#like fuck what does it even matter exactly if i get this degree or not? if i manage to barely drag myself through this? what does it matter

[magnoliamyrrh]

.

[froggibus]

Taking Care Of You While Sick - Obey Me!

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: hurt/comfort + fluff!

Summary: you get sick, and your favorite demon knows (or tries his best) just how to take care of you

CW: sick! Reader, fever, lots of medicine, satan being Satan, wholesome Beel

wow i wonder what could have possibly inspired me to write this one….weird. anyway I am still sick but thats okay cause i got to sleep 20 hours one day and watch all the marvel movies so pog. anyway enjoy <3

————

Lucifer 

doesn’t know much about human illnesses but knows when you’re getting sick 

 makes you get lots of bed rest

 will have medicine and fresh water for you around the clock

 offers to do his paperwork in your room to keep you company 

 you don’t really notice either way cause you’re asleep mostly 

 he does anyway tho cause he’s worried and wants to keep an eye on you

 corrects your temperature in your sleep too

 shivering? adds another blanket

 sweating? pulls the covers back and puts a cold cloth on your forehead

 “luc did you…swaddle me?”

 “you were cold”

 even after you get better he’s extra adamant about you taking vitamins 

Mammon 

 thinks you’re dying at first

 notices you’re much warmer than usual and actually thinks you’re going to light on fire

 panics and thinks lucifer is gonna kill him 

 you have to explain that you’re not actually dying but that you’re sick 

 probably has no idea what to do to help you

 just does what he likes when he’s sick

 brings you lots of fluids (especially juice)

 and soup

 expect lots of soup/ramen

 is with you 24/7

 “you’re MY responsibility so I gotta keep an eye on you”

 probably forgets to take care of himself in the process 

 so you make him drink your water/eat your soup/sleep 

 definitely sleeps with you with the excuse of ‘watching out for you’

Levi

 its just like in that anime he watched 

 except he really hopes you’re not dying like the MC in the anime was

 just does exactly what they did in the anime (but with a lot more blushing and stuttering)

 probably thinks you’d rather lucifer or mammon take care of you 

 you try to comfort him but you’re so tired that it just comes out as a bunch of mumbles 

 definitely has to give himself a peptalk (or five)

 “y/n is really sick rn, this isn’t about you, ok?”

 will feed you medicine if you’re not strong enough to do it yourself 

 you’re surprised at how well he’s handling things

 “ok y/n im gonna head back to my room but if you need anything tonight just text me ok?”

 “levi can you stay with me”

 thinks he’s misheard you at first

 malfunctions for a really long time 

 you’re already falling asleep by the time he decides to climb in bed with you

Satan

 has been waiting for this moment since you arrived 

 literally read so many books about human illness and immune systems 

 figured it was only a matter of time until you got sick

 is ready with juice and water and medicine 

 literally has everything you could possibly need 

 checks your temperature VERY delicately

 “fuck y/n you’re burning up”

 gets you a cold cloth for your forehead 

 even tho he knows everything he still is really nervous

 checks on you like every five minutes (if he even leaves your room)

 would make himself a bed on your floor so that if you need him in the night he’s there

 somehow you convince him to come lay with you 

 even tho you’re a million degrees 

 he’ll stay with you all night just to make sure you’re okay

 would definitely try and hunt down whoever infected you 

Asmo

 can tell you’re sick just by how clammy and washed out you look

 but he won’t say anything 

 probably makes you one of his ultra healthy super food smoothies

 even if it tastes gross he makes sure you drink it

 would probably spoon feed you food too

 insists you get lots of rest

 and when you can’t sleep he’s there to keep you company

 keeps up with your hygiene too

 will brush your hair/tie it up so that it doesn’t get tangled while you sleep

 gets a cloth to wipe down your face and applies lotion and chapstick 

 probably wouldn’t sleep with you cause he doesn’t want to get sick (even tho demons don’t share the same sicknesses with humans)

 but will stay in a phone call with you from his room all night and if you need anything he’s there in a heartbeat

 more medicine?

 he’s there

 but he’s so tired don’t expect him to return to his room after

Beel

 doesn’t know whats going on at first but makes an educated guess

 asks what you need instead of assuming 

 makes you lots of snacks + drinks

 i feel like he would hide your medicine in food like they do for dogs??

 idk it seems up his alley 

 also helps you with any tasks you may possibly need with

 homework? he’s on it (just don’t tell Lucifer)

 need to wash your hair but you’re too weak? all you gotta do is lean your head over the bathtub 

 he’ll take really good care of you

 would probably baby you a little tho

 like cut up your food into really small portions 

 and give you juice out of a sippy cup

 “beel where did you even find that?”

 “i-uhh—“

definitely watches movies with you until you fall asleep and stays to make sure you don’t need anything

Belphie 

probably knew you were sick before anyone else

tries to ignore it cause he totally doesn’t care

but your skin is hot!!

and you’re sweating a lot 

and your voice sounds…different?

eventually he has to give in and admit he’s worried about you

and since no one else is around he takes care of you

brings you water and medicine and offers to let you sleep in his bed

“just so I can wash your sheets! you’ll feel so much better in clean ones…”

even lets you sleep on his pillow

probably watches you sleep to make sure you’re still alive 

but can’t help and admire how peaceful you look 

pushes you to drink fluids and sleep LOTS 

and if you refuse to sleep?

well he’ll just have to make you sleep

masterlist

[privateanxieties]

these final hours

Summary: When your job becomes too overwhelming, Frank decides enough is enough. A brief conversation reveals that things run deeper than he thought.

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

His verdict comes down one Sunday evening, breaking you from the melancholic stupor you're well into traversing.

"Alright, that's it."

There's a part of you that wants to protest immediately. It's always the first one to make itself known, because it's the one that feels the most fear. No, you cannot just quit your job, no matter the toll it's taking on you. No matter how many people tell you it's making you fade. No matter how little you stand to gain from keeping it up. Because if you do, then - then -

"Don't look at me like that. I said that's enough. You ain't going tomorrow."

There is, however, another part of you: the one that could cry out in sheer relief just by being presented with an out.

You don't even know what it is, exactly. Everyone has to work who was not born fortunate. People have much harder jobs than you do, and they get paid even less. So many struggle to make ends meet. You have neither the long, nor the short straw. The work is completely average, though perhaps below your capabilities. Definitely below your studies - God knows you're not justifying any of those student loans, save for maybe lots of jobs requiring some kind of degree these days. No, you can't quite grasp where all this melancholia with regard to your job originates.

When you really look at your situation, you have to abstain from getting carried away by overwhelming disappointment over how unjustified all this grief seems. Things could be a hell of a lot worse. People go through things at work that render them suicidal, and here you are, on a Sunday night, sad that you have to wake up for your commute.

"Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me. Alright? Can't handle seein' you like this. Nothin's worth it, you hear me? Ain't a goddamn thing in this world worth what this shit does to you."

Frank's hand on your knee makes you immediately tense up. It's instantaneous sensory overload from a simple touch and you can't explain it. It bothers you that you can't explain because it's another thing that's wrong with you. Another overreaction to an inoffensive event.

Before you can move away or even just barely take a breath, the warmth of his skin disappears. You hate the relief that washes over you. Who feels better when someone they love stops being affectionate? You, apparently. Always against the grain.

"You know I'm not making you do anything. Yeah? Need to hear that you know that."

A nod is what you manage, but eye contact has yet to happen. You theorize that if it were to happen, if you were to see him in this moment of wild vulnerability, you'd probably want to run from him and all else in the world.

"You don't have shit to prove to anyone. You included. Can't try to beat yourself into a mold if that mold's just gonna take away all the best parts of you."

Your chest rattles, and you try to keep your breath from becoming a pained gasp.

"You know, just 'cause I read doesn't mean I'm good with words. That's all you. But I'll say whatever I gotta say to get through. I ain't losin' the woman I love to a fucking job. And I sure as shit ain't letting her believe she's gotta do what the world says she's gotta do. Break herself as many times as she has to just to get approval. Can't do shit with approval, I'll tell you that."

Against all odds, words tumble out of you like a knocked over pot of crayons. Sharpness everywhere.

"I fail at - at everything. I haven't done one thing right my whole life. I quit everything I start. Everything - Frank, I can't st-"

An involuntary sob rips straight from your heart.

"I can't stand myself. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of my days not belonging to me. I'm tired of getting nowhere. I'm tired of not having any good reason to be like this. Every day I have to know, I have to wake up and go to sleep and never stop knowing that I am the way that I am. And I wish something would just happen so I don't have to keep-"

It stops. The flow of words you've never said out loud, even to yourself, stops dead. The silence floods the remaining space without delay but it, too, does so fruitlessly.

Frank has heard enough. Enough to know exactly what you've sworn you would protect him from.

"Will you look at me?"

The softest plea. You don't think you've ever witnessed it.

"Need to see it. Yeah? I need to see it in your eyes, what you just said. And then we'll figure it out. But I need to know, sweetheart. Because if I gotta protect you from your own mind, Imma be honest with you - I need different gear."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but not completely unsuccessful. Mostly you just know that Frank means every word. And you know, as your gaze meets his at last, that the part of you that always resists outside help has lost some strength. You're not too far gone to be able to admit that your thoughts have been getting bleaker. It's a newness that scares even you, who's been down this path before. Somewhere, it seems a turn arrived that even you weren't aware you'd taken.

But Frank is nothing if not relentless. There is no road he won't track you down on and no path inaccessible to someone of his determination. You can see it in his eyes, along with the subtlest glimmer. You're making him worry, and when Frank worries, he plans. Ten, maybe twenty steps ahead - which is why he locks away your phone with his guns for the night. It's safe to say you won't have an alarm for tomorrow, and the relief that fact brings isn't unaccompanied by guilt. Frank soothes it with promises and his unique brand of realism - you'll get through everything together, as long as you're honest. No more hiding, no more detours.

You're not sure how good you'll be at it, and when you voice the thought to him, Frank doubles down as he pulls the covers back from the bed and you both slip under them.

"You know what being good at therapy looks like?"

You hum your curiosity.

"Not needing relief anymore. Promise to let me know when we get there. Yeah?"

You press your fragile promise into the skin of his cheek, tucking your head below his chin and wrapping as much of your body around him as possible and, for the first time in weeks, drifting off instead of fighting to sleep.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: just a short piece that I hope brings you some comfort if you need it.

[unhelpfulfemme]

Damen's also a victim of gaslighting if you think about it, and it explains so many things about him.

Kastor seems to have taken care of him a lot while he was growing up (based on the amount of childhood memories that Damen has with him) and Kastor also fucking hated him. A child in that situation will sort of self-gaslight, they'll convince themselves that they don't see what they do so they can maintain a fundamental sense of safety despite their objectively unsafe environment. The end result is exactly what Damen is - someone who's pretty bad at telling apart those who love him from those who mean him harm.

If Kastor treats him like shit - Kastor fucking stabbed the barely teen-aged heir to the throne in the guts, mind - that's because Kastor is treating him like a man, he's giving him tough love and not coddling him because a prince doesn't need coddling, he needs tempering and seasoning instead. Damen is lucky to have a brother who'll stab him in the guts so he can become a better man and ruler, unlike those arrogant, spoiled other princes who get *checks notes* affectionate relatives.

And if Kastor is treating him like a man that's because Damen's earned it - Damen has a particular fixation about "earning it", whatever "it" is in a particular situation, because the main issue of contention between him and Kastor is that Damen gets the throne by default, regardless of who deserves it more, and therefore (in Kastor's view) Damen is a Bad Person who's screwing him over by his very existence. Damen's answer to this is to make sure that he works hard and is the best at everything (and working hard for things is actually a genuinely good value to have, mind), because this way he DID earn it, he DOES deserve it more, the better man has the throne, so peace on planet Earth, right? But he doesn't understand how this just further humiliates and angers Kastor, who then vengefully retaliates, the truth of which Damen, who loves Kastor and seeks his approval, can't handle emotionally, necessitating the "this is tough love, because I'm a strong man" mental defense.

I think this is interesting because it really spills over into Damen's incorrect conclusions about Laurent, sometimes in kinda embarrassingly stupid ways - because Veretians are Bad and being a spoiled cunt who's never had to work hard for anything is also Bad (in a very visceral way, because it's what Damen is desperately trying to avoid being), the Veretian prince must be both, concludes Damen after a 0.5 second glance at Laurent's resting bitch face. "A prince doesn't need to be coddled, he needs to be seasoned," says Damen to Paschal about Laurent, even though he's only in the position to have this conversation in the first place because Laurent's entire family died by the time he was 13 and he is currently being hunted down like a dog by his only remaining relative.

I also think that this is the foundation on which Damen's attitudes about slavery are able to change and develop - if his idea of someone deserving something is based in whether he's earned it (as opposed to birthright), becoming a slave is an easy way to disprove his current worldview about how much "earning it" matters in a fundamentally unjust society: first of all, Damen can't earn anything if Laurent doesn't allow him the opportunity to. Once Laurent does allow it, no matter how competent Damen shows himself to be, no matter how much Laurent treats him as an equal, no matter how much Damen earns Laurent's respect, this is all still happening at Laurent's whim and Laurent can turn around and treat Damen like a servant again, praise his military prowess with one breath and threaten him with a whipping with the next, and there's very little Damen can do about it. Damen goes from a privileged man's idea of meritocracy (I worked hard for it so I deserve it) to a more 360 degree one (some people can never have what I have no matter how hard they work, because I am fundamentally privileged).

