#I think calling it plagiarism is too far

[beomiracles]

how do you feel that someone copied you? basically took your beginning paragraph and changed a bit to make it seem like it’s different. just thought you should know. (talking about your big event with other writers)

I honestly don't feel like they're the same at all! sure there are similarities for certain but me and Rei have already talked and it's not something I'm upset about <3 if anything it's an honour to be able to inspire others !

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

[hanasnx]

P-LINKS! — batboys.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: must be logged in to twitter on browser/app to view these. otherwise it’ll say link not found | important note: mostly white people in these links i think. i’m still new to this & don’t follow a lot of accs, if you could rec me your fave poc main accs i’d be very grateful. WARNINGS: twitter porn nsfw links �� hetero porn ノ fem reader ノ unprotected sex ノ size kink ノ titty sucking ノ daddy kink ノ oral ノ handjob ノ vaginal fingering ノsex tape mention ノ leash use ノ hair pulling ノ creampie ノ objectification.

˗ˏˋ꒰ CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER ꒱

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON !

◈ he’ll do whatever it takes to get the right angle, even if it means making you feel like a little fuck doll ◈ kitty so good he can’t keep his hands off himself ◈ the video he watches the morning after ◈ fucking your panties while you still wear ‘em because you came too quick ◈ after he sweet talks you coming down from a bad argument ◈ it’s hard to keep you looking at the camera

ᯓ★ JASON TODD !

◈ late night booty call turns into a lethal mating press ◈ can barely get halfway in, and bottoming out straightens your spine ◈ playing the arkham knight’s fuck pet ◈ 6’11!jason reminding you his dick is proportionate to his massive body ◈ how he likes to kiss even though he’s balls deep ◈ what you look at in your camera roll when you miss 6’11!jason

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE !

◈ playing with his favorite titties to encourage you to keep riding even if it hurts ◈ inviting him over to study for your morning class but neither of you get far ◈ you right after he tells you the little sounds you make are so pitchy ◈ what happens when you tell each other you’ll be gentle this time ◈ making music together ◈ dining from the back because he wants to taste your asshole too

ᯓ★ TERRY McGINNIS !

◈ the only way he knows how to eat pussy is to make out with it ◈ gotta mount you when he fills you with his cum, makes you take it better ◈ showing him you can do it all by yourself ◈ he just knows how to hit your off switch ◈ after he smooth talks his way back into your bed even though he stood you up last night playing batman ◈ fucking the cum out of him

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[marvelstan0905]

Helloooo can you please write one where Ken is just stressed his practices and barely has time with reader and their baby girl so reader surprises him by taking their bby to watch hin practice and the entire time their baby is just giggling and cheering him on?

"Sunshine in the dark"

Husband!Kenji Sato X Wife!Reader [Oneshot]

TW : petnames/fluff/mentions of overwhelm, sadness and guilt/Emi mention/Kenji's mom mention/not proofread yet/mixed POV

Note : Here you go! Hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the love and support!❤���

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

Swing. Strike. Swing. Strike again. At this point Kenji had been out more times than he could count. His head was everywhere and he felt like he was pulled in numerous directions. The guilt and overwhelming feelings that drowned him where far too immense for Kenji. He couldn't even think of a time when he spent a full day, a whole 24 hours with his wife and beautiful baby girl, d/n. Kenji's little princess was so small, just months old and his mind was eating him for not being there for every single moment of her growth. That was only the cherry on the cake. His mother was still not found. All this Ultraman stuff was dragging him further down. Kaiju alerts left and right. Even if Emi was in a far better place and with her birth mom, Kenji couldn't help but worry from time. That was his baby as well. Then his passion, a reason for a smile on his face was going downhill as well. Baseball, God. Kenji felt like he was sleeping on the field. He was losing plays left and right. He couldn't get much sleep because of his own worrying and the Kaiju alerts which were increasing day by day. Along with that, he was doing his best to be a good husband and father. Trying to change and feed the baby at night, help his wife so she can rest as well but it felt like he was more of a problem than solution to his family.

"Goddammit! You're Ken Sato! The Ken Sato! Hit the ball! Hit the ball!" Kenji roared in frustration as he slammed the bat into the ground before picking it up. As the simulation of an old ball park surrounded Kenji, another ball was picthed and he missed once again. In complete frustration he slammed his knee into the bat. Instantly regretting it, he groaned from the pain and grumbled. "Of course. You're being so stupid, Kenji"

"Go Kenji!"

"You can do it, sweetheart! Just breathe!"

"Dada!"

Kenji immediately whipped his heads towards the stands to his beautiful wife, his daughter and his mother. All three of his favorite girls. Even if one was a simulation. It made Kenji's heart skip a beat and flutter in happiness. His baby daughter, sat on his wife's lap clapping and giggling. The infant finding joy in just seeing her father. Those little joys even made Kenji's frustration dissipate. Even for a moment. With a grin, you leaned to kiss your daughter's head.

"C'mon, princess. Say 'Go daddy'" I gently coaxed my daughter whiles she cooed and babbled. D/n just clapped and giggled calling out for her father with endless joy. Kenji's eyes brimmed with tears. This small moment, this joy meant the world to him. It was just what he needed. His sunshine in the dark.

Even so the simulation of his mother sitting right next his daughter and wife was all he needed. With a quick wipe to his cheeks, Kenji readied himself.

Batter up. Ichi. Ni. San. Ball!

With all his might, Kenji swung and finally hit the ball. The ball disappeared into the landscape of the simulation as Kenji dropped the bat and felt so refreshed. This small win. This trivial achievement. It was..everything to Kenji. At this very moment, he just needed this.

"YAY! GO KENJI!" I cheered for my husband. The simulation of his mother followed in suite urging him to run. Kenji went towards the stands and picked up his daughter. With a spin around, he peppered her face in kisses before running three bases with her safely tucked in his arms. At the very last stretch, just three quarters in from the third to home base, Kenji put his tiny princess down and held her hands tight. "That's it! You're almost there!"

"Come on, little one. You can make the home run for daddy!" Kenji encouraged his daughter who giggled. D/n held onto her daddy's index fingers and with his support she waddled towards home base. With some falls and babbles on frustration, she finally got there. Kenji couldn't help but think of Emi when his baby daughter finally made the home run.

"Home run! Let's go D/n!" I shouted from the stands. My daughter giggled and smiled brightly not even knowing what she was being praised for. Blissfully unaware of the impact her bright smile had on Kenji. "Well done, baby! You did Kenji!"

"There's my girl! Well done, princess" Kenji praised his tiny girl and picked her up holding her tight and kissing her tiny face. D/n clung to her father and nestled into his affection.

"Thank you." Kenji murmured as his cheek pressed against hus daughter's soft hair. Thank you to his wife, his daughter and..of course his mother. He really needed this.

[writingsbytee]

HE'S NOT YOU - AARON PIERRE X BLACK FEM (AFAB) READER

WARNINGS: 18+; minors don’t interact 

PAIRING: Aaron x Lauren, “Lo” (reader)

SUMMARY: You and Aaron are roommates and he gets jealous when you get hit on by a client. It switches POV’s throughout, so if that’s something you don’t enjoy, this might not be the one for you. 

TROPES: friends to lovers; mutual pining; soft-dom; use of pet names; mostly a lot of dialogue and fluff

WORD COUNT: 3,611

A/N: Ok y’all created a monster! I’ve been hooked reading what everyone’s been writing about Aaron. You guys are so creative! I’m a little sensitive about my writing because I’m just getting into it but I do accept constructive criticism/feedback. Happy reading! Muah <3 p.s. this isn’t proofread.

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

“Lauren?!” Aaron shouts entering your shared condo. He was so excited, Aaron got the call not too long ago that he’d just landed a major project. It's probably the biggest one he’s ever done so far. On his way home to share the good news, he picked up your favorite Indian takeout to celebrate.

Eyes frantically searching the common area, Aaron moved his search deeper into your home. ‘Where is she?’ he thought to himself. Finally, making it to your bedroom door he knocked twice. When he got no response after about 30 seconds he tried twisting the doorknob—the gentle click alerting him that the door was unlocked.  Aaron peeked his head in the door, swiveling from left to right looking for you. 

He could hear the shower now, and your gentle humming some song that you’ve been singing around your home for days. Aaron let out a gentle sigh before retreating out the door. That is before something on your bed caught his eye. Not thinking, Aaron pushed your door open and barged into your room. The black lingerie set with matching garter laid flat on your bed as if it took you all day to find the perfect set. 

Aaron was at war with his emotions. On one hand, he was turned on. The idea of his sweet, innocent Lauren on her knees waiting for him wearing this was almost too much to think about. On the other hand, he was pissed. Who was she wearing this for? Where is she going? Aaron reached out to touch the material. The lace was soft and delicate in his hands like it had been well taken care of.  How was he supposed to even look at you knowing you had this on under your clothes?

Aaron’s attention turned back to your bathroom door as he heard the water shut off. Quickly exiting your room he made it back to the kitchen to start unpacking the dinner he bought for you both. It was getting harder and harder for him to hide his true feelings about you. You both had met right out of college, completely on a whim. Aaron was looking for a roommate and posted an ad online. When you replied, you had no idea what’d be in store for you.

“Aaron you’re home!” You shouted as you made your way into the kitchen. You looked fucking phenomenal in your all-black ensemble. Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off you, figure accentuated in your slacks and button-up. Hair styled impeccably in a messy but neat low bun. Looking like a boss bitch in your power suit had Aaron a bit turned on.

“Don’t tell me you’re meeting a client,” Aaron groaned. He should’ve known that after seeing what you had laid out in the bed. You’re a PR agent for a few celebrities and big-wig politicians but you’d been going back and forth recently with some cocky CEO asshole. He’s been giving you the run-around, pitting you and another agent against each other. When you finally drew your line and decided that the money wasn’t worth it, your client had his team calling you nonstop. 

“Just a quick dinner. Put your shoes on and come with me. I’ll pay for all your drinks,” you persuade batting your eyelashes at him.  How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that?

“Fine but we’re taking my car,” Aaron says. You finally take notice of the dining room. Table set with candles and low lighting. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask as you spin around to look at your roommate.

Aaron takes on a sheepish expression, “I had some good news, and I wanted to celebrate with my best girl.”

Your heart warms at the boyish expression on Aaron’s face. Then you realize what he must be celebrating. 

“Wait! You got the part didn’t you!?”, your heart rate accelerates as your excitement gets the best of you. 

“I got the call today,” Aaron grins, all 32 of those perfect teeth on display. You let out a squeal before launching yourself into his arms. 

You begin to smother his face in kisses. 

