a fun post so will attempt to answer as best we can even if we're still sick :(

-Erasmus

How many alters (headmates generally for us) do we have, and do we consider it a lot?

27 😅 Many of us are what we refer to as weaker fronters, so they tend to come out much much less, but others are much more consistent fronters, so although we wouldn't nessacarily say we have *a lot* of headmates, we definitely have a lot for the amount of days in a year there are!

Do we have any sub systems, and if so, how do they work?

We have, 4 maybe? And they all have a colour assigned to them: red, blue, green, and rainbow. Red Sub-System are "Crowleys", just headmates who formed off of Crowley, or another Crowley, they tend to basically be part of the main system but they tend to all share memory to a degree, and when front is fuzzy they can reach each other easier than reaching other headmates. Blue is "Cheshires", they are basically the same as Crowleys, but slightly different in appearance. There's only 3 cheshires, and generally, their fronts are all tied around each other, so if 1 is around, the other 2 are probably around, too. Green subsystem is just dubbed "the women", not much is known about them, except that they are either raging lesbians or raging pansexuals and no in between, they also tend to be fictives, or align heavily with a material that fits their personality. Honestly we only found out 4 of our headmates were/are from green sub-system this past December, and we've been dealing with a lot of other personal stuff so it's been hard to figure out where they are from, why they form, or how they work. The last is Rainbow. Rainbow is a completely separate sub-system. In our head, they sort of feel like an orb, black hole, void, etc. of many many, possibly endless fragments, generally ones that are harmful to themselves, our system, or just ones that never formed into headmates. They don't tend to front, and when they do, they can be anything from a little to a severe angry persecutor. One headmate has formed off of Rainbow, Iridiana, who also now gatekeeps when Rainbow can or cannot front to protect the system better.

Do we have a core?

Short answer, no, and we don't tend to like the phrase either. However we won't talk too much on this now as it's something Moira wants to write on later :)

Do we have an innerworld (headspace for us) and how complex is it?

Yes and no. We have had very intricate headspaces before, but for over 10 years now we have struggled with forming/seeing/having a headspace. Ashe is at times capable of forming a semi headspace, which is basically just a black void where anyone near front has a nice chair. For the past few months we've been having, dissociative dreams almost? In which there is a large round wooden table, with chairs around it that we all sit at or in the case of Artemis who we met via the table, on. Headspaces tend to be a point of discomfort for us though as not having one is, not very nice.

How does fronting work for our system, and do we have a fronting room?

We have an area near what we refer to as front (what would be the closest to the outerworld from out headspace), sometimes we've imagined it as a room, where headmates all sit, and can communicate with who is fronting easier, but it's very hard for us to tell what it really is for our system. Fronting works in a lot of ways for us, it would be hard to explain in one post, but a simple answer would be we all come and go from front, generally there is a brief dissociative period between switches, and gatekeepers try to control the flow of front better to stop slipping and other things.

How do we communicate with our headmates?

Often? We tell @guardianssystem something and hope he remembers it. Communication goes up and down with how easy it is for us, so sometimes it's as easy as directly talking to each other, almost like hearing someone else in our thoughts, sometimes we need to use external things to communicate.

Do we use headmate roles? And which do we use?

Yes! This seems to be a point of controversy for a lot of people, but we find roles help us focus, and give us some sense of being, we are here and this is why we're here, and this is why we're going to stay here. We use the general terms like protector, caretaker, persecutor, gatekeeper, and we also use some other community terms like soother, and internal self helper, but we also use some of our own terms. Moira we refer to as a "technical caretaker", someone who caretakers the technical things for the system like finances, and medical things. We refer to Moroi as a "physical caretaker", someone who looks after the body and acts almost as a protector, and Haytham, an "emotional caretaker", who acts similar to a protector or trauma holder, and protects the system emotionally, helps them emotionally or helps our partner system emotionally. Some caretakers can do multiple, but Moira is rather callous at times, and so doesn't like to act in place of an emotional caretaker because she feels it doesn't fit her role correctly, and it's sort of the same for all of our other roles too.

Who fronts the most, and who fronts the least?

This changes a lot, it tends to be protectors or caretakers who front the most, and littles and trauma holders that front the least, but that is not always certain, we have had trauma holder hosts at times etc.

How often do our fronting/host patterns change?

It's really random honestly, often influenced by external events, or our own mental health. Right now we have a planned out front schedule all the way to mid october, because the past year and a half has been full of front stucks, and big trauma stuff, and so we're attempting to catch up on headmate birthdays, and time out for those who haven't had much. Though the schedule is, flexible because sometimes people just, come out haha.

How often do we switch?

This is another harder question to answer, sometimes we can switch like 10-20 times in 1 day between any number of headmates, sometimes we can go months without switching. Right now it's about 1-2 times a day, if we need a caretaker or protector etc. or if someone wants to see Guardians :) Seeing Guardians tends to be a very, very common reason to switch we get lonely :(

Do we co-front with alters often, and is it easy or difficult?

It really depends. And depends on what you want to consider co-fronting, sometimes there will be multiple people at front, but not nessacarily "co-fronting". Ashe and Moira tend to co-front *A LOT* though, because they're dating. Sometimes if we need, multiple protectors will co-front, and that does tend to be extremely exhausting, even Ashe and Moira don't tend to fully co-front, just hang around very close and switch between each other. It works easiest on headmates who have a very close relationship, and even then it's not a very consistently achievable thing unfortunately.

How long does it take us to switch?

This is also very situational, if someone is weaker at pulling people out, if someone is very hard to reach, if there are more dissociative barriers than usual, can all affect how fast we switch. It can be anywhere from a second to a few hours. Though Guardians says the average is around 20 seconds or so :)

Do we have specific voice claims for how headmates sound inside?

Not really, our fictives sound like our fictives, and we all have a personal pinterest folder with things that look like us, or feel like us, hair styles etc. Sometimes there are things that sound similar to us, like recently Moroi sounds kind of like Dracula or Alucard from Castlevania, but it's not *exactly* how he sounds, it's hard to find exact things for how we feel a lot of the time, but it does sound interesting :D

Do we have any introjects, and if so what are their sources?

Plenty! We have Moira and Ashe from Overwatch, Edward and Haytham from Assassins Creed, Erebos who is alongside other things a multi-loki fictive (various sources), Jinx from Arcane/LoL, Lotor from Voltron, Zaheer (they go by Lotus though) from Korra, Stoat from Inscryption, V from V for Vendetta, Winter/Wolf (Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier) from Marvel/MCU, and a couple of people loosely formed based off of Guardians :) And Scarlet is technically like a triple source fictive but that is a whole different story.

Do we have any hosts/co-hosts?

Yes we have (after checking, we have not actually updated this on our simplyplural but we think we remember correctly) 3 co-hosts, we're pretty sure it's Moira, Scarlet, and Winter at the moment :)

If we have a headspace, can we see it while fronting?

Sort of? It depends on how formed it is at the time, and it does technically mean we can accidentally leave front trying to feel around inside, but we tend to be able to see inside without leaving front :)

Do we use any origin terms?

A few, not really often but as a whole we call ourselves a mixed origin system, made up of various traumagenic and endogenic headmates :)

Do we have any NPCs in our headspace?

We genuinely have no idea how to answer this one moment while we consult Guardians, and ask if our chairs count - Okay we are still uncertain on what does or doesn't count but we don't believe we do

Has our system created any rules our headmates are expected to bide by?