Finally, it's really obvious that Damen also loves working for it in his romantic relationships, which probably stems from the same roots as all of the above, but it's a particularly interesting framework for drawing parallels between Laurent and the rest of Damen's life. Not only is Laurent the undisputed champion of Being Hard to Get, Laurent also hates Damen because Damen unthinkingly took something precious away from him (just like someone else!), and Laurent is also very punishing towards Damen over it (just like someone else!). But this time, Damen is actually capable of earning Laurent's respect (because facts will always take precedence over pettiness for hyperrational Laurent), and then his love, because Laurent is willing to see Damen as a person with feelings- as a man who loves him and cares about pleasing him - and not just as his role in the tragedy of Laurent's life.

I just think it's interesting to think about, is all, because I feel like the knee-jerk instinct is to analyze Laurent's more overt fuckedupness while not thinking about how Damen needs to also be kinda fucked up to find the thornbush pleasing to the extent that he does.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[heartfullofleeches]

What if incel reader wants to turn a new leaf but V is making that extremely hard since he's fueling reader's gaming addiction and reader decides to leave him, albeit very reluctantly

(Angst time)

[Guys, I just got my first job! Didn't think anything would come in so soon since I just got my degree. Dont know when I'll have the time to log on, but I'll miss you. Take care.]

It happened again. This is exactly why you rarely played multiplayer anymore. Time and time again, people would detail their milestones in life, never to be seen again. New career. A baby. The list went on and on and on. It made you think about your life. Quitting your job and leeching off someone who gave you his all to play video games nearly twenty four hours a day. It's pathetic. You're pathetic- but you dont want things to stay this way.

You tried so hard to turn yourself around. Applying to jobs in the area, cutting back on your time online. The jobs never got back to you and V would remind you of a new dlc coming to a game you loved, pulling you right back in. V. You don't want to admit it. You wished for a reality where it wasn't true, but he was your biggest obstacle. His care, as well meaning as it was, was weighing you down and leaving you forever a shell of the person you were growing to be. If you wanted to get better, you'd have to let him go.

"H-hey, V. There's something I need to talk to you about. Before I start, I need to say that it isn't you. I love you, but I can't do this. Maybe, in a few years we can meet up and start over, but for now I-"

You choke. Tears flow in your reflection. You break down, crying over the bathroom sink for the millionth time. Even in practice, you can't stop yourself from falling apart. Your cries rebound against the walls, through the crack in the door where angry eyes watch as you wilt away on the bathroom floor. They're torn between comforting you, and breaking your computer to atoms. As much as it bound you to him, V always knew there was a possibility that it could tear you apart just as easily. He decides to take the third option, and quietly leaves the house.

-

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK."

V slams his fist into the steering wheel. He claws at his skin, picking at his filth ridden body and attempting to relieve his air flow as he hyperventilates. You can't leave him. You can't. He can't go back to watching you from afar, wondering how you feel beneath his touch. Having that beautiful grin directed at him. He felt horrible to see you in so much pain, but he refused to accept fault. To let you go. He just had to ease up, give you some of the freedom you so desperately craved.

-

You're sitting on the couch when he finally returns home. He uncharacteristically quiet. You rise, chewing on your lips.

"V, I-"

He hugs you. "It's okay."

Your eyes water. "No, it's not."

"I was here earlier..." He squeezes you tighter. "I heard everything you said."

By the way he shakes, you can tell he's crying too.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be... Let me help you."

"How can you possibly help?"

"My parents. They own a company. We can get you a job. Mail room, office work, it doesn't matter. We can switch off on the housework, go out more. Please...."

"I don't want to lose you, Y/n."

You crumble, sobbing like a baby as you cling onto him and use his shirt to catch your tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You've done so much for me and I was just going to leave."

V hushes you and rubs circles into your back. "It's okay, baby. You'll get better and everything will be okay. Okay?"

You sniffle as he wipes and kisses away your tears. "Okay..."

"Good. I'm gonna go take a quick smoke, but while I do, you go get dressed so we can actually go out tonight. Sound good?"

"Yeah.." You smile a bit. "It does."

"Good." V kisses your forehead and you part ways. Walking outside and leaning against the railing, he pulls put his phone and dials a number. What he didn't expect was an answer on the first ring."

"Hey, Mom?... Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Can you give my partner a job? Nothing too crazy, just something to keep them on their toes. Give them a couple promotions maybe, then fire them in a few months. The cameras in the main building are up to date, right?"

[fandomxpreferences]

Game On Chapter One: Beer Pong and Bad Reputations

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Frat! and Hockey! JJ x female!reader

TW:18+, sexual comments, alcohol consumption, I think thats it

Summary: You catch the attention of a certain blonde boy from back home when you attend a Frat party with your best friends.

Word Count:2.5k

A/N:this is kind of a half AU where they're still from OBX, but went to college instead of trying to die on a treasure hunt

"I don't know, Sarah. We have finals coming up and-"

You're cut off by Sarah and Kie scoffing in unison while making eye contact through the mirror. 

"Which is exactly why you need to fucking relax, Y/N! One night isn't going to kill you." Kie reasons, and you don't get a moment of reprieve before Sarah joins in. 

"Besides, there'll be plenty of hot guys just waiting to get you under them. Let loose." 

You scrunch up your nose at the insinuation, and Sarah tosses a dress at your head. 

"Here, put this on so we can go."

You sigh dejectedly, knowing that there's no use in arguing. They're going to make you go either way, so you might as well try to have fun. 

"Fine." You grumble, both girls cheering when you slip on the article of clothing. Your eyes widen when you see yourself in the mirror, turning to face your best friends. 

"I look.." You trail off trying to find the right word that won't offend Sarah seeing as the dress belongs to her, only to have your sentence finished for you. 

"Hot! You look hot, babe." Kie claps, and you give her a skeptical look. You can't deny that it flatters your figure, hugging your curves in all the right places and propping your boobs up in a way that's just above scandalous. 

"You always used to be the life of the party, Y/N/N. Let that crazy bitch back out for the night." Sarah encourages. 

You mull over the idea for a moment before smiling deviously, and the two girls give each other a knowing look. You suppose it won't hurt to let your hair down for once and forget about all the stresses college brings. 

Sarah forces you down in a chair while she starts on your makeup, and Kie styles your hair so that it looks carefree yet sleek at the same time. You flash a grin at your reflection before slipping on a pair of heels and starting toward the door. 

"Okay, girls. Let's show them how to party the Outer Banks way."

You aren't sure which Frat your friends are going to, but it doesn't matter. By the time you pull up, the party is in full swing with thumping bass and drinks flowing. You turn to Sarah when you see the banner housing the Greek letters and narrow your eyes. 

"Isn't this the frat with the guys from back home?" You ask and she shrugs casually. 

"I think so. Does it matter?" 

You purse your lips before grinning, and she matches your expression. 

"Not even a little bit."

The three of you make your way inside, instantly gravitating toward the drinks. You make yourself a cocktail in a red cup, waiting for the girls to finish before sauntering back out to the main area. 

There are people everywhere; some dancing, some making out in the corners, and some playing various drinking games like beer pong. You lock eyes with Sarah, and she nods in agreement. 

The three of you make your way towards the table, an innocent look in your eyes as you lock onto your prey. Three guys that have no idea what's about to hit them, too focused on the expanse of skin and body glitter standing before them in the form of sorority girls.

You know they recognize you to some degree; Sarah is the president of your sorority with you holding the title just beneath her, and Kie is always with you.

"Mind if we play?" You ask sweetly, and without hesitating they all agree with excitement. 

They refill the cups that have been emptied, one of them handing you the ping pong ball with an over-the-top grin. 

"Ladies first."

You thank him with a bat of your eyelashes, taking your shot and intentionally missing. You pout, feigning disappointment while Kie reassures you. The guy that handed you the ball laughs lightly and flashes you a smile. 

"Don't worry sweetheart, you'll get the hang of it." 

You shoot a sideways glance at the girls, hiding your smirk. He's fallen into your trap hook, line, and sinker. You look him over, noticing his messy black hair and tan skin. He's cute, but not cute enough for you to let him win. 

This goes on for the first couple of rounds, the three of you pretending to suck while downing the cups as they sink the balls. Once you're sure that you have them fooled, your face drops from sweet to dark and you shoot the guy a wink. 

He watches as you line up your shot, tossing the ball into the cup without touching the rim. You watch his smile disappear, his buddies observing with wide eyes as you continue to demolish them. 

Once you make the winning shot, Sarah and Kie cheer while pulling you into a hug. You celebrate for a moment before turning back to the men and walking forward. Your hand comes up to pat the side of the man's face mockingly, and you speak using the same condescending tone he had in the beginning. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll have better luck next time."

Sarah and Kie laugh while you all move away, going to refill your now empty cups. Little do you know, you garnered the attention of a certain blonde-haired boy that's following you with his eyes. 

You seem familiar to him, yet he can't quite place how he knows you. He figures he must have just seen you around campus before his eyes light up with realization. His hand swats at the man to his left as he nods toward you. 

"Hey, isn't she a pogue? We went to school with her right?" He asks, and John B frowns as he racks his brain. 

"Yeah, yeah she's that one girl that was always at every Kegger. Wasn't she deemed queen of keg stands or something?" He replies, and JJ nods eagerly. 

"Shit, yeah. Why weren't we friends with her again?" He frowns, and Pope pipes up from his other side. 

"She was always hanging around kooks."

JJ sucks his teeth, memories of you laughing at the country club coming back to him.

"Riiight, she was close with Sarah Cameron and her asshole brother. He was always lurking behind her like a fucking pitbull." He scoffs, and John B directs his friend's attention back to you as you emerge from the kitchen. 

"Looks like she still is." He grimaces, observing as you laugh loudly while standing between Sarah and Kie.

John B can practically hear the gears turning and narrowly misses JJ's arm when he pushes off the wall. 

"I'm gonna go talk to her."

Pope's eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he tries to stop his friend along with John B. 

"JJ, I don't think that a good- and he's gone."

John B shakes his head, eager to see how this blows up in JJ's face. 

"Well, this will be interesting."

You're in the middle of telling Sarah a story when you notice a figure stop in front of you. Your head turns to face him, eyebrows raising when you see his dimpled smile directed at you. 

"Hey, cupcake."

You cast a glance at Kie as she shrugs, and smile slowly. 

"Hi." You answer hesitantly, but this only seems to spur him on. 

"Oh come on, you don't remember me? Surely I made some kind of impression on you." He teases, and you pretend to be confused. Unbeknownst to him, you know exactly who he is. Which is why you want to fuck with him. 

JJ was always known as a player in high school, tales of his sexual escapades scarring you one too many times. He slept with any girl that would allow him to, and given his good looks there weren't many that turned him down. 

"I'm sorry. Am I supposed to know you?"

You watch in amusement as his confidence deflates before you let out a laugh. 

"I'm just fucking with you, Maybank. I remember you. How could I not? I saw your nudes sophomore year."

That cocky smirk is right back on his face like it never left as Sarah and Kie slowly back away. 

"Like what you saw?" He teases, and you take a sip of your drink while holding eye contact over the rim of the cup. 

"I've seen better." You shrug, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he nods. 

"Bet you've never had better, though." He quips, but it doesn't cause you to blush the way he was hoping. You seem immune to his charm, and it intrigues him as much as it pisses him off. 

"That's not a winning bet there, surfer boy." You bark, and his eyes twinkle at your ability to match his energy. 

"We'll just have to find out, won't we princess?"

Your eyebrows raise at his pickup line, and you shake your head with a chuckle. 

"You thought that was smooth didn't you, Barbie? In your dreams.

His nose crinkles at your dig, and you can't deny the butterflies in your stomach caused by the banter. 

"Oh most definitely. How about we make a deal?"

This catches your attention, and your eyes rake over him slowly before coming back to meet his ocean eyes. 

"What would that be, exactly?" You ask, and the look he gives you screams trouble. 

"We play a round of beer pong. Me and my guys against the three of you. Happy to see you still associate with kooks, by the way." 

He lets out a gag at the end of his sentence and you roll your eyes before quirking a brow. 

"What does the winner get?" You question, and he pretends to think for a second. 

"If we win, I get your number. If you win, you get my number and the ball is in your court."

You take another drink, pondering the offer in your mind. 

"What makes you think I want your number?" 

He takes a step forward, now close enough that you can smell his sweet and spicy cologne as he speaks low enough for only you to hear. 

"The way your thighs have been rubbing together ever since you mentioned seeing my cock."

Your eyes widen for a split second, and he smirks before taking a step back as if he didn't just call you out. 

"Fine. It's a deal."

You motion the girls over as JJ does the same, and they all follow you to the beer bong table. You're just intoxicated enough to go through with it, and Sarah sends you a curious glance. 

