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veiled-harvest · 22 days ago

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Tough Love; Crush or be Crushed | Mainstream!Mark Grayson x Bully!Reader | Chapter: 1

Content Warnings; mentions of suicide , light angst, arguments ,light cussing, misunderstanding

Mark has known the reader since middle school never really understanding why she hated his guts.

Word count: 4.5k ~

Insufferable

That's how you’d describe Mark Grayson, the charming, unfathomably upbeat bastard you had the displeasure of sitting across from in math. Your least favorite subject with your least favorite boy.

And he couldn’t understand why. The two of you shared friends, classes even interests, but from 7th grade to your junior year of high school, you despised him entirely.

“Y/N…Do you possibly need help with the next problem” Mark noticed your eyebrows immediately knit and felt goosebumps rise on his skin. He’d fought deadly monsters , murderous world ending villains and even his mothers wrath when he failed to do a chore but it all paled in comparison to that look , it managed to activate fear in places he didn’t know were possible.

“The day I possibly need any help from you is the day the gun I choose for my final moment decides to jam—”

“A no would have done wonders.”

“But a ‘no’ wouldn’t drive the point home and kiss it goodnight”

“You ….want me to kiss you?”

“Thank god this isn’t English.”

“Which we have next.” The smug on his face causes you to retract any words you may have wanted to say.

You opened your mouth to respond , your nerves got the best of you but you give him a glare as he beamed at you, satisfied with your defeated silence.

This little thing you had; been going on since late middle school when you just moved into town.

“Aaaand this will be your locker Y/N! The combination is 26-7-“ you were doing your best to pay attention but a class seemed to be making its way back from an activity rather loudly and you failed to catch the last numbers of the combination.

But you couldn’t care less

Time and time again your mother moved you city to city ,state to state but it was all the same , if this were a game you’d be doing victory laps by now. You’d hold the world record for speed running “New Student Simulator” Memorizing new names ,new faces ,new halls ,new classes all at the drop of a hat.

At first you were sensitive to the constant shifts in your environment , but now stripped raw of any further emotions when notified of a move ;you didn’t even sigh you’d anticipate the announcement already prepared to re-pack your belongings in such routine fashion and be ready so early you’d have to left over time to say good bye to place you called home for how ever long you were here.

Luckily the teacher guiding you though the new building had written down the combination before dropping you off at your first class despite it being the 2nd for the other students.

The awkwardness of being introduced to new faces was left behind in the 6th grade. You quickly wave and made your way to the back with no plans to remember the faces you passed.

It being the 2nd official day back from summer break meant you only missed out on seating arrangements and the yearly orientation that included old and new student reminding you yet again how out of place you were everywhere you went, which you were pleased with.

Missing day 1 saved you from the fomo of having to wait til all the friends snuck to pick each other and take what ever seat was left.

The teacher had placed you next to Mark Grayson. He smiled at you from across the room as you made your way to the seat beside him. The seat was already pulled out for you ,which you had watch him scramble to slide it out seconds before.

Your lips barely formed a returning smile while hanging your back pack by it’s straps on the back of your chair.

Your next movement was practically muscle memory; not acknowledging person beside you beyond a half smile— head down laying in your folded arms ,resting on the cold surface of the desk.

As another student passed out the assignment for the day. you feel a nudge on your right arm which you assumed was the eraser end of a pencil.

“So I’m Mark , what’s uh your name again? l didn’t catch it when the teacher said it, my bad”— you barely turn to face him still buried in your arms.

“…Y/N” You hesitate purely because you were taken aback by his effort to learn your name.

“Cool, Cool….-You missed the first day yesterday, but you didn’t miss much Oh- wait maybe you did, apparently there was a fight in gym 4th period between these 8th graders and-“ Mark was basically filling you in on the things you “missed” as if it had any importance.

You wanted to be annoyed , to tell him to shut up but some part of you wanted him to continue his senseless update so you didn’t and just peaked at him through the loose strands of your hair.

“Hey—If we have anymore classes together I’ll let you know what the 8th graders fought over !” Mentally you scoff at the gesture settled on nodding in acknowledging while maintaining your hunched posture.

“Um sure..” Your choice of words got stuck in your throat so a default answer took it's place.

The last time you felt this tightness in your throat was back in the 4th grade when an older kid helped you on the play ground. It was like your stomach was doing cartwheels down a hill. You nearly vomited on his sneakers but through devine intervention he had already ran off before you could do something foolish . Now your brain was already making the efforts to re FORGET the memory.

The assignment was meant to be done with partner and you weren’t exactly looking forward to having to engage to even more with your chatty desk buddy.

Suddenly one of the boys seated ahead of you turned to face Mark.

“Pssst Mark, if I give you the answers you gotta come play catch with us after school today, screw sinus dog-“

“Woah Excuse you it’s ‘Seance Dog’ those words don’t even sound the same dude” who you assume were friends of his seated a few feet away ahead laugh at his weak-aggression, a boy adjacent to you passes Mark a torn piece of paper which you presume have the answers you each seeked. He snatched the paper with rolling eyes with a smirk that hitched your breath.

‘Fuck’

Your eyebrows knitted as you buried your head deeper in your folded arms once again seeking refuge in the temporary darkness. Pencil hit paper with lighting speed and he circled the answers corresponding with the letters jotted down on the note.

“Here Y/N I’m done with it you can use it too , only has to sacrifice an evening with seance Dog to get it” You leaves it next to your paper as you lift your head. Why was he being so friendly to you, you’ve barely spoke to him in the 20 minutes he’s known you yet he’s passing answers to you.

“But why?”

“Why what? Why’s his name Seance dog or.-“

“No, Why are you being so nice to me”

“Why not ?” , a laugh trailed off the childish rebuttal, signing his name at the top of his sheet with a smiley face.

You’re sitting up now, trying every bit you can to conceal the blush that fought to be noticed. To the best of your ability you fill your own sheet of paper.

If it weren’t the fact Mark was talking to his friends ,he’d notice your subtle glances at him. But he turned to you so quickly you nearly jumped yourself

“Do you read any comics Y/N , regardless you should read Seance Dog!”

“Here he goes-“

“It’s good a you guys know it!”

“It’s about a magic dog Mark.”

“Uh no it’s way more than that, What ever , Y/N I have the 1st issue of it in my locker ! I got an extra copy to introduce it to other people, maybe I can give it to you too” the 3 pairs of eyes lay on you , that familiar feeling of anxiety crept up your back and your throat goes dry.

Yet that glowing smile Mark offered you again eased the dreadful anticipation encouraging you to speak.

“Fine I’ll read about the dumb dog” —you shook your head amused at his dramatic expression, in that moment you became a temporary god.

“Oh no he’s got another, don’t fall for his tricks once you read the first issue you’ll be forced to read them all!” The boys laugh at their own warning and turn front facing to continue their previous conversation.

No teasing , no song about you and mark kissing in a tree, no odd looks for taking up his offer.

There you sat bit shocked but relieved , the tedious mini game trampled. You found yourself looking at Mark again ignoring your previous endeavor not do so.

Your lips part to say something but the bell interrupted and startled you. Mark collected his things and then both of your papers and you instinctively reach for it aswell.

“I got it Y/N, I’ll turn it in for you, I know where all my classes but you’re gonna need all the time you can to get to your next class”

“What makes you say that—?”

“Beacuse it’s across the school in the C wing, you’re gonna wanna leave the classroom take a left back towards the mains office then go all the way to end of that hall there you will see the science hall” You take a mental note of the directions but question how he even knew your next class.

“How do you even know I have scienc-“

“Your schedule was sitting on the table between us all period ,Duh . Which also lets me know we have 3 whole classes together! See you in Math”

“Oh , bye I gu-“ You failed to say farewell before he already left you there at your shared seating. You watched him place both papers on the teachers desk along with the other students work.

You didn’t have time to dwell on this you had to go to your next class. But the whole way there your cheeks felt heated you, couldn’t not think about the kind boy you were gratefully placed next to in history especially after he had been so nice to you.

It wouldn’t be the last time either.

A faint groan leaves your body as you slide a hand down your face,that day was so distant yet it left an everlasting impression on how you viewed Mark.

The moment you met you’d knew this was going end poorly so you kept it to yourself. You stayed “friends” , you hung out , laughed together , had many friends in common but you took it upon yourself to draw that line in the sand.

To you , Mark was a ray of light whenever he walked in a room.

To Mark , you. from what you gathered , were the funny girl he’s known since middle school

To imagine anything further would have been ridiculous despite the universe placing you two in situations to suggest other wise.

Your first line of defense ; being as mean as humanly possible. It hurt at first seeing his face twinge with slight discomfort when you’d tease him, gifting harsh comebacks to his compliments.

At times it felt like it was hurting you more than it was harming him.

Luckily, you kept a journal, jotting down all the things you dared not mutter. It was reckless; anyone could walk behind you, or take a seat and see your countless lines of pined devotion. Each entry dated, every poem signed, your biggest secret placed neatly on the dotted lines.

The journal was atleast the length of your hands placed side by side, the cover was black leather with no indication of owner ship and the first page sat a lone Seance Dog sticker that was long over due to be replaced.

But Mark gave that sticker to you so long ago you couldn’t bare or wouldn’t dare to rid the sheet of it’s presence.

It was on the corner of your desk so close to the reason of its existence. Mark always had some proximity to the secret bound notebook.

He’d questioned it once before but the time he placed his hands upon it you freaked out and snatched it from his grasp causing your small group of friends to collectively raise an eyebrow at the action.

You managed to lie and say your therapist (whom you didn’t have) told you it was for when you couldn’t handle your emotions at times ,that it meant so much to you to have a space of your own , losing it would leave you in ruin , so they let it go, following with Mark apologizing for making you uncomfortable.

Back to math ; Mark was focused on the work , he seemed to also be struggling with , which now that that your thinking about it is probably why he turned to you for help

The girl next to him rolled her eyes at you and scooted closer to mark unbeknownst to him. Hannah, she wasn’t a big fan of how you spoke to Mark so she’d ‘ intervened’ where she deemed fit.

He always helped you, but never knew how to ask for it himself. You grab your pencil and reach for his paper.

“Hey- I was getting”

“Sure you were, start here then move on to this part of the equation, you were going to confuse yourself again” You peered at Hannah, already fixing her self back in her seat with a satisfied look on her face almost as if she did that simply to make you act on your ‘rare asks of kindness’ almost like she knew you needed the extra push.

“Y/N, you’re—- a genius where have you been all my life.”

You grew used to his sickly sweet nature , if it had been another time you’d be stuttering and adverting your gaze but luckily you managed to control the surges of excitement that rung in your heart when ever he spoke to you.

“What —ever.” You dismiss the praise continuing to work on your own work.

Between solving equations you look between Mark and his paper.

‘He still draws smiley faces near his name’

Your hand covers your mouth to hid the small smile that couldn’t be contained.

All his little quirks made falling for him inevitable. He still played with his pencil whenever he was stumped on things. Certain corners of his papers slightly folding ,his hands always begging to be busy. Mark still doodled in the margins of his class work even getting scolded from teachers and teased by others ,but you? You’d never

He’d doodled on random things , Sticky notes , receipts , any empty sheet he could get his pencil on. He’d leave them behind like trash, only for them to be your treasure.

