#of the algorithm that knows you better than yourself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thegalleonsnest · 8 months ago

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OK since I haven't seen too many people talk about this since twitter news usually strikes pretty fast over here whenever e'usk does anything ever, let me give ya'll the run down on two things that will go live on NOVEMBER 15TH and why people are mass migrating to Blue Sky once more; and provide resources to help protect your art and make the transition to Blue Sky easier if you so choose:

The Block function no longer blocks people as intended. It now basically acts as a glorified Mute button. Even when you block someone, they can still see your posts, but they can't engage in them. If your account is a Public one and not a Private one, people you blocked will see your posts.

They say because people can easily "share and hide harmful or private information about those they've blocked," they changed it this way for "greater transparency." When in reality, this is an extremely dangerous change, as the whole point of blocking is to cease interaction with people entirely for a plethora of reasons, i.e. stalking, harassment, spam, endangerment, or just plainly annoying and not wanting to see said tweets/accounts. or you know, for 18+ accounts who do not want minors interacting with them or their material at all (There is speculation saying these changes are specifically for Elon himself so he can do his own kind of stalking, and honestly, with the private likes change, it lowkey checks out in my opinion)

Also, this straight up goes against and may violate Apple and Google's app store policies and also is straight up illegal in Canada and probably other countries as well.

If this ACTUALLY goes through, twitter will only be available in select countries, probably exclusively in the US, which would collapse the site with the lost of users and stock, and probably be the last push it needs to kill the site. And if not, will be a very sad and exclusive platform made for specific kinds of people who line up with musk's line of thinking.

2. New policies regarding Grok AI and basically removing the option to opt out of Grok's information gathering to improve their software.

And anything you upload/post on the site is considered "fair game" with "royalty-free licenses" and they can do whatever they please with it. Primarily using any and all posts on twitter to train their Grok AI. A few months ago, there was a setting you can opt out of so they couldn't take anything you post to "improve" Grok, but I guess because so many people were opting out, they decided to make it mandatory as part of the policy change (This is mainly speculation from what I hear).

So this is considered the final straw for a LOT of people, especially artists who have been gripping on to twitter for as long as they can, but the AI nonsense is too much for people now, including myself. Lot's of people are moving to Blue Sky for good reason, and from personal experience, it is literally 10x better than twitter ever was, even before elon took over. There is no algorithm on there, and you can save "feeds" to your timeline to have a catered timelines to hop between if your looking for something specific like furry art or game dev stuff. It's taken them a bit to get off the ground and add much needed features, but it's genuinely so much better now

RESOURCES

Project Glaze & Cara

If you're an artist who's still on twitter or trying to ride it out for as long as you can for whatever reason you have, do yourself a favor and Glaze and/or Nightshade your work. Project Glaze is a free program designed to protect your art work from getting scrapped by AI machines. Glazing basically makes it harder to adapt and copy artwork that AI programs try to scan, while Nightshade basically "poisons" works to make AI libraries much more unstable and generate images completely off the mark. (These are layman's terms I'm using here, but follow the link to get more information)

The only problem with these programs is that they can be resource intensive for computers, and not every pc can run glaze. It's basically like rendering a frame/animation, you gotta let your pc sit there to get it glazed/nightshade, and depending on the intensity and power of your pc, this may take minutes to hours depending on how much you wanna protect your work.

HOWEVER, there are two alternatives, WebGlaze and Cara

WebGlaze is an in browser version of the program, so your pc doesn't have to do the heavy lifting. You do need to have an account with Glaze and be invited to use the program (I have not done so personally so I don't know much about the process.)

Cara is an artist focused site that doubles as both a portfolio site and a general social media platform. They've partnered with Glaze and have their own browser glazing called "Cara Glaze," and highly encourage users to post their work Glazed and are extremely anti-ai. You do get limited uses per day to glaze your work, so if you plan on doing a huge backlog uploading of your art, it may take awhile if your using just Cara Glaze.

Some twitter users have suggested glazing your art, cropping it, and overlaying it with a frame telling people to follow them elsewhere like on Bluesky. Here's a template someone provided if you wanna use this one or make your own.

Blue Sky Resources and Tips

So if your a twitter user and your about to realize the hellish task of refollowing a massive chunk of people you follow, have no fear, there's an extension called Sky Follower Bridge (Firefox & Chrome links). This is a very basic extension that makes it really easy to find people on Bluesky

It sorts them out by trying to find matching usernames, usernames in descriptions, or by screen name. It's not 100% perfect, there's a couple people I already follow on Blue Sky but the extension could not find them on twitter correctly, but I still found a huge chunk of people. Also if your worried that this extension is "iffy," they do have a github open with the source publicly available and the Blue Sky Team themselves have promoted the extension in their recent posts while welcoming new users to the platform.

FEEDS and LABELS

OK SO THE COOLEST PART ABOUT BLUESKY IS THE FEEDS SYSTEM. Basically if you've made a twitter list before, it's like that, but way more customizable and caters to specific types of posts/topics. Consolidating them into a timeline/feed that exclusively filled about those particular topics, or just people in general. There's thousands to pick and choose from!

Here's a couple of mine that I have saved and ready (down below). Some feeds I have saved so I can jump to seeing what my friends and mutuals are up to, and see their posts specifically so it doesn't get lost in reposts or other accounts, and also specialized feeds for browsing artists within the furry community.

The Furry Community feeds I have here were created by people who've built an algorithm to place any #furry or #furryart or other special tags like #Furrystreamer or #furrydev. They even have one for commissions, and yes you can say commissions on a post and not have it destroyed or shadow banned. You are safe.

If you want, and I highly recommend it to get visibility and check out a neat community, follow furryli.st to get added to their list and feeds. Once your on the list, even without a hashtag, you'll still pop up in their specialized feeds as just a member of the community there. There are plenty of other feeds out there besides this one, but I feel like a lot of people could use one like this. They even got ones for OC specific too I remember seeing somewhere.

And in terms of labels, they can be either ways to help label yourself with specific things or have user created accessibility settings to help better control your experience on Blue Sky.

And my personal favorite: Ai Imagery Labeler. Removes any AI stuff or hides it to the best of it's abilities, and it does a pretty good job, I have not seen anything AI related since subscribing to it.

Finally, HASHTAGS WORK & No need to censor yourself!

This is NOT like twitter or any other big named social media site AT ALL, so you don't have to work around words to get your stuff out there and be seen. There are literally feeds built around having commissions getting and art seen! Some people worry about bots and that has been a recent issue since a lot of people are migrating to Blue Sky, but it comes with any social media territory.

ALSO COOL PART,

you can search a hashtag on someone's profile and search exclusively on that profile as well! You can even put the hashtag in bio for easy access if you have a specialize tag like here on tumblr. OR EVEN BUILD YOUR OWN ART FEED FOR YOUR STUFF SPECIFICALLY!

So yeah, there's your quick run down about twitter's current burning building, how to protect your art, and what to do when you move to Blue Sky! Have fun!

#Twitter #Blue Sky #BlueSky #Cara #Project Glaze #Glazed Art #NightShade #Twitter Update #cara artists #art resource #resource #Online resource

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milatiny-xx · 2 months ago

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fan service special | p.sh

pairing: park seonghwa x gn!reader summary: you tried to convince yourself that you're not really that jealous of atiny. you know seonghwa is loyal to you and fan service is part of his job, but this time you need to hear it from him. tags: jealous reader, just fluff with kisses and cuddles, a minor fade to black (implied mostly) <3 wc: 2.1k a/n: if park seonghwa doesn't have the most perfect mouth on god's green earth idk who does. why is he literally soooo pretty x

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Seonghwa has been out of town for a little over a month. He's away for ATEEZ's North American leg of the In Your Fantasy tour. Of course, you're beyond happy for him and the other members that they're so successful.

But you miss your Hwa terribly.

Video calling helps but, with travel and protocol, he's not always available for it. Talking over the phone is better than nothing, but it's just not the same. You need to see him.

To fill the Seonghwa-shaped void in your life, you've taken the pathetic step of scrolling social media to watch fan edits of him. Once you start, you sometimes find it a little hard to stop. You watch them all—or as many as you can find in the two hour stretch of free time you have before bed.

You're embarrassed by the fact that your algorithm is completely flooded with thirst traps of your own boyfriend. You're even more embarrassed to admit that you enjoy the demon line videos best. It's nice to have clips from his concerts across the globe. Since you aren't able to be at all of them, you love still being able to see bits and pieces through fan edits.

At the same time, it's like a curse, watching the way Atiny see Seonghwa. It makes you jealous. As much as you enjoy the videos themselves, you don't like reading the thirst comments—people you've never met imagining what your boyfriend's tongue is capable of, fantasizing what he's like in the sheets...

It can be difficult to swallow.

You can usually get over the comments but sometimes you find yourself deleting drafts of angry comments you considered posting. Of course you would never, ever want to do anything to jeopardize Seonghwa's relationship with Atiny or ATEEZ as a whole.

After all, you're technically Atiny, too. And you can't say that you blame them. You completely understand how feral they feel about Hwa. You get it better than anyone and, sometimes, you just wish you could remind them of that.

But when you see that comment...you aren't sure what to do with yourself. On a concert video of Hwa doing the Wake Up drop, a fan left a comment saying: "if this man ever gets a partner, they better watch their back bc i'll ruin that relationship rn".

You've seen similar comments before. But something about the way the comment is written and the aggressiveness of the replies underneath...it just rubs you the wrong way.

Your stomach churns, a sick feeling swirling around in your gut. You're so upset, you can't even bring yourself to type and delete a mean reply. You think about it for the rest of the night. You sleep terribly and feel even worse in the morning.

The only thing that finally gets you out of bed is the fact that Hwa is scheduled to come home today in time for dinner. You're planning to take him out to his favorite restaurant as a welcome home surprise.

To distract yourself during the day, you clean and organize the entire house. You want it to be nice for Hwa when he gets back. It helps. But only for the few hours that it takes you to do it.

When finished, you have nothing else to do but wait anxiously for your boyfriend's return. That leaves you with hours and hours to stew over that stupid comment. You waste another hour on a shower, standing under the boiling hot water and trying to get over it. But even after scrubbing yourself clean, your skin is crawling.

Exhausted, you slip into one of Hwa's sweatshirts and lie down on the couch. Curling up with one of your plushies, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale his scent. At least Atiny could never know this—what it feels like to cuddle into his clothes like this.

The next thing you know, someone is gently rocking your body. Your eyes stick together like glue as you blink yourself awake. Drowsy and confused, you peer around the room. It's dark. Groaning, you reach up to massage your sore neck.

Your gaze lazily shifts to the side where it locks with Seonghwa's.

"Hwa!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck.

He gasps quietly as you lunge forward. His arms wind around your waist, catching you as you start to slip off the couch. Seonghwa chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. You melt onto his knee. Breathing him in like an addict, you clutch him way too tightly for either of you to be comfortable.

"Hi, darling," he says, his sweet voice melodic and gentle. "I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Hwa," you mumble into his shoulder. "You have no idea how much."

His palm is warm on your back as he massages your spine. You release a deep sigh. He rests his cheek against your head. You stay wrapped in each others arms for a few more moments before he moves to pull away, but you grasp onto him even tighter.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You can't respond right away, embarrassed about still being upset over that comment.

"Y/N?" he continues, voice somehow firm and soft at the same time, "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"I just...just missed you so much."

"I know, jagi. But I'm back now. Ah, you said you had a surprise for me when we were on the phone last night. I'm excited to see what it is."

"Oh!" you gasp, pulling away. "I forgot! Oh, what time is it?"

"Nine o'clock. Why? Did we miss something?"

"Oh no!" you whine and drop your face into your hands. How long was I asleep for?"

"Uhh...I'm not sure. You were out cold when i got home, and I didn't want to disturb you, so I just decided to let you keep sleeping. Was that…wrong?"

"No, no of course not," you say sweetly, reaching out to cup his face. "That was so sweet of you. It's just that I made dinner reservations for us at your favorite restaurant. I wanted it to be a welcome home surprise, but the reservations were for six. we missed it."

"Oh, my darling, I'm sorry. I should have woken you up when I got back, but you looked so tired."

"No. It's not your fault, Hwa. It's mine. I can't believe I fell asleep. I should have been able to stay awake until you got back. But I was so exhausted from..."

"From what? Did something happen?"

It's devastating—the way he looks at you. It's like you're a baby chick who needs caring for, like you're the most precious thing in the world. His eyes are soft, gentle, caring. Atiny dubbing Seonghwa the mother of ATEEZ makes all the sense in the world. You can say for certain that they're spot-on. That look always manages to make your heart flutter.

"It's nothing. Really," you say quietly.

"If it's upsetting you, then it's something. Please tell me, jagi."

"I saw a comment on a video of you and it really bothered me. But, please, don't worry about it. I'm overreacting, and I know it."

"A comment? Where? What did it say?"

You don't respond, glancing up at him. His eyebrows are furrowed, his concern clear in his expression.

"What did it say?" he asks, more firmly this time.

You repeat the comment, word for word from memory, and gulp. Seonghwa doesn't respond. His expression melts, that soft mothering stare morphing into deep wrinkles on either side of his mouth. He releases a deep sigh. He closes his eyes and drops his head.