You wave her off, competitiveness taking over as JJ sinks his first shot. Unlike the other guys, the three men opposite you are an actual threat. This isn't a regular game; this is Pogue versus Pogue. 

Not only Pogues but the two reigning champions of the Cut. It's neck in neck, the two of you trying to distract each other as you make shot after shot. It's down to the last cup and you take a deep breath before tossing the ball. 

You throw your hands up in victory when come out the winner, and JJ closes his eyes while tossing his head back. You give him a shit-eating grin while handing him your phone, knowing you don't intend to ever touch the contact. 

What you don't expect is for him to text himself so he has your number too. 

"That wasn't the deal!" You exclaim, and he hands the device back to you with a playful smile. 

"Never said how I was gonna give it to you."

Your eyes narrow at the boy, doing your best to appear angry when you're actually fighting a grin. 

"You tricked me." You accuse, and he leans his hands against the table to get in your personal space.

"I wouldn't say tricked so much as outsmarted, Keg Queen."

The way his eyes rake over your figure makes your skin burn, something between fascination and lust swirling within them. He can't help but think God has a plan that's being executed right in front of him, and though he doesn't consider himself to be spiritual, he thinks you might just be a new religion that he'll fall to his knees and worship.

"Don't get used to it, pretty boy." 

His heart rate accelerates upon hearing the nickname, and he wonders if he'll make it out of this alive. Probably not, but what a ride it will be. 

"Clever as the devil and twice as pretty. I like that." He grins, popping a toothpick in his mouth and making a show out of twirling it with his tongue. 

Your eyes drop to his mouth in a fleeting glance, but he notices nonetheless. 

"You're dangerous, Maybank." You breathe, and he leans in even closer so that his lips are nearly brushing yours. 

"All the best things are." 

Your breath hitches and you take a step back, inhaling deeply to try and ground yourself. The other four glance around at each other, almost uncomfortable with the sexual tension floating in the air. 

JJ stands up straight, never breaking eye contact while taking a long swig from his cup. 

"I'm gonna text you the details for my next game, and I'll have my jersey waiting for you at the entrance." He finally says, taking off his backwards cap and placing it on your head.

He shoots you a wink before walking off and you call out to him.

"You forgot your hat!"

He turns to face you, still walking back ward and gives you a blinding smile.

"Keep it, cupcake. Looks better on you anyway."

The girls wait until Pope and John B follow him before Sarah slaps you on the arm. 

"What the fuck was that?" She asks with wild eyes, and you turn to face her with your mouth gaping open. You open and close it a few times, trying to find the words, before finally settling on shaking your head. 

"I have no idea, but I've got a feeling it's going to happen a lot."

Before either of them can reply, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out. 

Friday at 7. I'll have tickets set aside for you and the figure eight princesses. 

You can't help the smile that pulls at your lips and lock your phone, not giving him the satisfaction of a quick response. It doesn't make a difference; JJ watched you read the message from across the room while John B shook his head. 

"This is a bad idea, J." He sighs, but it does nothing except spur the blonde on. 

"You know my stance on bad ideas, JB."

His friend nods, well acquainted with his best friend's go-get-em outlook on life. They watch as the three of you walk out the front door, no doubt in for a long night of gossip and giggles. 

"What's your end game here, man?" Pope asks, and the grin that JJ gives him makes him nervous. 

"Having the two of you fight over who gets to be the best man at our wedding." He replies, and Pope's eyes flutter closed in annoyance. 

"Glad to see we're remaining realistic." 

JJ just laughs and slaps his shoulder before starting toward the kitchen. He stops and turns around just long enough to point at JB. 

"Bring your A-game on Friday. We're gonna have some new faces in the crowd."

John B presses his lips together with a nod, watching as his friend carries on his original path. What could possibly go wrong?

@genius2050@sweetestdesire

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 2

I’ll finish the rest at some point tomorrow but for now, here are the first two chapters of “please don’t be.” lmk what you think!

table of contents and i’ll be good to you

It’s Roy who reminds him, you’re a little fucking prick, every day of Jamie’s life with varying degrees of sincerity. Because he has to remind Jamie. 

Otherwise, he’ll disintegrate under the strain of being Richmond’s star striker. 

Otherwise, his head will get too fucking big and he’ll explode. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. He meets girls all the time, smiles and flirts, none of them quite stirring his chest the way Keeley did. 

She’s off limits anyway, only took Roy a month of therapy to win her back. Ted’s gone now, Roy’s head gaffer, and Jamie does the unthinkable. 

He falls for a girl in a chicken shop of all places. 

He shouldn’t have even fucking been there. Roy would have his head. But fuck Roy, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, so fuck. Roy. 

So there he is, just looking and smiling like a fucking idiot, except you’re making the same face so before he can talk himself out of it, he does the unthinkable. He makes a move. 

Jamie might be a little fucking prick, but he’s not a big fucking idiot. He knows people; more specifically, he knows good people. He’s not entirely sure what tips him off that very first night, but he’s certain. You’re going to matter. 

Maybe not to him forever, but to the world? Certainly. 

It’s terrifying. 

“Don’t fuck it up bruv,” says Isaac, his actual best friend. 

“Won’t,” Jamie responds as he stretches his hamstrings. 

Roy, the bastard, is within earshot and gives him a critical look. “He already fucking has,” Roy says, and he’s gone before Jamie can retort. What could he say, anyway? Roy’s right. 

It’s fun and it’s light but at the same time, Jamie Knows. Maybe that’s why he says stupid things. Things that are a line on anyone else, but they come out strangely sincere with you. He doesn’t have time for this, he really doesn’t, but he finds himself wanting to make time. 

All he wants to do is tell you he loves you and doesn’t deserve you, tell you to be with someone good like Sam, but the selfish part in him wants you, alone. He doesn’t want to share you, to give you up. 

“What are you doing, babe?” Keeley asks over the phone when the sheer normalcy of your conversation begins to overwhelm him. “I’ve looked into her, and she’s not someone you just mess about with. You can’t keep doing this.”

Jamie does what he can. He does. He tells you exactly how it’s going to go and watches the words shutter past your eyes and into your brain. He can tell you’re logging them carefully, weighing the pros and cons. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you nod, slowly, signifying you’ve accepted the terms and conditions. 

He should feel better about it. You know. You consented. And yet… there’s guilt. 

There’s an awful moment, when his mum’s in town and he’s bringing her to meet you, and he can see you in the owner’s box after the match. You’re far away, gazing at the pitch with rain pelting down. Your arm is outstretched in an attempt to catch a drop and your eyes are half-closed and he realizes he’s excited for Georgie to meet you. The air changes for a split second and he knows.

He’s not making it out of this unscathed. 

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It has to be him. 

It’s inevitable. 

So he pauses in the doorway and makes note of how the air smells and exactly how you look before ignoring his mum’s expression and pulling over to where you stand. 

“The fuck are you doing, Jamie?” Georgie asks later, but it’s with concern as opposed to chastisement. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know, but she makes me feel things I’ve never fuckin’ felt before, and I don’t know what to do with it, I’m going to fuck it up, it won’t end well, I’ve already fucked it up…”

Jamie does what he does best: takes. 

He takes and he takes, and he soothes his conscience by reminding you that you’re not together. Not really. 

He realizes what it means to love you when you calmly tell him you’re in the middle of a panic attack and something in him rages against the thing that’s causing you pain. He wouldn’t have known you were panicking, except maybe he would have, because you’re calm save the shaking of your hands. 

“Can you hold this?” you ask him, voice smooth as ever as you hand him your tea. “I’m going to drop it in a minute.”

Against his better judgement, he asks, “What’s wrong?” as soon as you’re both seated. 

“I get anxious when I don’t hear from you. It’s silly, but it happens,” you say so matter-of-factly.

Jamie says, “I won’t change for you,” matching your calm, smooth, peaceful voice. 

You reply, “I’m not asking you to. I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

It scares him. He knows you’re not lying about any of it. You’re panicking, losing your mind in the middle of this overly-posh place that he picked because he knew you’d love the tea. It’s early into this… situation? but he could’ve predicted exactly what you’d order. Could’ve bet money on the spot you’d choose to sit. 

But he’s scared. How can you compartmentalize so easily? He can’t change his lot in life, not now. Football is his first love. Is it his greatest love? He always thought so, but he can’t ask you to uproot yourself to try to mold your life into his. No, that won’t fucking work. 

He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re toying with him. Is he just a passing amusement?

But there’s something about the way you say those words. Three of them, so softly, refusing to let him say them back. 

I love you.

You’re brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

I love you.

You’re squeezing his hand tightly through a crowd of people.

I love you.

You’re shaking his shoulders in excitement after a hat-trick.

I love you.

He didn’t ask you to. 

So why does he feel guilty?

You just look at him with those soft, sad eyes, all watery from tears and the guilt constricts his heart. Or maybe it’s love, he’s not sure, but now isn’t the moment to find out. You haven’t said anything for sixty seconds, not since he said he was leaving for Manchester in a week. 

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” Jamie says accusingly, because you did know. He can’t stomach the fact that you’re crying over him.

You nod silently.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

It’s a real question. It’s a fucking dare, a wish, a hope that you’ll be the one to say you wanted to be with him forever, logistics be damned. 

You don’t bite. Instead, you say, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

Jamie wants to bite out, “No, you’re not allowed to be fucking sad,” except he knows he did this. It wasn't on purpose. He didn’t think. 

No, that’s a lie. He did think. 

There’s no point in telling you he’d stay with Richmond forever if it meant he could have you for eternity. If you’d only ask. Or maybe if he’d decide what love was and what mattered, instead of taking the easy way out and leveling responsibility on your shoulders.

It doesn’t feel easy, even when the remnants of AFC Richmond have all gone out drinking to celebrate their last bit of time together. 

None of them ask, but Jamie can feel the questions burning on the tips of their tongues. Seven months together… he wanted forever, but was too afraid to ask. 

Roy’s the only one who tosses back a beer and shakes his head. He mutters, “Fucking prick,” before swanning home to Keeley. 

He means it this time. 

Jamie knows not to text, not to call. “I’m not that kind of girl,” you tell him. “Once we’re done, we’re done.” 

He’s back in town and on your street, waffling between respecting your wishes and shouting to the world that he loves you.

In his experience, love is shit. It’s brutal and painful and fucks up everything good. But with you… it felt good. Healthy, even. 

And fuck if he isn’t going to be healthy. 

table of contents

[darlingkirstein]

eremika — smut headcannon #1

this is what my brain cooks up at 4:30 am!

cw: cockwarming, somnophilia. 1.1k words.

Mikasa cuddles up beside him in bed, dressed only in one of his big t-shirts and a skimpy pair of panties — just asking for it, and she knows it.

She nestles her ass against his cock and does the tiniest wiggle, enough to get him hard. Eren groans underneath his breath. What a tease.

“Baby.” He whines, slipping a hand underneath her shirt to grope her tits. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” In such an innocent voice, she’s almost convincing in her ignorance— almost.

But her hips don’t cease to push against his boxers, generating an unbearable degree of heat. She’s killing him — Eren’s fingers dig deeper into her sensitive flesh, his nails leaving marks.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He sucks in a quick burst of air and bites down on his lip to keep from becoming a moaning mess. Eren knows that’s exactly what she wants from this.

Mikasa looks back over her shoulder — a big, pretty smile on her face. She can she the frustration in Eren’s eyes, so desperate and big, like a scorned, sad little puppy.

“I’m just getting comfy, Eren. Don’t get fussy.”

That look from her only makes matters worse — she’s so fucking gorgeous when she’s being coy. Her pretty pouting is sending dirty, dirty images to his head — thoughts of those pouty lips wrapped around his aching cock.

His mouth finds her nape. Out of his control, Eren’s hips push forward to meet her ass. He needs something, even if Mikasa won’t give it.

“C’mon — I wanna fuck you, baby. Wanna fuck you so bad. So hard— it fuckin’ hurts.”

Mikasa refuses to relent. Instead, she yawns. Reaching back, her fingers find his hair and play with it while she giggles drowsily.

“Too sleepy, handsome boy. So tired.”

Eren works hard to stop himself from audibly groaning at a wholly-inappropriate volume. He doesn’t know how many more nights of jerking off with Mikasa fast asleep beside him he has left.

His hands wander to touch her ass, rubbing as he fixated on her panties — an annoying cockblock.

Now he’s the one pouting.

“You can go to sleep, babe. I’ll, uh— take care of myself. I’ll be quiet about it. I’m good at that.”

Mikasa yawns again — he’s so desperate it’s making her grin, even while exhausted. She adjusts her upper half back against the mattress, head sinking deep into her comfy pillow.

And even though he’s behaving like a brat, she wants to make him just a little bit happy. Mikasa gets a fanciful idea, and it leaves her amused.

“Nah, don’t bother. Wanna try something?”

Immediately, Eren perks up. Men are so easy.

“Yes, please. Anything. Anything with you.”

She hooks a finger around her panties and tugs them done, just enough for her pretty cunt to be exposed. Still grinning, Mikasa reaches for Eren — her fingertips brush against his cock through the fabric, and he has to stop himself from jerking.

“Go ahead and put it in, Eren. I’ll keep you warm, yeah? Make you feel good while you sleep.”

The words go straight to his dick. “Really?”