“I’m so proud of you! You worked so hard for this opportunity Aaron. This was meant to be! I knew you had it in the bag! You have to come out with me now! We’re going to ‘the Flamingo Room’, it just opened.”

Aaron feels his face warm, “Nah, I don’t want to get in the way. You’re going there for work, not to party”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not taking no for an answer Aaron. If I have to drag your big ass out of here myself you’re coming with me. This meeting should be no longer than an hour, just finalizing a few details in my contract. Please come, I want to celebrate you.”

Aaron looks down at you, a small smirk forming, “How long do I have to freshen up?”

A small squeak leaves your lips as you run towards his room, “Forty-five minutes! Go shower, I’m picking out your outfit!”

A small chuckle leaves Aaron’s lips as he watches you dash down the hall. Tonight is the night, he’d decided. He would finally tell you how he felt about you. You were the first person he wanted to tell his good news to. The first thing on his mind when he woke up and the last thing before bed. How could he not fall in love with you? You’re beautiful, successful, a comedic genius, had a body to die for.  He knows you’d caught him staring at that round plump ass more times than he could count.

Aaron had his hand on your lower back as he led you two into the lounge. 

“If it wasn’t obvious, you look beautiful princess,” Aaron said looking down at you. Your cheeks warmed a shy smile forming on your lips. Doesn’t he know that he can’t say these things to you? You’d been hopelessly in love with your roommate for almost as long as you two had been living together. Did he know that? Obviously not.

“Thanks, big guy,” you say, kissing his cheek and wiping the excess lipgloss off. Aaron loved it when you doted on him like that. He didn’t want you to wipe the gloss off his cheek, he wanted to wear it like a badge of honor.

You flag the bartender giving her your card to start a tab.  “Anything that big guy wants just put it on my tab, thanks gorgeous,” you said winking at the bartender. Not that she noticed, she was too busy staring at Aaron. Not that you can blame her he looks fucking delicious in his all-black ensemble, the semi-sheer button-up being the star of the show. You could see your client waving at you from across the room. Putting a finger up to signal ‘one minute’ you turn to Aaron.

“Ok, I shouldn’t be too long. He’s only getting an hour and fifteen minutes, and then I’m all yours.”

“Mm I like the sound of that, hurry back,” Aaron said smirking over the rim of his glass, which got to him surprisingly fast.

You feel your cheeks warm, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips before muttering a goodbye and heading to your client. You had to get your head on straight, mind turning to mush whenever Aaron was around. In your mind, you decided that you were finally going to tell him how you felt about him. You wanted him like you’d never wanted a man before. Not wanting to disrupt the bond you two already had, but something had to give. 

“Lauren, can you hear me?” Your client said. 

Snapping back to reality you plastered a fake smile. 

“Yes Charlie, I’m listening. Just enjoying the view,” you say glancing toward Aaron again. He looked so fucking sexy leaning against the bar. With his 6’3 frame and impressive build he towers over most people. 

“So have you read over the file I gave you?” you ask taking a sip of the red wine he’d ordered. It was strong and bitter, which wasn’t your taste, but you were being polite. 

“Yeah, everything seems in order. Legal finally agrees with all the changes you’ve proposed. I have it ready to sign”, Charlie says. 

“Great!”, You beam. You could sign and get back to Aaron. You wanted to let loose and have fun, you’d been working nonstop with finalizing your contract and a break is within your reach. After signing, you slid the contract back over to Charlie. You glance back in Aaron’s direction, a small frown forming on your lips as you see the bartender flirting with him. A small huff leaves your lips as you re-focus on your client. 

“So we’ll be spending a lot of time together? You better get used to seeing this ugly mug” Charlie asks with a smirk on his face. Charlie was fine, the best way to describe him would be a Paul Walker doppelgänger. He’s the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and has recently had to have a change in PR firms due to a conflict of interest. 

“Me or someone else from my team at the firm,” you say with an awkward smile. Charlie’s fine that’s not the issue, the issue is standing across the lounge looking like Scar personified. Aaron shoots you a small smirk before mouthing ‘Hurry up!’. You bite your lip to contain your grin, you were so far gone for this man. 

“I’d prefer you if I’m being honest, not too often my PR agent is so easy on the eyes,” Charlie smirks, topping off your glass. 

“Oh Charlie ever the charmer,” you squeeze out a fake laugh. Ok, it was time to end this meeting now.

“Well, if you have no other questions or concerns I have a personal obligation I need to get to”, you say rising slowly. Charlie shoots out of his chair coming to your side to pull the remainder of your chair out. 

“Of course! My driver’s right outside. Walk me out?” He asked offering you his arm. You finish your drink before grabbing your purse and his arm. Leading you two outside. You sneak a glance in Aaron’s direction to see him with an annoyed frown on his face. Charlie guides you the rest of the way out of the club, you two approaching a blacked-out suburban. You spot Charlie’s driver get out to open his door. He stops short turning towards you.

“I look forward to working more closely with you,” Charlie said grabbing my hand. He brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss there. 

You open your mouth to reply but before you can an arm snakes around your waist. 

“Hey, baby you almost finished?” Aaron's voice takes you by surprise as his hand spreads across your hip. 

Your eyes widened as you looked up at your usually gentle giant.

“Just about. Aaron this is my new client Charlie. Charlie this is Aaron, my boyfriend”, the lie slips so easily from your lips. It feels natural. 

“Oh hey man, nice to meet you. I’m a big fan,” Charlie says reaching his hand towards Aaron. They shake and an awkward silence settles among you all. 

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer than I have to. You guys have a good night. Nice to meet you Aaron,” Charlie has a slightly frightened look on his face as he retreats toward his car. We watch him get in and drive away before you spin in Aaron’s arm, an accusing smirk on your face.

“You couldn’t wait five more minutes?” you asked chuckling slightly.

“Nah, motherfucker was getting too handsy. He needed to know his place.”

You were barely paying attention to what he was saying. Aaron’s chest is puffed out, his face in that beautiful scowl you love, and his voice has dropped a pitch. Oh god, he’s hot when he’s being all possessive. 

“What’s the matter? You jealous big guy?”, you ask looking up at him.

Aaron looks down at you, something flashes in his eyes.

“You know what? Yeah, I was getting pretty pissed off at watching him make googly eyes at you and you laugh at all his jokes. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you anymore. You can’t deny our chemistry. When I got the call today, you were the first person I thought of calling. I’m sorry if I jumped in and messed up the end of your deal, I was just tired of seeing him touch you,” Aaron exhales his face softening. 

“I wish you’d told me this sooner. We could’ve been dating by now! I never wanted Charlie Aaron, he’s not you” You laughed launching yourself into his arms. 

“So I take it you feel the same way?”, he’s smirking down at you, gaze lingering on your lips.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. Surprised I didn’t give myself away,” you say rolling your eyes playfully. 

“ I should’ve said something to you sooner, you’re right. I just would rather have you as my friend than nothing at all. Come on let’s go inside, we still need to celebrate”, Aaron places a kiss on the corner of your lips before grabbing your hand and leading you back inside. 

You were on cloud nine. That all happened so quickly that it seemed too good to be true. You forgot who you were dealing with, Aaron is so emotionally intelligent and articulate with his thoughts. Effective communication was such a turn-on for you. You allowed Aaron to lead you inside, turning your brain off.

You loved the fact that Aaron’s a real man, no coaching, no faking, just a real man. He knows how to communicate, he’s thoughtful, caring, and sweet. He never lets you walk on the same side as traffic. Always seem to know what you need before you know it yourself. He’s always been in-tune with you and your emotions and vice versa. 

Aaron’s heart rate hadn’t slowed down yet. He was scared shitless that you were going to reject him. When he saw the way your eyes lit up when he made his confession he didn’t know why he was so scared in the first place. He’s in love with you. Is he going to tell you that now? No, probably not, soon though. Now he’s just going to enjoy the night and hopefully finish it with his face in between your thighs.

You wanted Aaron. Your back pressed against his front as you two danced. Aaron’s hand snaked around your waist pulling you closer, the action making your tummy flutter. 

You spun in his arms taking in the tall drink of water in your arms. “You look so fucking sexy in your outfit. I did a good job”

Aaron tilts his head back, a bark of laughter leaving his lips. “Thank you, princess. I love being dressed by you.”

Your cheeks warmed and a soft smile formed on your face.

“Yeah? you like it when I call you that don’t you baby?” Aaron asks his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. Your mind goes blank, did he just..

“Answer Daddy when he asks you a question princess,” Aaron says his voice taking on that low rattle that does shameful things to your imagination. You look up at him, this Aaron looks completely different from the Aaron you arrived with. Pupils blown wide, eyes the color of a foggy Oregon forest, and his lips partially upturned into a devious smirk. This man looks like sex.

You nod slowly, “Yes Daddy,” you whisper. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the atmosphere in the club but you’d do anything right now to please this man. 

Aaron hums happily, “That’s my good girl. You look so pretty tonight, you wanted us to match huh?”

“Mhm, I love that shirt on you, it brings out your muscles. You couldn’t be sexier if you tried,” you said rubbing your hands up and down his arms. 

“Mmm, trying to sweet talk me, princess?” he asks pulling you closer. You had to crane your neck to look up at him. Even in your heels, your 5’3 frame was dwarfed by his size.  You loved how big he was, but he didn’t show it. His size is a byproduct of his commitment to his health and well-being. 

“Maybe I am. Who can blame me? You’re the most handsome man here, and that’s just looks. Nobody here knows how funny, sweet, caring, emotionally articulate -,” you were abruptly cut off by Aaron pressing his lips to yours.  It was like the world stopped. Of course, you’d imagined kissing Aaron but that was nothing compared to the real thing. His lips are as soft as they look, providing the perfect amount of pressure. A soft whimper leaves your lips as Aaron’s hand grips your waist. Aaron pulled away and you chased his lips drunk on the feeling of kissing him. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he chuckles. You look up at him a little dazed. 

“C’mon baby, let’s get out of here. I’m ready to have you all to myself,” Aaron leads you back to the bar to close out your tab (of course he gave his card to the bartender the minute you turned away) before heading out.

You can feel the charged energy between you both as you leave the lounge. You feel like a kid on Christmas, waiting and waiting for Santa to come and now that he’s here you’re ready to unwrap your present. Aaron opens your door and helps you in, the 3 glasses of wine you had finally catching up to you. You’re not drunk, just a tiny bit buzzed. Butterflies driving monster trucks are roaming around in your belly. You can smell the citrus and sandalwood of Aaron’s cologne and you hum happily.

“You smell so good,” you sigh whimsically.