"I know it's silly to be bothered over something so trivial as that," you explain. "I mean, I see comments like that all the time. Usually on thirst traps, so I try not to take them seriously. This one just really made me feel awful. I know I shouldn't be jealous of Atiny. I'm basically one of them since I'm your biggest fan on the planet. But...I just feel jealous. I don't like the thought of so many people knowing you like I do. I want to be special to you. I want there to be things that Atiny doesn't understand like I do."

He raises his head, eyes softening again as he holds your gaze.

"What sorts of things?"

"Like…well like…" your eyes flick down to is lips. You impulsively reach forward, pressing your fingertip against his lips. "Like how these feel. And that look that you always give when you're comforting me, and how your arms feel around me at night, and all the little sounds you make only to me. I know fan service is part of your job, but sometimes i worry that you do it too well."

Seonghwa smiles, his palm sliding onto your cheek. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. Your heart is pounding with nerves. You aren't sure why.

You feel his nose brush against yours first. Your lips part in anticipation, a reflex triggered by all the times your man has kissed you so sweetly.

No feeling in the world could compare to the sensation of Seonghwa's mouth on yours. His plump lips are the perfect size. They fit around yours like a glove, slipping in between your top and bottom. His kisses are deep and wet and soft, with the perfect amount of pressure.

Hwa's arm snakes around your waist, holding your body against his. You wrap your legs around his hips. Your fingers interlock behind his neck. His head turns to the side to deepen the kiss.

You accept his mouth greedily, hungrily like a starving person, as he kisses you slowly. Each time his lips separate from yours, he pauses a moment. And each time, your breath hitches as you wait for him to come back to you. When he kisses you again, it feels like lightning ricocheting through your body. You lose track of how long your mouths move together, mind clouding with desire.

When he finally pulls away, you can barely rip your eyes open to peer at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. I'm not always thinking about the impact on you when I act like that onstage. But I should."

"No, not at all. I don't want you to act differently or change yourself. What you're doing is incredible and beautiful, and it works. I wouldn't change a single thing about you, Hwa. I mean, look at you. You're perfect."

You smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands. Your fingers brush his long black hair behind his ears. A shiver runs through your spine at the silkiness of his locks. He grins sweetly. He reaches up, wrapping his hands around your wrists. His thumbs draw rhythmic circles on the backside of your hands.

"I love you, jagi. Everything about you. I don't deserve you," he says quietly. He angles his head to the side, pressing his warm lips to your palm. "You're perfect to me. I love Atiny, but they could never, ever replace you. No one could. Even if you are jealous."

You giggle but then flatten your lips to glare at him. His head lolls to the side. He narrows his eyes as his beautiful mouth quirks up into the slightest of smirks.

"So...you watch thirst traps of me?" he asks.

You press your lips into a tight line, feeling heat spread across your cheeks.

"Well, sometimes!" you answer defensively. "With you...slutting it up out there, it's hard to avoid them."

"Slutting it up?" he repeats, raising his eyebrows.

You hum in agreement, raising your chin teasingly. You giggle and thread your fingers into the roots of his hair. He grins. He tips forward, pressing his lips to yours. You sigh happily, drinking him in. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. He nudges the tip of your nose with his.

"You are my number one, my darling," he whispers. "You always will be. I promise."

"I love you, Seonghwa."

"I love you too, Y/N." You smile, brushing your fingers over his mouth. "Now, how about I treat my sweet bunny to a...special fan service. One that only you get to experience."

"Oh? Like what?" you purr.

Seonghwa catches his lip between his teeth as he gently tips forward, pressing your back against the couch. His eyes darken, dropping down to fake in your body.

"I have a few ideas. Some things I've been missing and other things I've been thinking about while I was away."

"Hmmm, I think I'd like that."

"Good," he responds, his voice husky. "We have a lot of time to make up for. Buckle up, jagi. I missed you a lot."

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat

#seonghwa #park segonhwa #ateez #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #seonghwa fic #ateez fic #fic #milatiny-xx

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makeitworse · 2 months ago

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LIKE A CAROUSEL

with nothing left to lose, you decide to confront your illicit past with ji-yong. old habits die hard (or maybe not at all).

⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part three 𓂃 c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. angst | smut | fluff. age gap. cheating. conflict. breakup. confessions. endgame. nsfw content minors dni

like promised, you and ji-yong hadn’t spoken since that night. there was no “we should talk” text. no explanation of what it meant. just clean-cut silence. and that was for the better.

you went your separate ways once again— him, working on the new album. and you, going back home to your boyfriend.

you clung to the safe, mundane life you had with him. you pretended that you hadn’t just thrown it all away for a hit-and-run with your ex.

it was little more than just a singular, impulsive, meaningless night. you tell yourself ji-yong probably felt the same. and for a while, it works.

until the photos surface.

blurry, grainy; obviously shot from a phone camera with shaky hands. you could laugh at how low quality they were, if you weren’t sick to your stomach.

there’s one of you and ji-yong standing in a dimly lit corner of the chanel show. another of him leaning in closer while you’re speaking. and then one that makes your insides flare: ji-yong mid-conversation with someone else, craning his neck to stare at you from across the room.

thankfully, the articles don’t name you— just “a mystery woman spotted with g-dragon”. but, it still found its way to your boyfriend’s algorithm. he sent you the link to one with a question mark. then came another.

it wasn’t long before he finally approached you, holding out his phone.

“this was him?”

you barely glanced at the photo. the way ji-yong’s looking at you in it has been burned into your memory.

“yeah,” you answer, keeping your tone light. “it was just a surprise catch-up. i didn’t even know he’d be there.”

that part, at the least, is true.

what you neglect to mention: the locked hotel door. the drink you shared. the way ji-yong looked at you after you shoved him, like he’d let you do anything you wanted.

but for now, it’s enough to reassure your boyfriend. you just hoped that’d be the last you’d hear of it.

come february, and übermensch drops like a bomb.

his comeback dominates the media. you only skimmed a few headlines before muting all mentions of his name. they’re saying it’s dark, sexy— raw in a way that feels like the carrion of a secret dragged into the spotlight.

you can’t help but recall the lyrics he used to hum against your skin, the verses he’d draft while writing late at night. you wonder if any of the ‘just between us’ songs made it to the final cut.

of course, fate’s got a sick sense of humour.

your boyfriend walked to you in the kitchen, phone in his hand and a strange look on his face.

“have you heard this?”

your throat tightens. you know he must’ve listened to the album. it can’t be anything good.

your boyfriend presses play on a song. it’s got a sensual tone to it. ji-yong’s voice is deep, the words raw.

you realise it must be bonamana— the one that fans have been whispering about online. track seven. the confessional. the one he sounds like he’s bleeding in.

you bite the inside of your cheek, keeping your gaze ahead as you listen. your boyfriend’s studying you.

ji-yong’s quite literally rapping about a girl with someone else waiting at home, but you’re tossing up the explanations in your head— this could all just be fiction, it’s a misunderstanding..

until the song reaches a particular verse. you’re floored. ji-yong’s practically retelling your encounter that night in the hotel: how you pushed him, got on top of him.

and he put it into a song for the whole world to hear. because of course he did.

your reaction’s louder than words. your boyfriend stares at you with his jaw clenched. he pauses the song— he’s got his answer.

“it’s about you, isn’t it?” his eyes search your face. “tell me i’m wrong.”

you swallow. “it is.”

he takes a step towards you. “when.”

“it was just the one time—”

“don’t do that.” he groaned, shaking his head. “don’t act like it was meaningless when the whole fucking world knows what it meant to him.”

there’s no use fixing it. you had this coming.

you gathered your things in silence while he paced the apartment like he was still waiting for something to change. for this to somehow be just another fight, not the end.

but it was. he wanted to hash it out, find some compromise and recover from this. but you refused to stay and ruin him any more than you already have. you would at least do him that grace.

and yet, in retrospect, it almost feels like there was nothing solid to end. like you’d been in limbo the entire time— pretending something steady existed between you, when really, your heart was never his to begin with.

you zipped up your overnight bag. he stood in the doorway, watching you with a hollow look.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly. it’s all you had left to offer him. pitiful, too little too late— especially after ji-yong had bared the truth of it all to the world, immortalising your betrayal in his music.

your now-ex didn’t yell. didn’t cry. you shared a knowing nod as you turned the door knob— the kind of look that said all the things his mouth couldn’t.

before you walked out, his voice comes softly: “you chose him. maybe not out loud, but you did.”

he’s not wrong. and what’s worse— you’ve started to think that this was always how it was going to end. you, finding your way back to ji-yong. it just shouldn’t of taken someone else’s heart as a stepping stone for you to get there.

you were two bottles of wine into your wallowing. alone in your apartment, a cigarette burning idly between your fingers that really hadn’t done much to take the edge off.

a coworker from your new firm, who’d become a good friend, was just checking in on you— and you, in your boozy woe is me state, bluntly mentioned the breakup. it was half a joke, half a cry for help. if you had sent that sober, you would’ve contemplated suicide for being so embarrassing.

she must’ve passed the word on, because hours later, your phone buzzed with a call from a familiar number. someone from your former styling team.

“we’re all going to the album listening party tonight. you could come out.” her voice is hesitant, like she’s unsure if she should be asking.

you weighed the options: a third bottle of wine, or going to your ex’s celebratory party (who was also the reason your last relationship just ended).

you couldn't decide which option would cost more of the last shred of dignity you had left.

“ah, fuck it. where do i meet you?”

guess that number’s below zero now.

the venue was all flashing lights and booming bass, full of industry faces and overlapping chatter. your back stayed glued to a wall, nursing a drink while you chatted with your old team.

your name hadn’t even been on the guest list— but someone from his team ushered you in without a second glance. you didn’t know how to feel about it. inside, you tried to ignore the way people’s gaze lingered on you, like they had a faint idea of who you were.

you watched the crowd sway to the music. personally, you weren’t paying it much mind; ji-yong had already played some of the demos for you.

but then you hear the start of one you don’t recognise. it’s groovy and upbeat— his voice doesn’t have that usual grit to it.

then the chorus comes, and your breath catches.

take me, i’m yours.

you recall hearing that before, except it was said in private— ji-yong had once cooed those words to you, gazing at you with heart-eyes while his head laid on your chest.

he must’ve wrote this while you were still together. you wonder just how much the rest of the album had your memory etched into it. is that why they called you here? how many people knew?

a lump formed in your throat. it’s all too much.

you scanned the room— searching, needing— when your eyes land on him, already looking at you. ji-yong, drink in hand, with youngbae’s arm slung over his shoulder. he looked untouchable under the pulsing red lights.

everything else around him fell away. his eyes are burning, flickering with something you can’t quite place. and when you don’t avert your eyes— he puts down his drink, and he’s moving. so you excuse yourself from the table and wade through the crowd.

you trail ji-yong to a quiet corner of the room.

as you approach, you stop in front of him, close enough to hear his breath tremble. you don’t speak first.

“didn’t think i’d see you here.” he says, quiet under the music.

“me neither.” you admit.

take me’s chorus booms in the background— ji-yong’s own voice begging to be taken by you. he huffs a shy laugh, lifting his straw hat to ruffle his hair.

how he can act so flustered, when he’s the one who put it out there for everyone (or perhaps just you) to hear. speaking of which;

”i heard bonamana,” you start. ji-yong’s head raises at that, his eyes anticipating your reaction. a smirk tugs at your lips. you scoff. “you’re a mess.”

ji-yong fidgets with his sleeves. there’s a small smile on his face. it’s cute, how shy he is. seems like he really wasn’t expecting this.

“wanna talk?”

his reply is instant, soft but certain. “not here. come with me?”

and you do. because of course you do.

ji-yong leads you into a quieter lounge room tucked away from the rest of the venue, the bass of the party muffled by the door as it clicks shut behind him.

there’s low lighting, and a velvet sofa against the wall that you perch on. ji-yong’s standing there with his hands in his pocket, his stance more relaxed.

“you really listened to it?” he asks, soft.

you met his eyes, cocking a brow. “you’ve got nerve, releasing that while i had a boyfriend.”

his mouth pulls into something between a grimace and a smile. “had?”

you sit up straighter. “well i’m here, aren’t i?”

he nods slowly. his eyes drift, avoiding yours, like he’s scared he’ll say too much if he keeps looking. your hands curl to fists in your lap.

“couldn’t this have been a phone call, ji? did you have to… sing it all?”

his head tilts back, face cracking with a smile. there’s no humour in it though— he’s trying to hold himself back.

“i thought you were done with me.” his jaw clenches. he shifts in his spot. “i got to keep you close to me when i wrote about you. even if i didn’t get to be yours.”

you’re quiet. ji-yong goes to step towards you, but restrains himself. he settles on playing with his ring instead.

“i didn’t plan this. i swear, i didn’t approach you in hong kong intending to drag you back into my life. but when i saw you..” he exhales a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut, like he’s replaying the memory of that night. “i hoped.”

he pauses, staring at you intently— like he’s daring you to look away. you hold his gaze, and he’s sure of himself enough to slowly step towards you.

“i hoped you’d still remember us the way i do.”

your throat tightens as you watch him hover above you in the chair. you stand, and your faces are dangerously close once you’re on your feet. you can hear the faintest noise from his throat.