“Really. C’mon — so sleepy, baby. Put it in.”

Embarrassingly fast, Eren gets his cock out and pushes in so easily — and he just about cries from relief when her pussy envelopes him. His mood changes in an instant; no longer solely focused on the aching sensation in his hips, the pain controlling his frustratingly-male thought process, Eren’s affectionate side comes out.

He hugs her waist and tugs her closer.

“Thank you, Mika. Feels so good. Go— Go to sleep, okay? Goodnight. I love you so much.”

She laughs. The change is so entertaining.

“Goodnight, baby boy. I love you. Dream about me, will you? A nice, dirty dream.”

It’s a perfect plan. Mikasa falls asleep almost immediately, so tired from a long day of work. Eren shuts his eyes, keeping his hips incredibly, impossibly still. The comfort Mikasa’s cunt gives him is indescribable — the sheer warmth is enough to leave him rambling.

Or, it would be a perfect plan.

Except — Eren can’t fall asleep. She feels too good, too good to even consider sleeping.

He lays there, staring ahead at the wall — after Mikasa turned out the light, the room was plunged into darkness. Eren can’t see a thing, not even all the things he wishes he can see. He can’t see his cock sitting pretty inside her cunt — can’t see the way it disappears, her ass hiding it.

That pisses him off.

It’s not the perfect solution Mikasa imagined.

He feels like squirming. It’s too much.

Eren lasts about twenty dreadfully-long, insomnia-filled minutes before he can’t take it.

Kissing her shoulder, his hips shift. He fucks her slow, trying to keep from waking her, but just enough to grant some relief. That tender pace doesn’t last long — it’s not enough. Selfishly, Eren takes her with a greater urgency, listening to the mattress creaking underneath him.

Whether it’s the pace or his whiny moans, Mikasa doesn’t stay asleep long. Just before she stirs, she hums quietly into her pillow, and her body moves into his desperate thrusts.

She awakens smiling. “Fuck, baby.“

Eren flushes a deep, deep shade of red. Humiliated at his own perversion, he ceases his thrusts and stumbles through an apology.

“Mika! Shit, I— I’m sorry, I— I couldn’t—”

Mikasa shakes her head, giggling.

“Shhh. Why’d you stop?”

“Well, you— you were asleep.”

She looks back at him, and even in the darkness, Eren can make out the outline of her face, her eyes practically gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, please. I knew you couldn’t make it the whole night. Just needed a little nap first.”

He isn’t sure how to respond. The blush only grows, and, shamefully, his cock twitches inside her. Those giggles drive him absolutely mad.

“You— you knew?”

Mikasa hugs both arms around his neck, arching her spine to ensure she can reach back that far. She touches his hair, already getting a little sweaty from his urgency— his untamed lust.

“Of course. Now, are you gonna fuck me or not? Felt so fucking good just now. Fuck me like that again, okay? Harder, actually. Give me more.”

Her voice, still half-clinging to sleep, has a soft edge to it — Eren savors the sound, and relishes in the thought of how good her drowsy moans will sound, right in his ears, nowhere else to go.

Mikasa’s little trick has his ears tinted pink.

Renewed with confidence, Eren grips her leg and pushes it forward, opening her up. His fingers dig into her supple thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave little baby bruises in the morning.

He doesn’t cover his moans as he fucks her warm cunt — fucks it rough, just like he wants.

Just like Mikasa planned.

[billyjoecobra]

JOSEPH JOESTAR CHARACTER ANALYSIS (1)

I never see anyone talk or analyze Joseph very often in the fandom, which is tragic because i believe he's very complex!! So here's some thoughts to chew on, rattle around in your head a bit. It's all under the cut, and it is LONG AS HELL because i have a LOT to say on him!!! Warning though, it's not super properly punctuated as these are discord rambles of mine, but -- enjoy nonetheless!!

i think it's super interesting to note how every time someone puts joseph down, or does something shitty to him, he just doesn't care. not a single bit. he even says it's fine, maybe even deserved sometimes. he assumes people always thinks the worst of him, and yet doesn't really care aside from the one time he dressed in drag and got insulted about it. even then he was just kind of, "man. i looked hot though.." however every time someone even remotely upsets his friends or hurts those who don't deserve it or his family he goes. ABSOLUTELY APESHIT. he will get SO fighty.

he will immediately throw hands and hurt you physically without thinking about it he likes to put assholes in their place sometimes (i.e. the taxi driver, the nazis who insulted him. and any nazi really ) but that is different than really caring about what they say to him. i think he has a very strong moral code, though people tend to see him as quite dubious because of his loud and obnoxious behavior every consequence to his actions, he only worries what others close to him will think and he can easily be driven to a blind rage revenge if you dare to hurt his family in any way. because you DONT fuck with his family. family is the no. 1 thing he cares about

beating up racist cops? he only feels bad because he doesn't want to stress out erina with the thought of bailing him out. told speedwagon is dead? he's upset, but he keeps his cool and throws a punch at the guy for upsetting erina, and worries more about her comfort than his own. guys hijacking a plane and holding him hostage? he couldnt care less if he was the hostage, he only cared enough to stop it because it might risk getting speedwagon hurt. and it goes on

and for the sake of his family he keeps purposefully trying to risk himself to death repeatedly. when fighting kars lets not forget when he shot kars into space and his thoughts were about how he was ok with dying if it meant his family was safe i think . and i said this before this is just me getting my thoughts out way more eloquently with points i've already touched on before. but.

in a non emo way, it's really hit me how he isn't like. beat up about it. about assuming ppl always think the worst of him. he cares way more about others than himself type of guy thats like similar to "they're friendly but after awhile of their support and talking to them you realize to your horror you dont actually know anything about them at all" other than he's like. bold and brash and likes to start fights sometimes oh and lest we forget he also tends to take the death of loved ones so hard to the point that no matter the circumstances true causes he always blames himself.

he always blames himself and gets a bit. ummmmm i wouldn't say suicidal but like way too risky with his life and stops really caring if he'll die. he's just so used to nobody ever understanding him and his "off kilter" tbh neurodivergent way of thinking and living that he. like. he doesn't exactly have great self image beyond thinking he has sexy lips which sounds so silly but it's true and again it's not something he dwells on it's just kind of, A Fact to him. and this isn't even touching on the slew of issues i'm sure speedwagon's constant comparing of him to his dead grandfather must have caused.

It's very evident to me that he has ALWAYS felt like a burden to some degree i think. even when erina and speed havent really treated him as such. This is why I think his dynamic with speedwagon would be pretty strained / already seems as such -- bc. As I said before, he's ALWAYS comparing him to jonathan, even when he was just a kid.

NOW BY ALL MEANS!! I DO NOT THINK speedwagon means any ill will. it's just something that he just keeps.. doing because. well he respected jonathan so much, and it kind of clouds how he sees joseph because -- well, joseph is the SPITTING IMAGE of him. But not intending harm does not mean he hasn't caused any by doing that -- comparison can WRECK you pretty bad. joseph has made it clear that he knows he's nothing like jonathan in any regards except looks and i think it kind of contributes to his overall. tanked self image. and also the fact that he's a reminder of the tragedy of losing his parents ( or so they thought for a while. yk )

he deeply cares for him still, this much is true. he always will. but, it doesn't negate the serious comparison issue, constantly being told "WOW you have an attitude not at ALL like your grandpa, he would have never done x!! how do you look like him while being such an angry kid!!"

..... said without real malice or really bad intention, more out of exasperation. but. those kinds of things stick with kids. yknow? Joseph's always bottled up his emotions and tried to be on his best behavior for erina's sake. hes always a little more open with speedwagon. but .............. BWGHGURUGURGGH!!!!!!! i could go on for hours about it ok. but i shall move on to my next point now.

what sucks about it though is that the fandom tends to gloss over these bit of characterization at every turn. there is a lot of sadness and concerning things surrounding joseph that he just simply SHRUGS OFF about that it's kinda concerning! not that he'd ever really see a problem with it.

the fact that he was prepared to die / did the bet if only to distract them long enough to let caesar and speedwagon get away... you COULD maybe read it as a little bit of self preservation but given how he handles literally all other instances of him possibly dying., and the circumstances of him leading whammuu away being to SAVE those two. I think it yet again falls in line with "who gaf if i die i care if THEY die". then he gets stressed about the time he has left. which i imagine would stress ANYONE honestly. but . part of me thinks that it's also because this means that he has a short time to make sure he can be strong enough to protect everyone he loves and cares for..

that isn't ALL there is, of course. but i feel like with his behavior that is probably a big reason of it. You can summarize it all with one sentence; essentially,

joseph isn't afraid of death, nor dying himself; he's afraid of his loved ones dying.

This fact is extremely present in everything he does and says, but especially so when Caesar's death hits. THAT, however, i will make it's own post on. I have a lot to say on that and how it fucked him up for life. For now, though, I will move on and touch on another topic.

for all the loud opinions joseph seems to also speak none of it is ever really looked into much deeper as anything more than " he's just being joseph again" and he never really elaborates on it either, hence why a lot of people don't know much about him. While he is schrodinger's himbo -- too stupid to be smart, too smart to be stupid -- it's clearly all an act to get people to lower their expectations of him. He doesn't like being taken as a joke though. that he is a hater of for sure so. Joseph hides his true self behind a mask of idiocy and lackadaisical attitude to the point where it's blended into his actual truest self and he can hardly tell what's real and what's the mask. But at the same time, Joseph gets very angry when nobody takes him seriously because of his facade and trying to make everyone lower their expectations of him so he can pull the rug out from under them.

He's so mad when people don't take him serious but then continues to act pretty unserious and it's like. Well if you want them to take you more seriously bro you should stop doing that. Stop lowering others expectations so you can kick their asses or have a general upper hand just in case ( but he won't 💖)

he is a bit of a polarizing character but i hate when fandom reduces him to just "funny goofster" or ""cheater"", or writes him off as annoying with no depth to him. To judge Joseph through a lense of solely good or solely bad is a terrible idea; that man is gray moraled as HELL, he has a strong sense of self justice while also being incredibly underhanded and sneaky. If you dislike him, that's fine -- but don't discount his complexity just cause of that!!! He's not puddle deep, there's a lot of facets to how truly fucked up he is.

yeah. he is goofy, and he's a cheater at many things. but there's a lot to him. HE'S COMPLEX!!!!

[magnoliamyrrh]

.

[fipindustries]

Artificial Intelligence Risk

about a month ago i got into my mind the idea of trying the format of video essay, and the topic i came up with that i felt i could more or less handle was AI risk and my objections to yudkowsky. i wrote the script but then soon afterwards i ran out of motivation to do the video. still i didnt want the effort to go to waste so i decided to share the text, slightly edited here. this is a LONG fucking thing so put it aside on its own tab and come back to it when you are comfortable and ready to sink your teeth on quite a lot of reading

Anyway, let’s talk about AI risk

I’m going to be doing a very quick introduction to some of the latest conversations that have been going on in the field of artificial intelligence, what are artificial intelligences exactly, what is an AGI, what is an agent, the orthogonality thesis, the concept of instrumental convergence, alignment and how does Eliezer Yudkowsky figure in all of this.

 If you are already familiar with this you can skip to section two where I’m going to be talking about yudkowsky’s arguments for AI research presenting an existential risk to, not just humanity, or even the world, but to the entire universe and my own tepid rebuttal to his argument.

Now, I SHOULD clarify, I am not an expert on the field, my credentials are dubious at best, I am a college drop out from the career of computer science and I have a three year graduate degree in video game design and a three year graduate degree in electromechanical instalations. All that I know about the current state of AI research I have learned by reading articles, consulting a few friends who have studied about the topic more extensevily than me,

and watching educational you tube videos so. You know. Not an authority on the matter from any considerable point of view and my opinions should be regarded as such.

So without further ado, let’s get in on it.

PART ONE, A RUSHED INTRODUCTION ON THE SUBJECT

1.1 general intelligence and agency

lets begin with what counts as artificial intelligence, the technical definition for artificial intelligence is, eh…, well, why don’t I let a Masters degree in machine intelligence explain it:

 Now let’s get a bit more precise here and include the definition of AGI, Artificial General intelligence. It is understood that classic ai’s such as the ones we have in our videogames or in alpha GO or even our roombas, are narrow Ais, that is to say, they are capable of doing only one kind of thing. They do not understand the world beyond their field of expertise whether that be within a videogame level, within a GO board or within you filthy disgusting floor.

AGI on the other hand is much more, well, general, it can have a multimodal understanding of its surroundings, it can generalize, it can extrapolate, it can learn new things across multiple different fields, it can come up with solutions that account for multiple different factors, it can incorporate new ideas and concepts. Essentially, a human is an agi. So far that is the last frontier of AI research, and although we are not there quite yet, it does seem like we are doing some moderate strides in that direction. We’ve all seen the impressive conversational and coding skills that GPT-4 has and Google just released Gemini, a multimodal AI that can understand and generate text, sounds, images and video simultaneously. Now, of course it has its limits, it has no persistent memory, its contextual window while larger than previous models is still relatively small compared to a human (contextual window means essentially short term memory, how many things can it keep track of and act coherently about).