You always look around before hand already scheming when he walks off from where the doodling transpired and your fly in swiping your golden ticket. Without lying you’d admit this had only happened 3 times.

One of seance dog , of course.

One of the math teacher with demon horns

And one of —You.

It was a stick figure where you were sticking your tongue out , you remember playfully slapping his arm asking when the hell you’ve ever made that face.

These treasures tucked away in your journal only ever being seen by yours truly.

This crush was killing you softly , but you were ready to die in bliss.

Math came and went, you mark and William luckily had English with Ms.Riverwood together so you wouldn’t be alone with Mr.wonderful in the last period of the day.

You sat at a separate table but the boys were still nearby, close enough to talk at least. Not even William was aware of your conundrum. You did a good job a building a wall around yourself. There were times He’d laugh at your mean comments towards his own best friend and there were others he winced at the remarks.

In this period you’d get more of an opportunity for air, ever since you met this boy you’d been unintentionally attached at the hip.

Every year you’d share a majority of your classes, Mark was always there. If only he knew how you felt. Would he laugh ,would he distance himself? Would you lose the first genuine friend you ever made all because you failed to control yourself.

You weren’t about to risk it. Mark was too good to lose because of silly teen age hormones.

On the odd chances your English teacher was too tired and swamped with grading to teach , she’d instruct the class to write about anything , everything which would be used as extra credit towards your final grade.

You always write romantic stories about random couple and your teacher would encourage you to read them for the class.

But these kids have seen you cuss out men twice your size ,to suddenly serenade them with words you’d only whisper to yourself under your covers would be acting out a nightmare in your own behalf ,so you’d always turn her down.

Work was done fast as usually and you reached in your bag to get your little black book.

You freeze , the spot where it’s usually tucked away in your bag, vacant , your heart practically dropped to your ass.

‘No fucking way.’ Did you really leave it in math class—

You jump from your chair and made your way to your teachers desk. She raises an eyebrow behind her frames surprised you of all people stood before her in urgency.

“Ms.Riverwood I really need a hall pass”

“Y/N? what’s wrong ? Class isn’t out for another—20 minutes or so. ”

“I um—“ You lean in closer and lower your panicked tone to a whisper. “I left something very important in the Math wing could I go get get it? Please” She’s hesitant for a second before realizing what it was referring to.

She only knew of its existence because youd left it in her class many a time for safe keeping.

“Alright , no need to take a pass , homework will be online , hurry but don’t run.”

“Thank you so so so much I’ll stay after tommorow and help grade papers — anything” You rush back to your seat getting a look from a few students confused by your rush to leave. William looks up from his work noticing aswell but you were already making your way out the classroom to see Mark had noticed you nearly run out the room too.

‘Please be empty , please be there’ At first you were speed walking but then grew to a full sprint down the hall to your previous class.

The room was empty and luckily unlocked with no math teacher in sight and no book to be seen. The brewing anxiety in your chest made your heart pound, part is you was trying to convince yourself maybe your math teacher had the book in his possession

But the other part started making you think of the others who could have found it —Or worse if Mark would find it.

‘Lost and found’

You remember your math teacher Mr. A, saying once before he doesn’t like a messy room and will deliver any items left behind to the lost and found. The squeaks of sneakers were faint to your ears as you dashed to the lower level of the school. A few students moving to avoid colliding with you as you.

Finally you made it down the hall where lost and found would be. You slow down being grateful for the lost time you made up for but stop in your tracks at the echos of laughter nearby.

“Yo, ‘His eyes burned with an auburn hue in the summer’ ? This is so fucking cringe”

“LOL who wrote this shit bro.”

You knew that phrase, you commonly referred to his eyes in that exact manner.

A group of kids has already discovered your book, your delicate heart burned with its own humiliated flame. You clench your jaw ,gripping one of the straps on your book-bag , trying to catch your breathe.

You weren’t about to let them belittle you this way, you muster up enough courage to walk over but find it hard to mask the rage boiling beneath your skin. There were 4 students surrounding the window in the wall deemed the lost and found , one of which was a hall monitor given the atrocious yellow sash they had to wear. Despite the alarms bell blaring in your head you approached them determined to retrieve your prized possession.

“Since when are we allowed to go through people stuff down here? Give me that journal-“

The boy holding your journal shuts snaps it shut in his palm cutting you off, proceeding to wave it in the air.

“No shot this belongs to you! You’re a fucking weirdo, I should really turn this in to an admin.”

“Girl this is next level creepy , this is shit they’d use as evidence in those true crime documentaries” At this point your face was definitely turning a scarlet shade from a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

To think you were just dwelling on possible exposure; talk about subtle foreshadowing

“It’s mine and you’re going to give it to me. My names on the first page signed ‘Y/N’ in bright glittery blue ink please just- give it back” a strong sense of fear hid anoungst at your demand.

“You write this creepy shit an- are you seriously about to cry over this?” They began to laugh at you as you tried to stay composed.

Time was running out and you needed to get this back before irreprehensible damage was done to your ego.

“Guys If she said give it back, give it back.” You spun around like a deer infront of headlights.

Mark came to what he presumed was your rescue to find you nearly to tears and at the point at exploding all at once. You tear your eyes from his and back to the group of students, some continue their laughing other giving mark a look of great disdained.

“Dude Mark if you read this shit-“ “I don’t need to, give her the book back you guys are being dicks” They share looks yet again and the same boy tosses the book your way which you manage to catch and hold so close like a raft in rushing water.

The hall monitor looked between you then Mark and was quick to pick up on the correlation to why you were so panicked when he approached.

“Wait— Mark you know Y/n?” She asked with a hint of guilt in her one , her friends continued to make jokes between each other.

“Yeah ,since middle school why?”

Who ever this chick was seemed to be the only one able to pick up on the true meaning of the book but you were quicker, You grabbed Mark by his arm and practically drag him away from the group of students who began to question the one girl amoungst them that figured it out but she told them to shut up and drop it .

You were a safe distance away at this point and their voices faded quickly deeper in the hall. Your head was hot and your chest was so tight it felt like it would rip through your skin at any second.

What if he found out right there infront of those ass holes what you were really there for. Your senes were still horrid, you didn’t realize how fast you were walking or how hard you were holding onto Mark.

“Wait. Y/N —slow down”

“Y/N!” Your head snaps up with mark now holding your arm. You hadn’t realized you were back in the English hall too. Each part of you was burning.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t follow you sooner-“

“Why were you even there?“ You’re unable to face him , it was impossible to wrap your head around what had nearly happened .

“Why not? If I hadn’t been the-“

“I could have handle it on my own ,Mark” The barrier preventing you from meeting his gaze vanished and anger took the wheel.

“I didn’t call for you I sure as hell I didn’t ask for you to be there, I’m a big girl Grayson I could have-“

“But I’m your friend Y/N-“

“I didn’t ask for you to do that either” Your quickly realize what had you had said and in that moment you see a face you’ve never seen him conjure before; genuine hurt. Mark swallows taking a step back while tucking a hand in his pocket and the other reaches to rub his neck. Students who had left class early whisper as they passed by.

“Ouch”

“Wait Mark I didn’t mean that I’m so sorry-“

Before he can say anything the final bell rings. Tears prick in your eyes , his hurt turned to concern and Mark attempts to reach for you but you pull away clutching your journal even closer to your heart.

Jesus ,He looked like you kicked his dog. When your eyes met a few tears fell and you fully turn away from him and head towards the nearest exit before anyone else could see you like this.

Mark watches you vanish into the incoming swarm of students , images of your damp face still fresh in his mind. He just stood there as kids told him to move , he remained still until William lightly shoved his back pack in his arms chest.

“Mark What-happened? Y/N left then you left..? Now- you’re here and Y/N isn’t.” Mark looked at him for a moment then back to the direction he last saw you.

“I—Don’t know..”

Instead of taking the bus along with your friends, you choose to walk. Clinging to the binded heart hidden on your arms. Amidst your trudge home you felt vibrations buzz against your thigh. You stop and grab your phone reading the messages left behind by your friends.

William ? where do you go ? Are you alright . Text me back

Jess Uh babe, you missed the bus ;(( you good? call me < 3

Loser Are you okay? : ( I'm sorry if i messed up , Call me or dont. I'm really sorry Y/N

You feel tears again but your phones chimes once more and your grip grew tighter on the edges of the device when you read the last message

Loser You’re always going to be my friend ‘Nickname’ even if I’m not yours… Ttyl

‘Friend’

That’s all you’d ever be to him.

How much longer were you going to run away from this, how much more could you keep up the charade, to masquerade this aggressive persona to keep him at bay, avoiding him wasn’t enough , the violence cascaded in your words only did damage.

He’d have to cease existence before you’d even attempt to grasp the concept of living beyond the pages you sought refuge in.

You hurt him all for the sake of protecting the fantasy you decorated pages with. Bur he was the sending you texts of apology.

The time you put into each sequence of words couldn’t replace what stood before you.

It was going to burn right through you and you would let it

#mark grayson x y/n #invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible variants x reader #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mainstream mark

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g0dlyunsub · 1 year ago

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red herring.

in which spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.

pairing :: spencer x reader

warnings :: none? some [really slight] sexual tension but it’s mostly spencer being his witty self.

word count :: 1.3k

author’s note :: second post is now up! i’m a sucker for pure fluff that involves constant bickering, especially when it involves spencer’s ginormous brain. mention of his glasses like thrice. i also just realized i missed the opportunity to title this as reid herring, but i'm too lazy to change the cover :3

accompanying song :: show me by mac ayres and chris anderson

you let out a deep sigh before you can stop yourself, and you instantly try to fake cough to mask your disappointment. spencer’s quick to notice, however, and he flashes a smile at you. his glasses hitch up slightly as his nose lightly crinkles, and you can’t help but look and admire. in comparison, your smile is always turned downwards and you’ve never felt comfortable displaying a wide smile like his.

you’d find his smile to be refreshing any other day, but right now, it’s more of a nuisance than anything.

“what, can’t admit that you’ve lost the last seven games of chess?” spencer chuckles playfully and rests his chin on his hand.

you huff in frustration and tap the table with your index finger. “you’ve been playing this game since like what, when you were a week old? your elo rating is probably well above candidate masters and-”

“so what else do you want to try? i’ve handicapped my queen, my bishop, do you want a rook gone next?” the rim of spencer’s glasses gleams under the lighting as he asks, and you hate how everything seems to be on his side.

“no,” you pout, and tip over your king to surrender. “i want to play something different.” you fold your arms in front of your chest as you speak and lean back in your chair.

“you know, if it helps, i could explain the strategies i used to counter your plays. these seven- well eight games, we’ve played the italian defense three times, the caro-kann setup twice, the sicilian defense once, which is pretty impress-” you cut spencer short when you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows.

“can we not… talk about chess right now?” you pout once again, and push the chess board to the side of the table.

“well. is there anything else that you want to play?” spencer adjusts his glasses as you scratch the back of your head in contemplation.

“old maid. i’m a natural at that game,” you suggest, and you notice the corner of spencer’s lips tug into a smirk.