Yes, on multiple occassions, although it does change situationally. Just basically a general this is okay to do, this is not okay to do that anyone normally would have.

This was really fun to do! And if there's any other questions people have we will either make its own post about it or respond in a comment etc. we love answering questions so feel free to ask anything ❤

-Xhaos

PLURAL ASK GAME!! ⋆˙⟡

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ get 2 know ur sys!!

!! this post is for everybody! u may use this regardless of origin/beliefs, just remember to follow ur own dni

🌸 - how many alters do u have? do u consider yourself to have a high headcount?

🧩 - do u have any subsystems? if so, how do they work?

🍧 - are there any alter(s) who u would consider the “core”? if so, are they the host?

💞 - do u have an innerworld? how complex is it?

💧 - how does fronting work for your system? do u have a “front room”?

🍀 - how do u communicate with ur headmates?

🍡 - do u use alter roles/labels? which ones do u use?

🌺 - who fronts the most? who fronts the least?

❄️ - how often do ur hosts/fronting patterns change?

🥝 - how often do u switch?

🪷 - do you co-front with other alters often? is co-fronting easy or difficult?

🌷 - how long does it take for u to switch?

🌨️ - do ur alters have specific voice claims for what they sound like in headspace?

🌱 - do u have any introjects? what are their sources?

💐 - do u have any hosts? co-hosts?

🍃 - if u have an innerworld, can u see into while you’re fronting?

💗 - do u use any origin/-genic terms? what are they?

🌿 - do u have any npcs in your headspace?

🍬 - has ur system created any rules ur alters are expected to abide by?

[beneathsilverstars]

Hello, there! So, in the secret passage, we learn that Odile had a “hate-crush,” so how do you think it went? (I am an aro Odile believer—)

And, second question, do you think the implication that Bonnie has no friends is one of the reasons they act the way they do? (Besides not having memories of their parents, which definitively would mess a kid up, even if it’s for the best.) I feel there is more to Bonnie’s character than it seems, I just don’t know how to word it properly, sorry.

(answered the first part here)

Bonnie's really interesting, because in some ways they're a very well-written child character, but it's like... sometimes they seem like a well-written 12 year old and sometimes they seem like a well-written 7 year old? Which makes sense, because id5 has said they don't know a lot about kids — it seems she has good intuition for the emotional arc on account of children are obviously just people who haven't had a lot of practice yet, but she isn't familiar with the like, developmental milestone timelines. But! Hey! There are plenty of reasons for kids to be behind average in various areas! So we can absolutely run with some Watsonian theories here.

Tbh I need to replay the game with this topic in mind bc I'm starting to forget exactly which Bonnie moments struck me as pre-preteen. But one of the big ones is that the amount and type of words they have trouble pronouncing is more what I'd expect from a 4-5 year old; my 5 year old recently took a couple tries to get "onigiri" right, but I can't remember the last time she mispronounced something before that. So I think Bonnie might have some kind of language or auditory processing issues, or maybe Nille (or the whole region they're from) speak a different language more often than Vaugardian or something.

Bonnie doesn't mention any friends, but they also barely mention Nille, so maybe they don't have any but maybe they just don't want to think about anyone from Bambouche. But I like to say they don't have any because no one in this party does! Family, acquaintances, coworkers or classmates, but no true close friends. And it would just makes sense, y'know? Bonnie and Nille were newcomers in a small village, which isn't a status you shake easily, especially when you're weird in other ways. And there's no way Bonnie wouldn't have been weird at first — whatever age they were when Nille ran away with them, they would've been behind in social-emotional skills. And once you're the weird kid, you don't get as many chances to socialize, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Even if people were perfectly nice, it makes a difference to be the person who hasn't been good friends with everyone else since preschool.

But that's just peer relationships — by canon I think Bonnie has pretty well caught up on general emotional skills. They're dealing with several very traumatizing situations and handling them surprisingly well! Preteens are known for being a bit angry and angsty, I'm not gonna hold it against them when they react that way to their friend/idol losing a whole eye right in front of them. (This is why I think Nille must have done some therapy and gotten pretty damn good at emotional regulation, if she's raised such a well-regulated and reasonable kid, despite everything.)

And actually, their relative maturity in some ways coulda kinda work hand-in-hand with their relative immaturity in other ways, when it comes to a lack of friendships. It's just another way of being weird, y'know? (<- my "autistic kid who ends up hanging out with adults because they don't vibe with their peers" bonnie agenda)

Overall, though, I feel like we do know a little less about Bonnie than anyone else... Their friend quest is about their relationship with Siffrin, so it doesn't give as much backstory context as everyone else's. And they joined the party because Siffrin found them half-dead, so we don't get the same information about what motivates them as we do with Isabeau and Odile. I think I extrapolate a lot of my Bonnie headcanons/characterizations just from the general themes and trends of ISAT. And then some of it is intertwined with my Nille analysis — the way kids act tells you a lot about how they were raised, and the way kids were raised obviously affects how they act. (Here's some of my more-specific thoughts about that with Bonnie.)

[lemotmo]

Yes forever grateful that they didn't go that route now because the Eddie hate would have been more than I would tolerate.

Q. I don't understand why it's taking so long though. It's been years of stalling. We're all tired. Give us Buddie now.

A. It's been years for us, but it has not been years as far as the show is concerned. Yes for us it has been 7 years of build up, and yes, the show gave winks and nods to it throughout the seasons BUT it has never been acknowledged within the actual text of the show until this season. The show didn't start the build up clock until season 8, we could probably technically say they started it last season with episode 7x4, but the actual possibility was never mentioned on screen until season 8. There is a tried and true formula for telling a friends to lovers storyline. There are particular story beats each character has to hit and there are particular plot points the storyline has to have as well. Everyone pretty much follows the same formula. They could have had the two of them hook-up out of grief over Bobby, grief hookups are one of the paths you could take with that formula. But if they had gone down that particular path the formula dictates that one of them, in this case it most likely would have been Eddie, would have to say the hook-up was a mistake. Even though they wouldn't really think that the trope dictates they say that. That's how you get to the mutual pining stage of the formula. The insane, unnecessary, and frankly inappropriate amount of Eddie hate that would have caused is something I am forever grateful the show avoided. I do not allow Eddie hate.

The formula is feelings realization, awkwardness, mutual pining, everyone else in their lives being painfully aware, but the protagonists being unaware, canon event that propels some kind of confession, first kiss, more awkwardness, canon couple. There are various paths along this route they can choose to accomplish each of these things but this is the formula. And I don't want it rushed. TikTok, clip reels, and YouTube shorts have ruined an entire generation, maybe two, ability to take in media in real time as it happens. Let them tell the story. I want the story. I don't want a 2 minute TikTok reel. I want to see the realization moment for both of them. I want the awkwardness. I want the mutual PINING. I want all of it because we, and Oliver and Ryan, have earned this storyline. And I want it spoon fed to me. I want to watch Oliver and Ryan swoon and kill me with chemistry. FEED ME.

Thank you Nonny!

It's most definitely true that, ever since season 7, they have obviously been building up to Buddie canon. I never really thought we'd get Buddie canon until ABC took over and they started promoting season 7. They were really giving focus to Ryan and Oliver and Buddie.

And then, when season 7 aired and Buck came out as bi? Well, I was certain then and I'm still certain now.

I do think we were supposed to get something more during the latter half of season 8 than we ended up getting. Whatever it was that went down behind the scenes, Bobby's sudden death really messed up the rest of the season and one of the stories that got pushed to season 9 was Buddie.