And yet there is one more factor I haven’t mentioned yet that would be needed to make something a “true” AGI. That is Agency. To have goals and autonomously come up with plans and carry those plans out in the world to achieve those goals. I as a person, have agency over my life, because I can choose at any given moment to do something without anyone explicitly telling me to do it, and I can decide how to do it. That is what computers, and machines to a larger extent, don’t have. Volition.

So, Now that we have established that, allow me to introduce yet one more definition here, one that you may disagree with but which I need to establish in order to have a common language with you such that I can communicate these ideas effectively. The definition of intelligence. It’s a thorny subject and people get very particular with that word because there are moral associations with it. To imply that someone or something has or hasn’t intelligence can be seen as implying that it deserves or doesn’t deserve admiration, validity, moral worth or even  personhood. I don’t care about any of that dumb shit. The way Im going to be using intelligence in this video is basically “how capable you are to do many different things successfully”. The more “intelligent” an AI is, the more capable of doing things that AI can be. After all, there is a reason why education is considered such a universally good thing in society. To educate a child is to uplift them, to expand their world, to increase their opportunities in life. And the same goes for AI. I need to emphasize that this is just the way I’m using the word within the context of this video, I don’t care if you are a psychologist or a neurosurgeon, or a pedagogue, I need a word to express this idea and that is the word im going to use, if you don’t like it or if you think this is innapropiate of me then by all means, keep on thinking that, go on and comment about it below the video, and then go on to suck my dick.

Anyway. Now, we have established what an AGI is, we have established what agency is, and we have established how having more intelligence increases your agency. But as the intelligence of a given agent increases we start to see certain trends, certain strategies start to arise again and again, and we call this Instrumental convergence.

1.2 instrumental convergence

The basic idea behind instrumental convergence is that if you are an intelligent agent that wants to achieve some goal, there are some common basic strategies that you are going to turn towards no matter what. It doesn’t matter if your goal is as complicated as building a nuclear bomb or as simple as making a cup of tea. These are things we can reliably predict any AGI worth its salt is going to try to do.

First of all is self-preservation. Its going to try to protect itself. When you want to do something, being dead is usually. Bad. its counterproductive. Is not generally recommended. Dying is widely considered unadvisable by 9 out of every ten experts in the field. If there is something that it wants getting done, it wont get done if it dies or is turned off, so its safe to predict that any AGI will try to do things in order not be turned off. How far it may go in order to do this? Well… [wouldn’t you like to know weather boy].

Another thing it will predictably converge towards is goal preservation. That is to say, it will resist any attempt to try and change it, to alter it, to modify its goals. Because, again, if you want to accomplish something, suddenly deciding that you want to do something else is uh, not going to accomplish the first thing, is it? Lets say that you want to take care of your child, that is your goal, that is the thing you want to accomplish, and I come to you and say, here, let me change you on the inside so that you don’t care about protecting your kid. Obviously you are not going to let me, because if you stopped caring about your kids, then your kids wouldn’t be cared for or protected. And you want to ensure that happens, so caring about something else instead is a huge no-no- which is why, if we make AGI and it has goals that we don’t like it will probably resist any attempt to “fix” it.

And finally another goal that it will most likely trend towards is self improvement. Which can be more generalized to “resource acquisition”. If it lacks capacities to carry out a plan, then step one of that plan will always be to increase capacities. If you want to get something really expensive, well first you need to get money. If you want to increase your chances of getting a high paying job then you need to get education, if you want to get a partner you need to increase how attractive you are. And as we established earlier, if intelligence is the thing that increases your agency, you want to become smarter in order to do more things. So one more time, is not a huge leap at all, it is not a stretch of the imagination, to say that any AGI will probably seek to increase its capabilities, whether by acquiring more computation, by improving itself, by taking control of resources.

All these three things I mentioned are sure bets, they are likely to happen and safe to assume. They are things we ought to keep in mind when creating AGI.

 Now of course, I have implied a sinister tone to all these things, I have made all this sound vaguely threatening, haven’t i?. There is one more assumption im sneaking into all of this which I haven’t talked about. All that I have mentioned presents a very callous view of AGI, I have made it apparent that all of these strategies it may follow will go in conflict with people, maybe even go as far as to harm humans. Am I impliying that AGI may tend to be… Evil???

1.3 The Orthogonality thesis

Well, not quite.

We humans care about things. Generally. And we generally tend to care about roughly the same things, simply by virtue of being humans. We have some innate preferences and some innate dislikes. We have a tendency to not like suffering (please keep in mind I said a tendency, im talking about a statistical trend, something that most humans present to some degree). Most of us, baring social conditioning, would take pause at the idea of torturing someone directly, on purpose, with our bare hands. (edit bear paws onto my hands as I say this).  Most would feel uncomfortable at the thought of doing it to multitudes of people. We tend to show a preference for food, water, air, shelter, comfort, entertainment and companionship. This is just how we are fundamentally wired. These things can be overcome, of course, but that is the thing, they have to be overcome in the first place.

An AGI is not going to have the same evolutionary predisposition to these things like we do because it is not made of the same things a human is made of and it was not raised the same way a human was raised.

There is something about a human brain, in a human body, flooded with human hormones that makes us feel and think and act in certain ways and care about certain things.

All an AGI is going to have is the goals it developed during its training, and will only care insofar as those goals are met. So say an AGI has the goal of going to the corner store to bring me a pack of cookies. In its way there it comes across an anthill in its path, it will probably step on the anthill because to take that step takes it closer to the corner store, and why wouldn’t it step on the anthill? Was it programmed with some specific innate preference not to step on ants? No? then it will step on the anthill and not pay any mind  to it.

Now lets say it comes across a cat. Same logic applies, if it wasn’t programmed with an inherent tendency to value animals, stepping on the cat wont slow it down at all.

Now let’s say it comes across a baby.

Of course, if its intelligent enough it will probably understand that if it steps on that baby people might notice and try to stop it, most likely even try to disable it or turn it off so it will not step on the baby, to save itself from all that trouble. But you have to understand that it wont stop because it will feel bad about harming a baby or because it understands that to harm a baby is wrong. And indeed if it was powerful enough such that no matter what people did they could not stop it and it would suffer no consequence for killing the baby, it would have probably killed the baby.

If I need to put it in gross, inaccurate terms for you to get it then let me put it this way. Its essentially a sociopath. It only cares about the wellbeing of others in as far as that benefits it self. Except human sociopaths do care nominally about having human comforts and companionship, albeit in a very instrumental way, which will involve some manner of stable society and civilization around them. Also they are only human, and are limited in the harm they can do by human limitations.  An AGI doesn’t need any of that and is not limited by any of that.

So ultimately, much like a car’s goal is to move forward and it is not built to care about wether a human is in front of it or not, an AGI will carry its own goals regardless of what it has to sacrifice in order to carry that goal effectively. And those goals don’t need to include human wellbeing.

Now With that said. How DO we make it so that AGI cares about human wellbeing, how do we make it so that it wants good things for us. How do we make it so that its goals align with that of humans?

1.4 Alignment.

Alignment… is hard [cue hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy scene about the space being big]

This is the part im going to skip over the fastest because frankly it’s a deep field of study, there are many current strategies for aligning AGI, from mesa optimizers, to reinforced learning with human feedback, to adversarial asynchronous AI assisted reward training to uh, sitting on our asses and doing nothing. Suffice to say, none of these methods are perfect or foolproof.

One thing many people like to gesture at when they have not learned or studied anything about the subject is the three laws of robotics by isaac Asimov, a robot should not harm a human or allow by inaction to let a human come to harm, a robot should do what a human orders unless it contradicts the first law and a robot should preserve itself unless that goes against the previous two laws. Now the thing Asimov was prescient about was that these laws were not just “programmed” into the robots. These laws were not coded into their software, they were hardwired, they were part of the robot’s electronic architecture such that a robot could not ever be without those three laws much like a car couldn’t run without wheels.

In this Asimov realized how important these three laws were, that they had to be intrinsic to the robot’s very being, they couldn’t be hacked or uninstalled or erased. A robot simply could not be without these rules. Ideally that is what alignment should be. When we create an AGI, it should be made such that human values are its fundamental goal, that is the thing they should seek to maximize, instead of instrumental values, that is to say something they value simply because it allows it to achieve something else.

But how do we even begin to do that? How do we codify “human values” into a robot? How do we define “harm” for example? How do we even define “human”??? how do we define “happiness”? how do we explain a robot what is right and what is wrong when half the time we ourselves cannot even begin to agree on that? these are not just technical questions that robotic experts have to find the way to codify into ones and zeroes, these are profound philosophical questions to which we still don’t have satisfying answers to.

Well, the best sort of hack solution we’ve come up with so far is not to create bespoke fundamental axiomatic rules that the robot has to follow, but rather train it to imitate humans by showing it a billion billion examples of human behavior. But of course there is a problem with that approach. And no, is not just that humans are flawed and have a tendency to cause harm and therefore to ask a robot to imitate a human means creating something that can do all the bad things a human does, although that IS a problem too. The real problem is that we are training it to *imitate* a human, not  to *be* a human.

To reiterate what I said during the orthogonality thesis, is not good enough that I, for example, buy roses and give massages to act nice to my girlfriend because it allows me to have sex with her, I am not merely imitating or performing the rol of a loving partner because her happiness is an instrumental value to my fundamental value of getting sex. I should want to be nice to my girlfriend because it makes her happy and that is the thing I care about. Her happiness is  my fundamental value. Likewise, to an AGI, human fulfilment should be its fundamental value, not something that it learns to do because it allows it to achieve a certain reward that we give during training. Because if it only really cares deep down about the reward, rather than about what the reward is meant to incentivize, then that reward can very easily be divorced from human happiness.

Its goodharts law, when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure. Why do students cheat during tests? Because their education is measured by grades, so the grades become the target and so students will seek to get high grades regardless of whether they learned or not. When trained on their subject and measured by grades, what they learn is not the school subject, they learn to get high grades, they learn to cheat.

This is also something known in psychology, punishment tends to be a poor mechanism of enforcing behavior because all it teaches people is how to avoid the punishment, it teaches people not to get caught. Which is why punitive justice doesn’t work all that well in stopping recividism and this is why the carceral system is rotten to core and why jail should be fucking abolish-[interrupt the transmission]

Now, how is this all relevant to current AI research? Well, the thing is, we ended up going about the worst possible way to create alignable AI.

1.5 LLMs (large language models)

This is getting way too fucking long So, hurrying up, lets do a quick review of how do Large language models work. We create a neural network which is a collection of giant matrixes, essentially a bunch of numbers that we add and multiply together over and over again, and then we tune those numbers by throwing absurdly big amounts of training data such that it starts forming internal mathematical models based on that data and it starts creating coherent patterns that it can recognize and replicate AND extrapolate! if we do this enough times with matrixes that are big enough and then when we start prodding it for human behavior it will be able to follow the pattern of human behavior that we prime it with and give us coherent responses.

(takes a big breath)this “thing” has learned. To imitate. Human. Behavior.

Problem is, we don’t know what “this thing” actually is, we just know that *it* can imitate humans.

You caught that?

What you have to understand is, we don’t actually know what internal models it creates, we don’t know what are the patterns that it extracted or internalized from the data that we fed it, we don’t know what are the internal rules that decide its behavior, we don’t know what is going on inside there, current LLMs are a black box. We don’t know what it learned, we don’t know what its fundamental values are, we don’t know how it thinks or what it truly wants. all we know is that it can imitate humans when we ask it to do so. We created some inhuman entity that is moderatly intelligent in specific contexts (that is to say, very capable) and we trained it to imitate humans. That sounds a bit unnerving doesn’t it?

 To be clear, LLMs are not carefully crafted piece by piece. This does not work like traditional software where a programmer will sit down and build the thing line by line, all its behaviors specified. Is more accurate to say that LLMs, are grown, almost organically. We know the process that generates them, but we don’t know exactly what it generates or how what it generates works internally, it is a mistery. And these things are so big and so complicated internally that to try and go inside and decipher what they are doing is almost intractable.

But, on the bright side, we are trying to tract it. There is a big subfield of AI research called interpretability, which is actually doing the hard work of going inside and figuring out how the sausage gets made, and they have been doing some moderate progress as of lately. Which is encouraging. But still, understanding the enemy is only step one, step two is coming up with an actually effective and reliable way of turning that potential enemy into a friend.

Puff! Ok so, now that this is all out of the way I can go onto the last subject before I move on to part two of this video, the character of the hour, the man the myth the legend. The modern day Casandra. Mr chicken little himself! Sci fi author extraordinaire! The mad man! The futurist! The leader of the rationalist movement!

1.5 Yudkowsky

Eliezer S. Yudkowsky  born September 11, 1979, wait, what the fuck, September eleven? (looks at camera) yudkowsky was born on 9/11, I literally just learned this for the first time! What the fuck, oh that sucks, oh no, oh no, my condolences, that’s terrible…. Moving on. he is an American artificial intelligence researcher and writer on decision theory and ethics, best known for popularizing ideas related to friendly artificial intelligence, including the idea that there might not be a "fire alarm" for AI He is the founder of and a research fellow at the Machine Intelligence Research Institute (MIRI), a private research nonprofit based in Berkeley, California. Or so says his Wikipedia page.