“i can’t forget.” you murmur. “and that’s the fucking problem.”

“then let’s stop pretending.” his eyes soften. “please.”

you look at him. really look at him. and for the first time in a long time, you feel the mask slipping from your face.

and then you hear it— the intro to gyro-drop bleeding through the walls. you blink at him, registering the lyrics. ji-yong watches your reaction, face a cross between amusement and dread. your face splits in a laugh.

“you’re really letting everyone know you bottom, huh?”

he winces with a boyish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “it wouldn’t be right otherwise.”

you hum in response, pinching the brim of his hat teasingly. he watches with bated breath as you lift it from his head. tossing it to a side table, ji-yong snatches your waist into his hands with a newfound impatience.

“i missed you so much,” he says breathlessly. “been waiting for you.”

“mm, i heard.” you drawl, cupping his jaw in your palms.

and then the tension boils over. ji-yong’s yanking you into a kiss, mouths meeting with months worth of pent-up hunger. by the lapel of his jacket, you pull him down onto the couch with you, wasting no time straddling his lap.

you’re both hurried with the rocks of your hips, trading messy kisses that left your chin stained with saliva. it wasn’t long before hands were being shoved down pants, and clothes swiftly pushed to the side.

you fucked ji-yong right there on that couch. his hands on your hips, looking up at you with heart-eyes as you rutted down on his dick. he was a whining mess— sloppy thrusts trying to match your pace.

you had to muffled his mouth with a kiss as he came— you worried he’d be louder than the music.

as you both winded down from your highs, ji-yong pressed his forehead to yours, strands of hair drenched with sweat.

“i’m yours.”

and in that moment, with your heart thudding against his and your lips brushing softly, you kiss him— sweeter this time. it’s not just want, it’s a promise. and it didn’t need to be said out loud. you’re his.

the dressing room buzzes with a life that could only be described as an organised chaos— stylists flitting around with last-minute touch-ups, his team checking monitors and cue sheets, the distant roar of the crowd beyond the stage.

in the eye of the storm, ji-yong’s calm. he’s seated in a chair at the vanity, head tipped back and eyes closed while you adjust his chains.

“these will wilt if you keep sweating,” you tease, poking the fabric of his rose jacket.

he cracks one eye open with a smile. “promise to dry me off?”

you roll your eyes and flick his ear, earning a low chuckle from him.

you check your watch— showtime’s in just a few minutes. ji-yong’s hand finds your waist with ease, tugging you closer so you’re standing between his legs.

instinctively, you go smooth over the fabric of his shirt, fix up the neckline. despite being well-established at your job, you still find yourself reverting back to your habits from being ji-yong’s stylist.

you brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “you nervous?”

he shrugs. “night can’t get much better than this.”

you arch a brow. he cracks open an eye to scrunch his nose at you, pulling you down for a kiss.

it’s brief, a soft press of lips, but it grounds you both. a reminder of what it took to get here. of the time you spent apart, the quiet hope buried under all the words unsaid.

how now, you can kiss in front of his staff without anyone staring sideways. how you can support him before the first concert of the tour, by his side and in the public eye.

how he’ll go out on that stage, and the crowd will sing along to the words he wrote in reminiscence of you. hoping you’d come back to him. waiting.

a crew member distantly yells the two-minute call.

ji-yong exhales, taking your hand in his. you give him a reassuring squeeze.

“i’ll be watching from the side.”

“well, now i have to do my best, don’t i?”

you watched him as he positioned himself on the platform, giving you one last smile as ji-yong, before he emerged on the stage as g-dragon.

ji-yong to you, g-dragon to the audience. and all of him, belonging to you.

a/n: and it’s done! hope you enjoyed reading this lil series as much as i did writing it, thank you all for readin ♡

taglist ⟢ @breakmeoff @emmiesoverthemoon @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @jennierubyjem @namsgyu

@aokism @kandixcx @famouskoalastudent @ctrldivinev @myn4mgyu @aizshallnotbefound @astralruem @siideros @myst3rionn @aanaritt @lowkeyylaura @emmyf1 @comitzsiren @puddingknows @btwimmel @hrtswon @ufoev3 @drwholuvr @bambambwi @bloody-kissez @amoondragon @bfiechso @renjunniehavenn @1tsnotgab1 @cannotdriveinastraightline @numeroun01 @nirvanainmypants @zcmda @siriusly-rem-writes @jajabro @leagueofvillainsenthusiest @enhypj @eclips-moon @multiple-fandom @kjydrgnnnn @gdgirl21 @inhogf @namelesswoah @nerdytif @acidsparks @riddlerloveb0t @sylviavf

#gdragon x reader #g dragon x reader #gdragon smut #bigbang x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #sub!gdragon #sub!bigbang #g dragon smut #bigbang smut

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mercif4l · 5 months ago

Text

/𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿.

pairing: reader x choi 'buzzcut' vernon genre: angst, hurt no comfort wc: 1.2k summary: fingers off the unblock button or you're gonna regret it, girl content warning: angst bro. lovers to strangers, mentions of eating difficulties, rotting post-breakup, self-flagellating, i might wanna write an alt. ending to this bc what on earth is it so sad for.

it gets easier: they’re right about that, which pisses you off, frankly, but that’s just your pride talking.

first, you go no contact and it destroys you, and the rot makes your blood spill a darker, angry red, like cardinals on the cusp of their death.

then the rage is followed swiftly by embarrassment. at the circumstances, the context, your response, his response (or lack thereof), at being a human being with emotions beyond your control. it turns your teeth brittle and sore, and you can’t muster the courage to smile anymore, but at least you’re eating again.

the songs that dominate your breakup playlist fall into obscurity in the belly of your liked songs. savored, chewed up, swallowed, sizzling away in the same acid that digested ‘fireflies’ by owl city some 15 years ago.

now, they only startle you after their second chorus plays through the shitty sound system of some target eight months later.

then there’s that big, bulbous, obnoxious conclusion: acceptance.

maybe it’s the exposure therapy?

you see his face everywhere, not seeking it out, but not avoiding it either. you’re … you deserve to see that he has moved on. it’s good for you to see him and try to accept the feelings that linger (beyond bitterness and resentment).

because where that tunnel ends, you know he has made you happy. he persists in making you happy, still. the better memories are too plentiful to count or ignore, and his stupid grin always makes you grin right back, no matter the distance—even if it is watching some moment of fanatic hysteria explode on twitter.

so it does get easier. yes, even as you’re inundated with pictures of him performing to sold out arenas, or modeling brands whose names you know he's too scared to try and pronounce, or shuffling through an airport with a too-small baseball cap haphazardly hiding a new haircut. wait. a new haircut?

it's like something possesses you. one minute you're doomscrolling, the next you're neck deep in carat twitter's discourse over some fantaken photos.

while thousands of fans scream back and forth over something that will inevitably be confirmed in the next 24 hours, you realize-or remember-you're only privy to this news as a statistic. you're just another view in an algorithm. and that no one thinks (or cares) to ask you about hansol anymore, knowing you no longer have a place by his side.

oof. yeah, that still stings a bit. accepting you have no right to know, or otherwise being limited to investigative fangirling.

but you haven’t given yourself any room for mistake making so far, so why would you sully that clean streak? for the sake of haircut curiosity? what a stupid thing to suggest. idiotic, really. self-sabotaging idiocy.

to: +82 *** *** **** hey! new haircut looks cool. so sick the company finally let up. hope you’re doing good 👍

now, without the warm embrace of imessage’s delete option, you’ve kinda/sort of-fucked yourself.

“it gets easier my ass. yeah, yeah, gets easier to behave like a freak.” you berate yourself, sliding the phone across your table and vastly underestimating the distance it’d take to fall off. as you dive to catch it (and fail), that deafening ringtone only gives you reason to let it drop, to shatter the thing beyond recognizing its screen. but with this stupid heavy duty phone case hansol had bought a year back? no dice.

from: +82 *** *** **** haha thanks man ended up begging for forgiveness rather than waiting for permission :P from: +82 *** *** **** craaaazy how hard i tried to cover it up just to be clocked the second i stepped off the plane lol

you snicker at that. how ‘hard’ he tried?

to: +82 *** *** **** boy you wore a cap nothing was gonna cover that loooow taper fadeee 🎶 from: +82 *** *** **** brooo i was supposed to wear my hoodie but i got overstimulated from: +82 *** *** **** and i hope ur doing good too by the way from: +82 *** *** **** kinda geeked to hear from you haha

you have to put your phone down. this is dangerous, dangerous territory; like, walking through burning sand, sunburned and windlashed, toward a mirage. you have got to put your phone down.

to: +82 *** *** **** honestly just wanted to wish u well for the new year and lyk the buzzcut is super cool B)

these stupid keyboard emojis are a little secret you both keep. something silly you only use with each other that is so inconsequential, you can’t help but let your cheeks burn an angry red at their return.

why does it have to be so easy?

you are going to put the phone down, now.

to: +82 *** *** **** i’m sorry for blocking you—even though we said no contact it felt pretty immature. from: +82 *** *** **** glad u like the hair. was kinda bummed u weren’t the first to see it haha could only imagine the look on your face calling u after the cut or sending u a selfie :’) from: +82 *** *** **** nah i deserved it

he didn’t deserve it. sure, his whole being him shtick was what made the separation so excruciating in the first place, but you’d made the decision mutually. albeit a bit prematurely. in the way all confused adults do when they preempt disaster and jump ship at the first sign of smoke.

from: +82 *** *** **** that sounds crazy dramatic i just mean from: +82 *** *** **** it made sense? like it didn’t take long for me to get why you’d done it from: +82 *** *** **** i just figured pretty early on u knew what u were doing. you always did/do lol

your finger hovers over the call button. never before has it felt so offensive, so risqué to do such a thing, but you know that by ignoring the arbitrary rules of a breakup you’re tempting fate.

it doesn’t matter that before, you could do it as freely as you wished. that before, he would always pick up and never once avoided answering. before, you could send jibberish voicemails to litter his inbox, quadruple double triple text, or simply tell him to ‘ring’, and he’d oblige; because before you were in love. now, you’re an unnamed contact.

now, you stomp on the ashes like they’ll relight after a year being burned out.

from: +82 *** *** **** happy new year by the way!!!! from: +82 *** *** **** and belated happy holidays :) i pried and kwan let slip you got a billy joel record from him from: +82 *** *** **** i didn’t know you’d kept our player. why does that make me so happy?

you need to put the phone down. you have got to put the phone. you are going to put the phone down, now.

your stiff finger taps that blue icon before you can even think to stop it. it’s unfair, really, how this has to happen, but it was inevitable. because no amount of money in the world could buy you enough dignity to do this properly.

because when it comes to hansol, you’re nothing more than a fool.

caller id [+84 *** *** ****] > you will not receive phone calls, messages or facetime calls from people on the block list. confirm? caller blocked.

delete message history?

a/n: vaguely inspired by @xinganhao rockstar!reader and vernon breakup chapter.... like what if we all suffered more... because im a SICK MASOCHIST! and kae is my unknowing muse. also sorry for going afk and happy new year</3

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vxnitra · 16 days ago

Text

This fandom is out of control and it’s time to reevaluate where we go from here.

Over the past week it’s been a nightmare in the fandom with the stalking being brought to light but to be honest it’s been going on a lot longer than that with threats and hate towards them and fans to the point people are leaving. If we want to keep this fandom going we’re going to have to change as a community otherwise there won’t be any fandom.

So what can we do to make this a better space for us and the triplets?

1. Ignoring negativity- people can have opinions obviously but where do we get going back and forth arguing, if you don’t like what someone has said on your post or someone else’s you can delete or block the person, simple.

2. Stop entertaining drama- people will do shitty things and make up lies and drama but like point one ignore and block, cut off the attention they are seeking and you’ll feel better for it truly.

3. Learn to love yourself- now this one may seem confusing in here but just because someone may get more notice than you by other fans or the triplets doesn’t mean you are less than, sometimes its just the algorithm and we shouldn’t go sending hate to others for it. If it is deeply affecting you please take a break or block these accounts for your own mental health.

4. Lifting and supporting one another- we have many amazing, talented people in this fandom, don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and show your love for people as it can brighten someone’s day and you never know what friends you can make from it.

5. Excepting the fact the triplets need a break at times- since starting they have hardly taken breaks in their career so maybe that’s why people jump to conclusions when they take a break thinking they’re quitting (they’re not) unless they say otherwise. Im going to say this with love do not make them your life and make them an extension of your life because sitting waiting there for them to post and they don’t will hurt you in the long run.

6. Generalisation - we need to stop generalising fans, for example thinking all older fans are creeps because some are or calling younger fans annoying, have you met all younger fans to decide that? Get to know people before you judge rather than making assumptions.

7. Blaming- can we stop blaming and pointing fingers when things don’t go our way “ it’s the stalkers fault we don’t have a video I hope they’re happy”. I know some of these are jokes but some are serious but how do we know this? Maybe they’ve decided to change their filming schedule and if so it doesn’t matter we move on with our lives or go back and watch another video.

8. Not making everything public- I’m going to use the stalking incident as an example, the exposing could of been handled a lot differently like reaching out privately to a mutual of theirs instead of making everyone known of it to be spread around. We know they are private people as it is so I assume they didn’t want to open social media with the fandom like a dumpster fire and thousands upon thousands of notifications about it. I think stalkings wrong but we need to work on how we compose ourselves, we can do things calmly and let them handle it. Also sometimes bringing these things public can do more harm than good for them and it’s best to think about their safety.