“oh, i bet you are. try me.” confidence oozes from his words and your heart beats just a little faster. he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“i’ll deal the cards.” you grab a deck of cards from the drawer of your desk and shuffle the cards in a swift and fluid manner.

“that’s right, in a classic two-player situation for a deck of 1 card to a deck of 51 cards, the latter of which is the standard for a game of old maid, the expected probabilities for the dealer winning are always higher than the non-dealer. if you’re really going for the win, i’d recommend playing with a smaller deck of cards, but the difference is really minimal. you’re looking at a simulated probability of 50.4 percent with 51 cards versus 51.8 percent with 23 cards.” spencer rolls the facts off his tongue like it’s common sense, and you blink rapidly in stunned confusion. he’s playing it off with a goofy smile again. ugh.

the next hour is filled mostly with intense silence, and you could swear a part of your brain was going to short circuit from mental exhaustion any minute.

“is it… here? hm?” spencer observes your facial expressions for any note of change, but you wouldn’t give it to him. you remain unphased as his fingers trail between your cards and pull the rightmost card from your grip.

your heart makes an ecstatic turn when he takes the old maid and it takes everything in you to suppress your smile. so much for being a profiler.

your excitement doesn’t last, however, when he slightly cocks his head to the side and starts to shuffle his cards. it’s endgame, and you might be able to come out of this with your first victory.

you lean in ever so slightly, brushing your fingers atop each card and pausing in between. your eyes lock onto his hazel beads, and neither of you blink.

“it’s not this card.” you move to the next card, and spencer raises an eyebrow.

“are you sure? you know, statistically speaking, when one shuffles their deck of-” your hand snakes under his cards and you lay a finger to his lips.

“shh, i’m trying to concentrate,” you whisper, and everything goes silent. the tension between the two of you hangs suspended in the air and it’s increasingly harder for you to focus on the game. in fact, you’re thinking of everything but the cards in front of you.

you draw in a deep breath and settle on the card that sits second to last in his right palm. when you turn the card over, a frown instantly overtakes your face. the old maid had instantly made its way back into your set of cards.

the rest of the game is torturous; each turn, spencer discards his pairs one by one, and your disappointment seeps through your loud sighs.

you set the last card on top of the messy pile of pairs. it’s a loss, again.

“spence, i’d beat you in any target game like darts.” you lift your head with an exhausted groan.

“you know, phil taylor, a 16-time world darts champion, is often cited to utilize geometry to his strategic advantage since he aims for the triple 20 section, which is one of the highest scoring areas of the board. it takes practice, of course, to nail the angle down, but an estimation of the dart's projectile motion offers great leverage to your precision.” he looks at you as you start to stack up the cards and stuff them back into their case.

after a pause, he continues: “can i not impress my favorite person once in a while?" he reaches for your hand to interlace his fingers with yours.

his thumb rubs the cave between your thumb and index finger in a circular motion, and you feel your body relax under his touch. you suppress your excitement at the mention of the word favorite by pursing your lips.

“you always impress me, spence. wait – hey, is that a red herring, coming from you?” you question, pulling his hand towards you.

“perhaps. and i’ll actually address mine, unlike a certain someone…” a sly grin spreads across his face.

“but what about that one time you-” you start, raising your other hand to contest.

“hm. interesting. that’s your first whataboutist reply in two days,” spencer cuts you off short. what an actual jerk.

he breaks into a small fit of laughter before he waves his hand to control himself. you, on the other hand, aren’t impressed. he stands, his figure towering over you as you remain seated.

“come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before we head out for the weekend. i’ll walk you home.” spencer motions for you to get up, and you reluctantly follow suit. you’re glad you could spend more time with the witty doctor, but you hadn’t expected to accumulate even more stress after work was over. a cup of coffee is exactly what you need to get a moment of relaxation.

he hands you your cup of coffee and turns to face you while stirring his drink with a coffee stick.

“hey, uh, listen. it’s been really nice playing with you today, and if you wanted to play again sometime, talk about strategies, stuff like that…” he trails off, watching you as you take a sip of your hot drink.

“of course, if you’ll ever consider adopting me as your apprentice,” you jokingly respond, and a glimmer surfaces in his eyes. before he can respond, you lean in and embrace him.

“i’m just kidding. invite me for a card game any time.” you look up so your forehead sits right under his chin. he’s surprised at your sudden move, but he sets his cup down and returns the hug.

“poker next?”

“oh hell no. get out of here.” you laugh and take his hand as you walk out of the office while he desperately scrambles for his cup with his free hand. both of your laughs echo down the hallway and trail behind as the elevator doors close.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #bau!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg x reader #dr spencer reid

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sugary-daydreams3 · 6 months ago

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Quiet inbetween [Sukuna x Reader]

Summary: Collections of quiet, cozy, intimate moments you share with Sukuna, who thinks you two won't last a year. Someone who used to live a wild, fast-paced, loud lifestyle couldn't possibly be fit for a long-term relationship. But he doesn't know that you're the one he needed this whole time.

Word Count: 3.7K words

Rating: Mostly fluff with a little spice (sexual content) at the end, but no full explicit content. Mostly T with a little M.

A/N: Happy holidays y'all. This might be my last fic posted in the year so I hope you guys transition into the new year safely. Goodness, do I love writing my A.U. version of Sukuna. So fun and flirty that he makes me blush sometimes and I control what he says. But I guess that's a good thing, right. Sadly my next fic is dealing with a not so fun topic, haha. (It's Gojo-centric, so you might know where I'm going with this) Anyways, stay safe out there and I'll see you again in 2025. Enough yapping from me, enjoy!

Normal, quiet moments tend to bring discomfort within Sukuna. Dating trouble as a teen limited his time to sit and enjoy the small pleasures of life. He was all about the grand, overwhelming, taboo pleasures that one wouldn’t dare chase but rather daydream about. Or worse, make simulation games about and live out their guilty pleasures vicariously through fictional characters. But with taboo pleasures come consequences which landed him in jail for some time.

Within the year after his release, he met you which slowly inspired him to alter his fast, vicious lifestyle. You introduced him to things he never would have found himself participating in. Things he used to tease his twin brother for being a sheep for society for. A mom-and-pop coffee shop was one of them.

“How do you drink this shit?” Sukuna sticks out his tongue. Tanned liquid trapped in your mouth almost spills. Air blows from your nose, signifying your amusement at Sukuna’s first experience with coffee.

Swallowing down the first sip of your coffee, your eyes admire Sukuna’s childlike distaste for your go-to morning beverage. “Because I order mine with cream, sugar, and caramel. You’re pretty much drinking burnt black water.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

You give him a “really?” look. “I said you should start out with the caramel Frappuccino but you said, and I quote.” You notch your voice down several pitches lower. “The hell I look like drinking that sissy shit.”

“You could have recommended me any other drink but this. This was a terrible first impression.”

“I can order you another one to make up for it.”

Sukuna pouts. “I’ll pass. I fear I’ll be disappointed again.”

“Sukuna, you just drink straight black coffee, you can’t write the whole thing off just because you had one variation of it. That’s like saying “I hate potatoes” because you ate unsalted, lukewarm fries.” Sukuna scrunches his face.

“That’s not the same.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a perfect comparison.”

“It’s two completely different scenarios. You really thought you schooled me with that, huh.”

“Shut up. I’m ordering you a new drink.”

Waiting for his redemption cup, Sukuna stares at you typing away on your laptop computer. Your hair curtains over part of your face, tempting Sukuna to reach over and fix it. Yet the messy hair curtain highlights your beauty so effortlessly, he couldn’t stop adoring your natural radiance.

The strong smell of roast occasionally makes its mark. Ranges of chatter mingle with the loud cycle of brewing and baking. Quirky, cheesy posters hang all over, providing a drowning sense of positivity and relatability. Generic chill music slithers through the atmosphere, failing to chill Sukuna’s social anxiety. Thankfully, his new drink just came to save the moment.

Taking a drink from the flat white laced with sugar and cream, he sits back to allow his brain to register. His eyebrows raise with a small smack of his mouth, giving you some hope that coffee redeemed itself on the oh so great Sukuna’s tastebuds.

“Well?” You ask impatiently.

“Not bad. Could use more sugar but it’s drinkable.” Sukuna reviews. A pleased smile killed your worry. “I’m glad you gave it a second chance. I hope we can have more coffee dates like this.”

Sukuna narrows his eyes. “This is a date?”

Your eyes roll. “No this is a job interview.”

“I’m not one for customer service but if I get to look at you all day long and the pay is good then sign me up.” You hate that something as corny as that made you blush.

“Hush Sukuna, of course this is a date. This is like our twelfth time seeing each other, I like to think all of the time we spent together so far wasn't a waste of time.”

“Ooh someone’s no-nonsense.” Sukuna smirks, large arms crossed.

You sigh, “I’m just over the hookups and the flings. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just one-and-done me.”

“Eh, all of the one-night conquests and strictly sex ordeals were starting to get stale. You got a nice face with a body to match. You’re on no bullshit and are fun for the most part. You haven't bored me yet so I don’t mind continuing this.”

“Yet?”

“I tend to get bored with my women so I wouldn't hold hope of this lasting past a year. Just letting you know so the heartbreak will hurt a little less.”

You smirk, amused by his lack of filter. “Well, a year will be record breaking compared to my recent relationships these last few years. So bring it.”

Your polished nails navigate the grassy fields of dusty pink, natural hair oil inked on your fingertips. Your poor thighs are weighed down under his dumbbells for arms. Your other hand caress Sukuna’s right bicep, fixating on the jet black tattoos contrasting with his pale skin. He rubs your left knee as he rests against your stomach.

Sukuna releases a deep sigh, letting go of the temporary stresses of life. He’ll rather die than admit it but this is what he mostly looks forward to when he goes about his day. It took him a while to get used to you being positioned behind him, often side eyeing the first few times you two were like this.

Call it trust issues. Slam the non-medical diagnosis of PTSD resulted from a rough upbringing and life as a criminal. Or if we’re really getting psychological, throw out the fancy “internalized misanthropy” word. Re-fucking-gardless, he’s always been highly aware and on guard whenever people are in close proximity to him, ever since he was a kid.

Now, the more he allows himself to turn his brain off in your lap the easier you hear him lightly snoring within several minutes. You giggle as his resting figure emits loud snores thirty minutes in of scalp scratching and head caressing.

“Sweet dreams.” You reach down to peck warmth on his forehead.

Your wishes go unnoticed as child-like ease warps itself across face tattoos and a sharp jawline. A surprisingly dynamic clash.

Your laughter saturates the kitchen space accompanied by music from the vintage radio. Flour dressed your behemoth all over, making it the sight of the century. Sukuna frowns as he attempts to smooth the pizza dough with the rolling pin. Tears edge your eyes; the catastrophe he was causing was funnier than any standup comedy.

“Hush. You're breaking my focus.” Sukuna was struggling to knead the dough enough to be a thin foundation. It usually ends up shaping to be a deep dish or just a regular sized pizza. This was his third effort to mold the pizza, with two “epic failures” baking in the oven.

When your laughter demoted to light chuckles, you rub his arm for support. “You know I can help you shape the dough. It took me fifteen tries before making an objectively decent pizza.” Sukuna shakes his head.