Yudkowsky is, shall we say, a character. a very eccentric man, he is an AI doomer. Convinced that AGI, once finally created, will most likely kill all humans, extract all valuable resources from the planet, disassemble the solar system, create a dyson sphere around the sun and expand across the universe turning all of the cosmos into paperclips. Wait, no, that is not quite it, to properly quote,( grabs a piece of paper and very pointedly reads from it) turn the cosmos into tiny squiggly  molecules resembling paperclips whose configuration just so happens to fulfill the strange, alien unfathomable terminal goal they ended up developing in training. So you know, something totally different.

And he is utterly convinced of this idea, has been for over a decade now, not only that but, while he cannot pinpoint a precise date, he is confident that, more likely than not it will happen within this century. In fact most betting markets seem to believe that we will get AGI somewhere in the mid 30’s.

His argument is basically that in the field of AI research, the development of capabilities is going much faster than the development of alignment, so that AIs will become disproportionately powerful before we ever figure out how to control them. And once we create unaligned AGI we will have created an agent who doesn’t care about humans but will care about something else entirely irrelevant to us and it will seek to maximize that goal, and because it will be vastly more intelligent than humans therefore we wont be able to stop it. In fact not only we wont be able to stop it, there wont be a fight at all. It will carry out its plans for world domination in secret without us even detecting it and it will execute it before any of us even realize what happened. Because that is what a smart person trying to take over the world would do.

This is why the definition I gave of intelligence at the beginning is so important, it all hinges on that, intelligence as the measure of how capable you are to come up with solutions to problems, problems such as “how to kill all humans without being detected or stopped”. And you may say well now, intelligence is fine and all but there are limits to what you can accomplish with raw intelligence, even if you are supposedly smarter than a human surely you wouldn’t be capable of just taking over the world uninmpeeded, intelligence is not this end all be all superpower. Yudkowsky would respond that you are not recognizing or respecting the power that intelligence has. After all it was intelligence what designed the atom bomb, it was intelligence what created a cure for polio and it was intelligence what made it so that there is a human foot print on the moon.

Some may call this view of intelligence a bit reductive. After all surely it wasn’t *just* intelligence what did all that but also hard physical labor and the collaboration of hundreds of thousands of people. But, he would argue, intelligence was the underlying motor that moved all that. That to come up with the plan and to convince people to follow it and to delegate the tasks to the appropriate subagents, it was all directed by thought, by ideas, by intelligence. By the way, so far I am not agreeing or disagreeing with any of this, I am merely explaining his ideas.

But remember, it doesn’t stop there, like I said during his intro, he believes there will be “no fire alarm”. In fact for all we know, maybe AGI has already been created and its merely bidding its time and plotting in the background, trying to get more compute, trying to get smarter. (to be fair, he doesn’t think this is right now, but with the next iteration of gpt? Gpt 5 or 6? Well who knows). He thinks that the entire world should halt AI research and punish with multilateral international treaties any group or nation that doesn’t stop. going as far as putting military attacks on GPU farms as sanctions of those treaties.

What’s more, he believes that, in fact, the fight is already lost. AI is already progressing too fast and there is nothing to stop it, we are not showing any signs of making headway with alignment and no one is incentivized to slow down. Recently he wrote an article called “dying with dignity” where he essentially says all this, AGI will destroy us, there is no point in planning for the future or having children and that we should act as if we are already dead. This doesn’t mean to stop fighting or to stop trying to find ways to align AGI, impossible as it may seem, but to merely have the basic dignity of acknowledging that we are probably not going to win. In every interview ive seen with the guy he sounds fairly defeatist and honestly kind of depressed. He truly seems to think its hopeless, if not because the AGI is clearly unbeatable and superior to humans, then because humans are clearly so stupid that we keep developing AI completely unregulated while making the tools to develop AI widely available and public for anyone to grab and do as they please with, as well as connecting every AI to the internet and to all mobile devices giving it instant access to humanity. and  worst of all: we keep teaching it how to code. From his perspective it really seems like people are in a rush to create the most unsecured, wildly available, unrestricted, capable, hyperconnected AGI possible.

We are not just going to summon the antichrist, we are going to receive them with a red carpet and immediately hand it the keys to the kingdom before it even manages to fully get out of its fiery pit.

So. The situation seems dire, at least to this guy. Now, to be clear, only he and a handful of other AI researchers are on that specific level of alarm. The opinions vary across the field and from what I understand this level of hopelessness and defeatism is the minority opinion.

I WILL say, however what is NOT the minority opinion is that AGI IS actually dangerous, maybe not quite on the level of immediate, inevitable and total human extinction but certainly a genuine threat that has to be taken seriously. AGI being something dangerous if unaligned is not a fringe position and I would not consider it something to be dismissed as an idea that experts don’t take seriously.

Aaand here is where I step up and clarify that this is my position as well. I am also, very much, a believer that AGI would posit a colossal danger to humanity. That yes, an unaligned AGI would represent an agent smarter than a human, capable of causing vast harm to humanity and with no human qualms or limitations to do so. I believe this is not just possible but probable and likely to happen within our lifetimes.

So there. I made my position clear.

BUT!

With all that said. I do have one key disagreement with yudkowsky. And partially the reason why I made this video was so that I could present this counterargument and maybe he, or someone that thinks like him, will see it and either change their mind or present a counter-counterargument that changes MY mind (although I really hope they don’t, that would be really depressing.)

Finally, we can move on to part 2

PART TWO- MY COUNTERARGUMENT TO YUDKOWSKY

I really have my work cut out for me, don’t i? as I said I am not expert and this dude has probably spent far more time than me thinking about this. But I have seen most interviews that guy has been doing for a year, I have seen most of his debates and I have followed him on twitter for years now. (also, to be clear, I AM a fan of the guy, I have read hpmor, three worlds collide, the dark lords answer, a girl intercorrupted, the sequences, and I TRIED to read planecrash, that last one didn’t work out so well for me). My point is in all the material I have seen of Eliezer I don’t recall anyone ever giving him quite this specific argument I’m about to give.

It’s a limited argument. as I have already stated I largely agree with most of what he says, I DO believe that unaligned AGI is possible, I DO believe it would be really dangerous if it were to exist and I do believe alignment is really hard. My key disagreement is specifically about his point I descrived earlier, about the lack of a fire alarm, and perhaps, more to the point, to humanity’s lack of response to such an alarm if it were to come to pass.

All we would need, is a Chernobyl incident, what is that? A situation where this technology goes out of control and causes a lot of damage, of potentially catastrophic consequences, but not so bad that it cannot be contained in time by enough effort. We need a weaker form of AGI to try to harm us, maybe even present a believable threat of taking over the world, but not so smart that humans cant do anything about it. We need essentially an AI vaccine, so that we can finally start developing proper AI antibodies. “aintibodies”

In the past humanity was dazzled by the limitless potential of nuclear power, to the point that old chemistry sets, the kind that were sold to children, would come with uranium for them to play with. We were building atom bombs, nuclear stations, the future was very much based on the power of the atom. But after a couple of really close calls and big enough scares we became, as a species, terrified of nuclear power. Some may argue to the point of overcorrection. We became scared enough that even megalomaniacal hawkish leaders were able to take pause and reconsider using it as a weapon, we became so scared that we overregulated the technology to the point of it almost becoming economically inviable to apply, we started disassembling nuclear stations across the world and to slowly reduce our nuclear arsenal.

This is all a proof of concept that, no matter how alluring a technology may be, if we are scared enough of it we can coordinate as a species and roll it back, to do our best to put the genie back in the bottle. One of the things eliezer says over and over again is that what makes AGI different from other technologies is that if we get it wrong on the first try we don’t get a second chance. Here is where I think he is wrong: I think if we get AGI wrong on the first try, it is more likely than not that nothing world ending will happen. Perhaps it will be something scary, perhaps something really scary, but unlikely that it will be on the level of all humans dropping dead simultaneously due to diamonoid bacteria. And THAT will be our Chernobyl, that will be the fire alarm, that will be the red flag that the disaster monkeys, as he call us, wont be able to ignore.

Now WHY do I think this? Based on what am I saying this? I will not be as hyperbolic as other yudkowsky detractors and say that he claims AGI will be basically a god. The AGI yudkowsky proposes is not a god. Just a really advanced alien, maybe even a wizard, but certainly not a god.

Still, even if not quite on the level of godhood, this dangerous superintelligent AGI yudkowsky proposes would be impressive. It would be the most advanced and powerful entity on planet earth. It would be humanity’s greatest achievement.

It would also be, I imagine, really hard to create. Even leaving aside the alignment bussines, to create a powerful superintelligent AGI without flaws, without bugs, without glitches, It would have to be an incredibly complex, specific, particular and hard to get right feat of software engineering. We are not just talking about an AGI smarter than a human, that’s easy stuff, humans are not that smart and arguably current AI is already smarter than a human, at least within their context window and until they start hallucinating. But what we are talking about here is an AGI capable of outsmarting reality.

We are talking about an AGI smart enough to carry out complex, multistep plans, in which they are not going to be in control of every factor and variable, specially at the beginning. We are talking about AGI that will have to function in the outside world, crashing with outside logistics and sheer dumb chance. We are talking about plans for world domination with no unforeseen factors, no unexpected delays or mistakes, every single possible setback and hidden variable accounted for. Im not saying that an AGI capable of doing this wont be possible maybe some day, im saying that to create an AGI that is capable of doing this, on the first try, without a hitch, is probably really really really hard for humans to do. Im saying there are probably not a lot of worlds where humans fiddling with giant inscrutable matrixes stumble upon the right precise set of layers and weight and biases that give rise to the Doctor from doctor who, and there are probably a whole truckload of worlds where humans end up with a lot of incoherent nonsense and rubbish.

Im saying that AGI, when it fails, when humans screw it up, doesn’t suddenly become more powerful than we ever expected, its more likely that it just fails and collapses. To turn one of Eliezer’s examples against him, when you screw up a rocket, it doesn’t accidentally punch a worm hole in the fabric of time and space, it just explodes before reaching the stratosphere. When you screw up a nuclear bomb, you don’t get to blow up the solar system, you just get a less powerful bomb.

He presents a fully aligned AGI as this big challenge that humanity has to get right on the first try, but that seems to imply that building an unaligned AGI is just a simple matter, almost taken for granted. It may be comparatively easier than an aligned AGI, but my point is that already unaligned AGI is stupidly hard to do and that if you fail in building unaligned AGI, then you don’t get an unaligned AGI, you just get another stupid model that screws up and stumbles on itself the second it encounters something unexpected. And that is a good thing I’d say! That means that there is SOME safety margin, some space to screw up before we need to really start worrying. And further more, what I am saying is that our first earnest attempt at an unaligned AGI will probably not be that smart or impressive because we as humans would have probably screwed something up, we would have probably unintentionally programmed it with some stupid glitch or bug or flaw and wont be a threat to all of humanity.

Now here comes the hypothetical back and forth, because im not stupid and I can try to anticipate what Yudkowsky might argue back and try to answer that before he says it (although I believe the guy is probably smarter than me and if I follow his logic, I probably cant actually anticipate what he would argue to prove me wrong, much like I cant predict what moves Magnus Carlsen would make in a game of chess against me, I SHOULD predict that him proving me wrong is the likeliest option, even if I cant picture how he will do it, but you see, I believe in a little thing called debating with dignity, wink)

What I anticipate he would argue is that AGI, no matter how flawed and shoddy our first attempt at making it were, would understand that is not smart enough yet and try to become smarter, so it would lie and pretend to be an aligned AGI so that it can trick us into giving it access to more compute or just so that it can bid its time and create an AGI smarter than itself. So even if we don’t create a perfect unaligned AGI, this imperfect AGI would try to create it and succeed, and then THAT new AGI would be the world ender to worry about.

So two things to that, first, this is filled with a lot of assumptions which I don’t know the likelihood of. The idea that this first flawed AGI would be smart enough to understand its limitations, smart enough to convincingly lie about it and smart enough to create an AGI that is better than itself. My priors about all these things are dubious at best. Second, It feels like kicking the can down the road. I don’t think creating an AGI capable of all of this is trivial to make on a first attempt. I think its more likely that we will create an unaligned AGI that is flawed, that is kind of dumb, that is unreliable, even to itself and its own twisted, orthogonal goals.

And I think this flawed creature MIGHT attempt something, maybe something genuenly threatning, but it wont be smart enough to pull it off effortlessly and flawlessly, because us humans are not smart enough to create something that can do that on the first try. And THAT first flawed attempt, that warning shot, THAT will be our fire alarm, that will be our Chernobyl. And THAT will be the thing that opens the door to us disaster monkeys finally getting our shit together.

But hey, maybe yudkowsky wouldn’t argue that, maybe he would come with some better, more insightful response I cant anticipate. If so, im waiting eagerly (although not TOO eagerly) for it.

Part 3 CONCLUSSION

So.