Aaron reaches across you to buckle you in and chuckles, “Thank you, princess. Let’s get you home yeah?” You nod before leaning up and placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah Daddy, take me home.”

“Fuck, I need you princess,” Aaron groans as he pushes you through the front door with his lips attached to your neck. 

You turn in his arms, deft fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I would rip this off you but, you look so good in it,” you smirk up at him.

“Sweetheart, you’re testing me here. I’m trying to be patient but keep it up and watch what happens,” Aaron said pupils blown so wide his eyes look like a storm cloud. You take your fingers off his top before taking a small step back. Your fingers now coming up to your own blouse. Fingers working through the buttons one by one. 

Aaron leans up against the wall biting his lip as he watches you undress for him. 

“Slower,” he says kicking off his shoes. 

Your blood ran hot, you had no idea how to be sexy. Lacking in sexual experience, your last boyfriend breaking up with you because it, you were now in your head more than ever. Fingers hovering over your third button you begin second guessing yourself. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if you’re not as experienced as he likes?

The negative thoughts start swirling around in your mind so rapidly, you don’t even realize when Aaron makes his way over to you. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours hmm?”, Aaron reaches up to your blouse his hand gently moving yours aside. 

You shake your head avoiding eye contact, “Nothing.”

Aaron grabs your chin tilting your head back to look into his eyes, “Lauren if we do this, I need to know what you’re thinking, and I need you to be honest with me. I’m not here to judge you so tell me. What’s got your face all frowned up?”

“What if I’m not what you expect? When I take my clothes off. You work with models, beautiful actresses. My body doesn’t look like theirs”, you say all your insecurities spilling out. Your hands clasped in front of you wringing them together (a nervous trait you have).

Aaron’s face hardens, he couldn’t believe you’d say those things about yourself. How couldn’t you see how unbelievably sexy you are. Now he was going to have to show you.

“Lo, do you trust me?”, Aaron asks. 

You nod your head giving him a positive answer, “Baby, of course I do.”

A sinister smirk takes over Aaron’s face, “Then be a good girl and go upstairs, take everything off except for your underwear, and wait for me on my bed.”

GOTCHA!!! If y'all want a part 2 PLEASE like and comment. As always constructive critisism is appreciated but, please be gentle.

@simplyzeeka

DIVIDER: @cxrrodedcoffin

[writeriguess]

Stolen Jacket // Sylus x fem!reader

author's note: I’ve written quite a few fics while I was away, and I’ll be publishing them before diving into any new requests. They’re currently written with an OC that’s essentially a self-insert, so I’ll need to convert them into reader inserts first. Honestly, I never thought I’d share them because of the whole plagiarism mess, but I’ve decided to let them see the light of day after all.

Sylus grumbled under his breath as he tightened the final bolt on the engine panel, his red eyes narrowing in concentration. The ship’s maintenance had taken longer than expected, and his nerves were starting to fray. He ran a gloved hand through his messy silver hair, which always seemed to defy gravity no matter how many times he tried to smooth it down. With a sigh, he leaned back on his heels, satisfied that the systems were finally stable.

“Done,” he muttered to no one in particular, shutting the panel with a solid thud.

The ship was unusually quiet. Normally, he could hear you somewhere nearby—talking to the AI, humming softly to yourself, or just bustling about. But now, the silence felt strange. It made his instincts prick, though not out of fear. No, this was something else entirely—curiosity, maybe. Or anticipation.

Standing up and dusting his hands off, Sylus decided to look for you. It wasn’t a big ship; you couldn’t have gone far. He stalked through the corridors with easy strides, his boots echoing faintly against the metal floors. He checked the kitchen first, then the cockpit, but you were nowhere to be found.

When he finally reached the crew quarters, Sylus stopped in his tracks, his red eyes narrowing slightly at the sight before him.

You were standing near his bunk, your back turned to him as you fidgeted with the hem of his jacket—the one he usually wore for missions. It was unmistakably his, the black leather adorned with silver accents and scuffed edges from countless scrapes and close calls. The jacket was too big on you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, the material loose enough to make it look like you were drowning in it.

It wasn’t just the jacket, either. You’d clearly raided his stash, pulling on one of his shirts beneath it. The sight struck him like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, Sylus just stood there, staring.

Something about it felt intimate. His clothes, which had always been a part of his identity, now looked completely different on you. And the fact that you were wearing them so casually, completely unaware of how much it affected him…

Sylus leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest with an almost lazy smirk. “Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. “Is this what you’ve been up to?”

You turned around quickly, startled by his voice, though you tried to recover by flashing him a sheepish smile. “Oh. Uh, I didn’t think you’d be done so soon.”

“Clearly,” he said, his smirk widening as he straightened and walked toward you. His boots thudded softly against the floor, and his crimson eyes glinted with a mischievous light. “And here I thought you hated how this jacket smelled like engine grease and sweat.”

“I never said that!” you protested, clutching the front of the jacket as if to defend yourself.

“No?” He stopped a few feet away from you, tilting his head. His silver hair was as messy as ever, strands falling across his forehead in a way that should’ve looked unkempt but somehow made him even more infuriatingly attractive.

“I just thought…” You hesitated, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. “It was cold, and your jacket was right there, so…”

“Cold, huh?” Sylus’s voice dipped lower, the smirk on his lips softening into something more dangerous. “And the shirt? That part of your ‘cold’ excuse too?”

You opened your mouth to respond but quickly snapped it shut, unsure how to explain yourself without making it worse.

Sylus chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. His gloved fingers reached out to brush against the sleeve of the jacket, his touch light but deliberate. “You don’t have to explain,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I get it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “You… do?”

“Mm.” His crimson gaze swept over you again, lingering on the way the jacket hung on your frame. “Seeing you like this… it’s sexy as hell.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your face at his bluntness. “It’s just a jacket,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

“Not just a jacket,” Sylus countered, his smirk returning as he leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “It’s my jacket. My clothes. And you’re wearing them like you own the place.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his proximity making it impossible to think straight. “If it bothers you, I can take it off—”

“Don’t,” Sylus interrupted, his voice firm as his hand moved to the front of the jacket. His fingers brushed against yours, and his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “I like it.”

The admission was quiet but heavy, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. He tugged lightly on the collar of the jacket, his smirk softening into something warmer, almost tender.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” he murmured, his thumb brushing against the fabric. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you go and do something like this.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Sylus chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “It is to me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of his words hanging between you. Then, with a smirk that was equal parts playful and possessive, Sylus leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear.

“You might want to get used to this,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. “Because I’m not letting you give that jacket back anytime soon.”

[reachartwork]

PLEASE JUST LET ME EXPLAIN REDUX

AI {STILL} ISN'T AN AUTOMATIC COLLAGE MACHINE

I'm not judging anyone for thinking so. The reality is difficult to explain and requires a cursory understanding of complex mathematical concepts - but there's still no plagiarism involved. Find the original thread on twitter here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1809333885056217532

A longpost!

This is a reimagining of the legendary "Please Just Let Me Explain Pt 1" - much like Marvel, I can do nothing but regurgitate my own ideas.

You can read that thread, which covers slightly different ground and is much wordier, here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1564878372185989120

This longpost will; Give you an approximately ELI13 level understanding of how it works Provide mostly appropriate side reading for people who want to learn Look like a corporate presentation

This longpost won't; Debate the ethics of image scraping Valorize NFTs or Cryptocurrency, which are the devil Suck your dick

WHERE DID THIS ALL COME FROM?

The very short, very pithy version of *modern multimodal AI* (that means AI that can turn text into images - multimodal means basically "it can operate on more than one -type- of information") is that we ran an image captioner in reverse.

The process of creating a "model" (the term for the AI's ""brain"", the mathematical representation where the information lives, it's not sentient though!) is necessarily destructive - information about original pictures is not preserved through the training process.

The following is a more in-depth explanation of how exactly the training process works. The entire thing operates off of turning all the images put in it into mush! There's nothing left for it to "memorize". Even if you started with the exact same noise pattern you'd get different results.

SO IF IT'S NOT MEMORIZING, WHAT IS IT DOING?

Great question! It's constructing something called "latent space", which is an internal representation of every concept you can think of and many you can't, and how they all connect to each other both conceptually and visually.

CAN'T IT ONLY MAKE THINGS IT'S SEEN?

Actually, only being able to make things it's seen is sign of a really bad AI! The desired end-goal is a model capable of producing "novel information" (novel meaning "new").

Let's talk about monkey butts and cigarettes again.

BUT I SAW IT DUPLICATE THE MONA LISA!

This is called overfitting, and like I said in the last slide, this is a sign of a bad, poorly trained AI, or one with *too little* data. You especially don't want overfitting in a production model!

To quote myself - "basically there are so so so many versions of the mona lisa/starry night/girl with the pearl earring in the dataset that they didn't deduplicate (intentionally or not) that it goes "too far" in that direction when you try to "drive there" in the latent vector and gets stranded."

Anyway, like I said, this is not a technical overview but a primer for people who are concerned about the AI "cutting and pasting bits of other people's artworks". All the information about how it trains is public knowledge, and it definitely Doesn't Do That.

There are probably some minor inaccuracies and oversimplifications in this thread for the purpose of explaining to people with no background in math, coding, or machine learning. But, generally, I've tried to keep it digestible. I'm now going to eat lunch.

Post Script: This is not a discussion about capitalists using AI to steal your job. You won't find me disagreeing that doing so is evil and to be avoided. I think corporate HQs worldwide should spontaneously be filled with dangerous animals.

Cheers!

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post she made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[vague-humanoid]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/history/2023/05/10/mlk-malcolm-x-playboy-alex-haley/

Jonathan Eig was deep in the Duke University archives researching his new biography of Martin Luther King Jr. when he made an alarming discovery: King’s harshest and most famous criticism of Malcolm X, in which he accused his fellow civil rights leader of “fiery, demagogic oratory,” appears to have been fabricated.

“I think its historic reverberations are huge,” Eig told The Washington Post. “We’ve been teaching people for decades, for generations, that King had this harsh criticism of Malcolm X, and it’s just not true.”

The quote came from a January 1965 Playboy interview with author Alex Haley, a then-43-year-old Black journalist, and was the longest published interview King ever did. Because of the severity of King’s criticism, it has been repeated countless times, cast as a dividing line between King and Malcolm X. The new revelation “shows that King was much more open-minded about Malcolm than we’ve tended to portray him,” Eig said.

Haley’s legacy has been tarnished by accusations of plagiarism and historical inaccuracy in his most famous book, “Roots,” but this latest finding could open up more of his work to criticism, especially “The Autobiography of Malcolm X: As Told to Alex Haley” — released nine months after Malcolm X’s assassination in 1965.