But season 8 gave us sooo much to work with that I'm not complaining. I had hoped for something more in 8x18. Some kind of a bigger nudge in the right direction, but ultimately I'm not really mad about it. We got sooo much in 8x17 that I'm okay with the tiniest hints in 8x18.

Besides 8x18 gave us heroic Eddie Diaz and I'm still swooning over those scenes. 🤗😌

And yeah, I agree with Ali. I need to see it all! I want to see their story unfold on my TV screen, so I can yell and scream and go crazy over them. Having one of your ships go canon is an amazing feeling. I'm ready for it. 😋

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[sometimesoliloquy]

all of our time chasing America, but she never had a home for me

In season 2, desperate with worry over June's mental health, Nick says to Serena "She doesn't have anyone to look out for her." Serena rightly points out "It appears that she does". Through the years, through thick and thin, even when she was back with Luke and Nick remarried to Rose, he was always there looking out for her. But in the end it appears it was Nick who never had anyone to look out for him.

Nick—as a young man, essentially abandoned by his family, failed by his society and his country. Left without a safety net by the greed and corruption of a capitalist oligarchy masquerading as an equitable democracy. And finally, he ends up failed and abandoned by his own love, the very love that held so much potential to save him as it had saved her. The woman he did and would do anything for but who ultimately refused to fight for him when the raw face of his flawed humanity held up too painful a mirror to her own.

London Grammar’s beautiful song “America” has always made me think of Nick ever since I first heard it four years ago, but now, in the aftermath of season 6 and the series ending, it hits harder (and more tragically) than ever. Interestingly, the artist’s intended meaning behind the lyrics was a more symbolic one, using “the American dream” as a metaphor for her own personal journey of letting go.

But relating to the character of Nick, I think it also works very nicely as a more literal interpretation of how the America in the (semi)fictional world of The Handmaid’s Tale (and June, herself, in representing a much more privileged and complacent sector of that society) let him and so many others like him down—and how our real world America indeed continues to do the same.

How the “American Dream” has essentially become a cruel mirage for too large a swathe of the population, left to flounder and fight for meager scraps, all the while disdained by folks looking down from up on high scoffing “pull yourself up by your bootstraps!”, who themselves have never struggled to literally afford a pair of boots for them or their children.

I get that the writers and show runners wanted to hit a political message with their ending. What I’ll never understand though is the message they ultimately chose to send—one reeking of elitism, classism and non-intersectional white feminism—when they had such an important and poignant opportunity staring them right in the face, one that is both (unfortunately) timely and timeless.

The show really had a chance to highlight the socio-economic oppression that results from corrupt capitalist societies and exacerbates harmful societal division. Which, combined with self-absorbed, self righteous complacency from the upper and middle classes (often even in the most “liberal” and “progressive” populations), makes the rise of totalitarian regimes possible, with those would-be groups looking to grab power (exactly like the fictional Sons of Jacob) thriving on the confusion and division, the “othering” of certain groups, and preying on the most lost and vulnerable in society, those who are disillusioned and desperate, failed by their government and tossed aside by their fellow citizens who view themselves as more “deserving”.

Instead those in charge of THT seem to have doubled down on the idea that certain groups of people are in fact less deserving, in the end providing forgiveness and redemptive arcs for two major architects and founders of Gilead, a baby thieving rapist, and a cattle-prod-happy torturer of women. But not for the disadvantaged young man who got conned into a violent cult parading as a faith-based charity organization for a job and ended up a reluctant citizen of a totalitarian regime with a small amount of power.

They could have presented a message that sometimes good people do bad things out of ignorance and/or desperation, but are still worthy of being saved. That if they have a good heart and want do the right thing, all they might need is someone to say "I see you, I understand." To reach out a hand to help pull them out of the darkness. Instead they gave the character with a tragic backstory an even more tragic ending, with ultimately no one who would fight for him. It's not a very hopeful message if you ask me.

(Sooo this was part of a much much longer review I was writing on my phone in gmail drafts which gmail then decided to delete so fuck me, I guess😅😅😭 Anyway, this is all that was left and I don't have the energy to reconstruct it all, at least definitely not rn, so I guess I'll just leave this excerpt here.)

[themothwhisperer]

People really only understand what they want to understand. Just because Abby was clearly written as competent doesn’t mean Ellie is, as a result, incompetent. Like how does that even make sense? Why would these things automatically be mutual causation? How is that the only logical conclusion?

Okay, yes, Abby is more skilled. That’s for sure. She’s more prepared and more trained. She was actively working on herself both physically and mentally for years. Even though she’s not as muscular as she was in the game, her abilities are displayed clearly. She’s part of a military group in which she most certainly went through some high level training for firearms handling and close combat, amongst many other things. She understands all the inner works required to be a good soldier because that’s exactly what she is. Another thing to consider is the fact that Abby is older than Ellie. If I’m not mistaken, in the game it’s only about a year or two, but it could be more in the show. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in her mid twenties. Regardless, a few years make an astronomical difference if we consider Ellie is only 19 years old. It’s extremely different in terms of maturity and developed psychological toolset. Especially if we consider their learning experiences and the type of communities they respectively evolved in. For Abby it was rigid, inculcating strict and solid ideologies. She’s a fighter and she knows what being at war is like. She understands all of those concepts already.

I also wish to highlight the fact that she’s probably an above average soldier. We all heard what Isaac said about her in the finale. She’s special for the WLF. That’s another aspect reinforcing the idea that, yes, she is insanely proficient at what she does. Therefore, it’s normal for Ellie to be inferior in this regard specifically.

When it comes to Ellie, she’s young and it’s in her character to be very impulsive. She’s not known to be strategic and calculated. She acts on her emotions and she doesn’t have all the knowledge Abby has. Not to the same degree at least. Another very massive aspect to consider is the fact that she never got the chance to be ready for this. Joel dying was a tragedy nobody could expect. Ellie barely took the time to process and she was already on the road with Dina and Shimmer. Completely unprepared and fully unaware of what she was getting into with the situation already occurring in Seattle. On the other side, Abby took a considerable amount of time to get ready for her revenge. She got to her target with a very structured approach. Also, just keep in mind that the Jackson community is not an army-like faction (as opposed to the WLF). Jackson is all about survival and protection. It’s all regular people contributing to the collective prosperity with their own strengths and abilities. Whether it’s cooking, gardening, healing others, building, guarding the gates, going on patrols to protect or whatever else, they are not as familiar and as regularly exposed to human versus human violence. They mostly fight off infected.

So no, Ellie is not incompetent. She’s not stupid either. She just doesn’t know better. She’s going through the biggest hardships of her life and she’s not ready. But it’s too late now, she went too far. She must deal with what she doesn’t know and do her best. As an audience, it’s normal to feel that too.

Abby is exceptionally competent, that is true.

But it doesn’t change the fact that Ellie is very resourceful considering everything. Give her some credit.

[alexbkrieger13]

https://www.alt.dk/sundhed/artikler/pernille-harder-fodbold-udvikling/5572295

Pernille Harder: “I wanted to be a boy because I didn't think there was a national team for women”

Pernille Harder has been named Danish female player of the year eight times, and in 2020 she was named the world's best footballer. She currently plays for Bayern Munich, but at Euro 2025 she will once again captain the Danish national team.

How did you experience the possibilities of becoming a professional when you played football as a child?