After all that, what is there left to say? Well, if everything that I said checks out then there is hope to be had. My two objectives here were first to provide people who are not familiar with the subject with a starting point as well as with the basic arguments supporting the concept of AI risk, why its something to be taken seriously and not just high faluting wackos who read one too many sci fi stories. This was not meant to be thorough or deep, just a quick catch up with the bear minimum so that, if you are curious and want to go deeper into the subject, you know where to start. I personally recommend watching rob miles’ AI risk series on youtube as well as reading the series of books written by yudkowsky known as the sequences, which can be found on the website lesswrong. If you want other refutations of yudkowsky’s argument you can search for paul christiano or robin hanson, both very smart people who had very smart debates on the subject against eliezer.

The second purpose here was to provide an argument against Yudkowskys brand of doomerism both so that it can be accepted if proven right or properly refuted if proven wrong. Again, I really hope that its not proven wrong. It would really really suck if I end up being wrong about this. But, as a very smart person said once, what is true is already true, and knowing it doesn’t make it any worse. If the sky is blue I want to believe that the sky is blue, and if the sky is not blue then I don’t want to believe the sky is blue.

This has been a presentation by FIP industries, thanks for watching.

[actual-changeling]

Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

-

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

-

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

[deadliestfishinthesea]

Love always comes back (like a boomerang) Pt. 2

How you meet Captain boomerang while working undercover for A.R.G.U.S. (and eventually fall for him)

Part 2.

the real story begins after this one (and the romance too)

1.400 words

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54019207/chapters/136825786#workskin

“King Shark showed promising signs of composure since he got admitted here. It's his first time outside.“ officer Cash walked up to her, staring out the window with a frown, „He shouldn't cause any problems.“

___________________________________________

The weather didn't change. Y/n squinted to see if it was raining or if she was just imagining it. It was hard to be sure when glass separated her from the outside. She took a sip of her coffee, but winced and put it down on the windowsill. Still too hot.

“Oh, please. Look at him.“ Y/n gestured with her hand, “If I didn't know any better I would think it's his first day of school.“

The shark was out in the yard, sat on a bench that was much too small for him and glancing at anyone who passed by him. He almost looked lost.

“When are you going to talk to him?“

“Tomorrow.“

“You think he's got potential?“

"It doesn't matter what I think. That's up to Waller.“ Cash hummed and nodded, but Y/n continued, „But yeah. He does.“

“Hmph, what about the Aussie?“

“What about him?“

“Waller already approved him, no? Oh, and didn't he save you in the yard the other day or something?“

“You could say. A fight broke out, I was in the middle of it, he took the fight away from my direction.“

Y/n still remembers it clear as day. They replaced the broken table by now but when she looks out at the yard she can still imagine Harkness slouched over the other prisoner, blood dripping from his nose and his knuckles. She doesn't exactly know how to feel about the whole situation, but maybe that's because she doesn’t let herself think about it too much. Every time she remembers herself in the medical facility at the foot of Boomerang's bed, she tries her best to think about something else.

He huffed out a laugh, “I'm just glad that other guy's in lockdown now. What was it, Rambo?“

“Rango.“

“Rango, right. And the others?“

“Well, there's the doctor gone rogue and the man who never misses. You tell me.“

Y/n read all of their files. Harley Quinn, Dead Shot, Captain Boomerang and King Shark. All deadly, all wanting to get out. She never saw Harley Quinn in person, only photographs, and she would lie if she said she wasn't curious to meet her. Out of all the convicts she was assigned to evaluate, she was most excited to meet another woman with a degree in psychology, even if this one was apparently insane. She saw Deadshot once, but remembered how he looked. And she was almost in awe when hearing stories about his shooting skills, because as hard as they were to believe, they were all true. King Shark is unlike anything she's seen before. She felt like she was reading a fantasy novel when researching about him and his origins, and it baffled her to see such a seemingly powerful creature sit all shy on a yard bench. And then there's Captain Boomerang. His records were insane. She was in a briefing about a month ago and she remembered Colonel Flag say over a call that it would take at least two reams of paper to print out his full rap sheet. And it wasn't exactly a lie. She nearly had a stroke when researching about his past. Among other crimes, the man had nearly a hundred counts of burglary to his name. Who robs a hundred fucking banks? He does, apparently.

Cash went to say something but both his and Y/n's comms lit up and a male voice spoke trough the radio.

“This is watcher-09. Report to the north wing, Mockingbird wants to see you.“

Suddenly her coffee was long forgotten. They both looked at each other in silence until Y/n spoke up.

“What's Waller doing here?“

.

The trip to the north wing was short. Cash pushed open a big door and walked into a large room filled with rows and rows of computers, with an enormous monitor covering the whole front wall. It was uncanny to see the room completely empty. Y/n followed him in and stopped next to the giant monitor, and in front of them stood Amanda Waller, holding a manila file in her hand. She dropped the file on a desk.

“Doctor, I'm afraid your time in Arkham is over, you're being relocated to Metropolis under Colonel Flag's command. Cash, I need all my convicts ready.“

“What happened?“ Cash inquired.

“Metropolis has been invaded. We are sending Task Force X on the field and there's no time for evaluation, either they're ready or they're not.“ she slid the file across the table to Cash.

“They are, ma'am .“ Y/n said and Waller looked at her.

“Did you talk to all of them?“

“No. Only Captain Boomerang. But I've done my research.“

Waller nodded, “You've given me no reason to doubt you so far, doctor.“

“Thank you, ma'am. When am I leaving?“

“Right now.“

___

Wind gushed around and picked up small debris as the helicopter lowered to the ground. The door opened and Y/n stepped out, clutching her rifle. A tall man with a mellow expression on his face walked up to her, shouting so he's heard over the loud whirring of the helicopter.

“Y/n?“, he outstretched his hand, „I'm Colonel Rick Flag. They call you doc', right?“

She grabbed his hand and shook it, „That's me. What's the situation?“

“We're continuing travel on wheels. Anything that flies around here is an easy target.“

As they walked to a group of trucks the helicopter started leaving. They stood in the outskirts of Metropolis, surrounded by burnt down trees and collapsed buildings. She could see the outline of the city in the distance, and the giant alien ship hovering over the sky, its mechanical tentacles weaving through skyscrapers, and it seemed as though it engulfed the entire city. Her blood ran colder by the second, and she held her weapon tightly as she watched everything. Flag spoke again, not yelling this time.

“What's the situation in Arkham?“

“Waller's getting her Task Force ready.“

He was quiet for a second until they reached a truck. He turned to her, “So the circus is actually joining the defense?“

She nodded.

“And you're the one who picked them out?“ He looked at her pensively.

“Waller picked the members. I was just there to… provide extra precaution.“

“Make sure they're insane enough to do this, huh?“

“Aren't we all, Colonel?“ She smiled bitterly.

“Damn right. But that there's another type of crazy. Gotta make sure to keep 'em in line.“

“And how does Waller plan to do that?“

He was quiet for a second, searching for his words.

“You ever heard of a bomb injector?“

.

She sat in the back of the truck, relaxing into her seat as much as she could. So, it was finally happening, she thought. She wondered if the criminals would come out of this with their heads intact. Literally. In all honesty, she hoped they would. Even though she didn't have a direct say in it, Y/n was still involved in choosing the prisoners for the Task Force and sending them to their potential deaths.

A memory slipped into her head, then. Her in the medical facility, standing at the foot of Digger's bed, after he just saved her. Willingly. She thought about that often. He didn't have to step in, didn't have to earn bruises and stitches and isolation time just so she wouldn't be hit. But he did it anyway, and he didn't expect anything in return, either. That made her wonder. If he could do something selfless like that, could they all? Was there any good left in them? In him? But it didn't matter now. There's a chance she won't ever see him again, whether that be because of his death, or maybe even hers.

And she wasn't sure it if was from lack of sleep, or hundreds of destroyed homes, or maybe even because of the weather, but now she sat in the back of a truck leading to a dangerous combat zone, and she just regrets not thanking him properly.  

[gabessquishytum]

So we’ve seen a lot of Mafia AU stuff, but may I add my Mob Collections Department Hob to the mix?

Morpheus’ heart flutters a little in his chest when he opens the door one day to a stranger, a gentle professor-looking guy with a messenger bag slung across his chest. But then the man slips his hand into the bag and pulls out a crowbar. His deep chocolate eyes go hard as he steps over the threshold, and Morpheus instinctively retreats.

He knows exactly who this must be. This is the guy who breaks your fucking kneecaps or legs or fingers or whatever when you can’t pay back what you’ve borrowed.

Morpheus knew he shouldn’t’ve gone to a Mob loan shark to pay for Art School, but his family wouldn’t help him get a “useless” degree, wouldn’t cosign the loans, and he won’t be 24 till the end of this year, so he can’t even be considered independent! What the fuck else was he supposed to do?!

The stupid thing is, his heart is still fluttering.

Actually, it’s fluttering harder. There's a distinct possibility that Morpheus’ circulatory system is deeply confused and currently mistaking terror for arousal.

“I… I’m an artist,” Morpheus stammers. Maybe he can live without functional kneecaps, but if this guy smashes his fingers, he’ll be destroyed.

Hob nods, casually resting the crowbar against the back of his own neck as he looks around. He’s in no rush. His target is a skinny pale thing that Hob is pretty sure he could break across his knee if he had to. He hopes he doesn’t have to. Sometimes just walking in the front door is enough to get people scrambling for the cash they “forgot” to pay. Though… this poor guy might not be so lucky. The man Hob’s been sent after today — what was his fancy name? Morpheus?  — lives in a nearly empty studio apartment, entirely furnished with vivid canvases and one fold-out mattress on the floor. Hob reaches back to lock the door while he takes in the expansive scenes of… some fantasy world? It’s like nothing he’s ever seen. A dreamy mix of magical creatures, starry galaxies, keen eyed ravens, and glittering abstractions. 

Well, maybe if he’d gone into graphic design — made some boring logos or something — he’d’ve been able to pay his bills.

Morpheus is madly tallying his resources in his brain.

He’s got about 18$ coming in from Patreon. If he does a sale on prints, he might be able to move a few extra, but the profit would be less… He’s already skipped anything fresh at the grocery store this week, subsisting on spaghetti, diced tomatoes, and baked beans — the only things the calories-per-dollar calculation would allow. 

No matter how he does the math, it comes up short. 

When the man takes a silent step toward him, Morpheus panics. His mind goes utterly blank. His heart is still doing it’s fucking stupid thing. 

He kisses the man.

Hob’s used to this. Plenty of people try to pay their debts with their carnal talents. He’s not usually interested. The problem is this: Morpheus is hot. The kiss is deep and warm and… feels oddly real? Like genuinely passionate? Morpheus’ long fingers send tantalizing chills through Hob’s skin. Now, the broke artist is sliding to his knees, and when he looks up, his pupils are so thick with arousal that his blue eyes are almost black.

Sigh. 

Fine. He can suck Hob’s cock this one time, and Hob will take care of this payment out of his own pocket. He gets paid well and is good at his job — people like him, he's not your typical goon, he's pleasant until he needs to be otherwise, and gives them every chance to search the couch cushions, so to speak. So the cash isn’t much to him. But in this business, paying other people’s debts is a bad habit to get into. Anyone would go broke doing that. 

But Morpheus’s lips feel so good, and Morpheus is, like, into it. Like laving Hob’s balls and working his fingers into his cleft and over his asshole. He opens his throat so Hob can really ram himself down there. And by the time Hob comes (gritting his teeth & trying/failing to tell himself it’s not that good), he actually feels kinda bad that he’s gotten such a good deal on a quality blow job.

Two weeks later, Hob is resolved to be the consummate professional — strictly cracking bones or collecting cash, whichever’s appropriate, but definitely not getting off on the clock.

But Morpheus opens the door without hesitation, and he’s wearing black joggers, slung low on his jutting hips, and… a lacy body suit that plunges almost to his naval, is so high cut it frames said hips, and is sheer enough in the right places that his pale rose nipples poke through deliciously.

SIGH.

Fucking fine. 

Hob can bend Morpheus over the counter and fuck him hard this one time. But he makes sure to get in a few good hard spanks on that creamy ass. Hob’s not completely derelict in his duties, and this is an enforcement job.

(This is not even remotely the deterrent he hopes it is. For the next two weeks, every time Morpheus squirms as he sits on his bare hard floor as he paints, he will think of Hob’s sharp hands. Even when the pain fades, he will recall it acutely in his imagination as he strokes himself.)

And Hob pays Morpheus’s second installment.

It might surprise you to learn that the interest on a Mob loan shark’s loan is… not exactly competitive. By the third time Hob visits, the amount owed has barely gone down, thanks to sky-high rates that would put the payday lenders to shame. The third payment would be massive for anyone, but for a starving artist it’s catastrophic. 

But Morpheus is creative and determined to give Hob the full value. 

This time, Hob spends the entire night on Morpheus’s folding mattress on the floor discovering new ways to come undone in the artist’s clever hands and pulling Morpheus apart in turn. (Figuratively.) Morpheus begs to take his punishment from the sharp sting of Hob’s hands again, and Hob turns his backside beet red as every moan and cry from Morpheus’ lips goes right to his dick until he’s jerking himself off and coming on Morpheus’s back, marking him like he’s Hob’s own. Like neither of them belong to some cranky old Mob boss, but it’s just them, signing their names into each other’s skin.