Theres definitely a lot more points but I’ve rambled on long enough just take this post with a grain of salt if you don’t agree that’s fine just block me or ignore it. If you agree I hope we can apply them moving forward as this fandom can be amazing, a safe space for us to express ourselves and support the triplets together as a community.

Thank you for reading🤍

- I know my words mean nothing and I probably wasted my time writing this but I needed to get it off my chest.

#sturniolo triplets

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luiluvr · 5 months ago

Note

college! luigi struck down by a cold during finals week and still trying to keep up with school, ta stuff, frat stuff etc and reader urging him to rest and take care of himself and practically forcing him onto the couch with tea <333

sick n’ tired — luigi mangione

I LOVE THIS 😓😓❤️

WARNINGS: none! just affection and luigi being sick, mentions of Y/N

Luigi was always persistent in his work, he was incredibly dedicated and prompt with deadlines; especially in college. Only problem: he’s too dedicated. He would make sure his work is accomplished even if the world was ending.

So when a casual cold that everyone was inevitably getting during the winter semester, you found yourself trying to encourage him to take a break. The first day he had symptoms and felt under the weather: “I’m fine, it’s just a headache and runny nose. I’ll take something before bed and I’ll wake up feeling better.”

His words against yours you suppose.

Your classes were a lot earlier than his, so naturally you woke up way before him. You made yourself a to-go cup of coffee, gathered your bag and headed out. The two of you lived in different dorms; but they were across the hall from one another, which meant you saw each other all the time.

The day was normal, nothing of interest, you got through your morning class and a lengthy final, you were grateful to get it out of the way. You were on your way to a meeting with some other students about one of the support groups, there were usually two held during the day, you preferred attending the early one since there’s no classes during. On your way, you decided to drop in on Luigi, he was just barely waking up and getting around. Sluggishly. Very slowly.

You loved him but he looked like death. He stood at the small kitchen counter, a very.. yucky cough escapes his mouth. “You sound lovely.” You say as you set your bag down on a chair and watch him, he groans and mutters something inaudible. “I feel fantastic too.” He says back.

“So much for feeling better, hm?” You state a little cockily, he just glares at you. It’s funny but you also feel bad about it, his dark brown eyes are glossed over, his beard stubble was growing back on his jawline and chin; which he always hated and tried to maintain. His nose was getting red around the nostril where he would wipe and blow. Somehow, even in sickness the asshole managed to look cute. He just seemed laggy, not all there but also, too present. His ears hurt, they popped every time he drank from his water bottle. “Shut up.” He murmurs.

“You should stay here, get rest.” You say, tiptoeing to reach into a cupboard and get the box of elderberry tea out. It was nasty but it always helped when you were sick, so you bought some for Luigi. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that! I have finals all this week, plus a frat meeting Wednesday, which is really important, Y/N!” He was trying to be stern and get his words out quick, but he ended up just coughing excessively, rubbing his temple. Annoyed — almost.

“Jeez, Lu, I know this week is the worst to get sick during but you gotta focus on your health too, ya’know.” You say.

“I do know, but I already checked… I’m not running a fever so I’ll take a Tylenol later for my headache and some cough syrup before I leave. I have a two different exams today in calculus and algorithms, on top of that I’m the one planning the frat meeting, and quite frankly I haven’t really done much for it. I have no idea where it’s even going to be held this week.” He sighs and plops down on a chair.

“You’re overworking yourself, Lu. It’s catching up to you and now you’re sick.”

“It has nothing to do with it, sweetheart.” He says in that tone — you sigh, “I’m not gonna force you, but you need to rest. I’m fine with helping you plan whatever it is you need help with. However, I’m sure the other fraternity members would understand you needing to cancel and reschedule. It’s going all around, even a few of my professors had to cancel classes for the week.” Of course, he was stubborn and did it his way. Men never listen.

You went on to attend your last couple of classes and take the finals, Luigi forced himself to go Monday and Tuesday. Some of his friends came up and told you about his stubbornness in classes when the professor confronted him about not feeling well. As a teacher’s assistant, he resisted and insisted he was fine. Obviously everyone else didn’t think so because he had to sit away from other students as to not spread the bug.

As the week progressed he became more loopy, while you checked in on him daily, you finally decided to put your foot down. “Luigi Nicholas Mangione, you are staying in this dorm and you are resting. I don’t care if I have to strap you to that bed, I already canceled the fraternity meeting, a few of the members are sick as well and your professors are willing to reschedule a day for you to take the finals.”

He sat there, listening to you, his legs hung over the edge of his bed, looking more pale, his red nose had worsened and he trembled from being cold yet simultaneously overheated. His room was unusually messy, his clothes he’d worn the past few days was tossed around, he slept shirtless and there was an attempt to get tissue in the trashcan, but he wasn’t a basketball player. They were scattered lazily.

“But it’s only two finals, I don’t have any tomorrow or Friday,” He starts but you cut him off. “No, Luigi. I’m serious-” He pushes by you. “I’m fine, I just need to take my medicine for the morning.” You roll your eyes, following him into the other part of the dorm.

“Sit down.” You say firmly, you never use a really stern or somewhat harsh tone with him. You don’t like it. He glances at you as he stands awkwardly, shifting his tall figure. “But…”

“No, you heard me. Sit on the couch.”

He grumbles and finally sits on the small gray-colored couch, folding his arms like a toddler. You heat up water in a coffee maker and get the elderberry baggies for the tea he clearly hasn’t been drinking.

He’s been achy from doing so much, his body was tired. His back had been sore for a couple of weeks now and this cold didn’t help. You give him a blanket and bring him his laptop to watch TV on, then you set the mug on a coaster atop an inn table beside him. He feels a little defeated but he can’t deny he likes being tended to. Especially by you.

“There. Not so bad is it?” You question and he looks up at you innocently. What a stupid pretty boy. “Well, I’m not entirely against you taking care of me.” He flutters his long lashes. You chuckle and gently sit across from him. At this point in the relationship, you two never cared if the other was sick, he would lay with you, kiss you and care for you every time you were sick; even if it wasn’t solely an immune system sickness.

You pull him over into your embrace, he lays his head on your chest. His muscular arm tucks around you, making sure to pull up and share the throw blanket. He smiles and gazes up to you.

It’s cute seeing him with his beard growing out and rosy cheeks. Although you could do without the snotty and congested part; his feverish body kept you warm. You return with a cheeky grin and gently place a little kiss on his chapped lips. “You need some chapstick, Lu.” You murmured against them.

“I know. I lost the one I had.”

“How? You just bought it a couple weeks ago.”

“I don’t keep track of everything.”

You shake your head, tracing little patterns across his back with your fingertip. He leans over for a minute, sort of sitting up and lifts the mug with tea to take a big sip. His face contorts, you knew how funny elderberry tasted. It wasn’t the best. You laugh at his reaction, “That’s…disgusting.” He says quietly, “Yeah, but it helps.” He nodded, “Thanks for.. Helping me.” He lays his head down, burying his face in your chest once more.

“That’s what I’m here for. Next time you should really listen and rest.” He tilts his head back and itches his neck, “Yeah, yeah… You’re right. As always.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You say, eliciting laughter out of you both, before you let out a hefty sneeze. “Bless you.” Luigi says, reaching up to brush hair from your head. His thumb traces down your cheek; you sneezed again, this time it inflicted an immediate headache. Great.

He knew the inevitable had caught you too. You give him an unamused look, Luigi grins and stares back up at you.

“Welcome to the club, sweetheart.”

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #free luigi #luigi x reader #free luigi mangione #luigimangionefanfic #luigi mangione imagine

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lovetei · 2 years ago

Note

Heyyy,

I saw your toxic things the demon bros will do to keep you with them and i absolutely fell in love with. More of, my mental health issues felll in love with- ANYGAYSzz

I was wondering if you could maybe do the same for the side characters¿¿¿¿

Also did you drink water today? Cuz if thats a no here you go 💧💧💧💧

And some cookies just incase 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Love anonymous 👑

I'm not actually supposed to post anything for tonight, because I don't know? I didn't get to start anything this morning so I crammed this post T_T

But love lots! Hope you enjoy this piece ^^

But seriously, I was like "Oh shit, the algorithm I don't have!" And proceed to finish this.

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

What are the most toxic thing they will do in a relationship just to make you stay with them?

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Manipulation, yandere themes, execution, mention of torture, psychological torture, love potions, Mentions of murder, framing, alcohol

Links: Masterlist

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

DIAVOLO will use his authority

He's already so happy to have you by his side

And by staying there you already secured the position of the next ruler that will stand beside him

So, why do you have to leave..?

And the reasons

"I'm not fit enough..."

"I don't deserve this much..!"

"There are more people out there that are more worthy than me..."

Won't cut it.

He knows your worth and he's sure you do too.

So why?

Perhaps you're just nervous that you won't be able to match his grace?

You don't need to.

His grace is unmatched among the demons and yours is too among the mortals.

You both are on the same chapter, just on different pages.

So why make things hard for yourself?!

All you need to do is say yes and everything will be taken care of.

Clothes, food, money, status, security and literally anything.

He loves you and you does too so it's not going to be a marriage with no love...

SO WHY?

You're starting to drive him insane, MC.

And he might just do the same to you

So he'll invite you over for a fancy dinner and a few drinks

You accepted, despite knowing that Diavolo might try something after he got you drunk

Thinking that Diavolo forgot that you can't get drunk by just a basic demonus

Fool

That's what you are for thinking Diavolo actually misses something, anything about you

So he changed the bottle of demonus to an actual human liquor but neutralized it's taste by the help of his one, loyal servant

Barbatos

Not even two hour passed by and you're already putty in his hands

Dancing just like how he wants it on his palms

Then he'll slide a paper into the table to you, together with a beautiful pen

He then point at an empty line with his finger and said "Look at that MC, this line right here wants your signature."

"Hmm, why?~"

"Because it's such a huge fan of you and it needs you to become something, someone better, so why don't you give it a sign?" Is what he said while smirking.

And there you are, signing the papers while your mind is clouded with alcohol

Oh what is it?

Just a marriage contract

You don't want it?

Look into rules and regulations, Claus 5

It's against your human rights?

How foolish, you're not in the human world.

You will tell the whole Devildom about it?

Lèse majesté

And what's the punishment for committing that? Simple.

Death.

BARBATOS and his timeline power

He loves you

So much actually

At first, it was fun to be in a relationship with him

It's fun, slowly opening him up like a present and seeing the gift, a part of him that only you know.

He builds up trust for you and so do you for him

Then it started to get suffocating

He won't admit it openly but you know,

You know that the one who kills anyone who dared act close with you is him

And it terrifies you

You may allow it if it actually harms you, severely

But it's not for your protection anymore

He's doing it out of pure annoyance now

He doesn't like you around the brothers

The angels

Solomon

Thirteen

Or even Lord Diavolo

In fact, he doesn't want you around anyone.

And it's making you feel more unsafe

He's starting to isolate you from everyone and everything

He's trying to isolate you from the world

So you decided to end things with him

And he doesn't seem to take it lightly like how you expected...

How did you know?

Simple.

You woke up weeks before that break up happened

You know how it happened and you know who made it happen

It's none other than your boyfriend of course

You thought that maybe if you talk nicely with him he'll actually understand the problem

But he didn't

He started to get more and more aggressive with you

Then when the week end

It repeats

And repeats

And repeats again

And again

But it will keep going on like that until you learn

Until you learn that there's no other option than him

No other ending than him

He doesn't mind driving you crazy if it means you'll continue to love him

So good luck, MC.

SIMEON might just ask Father for help

Ho doesn't understand!

Why would you want to break up with him?!

He did everything, MC!

It's not clear!

Nothing is clear!

You just belive that you two are not fit together..?

You don't want him to end up like Lilith..?

He doesn't care!

He'll burn these precious, white wings for you!

He'll kill for you!

He'd actually prefer to end up like Lilith rather than this!

Because, at least, Lilith managed to be with her love until her life ended...

He'd rather be a demon or a human rather then live like the adored angel he is without you...

...

You'll still leave huh?

Alright then.

I guess he has no choice but to ask Father for help

What do you mean it will cause him to fall? Oh dear, it won't.

It might actually even promote him into a higher rank.

Father wants you in his side.

In fact, the whole celestial realm want you on this side

So when he asked "Father, it seems that we need to take even larger measure to have MC side with us. What do you think we can do?"

...oh?

Luke?

What a brilliant plan.

Now,

Let's see if you can still leave knowing an innocent life, Luke, will be put under danger because of this tantrum,

Because of you.

SOLOMON and his hidden antics

Oh dear, angel

His little devil

His most prized possession

His favorite concubine,

You won't be leaving him anytime soon, dear.

When you told him that "I want to break up with you."

He kept himself quite for a while before answering "Let me give it some thought, MC. For now, stay with me."

And just as he expected you listened obediently.

But then, his grip around your waits became more rough

And the hand he used to playfully wrap around your neck became more tight

It's hard...

It's hard to feed you his love laced cooking

But he found out that you just loves, adored even, Luke's baked cookies...