“That’s because you were the one making it. It’s gonna be perfect this time.” Sukuna smooths out the dough and smirks at his “perfectly” thin pizza. You roll your eyes and walk over to gather the cheese and other toppings.

The pizza rises within the oven, gluing the toppings within the cheese. Sukuna watches it carefully from the kitchen island, like his life depended on whether this Thursday night dinner was great or not.

A marathon of T.V. commercial ramblings was bugging background noise as you tidied up. The other two pizzas sat on the cooling rack, being forgotten tasty mistakes. Flour ages his hair many decades, snowing down his chest with every tiny movement. He turns to see an unlikely troublemaker look down at him, a small hill of flour ready to be thrown from your palm. Sukuna narrows his eyes with a challenging look.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“Game on.” You threw it, igniting a two-man war.

The remaining time for the perfect pizza to cook filled with flour fights, spotting majority of the kitchen with white powder. The cooking timer goes off as you two lay across the table exchanging flour and zeal between prolonged smooches.

This epic fantasy was seducing your imagination during the mundane hours of the late evening. You sense Sukuna spying on you and your book from the corner of your eye. However, the clever arrangement of words trailing above your bookmark helps you ignore him.

“How do you read these things? That shit looks bigger than The Bible.” Sukuna pokes at the spine of your novel, trailing over the gold-engrained lettering.

“I don’t judge stories based on length. If it’s engaging enough then I wouldn’t mind reading three hundred-plus pages of something.”

“Where do you find the time to invest in a story that long?” Sukuna wasn’t even teasing at this point; he was genuinely curious.

“People watch 10 seasons worth of television or animes with more than 100 episodes.”

“Watching TV and reading are different no matter how much you try to make them feel the same. I can simply turn on the T.V. and watch 100 episodes of something without exerting much energy. You have to sit up, read so many words, and decipher hundreds of pages worth of story. It’s not the same.”

“True, I’ll give you that. I just find it funny that people draw the line at consuming a story through reading only because you have to put a little more effort in it.” You bounced back.

Sukuna rubbed his chin. “I remember being into poetry and haikus a lot as a teenager. But I started getting involved in other shit so I lost interest along the way.”

You snap to him, no longer being a silent witness to a passionate kissing scene. “You like poetry?”

“I suppose. I always liked how poets managed to craft thoughts so elegantly. Perfectly describing the complicated or unsaid.”

“You know the local bookstore down the street has a whole section of poetry books. What’s your favorite poets? I could buy you some of their latest work.” Your comforter became a temporary bookmark with your book lying face down.

“Hmm, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I used to buy a bunch of random poetry or haiku books and kept the ones that stuck with me. There is one writer that I really like though...”

You wait in anticipation as you witness him in thought. Simple things like racking his brain makes him a cutie. Sukuna snaps his fingers.

“Ahh, Yosa Takahama is his name. His work is usually written in Japanese but some translators re-publish them in their mother’s tongue. His work is hard to find around here though. I don’t even know how I managed to snag one of his books in the first place.”

Despite the challenge, you were determined to get it for him. “I’ll figure out a way to get you one. That way we could be reading buddies.”

“You don’t have to do all of that, doll. You’ll rip your hair out trying to find those books. I’m fine watching you ignore me in favor of a book that can knock your teeth out.” You chuckle.

During the rest of the night, you noticed the boredom on Sukuna’s face as he mindlessly consumes television. The least you can do is try to hunt down this haiku book for him. Dating him for some time, he confessed to losing touch with so many hobbies he grew up with over the last few years. You wanted to bring that inner child back to life, killed by proving to the world how tough he was.

Getting him to read something that actually interests him can be another way to embrace the innocent pleasures in life. You can tell he misses that wild delinquency some days, but you hope he doesn’t miss it enough to end this relationship over. If you can find it, hopefully it can be a building block that rebuilds his new path after leaving the old behind. Anything to help you be closer to him.

6 weeks later

Sukuna emerges from the bathroom. The odors of the food he cooked from his restaurant today were replaced with standard soap and his natural scent. Like every other night, you sat with your book, seemingly ignoring Sukuna’s lingering stare.

After dressing himself, he sinks on the mattress and attempts to lay against his pillow. His thick neck isn't met with the soft cushion but instead a hard surface in the middle area. He stares at his pillow, offended for it not providing comfort, so he lifts it up. A white hardcover book reveals.

“What’s this?” He asked, not turning to you yet. You shift from the words to your boyfriend’s confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. Maybe the book fairy paid you a visit.” You played dumb.

“You’re so corny.” He holds up the book.

“A corny girl you’ve been dating for almost a year now.”

“Quiet. I’m trying to see what this is.” Sukuna didn’t even examine the title, the pages of the book flutter until he lands on a random page. He reads aloud.

“Vindictive winter / A white, mighty rabbit looks / betrayed by the king / ...wait.” Sukuna looks at you and you copy his shocked expression.

“This is Yosa Takahama’s stuff. How did you even get this? This must have cost you a fortune.”

“It was costly and took me weeks to find a readable copy but the look on your face right now makes it worth it. I wanted you to read with me instead of being a T.V. zombie. Even if that means reading mind fuckery haikus.” You chuckle.

Sukuna grabs your waist from the side and unleashes many wet pecks around your cheek, neck, and upper chest. You giggle as you brush his hair and hug him back.

“I appreciate it.”

“No big deal.” You replicate his cool cat version of “You’re welcome.” that he usually throws at you. Sukuna smirks at the playful imitation.

The rest of the evening is spent with you two lost in your own worlds of literature. Your brains mixed imagination, broadened perspectives, and emotional intelligence from honeyed words inked against the white.

“I’m too big for this tub. You barely have any room to stretch your legs.” Sukuna commented.

He adjusted his position behind you, the bubbles shifting from his large body. Your feet rested on the tip of the tub to keep from smushing against the porcelain. You turn to him, offering a reassuring smile. He snickers at your ridiculous face mask, particularly the cucumbers concealing your eyes.

“No, you’re not. You say that every time you get in with me. You’re fine Kuna, really.”

Sukuna rests his arms around the top edges of the tub, leaning back to make himself comfortable in his slightly cramped soak. The warm water, Epsom salt, and meditation music playing from your phone kneads away the hidden tension that plagues his body from the everyday.

“Before I met you, I haven't taken a bath in almost fifteen years.” He confesses.

“That sounds so disgusting out of context.” You cringe. Sukuna chuckles.

“You know what I mean.”

“I can’t imagine going that long without a bath. Baths are way better than showers.” You admitted.

“Showers are for a quick wash. Baths are more for relaxation.”

“I shower for fifteen minutes minimum, thirty-five minutes max. I spend about three minutes just letting the hot water hit my body and think about whatever. There’s no way I can just shower for ten minutes or less.”

“Is that why you’re so smoking.” Sukuna flirted. You shake your head, “That was so corny, Kuna. C’mon you can flirt better than that.”

“You’re right. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

You two enjoy each other’s company. The heat protects you from winter and the sheet of bubbles float around and pop within. Sukuna arms lay over yours, rubbing over your wrist. Sukuna focuses on your face and develops a sense of mischief.

“Babydoll.”

“Yeah?”

“Turn around for me.”

You quirk a brow but obeyed by slowly turning his way. In a swift motion, Sukuna moves forward and bites off the cucumber sitting on your right eye. Your right vision sees Sukuna munching on your edible eye mask.

“Really, Kuna? You couldn’t resist temptation to eat that?” You scolded. You take off the other cucumber, abandoning your hopes to keep your eyelids nice and fresh. Sukuna steals the other cucumber from your hand and flings it in his mouth.

“You’re impossible to relax with sometimes.”

“Thanks for the snack.” Sukuna mumbles through chewing.

You sigh then lay against his chest and close your eyes. If he was going to interrupt your beauty routine the least he can do is be your pillow.

Sukuna big toe hugs your own after caressing your right foot. Both of your feet poke out from the thick blanket, suffering from the gentle lashes of the nippy air condition. You rest your head on his squishy but firm chest, goosebumps forming from his rough hands brushing your skin.

“We should light the fireplace.” You suggested.

Sukuna let out a lazy sigh, “What you really mean is that I should light it.”

“Yeah, you should.”

“I could but I fear I’ll turn into a popsicle.”

You giggle. “Hey, at least you’ll taste good.”

Sukuna smirks, “I already taste good. You should know out of anyone.”

You playfully shrug. “Eh, you’re alright. No fine dining though.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“How about you taste this then.”

Sukuna leans down and traps your lips in the moment. His lips were smaller than yours yet they managed to govern the heat stirring between each lingering kiss. The frigid air in the room is forgotten in your minds as you and Sukuna make out under the grey blanket. After a couple minutes of sensual touching and lip pulls, Sukuna goes for your neck.

“Well?” Sukuna lands soft bites inches under your chin.

“I was just kidding earlier but that was...”

“Better than fine dining?”

“I don’t know what’s better than fine dining but, yeah, better than that.”

Sukuna chuckles, “Glad to remind you.”

Sukuna “accidentally” lands a hard bite just above your collarbone, caging a pleasured groan within closed lips. Sukuna kisses the forming red patch, “Sorry baby, got a little greedy there.”

“I hope I give you a brain freeze.” You joked, trying to take your mind off the aching spot.

Sukuna hooks his finger around the side of your silk underwear, his other hand slowly appreciates your ass. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Your body slowly rocks on top of him, the yellow and orange from the fireplace illuminate your dips and curves. The aftershocks of your second orgasm calm down, giving you the signal to stop riding him. One hand caresses the trimmed hairs sprinkled across Sukuna’s chest. The other traces the small gold chain decorating his pecs. Sukuna squeezes the body fat from your hips then pats your left butt cheek.

You hop off and lay down on the blanket you set down for your second round. Sukuna pulls off the condom and gets up to throw it away. The contained fire warms your naked body from a distance, defending you from the army of white cold. You hum while the fire entertains you until Sukuna comes back. He’s wearing the boxers he had on earlier with the embroidered knife patterns. Where he got those kinds of boxers you may never know.

Sukuna drops the pillow he stole from the couch then sits down on the blanket. He pulls you towards him and you two lie down together. You perform his signature trait, pushing his hair back, enabling his wild look. Sukuna traces your spine, quietly admiring both how strong and weak one’s bone structure could be.

“I never thought I would enjoy silly things like sitting in front of a fireplace during winter.”

“It’s silly?”

“Not really. I guess I just associated this with Christmas activities. Christmas always seemed too cheesy to me so I associated things like this as silly holiday stuff.”

“Yeah, I get it. Sex in front of the fireplace, just silly wholesome Christmas activities.” You joked. You instantly felt Sukuna’s laughter rumble throughout his chest. After calming down he gives your arm a light pinch.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m just happy you allowed me to bring some mellow in your life. I remember when I met you, you were always in some crazy illegal trouble. It seemed like I could barely keep up with you and your fast-paced lifestyle.”

“Yeah, it was fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even getting caught had some sort of thrill. Now that I’m pushing thirty, I just feel over it.”

You chuckle, “Not a spring chicken as you used to be.”

“Yeah. I suppose every hot shot has their limit.”

“Well, I’m proud that you’re beginning to settle down. I know your brother is too.” You rub his cheek.