"I always wanted to be a professional, but when I was little I wanted to be a boy because I didn't think there was a women's national team. 

So I had short hair and wore boys' clothes. 

"When my sister told me that you could play on a women's national team, I knew I could make my dream come true, so my goal became to make a living playing football."

How have you experienced the development in women's football?

"The first few years I played, development was relatively slow. When I joined the national team, as far as I know, there wasn't a national team contract – you just got some cash at the airport when you had to leave to play. When I was young, women's football was never shown on TV, and it wasn't written about. 

We lived a bit in hiding and played the sport we loved. In the last five to six years, however, a lot has happened. Leagues have started to become professional, we are starting to see transfers between clubs, and there are finals with new audience records. Women's football is starting to become a financial business with big sponsors.

It's starting to look like the men's side, although there are still far from the same amounts at stake."

What do you see as the most crucial thing that has happened in women's football in recent years?

"It's hard to say one thing, but the investment in football from the important people around the world, whether it's UEFA, FIFA or the different federations, is very important. 

"If there is to be development, it is important to see the potential in women's football."

How do you experience the audience interest today compared to when you started?

"There is a very big interest in club football. When I played at Chelsea (2020-2023, ed.), I could feel an enormous respect for women's football, and the same is happening now at the Danish national team matches. 

"In the last five to six years, I've started to be recognized on the street, and even though I don't play to be recognized, it's great to see that women's football has gotten there. When the young girls and boys see us, they don't think men's or women's football, for them it's just football, and when I hear that, we've come a long way."

Has the media's interest also changed?

"It has definitely gotten better, but there is still room for improvement. When we played the European Championship in Sweden in 2013, it was only written about when we reached the semi-finals, but for the European Championship in the Netherlands in 2017, the media was there from the start. 

"That European Championship was a milestone for Danish women's football because we reached the final, and thus many people opened their eyes to the sport. The final rounds generally mean a lot to women's football because the matches are shown on TV all over Europe, and it gives enormous attention."

What are your expectations for Euro 2025?

"It's going to be big and exciting. A lot of teams are extremely even, so I feel like everyone can beat each other. On paper, there might be some teams that should be better than us if you look at previous finals, but if we have a good day, it's possible to beat anyone."

How do you see women's football developing over the next 10 years?

"The good development will only continue, and we will approach men's football more and more in terms of transfers between clubs and the length of contracts.

"Right now, transfers are only happening with the very best players, but I think it will become much more common. I also think that UEFA and FIFA will start investing more money in women's football, and that's so important because it makes it easier for the federations to give women the same conditions as men."

What do you hope future generations of girls think when they see you play?

"That they are inspired and want to start playing football themselves. And that they know that they can all make their dream of becoming professional football players come true, if that's what they want."

[yukkiji]

third time's the charm

you’ve had a quiet but unwavering crush on tsukishima kei throughout high school. from his sharp rejections in first year to the subtle softening of his guarded heart by third year, your persistence slowly breaks through his walls. between harsh words, stolen glances, and small acts of kindness, you both navigate pride, vulnerability, and the slow burn of something real — making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, third time’s the charm.

starring. tsukishima kei x fem!reader ft. the first year gang (hinata, yachi, yamaguchi, kageyama)

genre: fluff, romance, slowburn, grumpy x sunshine,

wc: 4.1k

author's note: i got bit carried away with this one with the amount of words, since this a bit inspired by me having a crush on the same person during highschool and was always rejected lol thank god he always rejected me though hahahahha

it started with a rejection.

it was not the quiet, apologetic kind. it wasn't even a vague, gentle letdown.

you had barely even finished the words "i like you" before tsukishima kei, obviously unmoved, muttered a flat, "no thanks. i'm not interested."

you blinked at him under the afternoon sun, heard thudding in your ears, too stunned to process the way he turned and walked away. no sugarcoating. it was just typical tsukishima. just cold, brutal honesty.

and yet—somehow—you didn't give up.

you first met tsukishima kei through yachi hitoka.

you were from a different class, but the two of you were friends since you both lived in the same apartment building.

yachi had dragged you to karasuno's volleyball practice one afternoon, pleading with you to help her carry some boxes of water and first aid supplies. she was the newly recruited manager. you had no real reason to go—you weren’t particularly into volleyball—but you owed yachi a favor.

and that's where you saw him.

tall, aloof, and sharp-tongued, tsukishima wasn't exactly what you'd call approachable. but something about him fascinated you. maybe it was the quiet fire behind his eyes, or how he seemed to carry the weight of ambition without ever admitting he cared.

you didn't know what possessed you to like him.

maybe it was the way his eyes narrowed in concentration or how he always looked vaguely annoyed with the world, yet never missed a block. maybe it was how he ignored the chaos around him, but occasionally paused to push his glasses up in a way that made your chest flutter.

whatever it was, it rooted itself in your chest.

you started attending their practice more frequently, using yachi as an excuse most of the time. you were okay with helping and be quick to accept her in her tasks. at this point, you were the third "unofficial" manager of the team. kiyoko even offered you formally the position, which you gently turned down.

you started small. a bottle of energy drink with a post-it: "good luck!" (yachi delivered it, of course). you've also made him a neatly wrapped onigiri for one of their practice match. a chocolate bar with a tiny sticker that said "for #11". yachi was happy to always give them though.

a few weeks later you confessed.

he didn't even blink. "no thanks, i'm not interested"

it stung.

you should've stop.

but you didn't.

"it's okay!" you smiled. "i'll still cheer for you."

tsukishima scoffs, before walking away.

you did kept your promise. when it was the final match of the miyagi prefectural spring qualifiers against shiratorizawa, you were there. cheering him on. you were sitting with yachi by the stands. tsukishima would glance in your direction by time to time and everytime he would scoff afterwards.

"tsukki's blocks are on point today."

"i've also noticed that." you agreed with yachi. "maybe because this is the finals. once they win, they'll go to tokyo."

“maybe because you’re here.”

you rolled your eyes at her.

your conversation with yachi was cut off when the referee whistled for a substitution. kiyoko was running out of the court with tsukishima who looked like he was in pain while holding his other hand. you could see there was a bit of blood dripping from his pinky.

this made you worried, but there was nothing you can do and you can't go to the infirmary since you were not their manager to begin with. yachi reassures you though that he would be alright.

tsukishima returned to the game but his hand was now in bandages, which made you sigh in relief. after the match, you and yachi went down to meet with the rest of the team to congratulate them. you caught tsukishima who was headed to the changing rooms. his hand was unbandaged now, the makeshift tape coming loose.

"wait, kei." you called out softly.

he turned with a tired glance. you lifted up the small kit.

"let me help. your pinky—it's not taped properly."

he frowned, obviously reluctant, but after a beat, he sighed and nodded. "fine. just be quick."

you sat with him just outside the infirmary, the crowd still buzzing in the background. with practiced gentleness, you cleaned the small scrape and began wrapping his finger again.

"you’re not a medic," he muttered, watching your careful work.

"no, but i’ve had practice with sprains. and you’re not exactly gentle with yourself."

he huffed but didn’t pull away. you worked in silence, brushing your fingers lightly over his.

"you didn’t have to do this."

"i wanted to. you were amazing tonight."

he looked at you then—really looked. but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

you tied the final bit of tape. "there. try not to break more fingers next time."

he clicked his tongue but said nothing as you stood and offered a faint smile before walking away to look for yachi.

you didn't go to see them off when they were bound to tokyo for the nationals and you can’t also watch them in person. since you just can't skip classes. yachi who was currently at the door of your apartment is pleading you to go with them, but you told her that you really couldn't skip classes and she muttered under breath, "tsukki's gonna be in a foul mood if you don't come."