And since you're a human, he knows that Luke creates special cookies just for you

One that don't contain exotic ingredients that will upset your stomach

And it just made the work of latching love potions easier for him

He'll just add a few drops and it will do the magic for him

So, all he has to do sit tight

And wait for you to crawl back to his lap yourself.

RAPHAEL will use spears for example

Haha...

But he loves you, MC..?

He might just start crying if you say more

"Sure... But I'll make sure you'll come back to me..!"

At first, it sounded like a joke and it's funny enough to make you giggle

The beautiful memories of peaceful separation didn't last long after you saw a dead body pinned by spears though

His spears, to be specific

It doesn't even make sense

You don't even know this guy...

He hasn't talk to you and you don't even know him

Hell, you don't even recognize his face...

So what's the catch?

Why is he killing completely random people...

That's what have been running around your mind

You haven't seen him around RAD anymore

And if you do he refuse to answer your questions

Except his face will lightly flush and he'll even smile a little before sa say "Ah~ It's nice hearing your voice..."

His tone, the way he says it, none of theme are innocent

And he made it known that he knows what he's doing

The curiosity didn't last long

Until you found out that the corpses aren't for you from him as a threat

It was for the families of the victims

You found out that each of them have high power among the nobilities of Devildom

And he killed them to make the families think that you're telling him to do so

It's not to make you feel guilty, it for them to start attacking you

Until you're pushed back to a corner where no one else can save you

Except for him.

MEPHISTOPHELES's way only

Ha...

Man he loves you so much...

But all he do is stare at you blankly after you told him you ant to break up

Staring at you like you're just some kid throwing a tantrum

It's Mephistopheles in front of you, I mean, he's rich, handsome, tall, smart and has good family background

If he's a human everybody would have gone crazy over him already

Plus he wears heels and he has a sexy cane

What more could you ask for?

But yeah...

You don't want to be with him forever?

Sure, he'll talk to Diavolo.

"I'll buy MC's contract and I'll put them under my wing." Is all the reason he needs to say and a few more to have Diavolo selling you

What about your family?

This amount will do right?

I mean...

He paid for what your worth so don't expect it to be much.

Anyways, you're his now

By the eyes of the law, money and his

He'll never let you get away?

And if you did try to?

He'll simply frame you for treason and let's see if you won't come crawling back to him

After finding out that he can choose what type of punishment, torture method, to give you.

But don't worry.

He likes the game cat and mouse

He don't like playing it for a long time though

So be careful

His patience isn't as long as the line of money and connection ahead of him

THIRTEEN basically holds your life

Break up?

"You're not." Is all she said as she holds your candle

She's grinning widely as she let your candle melt, its 's wax falling directly in her hands

"Why would you even want to?" She asked even though she knows, no reason can separate the two of you

And if you did say "I don't care." as she holds you candle

She might just accidentally extinguish one of your loved ones candles

So be careful, MC.

Among everyone

She's the only one who won't joke around.

And just so you know

Her patience is shorter than the amount of time it requires to kill someone's fire off of their candle.

#obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me Diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me Raphael #obey me Mephistopheles #obey me thirteen #obey me yandere

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gmasttin · 2 months ago

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Really Good, Actually | Kylian Mbappé fic

| Summary: A Madrid-based creative unexpectedly finds herself leading the rebranding of Kylian Mbappé. Between cold coffees, impossible deadlines, and tense creative sessions, something more than just a campaign begins to take shape. An ironic, intimate, and emotionally sharp story about the chaos of feeling alive just when you thought you were only surviving.

| 3.8k words

| You can read Chapter 1 here

| A/n: I hope you all like it!! If you have any recommendations or thoughts, I'd be super grateful to hear and read them. Thanks 🤍

Chapter 2

The subway smells like rushed humanity and failed deodorant. It’s 8:13 a.m., and you’ve already received two notifications that changed your mood. Well, just one really, the other one was from the bank, and honestly, you weren’t expecting better. The important one, the one gnawing at you as you sway with every jerky stop of the train, is the one you saw at 7:22, just after waking up, one eye open and the other still lost in limbo: Louis liked one of your photos.

But not a recent one.

An old one. A very old one. One of those buried deep in your feed like geological layers of a past life. A photo where you’re smiling without thinking too much, wearing a T-shirt you no longer own, and a kind of innocence you can’t quite get back. You posted it years ago. Literally. Back when you still believed love was enough, that people didn’t just leave, and that you could trust what you saw.

And he saw it. Today.

You ask yourself why. Why today, why that photo. Was he reminiscing? Was it a scroll accident? Is he trying to say something without actually saying it? Or was it just algorithmic cruelty?

But you feel it. Like a pinch in your stomach. Like one of those wounds that seem healed until something brushes against them.

He was the one who broke everything. The one who broke you. And still, with one absurd gesture, a like, he can throw you off completely. As if that validation, even empty, still had power over you. As if it said, “I’m still here. You’re still in my head. And I’m in yours.”

Even though you know it shouldn’t mean anything. Even though you repeat it to yourself like a mantra. Even though you’re embarrassed, it gets to you. Because it does. Because part of you, the part you thought you’d outgrown, wonders if now’s the moment he regrets it. If now’s the moment, he looks back and realizes what he lost.

You climb the station stairs with that blend of contained rage and a kind of sadness you’d rather not admit. The city is fully awake, and all you want is to step into a café and order coffee under a name that isn’t yours, as if that alone could change your identity and your life. But no. You go to the office. Because you’re an adult. And because you have meetings.

The glass door of the agency opens with that passive-aggressive beep that always makes you feel judged. Marta, the one from HR, greets you with a smile far too awake to be human at this hour. You give her a vague nod and keep walking toward the kitchen, desperate for your dose of institutional caffeine.

By the time you finally make it to your desk, the usual one, the corner spot with the dead plant, you notice a new post-it stuck to your screen. Different color. Pink. Cramped handwriting. It’s from Lucía.

“AFTER A WEEK!!!! He’s coming today. Put on some dignity.”

You read it three times. Sigh. According to Lucía, dignity is a mix of concealer, wrinkle-free jeans, and not checking your phone every three minutes to see how much longer you have to survive in this place.

Lucía appears at your side like you just summoned her with your thoughts.

“How do you know he’s coming?” you ask, dropping your bag on the chair.

“Marta said so. Apparently, the Scandinavian room is booked again. And you know that room’s only used for million-dollar clients… or your little creative encounters.”

You stay quiet. She squints at you, eyes sharpening.

“You’re acting weird today. And don’t tell me it’s about the bank. That’s not the face of someone with an overdraft. That’s the face of unfinished business.”

“It’s nothing,” you reply, unconvincingly.

“Right. Like when you said you weren’t stalking him anymore, and I caught you scrolling through the baby shower guest list.”

“Lucía…”

“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. But if you need my metro card to disappear for a few hours, blink twice.”

Before you can respond, Guillermo shows up, carrying a steaming mug and the kind of energy that definitely doesn’t belong on this planet.

“Ladies, there are donuts in the kitchen. But only the ugly ones. José Luis took the good ones. That man knows how to get on my nerves.”

“Good morning, Guillermo,” says Lucía, trying to keep her train of thought intact despite the interruption.

“I’m feeling especially philosophical today. I dreamed my neighbor, the one who sells stolen bikes, told me he needed a branding strategy. Should I be concerned?”

“Only if he asks for a brief and a deadline,” you reply without thinking.

“Done. The brief was: ‘Reposition shady-looking bikes as narrative-driven, sustainability-focused artifacts.’ Deadline: tomorrow, before the cops show up. Should I be worried or find him a packaging designer?”

“I’m registering that before you finish the sentence,” says Lucía with a grin.

“Oh! By the way,” Guillermo calls out as he walks off, “we should totally do a Crazy Ideas Night. Tonight. Wine and pizza. I’ll bring the Spotify playlist.”

“You just want someone to let you use the disco ball again,” Lucía yells after him.

And even though the moment dissolves into jokes and sarcasm, your eyes drift back to the pink post-it. “Put on some dignity.”

Like that’s something you can just throw on. Like it’s something you can fake. Like a single “like” hadn’t already shaken your whole balance.

And then, he walks in.

No warning. No ceremony. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to walk across the office with that calm stride, like someone who never has to ask permission to take up space.

He’s wearing a gray hoodie, the kind that looks stupid expensive despite not having a single logo, and a black cap worn just wrong enough to suggest he’s trying to go unnoticed… but not really.

He catches you off guard, right as you’re trying to remember if you actually put on mascara this morning or just dreamed you did.

Lucía spots him before you do. She nudges you and raises an eyebrow with the precision of someone who’s clearly rehearsed that move her entire life.

“Morning,” he says, like he just walked into a library, not an office where 70% of screens are currently in pretend-to-work mode.

“You don’t have a home, do you?” you reply without looking up from your keyboard, your tone hovering somewhere between light irony and unintentional self-defense.

You’re not sure if you want him to stay or disappear. But what you do know is that if you don’t keep a straight face, Lucía will run a full emotional Excel report on you by lunch.

He laughs. And sits. In the same chair as the other day. Like it already belongs to him.

From the back of the office, Guillermo pauses mid-sip, his mug frozen halfway to his lips, like his brain needs a couple of seconds to process that actual Kylian Mbappé just walked in. Then he nods, like approving his presence, and wanders off, mumbling something about adjusting the playlist to “set the right creative mood.”

Lucía stands up, grabs her folder of important things (which is probably empty), and announces: “I’ve seen enough for today. I’m going to print documents I absolutely do not need.”

She shoots you a look that basically says, “don’t mess this up,” and exits the scene like a seasoned side character who knows the main act is just getting started.

From two desks over, right next to the printer that’s been broken for over a year, Lucía turns and opens her eyes wide like she’s just watched a trailer for her favorite show. She puts a hand over her mouth, dramatically, like she’s witnessing a live spoiler. Then she looks straight at you. And even though she doesn’t say a word, you can basically hear it scream: drama.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, leaning toward your screen.

His voice is softer than yesterday’s. Or maybe you’re softer today. Or just dumber.

You show him the script outline.

“I’ve got a few possible directions. We could go with the ‘hero’s journey’, that’s the angle your PR team sent over. Or something a bit more… personal. More introspective.”

“And what do you prefer?”

“I lean toward the second. It tends to bring people closer. And if that’s the main goal your team’s aiming for, I’d probably frame it that way. I’m more used to… the broken stuff.”

You realize way too late what you just said. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. He just nods, like it makes perfect sense.

“Can I ask you something?” he says after a quiet minute.

“I’m not an Atlético fan.”

“That’s not what I was going to—”

“Just in case.”

He grins.

There’s a pause. He taps his fingers against the desk, like he’s debating whether or not to ask. The silence is brief. Comfortable. Strange. And then:

“Did you always know you wanted to do this?”

You look at him. There’s something about his tone. Genuine curiosity. No irony at all.

“No, I wanted to be an actress. But I have issues with cameras. And with being seen. Especially the more intimate scenes, I used to cringe just watching them, so imagine having to perform them. And then have your whole family watch.”

“Funny. Now you write the words other people say.”

“Exactly. It’s like acting, just without the face and the physical effort.”

He laughs. A real one. Imperfect, kind of uneven. And something sharp twists inside you. Like a tiny crack in your emotional armor. Almost beautiful.

By 10:45, you’ve already gone through half the script and debated the best way to portray his childhood without making it look like a life insurance commercial.

He’s shared things. Small things. Like how he hated almost all food except pasta and fries. How his nanny tried to make him a diehard AC Milan fan. How he collects jerseys from clubs that don’t exist anymore.

None of it is directly useful for the documentary. But you write it all down anyway.

There’s something about the way he tells it—calm, unbothered, mentioning the seemingly irrelevant stuff with a kind of ease that makes you think that’s where the truth lives. You don’t know if those details make him more human, or if you’re just projecting. But still, you keep them. You take notes. As if you could come back to them later. Like they’re clues.

Lucía appears with printer-related excuses and lingers way longer than necessary. You glance at her. She smiles back, like a seasoned guilty party who’s not even trying to hide it.

As she's leaving, Kylian says:

“Is she always that invested in your life?”

“Only when she smells blood.”

“And do you think there’s blood?”

You look at him. You’re about to say something sarcastic. But you can’t. Because you don’t know what’s really there. All you know is that it’s getting harder to focus when he’s too close.

“I think there’s something. But it’s not mine. It belongs to the project,” you say at last, without looking at him. Though truthfully, you’re not sure if that’s a lie. Or just your attempt to protect something you don’t fully understand yet. You feel like if you do look at him, the lie will dissolve. And you’re not ready for him to see that.

“Right. The project.”

And for some reason, you both smile.

Kylian looks back at the screen in silence. Moves the mouse slightly, as if needing to confirm that all of it, the graphs, the dates, the digital post-its, is real.

“Do you think this actually works?” he asks suddenly.

“This?”

“The strategy. The storytelling. The black-and-white photos like I’m some forgotten relic from the last century. Do people actually connect with that?”

“It depends. If it’s done right, yes. If it feels forced, it ends up like a perfume ad with motivational quotes.”

He smiles.

“And mine? Does it feel forced?”

“Not yet,” you answer, more honestly than you expected. “But that’s also because we haven’t finished it. It’s still… in the containment phase.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s honest.”