“I was surprised when he offered to help me set up my fight clubhouse. He’s usually against violence and shit.”

“Maybe he thought that it would be a nice distraction from your life with crime. Even if it meant supporting you doing something he also doesn’t like. Like a lesser of two evils kind of thing.”

“I never knew someone so predictable yet unpredictable at the same time more than him.” Sukuna said. You giggle then sprawl your hands across Sukuna’s abdomen, trailing over the ridges in a playful matter. Sukuna tender gaze studies your features as he softly pulls little cushions of your skin.

“Thank you for sticking with me.”

You look up to see the wild orange shadowing his strong features. His usual too cool-for-school attitude was replaced with a loving nature only reserved for you. A nature molded by small, seemingly insignificant moments sparked by a mutual agreement of casual dating. You plant a few kisses against his jawline then lay back on his chest.

Before your eyes close for the night, you slur a few words that gets a smile out of Sukuna. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

#sukuna x reader #no use of y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #a little spicy #quiet time #reading #jin itadori mentioned #sukuna learns that being quiet and cozy ain't so bad

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gemmahale · 9 months ago

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Okay, I'm home, I've been on the road for the better part of 4 hours today due to a miscommunication and a cancelled event, and I've had this rant brewing.

Being Anti-Military and Pro-Veteran are stances that can mutually exist.

Games like CoD and whatever other FPS/Military Simulation game is out there is propaganda. It’s meant to make you want to sign up or support military action.

The military (I’m speaking specifically to the US, as I am most familiar with them by proxy) uses some incredibly underhanded techniques to ensure they have the warm bodies soldiers they need to keep the system working as intended.

This includes but is not limited to: promises of paying for education, aspirations of “seeing the world”, provision of job security, access to healthcare, a stable job and housing, etc. They use things like “patriotism” and “glory” and “security” to lure people in.

And then, when that person is wholly and completely reliant on the military - for a paycheck, housing, healthcare, you name it - they spit them back out into the world with a "thanks a lot and good fucking luck."

Into a world where:

Financial support for care has been axed and axed and axed again under "budget cuts"

Care is secured with red tape so thick you can tightrope walk across it

Care is denied for things the military caused (by saying "it didn't happen while you were serving".) *Yes, that's a direct quote from a doctor to one of Kallen's peers. When assessing a life-altering injury sustained while they were in country overseas, it was deemed as "non-service related injury”.

In comparison to civilians:

Veterans are ~40% more likely to be homeless.

Veterans are ~80% more likely to suffer from untreated mental and physical health issues - PTSD, hearing loss, nerve damage, etc.

Veterans are ~60% more likely to turn to addictive substances - alcohol, drugs, etc.

Veterans are ~70% more likely to commit suicide.

This isn’t limited to combat vets. Logistics specialists, administrative specialists, IT specialists all get screwed when they leave.

Ask just about any veteran that has served, they are incredibly likely to be staunchly anti-military.

The military causes a tremendous amount of damage to every person involved, even if they aren't aware of it at the time.

It’s a cult, it’s an abusive relationship, it’s predatory. Treat it as such.

Support veterans, advocate for their care. They made choices you may not agree with, but they made them because of what they thought the military was offering to them. Many thought they were doing the right thing for their country - that was the lie they were fed from 9/11 on (in the US). Then they were chewed up, spit out, and left for dead by the same people that made all those promises to them.

Here are some US-based, apolitical Veteran Support groups (many have International chapters/members):

22 Until None - 501-C3 that provides support to veterans by veterans. There are local chapters on Facebook that are all active and are listed on the website

Disabled American Veteran - Veteran help association; involved in legislation and local assistance, connections to VA advocates to help navigate the VA

Wounded Warrior Project - 501-C3 charity supporting disabled veterans.

Note: I am absolutely not doing the "not all servicemembers" thing here. I'm saying "veterans are living with their choices, and still deserve access to care."

#gemma rambles #Veteran Care #veteran advocacy #Kallen kvetches #y’all better not come into my inbox acting a fool

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karlachismylife · 10 months ago

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i told myself i'll take a break in my failing attempts to write a couple things on Karlach x Soap in english and go back to writing a couple other things in my first language for the upcoming fandom combat deadline

so here's a thing i wrote instead and it's neither of those :D

Very much inspired by my precious friend that is obsessed with some datesim I know nothing about and talks my ear off about her sexy chinese dudes while I make her listen to me simping for my dead scottish ADHD meow meow. We don't know shit about each other's fandoms but we're so excited for each other... Also excuse me if this idea has already been done (I swear I thought of it on my own, but I will tag anyone who's done this before if you send me a link) + my English writing still sucks.

I also encourage you to check out these smaus, they're brilliant and I somewhat looked at them when wrote Kyle's text messages and this wonderful thing about Ghost and Animal Crossing that also inspired me to look into these silly military men and mobile/video games.

Task force 141 and their reaction to their S/O playing dating simulator games

CW: gn!civilian!reader (if I slipped into one or the other gender somewhere, please tell me & I'll correct), mostly fluff with a bit of spice, pet names, mild cursing, unserious jealousy and banter, long-distance (Gaz), describing nudes and mild sexting (Gaz), soft Ghost, mentioned spanking (Price), mild dom!Price, alluded reader recieveing fingerng and oral (Soap)

Word count: ~5k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

That silly app you downloaded because its (very compelling) ads were repeatedly shoved in your face became surprisingly convenient when Gaz got deployed and wasn't within reach for weeks. A slightly clay-looking guy on your screen didn't hold up in comparison to the smoothest bastard sergeant with the tightest grip on your heart, but a cute feature with app notifications stylized as loving text messages from the virtual boyfriend somehow helped cope with the radio silence from Kyle. You knew he would be fine, how could he not? You gave him a very proper goodbye kiss (and goodbye sex that was a bit more improper) for luck, and he was too damn good at his job to fail. You weren't going insane from worry, at least not more than usually.

But the loneliness, the fucking loneliness was a little bit more bearable when you still got your "good morning beautiful xx" and "thinking about you before bed" even though the font was wacky and some phrases were clearly poorly google translated. To unlock these little snippets you opened the app every day, usually tapping mindlessly on all the required interactions before going to sleep and eyeing some of the ingame wardrobe options that wouldn't work too bad on your man. In fact, you even took a screenshot of a nice suit - if tailored right, Kyle would look in it sharper than the tactical knife he knew so well. You just needed an opportunity to show it to him.

And the opportunity barged in with a sudden surge of texts right when you were already getting ready for some shut-eye.

Three weeks of muffled unease wiped out and replaced with that never-tiring giddy feeling bubbling inside as soon as you saw Kyle's name pop up on top of your screen.

"hi baby"

"finally can text, miss you terribly 😘"

"what are you up to angel?"

You could feel your own cheeks strain with the stupid smile plastered on your face. No doubt, Kyle texted you at the first opportunity - he was there, he was okay and he missed you. All sleepiness in your body withered away, leaving you energized at eleven pm, squirming in your bed as you rolled over to start vigorously typing back. You never knew how much time you both have to chat, unstable signal or simply never-ending duty could interrupt you at any given moment, so you had to get your fill of premium class Garrick right there and then - no matter how drowsy it would make you the next morning.

Eventually you sent him the screenshot you took without second thoughts:

"btw thought you'd look good in smth like this baby, what do you think?"

Instead of a normal reply on the topic, though, you recieved an immediate jab followed by short pause:

"the fuck is that baby? 🤣"

"wait i think i know"

"replacing me with a vr boyfriend already? jesus fuck angel i haven't been away even for a month"

"i'm wounded, truly. he doesn't even look that good and can't spell correctly. what a downgrade 😔"

If only you could communicate the muscle-straining eyeroll you had through text. Chuckling and snorting, you immediately came to defence of your pixel prince charming, simply for the sake of it.

"how dare you. he's not a mere replacement, this is true love, garrick 💕🥰❤️✨"

"look at the top, we're already level 29 intimacy"

"gonna get him to send me nudes soon, they unlock at lvl 30"

Gaz could probably hear your bratty giggles on the other side of the globe, sheets rustling as you wiggled in your bed, absolutely proud of your impeccably fine-tuned wit and properly excited for the upcoming smartass comeback, since Kyle would rather die than let you have a win. But you've already calmed down with your cheeks mildly flushed, and the messages were still left on read.

Weird. It wasn't the first time your chatting ended abruptly, but usually Kyle had time at least to tell you he had to go - maybe even exchange little "ily"s. Did the signal cut off? But it was good enough for him to download a picture even, surely he'd notice if it started lagging and tell you. Did something bad happen? An emergency? An ambush?

A slight frown etched in your face as you started unwillingly thinking of the worst. Then - in a moment - that little green circle signaling Gaz was online came back. And still no answer.

Did he... get actually upset? Over a fucking datesim app?

It was hard to believe. Impossible, even. Kyle was never prone to jealosy fits, smug bastard definitely knew how secure you two were. But maybe... maybe it was the fact that you were seeking comfort he couldn't provide? Being told you needed a whole ass app simply to tell you goodnight while he was god knows where, unable to hold you and cuddle you to sleep - that could sting.

Shit, you shouldn't have started this. Gaz wouldn't outright admit he felt even the slightest bit insecure over an unblinking 3D monstrosity with a sexy Korean voice. He'd think it was stupid - and he would be right, frankly, but in this case this wasn't completely unreasonable.

Already anxious, you put your thumbs back on the phone to type out a careful question, but before you could even think of a right way to formulate it the chat chirped and loaded in a bunch of attachments.

Absolutely scandalous. Hastly unndone uniform, sweaty shirt pulled up and - you knew it even if it was outside the frame - clutched in his teeth, bared in a self-assured smirk, belt unbuckled and hanging from the loops of pants pulled down just a bit; just enough for his hand to slip inside and gather into a delicious grasp around the bulge you knew was straining against his boxers. Fucking tease, pulling the elastic band with his thumb to let you see just the base of his cock - you had to swipe several mouth-watering closeups on his chest, v-line beautifully adorned with dark hair and that bloody hand you already ached to feel on your thigh, before you finally got your reward. Hard just from the thought of you, tip glistening with the pre-cum he definitely smeared all over specifically for that picture.

"wanted to ask if your pixel bf can beat these"

"but i think your silence already says enough 😏"

You groaned, belly warm with the familiar longing. What an angel of a man, finding time to somehow snap packs of perfect nudes in the middle of wherever he was. Already turning over to slide your hand down your body, you sent a very sulking "hate you garrick. first made me worried and now horny, shameless bastard" and got an obligatory "sure you do. i'll fuck that attitude outta you as soon as i get back angel".

Somehow all the need in a virtual replacement vanished after this chat. Not only did Kyle text you more regularly - sensing a competition maybe, huh? - but you also got yourself enough material to be comforted before sleep. Sure, you'd rather have your man there in person, but no perfect-looking anime prince could offer a view better than Kyle's flexed arms or a cheeky sneak peek of his plump ass and a smooth back arch snapped over his shoulder.

No wonder you two threw yourselves at each other when Gaz finally showed up home, tired and a little roghed up, but very much alive and pent up for you. Once you were done relieving some of that frustration and cuddled up after a nice, hot shower, though, Kyle nipped your earlobe teasingly.