Malcolm X, a member of the Nation of Islam, had frequently attacked King and his commitment to nonviolence, going so far as to call King a “modern Uncle Tom.” But his criticism often had “strategic purposes,” Eig said.

In acting as “a foil” to King, his message had more value to the media. “King saw value in being a foil to Malcolm sometimes, too. But I think at their core they had a lot in common. They certainly shared a lot of the same goals,” Eig said.

Eig, who previously wrote acclaimed biographies of Muhammad Ali and Lou Gehrig, said he found the fabrication in the course of his standard book research for “King: A Life,” due out May 16. When a subject has given a long interview, he’ll look through the archives of the journalist who conducted it, hoping to find notes or tapes with previously unpublished anecdotes.

He did not find a recording of Haley’s interview with King in the Haley archives at Duke, but he did find what appears to be an unedited transcript of the full interview, likely typed by a secretary straight from a recording, Eig said. Eig provided The Post with a copy of the transcript.

On page 60 of the 84-pagedocument, Haley asks, “Dr. King, would you care to comment upon the articulate former Black Muslim, Malcolm X?”

King responds: “I have met Malcolm X, but circumstances didn’t enable me to talk with him for more than a minute. I totally disagree with many of his political and philosophical views, as I understand them. He is very articulate, as you say. I don’t want to seem to sound as if I feel so self-righteous, or absolutist, that I think I have the only truth, the only way. Maybe he does have some of the answer. But I know that I have so often felt that I wished that he would talk less of violence, because I don’t think that violence can solve our problem. And in his litany of expressing the despair of the Negro, without offering a positive, creative approach, I think that he falls into a rut sometimes.”

That is not how King’s response appeared in the published interview. While the top part is nearly identical with the transcript, it ended in Playboy like this: “And in his litany of articulating the despair of the Negro without offering any positive, creative alternative,I feel that Malcolm has done himself and our people a great disservice. Fiery, demagogic oratory in the black ghettos, urging Negroes to arm themselves and prepare to engage in violence, as he has done, can reap nothing but grief.”

Some of the phrases added to King’s answer appear to be taken significantly out of context, while others appear to be fabricated:

@meanmisscharles @russianspacegeckosexparty @ubernegro @that-biracial-geek-girl @redstarovermoundcity

Eig has shared this discovery with a number of King scholars, and the changes “jumped out” to them as “a real fraud,” Eig said. “They’re like, ‘Oh my God, I’ve been teaching that to my students for years,’ and now they have to rethink it,” Eig said.

[yuquinzel]

“hey,”

sae's ears perk up at the call of your voice. it sounds hesitant, almost a little desperate and most definitely defeated, he smirks internally. “you said something?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes as you simply refuse to spare him a glance.

“hmm? what was that?” he questions again, having heard you perfectly fine the first time. it's cute, he thinks. the way you glare at him for making you repeat your words.

“i said, open this for me.” you sigh, holding out a jar, eyes set on the lid with a sweet pout gracing your lips.

“oh,” he takes it, but doesn't really put any effort in trying to unlid it any time sooner. you wait, patience running thin after a mere seconds as you repeat, “sae, come on, i need it right now.”

this time he doesn't hide his smirk, he wants you to see the victorious glint in his eyes as he looks up at you again, batting his lashes in boyish way, something that you've called ‘charming’ before— almost tempting you to say he looks pretty right now because even when you're mad at him, he's still the most prettiest man you've ever seen.

you wouldn't dare though— not inflate his already big any more than it is.

“say please.”

“what? ”

“say please,” he repeats, an annoyingly amused chuckle leaving his lips.

itoshi sae is grinning at you in all his untouched glory on a random saturday morning because you asked him to open a jar for you especially after he had been eyeing you struggling to open it for the past fifteen minutes. you're sure the reason he's wearing that self-assured smirk is because the moments leading up to the aftermath of your argument with him, you have been avoiding him all morning.

you haven't been talking to him, leaving all his texts on seen, even going as far as leaving the room whenever he steps in— that one definitely wound him a little.

“i'm helping you out, saying please is common courtesy.”

“sae, I'm not in the mood to joke around.” you say with finality, finally meeting his eyes.

“who says I'm joking?”

“are you really okay with eating bland pasta tonight?” you scowl.

“are you really okay with continuing this attitude? you've been ignoring me all day, and you say I'm petty.” sae places the jar on the table, no longer of any significance to the conversation.

“oh, that's because you are. you're the reason I'm ignoring you.” you cross your arms.

“i said i was sorry, quit being mad. i didn't mean it.” he sighs, taking one step closer to you—he's testing the waters of your patience.

“sounded like you meant it alright.” your voice is a low whisper, and sae wants nothing more than to go back in time and knock some sense in his past self.

“people say things they don't mean when they're mad. i didn't either. what i did mean was that I'm sorry. really.” it's laced with enough regret to sound convincing, coaxing you to take a step closer to him — albeit, begrudgingly. your anger beginning to dissipate at the tenderness of his caress when sae brings his hand to brush his fingers over your cheekbones.

when he takes another careful step towards you and you don't step back, sae immediately envelopes you in his arms, rubbing circles on the small of your back as he hears you whisper, “you're mean,”

he laughs, “i know.”

“an asshole, a jerk, a stuck-up bastard—”

“yeah, okay, i get the picture.”

“dont just walk out on me like that, i don't ever wanna go to bed angry again.” you say at last, arms coming to drape around his shoulders. a sense of relief washes over him.

“right, i promise. i love you.”

sae basks in the silence that follows, he thinks it's okay you didn't say you love him too immediately. he's still trying to figure out if he deserves it or not. but when he hears you mutter a quick ‘i love you too ’, feeling all the love you hold for him carefully wrapped up in the syllables, tasting sweet on your lips when they meet his— he's glad he tightened the lid on the jar this morning.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

he's insufferable ( affectionate )

[chochuuya]

tending to his wounds.

scenario with (a few) tr boys! ヾ(・ω・*)

"no... no it's okay," he reassures quietly.

he doesn't want to complain that you're being a little too rough with his wounds. he's already bothering you enough, he thought. still can't comprehend the fact that you're so nice to him, despite always getting into fights.

he can still remember the first time you tended to his wounds. his heart just flutters every time he thinks of the sweet memory.

you with him? it's almost like a black cat and golden retriever sort of situation. who's who? i don't even know.

"it's okay." you mocked him.

"liar. you're clearly hurt. always fighting and then asking me to patch you up. i already told you to not get into fights, babe. or maybe lessen it a little..?" you rambled on and on while cleaning up the wounds on his knuckles.

"i'm fine," he grumbled back. while it may be true that he's hurting, he's far too stubborn to admit it. he doesn't like showing his weaknesses to anyone, especially not someone as sweet as you.

his mind goes into a frenzy when he hears your pet name for him, causing him to turn an embarrassing shade of red.

"babe..?" he mutters under his breath.

you look up to him with an eyebrow raised. "what's wrong?"

"n-nothing." he quickly changes his facial expression so that he no longer looks all red and flustered. his heart rate immediately slows, although it is still pumping at a much faster rate than before.

"just thinking, that's all," he added.

you thought about it and quickly realized as you pressed your lips together and shutting your eyes in shame.

damn it. why and how did that slipped out?!

"shoot, sorry. it's a habit."

he didn't expect you to apologize. his eyebrows shoot up and he tilts his head slightly.

"sorry... for what exactly? calling me babe?" he asks curiously, taking in the fact that you, in fact, used a nickname for him.

"uh, yeah." you quickly stick on the bandaids and stand up from your chair.

"okay, all done!"

he notices that you don't look nearly as embarrassed as he is. this causes him to blush even harder and his face looks like a tomato. he watches you stand up, not really knowing how to react.

"wait, where are you going?" he asks quietly, not wanting you to leave.

"going home obviously, it's almost 5." you say nonchalantly as you put your backpack on.

"alright.." he mutters as his eyebrows furrow, watching you put your bag on. while he tries to contain his emotions, something slips out.

"do you maybe wanna hangout after school one day..?" he asks in what he thinks is a casual manner, but is actually full of nervous glances your way.

hm, maybe this is the start of something new. wink wonk

RINDOU, chifuyu, mitsuya, inui, BAJI, angry, akkun, draken, your fav ♡

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

just imagining rindou acting this way makes my heart ache (-ω-、) i hope you enjoyed reading this~ reblogs & likes are always appreciated!! ♡

[seelestia]

⟡ within your waking thoughts (there i’ll be).

⎯ what do they do when they miss you? how do they cope with yearning when you're away? { y for yearning ノ ordered by @floraldresvi! (sorry for the ping!) }

RESERVED FOR! ノ characters. aventurine, sunday, dr. ratio ft. gn!reader. { 1.3k words }

FLAVOR! ノ genre. fluff, slight angst (my apology to sunday lovers yet again), established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ノ tags. aventurine has his tech savvy moment, pre-2.2 sunday (heavy references but no spoilers), ratio has two phones (king of separating work & personal life !!!).

BAKER’S NOTE! ノ thoughts. a repost! bcs tumblr didn't like it the first time. hopefully, this one will be here to stay. thank u to vivi for requesting this ‹3

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

in your absence, aventurine welcomes little thoughts of you that float around his mind with open arms - and the way he indulges them is by simply texting you. effective and efficient, there is a reason why the cosmos calls it the second most used means for long distance communication. what about the first? well, he would've opted for calling you with his earpiece if only his line of work doesn't require 90% of its usage time.

let's just say the idea of fellow stonehearts interrupting his conversation with you ruins the fun. besides, he has deft fingers; coin tricks aren't the only thing in his book, you know, typing a few sentences in one go is no problem at all.

but maybe, he is using that too much to his advantage . . . considering the “25+” staring back at you from your notifications every few hours or so. aventurine is truly, irrevocably relentless.

anything even remotely in your favorite color found within his vicinity? new message: Saw something that reminded me of you, you must really like crossing my mind.

an item he thinks would fit you well? new message: I got you a gift. Does it suit your fancy? [1 attachment]

reminded of how cruel fate is to separate you two for so long? new message: Haven't seen your face in a while. Fifteen hours are a total too cruel, don't you agree?

have faith that you will never grasp the true meaning of boredom when you’re apart from him. luck follows a man like aventurine, so do interesting events - remember how he won a vacation to a resort with one chip? he revels in telling you stories of his encounters while you're away. it is as if thrill revolves around him constantly. . . one wonders just how he fares living on the edge of it all.