You’re surprised at how these types of conversations, so supposedly technical, can feel so personal when it’s him having them with you. Like the project is just an excuse. A shared language that lets you both say things without really saying them.

He stays quiet a few seconds longer, eyes still on the screen like the production timeline might whisper some kind of life-changing truth. Then he stretches back in his chair and says:

“Do you have lunch plans?”

He says it with the ease of someone asking what day it is. But to you, it feels like he just opened a locked door inside your chest. You look up and blink.

“Are you asking because you want to invite me, or because you’re trying to avoid the corner café?”

“Both.”

You pause, for the drama of it. But you already know you’re going to say yes.

“Only if you pick the place. But no trendy food. And nothing with foam on things that aren’t supposed to have foam.”

“Deal.”

You end up at a tiny spot two blocks away. One of those nameless places that survives purely through word of mouth. It smells like real bread. And the waiters don’t fake being nice. You love it.

You sit at a table by the window, and as you take off your jacket, you feel like you’ve stepped into some kind of parallel bubble. He settles in like he’s not internationally famous. And, miraculously, no one seems to recognize him. Or if they do, they’re doing a fantastic job pretending not to.

They talk about football. About campaigns. About how the hardest part sometimes isn’t showing who you are, but actually knowing it. He listens more than you expected. And you talk more than you probably should.

At some point, he says:

“I don’t know if I really want people to know the real me. Because sometimes I don’t even know who I am outside all this, after everything I went through to get here.”

You don’t answer. You just look at him and nod. Because that, exactly that, is something you understand far too well.

“Have you always known who you are?” he asks, mid-bite.

“Have you always known how to run that fast without losing a shoe?”

“That’s not the same.”

“It kind of is,” you say. “We both learned something that helped us become who we are.”

He looks down for a second. Like he wasn’t expecting that answer. Like you just got a little too close without meaning to.

“Sometimes it feels like the last few years I’ve been living for other people. Coaches, brands, managers, the press. And I just… went along with it. Because it was easier than saying no.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m trying to figure out if anything about who I am still belongs to me.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to drop some cheap self-help line, or worse, sound patronizing. So you just say:

“Maybe it’s not about reinventing yourself from scratch. Maybe it’s just about choosing which parts you actually want to keep.”

The rest of lunch flows in quiet pauses and half-finished sentences. He tells you about his first training sessions now in Madrid, how much he hated waking up early, and a coach who used Shakespeare metaphors to explain defensive tactics. You tell him how you started in advertising writing copy for yogurt brands promising “inner balance.”

When you both return to the office, there’s a moment when you stop in front of the elevator. The silence stretches slightly, like neither of you knows whether to say something more or let everything already said hang there.

Then he says:

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For talking to me like I’m not… all this.”

“How do you know I’m not faking it?”

He smiles.

“Because it shows when you’re not.”

Lucía sees you walk in together. With the look of someone who’s been observing everything from another dimension. She doesn’t say a word—but sends you a Teams message that simply reads:

“Told you. Drama.”

Followed by a few work-related messages… to keep up appearances.

The workday doesn’t stretch much further. After lunch, he stays for a couple more hours, but the vibe shifts. More people. More noise. More emails with “urgent” in the subject line that aren’t actually urgent.

You try to focus. You open an Excel tab with the conviction of someone taking a solemn productivity oath. But he’s still there. Right next to you. Reading things on his phone, occasionally jotting something down in a notebook that looks more expensive than your entire desk setup.

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, standing up like the air around him just got heavier.

You nod, even though you didn’t realize you were waiting for him to leave until he said it. Not because you want him to go. But because you honestly don’t know what you’d do if he stayed any longer.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, slinging readjusting his watch on his wrist.

“Depends,” you reply, eyes still on the keyboard. “Are you planning on pretending you work here again?”

“I’m considering asking for a permanent desk,” he says, deadpan.

“You can have it. The plant gave up on us months ago.”

He leaves. With that half-smile you can’t quite decode, somewhere between shy and cocky. And you watch him until the door closes. Like he’s taking a little bit of light with him on the way out.

The rest of the afternoon fades into soulless emails and half-finished tasks. You don’t talk much. He’s already gone. And even though his chair is empty, his presence still lingers, maybe it’s the expensive cologne, still floating in the air around you, refusing to fade completely.

Today was a double shift kind of day. Because, lucky you, Kylian’s project isn’t the only one you're carrying this week. And a couple others need to be wrapped up before Friday.

At 6:53 p.m., Lucía messages you:

Lucía: “We’re going to this Italian place. You, me, and Guillermo. No excuses.”

You reply with a tired face emoji and an “okey mamá,”, because honestly, you don’t have the energy to pretend you had other plans.

You all leave the office when it’s just the interns and the maintenance guy left. The walk is quiet. Guillermo is telling a story about his nudist neighbor trying to grow tomatoes in the shared planters. You only catch bits of it, but you’re grateful for the absurdity.

You arrive at a small restaurant. Warm lights. Smells like oregano and something comforting. Lucía sits down like it’s her living room. Guillermo orders wine like he knows what he’s talking about, and asks if they have gluten-free options, even though he’s not gluten intolerant. You just want something hot. Simple. No tricks.

“So… are you going to fall for him or for the project first?” Lucía asks, the second her butt hits the chair.

“Neither,” you reply, giving yourself zero time to consider the answer.

“Uh-huh. That’s exactly the kind of thing someone says when they’re already in trouble.”

“Are you saying I’m already in trouble?”

“I’m saying I’ve seen that look before. You had it when we talked about Louis. Right before you two started whatever-that-was and he screwed it up.”

“Can we not mention him tonight?”

“Only if you say please and let me try your pizza.”

You sigh. But when it arrives, you hand her your plate.

Guillermo, blissfully unaware of the emotional subtext, is deep in conversation with the waiter about optimal wine temperature.

“What if we made a playlist for Kylian’s project?” he says suddenly, turning toward you. “Something he can listen to while going over the script. Mood-setting. With international flow.”

“‘Mood-setting with international flow’?” you repeat.

“It’s a technical term. I learned it on TikTok.”

Lucía laughs. You do too. And for a second, just a second, the day feels like just that: a day. Not an emotional whirlwind wrapped in post-its and half-laughed feelings.

You walk home alone. It’s cold, but you’ve forgotten how to feel it.

You walk without music, without Lucía’s voice filling the silence with romantic theories. Just the sound of the city dimming and your thoughts, reactivating like they’d been waiting for exactly this moment to be heard.

You wait at a red light, and, after that, for some reason, you try to open the door to a building that isn’t yours. Out of habit. Because you used to live there. Or maybe because your brain decided this was the perfect moment to make you look like a fugitive from your own present.

And as if that wasn’t enough, just when you think the weirdness is over, a pigeon bursts into flight half a meter from you, giving you the most humiliating scare of the day. You duck, let out a tiny shriek, and an old man in a cap says:

“Don’t worry. Happens to me with the parakeets. Louder, but less sneaky.”

You smile. Because honestly, you’re not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or if he’s one of those bird-conspiracy folks now filling the city with signs that birds aren’t real.

You walk home, going over things you didn’t say. To him. To yourself. Things you might’ve felt, but filed away in that mental drawer where you keep everything you’re not ready to process yet.

You walk with your hands in your jacket pockets and your mind as messy as your desk. You wonder if dinner was a good idea. If opening up even a little was a good idea. If letting someone see that part of you, the one you usually hide behind deadlines and well-placed words, was smart at all.

Tomorrow is another day. Another round. Another empty chair that might not be empty. And though you won’t admit it, part of you hopes it won’t be.

When you get home, you drop onto the couch without taking off your makeup. You open Instagram, your nightly routine, and see Louis has posted a story.

You don’t watch it. But you see it. That mental trap where just the sight of the pink circle sends your heart into a tiny panic.

You wonder if it’s his dog. His dinner. His daughter.

You force yourself to close the app. You glance at your laptop. You wonder if you should keep working, get ahead, jot down some ideas for the script.

But no. Not tonight.

Tonight, you just want to sleep without thinking about anything.

Not Louis. Not Kylian. Not open endings or questions disguised as creative meetings.

But you know that tomorrow, inevitably, it will all come back. The pink post-it. The possibly-occupied chair. And that tiny crack that, without you noticing, keeps getting wider.

#kylian mbappe #kylian x you #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #mbappe #mbappe x reader #mbappé #mbappe smut #k. mbappe #mbappe x you #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe smut #football x y/n #football x reader

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ultred · 3 months ago

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if your sp is not treating you the way you want to be treated, i beg of you, please, do not argue with them and send those damn paragraphs and pitiful text messages. 🙏 i promise you, no amount of “you should treat me better” will change anything. if you truly think you deserve better, you’ll just leave that mf or not care that much about that version of them but you’re still here. still arguing with them. still trying so hard while they keep doing the same shit over and over. obviously they will not take you seriously because you do NOT take yourself seriously. eiypo ? right ? why is it that when you’re in an undesirable situation, you completely forget that. here is the thing, the more you react to something in the 3d, the more it will show up. it’s exactly like an algorithm. the more you interact with certain topics, the more they’ll show up to you. whether positive or negative, it doesn’t matter. the algorithm doesn’t know the difference. it just gives you what you interact with. what you accept. what you choose to be aware of over and over. for a second, say, fuck that sp. i choose myself. i choose to have the best version of anyone because i deserve the best treatment. ask yourself, do people who TRULY believe that they deserve the best treatment and get everything they want in life sit anxiously on their phone waiting for someone to treat them well, begging them while crying on the floor to give them what they deserve ? send those text messages ? waste their energy writing those paragraphs ? hell no. so, why can’t you be like that too ? what makes them more special than you ? what makes them more worthy than you ? it’s just a matter of how you view yourself and others and what you select to experience. that’s it. you want to get what you want ? understand the law and stop going against it. stop doing what everyone is telling you not to do. i don’t care. if you feel the urge to react or argue with them, have the self-discipline to not do that. you can do anything else. cry. let it all out. do something you enjoy. do breath work. meditate. go to the gym. do pushups. do a cartwheel on a table. do absolutely anything but NEVER lower your value or self-esteem for anyone !! never beg anyone for anything. never tell anyone how to treat you. never ASK for ANYTHING from anyone. you do not ask for what you are worth, it simply just comes to you because it is YOURS. here is what i do. when people in my life are pissing me off, i close the lights in my room, lay down on my bed, put on my airpods, open youtube, listen to self concept vids from my favorite manifestation coaches as reminders or neville goddard’s audiobooks (listen to whatever you want, that’s just what works for me), say fuck the 3d it is not real, and completely live in my imagination as if it’s already actually happening. and guess what, that never fails to work. it always works because yes, imagination is the true reality. i want y’all to become so lazy and careless that you don’t care about reacting to the 3d anymore. stop putting so much effort. stop wasting your energy. stop doing too much. they will never change if you keep on selecting and reacting to their bullshit over and over. they’ll “change,” once your inner world does. once you finally accept that nothing out there matters. just you, how you react, and what you select to experience in imagination.

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the-most-humble-blog · 20 days ago

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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta consciousness-integrity="corrupted"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="REALITY_FAILURE::PERCEPTUAL_LOOP_COLLAPSE" EFFECT: derealization, sleep-anomaly recall, metaphysical panic </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “SORRY TO BE A BUZZKILL… BUT WHAT IF YOU DON’T EXIST?”

===

Sorry to be a buzzkill again. But you know me. Mr. Humble doesn’t show up to rub your tummy. I show up to slice through your delusions like they owe me rent.

And today’s delusion?

“Of course I exist.” “Of course this is real.” “Of course this isn’t just a dream that’s outlived the sleeper.”

Yeah? Prove it.

—

Here’s the thing:

This world doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t exist. Not like this. Not with these constants. Not with this precision.

Do you understand the probability of YOU even having a working cell membrane based on the atomic conditions required?

And yet— you eat pizza rolls and doomscroll through algorithms like any of this is normal.

What if I told you this wasn’t real?

Not in the Hollywood "we’re in a computer" kind of way. But in the you might just be a memory living through its own echo without knowing it’s over kind of way.

—

What if you’re just… a past self, replaying itself. A loop. A snapshot of a soul. Running the tape back with perfect illusion that it’s all happening now.

You wouldn’t know. Because the loop contains all your memories.

—

“Preposterous,” you say? “I think, therefore I am,” you say?

Your brain can’t even comprehend true eternity.

Tell me what happened before the first Big Bang. Now tell me what triggered it. Now tell me how many came before that.

Now tell me what came before that.

See? You don’t know. You assume. You build certainty atop vapor and call it science.

But you can’t even stay awake for five days without descending into hallucinated hell.

📉 STAT: Sleep deprivation causes visual and auditory hallucinations within 72-120 hours.

📉 Another STAT: Subjects deprived of sleep begin confusing dream logic with waking cognition.

📉 Another Fcking Creepy STAT: Witnesses in close proximity to the sleep-deprived sometimes report shared delusions.

Yeah. Let that part marinate.

Imagine seeing "things" and hearing voices just by being in close proximity to that person.

There are actually people who’ve claimed to have stayed awake long enough to break the lock on this plane of perception.

And when they did?

Others around them saw it too. External to them. Realer than dreams. Louder than reason.