"what?"

"nothing." she said, pouting.

you handed yachi a omamori and smiled, "give this to kei and tell him good luck."

yachi gave you a teasing look before safely putting the good luck charm inside her bag. "don't you want to give up."

you shook your head. "nope."

"well, who am i to even stop you in the first place."

yachi delivered your apology and good lucks to the team, along with the good luck charm for tsukishima. yachi gave a tsukishima a teasing smile before going up to kiyoko.

back at practice in tokyo, hinata pouted, “it’s weird not having her around, isn’t it?”

yamaguchi grinned. “tsukki’s been extra grumpy. coincidence?”

“i am not,” tsukishima snapped, shooting them a glare.

yachi giggled nervously. “you do seem… quieter than usual.”

he shoved his glasses up. “don’t be ridiculous.”

but he didn’t deny it.

when second year rolled around, your feelings didn’t fade. if anything, they deepened. you still showed up to every game and practice matches and even made special chocolate for valentine's (you also made for the rest of the team since you've gotten close to them at this point). sometimes, even protein bars or sports drink after practice which is of course, delivered by yachi.

your persistence has become a running joke among the team.

yamaguchi once asked you with a laugh, "are you planning on confessing again today, or are you giving him a snack break first?"

you just grinned. "depends on his mood."

but underneath the teasing was a fondness—a recognition of how constant you were.

"he pretends he doesn’t care," yachi whispered during lunch, poking at her food, "but i saw him keep the wrapper from the chocolate you gave him."

you paused. "really?"

she nodded quickly. "he doesn’t throw your stuff out anymore. i think that’s progress."

you had no illusions. tsukishima wasn’t the type to fall headfirst into anything, let alone a high school crush. he was cold, calculating, and painfully aware of how others perceived him. but still, you kept showing up. and something began to shift.

you noticed it in little things.

he’d stop walking away so quickly when you talked to him.

he’d take the snacks directly from your hand instead of through yachi.

he’d grumble, "tch, unnecessary," but still pocket the sweets.

and when a third-year on the basketball team tried to flirt with you behind the gym one day, tsukishima appeared like a shadow.

"she’s busy," he said, stepping in just slightly in front of you.

"didn’t think you cared, tsukishima."

"i don’t. but she has bad taste, so someone has to keep her alive."

you were too stunned to respond.

but later that day, you gave him a lemon soda. he didn’t say thank you, but he drank it in front of you this time.

another incident where you were helping out yamaguchi and yachi pin sponsorship posters for the spring tournament, yamaguchi said something that also stuck to you.

“he gets grumpy when you’re not at games,” yamaguchi said casually one afternoon while you were helping yachi pin posters for the spring tournament.

you paused. “what?”

he grinned, too knowing. “he’ll never admit it. but if you’re not there cheering… his blocks aren’t as sharp. his mood dips. i think he’s gotten used to you.”

your heart fluttered at the idea. but then you remembered the way kei would scoff every time you got too close. you knew better than to get your hopes up.

still—you showed up. you always did.

your second confession came during the school festival.

the night air was cool against your skin, carrying the faint scent of grilled food and melted candy. the laughter and chatter of your classmates echoed in the distance, muffled by the steady beat of your heart as you walked toward the back of the school building.

fireworks lit up the sky above, loud and brilliant—explosions of crimson, blue, and gold that danced across the clouds and cast flickering shadows against the rooftop. the world felt briefly suspended in light.

and there he was.

tsukishima kei stood near the railing, just out of view from the main festivities, bathed in the soft glow of firework shimmer. his arms were loosely crossed, posture relaxed but solitary, as if the weight of the night pressed too closely in crowded spaces.

you hesitated at first, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeves. but you took a step forward anyway.

“kei.” you called out, gently.

he didn’t look surprised.

his eyes flicked toward you, half-lidded, unbothered. the familiar indifference was there in the slight tilt of his chin, the unimpressed slant of his brow.

“let me guess,” he drawled, his voice a little more subdued than usual, “another confession?”

you smiled, small. not embarrassed, not hopeful. just honest.

“yeah.”

a beat of silence followed. he didn’t scoff this time. didn’t shake his head or turn away. he just… looked up. toward the sky. toward the bursts of light painting the clouds.

“you’re wasting your time,” he said at last, tone flat, like he was stating a fact more than trying to hurt you.

you nodded slowly, the corners of your lips dipping in acceptance. “probably. but i still like you.”

another silence stretched between you. but it wasn’t heavy.

it felt like the space after a long breath. like neither of you needed to say anything else to fill it.

kei didn’t walk away this time.

he stayed there, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes on the horizon as the last few fireworks painted gold into his blond hair and soft shadows under his eyes.

he didn’t say thank you. or i’m sorry. or don’t.

but he didn’t push you away either.

his shoulders had relaxed slightly. the usual edge in his stance—the one that screamed don’t get close—had dulled. and though he didn’t look at you, he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

so you stood beside him, close enough to hear the way his breath caught with each firework burst.

the world was quiet in that little space you shared. no declarations. no grand romantic gestures. just the sound of distant music, the echo of fireworks, and the stubborn truth you carried in your chest.

you took his silence as progress.

because sometimes staying said more than any rejection ever could.

by the third year, something between you had changed.

you weren’t just a background character in his day anymore. you were there—persistent, present, and impossible to ignore.

you weren’t loud about it. never demanding, never clingy. but your presence threaded itself into his routine like a habit he didn’t remember forming.

you learned the rhythms of his life: when he had exams and needed space to study, when his knees hurt after long practices and he walked with just the slightest wince. you started carrying an extra pain patch in your bag without saying why. you knew when he wanted silence—those days when the weight of everything made him sharper-tongued than usual—and when he needed a distraction, even if he never asked for one.

he learned things, too. things you hadn’t meant for him to notice.

that you liked melon bread more than any other snack, even though you pretended not to be picky. that you always hummed softly under your breath when you were nervous—little melodies that stopped just short of forming actual songs. that your smile was always a little brighter, a little fuller, whenever you handed him something: a drink, a small note, chocolates during valentine’s—even when you knew he wouldn’t react the way you hoped.

he caught himself watching you more often than he liked to admit.

once, during a water break at practice, you were talking to yachi near the gym doors. your laughter filtered in easily, soft and light. tsukishima glanced your way—just a glance—and lingered too long.

yamaguchi caught him.

“you like her, don’t you?” tadashi asked later, a little too casually.

“shut up,” kei muttered, not looking up from the sports drink he was pretending to be way too interested in.

tadashi grinned. “you literally growled at that guy from nekoma for asking her where she bought her jacket.”

“he was being weird.”

“jealousy looks weird on you, kei.”

“i will end you.”

but even that was different. because he didn’t deny it.

and maybe that meant something.

still, it wasn’t all teasing and harmless glances. there were moments where something heavier settled between you—where kei seemed at war with himself, tugged between pride and something softer he didn’t quite know how to carry.

after a tough loss at an practice match—one that hit harder because it was close—he sat outside the gym alone. the sky was already going gray, the air damp with oncoming rain. everyone else had filed into the bus, too tired to say much.

you didn’t ask for permission. you just stepped off the bus, walked quietly over, and sat beside him.

you didn’t say anything. just handed him a canned coffee—his favorite kind, the bitter one you personally thought tasted like disappointment—and let the silence breathe.

ten minutes passed. long and quiet and a little raw.

finally, he spoke.