(you, for one, are aware of his ways. he has allowed you to wander far enough behind his masquerade, after all.)

of course, texts on an illuminated screen can barely compare to seeing you in person. he prefers having you in his arms instead - but he'll live. solitude is an old friend of his, albeit distant and cold, aventurine can deal with its company every once in a while. at the end of the day, he knows you’ll be there when he comes home.

though, it's such a shame he cannot see your face when you're apart. the curve of your lips as you smile, the twinkle in your eyes with his reflection in them, and. . . ah, seems like he is making this harder for himself. maybe, he should consider buying that HD holographic communicative device on the market? his ears caught wind of some P45 officers at pier point whispering about it before.

it'll cost a large sum of credits but hey, he thinks it'll be worth it. for you? anything is possible.

(...him? clingy? well, guilty as charged.)

sunday’s self-discipline is not something to be underestimated. halovians are a species known for their enchanting voices, yet he feels as if he cannot spare any for even his inner thoughts. what an irony. his longing for your presence is persistent, tumbling at the edge of his tongue - but he is equally as, if not more, stubborn and so he swallows this yearning down instantly.

you are not confined to the dreamscape like he is, as self-imposed as that may be. sunday is aware of that, hence his first instinct is to keep quiet. the curse of sealing his lips till forevermore; watching you leave through the grand doors, letting his gaze fall to where your shadow used to be, savoring the last of your remaining fragrance from when you last bade him goodbye - all without a word.

(don't go, he wished he could say.)

is it a bad habit? “your voice shouldn't be used just to utter words that others want to hear,” you reminded him once. “it's also for you. it's yours.”

but even then, your words are akin to a faint whisper; muffled by the thoughts that plague his mind like a mist. he can't help how they fog up his reflection in the mirror, leaving remnants of something acrid that wafts in the air. something like doubts, sunday would know because he has dwelled in it for as long as he remembers.

you are outside, fluttering your wings in the sky and enjoying what it has to offer. does he have any rights to disturb you? perhaps, in his eyes, sunday views himself as a string tied around your talon, trailing all the way from the heavens where you soar to the humble ground where he resides. each time your absence compels him to reach out, it is as if he’s tugging on that string and dragging you lower from the height you truly relish in, from the height you deserve to be at.

(sunday believes that you belong to the sky, unlike him.)

so here, he shall stay and here, he shall wait until you return. sunday’s heart begins to grow cold - but the farewell kiss you've left on the apple of his cheek hasn't faded. its warmth remains, even when he brushes his freezing hand against it, it remains.

you remain.

(and that is enough for him.)

dr. ratio is a man with a packed schedule, so it's safe to say he keeps himself occupied particularly well. tasks at the intelligentsia guild are nothing short of demanding, after all. there are researchers asking for his input left and right, although some tremble while speaking to him even when he hasn't even uttered a word yet. ignoring that, he also aids in projects that require his expertise. last but not least, his students and classes which he takes very seriously.

(but be careful with how you phrase it — the doctor doesn't view them as distractions, no, he sees them as his responsibilities — saying the former might offend him.)

as you can see, he is perfectly capable of spending time away from you. . . .or at least, until it's time for a break and a part of that perfection chips off.

his office is quite tranquil, free from outside noise, just the way he likes. this place bears a similar purpose as his headgear, to let him focus in silence without disturbance - but he hasn't expected that exact silence to be this deafening. hah, how absurd! in what realm of possibility could silence ever be associated with deafening as an adjective? he supposes it could be a case of tinnitus. . . but veritas knows that isn't the case.

something's missing and it is, much to his dismay, you.

veritas has his standards. he prefers things to be set at a specific level - and this level of silence, one marred further by your lack of presence, is too low for him. he's getting too used to seeing you barge into his office with neatly packed sandwiches in your hands, a revelation he'd rather keep to himself.

veritas reaches for his personal phone, his work one left neglected at the far end of the desk. he considers making a call to you but the clock is ticking. tick tock tick tock, as if to hang the fact that his break is reaching its end over his head.

utilizing whatever time he has left, his finger gives the gallery app a tap. various pictures pop up on the screen; selfies of you with silly expressions, candid shots of veritas himself and some photos of random objects like your matching mugs. all of these were taken by you, of course. seriously, is this his phone or is it yours?

who knows at this point? he nearly lets out a snort, but that smile on his face is fooling no one. the doctor continues scrolling through his gallery, utterly content with just this until he gets home. to you.

(yes, yes, this still counts as keeping himself occupied. thank you for your concern.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

[wingsdippedingold]

In case anyone didn’t know, SJM said that the The Hero and the Crown was an inspiration for ToG. The mc’s title is “Aerin Dragon-Killer” and “Aerin Firehair”

I’m not arguing any plot plagiarism*, which is also hard to prove within the fantasy genre- but when it comes to characters and naming, SJM is by far one of the most uncreative writers.

“Prythian” is the name of a character from Black Jewels, which she has cited as an inspiration to ACoTaR. You can argue that it’s an old spelling of Britain, which Prythian’s map is based on, and that’s fine- BUT it becomes very concerning with “Hibernia” is the old Latin name for Ireland.

“Feyre archeron” - the, soon to be fae, archer

“Illyrians” - very similar to “Eyrien”, which is the name for the bat-winged warrior race who lives in mountains who brutalize their women, and have the Blood Run; Again, from Black Jewels

“Daemon” - finally a changed name (Rhysand). The mc’s fated love from the Dark Court who was an evil queen’s sex slave and has golden skin and black hair. He’s a super sexy suave guy who has weirdly sexual encounters with the mc’s body while she’s basically possessed (but it’s for the plot, trust! - that’s a huge similarity between the authors). He’s also the “most powerful male” and has mind powers. (Black Jewels).

“Lucivar” - again, an actually new name (Cassian). Daemon’s Eyrien half-brother who was seperated from him during the time Daemon was enslaved by the evil queen. He has long dark hair and tan skin, a brave and funny personality, and a “fiery temper”. He tries to teach Eyrien women to fight, and channels his magic through a red gem. He also at one point gets his wings injured so badly to the point of possibly never flying again. (Black Jewels)

** NOW I AM NOT CALLING PLAGIARISM. THE PLOTS ARE DIFFERENT AND SHE CALLED THESE INSPIRATIONS. They’re just a little too similar for me to consider her all that creative. I think she knew what she wanted character-wise and just built the plot around them.

Pulled some sources from Reddit, tumblr, and YouTube, because I haven’t read the Black Jewels series, so some of these may be inaccurate.

[vagabond-umlaut]

cauterize; cicatrize

Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again.

▸ ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he does not have any vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; FLUFF, ANGST & HUMOR; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader; SO MUCH OF PINING & UNRESOLVED TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO, I SWEAR!!!; brief mentions of food

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! [note: each and every character is 18+ in this story :)]

▸ based on the ask sent by @yuujispinkhair for my milestone event. TYSM WINTER!! 🫶🫶🫶 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"It's so difficult to know when the gentle flame of love becomes the harsh flame of ruin– isn't it, baby?"

Furious eyes gleam back in the shitty ceiling lights of the restaurant, the very second the waitress who served you the food earlier, lifts an eyebrow in obvious interest before looking away when you shoot her a mirror image of her expression– A very irked call of your name pulls your gaze back to your husband—

No! No! No!!

Ex-husband.

Married to you, over one thousand years back.

No longer is he your terrifying darling husband.

Sukuna stabs his food with a tad too much force than what's needed, growling, "I may not be who I was before, but, don't forget your place, calling me whatever you want, you pathetic—"

"Did I ever tell you how much of a snack you look with your two arms, baby?" you cut him off, carving a small piece of the fish and placing it in your mouth. Your eyes shut momentarily from the rich taste before opening wide again, only to find confusion etched onto your husband companion's face. You continue, ""Cause you really do look so— very, very much similar to how you were in the Heian Era. A damn delicious snack. Or, a scrumptious five course meal— depending on how much you want to indulge silly me, I guess."

Silence greets your comment— the first time in the two hours it took you to convince Sukuna, then drive him to this Thai restaurant– good heavens above, his grumbling's still The Same even after he has been reawakened a millenium later– only to be broken by a too hushed ask within the next moment.

"And what do you think of my two eyes? Are they still as lovely as my four eyes were to you?"

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to lean over the table and claim his lips in the neediest kiss ever seen in history— your brain quickly shoves such wishes away, making you return him a fond smile instead. And murmur, "Of course, they are...— Your two big eyes and the two not-really-eyes beneath them... As lovely as red rubies."

Sukuna's look shifts into one of joy, if only for a moment, before being back to scowling once more, the same way you return to your cheeky grin as you inquire, "And what do you think, hm, of the food here? It's just the best– ain't it? Yuuji, Nobara and I discovered this hidden gem on our last mission— and when I tasted the green curry they made– I realized I absolutely had to bring you here, by hook or by crook."

"And which one was it? By hook or by crook?" the curse questions, an extremely rare smirk peeking from the corners of his frown; you don't really grasp how much you missed this sight until now– especially, in the present days, when the only emotion your past lover [and forever beloved] shows you is frustration paired with weary distaste—

You shovel some rice into your mouth to stop the far too familiar train of thoughts– you know where it'll be ending; you know it won't be. An agonizingly slow minute passes, wherein you chew the food so slowly then swallow it down, then stare at your empty bowl of rice for a nice ten seconds before mustering a chuckle.

"Of course, by crook," you reply, ignoring the way Sukuna's gaze roves over your face, then your body dressed in your oldest pair of pajamas; staring not in lust, but with something eerily similar to worry, "No one would've ever allowed me to take you out in their right minds. It's way too risky is what it is. They might even execute me if they find us out."

A beat passes in quiet with you feeling the weight of your words and the implications your actions will bear, slowly sinking into the two of you— before the hush is broken yet again. By your companion again.

Though not with a muted question, but with noisy cackles– the most melodious music you've heard in a duration far too long to your liking.

Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth with those sharp canines on display. Barking a guffaw, he asks, "You're one weak fool, letting love ruin you – aren't you, pet?"

You outstretch a hand over to the other side, dainty fingers brushing away the few grains of rice stuck to his face, then smile– mind going back to the innumerable bloodbaths, the figure before you drenched the country in— them growing in intensity after the winter, you know was your last as the Queen of Curses– given, the dates written in the scrolls on his conquests are accurate... Somehow, you know they are—

Your smile widens, digging pleasantly painful indents in your cheeks, as you retract your hand, shrugging at the stock-still image of shock across.

"What can I say, baby? Learnt to do so, from my king himself."

▸ masterlist

[spockandawe]

Oh, this is interesting. To me. I'm not sure it's interesting to anyone else! But I'm on my computer for once and FULL of words again, and I'm delighted to talk to myself given half an excuse.