"No such level to unlock this experience, huh, angel? Something your app boytoy can't provide."

He caught your arm before you could elbow him playfully and grasped you tighter aroung your waist, using his free hand to get his phone and hold it in front of your face.

"Besides, I think he likes me more."

"How the fuck did you get to level sixty, Garrick?!"

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Twilight was peaking how many years ago? And they still have this stupid choice everywhere."

Simon, the unmoving domestic shadow spread in a comfortable sitting position on your couch for the daily quiet together time, turned his head lazily and gently squeezed your thigh, careful not to disturb your legs thrown over his lap as he leaned a bit closer with a mildly interested "Hm?"

"It's this dating game. They're making me choose between a vampire and a werewolf. Can't think of another conflict for the last decade, really? Why not elves versus orcs? They never make stories about sexy orcs. But there's a market for it! Why stick to the same broken record all the time? Or, I don't know, invent beef between fairies and mermaids!" You huffed in exasperation, waving your phone in a vague gesture meant to express your disdain for the lack of creativity in the supernatural romance visual novels department. Ghost's usual intense stare boring into your face could mean anything - from him silently judging you for lacking respect for the culturally impactful vampries-werewolves feud to a wordless question whether you were in the sexy orc enjoyers market.

But when he finally spoke, scarred lips slightly curled upwards in a hint of an amused smile and eyebrows raised, he asked what seemed to catch his attention much more than what fantasy creature you would like to bang.

"A dating game?" His smirk became more prominent, eyes narrowing as an indicator of him looking for a way to quip in the most unbearable way possible. "What's all that about, love?"

The fact that he didn't know wasn't that surprising, you'd be much more astonished if Ghost did know what a dating simulator game was, but the need to explain still caught you off guard, forcing you to pause with the expressive phone gesturing and actually try and describe the phenomenon.

"Well, it's a mobile game, where you, like... have to play through a story with the main thing being befriending and romancing characters. It's mostly reading a story, really, but you get dialogue options to unlock special scenes with your chosen romantic interest or you can give them gifts..." A stolen glance at Simon told you that he was surprsingly paying attention. "But there's often a plot too. The one I started recently is about, well, vampires and werewolves... a Twilight ripoff, basically, but the player gets to be Bella." You paused, gauging his reaction, but other than his calloused fingers kneading the meat of your thigh Ghost didn't even move, leaving you to look at him with suspicion mixed with amusement. "Want me to show you?.."

Finally, his hand stopped its methodical massaging, only to pat your thigh approvingly and help you sit up, cozily snuggled up to the man whose hoodie you shamelessly stole just to wear around him. Wrapping his muscular arm around you, Ghost leaned his head against yours and prepared for the highly educational lecture on the world full of opportunities to get turned down because of having too low approval with the character.

You showed him the exact story that got you so riled up, explained the quite primitive mechanics behind gaining attraction points with the characters and rehashed the entire plot up to the point where you were stuck now - the one where it was obvious the game wanted you to pick a side. Simon listened carefully, gruff chuckles at some of your grumbling and a lot of very insightful commentary on each and every character ("that one's got Johnny's fucking mighty schnotz" and " 'course he's a fucking twat, look at his bloody necktie, a hemp one would be an improvement on 'im"), inculding your own avatar that you spent considerable time making to look like you wanted.

"That supposed to be you, love?" He didn't even try to mask the snarky tone, and you definitely prepared to be offended. You put so much thought into the character looks! So what if they didn't match your real ones fully? It's the game limitations, not your fault. "Hmph. Maybe good enough for these two muppets to fight over. But I reckon I like my version better. Comes with high-quality visuals."

His arm tightened around your shoulders, pulling you up for a short and sweet kiss, rough thumb stroking your jawline tenderly and pressing up under your chin when Ghost pulled away with a crooked smirk, shattered with scars into an artful mosaic.

"Trying to get your approval higher, sir?" You teased, eyes darting between his smiling - what a view, honestly - eyes and ready to be kissed again lips. His response was predictable. "It's working, innit, love? Think there's enough for a special bonus scene yet?"

Despite you clearly pretending to think and count his imaginary attraction points, Simon already started pulling you up into his lap, holding you securely and running his fingers along the curve of your back. "Might need a little more convincing, gamer. You didn't even bring a special gift to this date." Ghost's half-lidded eyes sparkled with hidden competitevness and his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle as he reached out to take your phone out of your hand softly.

"Gave you the hoodie. It counts." Ignoring your not very convincing protests ("It's mine already, of course it doesn't count!"), he tapped something on your screen and then put the phone away, wrapping his arms back around your form and slowly leaning into a tangled cuddlepile in an almost lying position. All your squirming successfully restrained with a bearhug, you huffed and placed your chin on Ghost's chest, looking up at him. He was there, with you, but deep in his gaze you noticed a certain swrling cloud of thoughts. Reading Simon's eyes was a must with him, he knew you could and didn't ever hide them from you.

"What are you thinking about?" You carefully inquired, running your hands over his shoulders and squeezing gently, a habit helping both of you to ease some tension. Simon blinked, tilting his head slightly, and let out a small sigh, seeking the right words. "You're not playing that game because I'm not doing enough, are you, lovie? 'Cos if you are, I'd rather you tell me what's wrong."

Always straight to the point. At least, when he finally decides to speak up. The big, scary dog worried about a silly mobile game as his competition? Cute. But the seriousness in his eyes called for a proper answer, not a teasing joke or a simple "aww, don't worry".

"You're doing more than enough, Simon, and you know it. It's a game, just living out my fantasies as the main character. But I can delete it if it makes you uncomfortable, it's no big deal, you know?" The tiniest bit of tension you felt underneath your fingertips disappeared, leaving Ghost sinking even further into the couch with you properly wrapped in his protective embrace.

"Nah, gorgeous, you keep playin' whatever shite you wanna be playin'. Just promise to keep me updated on the bloke so I can upstage him in every way." His voice got muffled since he buried his face in your chest, eyes closed peacefully and pure bliss written in all the relaxed features. Cradling his head, you hummed in agreement, but then perked up again.

"Wait, what bloke? You picked one of them for me?" - "Mhm." - "Oh come on, Simon, what happened to the freedom of choice!" You could feel his smile get more prominent despite being hidden in the softness of your chest covered with the thick hoodie material. "Which one did you choose? The vampire 'cause he's wearing all black?"

"Nuh-uh. The other one. The mutt."

You giggled at his choice of words and let out a quiet "oi" when Simon pinched you for disturbing his calm enjoyment of a "bonus scene" with the chosen romance option, that being you.

"Why? You're a Wolf Man fan or something?"

"'f course I am, love. He's British."

Captain John Price

When you saw the notification that the game you got sucked into with the active help of your friends got a "sound update", you knew what that meant - they finally added English voiceover lines for every single hunk of a man you had in your virtual harem, and you couldn't wait to hear what voices they gave your favourites. Given the nature of the game, you decided to put your earbuds on and started listening through the whole voicelines library, busying your hands with mundane tasks like folding laundry. John was sitting in the kitchen, fully immersed into his reading - potentially work-related. Or at least enthralling enough for him to miss your flushed cheeks or periodical giggling.

But no matter how important his reading was, what he couldn't miss was the sultry male voice coming out of your phone with a whispered "Wouldn't you love that, bunny?". Of course the parinig connection between your phone and the wireless earbuds had to get interrupted exactly when you were pouring yourself a cuppa and couldn't even drop the kettle in order to shush the suggestive purring of your digital fave.

You could feel Price staring at you. You could practically hear his bushy eyebrows slowly rising as he patiently waited for you to say something first. You were fully contemplating brewing yourself some poison instead of tea to avoid getting confronted by your man who just heard someone call you bunny on the phone.

So when you didn't start first, John, more amused than anything - he knew you too well to read through all your tiny microreactions and conclude that this wasn't hardcore evidence of an affair, but something much more suitable for future teasing (were you listening to porn or something? a naughty audiobook? oh so many golden opportunities to make you squirm under the steel gaze of the captain) - asked very nonchalantly: "What was that, darling?"

"What?" There was no point in pretending you didn't know what he's talking about, but you still tried. If anything, it allowed you to stall while you very hesitantly turned around and saw John and his smile, not even a hint of sterness in the round plumpness of bearded cheeks and little crow's feet in the corners of his eyes. "What was what, honey? You want some tea too?"

A futile attempt at deflecting and bribery rolled into one. You were lucky you were not his subordinate. You were unlucky the voice of some other man, dripping with mirth, came back into your ear once the next voiceline loaded in and the connection with your earbuds got restored. This was equal to admitting your crimes in front of the judges, but you slowly took your phone out of your pocket and hit pause.

"Does the tea come with an explnation who's the bloke whispering in your pretty ears, bunny? 'Cos if so, I'll take a cuppa, thank you very much."

He was beaming. Leaned back in his chair, knees wide apart and burly arms folded on his chest, Price wanted to have a wee little pause in his serious reading, and watching you squirm was the best distraction and brain-reloading he could ever get.

"I-it's not like that, I promise." Was that a bead of sweat running down your nape? John grunted, cocking an eyebrow and pushing his chin into his chest to stare at you from an angle that best conveyed that "I am not convinced, love" look. "It's just a little game, John, promise. Not a real man, just a made-up character."

Those piercing eyes narrowed even more, silently measuring you up for potentially bullshitting him, and then a heavy hand patted the broad thigh. An order, not an invitation (an order you could always disobey, though...)

"Show me."

Forgetting the option to disobey with little consequences, you hung your head down and dragged yourself and your fresh cuppa over to John, settling in his lap. The tea didn't even make it to the table, he snatched it from your fingers, careful enough not to spill, and sipped loudly, patting your side condescendingly. Any more stalling could result in various stages of burning buttocks, so you complied with the demand without Price repeating himself and opened the app, disconnecting your earbuds in the process.

He clearly wanted to hear that embarassing shit.

Your explanations of what a datesim was seemed to amuse John greatly - knowing his love for farming games, you made sure to mention all the best ones mixing the two genres, clearly trying to sweeten the deal.

"So wha', sum muppet in your phone callin' you bunny and you like 't? Maybe I should start too, huh?" You had to close your eyes to stop the internal screaming, and John's gruff chuckle hit your burning ear with a gentle puff. "But these, erm..." - "Companions." - "Riiight, these companions, they ain't whispering something... naughtier, are they?"

There was a hint of seriousness in his question, so you opened your eyes again and turned to look at him. His face was still smiling calmly, but the expectation was that of an honest and direct answer.

"Well, they do have more explicit scenarios and voicelines..." - "They talkin' dirty to you, eh? Guess I should step up my game." He flexed his jaw and leaned even closer, brushing his slightly chapped lips over the tender shell of your ear, soft beard tickling you and leaving you helpless. "Can't have my sweetheart wooed by sum app game fockers, can I? C'mere you little bunny, Imma show you sumthin' to hop on."

He stood up suddenly, lifting you with a soft grunt and dragging you away from the forgotten phone and empty cup. No amount of "John!" squeaked out could save you from that bear of a man groping your ass before throwing you onto bed and climbing on top. His weight squeezed the air out of your lungs as he roamed his big palmes all over your sweet body, even more enthusiastic about the impromptu break in his work.