“you don’t have to keep trying.”

his voice was low. tired. defeated in a way you rarely saw from him.

“i’m not worth it.”

you turned to look at him, blinking slowly, your heart pulling tight.

“you don’t get to decide what’s worth it for me.”

his shoulders tensed, jaw clenching briefly. he didn’t look at you. but he didn’t move away either.

he didn’t say anything after that.

you stayed until he finished the coffee.

then nationals came by. you were determined to watch them after learning that they've advance to the semi finals and were finally back at the center court. you were about to pull some strings, but good thing the vice principal was nice enough to let the students watch they volleyball team in tokyo.

the nationals were everything.

for karasuno, it was the culmination of years of growth, grit, and stubborn perseverance. for you, it was watching him—the boy who once scoffed at your feelings—rise higher than anyone expected, one perfectly timed block at a time.

you cheered until your throat was raw. you clutched your chest with every rally. and when they secured third place, you stood in the stands, tears in your eyes and pride blooming so fiercely in your chest it almost hurt.

you were proud of all of them—of kageyama’s precision, of hinata’s impossible speed, of yamaguchi’s quiet bravery—but mostly, you were proud of him.

tsukishima kei.

he had changed. not loudly, not in some grand sweeping arc. but little by little, he had let himself care. you saw it in the way he threw himself into every play, in the way he smirked after a well-timed block, in the way he started calling his teammates by name.

but still, you didn’t confess that day. not yet.

because this time, you needed it to be real. not a question, not a whim, not a gamble.

late that night, when the stadium had emptied and the streets had quieted, you found him.

the gym was dim and nearly silent, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant clatter of janitorial carts somewhere down the hall. he stood near center court, his jersey still clinging to him with sweat and exhaustion. his head was tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling as though he were still replaying the match in his mind.

you stopped in the doorway, watching him quietly for a moment.

“karasuno did amazing,” you whispered, the words reverent. like praise. like prayer.

he didn’t look at you, but his voice came low. “could’ve done better.”

you stepped closer, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished gym floor. “tsukki…”

he turned, eyes meeting yours finally.

“…this is the last time.”

his brows drew together, faintly. he said nothing, but you could feel the tension in the air tighten, like the pause before a serve.

“i like you,” you said, voice shaking but certain. “i’ve liked you for three years. but this is the last time i’ll say it. if you reject me now, i’ll stop.”

the silence stretched, taut as a string pulled too tight.

then he sighed. looked away.

“you’re so stupid,” he muttered, the words quiet but harsh. “wasting your time on someone like me.”

you bit your lip, but still smiled through the sting. “probably.”

something shifted. his shoulders, usually squared and defensive, lowered a fraction. and then—he stepped closer.

“you never left,” he said, softer now. “even when i was an ass. even when i pretended not to care.”

your breath caught. he wasn’t looking at you directly, but his hands were fidgeting at his sides, clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“i noticed,” he admitted. “everything. the snacks. the cheering. the stupid little notes you kept sneaking into my locker. i noticed all of it.”

his voice cracked slightly, like the admission cost him something.

“i just… i didn’t know how to deal with someone who actually gave a damn.”

you didn’t move. you didn’t speak.

then his hand lifted—hesitant, trembling just barely—and his fingers brushed against your cheek. awkward. gentle. like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face.

“i don’t want you to stop,” he whispered.

you let out a shaky laugh, relief bubbling up in your chest like the end of a long, aching winter. “took you long enough.”

and finally—finally—he leaned in.

you met him halfway.

the kiss wasn’t perfect. it was hesitant and slightly off-center, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers where they now cupped your jaw. but it was soft and real and so full of everything unsaid over three long years. years of cold shoulders, soft glances, unnoticed favors, and a hundred quiet hopes.

when you pulled away, breath mingling, your forehead rested against his, and for a moment, everything was still.

and then—

“tsukki kissed her!!”

hinata’s voice echoed across the gym like a fire alarm.

you both froze.

tsukishima turned slowly, murder in his eyes.

yachi stumbled into view, wide-eyed with panic. “we weren’t spying!”

“you were literally hiding behind the curtain,” you deadpanned, not even bothering to sound surprised.

“i tried to stop them!” yachi insisted, flapping her arms like a terrified bird. “they dragged me into it!”

yamaguchi emerged next, dragging a snickering hinata by the collar while kageyama followed, red-faced and visibly trying not to make eye contact.

“i swear to god,” tsukishima muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i will kill all of you.”

“totally worth it,” hinata whispered loudly to yamaguchi, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“told you she’d get you eventually,” yamaguchi added, clearly far too smug for his own good.

you glanced at tsukishima. he was glaring, his cheeks faintly pink, jaw clenched like he was weighing the pros and cons of turning around and walking into traffic.

but his hand was still resting lightly against your back.

so maybe, you thought, as you looked at him—just maybe—he didn’t mind being caught after all.

graduation day arrived too soon.

the campus buzzed with a bittersweet energy—laughter ringing out over caps and gowns, tearful hugs exchanged in hallways, and the steady click of camera shutters capturing fleeting moments. you held your diploma in one hand and your future in the other, but your eyes searched for him.

and there he was.

standing beneath the arching cherry blossoms, hands in his pockets, tassel swinging lazily from his cap. the same spot where you’d confessed to him just a year ago. the same courtyard where everything had changed.

you walked over, heels crunching lightly on fallen petals, nerves fluttering even now—because even after everything, this still felt surreal.

"still not tired of me?" you asked, voice light, teasing—just enough to cover the emotion behind it.

tsukishima glanced your way, and for a moment, the world hushed.

he rolled his eyes, but the edge that used to come with it was gone—softened into something warm, familiar. he was smiling now. that small, rare smile he saved just for you.

"not even close," he murmured.

and then he leaned in, fingers brushing your jaw with quiet certainty, and kissed you. there was no hesitation this time. no guarded edges. just the press of his lips against yours, firm and steady and full of promise.

because you waited.

because you stayed.

because you never gave up on him—not even when he pushed you away, not even when he said nothing at all.

and against all odds, tsukishima kei had fallen in love.

with you.

and in that moment, with cherry blossoms drifting like confetti around you, you knew:

it had been worth every awkward silence.

every rejection.

every year of trying.

because this—this—was everything.

bonus scene.

years passed.

the sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood floors was replaced with roaring crowds, giant jumbotrons, and professional-level pressure. but some things hadn’t changed.

you still sat in the stands, heart in your throat, cheering louder than anyone else. you still kept your eyes on him——watching every block, every play, every subtle tilt of his head. the arenas were bigger now, the spotlight brighter. but to you, he was still kei. still the boy who used to hide behind sarcasm and side comments. still the boy who kissed you under cherry blossoms.

that night, his team had clawed their way to victory in a five-set thriller. the final point had the crowd erupting. you stood in the stands, clapping until your hands stung, pride burning in your chest like a second heartbeat.

afterward, you made your way to the side entrance—where the press couldn’t follow. you waited behind the barricades, bundled in your coat as the late winter air nipped at your cheeks. the cold settled in your bones, but you didn’t mind.

you always waited.

eventually, he appeared. his warm-up jacket was unzipped halfway, hair still damp from a quick rinse, duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder. he looked tired—but content. the kind of tired that came from giving everything he had.

his eyes scanned the crowd, ignoring reporters and staff—until they landed on you.

and softened.