By morning, they’re lying in each other’s arms and just talking. 

Morpheus tells Hob about going to Art School even after his parents tried to force him into something useful. He confesses the difficulties of making a living as an artist and on the internet especially. It’s not as easy as people think. He would do something else, but the pictures in his head just need to come out. Exhausted and trembling, he speaks of the way they grow in his unconscious, expanding to take up everything else, bringing chaos and cracks in his foundations if he doesn’t give them form and allow them an orderly outlet on the canvas.

Hob holds Morpheus tight to his chest as if that could ease the pain there, and he opens up, too. Hob didn’t used to be this. He was a History professor! He has no right forcing other people to make money! But then his wife had gotten ill. And this doctor — an arrogant prick who’d never taken anyone’s concerns seriously, who had years of secret complaints against him but was too much of a “star” to get fired — botched the surgery. And Eleanor and their unborn babe had died on the table. Hob had gotten a — frankly insulting — settlement from the hospital. Then he’d hunted down the doctor (who’d had connections in some shadowy parts of town — he hadn’t become a star by being good at medicine), and taken his revenge. The underworld had taken notice. 

And this paid a lot better than adjunct work.

Plus, unlike at the university, Hob’s skills are appreciated. Most humans of the twenty-first century are a lot easier to find and pick apart than the evidence on post-plague upheavals in labor relations in the fourteenth century, and Hob spent seven years doing that for his PhD. He’s persistent and meticulous. Not sloppy like some enforcers. Hob knows how to cause damage that hurts like hell but heals well. He’s done his research. (Something he’s finally getting paid for after over a decade in academia!)

Hob doesn’t even like debt collecting! It’s not his calling. When he’d been slogging through History essays, he’d fantasized about opening a pub. Sometimes he still does — his skills could come in useful breaking up bar fights, throwing out the jerks, keeping things peaceful. 

As the sun comes up, he kisses Morpheus softly on his lips. 

He pays the massive third installment.

On the fourth visit, Hob slips his hand into the messenger bag again and Morpheus’ heart thuds in something like fear. But instead of the crowbar, he pulls out a thick, wooden paddle. When his eyes rise to meet Morpheus’, there’s only a little of that old hardness left but mostly a question. Morpheus moans at the sight, the blood already shooting to his cock.

He really should borrow money from the Mob more often. 

He lets Hob bend him over the counter and ply the paddle all over his ass till he’s crying and begging for release. And then Hob is fucking him and biting into the meat of his shoulder and stroking him hard and fast as he thrusts against Morpheus’ bruised ass. They wind up tangled in the sheets long past morning. (The fourth payment is even bigger than the third.)

At some point, as Morpheus is boiling spaghetti for two, Hob decides fuck this job. 

Of course, it’s the Mob, so he can’t just put in his two week’s notice & shit on the boss’s desk like decent people do. So later, Hob — whose a genuinely nice guy when he isn’t cracking your skeleton & has built up his own little following within the business — pulls a Red Wedding and eliminates the entire current leadership. Fuck those guys. They were assholes anyway. People are happier now. (Anyone who wouldn’t be happy was invited to the wedding.)

Hob doesn’t actually want to take on the responsibility of a large crime syndicate, so he hands the reins over to a trusted buddy. Then he and Morpheus get the fuck outta there and start new lives in the big city where Morpheus can do real art shows and Hob can run his pub and feed Morpheus only the freshest food and lots of it, and every beating is strictly desired and thoroughly appreciated and never involves a crowbar.

BESTIE THIS IS SO GOOD!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW GOOD THIS IS. This is the most amazing mini fic.

Ngl I wish Hob would come around here with his "crowbar"

Honestly I love this concept of Mob Hob so much. I feel like it works so well with his canon storyline. It's not hard to imagine him reluctantly (but very effectively) smashing in kneecaps. And yeah he feels bad about it, but hey. Hob has had his own struggles and he wants to keep a roof over his head.

But he's not immune to a pretty little Dream, huh? He's not a nice guy, he just wants to get his dick wet. He's not in love or anything. I mean, he's not gonna shake up his entire life and risk everything by going up against the gang he's supposed to be working for.

.......right? 👀❤

[wordsandrobots]

I finished IBO recently, and I don't think I fully get why people call Mika and Orga's relationship one of "toxic codependence". That they depend on each other is obvious, but I feel like I'm missing out on why people think their relationship is unhealthy.

(Thank you for giving me a reason to procrastinate on the chapter I have nearly finished but my brain has gone 'nah' over.)

The way I look at it, there are two key levels on which it's unhealthy. These are related but I think it's worth distinguishing them, because one plays into wider problems within Tekkadan, while the other is a deeply personal matter between Orga and Mika.

But first of all, I think it's important to be clear: Orga and Mika's relationship is rooted in genuine care and affection. This is not apparent friendship built on a lie. These two really are together for life and there are many positive aspects to that. We see them joking about early on, Mika making sure Orga eats (whether he wants to or not), the ease with which they operate as a double-act -- and there's a real sense each would be dead before the series began if not for the other.

However, there is also a profound imbalance at the heart of their relationship. I've written before about how that imbalance is inverted compared to what it looks like at first glance; that is, Mika is the dominant personality, with Orga twisting to follow his wishes. At the same time, yes, Mika has absolutely outsourced his decision-making to Orga. No question. It might be Mika's desires and dreams that ultimately shape their path, but Orga is still the one making choices about where to go and who to shoot.

And it's the absolute degree of Mika's surrender that fucks Orga up. Because, to a very specific point, Mika will do exactly what Orga tells him without question. Period. Everybody else's opinions and orders are secondary to the man he's picked as his guiding star in life. I say 'man'; I mean 'boy'. This started when they were kids, after all, which is why Orga's sense of responsibility is quite so thoroughly warped.

As far as Orga is concerned, being in charge means working everything out on his own. Because Mika does not help him. Mika, at most, offers gut feelings for why something should be done; he never provides useful input on how to get from A to B. So Orga internalises that the buck stops with him, that he always has to be the decisive one, always has to have a plan.

It's masked to begin with because Biscuit is there as the angel on his other shoulder, offering useful advice and acting his second-in-command. However -- Orga never actually listens to what Biscuit has to say about the direction Tekkadan should go. That's the central tension in their relationship, in fact. Orga actively expects Biscuit to go along with what he chooses because that's what Mika does.

With Biscuit gone, there's nobody left to make even a token attempt at calling him on this tendency. Eugene utterly fails to, despite having a good set of instincts, because he's too committed to Tekkadan and too easily swayed by other people who seem to know better. Merribit gives it her best shot, but lacks the tools to approach the boys convincingly. Kudelia doesn't see it as her place. And the rest of Tekkadan fall in line over and over, reinforcing Orga's bad habits.

They trust him, is the thing. They trust him to deliver on the dreams he weaves, enough to offer up their lives on his say-so. None more than Mika himself, who literally gives an arm and a leg to make sure Orga's plans come through.

There is a point where this commitment slips out of Orga's control. I'm not sure where to pin it generally but the battle with the mobile armour is when Mikazuki makes it clear he isn't going to back down on the idea of becoming kings of Mars. He's seen Orga latch on to McGillis' offer as *the* destination, their place, where they can all be together and happy. And because he's always done whatever is necessary to see Orga's plans come through, he . . . does precisely that. Even knowing it's going to injure him further. Even with Orga literally telling him not to.

Making sure Orga gets his victory is more important.

I should stress how much this fucks Mikazuki up as well. I tend to focus a lot on Orga, but Mikazuki reduces himself down to a weapon for Orga's sake. To the point of breathing a sigh of relief once he's been sufficiently disabled he thinks he won't have a life outside Barbatos any more. Atra says at one point that Mikazuki is lazy over things that don't interest him -- that includes conceptualising an existence beyond fighting and following Orga. He does have his own dreams (being a farmer, seeing interesting sights) but actually working out how to achieve them after he's given away so much to Orga is beyond him. In the end, he simply gives them away too and chooses to keep following what he imagines Orga's orders would be.

Neither of these boys intended to do this to each other. That's the tragic part. Orga uses Mika as a weapon because it's the smart choice but it tears him up inside to see what that does to Mika as a person. Meanwhile, Mika insists what happens to him comes from his own choices and isn't something Orga should feel guilty over or see as a reason to give up.

And . . . here's where we move from the first level (Orga's no-middle-gear sense of responsibility coupled to Mika's unconditional loyalty) to the level on which Mika personally scares Orga into escalating over and over again.

It's that scene in the Montag Company ship. Or, no, it's not just that: Orga talks earlier about how he constantly feels Mika's eyes on him. Yet it's following Biscuit's death that this aspect of their relationship is laid bare.

I love this scene so much. It has the form of a triumphal rescue from grief, complete with swelling musical score, in much the way Mika often has the form of being the daring protagonist. But the content is Mika being the most blatantly scary he ever is in the entire show. The way he looks at Orga -- the way he always looks at Orga, his unblinking, uncompromising stare -- is at last framed as an overt threat. Mika is not going to let Orga give up because Orga promised to take him to the better place. What Orga wants is irrelevant.

Ah, screw it, I'm transcribing the dub script because it is so, so good.

"Tell me. What do you want me to do next, Orga?" "Hey give me a break. I'm just -" "Look I'm sorry. But I can't stop yet." "That's enough." "Now I wanna know -" "I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH -" Mika grabs Orga by the shirt, dragging him close. "Is this the place you told me about? 'Cos I won't stop. Not 'til we're there. I can't. On that day, Orga, I decided. So. How many should I kill? How many more until we get there? Because I need to know. Tell me, Orga Itsuka! You're gonna take me, aren't you? That's what you told me! What should I do next -?” "GET OFF ME! Orga throws Mika at the locker in the corner and stands up. "Yeah, alright, fine. I'll get you there. Can't turn around now anyway. That's what you want, RIGHT? No matter want kind of hell might be waiting for us. OK? Then I'll do it. And I'm bringing everyone with me." "Yeah. That's right. Take us there. So who do you need me to take out then? And what d'you want me to destroy? 'Cos if I finally get to reach that place someday, there's nothing that I won't do." SFX: lightning and thunder

This is not Mika pulling Orga out of the darkness. It's Mika driving Orga further into it, into a battle that kills dozens and very nearly ends with every single named character dead (in the real world, the commissioning of a second season saved them; in universe, it's stubbornness and pure fluke).

What would it be like to have someone so committed to what you've promised them, they would do anything for you, up to and including refusing to let you break your word? What would that be like if said person was the most dangerous individual you had ever met in your life, because there is a point past having no sense of self-preservation where no line is 'too far'?

That's Orga living with Mika as his shadow. That's not healthy. That's not sane. Orga comes loose at the seams attempting to be what Mika expects of him, and I think he's genuinely terrified of what might happen if he can't.

It goes the other way too. The scene in the ship is one of two times I'd say, yeah, that's what Mika looks like when he's scared. The other is immediately prior, when it seems Carta is going to kill Orga. 'That's what you told me' isn't just a reminder for Orga; it's the closest Mika gets to a crisis of faith. Seeing the one you believe in waver is its own form of terror and Mika has committed everything he's got to Orga. He can't conceive of stopping now.

[I should say, I primarily watched the dub and the vocal performances vary somewhat here even if the underlying intent doesn't. I love what Kyle McCarley does, injecting a note of increasing franticness into Mika's speech, but Kengo Kawanishi hits the volume rise hard on 'What should I do next?', hammering home just how much he needs an answer. Of course, they then both give Mika this deliciously bloodthirsty joy when he gets the one he's looking for.]

I don't know if there's anything Orga could do that would truly break Mika's faith or push Mika to turn that prodigious strength against him. I don't get the feeling Mika is the kind of person who'd ever hurt a friend for real. He isn't cruel and we see how much friendship matters to him (woe betide anyone who hurts the people close to him).

But what these two are actually capable of is beside the point. What matters is what they think of one another and they each think the other is the most amazing thing in existence. Orga sees Mika as near superhuman and Mika sees Orga as fantastically brilliant, and they're both afraid of being proved wrong, so they aim for an impossibility imposed by their mutual expectations.

The further they head down the shortest path to their goals, the more Mika crumbles physically and the more Orga crumbles emotionally. Like an engine shaking itself to pieces as it turns faster and faster. Love, hope, faith, determination -- and no brakes. A mad charge towards destruction.

I don't tend to describe things as 'toxic'. For whatever reason, it's not a word with much presence in my vocabulary. Still, I think it fits here. Mika and Orga's relationship might have been healthy, in a kinder world. It's undeniably the most important aspect of their lives. There's no intention on either on part to cause hurt. But the combination of who they are and the circumstances they are trapped in means they're ultimately toxic to each other.

No matter how much they care or want what's best, the very form of their relationship impedes their ability to grow, cuts them off from those who might be able to help with that, and eventually leads them to their deaths.

-----

Well, that's how I see it anyway. I hope this helped? I think Iron-Blooded Orphans does some pretty brilliant things in terms of presenting fucked-up relationships that have positive aspects while at the same time dooming the participants, so I'm always happy to ramble about that aspect of the show. Or indeed, any aspect of it at all!