"Ugh, fine, Johnathan Price, I won't be listening to the spicy dialogues! Just let me finish my-" Absolutely futile, your plea to get back to housework you had planned got cut short by a deep kiss, John's tongue sliding in your mouth as the most efficient (okay, maybe, second most) gag he could use on you. Your hands, previously pressed against his furry chest in an attempt to push him off, relaxed and buried themselves in his thick hair, ruffliing it and tugging him closer by the strands. A low grunt let you know what you already knew and felt much lower - John fully approved both that and your promise to keep away from the horny digital harem.

"Why even bother with 'em bloody games when you can 'ave the real thing, huh?"

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Whit are ye smiling at there, bonnie?"

Before you could even process the question and come up with any answer (excuse) about the silliest giddy smile that a cutscene in your chosen romance route got out of you, your massive - the only way to not be thrown off by Johny "Can't Sleep Still" MacTavish - bed creaked underneath the impressive weight of a fine Scottish specimen. Like a curious pup, Soap squeezed his head through the loop of your arm, earning himself a choking cuddle in the process, and stared into your screen.

"No, Johnny, piss off! It's personal!" You scrambled to turn your phone away from him and held it to your chest, a traitorous warmth in your cheeks threatening to give away what kind of personal it was. Of course, Soap caught on immediately, playful glint in his eyes as he simply yanked the phone out of your grip and turned over onto his back, shamelessly using you as a pillow while he unlocked your screen (why the fuck were you two so trusting and shared passwords!) and looked at the animated cutscene.

And why did it have to be the first spicy one you finally unlocked?

"What's tha'? Didnae peg ye fur a hentai type, bonnie." Soap watched the looped animation for a few more seconds while you wrestled against his heavy fucking carcass helplessly. With a single tap he closed the cutscene and let out an amused hum when met with the continuation of your unlocked chapter. "Och, so ye're reading smut too? Naughty."

You squirmed visciously, fighting for your dignity as he started reading aloud through the desciption of what didn't make the cutscene. The experience was downright horrible, humiliating and arousing at the same time as Johnny's thick brogue and mocking tone killed every ounce of spice in the steamy scene and somehow added new ones. Along with his stuttering. This lad... you even tried to grab his arm and chew on the meaty muscle in hopes of distracting him, but he didn't even flinch, simply pulling his limb out of your grasp and putting it behind his head comfortably. Outraging.

"Slender aristocratic fingers squeezing supple..." he smacked his lips so loudly that you groaned, "...flesh nae hard enough tae leave marks, but enough tae el... elicit pleasure, his breath hot in yer ear, whispering... Hauld yer horses- how come is yer name 'ere, bonnie? Who's writing this fur ye?" You nearly bounced off the bed when Soap suddenly sat up straight, relieving you from his (quite welcome, to be fair) burden, and frowned at your phone, scrolling through the erotc piece as if he could figure out who was the author just from reading it carefully enough. The pout he turned to you with was nothing short of absolutely heartbreaking. "Who's tha' "Laird Sebastian" prick writing a' kinds of nasty shite he wants tae dae tae ma' leannan? Am ah nae enough fur ye, bonnie? Dae ye wanntae leave me fur some posh bastard wi' a stick so far up his arse tha' it pokes outta his yapper?"

It was so obvious that Soap was just taking the piss, but his bottomless puppy eyes with the longest lashes fluttering as if on the verge of tears were working their dark magic, crashing your train of thought like a whole gang of outlaws from the Wild West and coercing you into making an apologetic expression and reaching your arms pleadingly for a hug. "Aw, come on, Johnny, it's just a-"

"Ah dinnae think tis a good idea, love. Ah dinnae have slender aristocratic fingers, wha' if a'm awful lot o' a commoner tae yer tastes..." Soap tilted his chin up, a perfect depiction of dignity suffering horrible offence, and turned away defiently, immediately peeking back at you from the corner of his twinkling blue eye. You knew those little smiling creases too well to miss them forming despite him holding a pout quite successfully, so you scoffed, still slightly flushed from being caught red-handed, and rolled your eyes, snuggling up to Johnny from behind and starting to kiss behind his ear.

"I'm so, so sorry, love of my life. No posh bastards come nowhere near you, you're my favourite commoner. Fuck Lord Sebastian-" You realized you chose the wrong wording when Soap couldn't hold back a snort. "Aye, well, seems lik' ye were planning on doing exactly tha-" - "Oh shut the fuck up, MacTavish!"

Shut the fuck up he did, turning back to face you abruptly and tackling you into the sheets, lavishing kisses with his searing hot lips all over your face. A real mutt pouncing the handler he has no respect and all the love for. There was no choice left for you other than wrap all your limbs around Soap and writhe underneath him, nearly missing that very inconspicuous way he reached his arm out and dropped your phone on the nightstand before cradling your head for much deeper, sloppier kisses.

"Gonna show tha' laird sod how tae fuck mah bonnie real good, aye? Mak' ye come wi' thae fingers right 'ere, nae aristocrat bullshit." Lapping up your neck with his wet tongue, Soap planted a greedy kiss right underneath your jaw and sucked at the soft skin until it showed a little pinkish hue. The bastard was set on making you sing for him, big rough palms grabbing handfuls of your flesh, squeezing and massaging while Johnny kept decending down your body with clear determination. "C'mon, leannan, let me hear ye. Say yer ol' Johnny's better than tha' bawbag Sebastian."

Sliding your hands over his broad shoulders, you held his nape before tugging on his slightly outgrown mohawk, your own head falling backwards in an exhausted yet adoring sigh.

"You know it's just a game, right, loverboy? A dating simulator, not a real thing? Oi, watch it!" A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Soap chomped on your side and immediately nuzzled into your stomach to blow raspberries into the soft plush, catching you once you started squirming and giggling. No intention of letting you catch your breath until he heard what he wanted. "Fine! Fine, Johnny, you are so, so much better than Lord Sebastian."

Satisfied, he loosened his grasp on you and lifted his head, grinning like he's just won you over from somene actually threatening in terms of romance. Hooked his fingers into your housewear bottoms, slowly tugged them down and started trailing hot-mouthed kisses down from your solar plexus, sky blue eyes glazing over with the never-satiated hunger for your taste on his greedy tongue.

You held your breath. A joke was itching inside your mouth, begging to be let out, dancing on the tip of your tongue...

"You're lucky I didn't choose Duke Aaron's route. That's some serious competion."

"Och, away 'n bile yer heid, bonnie!"

Thank you for reading! I appreciate all interactions, likes, reblogs, comments and requests (send in anything for now! I can filter them myself, but I am open to smut, including rare kinks and some dark themes. Keep in mind though that I am limited by my skill & overall prefer sugary fluff. I will write for any of the task force 141 and baldur's gate characters, including parings, poly, x reader and x OC), I will write drabbles, headcanons and whatever else formats you can think of.

Also any corrections are welcome as long as you're not being mean! Thank you <3

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dare-to-dm · 1 year ago

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I get a little miffed when I see people criticizing common scenarios in games like D&D such as killing bandits for being "violent" or "problematic" and suggesting that people can/should play D&D in a more non-violent way.

I agree that it is very possible to do and I'm cool with people playing games they own however they want to. But the reality is that most of D&D's mechanics were designed specifically with combat in mind. You look at any given class, and that's what the bulk of their abilities are for. For pretty much everything else, you have a "skills" system that functions, but is not developed with much depth. Most of the toys you get to play with are there to simulate fantasy violence. And part of the fantasy in such a game is that you can solve problems, save the day and be a hero with violence. Enjoying that fantasy doesn't make you a bad person, and if you don't enjoy that fantasy, you might be better served playing a game with a different design philosophy and priorities.

For comparison, imagine it's a hot summer day and you're watching some kids play outside. It's your job to keep them entertained, healthy and safe. So you want them to play a game that's going to get them physically active, have fun and cool off.

So you set out a big bin of water balloons and super soakers and a hose and tell them they should all get wet. If those kids pick up the super soakers and the water balloons and start shooting each other and playing war, it would be weird of you to then chastise them for simulating violence. After all, that's basically what those toys are explicitly designed to do. And sure, you could explain to the kids that they could instead choose to spray themselves with the hose or pop the balloons by sitting on them or whatever. There are definitely possible ways to use those toys that don't involve pretending to be violent. But if that's such a dealbreaker for you, you probably shouldn't have bought those toys in the first place. Like, you could have set up a sprinkler or a Slip'n'Slide or an inflatable pool instead. Choose the toys/the game that's designed for what you want.

And don't assume that just because I would relish taking someone out "execution style" with a super soaker that I would approve of the same thing in a non pretend situation.

#to clear I'm not advocating for murder hobo behavior here #but people playing D&D and having fun killing NPCs and monsters is people engaging with the source material as intended #they're not wrong for not going out of their way to play it in a different fashion #RPGs

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delta-orionis · 4 months ago

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deep processing layer acts a lot like an "organic algorithm" based off the patterns, and I think slime molds could be a good comparison alongside the conways game of life and bacterial colony simulations. either way, its like a math process but organic...

Oh yeah definitely. It could be a massive array of bioluminescent microorganisms that behave very similar to a cellular automaton, or a similar "organic algorithm" like you said.

(Left: Deep Processing, Right: Conway's Game of Life)

Slime molds in particular use a method called heuristics to "search" for an optimal solution. It may not be the "best" solution, but often it can come close. One of the most commonly cited examples of using slime molds in this way is in the optimization of transit systems:

Physarum polycephalum network grown in a period of 26 hours (6 stages shown) to simulate greater Tokyo's rail network (Wikipedia)

Another type of computing based on biology are neural networks, a type of machine learning. The models are based on the way neurons are arranged in the brain- mathematical nodes are connected in layers the same way neurons are connected by synapses.

[1] [2]

I know very little about this form of computation (the most I know about it is from the first few chapters of How to Create a Mind by Ray Kurzweil, a very good book about artificial intelligence which I should probably finish reading at some point), but I imagine the cognitive structure of iterators is arranged in a very similar way.

I personally think that the neuronal structure of iterators closely resembles networks of fungal mycelia, which can transmit electrical signals similar to networks of neurons. The connections between their different components might resemble a mycorrhizal network, the connections between fungal mycelia and plant roots.

Iterators, being huge bio-mechanical computers, probably use some combination of the above, in addition to more traditional computing methods.

Anyway... this ask did lead to me looking at the wikipedia articles for a couple of different cellular automata, and this one looks a LOT like the memory conflux lattices...