"you always wait," he said, stepping closer until he stood on the other side of the gate.

"and you always win," you replied, smiling despite the chill.

he chuckled—low, breathy. real. he stepped past the barrier with ease, his hand catching yours before pulling you into his arms. his embrace was firm, grounding, like coming home.

his chin rested atop your head, and for a while, neither of you said anything. just the quiet thrum of distant cheers and the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

then, softly, almost like a secret:

“remember when you said you’d stop confessing if i rejected you again?”

you smiled into his chest. “yeah. i meant it, too.”

a beat of silence. then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze steady.

“i’m glad i didn’t.”

and then he kissed you—without restraint, without fear. it was deeper now. certain. the kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions anymore—it just knew.

you kissed him back with every piece of your heart.

because time had passed, but love had only deepened.

because he had chosen you—again and again and again.

and somewhere deep in your soul, you understood:

this was still only the beginning.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Injuries (drabble)

Warnings!: Injury described, canon-typical violence (you know, like war). Nightmare. Comfort. Off-screen kiss on the cheek. Swearing. [~2.2 k words]

Beneath your haunches, the ground is trembling with the force of the cracking bullets in the air, vibrations blasted through tainted oxygen so hard that they infect cracked concrete and really test your hearing protection.

The firefight is one of the nastiest you've seen yet. A concerning amount of the fire you hear is decidedly not cover fire, cracking off the (former) concrete pillar and it's collapsed sibling that are turning out to be nearly-perfect cover, even if there's more rebar and mesh than you would like.

Your comms are trying, poor things, but there's little to be done, and you know it when Gaz's voice cuts as he tries to relay orders to you. Or, hell, maybe they were orders, you couldn't hear shit through the static either way

Boot soles grit against sandy concrete as you try to bite out a return message. Position compromised, you try, but the words don't leave when you see what looks like a medium-sized stone tossed over your barrier.

"Fuck!"

You try to run, but the comm's wire (and with it, your hearing protection) is snagged, pulled out by a burr of rebar breaking through the pillar's surface, tangled hopelessly in the mesh.

There's no time, and still, you try.

Always assume that a grenade tossed at you has two seconds or less till it does its best to turn you into red mist.

You had forgot.

And still, the blast is never quite as small as you think.

There is no pain in the immediate seconds after, and you silently thank deaf ears in the heavens for adrenaline, until you spot a movement a few meters away, peeking out from a corner.

It's automatic. Your rifle bends to your wills, a machine that is operated by an equally robotic entity. One of blood and one of metal. The way real warfare has been for thousands of years.

A body hits the floor, but you don't hear it, you see red painting the forehead, leaking through a too-weak helmet. You hide behind the more upright of the pillars, before watching another assailant burst from the corner, shoulders shaking as they grab their dispatched colleague by the shoulders, shaking them helplessly as though to will life back into their body.

Once more, you take a shot, and there is no miss.

It's a somber thing, but there is no time to offer condolences or sympathies, not when the broken box of your comms finally figures something out and flashes a yellow pinprick for you.

Evacuate ASAFP. You May Or May Not Be Important Enough To Wait For.

A twinge hits your arm as you lower it, and a wet warmth floods the area, but there's little time for that now. Having a chunk of grenade in your arm is preferable to being dead, by far.

Running has always been good for you.

You've never liked to sit still, not at work. The movement is what prompts the blood in your veins to pump, your heart to follow with hummingbird-fast beats. The burn in your lungs, it's what makes you real.

But, at the same time, the ache in your arm has taken time to grow as it stains your uniform with a deep red, forcing a sharp pain up your nerves and into your brainstem with every thump of your boots against the cracking ground.

You switch your rifle to your non-dominant hand, but it does little once the high of adrenaline starts to fade, and your foot also starts screeching its protest, weakening with each forced stride, no matter how much you push forward.

The helicopter is already raring to take off, and you try to shout out to your team, but you can't hear yourself.

Your foot hits the floor one last time, and flash of agony is so intense that it forces what should be another cry from you, but once more, no noise hits your ears.

Knees buckle, fabric is scraped off with skin in tow, and your damaged body lays heavy on the ground.

Another boot appears in your peripheral, and you try to look up.

Just before the face comes into focus, a particularly nasty gush of blood leaves the wound in your arm, and takes your vision with it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor beneath you is inky black, and cold.

A boot thuds down right before your face, and Price's face comes into focus, bristly bearded and bristling with rage.

His voice booms from seemingly everywhere around you, like you've been plugged into a surround-sound system made in hell.

"Rookie, whot the hell were you thinking, going in like that? You knew your coffin'd be empty if you died, right?"

It's so loud your ears are already starting to ache, the noise piercing every fiber of your being and rocking your cells with the vibrations, tearing your muscles apart from the inside.

A sharp sting spreads through your foot, but your neck refuses to allow you to look as muscles lock up, and another face steals away your attention, even as the pressure mounts.

"Ah, Cap, they're green. Might well bury'em alive. Sae's the time, aye?"

Soap's face is different. Low-sitting eyebrows pinched down, but a wicked smile present on thin lips, practically reveling as the floor seems to swallow you whole.

You know the laughter you hear, but it brings no comfort when you see Gaz cackling next to the Scot.

God, he looks so pretty when he laughs, and it does nothing but twist the knife when you watch him lean against Soap, before looking down at you.

"It's alright, luv. Some people just... don't make the cut. Way of the world, innit?"

The comfort is false, you know it is, but your damaged heart takes it anyway, to somehow make believe that it's not your fault, that you had just aimed too high.

When Ghost appears, there's no more defense you can give yourself.

As usual, the only thing you can see is his eyes. Light brown like mud that's just about to crack, honeyed when the light hits just right.

He says nothing, but he turns away, and some part of you can't allow that, even as the room starts to pivot on some axis you can't see.

You try to reach forward, to plead, but your voice doesn't work, and your legs are stuck, sinking into the black with no foreseeable way out, rotating faster and faster, a bug spiraling down into the drain.

A grating, long BEEEEEEEEEP floods the space around you first, painfully high-pitched and absolutely unbearable because it seems to match exactly with the ringing flooding into your ears.

You're certain that there are a few specific parts of your body that ache, but in the haze of painkillers, it's a simple dullness.

That being, until hands are on your shoulders.

Price stands above you, brows pulled down in worry, lips tuned in a stiff frown, and he speaks.

"------! - ------- --- ---- ----! --- ---- –"

He pauses when he watches you fail to acknowledge what he's saying, staring up at him with a pinch in your brow, eyes calculating as always, but now trying to put together what he's saying.

"-- --. ---, ---- -------! ----'-- --- -----."

Price's head follows a movement you only catch the tail end of. A body leaves the door, walking quickly, but there's no squeak of boots on linoleum.

His hand is under your chin, then, gently guiding you to look back up at him, baby blue eyes full of sympathy, a fatherly sort of concern that looks oddly welcome on his weathered face.

Price is slow to move, making sure you watch as he gently takes the plastic cup from the crappy nightstand beside the stiff bed your body lays on, taking a mock sip himself before holding it out to you.

Something is wrong, but you reach out a lead-heavy arm anyway.

It doesn't work very well, but thankfully Price catches it before it can spill.

It's humiliating, sure, but you still sip when the plastic rim kisses your parched lips.