—

So what if this isn’t “your life”? What if this is just the last thing you saw before you ceased to be?

And your brain’s just looping on the ride out. Endlessly. Forever. Believing it’s linear. Believing it’s new.

But it’s not. It’s a cassette tape in a godless VCR stuck on repeat.

—

You think your memories mean this is real? That just makes it a better simulation.

You think other people validate your sentience? You can’t even prove anyone else is conscious. All you can do is hope they’re not just projections designed to hold your delusion together.

NPCs that glitch in just enough nuance to seem alive but never go deeper than the script allows.

Ever try to REALLY wake someone up in a dream? They look scared. Or blurry. Or they disappear.

—

So… what if this is that dream? The one where your “reality” is scripted, pre-loaded, and ready-made the moment you look for it.

What if the moon only exists when you think about it?

What if your dog has no soul but your memory of him keeps him real?

What if you’re not moving forward but instead falling backward through every version of yourself you’ve ever believed in?

—

You wouldn’t know. Because the illusion is complete. It has your memories. Your traumas. Your dreams.

But all of it? Could’ve been injected. A second ago. Last week. Last eternity.

You say you were born?

Who told you that? Your mom? How do you know she’s not part of the set?

You say you slept last night?

How do you know that wasn’t the real world and THIS is the dream you haven’t woken from?

You say “of course I’m real”?

Then why do you panic when it gets too quiet? Why does 3:17 AM feel like a haunted mirror?

Why can’t you remember what it felt like to be born?

Why are you so scared of being alone with no notifications no updates no attention?

Because if this falls apart, so do you.

—

Anyway.

Have a good night. Sleep tight. And if you wake up tomorrow with no memory of this post— or too much memory of it— then maybe just maybe

You already existed… long enough to forget that you didn’t.

🧠 Read more respect-coded doctrine and emotional architecture at: 👉 https://www.patreon.com/TheMostHumble 🛡️ Masculine polarity. Scrolltrap psychology. Unforgiven words. 🚪 Warning: This post has disrupted timelines, interrupted dreams, and triggered silent breakdowns at 2:43 AM.

</div>

#blacksite literature™#scrolltrap #existential horror #you might not exist #reality loop #cosmic dread #dream theory #metaphysical breakdown #what is real #philosophical collapse #you’ve already died #your memory is playing #scrolltrap therapy #patreon paradox #emotional dissociation #consciousness glitch #you were never born #ontological dissonance #the most humble

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cosmickid-inmotion · 6 months ago

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"If I'm Being Honest" Lie #1: "I don't like you."

An Omegaverse/romcom enemies to lovers idiots in love slowburn found family type shit. graphic design is my passion themed header is a little more intional this time but lord knows i can't edit XD

Alpha!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: If Logan is being honest, he didn't like you. If you were being honest, you didn't either. But, if you were both being honest, you were exactly what you needed.

Warnings: Currently nothing? Will update as I go, but everyone's canon trauma is liable to be discussed.

A/n: I have built a reputation on here for series that are very serious, that deal with themes of severe depression, sexual assault, abuse, etc. I wanted to try my hand at something new, something lighthearted. the Omegaverse stuff won't have a HUGE part in it, it's just another aspect I wanted to add. As i wrote it, I realized it has a romcom vibe, so that's what I'm leaning into. I want to have fun with this! i write so much heavy stuff, a little change is nice. thank you so much to @xdaddysprincessxx for encouraging me to venture out, ily.

1.7k words

Reblogs are the only way to really spread works here, tumblr does not have an algorithm. Every single like is loved and appreciated, comments mean the whole world and keep me writing, but reblogs are how we share on here and create community.

Support artists, reblog works.

Multiple alternating POVs

***

If Logan was being honest, in the moment he just wanted to fuck you. Years later, to other more romantic types like Remy or Kurt, he would say it was love at first sight. He wouldn't say you were being a bit of a cunt, and the comment on his hair was unnecessary.

If you were being honest, wanted him to leave you alone, and were thankful he did. Later, to Remy and Kurt, you would say that you secretly wished he’d try again, although Logan wasn’t the type to linger where he wasn’t wanted. You say it was love at first sight, although if you were being honest, you thought his leather jacket was too wanna be James Dean, and his hair looked stupid.

When Logan saw you in that bar, the bit-too crowded one that was the only spot he could go to where they didn’t recognize him from the mutant school 50 miles away, he thought, Well, she’ll do.

Jean had chosen Scott, and Logan wasn’t going to just sit around the mansion moping all day. Even if he still harboured feelings, he wanted her to be happy, and frankly, he wanted Scott to be too. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was just married to the woman Logan loved. And was rather annoying. But again, not bad.

Logan just needed a nice, wet hole to sink into, and you were more than attractive enough for his tastes. Stunning, even, and just a little bit terrifying. You were a beta; he could smell the lack of alpha or omega pheromones, and you were devoid of either. All the better, omegas were so… clingy.

You, on the other hand, cursed yourself when you accidentally caught his eyes. Great. You think to yourself. Now he probably thinks you’re staring.

You weren’t! Not at that moment, anyway. If you were being honest, after he took the hint and went on his way, you did take a few glances for the ole spank bank. No harm no foul.

“Hey.” The man said as he leaned against the bar counter, and you snort through your nose.

“Really? That's the best you got?” You make a twirling motion with your finger. “Turn around, try again.”

He makes a funny face, but turns around anyway. When he faces you again, he doesn’t lean on the counter but rather takes a seat. “Uh. Hello?”

You facepalm, laughing. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The man takes the laughter in stride. “Yeah, not my best work. Can I at least buy you a drink?”

Another weak move. “You can, but I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Not deterred, he buys the next round. “Name’s James.” He gave you his hands and waited expectantly, but even though you shook it you dodged the name question hanging in the air.

“Sorry, buddy, I swore off Jimmy’s about 2 Jimmy’s ago.”

A slight frown, but nothing that seemed to indicate trouble. “Luckily, I’m not a Jimmy, I’m a James.”

“Okay.” You spoke almost patronizingly. “Never met a James that wore kitty ears, but okay.”

James looked like he was stewing on something, opened his mouth to retort an insult, but thought better of it. He attempted to smooth back the curls, but it didn’t work. He mumbled something about a cowlick before looking back at you as you laughed.

“You’re not playfully teasing me, are you?” it wasn’t a question.

“Nah, honey. I’m making fun of you.”

“Welp.” He slaps his hands on the bar counter, sitting up. It wasn’t an aggressive move, he meant it playful himself, but it still made you startle. “I can see where I’m not wanted. Keep the drink, sweetheart.” He winked, and left you alone.

Fuck, his pants were tight.

Logan moved on to talking up some girl that actually seemed interested, but if he were being honest, and he’d never admit this, but he kept looking back to you. As much as he wanted to get his dick wet and this new girl was pretty, he couldn’t get his mind off you. Logan was not rejected often. It wasn’t that his ego was bruised, okay maybe a little, but you were just so interesting. His senses were telling him he needed to notice something about you, but not trouble. He didn’t know what that meant, but the next time he looked over he saw a man making his move on you.

Good luck, bub. He thought to himself, then looked back at the cute girl. She seemed flexible. An omega, which meant he’d probably have to make an escape while she was sleeping, but she’d be eager to please. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good-

*CRASH!*

Annnnnnd there it was. Can’t have nothing nice. He stepped in front of the blonde, what was her name again?, and looked to scout out the situation just in time to see you clock a man in the jaw hard enough to send him back. Good job there, girlie. Logan didn’t want trouble, and you seemed to be handling it so he didn’t step in just yet… but out of nowhere came the guy's friend with a barstool and clocked it over your head.

“Hey!” Logan shouted, distracting the man enough as he was about to kick you a third time in the face. Just as he dove and took him down, Logan heard the crowd gasp. After knocking the buddy out, Logan looked up to see if the first man wanted a piece of him next, only to see him staring in shock.

You were blue. Your skin, your hair, and the sliver of your eyes he could see, all blue.

“MUTANT!” The fucking hillbilly shouts, and Logan isn’t an idiot. There’s trouble coming.

Without thinking, he scoops up your limp body and dashes you outside as men gather like an old timey mod.

He places you on the front of his bike, one strong arm holds you up and kicks the stand of the bike. Back to the mansion.

Another goddamn stray. Can’t keep them off me.

The gates opened as his bike rode up the twisted roads over half an hour later. Good thing the bike was registered to Scott, because if he got clocked speeding, it was bordering on reckless driving.

Despite being in a hurry, Logan made sure to kick the stand up after riding the bike right up to the steps. He didn’t want the engine flooded. Then whose bike would he steal?

Bursting into the entrance, he finds Scott in a blue and yellow button down PJ set, sleep mask on and arms crossed. “You have GOT to stop-” Then Scott see’s you, passed out, bloody faced, and blue bodied, and senses the urgency.

He grabs Logan, shoving him to get to the medbay ASAP. Logan could run much fastert than Scott, even with your weight, but Scott was behind him. “JEEAANNN!”. The yelling was more to get it out in his mind, no doubt communicating with her in there to get to the bed medbay, which was near their bedroom.

By the time Logan got there, Jean was already setting up. She was in a robe, forest green and silky, something Scott probably got for her, the thoughtful fuck. Annoyingly, it was long, covering up those legs. That was also probably intensional on Scott’s part. Jean was in boxers. Probably Scotts, and she liked to sleep in skimpy cami’s. On second thought, the gift was probably more Scott keeping her wrapped up considering how many times Jean gets called to the med bay in the middle of the night.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Logan half panicked. He didn’t actually know anything. “I don’t really know. I talked to her briefly at the bar but that’s it.”

Green eyes flashed up at him, then back down. Jean knew what he was doing. “Did you sleep with her yet?”

He didn’t really know why THAT was relevant.

“No, she rejected me too.” Well, that was a bit bitter. Logan corrected himself. Not the time. “Uh, fuck, she’s a mutant.”

Jean stopped, then dropped her shoulders as she deadpanned. “I couldn’t tell.” She could get a little snarky when under stress, so Logan let that roll off his back and she hooked you up to some monitors.

“She got into a bar fight, one guy hit her over the head with a stool, that's when she blacked out. Another kicked her face before I got there. One to the nose, one to the forehead.”

Jean nodded, this was the information she needed.

“Steal toed books by the looks of it, got her pretty good. Anything else?”

“She turned blue a little after passing out, and she’s a beta.”

She placed her hands over the woman's body. “She probably can hide her mutation if she’s conscious about it. Knocking her out took away that defense.”

Just then, Scott entered the room, finally catching up. You’d think with those long legs he’d be faster, but running isn't his strong suit. “How is she?”

“Stable, but I need one of you to put the gauze on her head, she’s still bleeding.” Scott found the materials needed and applied gentle pressure. “Heart rate is good, but she’s unconscious still. Logan how long has it been?”

“45 minutes maybe?”

She swears under her breath. “Well, that’s not great. Let me get into her head.” After a few minutes, she relaxes a little bit. “Okay. Not traumatic brain injury. It’s a moderate concussion. She’ll need some rest but she’ll be okay, it seems.”

“Any sign of a healing factor?” Scott asks, but Jean shakes her head.

“If it is, it’s nothing like yours,” She nods to Logan. “or even Remy. Or like Remy, she needs to be conscious about it.” Jean put down her hands. “There’s not much I can do right now. It’s best to let her wake up naturally, unless this goes longer than a day. I’ll keep monitering-”

Your eyes flashed open, blue and glowing lightly, gasping a little for breath. When you saw Logan and Scott of one side of the bed, the confusion grew to panic. “Shit!” You try to roll off the bed, away from them, but are either too out of it still or too tied up in monitors to make it far. You fall, and Jean catches you. Logan moved to go to you, but Scott held him back. Logan didn’t know why

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you’re safe here.” You calm more after seeing her, letting Jean sit you down.

When you look up at Scott and Logan again, you lock eyes with the older man. To their surprise, you roll your eyes, “Oh great. This fucking guy again.”

If Logan was being honest, he didn’t like you very much.

**********

thank you so so much for giving this a chance!!!I had a lot of fun writig this, which isn't something ive said a lot lately.

I originally was on my drive back from my parents like "i wanna write omegaverse" it was originally gonna be a lot more serious, but as i was planning and thinking it just ended up having a sillier vibe.

It will still have more serious themes here and there, but nothing like what i usually do. Im very nervous. The most lighthearted series ive ever done was the DBF joel series but that was more a series of one shots. And awakening was goofy and silly sometimes but was also pretty heavily about the beauty of coming out later in life, finding yourself, exploring sexuality, and deep trust.

This fic is playing on the rom com vibes. Idiots in love. Enemies to lovers. I hope you guys like it. Prinny says she think it'll be good for me to have something lighter, considering how much dark fics and dark themes i do.