#asks #twisting-roads #just spitballing here. enjoy my rambling #rw lore

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psychotrenny · 2 days ago

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The Millennium Challenge 2002 was a very revealing insight into the weakness of the US military apparatus and the fact that its results are public knowledge is very encouraging to enemies of USAmerican Imperialism. Also referred to as MC02, it was basically a massive US military exercise that simulated US intervention in a fictional nation in the Persian Gulf. The anti-US forces were most prominently led by a retired Marine Corp Lieutenant General named Paul Van Riper, who effectively used asymmetric warfare to repeatedly defeat the materially superior US until an absurd and crippling amount of restrictions were placed on him. Some of these might be justified by Van Riper exploiting the limits of the simulation in unrealistic ways (i.e. banning him from using teleporting suicide boats on US carriers), but others (i.e. forcing him to put Anti-Air assets in exposed positions) were just plain silly. It got to the point that Van Riper resigned mid game, saying that the end state was scripted. In the end US forces "won" the exercise, but not in a meaningful way

Now the conflict simulated by MC02 has recently been compared to a contemporary war between the US and Iran but that comparison isn't quite accurate; "Red" nation was as much Iraq as it was Iran, the main antagonist of the wargame was a parastate actor named "CJTF-South" rather than a regular state military and all this happened two decades ago during a significantly different global military situation. But all this means that the conflict in MC02 was actually more favourable to the US than a current war with Iran. The regular state military of Iran is a greater foe than some part-Iraqi renegade while the gap between US and Iranian military power has narrowed significantly; Iran has greatly strengthened itself in the last 2 decades (even according to the nation's enemies) while recent US performance indicates that if anything their military has weakened.

And while MC02 was a political exercise more than a military one, the military aspects still reflected the US Department of Defence's own honest estimates. Given the timing and subject matter, MC02 was clearly a preparation for the Bush regime's planned interventions in West Asia. But as demonstrated by the high command's desire for a simulated win at the cost of the actual simulation, the main purpose wasn't to actually evaluate the preparedness of the US military for such a conflict and enact any necessary change. Significant reforms would be time consuming and could disrupt some very comfortable business arrangements. It was an exercise in affirmation, showing that the US military could win in "The Middle East" and it could win right now.

However, most of the actual participants tried to treat it as a legitimate training exercise. The actual strength of the US military, as well as their most accurate estimates for the strength of their foes in the region, must have been used and whatever simulational models were employed must have seemed accurate enough to experienced US military officers. The fact that the wargame even produced unwanted results in the first place indicates that it at least started as an honest estimation of US military capabilities in comparison to their West Asian foes. And in that most honest form, the estimation was not an encouraging one for the US.

It's also incredibly damning that the results of this simulation were casually disregarded. Because it wasn't some casual exercise; it took two years of planning, involved over 13,000 soldiers and by the end cost $250 million USD (worth about $447 million today). All in an effort to reinforce the validity of current US doctrine and its ability to beat the nation's prospective military targets that didn't even succeed because they blatantly cheated to reach the desired result. An expensive fiasco where anything worth learning was tossed away out of arrogance and dogmatism and entrenched private interests. And the following decades do not indicate that the US military has changed since then. Indeed, the contemporary resonance of this military exercise from over 2 decades ago demonstrates just how pathetically stagnant the US war machine is.

The Millennium Challenge 2002 tried to prove that the US Empire was a Tiger, but instead revealed it to be made of paper

#stella speaks

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happyartful · 23 days ago

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If Aladdin is racist, why aren't the Gerudo?

So, I have a question for gamers and Zelda fans... Why haven't I seen ANY criticism for the Gerudo? Look, I'm white as mayonnaise, but even I can recognize that the Gerudo are very clearly stereotypes of the "Exotic Woman" and "Roguish Romani" tropes, having westernized and monolithic motifs of Romani, Arab, and Egyptian cultures, as well as racist traits associated with those cultures such as their worship of evil dieties, theiving nature, and sultry clothing.

For comparison, Aladdin is often (justifyably) criticized for some of the same exact racist problems that the Gerudo possess, but there's radio silence for the Gerudo. They both represent anti-brown tropes, biases, and caricatures, yet only one is talked about. You can even see the direct visual similarities in the photos I attached.

There's been an uprise in criticism for outdated and problematic media (justifyably so), including in video games, but the one game series I consistently see being left out of this conversation is the Zelda franchise. To be fair, The Legend of Zelda is FAR less problematic than some other video games (*cough* Yandere Simulator *cough*), but that doesn't mean it should be exempt from ANY criticism of it's more problematic aspects, especially since the issue of the Gerudo is the absolute more blaringly obvious example.

It seems so clear to me but, at the same time, I've not seen a single video, forum, blog post, reddit post, etc. talking about it. I haven't even seen any brown people discussing it. So, am I just being a dumb SJW? Is this not as big of a problem as I think it is? Are the Gerudo truly unproblematic? Can I please get some outside opinions on this?

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drowned-cypress · 2 months ago

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I love your interpretations of AL-AN! What are your thoughts on how AL-AN speaks / communicates?

I imagine AL-AN as very very intelligent... to a point where he has to cut down everything he thinks. Not quite because he thinks lower of others intelligence, but moreso that Precursor thoughts are beyond anything that can be captured in language or communication. So everything he says isn't what he means, but rather whatever is close enough.

It does go the same way for him however, he can't quite fully understand whats going on as much as he learns about it, giving him a bit of obliviousness. Sort of like trying to imagine the viewpoint of a second-dimensional creature - We can make comparisons and simulations and come very close, but we'll never truly know, and likewise he will never truly know what humans experience even if he observes it.

Okay, okay, thoughts on Al-An speaking and communicating. So English isn't Al-An's first language. In fact, I'm not sure he has a first language. Architects are telepathic. They probably don't need to use words to communicate, they just transmit their thoughts directly using whole concepts. Using language adds an extra step he doesn't normally need.

Architects do have a written language, but I figure that's either a product from before they built a species-wide network to store all their information, or it's a programming language, for communicating with machines. Probably both. Either way, I don't think it involves using words as representations of sound. I think it's more like hieroglyphics, where each symbol or group of symbols represents a concept. It wouldn't be possible to read the Architect language aloud.

So Al-An using verbal language to communicate feels to him like he's writing something rather than doing his version of speaking.

He does have a couple of interesting verbal patterns though. He always uses a lot of overly complicated words instead of simple words (they are more precise, he protests!) like he downloaded a dictionary and then started using all the words in it regardless of how commonly they get used in actual everyday speech. This is fine with Robin because she has a PhD, and you don't get that far into college without having a good vocabulary, but it does make it difficult for fic writers sometimes (don't look at my thesaurus history!) He also never, not once, uses a contraction in the game (I checked.) It's always 'do not' instead of 'don't,' or 'I am' instead of 'I'm.' This may in fact be because he downloaded the dictionary and only knew how to use vocabulary contained in it. This is great because it provides an interesting tonal contrast every time he talks to Robin.

Also, when and how did he learn English exactly? I figure he couldn't have been completely cut off from the outside world in that cube. Sensory deprivation for a thousand years while still conscious the whole time would be hard on any species, no matter how advanced. It might be moreso for Architects because they're used to being connected to the network at all times, which is probably a lot of sensory stimulation. Anyway, the storage cube has to have sensory input from the outside world because if it didn't, he wouldn't be able to hear Robin when she talks aloud in the storage sanctuary. But I figure his cube also had access to transmissions, possibly even interstellar transmissions. How else would he begin to suspect that Alterra's motivations didn't align with his own?

Furthermore, we know that humans have been in space--even in the local area of space--for a long time (relatively speaking.) According to the wiki, the wreck of the Mercury II is anywhere between 30 and 100 years old. (Also, fun fact, there's a data download that indicates the crew of the Mercury II intercepted Al-An's distress signal. He's been asking for help for at least 30 years, minimum.) Al-An could have been intercepting signals and trying to figure out what they mean for just as long.

Oh, speaking of Al-An's distress signal, it's actually Morse code. The specific pattern he uses is SOS, an internationally agreed upon pattern to indicate distress, usually used by ships. How the hell did he know how to use that? I figure he has to have learned it from somewhere. Maybe human spacecraft continued using SOS as a basic distress signal even in space. Think about how many ships must have been shot down over the years by the quarantine enforcement platform that was only necessary because of Al-An's mistake, and how many survivors tried to send an SOS signal out because they had no other communication methods left to them. Think about Al-An intercepting those signals and wondering what they meant even as the signals all faded as their senders slowly succumbed to the deadly bacterium that he was responsible for accidentally releasing into the environment. Think about what he must have felt when he realized what the signals meant. Think about how he must have felt when he realized he needed to use it himself if he wanted to survive. Yeah.

But on the topic of interstellar transmissions and how Al-An learned English, it's entirely possible he intercepted all those transmissions with no context and had to reverse engineer the entire concept of a verbal language. It's also possible he received transmissions in multiple languages and had to separate them out. He might be able to speak multiple human languages as a result. He's probably been sitting in that storage cube puzzling over these weird transmissions for decades! He's been doing amazing anthropology science on them! And then Robin comes along and he's able to actually use what he learned! He's doing such a good job at communicating! He's going to get a good grade in Human!

And then because he's pragmatic he went and downloaded all of Robin's PDA data, including the dictionary that would inevitably need to be built into the AI program.

But yeah, I think he finds language as a concept very limiting. It's limiting for us too though, we just don't really think about it all that often. Language is always, always an approximation. We cannot transmit thoughts directly, we can only use symbols, metaphor, simile. Words themselves are symbolic of the concepts they represent. So it's not so much that Precursor thoughts are beyond anything that can be captured in language or communication as it is that verbal and symbolic language and communication are simply inadequate for capturing thoughts, no matter the species. But we're used to it and Al-An isn't, so he struggles with it more.

The same thing also applies to Al-An's ability to take the perspective of humans. If you really stop to think about it, nobody can ever truly understand another person fully, not even other humans, simply because it's impossible for us to experience other people's experiences. Even if we did experience other people's experiences, it's still possible we wouldn't know what to make of what we found. People have different sensory perceptions. Some people have four retinal cones in their eyes instead of the usual three. Some people have synesthesia and can taste colors. If anything, Al-An has an advantage; not only is his species telepathic, but he's also experiencing Robin's sensory perceptions directly. He might not know what to make of those sensory perceptions, especially since he's used to different sensory organs, but he still probably understands Robin better than just about anyone. His problem, and the reason why he's so oblivious sometimes, is that he lacks context for a lot of the stuff Robin says and does.

Like, think about it. His culture has incredibly different social conventions. He spent his entire life in a pseudo-hivemind where all information, including thoughts, emotions, perceptions, and factual data, were shared freely across his entire species. He's going to have a hard time with empathy and perspective taking because he's never had to do it before; he's always just been handed the information directly. He doesn't have that kind of link with Robin. He can't actually read her mind, or else he would have no need to ask her questions. The best link he has with Robin is her sensory perceptions, which give him clues about her thoughts and emotions, but still require him to guess.

But guessing is hard if you don't have any practice. He's also missing a lot of information about human culture. He's never seen a movie. He doesn't know what a meme is. He doesn't even understand the concept of sarcasm because telling falsehoods, even obvious ones for rhetorical effect, is simply not something Architects do. A lot of humor is going to be beyond him simply because he's never heard of any of the things it's referencing. He's missing sooo much context! An entire species' worth of context! That's why he comes across as oblivious or tone-deaf sometimes. The good news is, that means he has the ability to learn. It'll just be difficult for him. He will struggle. That struggle is honestly part of his appeal as a character.

#Subnautica #Subnautica Below Zero #SBZ #al-an #robin ayou #subnautica architects #analysis #long post #ergolost #asks #yelling into the void #and the void yells back #I had to stop myself from continuing to ramble #I nearly went off on a tangent about the datapad and datapad AI #and a tangent about neuroscience and how Al-An could be able to access the datapad while in Robin's brain

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