You don't look, but if you had, you would see John smiling, reassured, ever so slightly, that you'd be alright. Not quite the v-shape you had come to know, but close enough.

You smile back, in turn. Weakly, but you do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap spends a good deal of time in your room, in the first few days.

It's like he refuses to let hospital food actually be eaten by you, with how he keeps on bringing over his leftovers and heating them up in the microwave down the hall for you.

The first time, it's soup. Then, a stew, a little thicker, with some bread, which is followed by a simple sandwich.

But that's not all. He's joking with you the whole time, smiling as you come back into being a person again.

Yet another day, and the door opens.

The trial hearing aid planted in your ear does little to muffle the ringing that has become characteristic since your injury, but when the hinges squeak, your tired head snaps over to the Scot in your doorway.

"Fuck. Simmer down some, hen o' mine. Don't stare at me like that. I got ye sumthin'."

Your curiosity is met with a chuckle, and a small, wrapped package being set into your lap. After a few seconds of stillness, he gently prods you to open it.

A book of sudoku, crossword, and other puzzles. "To pass the time," Johnny says fondly. "Gotta keep the brain sharp, I'm sure."

He's sat beside your bed, and for once, you dare to do something new. You reach for his shoulder with an arm, and pull him into yourself.

That's the first time you have the balls to hug someone you work with.

He hugs you back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The diagnosis is only half shocking.

To you, that is still much too shocking to be comfortable, but Gaz, by your side, is much more active than you, in the discussion.

"Nerve damage? To what, specifically?"

"They can recover, right?"

"Would you recommend surgery or physical therapy? Both?"

"What's the timeline before they can have a re-evaluation for service?"

John had insisted that someone went along with you, and the Lieutenant was out training with Soap. So, that left Gaz.

He's a very good patient advocate, really, and at some point, you start looking at him in his seat beside you instead of paying all your attention to the doctor.

The white light is the pure opposite of flattering, but he manages to look good because of course he does, he's Gaz.

Brown eyes suddenly snap over to you, and his lips turn down slightly in concern before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, jostling you just enough to call you back to reality.

"What? What's- is something wrong, Garrick?"

Your voice is a little rougher than usual, not properly pitched as per usual, but enough.

He sighs lightly, but starts to smile softly when he does.

"Your hearing aids are in, right luv?"

"Y- I- I think so?"

"Ringing or no ringing?"

"It's- mate, it's not supposed to go away for a few weeks, I don't think."

Your voice is a bit more practiced, that time. Better.

The doctor, across the desk, pauses in her scribbling on the notepad (you're sure they think they're writing something, but there is no way that those are words), and looks up at you.

"Dead right. I'm glad you're well-read on your condition."

Her voice rings out once, and in the quiet, an alarm rings.

"Shit. I am so sorry, we're running over and I need to get to my next appointment. I'll see the pair of you again in a week, alright?"

You nod, but Gaz, on your side, seems just a bit ticked by the ordeal, but he takes you with him, already whisking you off into the café to get you some actual food.

And hell, if you kiss him on the cheek when he drops you back off at your room for the night, that's alright. Your little secret.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I swear to God, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Lieutenant."

Your punches hit the bag repeatedly as your words bite from your lips, sweat-coated and annoyed.

"Not until you hit your previous times, sergeant."

Ghost, bastard he is, is training you again.

Sure, you're out of physical therapy now, and sure, you do want to train, but he's just such a bastard about it.

A particularly hard swing is where you focus that annoyance, and the bag very nearly comes back for your face.

He stops rocking on his heels, and the relative silence is soon broken.

"Good for the day."

He declares, and you look back up from the red, padded synthetic leather, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You wanted to be done for the day, right? You're done."

You stand, confused and maybe a bit upset, hands still wrapped up tight.

"No, I want to earn being done for the day. I was annoyed with you. Those are different."

There is a shift of the fabric of the mask you see, indicative of some sort of real facial expression.

"You're going to do just fine, rook."

His voice is warmer, this time.

[slutzforbueckers]

Hi! Love your work! Thought maybe action #9 sending text/pictures where maybe reader & paige were texting back and forth but then paige got a message from the team chat at the same time and sent her wild response to the team and not reader on accident! Then damage control lol

oopsies

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: not rlly smut but kinda fluff too idfk

♡— synopsis: you and paige were in the middle of sexting when she got a message from the team groupchat… she accidentally sent the wrong message to the wrong chat.

❥•°❀°•༢

paige 💋💋

i miss your pretty pussy

so fucking good

you bit your bottom lip at her text, rolling over onto your stomach as you thought about what to say next. within the next few seconds you decided that a picture would probably do more justice than anything you could say.

you

*one attachment*

she misses you too p, dw

paige groaned when she saw the picture of your fingers spreading your pussy, your arousal clear by the string of slick connecting your fingertips. she pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve some pressure.

she started typing again immediately, barely able to focus with the heat pulsing between her legs. while she typed she got a notification from the team group chat, she didn’t bother to look as she raised her pointer finger and swiped it away.

what she didn’t realize was that she accidentally clicked on the notification instead of swiping it. her thumbs were clumsy as she quickly typed and sent the text without checking twice.

paige 🪣

fuck baby

i wanna spread you open n taste everything

i’d have you crying in like five minutes

she clicked out of the messages to answer the group chats text but when she clicked on it a picture of your cunt was staring back at her. paige’s brows furrowed in confusion and her eyes narrowed as she checked the name—it was your contact alright but where was the text she’d just sent?

paige thought she had maybe accidentally hallucinated it and she started to type it out again but then she started receiving a string of notifications from the group chat. she saw up quickly when she realized what she’d done.

aubrey 👵🏾

girl what???

kk 💃🏽

oh hell nah

REF DO SOMETHING

jana 🍃

omfg delete delete delete

QUICKLY

paige’s soul left her body, she stared at the screen in horror, the realization hitting so hard it made her physically recoil. “fuck fuck fuck,” she hissed, scrambling to unsend the message—but it was too late, everyone had seen it. she tried to flip it around, do and say anything to stop this from being brought up for the next 10 years of her life—even though that was totally unstoppable.

paige 🪣

im so so so sorry

i was literally hacked

this is literally ai

don’t believe everything you see on the internet

kk 💃🏽

girl boo 🌚

azzi 👑

no ai could do that amount of damage i fear…

caroline🙎🏻‍♀️

i hate to say this but you’re cooked

you laid on your stomach still, wondering what was taking paige so long to answer. you started to type another message out but then you saw the three little grey dots appear.

paige💋💋

babe…

i accidentally sent the team gc the wrong text

*one attachment*

you looked at the phone in confusion and clicked on the picture. it was a screenshot of paige’s group chat, her text were at the top—filthy words that should never be spoken to anyone other than her girlfriend.

you laughed, you couldn’t help it. all you could do was picture paige’s face when she realized—how mortified she must’ve looked. you called her immediately and she picked up after the first ring, her face red with embarrassment. “you know you’re never living that down, right?”

“shut up, it’s not funny.” paige groaned, running her hand down her face. you laughed a little harder and she turned a little more red, glaring at the phone like that was really enough to stop you from laughing. “okay bet, remember this tomorrow night.”

her voice dropped to a low tone and you stopped laughing, your face going still because you knew what she meant. paige raised her brows and smirked, thinking that she had finally silenced you—which she should’ve known better when that mischievous smile came back.

“one second, let me make sure i’m talking to the right person.”