So, I made a post about Long Live Evil! Because I cracked open the book and was absolutely taken aback by how transparently it seemed to be an SVSSS reskin. I wrote up a goodreads thing (it's whatever, I'm going to rehash the main points here too), because I was also full of words and beans after finishing the book yesterday, and after polling online friends, I was surprised to see that the comparison didn't seem to have organically occurred to anyone else, when it was so naked to me. I know there’s a TON of transmigration and isekai stories out in the universe, and pointing at one single book was a big claim, so I just had to assemble all my thoughts! I find this so interesting! And I reblogged my initial one-off post with a little more elaboration about some of the things that jumped out at me, then got on with live and went back to chipping at ORV and GHG, and shotgunned MADK this afternoon.

This is a subtle nod and a wink to my passionate love for these kind of... morally grey main characters! Calling them villains might be a bit much, I don't think there are many true villain protagonists out there (LLE included), and even Devil Venerable has a demonic cultivator who's doing demonic shit and killing loads of people... but with the ultimate balance of the heavens and earth as his priority. This kind of story is my jam. I was recced this book on the basis of transmigration and sketchy protagonists being my thing. I can't rightfully call SVSSS the best cnovel I've ever read, but it is my favorite. And I've probably reread it more times than any other cnovel.

So, that SRB post, huh? I put Long Live Evil behind me, and honestly even following up on the sequel is mmmmmdoubtful, but THIS snagged my attention again. First, the comparisons she's calling out as incorrect are wild to me. Draco and Harry? What? Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian?? (I had to ponder that one for a hot minute, but I bet you anything it's about 'the golden cobra' and 'the last hope' and that's just silly, they're not wangxian, they're MOSHANG)

I was recced LLE in one friend group, but I had an anti-rec from my book club friend group. My book club friend hadn't been at all impressed by it! And she's cool, and I talk up svsss and mxtx to that crowd every so often, without really expecting them to read it. I talk about transmigration as a plot device that I love, and the things that can be done with it! But with that connection in mind between the books, as I started LLE, I was jokingly defending the honor of SVSSS to this crowd, so I admit I was primed to recognize similarities.

I really truly did not make it far in the book before locking it down. I was getting vibes basically from the moment Rae started gushing about her problematic fictional fave, I referenced 95% certainty shortly after she makes the jump to the fictional universe, the golden cobra was 98%, Lia Mingyan's, I mean Liu Mingyan's lack of sex scenes was 99%, and the first pov section for Marius-jun was where I gave up and called it as a sure thing.

It'll be very funny if I'm wrong! I don't think I'm wrong.

Plenty of spoilers to follow, because I identified this inspiration early, I guessed basically every plot twist early, I don't have the patience to dance around spoilers while explaining how it all lines up.

Now, I said this elsewhere, but it bears repeating: I don't think this is plagiarism. I think it's tasteless to accuse an author of stealing and repurposing characters to her face. But I think it's also tasteless to repurpose characters as nakedly as happened here! Again? If I'm wrong? That's why I'm talking to myself on my blog and not messaging her directly (?????? who even does that). What are the stakes for me being wrong here? I look like a clown online? That would be terrible, I've never done that before! It's not a crime to write in ways I find distasteful. It's not a crime to write a book I think is not good, even apart from the use of fictional influences. But I like talking about my feelings online, and I can't be stopped!

But there's two aspects of this that make me somewhat uncomfortable in a less fun way. Both are contingent on the big IF. If this is inspired by svsss, I think it's not a classy move to take a Chinese story in a Chinese setting, inspired by the modern Chinese literary scene and classical Chinese fantasy, and just dump the characters into a generic western setting. Fanfic? Have fun and try to be respectful. Profic, making money off it? Ehhhhh. The question of how much change is necessary is a tricky one! It's not one I'm equipped to answer, this is not my wheelhouse or my place to speak. But it doesn't make me feel good!

However, here's where I have more personal stake:

Again, if this is inspired by svsss. It really doesn't feel great to see a queer story (a smash hit in more than one country!) stripped down for parts and made into a heterosexual story. It's not all heterosexual, we get side lesbians, we get men with homoerotic tension. But the central ship is now a guy and a girl. And it... stings a little extra, because in the story of svsss, the idea of assumptions about default (hetero)sexuality are such a central theme. A queer man has written a trashy, oversexed stallion novel where the hottest guy in the universe collects the hottest women like pokemon, and it sells so much better than the more personal stories he tried to write. He has to write this pandering trash to make money to live, he can't live on the more authentic stories he tried to tell before. The protagonist is the projection of his own insecurities and self-hate, and the protagonist's right hand man is his projection of his own ideal man. Another man transmigrates into the book, assuming that he himself is straight, assuming the protagonist is straight, and the force of their love changes the course of the entire narrative. In retrospect, it's upsetting to see those load-bearing themes casually carved out of the story and the hollowed-out remains used like this.

Anyways, in their place, now we've got running gags about how the heroine's tits are BIGHUGE now and she can't keep her balance because her GIANT HONKERS keep tipping her over.

I'm a little more bothered than I was yesterday! On the other hand, since I saw SRB's post, I've been chewing on that central ship. Full disclosure, it was one of my favorite aspects of the novel! My other favorite aspect is the dynamic between the golden cobra and the last hope (the moshang, which I think some people misdiagnosed as wangxian).

I know that the central ship here is the thing that's LEAST comparable to svsss, and the biggest roadblock in the way of my theory. On the other hand, I think it was the thing that HAD to change if this story was going to repurpose svsss without getting called out for being a classic 'bro can i copy your homework' adventure.

For this section, let's assume that I'm right and let's roleplay an author trying to figure out how to change Bingqiu into something not-obviously-Bingqiu. How do we need to differentiate Rae and Key from Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.

First, we eliminate the martial sect thing. Easy peasy! That's a wuxia concept, and this book goes full nondescript western fantasy. She's not his teacher, he's not her student. And if she's not his teacher and he's not her student, why does this woman have power over this man, to build up the resentment that inspires him to turn the tables on her later? Well, in nondescript western fantasy, she's a noblewoman of some kind, and he's a servant of some kind. Noble lady treats servant like garbage, servant resents her. Doing great.

And to loop back around to the beginning of this a little, I think it really is key to this reskinning that Rae is a SHE. If the central ship remained queer, it would be so, so hard to pull away from the most identifiable thematic aspects of svsss. And pieces of what remain are... kind of bizarre for a normie heterosexual ship where our protagonist is aware that she's transmigrated into an impossibly desirable sexpot character!

Shen Qingqiu never considers that Luo Binghe might be interested in him because Luo Binghe is about to have a HAREM of beautiful women, he's the most heterosexual man of all time, and Shen Qingqiu is straight too! Besides, Shen Qingqiu is his teacher! He half-raised Luo Binghe! Even if Luo Binghe was bent, he wouldn't be interested in an old man like Shen Qingqiu!

Rae is 20, occupying a 24-year-old body. Her character's sexiness is relentlessly remarked upon from start to finish. Key is 18. Why is Rae so sure that he looks up to her as... a mentor, as an older woman? He almost goes down on her! He makes out with her! And she's like 'ah yes, it means nothing. lol. so funny how these things happen.' Bruh, at least after Luo Binghe kissed Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu finally got hit with the clue stick. Binghe didn't try to blow him only for Shen Qingqiu to keep noodling on about how Binghe definitely isn't into him in any sense, even the most oblivious man in the universe managed to catch on.

Why doesn’t Rae think there’s any chance of genuine attraction here? Yeah, I get that she's coming back from terminal cancer. She's doing great. She knows that the fictional character she occupies is one of the most desirable ladies in the land. He’s a teenager. He’s not expressing disinterest. A lack of horny for sexy lady ought to be more surprising for her. But I guess she’s slightly older than him and that small age gap has been magnified by the transmigration, so she conceptualizes herself only as his teacher, I mean mentor.

I’m not even mad at this dynamic. I love their chemistry, the ‘boss’ thing is cute, but lordt, I have to wonder if it’s meant to substitute for ‘shizun.’ But you know where this comparison really falls apart? Key isn’t really THAT much Luo Binghe.

At least, he isn’t in terms of personality. I mean, we’ve got the mysterious magical heritage, the healing factor, the unbeatable fighting skills, being beaten repeatedly because of the protagonist (tbh it’s sexier when she’s responsible, rather than just being a bystander), being yeeted into the abyss, I mean the ravine, to rise again and assume power as the merciless ruler of all the land. Oh, and he comes back from the dead still bearing the scar that represents her betrayal. In the original novel, he turned on her the moment he got his opening and was responsible for coming up with her gruesome torment.

(Also, Shen Qingqiu being terminally ill isn’t canon, but it’s very popular fanon, and it’s hard to ignore that with how hard the narrative lingers over Rae’s terminal illness as her gateway into this fictional world)

But! But the things that are different! Luo Binghe is a smart and sweet teenager, who had a rough start on the streets and has a tragically deceased single adoptive parent, but that’s their only backstory parallel, he doesn’t blacken until he’s thrown into the abyss. Not like Key, Key is a murder-happy sociopath, a former street kid who fought the odds and made good, and who’s a lot sharper and cleverer than the upper classes think someone like him should be. He utterly destroyed a righteous cultivator clan, I mean glassblowing guild, for the sake of revenge. Once our heroine scores a number of trust points with him, we unlock secret backstory about how as a small child, he experienced deeply formative hand trauma.

He’s Xue Yang.

It took me a moment to process the wangxian allegations SRB mentions in her post, because I was trying to figure out how someone would be aware of wangxian, and read that backstory, and somehow miss it. But it’s fine, I’m pretty sure they were actually talking about the golden cobra and the last hope! So LET’S TALK MOSHANG.

It was so funny. I was liveblogging the book to friends, because honestly, I do not jive with the buffy-esque joss whedon relentless quip-quip-quip writing style. I was struggling to stay engaged when the narrative never took a moment to breathe. And I perked up at the introduction of this new character! He seemed kind of fun, kind of meta, Key came over to share Secret Info with him, and I messaged the friend who recced this to me (also an svsss appreciator) ‘lol, what if he’s shang qinghua. just straight from svsss shang qinghua.'

Reader, a second transmigrator has hit the narrative.