I know I was talking about the series with my OC sadie summers and logan and thats still in the works, but there were some kinks i needed to work out that I havn't yet before i can go foreward. Fen and I are almost done with IYWBW, and when that done ill start on the benny miller x oc series for the final installment of Leather and lace universe!!!

and eventually, EVENTUALLY i will get that final chapter of ROF done. its just HARD (like my dick)

peace and love girlies (gn)

if you want to be added to my general logan content, check out the taglist linked above, but if you want to be added to this series, comment below!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @miraclesabound

#Logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #alpha logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan x men #logan james howlett #jean grey #scott summers #remy lebeau #rogue xmen #omegaverse #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #logan wolverine #idiots in love

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translatemunson · 1 year ago

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devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes • ttfd

chapter one of the tortured firefighters department

masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, description of clothes, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)

You knocked on the white door again, not sure why you feel nervous about all of this. It’s just a small get-together at one of your coworker’s houses. For sure it’s better than spending another night in the library, writing your thesis, but it kinda makes you nervous.

So this is what life looks like when away from the screens that raised you?

From the East Coast all the way to LA to get your PhD, the city of angels was no more than a stranger on the window. Before moving, you had worked on the 9-1-1 call center for your region because the shift’s schedule could actually fit your undergrad and master’s schedule — also the money was enough to survive, and you could check your notes on slow shifts. But once after a massive power outage, your superior thought your desk was too small for your brain.

Not that you were a bad dispatcher — your responses and action times were above average, actually —, but he’d seen how you managed the data influx, pinning all the accidents, teams on call and reported issues on the white board and shouting directions for quicker routes and delay problems. After that, you’d spend more time helping fixing turnaround times and implementing some sort of algorithm and protocols for when the next disaster hits. At some point, they transferred you to Florida during the hurricane season because of your reputation — that spread like a wildfire, believe you or not.

You lasted enough to finish your master’s degree and hop on a plane to LA, for your PhD in dynamical systems theory. You had a job offer, leaving your 9-1-1 days behind for some small desk and endless boring demands. It didn’t last much, though, because, after eight months, it made you miss the adrenaline rush and large income of data from the 9-1-1.

That’s how you ended up at the Los Angeles 9-1-1 call center in Metro, always happy to jump on some calls and help other dispatchers with logistics and patterns. Nobody warned you about tsunamis or earthquakes, but you knew you could manage them just like a pro — if they ever happened again, which was a matter of time.

“Hey! I was starting to think you would bail on me!” Maddie opened the door, the genuine happiness glow irradiating and making her smile almost unbearable. “Please, come in.”

“Got caught up in traffic. Who knew the logistics mastermind would be stuck in a casual traffic jam?” You gave her the flowers you bought and held the brownie pan with both hands. “Hope I’m not too late.”

“Oh no, you arrived just in time! Here, let me take care of this,” she took the pan from your hands and motioned to the living room. “Make yourself at home. And thanks for the flowers!”

“Our last guest, finally!” Howard, aka Chim, Maddie’s boyfriend, left his place on the counter to greet you. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice!”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint you.” You hugged him, your extroverted persona finally happy to be in a room with real people, and not just some endless phone calls and work talk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s ok, those guys are too busy with their games to notice we are a little behind schedule. But Jee is getting hangry” He pointed to the couch, where three adults, one child and one baby were too busy with the TV screen to notice your arrival.

“I guess the kid’s table is full tonight.”

“Hey, we’ve heard that!” One of them screamed from the couch, not bothering to look in your direction. He raised his arm, the tattoos across his skin showing against his white skin, in protest.

“Nice crowd.” You followed Maddie into the kitchen, Chim’s voice in the background saying it was the last race.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Water, juice or some alcohol?” She offered while reaching for the glasses. “Oh, Chim made some Margaritas.”

“I’d love one of those, thank you.” You fixed your green dress, somehow feeling overdressed. Not exactly your fault, when Maddie invited you for dinner, you visualized all the scenarios in your mind. Afraid of looking lazy, you went for a flowy green dress and a batch of brownies, to show some appreciation.

Between Margarita sips and after work gossip — because, nowadays, your work schedules mostly were off sync —, you helped Maddie setting the table and dishes. And, as expected, one race became four, with Chim playing the commentator. Maddie took the chance to show you the houses they were applying for, making good use of Jee’s quiet bedroom to talk.

“Are the others not good enough or just too expensive?” She had been talking about house scouting for weeks, and even helped you find a new place while doing so.

“You’d be impressed to see the final price of those houses once you track all the problems.” She played with her hair. “How’ve you been doing?”

“My thesis is starting to follow me like an unwanted ghost, and work has been— no, not gonna jinx it. Moving has been a pain in the ass, but thanks for telling me about that loft. The rent is actually acceptable and the view is amazing!”

“Glad it worked for you! And don’t thank me, actually it was—”

“Hey, Mads, we’re just waiting for you two.” The tall blue eyed guy stood in the hallway and gave the door a weak tap. Oh, tattoo guy, you noticed. “Chim is destroying the dumplings Albert made and Jee is not happy with being left out of the girls reunion. You better hurry up.”

“We are right behind you, Buck.” She said, bringing you with her to the dining table.

After some quick introductions — Albert, Chim’s half-brother; Eddie and his son Christopher, and Buck, Maddie’s little brother —, you indulged in some dumplings and pork ramen. Albert was experimenting with Korean cuisine, talking about opening a restaurant and finally having enough money to move out to his own place.

“Well, I think you should do it. I’d be happy to order this every day,” you said, pointing your chopsticks to the almost empty bowl.

“Thanks– sorry, what is your name again?”

“Everyone just call me Brains.” The nickname stuck since your first major catastrophe at the call center job — and maybe a little because of your bachelor.

“Wait, I think I’ve met you before.” Eddie announced and looked at Chris. “You went to his school a few weeks ago to talk about pursuing math in college, right?”

“I did a small presentation, yeah. My professor asked me for a favor since his kids are students there, but he had a full schedule. I had a nice time with the kiddos.”

“She is super smart!” Chris shared, in his own words, a little about your presentation. Talking to the younger ones about advanced math proved to be a challenge, but once you showed them all the cool things math made possible, you had their attention.

“Why are you working on the 9-1-1 instead of, I don’t know, teaching in college?” Buck inquired, beer in hand.

“Would you believe me if I said I have an adrenaline addiction and I can’t stay away from trouble?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“Oh, he would, because he was addicted to—”

Maddie slapped Chimney on the arm. “Hey, there’s two kids in the room.”

And all eyes were on Chris, who was too busy with his noodles to notice, and Jee, playing with her bites of veggies. You laughed, leaving your empty cup on the table, and reaching for the last dumpling.

“I guess we are all addicted to something,” you stared at Buck's blue eyes and took a bite. “Maybe once I get my PhD, I’ll go full professor and find some adrenaline on handing out really hard exams. But the chances are very low.”

“You should try being part of LAFD, you might like it,” Albert suggested.

“I can barely carry my boxes upstairs, being that physical isn’t for me.” The admission made you shyly smile, because you were definitely hinting that firefighters were strong. “Math, on the other hand…”

“Please, don’t give her any more ideas! Since Brains started working with us, the dispatching process changed for the better.” Maddie brought her hands together and begged in a joking tone.

A few Margaritas and some dessert later, you were helping Maddie with the dishes while Albert played with Christopher, and Buck was holding Jee so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Chim asked Eddie to help with a few construction questions, feeling like he was missing some important topics while house scouting.

“I think I’m done for the night,” you told her as you closed the cabinet door. “Thanks for the invite, Maddie. You were right, I needed a break.”

“I know when I see someone on the verge of burnout.” You looked at her, the tequila making the simple action of laughing much more easier. “Let me know when you’re settled at your new place so I can get you a housewarming gift.”

“Oh please, don’t bother, Maddie. I’m sure you’re too busy with Jee and moving matters.”

“Sure you don’t want some ramen for tomorrow? Albert may be a good cook, but he has no idea of the measurements.”

“You’re sick of the smell, right?”

“A little.” She smirked.

“I guess I won’t have to worry about lunch tomorrow.”

“Make two, Mads!” Buck approached the kitchen counter. “Leaving already, Brains?”

“Yeah, gonna finish moving to my new place tomorrow.” Maddie left the blue tupperware in front of you. “Thanks, I’ll bring it to you next wednesday.”

“Can I get more brownies?”

“Anything for my favorite dispatcher.” You looked around, opting for a quick goodbye. “It was nice to meet y’all. Again, thanks for the invite, Maddie.”

“Nice to meet you too, Brains,” Buck said, getting closer. “Hope to speak to you soon, dispatcher Brains.”

“I hope we don’t, firefighter Buckley.” You teased him. “Have a good night, guys.”

You left Maddie’s place, drove to your new place, opened the door for an empty apartment, stored the ramen in the fridge, climbed up the stairs and fell face first into your bed, shoes and all.

If you didn’t know Maddie, you’d say she had second intentions with that dinner.

author's note: hi guys! chapters will be short because it helps me keep the momentum with the writing (and keep the impostor's syndrome away from my efforts). also yeah i'm using TTFD as an acronym bc i choose a whole ass long title for the fic. huge shout out to my love my bestie my soulmate @munsonsreputation for always supporting me (love you kaaaay). also hi casey welcome to the 9-1-1 fandom, thank you for the endless edits on tiktok haha. i guess i see y'all next week...

#evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buck buckely #buck fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #effie writes

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tribow · 5 months ago

Text

Ah yes let me listen to

While I get some work done mmm I wonder what's going on here.

"...This stuff is also happening on music platforms like Spotify too, so it's not like using another musical platform is really an option."

HUH!??!?!?! WHAT!??!?!?

"And even if it was, that shouldn't be the solution."

NO. NO! NOOO!!!

You can't, you can't just dismiss the competition! Youtube and Spotify are not the only places to listen to music are you kidding me!??!?! Both Youtube and Spotify are music platforms that heavily rely on algorithms to deliver music to you. Of course bots and AI slop are going to take advantage of that! This video talks a lot about how Youtube playlists and recommendations are getting ruined by the slop. That's a shame, really, but consider what you're saying here!

There are options!!!!

Bandcamp and Soundcloud are right there!!! They're right there!!!!!

I go to the first page of Bandcamp and what do I get??? Featured Artists being promoted by Bandcamp, a list of current top selling albums on the platform, new and notable albums that were released on the platform recently, and encouragement to explore the tags.

What do I get on Soundcloud??? Music I recently played, Recommendations based on songs I previously liked, Other recommendations based on who I follow and listen to, Soundcloud's featured artists that get promoted.

Both platforms use tags that are set by whatever musician uploaded the music. They both encourage you to curate your music yourself or explore what others have curated. Yes, there's some algorithm stuff on their front pages, but these algorithms are properly built to promote real people and not just bots taking advantage of the system. Soundcloud has a feed just like other social media platforms, and that feed is only for what YOU follow.

Heck, you could even use Audius! I don't personally use the platform myself, but it functions like an alternative to Soundcloud. It has much of the same appeal. Its front page shows what music is currently trending, but guess what, it has a feed and it encourages you to curate it!

I get it, a lot of artists don't use these platforms, but what ties them all together is that they're doing what we want them to do: Actually support musicians. Artists aren't incentivized to use the platforms strictly because they're less popular, but it doesn't mean these platforms are worse than Youtube or Spotify.

Spotify sucks ass! They're literally infamous for being infested with bots, fake genres, and barely paying artists. You can buy an artists album for $5 and you would be paying them more money than they would get if you listened to them on Spotify for 5 months total.

Youtube pays a bit better, but they don't give a flying fuck about music! They're trying to have the whole cake and eat it too with movies, games, and other social media interaction. (text posts, polls, pictures, and the such.) They want people to be using their platforms and ONLY their platforms for everything. Your eyes must be glued to their screens at all times, so what if the algorithm hands you slop? You'll watch it right? It'll promote whatever keeps you there no matter who or what it is! (as long as its legal)

Don't sit around waiting for these platforms to change for the better. LEAVE. If you want to support artists then support them on other platforms if they're available on there!

And I know, I know Soundcloud had a whole exodus some years ago because whoever makes the decisions at Soundcloud is some out of touch buffoon who's getting desperate and doesn't know how to make the platform profitable, but you know what happened with almost every stupid decision Soundcloud made? They rolled it back or it didn't follow through with it. They're at the mercy of the userbase. The platform has issues, but I'd never give it up for the lack of respect and slop Spotify and Youtube have. Soundcloud's my musical hellsite (affectionate)

Bandcamp, as far as I know, has 0 controversy outside of the big companies who bought them and laid off half the Bandcamp staff. That wasn't Bandcamp's fault! They just got fucked over by Epic, otherwise they're still doing great! Bandcamp just needs to modernize their platform a little bit. (HOW IS THERE STILL NO VOLUME SLIDER)

Again, no comment on Audius, but hell maybe I'll start using that too.

And if you're SO INSISTENT on using Youtube for music, don't rely on the algorithm for your content! You can curate what you see on there you know! Subscribe to people, actually look at your subscription feed! If you want to use recommendations, you can adjust that too! Every time you see some AI bullshit click on those 3 little dots and either click "Not Interested" or "Don't recommend channel". I hate Youtube's guts when it comes to music, but they at least gave you options to if you hate what the algorithm is showing you. Use them!

Fuck!

Sorry that video got under my skin, it's not a bad video all things considered, but that one point got me heated.

#youtube #music #soundcloud #bandcamp #algorithm #spotify #curator #and enough of this “Release this on Spotify!” “When is it coming to Spotify!” shit!!#WHEN IS IT COMING TO BANDCAMP #WHERE'S THE BANDCAMP RELEASE!?!?!?

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