Now, in some ways, he’s a disappointment to me. He’s not nearly as interesting as Shang Qinghua. Adding the author to their own narrative is way more fascinating to me than just dropping a rando into the story. But I’ll take what I can get, I think multiple transmigrators are almost always a fun decision. And for the queer reasons I mentioned above, I think Shang Qinghua ties into the themes of his novel a lot more strongly than Eric does here. I don’t want to call him ‘the golden cobra’ every time, I get more self-conscious every time I write it. And honestly, the reveal of Eric’s full Eric Whatever name feels a little awkward and… pointed compared to the sheer opacity of Shang Qinghua’s existence. Never mind what his name was in the real world, we don’t even know his name before he was a Peak Lord. I’m not upset we got a name or anything, it would make certain fannish activities a lot easier if Shang Qinghua had additional canon names, but it was an interesting detail in light of how parallel the characters are.

Okay! He’s not the author! He’s still a super-fan. He transmigrated into the book years before the LLE main character, and has settled in pretty well. According to canon as Rae knows it, he’s fated to be killed by his own favorite character. He’s fast-thinking and fast-talking, and scattered and all over the place, but dangerous when cornered and more competent than he looks. He deals in information and manages a network of spies. He’s a creative! He and the main character banter relentlessly and get along like a house on fire. He and the king’s trusted ice-cold right hand man share a weird codependent dynamic that’s part hostile, part homoerotic.

Marius has complicated feelings about not-shang-qinghua. Eric is a coward, he’d rather talk fast and lie than stand up for anything, he cowers and cringes and isn’t honorable. He and Mobei-jun also shared a deeply formative experience in their youth, where as a teenager in distress, Eric/Shang Qinghua appeared before them and announced their devotion. In Shang Qinghua’s case, it was offering to serve him (and saving him from huan hua injuries), and in Eric’s case, it was declaring him to be his favorite character (and saving him from sad teenaged isolation), but man. And in the end, after a long, fraught relationship, Marius/Mobei-jun is furious and strangely distraught when Eric/Shang Qinghua abandons him.

Guys, it’s not wangxian.

I think it hits less hard when Marius’s themes of family violence aren’t allowed to sit directly in the narrative, and when it seems like some vague berserker rage thing rather than Linguang-jun just bluntly wanting to murder him for practical reasons, but hey! This was still, genuinely, one of my favorite parts of the story. I wanted more more more of them, I would read this moshang au any day.

After that, the parallels get a little more nebulous! The comparisons between the abyss and the ravine are pretty obvious. I’m not sure why we decided to build our city and palace right on top of the pit of people-eating ghouls rather than literally anywhere else, but it means we don’t need to take a special field trip to Jue Di Gorge, which means we can do the bait and switch where it turns out Key was a heavenly demon all along. The temperamental King Octavian, the young master of the palace, one might even say the xiao gongzhu if they were feeling spicy, jealously tries to romantically monopolize half our main ship and has the other half flogged with a magic whip.

I already mentioned that Rae brings up that Liu Mingyan — wait, I said I’d change some answers so it wasn’t obvious I copied — Lia doesn’t get a sex scene in the books even though loads of other people did, just like Shen Qingqiu praises Liu Mingyan for her untouchable image in such an oversexed, gratuitous book. I don’t think it would be right to call Liu Mingyan a white lotus heroine in either SVSSS or PIDW, but her archetype is in that wheelhouse, and Lia is just a white lotus rival played straight (and played deliberately, another touch I liked). We don’t have made up animals like black moon rhinoceros pythons in LLE, but we do have leucrotas, which are like a lion and a hyena and serve no narrative purpose.

Oh, you know what else I forgot to mention? Rae gives Key one of her red ruby earrings, and he refuses to sell it, and stubbornly holds onto it until the bitter end. Is this Xue Yang holding onto the last piece of candy Xiao Xingchen gave him, or is it Hua Cheng determinedly keeping Xie Lian’s red coral earring with him even through his own death? Por que no los dos?

There are things that are original in here. I know that this presentation undersells how much of the book is original. The trouble is, almost everything I thought was good is something that either was lifted from another person’s creative endeavors, or is being tainted by association with all the other naked lifts. Some of the noble ladies have an archery contest! That’s pretty new and fresh, huh? We didn’t have any archery contests in SVSSS!

Yeah, but we sure did in MDZS. And MDZS is already in play, because we’ve already got one character who’s just copy and paste Xue Yang.

There’s a thermocline of trust in this book that fell off for me sharply, and it turned a lot of this into a guessing game of ‘wait NOW what the refrance? owo'

I’m probably on a hair trigger by now, but I’ve also probably missed some things. And I’m sure this is a synthesis of multiple influences, because most stories are. But this feels like cooking and trying to season your dish with a little salt and then the container lid just falls off.

Emer isn’t a clear parallel to an existing character! Love that for her! Love a lady with an axe, especially if she gets a nice girlfriend! On the other hand, in terms of backstory? Wow, she’s been raised with our protagonist since early childhood, as not-quite-foster-siblings, but she was always the clear unfavorite and harbors a lot of resentment over that. Oh, and once Rae entered the story, Rae started trying to speedrun an enemies to 'hello hiiii we should bestiessss' arc with her. I think she had to have an axe, because a whip or a sword would make the Jiang Cheng and/or Liu Qingge vibes a little uncomfortably strong. She doesn’t follow their character arcs! But the disappointing thing is that it felt like she was just there to facilitate pasting the frankenstein patchwork of the narrative together rather than having an arc of her own.

(why did Marius stop to give her a sword lesson? Why did she immediately sneak onto the roof to eavesdrop on the king?? It’s hard to give her credit for being an original character when none of her original actions make sense in the greater universe)

Oh, I almost forgot, we’ve even got magic plot macguffin plants. While Binghe is in the abyss, Shen Qingqiu needs to get the Sun And Moon Dew Flower Seed so he can build an escape hatch for himself before Binghe wrecks his shit. Rae, on the other hand, needs to secure the Flower of Life and Death by an arbitrary deadline as an escape hatch so she can go back to her original life rather than being trapped here forever. Very different! There’s even little side tangents about how these plants can be so beneficial to others, Zhuzhi-lang is desperately trying to secure a seed to build a new body for Tianlang-jun (which Shen Qingqiu enables him to do, despite not knowing what he wants it for), and Rae thinks about how the flower could “save someone on the very doorstep of death,” and gives it away for that exact purpose. So different!

I need to cut myself off, otherwise I’ll keep going. Truly, there is original content in here. It was just all the stuff I didn’t like. The character quipping was. God. There sure was a lot of it! By sheer volume, that’s a lot of original content. Some of the extended cast was interesting, I enjoyed the Horrors and their brothers, I liked Valencia. Now, I didn’t like how basically every girl ADULT WOMAN in this cast was in shitty teen mean girl mode. I didn’t like how immature every character interaction period was. I lost track of how many times Rae was going around in sexy clothes and rando servants were like “HARLOT,” out loud about a favored noblewoman, you know, as you do. Especially when her bodyguard is pulling against his choke chain just waiting for an excuse to do a murder. I don’t need Rae to be the picture of flawless maturity. But nobody is mature, full stop, not even the set dressing servants.

For a less loaded example, the cumplane friendship dynamic is here, practically intact. Shen Qingqiu can't snipe about authorial choices, because Eric isn't the author, so instead Rae and Eric squabble about favorite scenes and favorite ships and such. But it isn't nearly as charming when we don't see these two characters dropping their dignified Peak Lord cultivator roleplay to talk shit with each other. Rae and Eric never have a filter once in this book. They are always Like This, it isn't a secret face that gets unlocked when they're bouncing off each other, they are never circumspect, never have a filter, never have any idea they shouldn't be speaking their full thoughts at full volume 24/7. Even after this starts to have material consequences when they're inevitably overheard! It's an immersion-breaking level of immaturity, which is terribly frustrating when the original dynamic that I loved is only changed in such minor ways.

And another thing that actually tastes way more sour than it did on first reading – Valencia is probably the least mean girl of all the women in the cast. She’s delightful. Too bad that in every scene but her last one, Rae, who repeatedly references her own experiences having her body and appearance ravaged by cancer, cannot for love or money stop talking about how uggo Valencia is.

I know this is an adult novel. The characters are, by age, adults. There’s almost an oral scene. God, I wish we’d gotten the oral scene. But by every other metric, the characters are all high schoolers and I’m an exhausted adult muttering to myself ‘they’ll grow out of it, please GOD let them grow out of it.’

Again, none of this is a crime! Nobody forced me to finish the book! And I did enjoy the book. Parts of it! But that very distinct partial enjoyment experience almost forced me to dissect my own emotional response. And truly, other than a few flashes like Valencia, almost everything I enjoyed about the book was something I could trace directly back to one author, and mostly to one book by that one author. I… enjoyed half of the book. And if I can track most of that half back to mxtx and svsss, I really think that says something about how much wasn’t done to make the inspiration behind this book the author’s own.

It's disappointing! I read this book because I like svsss, I read it because I want more books like svsss, I read it because I trawl the novelupdates tags looking for more books that will hit me the way svsss did. It doesn’t taste good to be served reheated svsss with expired buffy sauce drizzled on top. It tastes even less good once I have a minute to think about what turning an m/m meditation on sexuality and self-image and assumptions about others into a m/f snooze does to the themes I loved so much. It stings to see an author rehash a book that was/is so important to me, and see what they kept and what they threw out, and be like ‘oh, so… these were the elements that mattered to you?’

Again, I hate to be redundant with this, but. I think calling this book plagiarism would be overdoing it. I think it’s tasteless. I don’t think being tasteless is a crime. It remains wild to me that she’s getting messages calling out her supposed inspiration, even if I’m simultaneously criticizing the judgment of the people making those specific comparisons. And I ABSOLUTELY understand why she’s reluctant to own up to the specific inspirations behind this book, because good lord. If it was me, I’d be professionally embarrassed too.

It’s not my job to be the book quality police, but I think someone as experienced as this should be able to do a better job of synthesizing inspirations into something original. I dropped ‘can’t afford to offend my scheming disciple’ earlier this year, because that narrative couldn’t shake the taste of stale svsss fanfic, and it was much more subtle than this is. Once again, if I’m wrong, this post will be retroactively VERY funny and I’ll be all ears to see what her inspirations actually were. I don’t think I’m wrong.

[2baabbies]

🖤 Obsessed (Hyunjin x Reader) 🖤

Pairings: established relationship hyunjin x reader

Words: 3800

Summary: Hyunjin’s jealous streak ends with you finding him in a compromising position. AKA: in your bed, masturbating while wearing your shirt.

(somewhat inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song by the same name; quote at the beginning also from this song)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: jealousy (but make it cute and silly), reader is trying to make hyunjin jealous but only because it makes them both horny (and he’s a drama queen), he’s only a bit insecure, the point of contention is a big shirt but reader’s weight is not described (aka this fic is not limited to any one body size), reader and hyunjin have exes, reader lets hyunjin make assumptions that she teases him about later

Smut Tags: lots of teasing!!, (subtle) subby!hyune x dom!reader, intercourse (peanits in vagina), safe sex/use of condom, a bit of rough sex/uncomfortable position, reader has a kink for hyunjin’s desperation, begging, hair pulling, overstim, slight dumbification of reader, slightly pervy!hyune (smelling your clothes), hyunjin masturbates in your shirt (described in detail), little bit of voyeurism, bit of cum eating

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy

But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her

You both have moved on, you don't even talk

But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby’

It takes Hyunjin’s brain a second to register that something is wrong, and a second after that to actually take a look at himself and attempt to decipher what feels so off. He is still buffering when you return to your bedroom. You giggle at his bedhead and the cute expression on his face as he grabs the hem of his shirt and holds it up. He thought he had grabbed his white tshirt off the floor, and in his morning daze he had actually grabbed one of yours that you were too lazy to throw in the morning laundry. The graphic tee is far too big on him, even hanging off his shoulder, but you get a good look at the boxers he pulled on seconds before thanks to his hands lifting it up above his stomach. He drops the material and it falls down over his lap, unfortunately covering his soft tummy and pale thighs. He looks up then blinks away his sleep as you enter with a basket of clean laundry. You hold up his shirt and you giggle again at his sleepy smile.

“Looking for this?”

He nods and watches you drop the basket on the bed. You pull each freshly washed garment out for him and he shuffles over to loop his arms around your waist from behind.

“You let me sleep in…”

“You wouldn’t get up, sleeping beauty.”

He huffs and pecks the nape of your neck.

“You didn’t try hard enough…”

“Mhm, sure. You look cute in that.”

You admire him over your shoulder as he leans back and plucks the baggy fabric between his fingers.

“It doesn’t fit me…”

“I think that’s where the cuteness comes in.”

“I’m always cute…”

“That… I don’t disagree with that.”

He chuckles and turns you around so he can properly embrace you. You smile at him and nudge your noses together with a fond smile. He hums and nuzzles back gently, drawing your body tight to his with a content sigh.

“It’s so cozy… How come I hardly see you wearing it?”

You fail to realize at first that he is back to talking about the shirt, and take a moment of silence to contemplate his question.

“I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty, I try to put something cleaner on when I know you’re coming over.”

You both laugh at your honesty.

“It’s really soft.”

“Well, I’d offer to buy you one but I don’t know where it came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone left it over a while ago…”

You do not regret the words when they leave your mouth, but you can do little to fight your smirk as Hyunjin’s lips draw into a tight line. He then purses his lips and puffs his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

“Who?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Tell me who.”

You roll your eyes. Hyunjin was privy to the history of all your exes, situationships, and sexual escapades. You knew about his too. It had been relieving to be able to talk so candidly about your experiences with him, and it definitely allowed the two of you to become close early on in your relationship. There was something therapeutic about snuggling with your lover and bitching about the ones that let you down.

It did not, however, curb Hyunjin’s jealousy in the slightest. He knew their names, how long you were together, if you still talked, he even knew where some of them lived and worked. It would be alarming if you had not both offered all that information to each other willingly. And you knew, ultimately, Hyunjin would never restrict you from having a friendship with any of the exes you still talked to. Although you would never admit it, you treated his jealousy as a testament of his love. He only cared so much because he cared about you. Besides, it was a natural emotion, and the fact that he was willing to  be so emotionally available did more for you than anything your exes ever did.

“We don’t even talk anymore, Hyune. I don’t think she’s even in this country.”

“She. She. Oh god, I know who it is.”

“No, you don’t-”

He falls out of your arms and to the bed with a heavy thud, wailing incoherently as you observe his theatrics.

“She’s the worst!”

“Well, that’s why we’re not friends anymore…”

He suddenly thrashes and tears the shirt off with an animalistic grunt. You cock your eyebrow up and watch him roll around in vain when it gets stuck on his chin. He manages to pull it off and whips it at the floor, breathless after his performance.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I can’t believe you let me wear her shirt.”

You scoff.

“Firstly, you’re the one that put it on. Secondly, it’s my shirt. She left it. Finders keepers.”

“I feel dirty.”

“You’re fine. And overreacting.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and crawl up so you are sitting in his lap. He huffs and looks at you with a miserable expression.

“Why did you keep her shirt?”

“Because it’s a nice shirt, and I like it.”

“Get rid of it.”

“I will not. But, I’ll wear it less if that makes you feel better.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

You giggle.

“You’re being silly, Hyune.”

He looks away pointedly and you guide him back to face you by gripping his jaw. He swallows thickly as you, slowly, lean in to hover your face over his. You feel his shuddery breath on your lips, and bite down seductively to muffle the satisfied hum you release when you feel him hardening beneath you. He glares and scrunches his face with faux distaste as you dance your fingers up his stomach, then graze your thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers and finally lets the act drop, his annoyance melting into arousal as you peck shyly at his lips.

“Hyune,” You purr, “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I-I know…”

You reward his cooperation with a teasing lick into his mouth, and carefully circle his nipple with light pressure. He whines and bucks up against you.

“You know how special you are to me. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” He whimpers.

You respond with a sultry chuckle and begin stripping off your clothes.

There was a part of you that adored Hyunjin’s jealousy. It made him whiny, and needier for your affection. You would deny it vehemently if he ever called you out on it, but his desperation for your validation could have you dripping in seconds. So, it was a bit of a game between you. For the majority of the following week, Hyunjin would pretend he was unbothered when he saw you wearing that shirt. In turn, you would pretend that you were accidentally choosing it over all your other pajama options. While it may have been a bit unfair- or even mean- on your part to watch him squirm and stifle his complaints each time you pulled it on, it did not weigh on your conscience. You love each other; you trust he will let you know when his limit has been met.

And he does.

“Take it off.”

“Ha-ah,” Your eyes roll as you mumble back, “Hn?”

Your mind is fuzzy. Hyunjin has your ankles hooked over his shoulders and his cock pressed deep inside you. Your arms are limp above your head, fists clenching in the pillow supporting you. You tilt your head back with a moan as his hips rock against the back of your thighs in a steady rhythm.

“Baby, take it off, please.”

His fingers are curled in the hem of the white shirt, lifting it up as he ruts himself into your warmth. You huff out a laugh and tilt your head back to face him. You moan as you take in his heady groans and pleading eyes. His plump lips are parted to exhale a whine and his cheeks are impossibly flushed. You clench when he makes another pathetic noise and shoves his face into your neck. You smirk as your shirt gets rucked up to your breasts.

“I-I’m cold, Hyune.”

“Please. Please, please, please.”

He draws back and now you whine as his movements falter. 

“Hyunjin?”

He raises his head and pouts, eyes teary as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling your heat gush at the sight. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and your mind is scrambled with the intent to chase that high. You roll your hips and he gives a shaky thrust in return.

“Don’t make me beg, darling. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Mhm! M’okay, take it- take it off, Hyune.”

His touch is deft as you lift your arms and he slips the shirt over your head. He throws it behind him, then draws a gasp from you when he repositions himself above you. Your mouth is agape in pleasure when he starts thrusting again, legs folded to your chest as he plows you into the mattress. You are thankful for the pillow, otherwise your head would be banging against the headboard. His tip almost kisses your cervix and you let out a breathless wail as humps into you, following each precise thrust with steadily rising groans. You reach up to thread your fingers in his hair and bring him in for a kiss. Your toes curl as his body melts into yours, and you finally reach your climax. You share more consuming kisses as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Hyunjin is soon following you, getting sloppier in his movements as his pleasure increases. He leans away, just enough to let you catch your breath. Your legs are trembling from the strain, and now from the overstimulation of his cock filling your fluttering cunt. He shakes his head when stray hairs stick to his skin and fall into his eyes, and you lovingly tuck each one out of the way.

“Hyune…”

“G-Good?”

“Mhm,” You nod and quiver, “M’good. Can’t think.”

He laughs and leans down to peck your lips. For a moment it looks like he has a quip lined up, but he just snuggles his head into your chest and lets out a ruined moan. You giggle as his thrusts stutter, then he lazily rolls his hips into you with a relieved hum. You let him ride out his release, kissing the crown of his head and playing with his hair as he lets out little moans and sighs of pleasure. When he finally stills, you reach between your bodies and gently push on his chest.

“Ah-ahn…”

“Hyune, you’re squishing me.”

“Hah, sorry.”

He groggily rises and lets your legs fall out of their tense position. You help him slip off the condom and discard it in the trash bin beside your bed. Your legs are numb, and you are a little shuddery all over from the lingering overstimulation. Hyunjin helps you get comfortable then melts into your waiting arms. You resume kissing and caressing him slowly as he tucks the two of you under the blanket and settles on top of you. He rubs his dumpling cheek over your heart and smiles when you giggle at him.

“I love you,” He murmurs, “You okay?”

You nod.

“I’m good, baby. I love you, too. You always make me feel so good.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry I was rough.”

Hyunjin massages your hips and gently squeezes your thighs. You hum and brush your fingers through his hair, tidying his mussed locks and ridding it of tangles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I loved it. You were perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

He leans up to share a sweet kiss, stroking your cheek as your lips meld together. When you part, he pecks your chin then lets his lips trail down your neck. Your eyes flutter and you exhale peacefully as exhaustion overtakes you. Still, you stay awake when he brushes his lips over your ear and whispers to you.

“Thank you, for taking it off.”

“Mhm. Jealous baby.”

He whines at your teasing tone.

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” You murmur as you drift off, “But I still love you. You’re my favourite boy. My one and only.”

He nods and pecks your cheek. “I know. You’re my one and only, too, baby.”

The morning arrives peacefully. You wake up before your alarm, and enjoy a few minutes of admiring Hyunjin’s sleeping visage before you slip out of bed to get ready for the day. He is still sleeping after you finish your routine, completely undisturbed as you get dressed and check your phone. You still have some time before you have to go, so you sit beside him on the bed and card your fingers through his hair as you scroll through your phone. He stirs and looks up at you blearily when you run your thumb down the bridge of his nose.

“Mh?”

“Good morning, baby,” You peck his forehead, “I have to go out. I have a couple errands to run. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Mhhm.”

You tuck him in and kiss his temple as he nuzzles his face into a pillow. You giggle and leave with a fond smile.

Hyunjin wakes later, before you return, and pats the empty space beside him until he realizes you are not there. He rolls onto his back to look around and swipes a hand over his face as he fights his disorientation. Eventually, he vaguely remembers you kissing him goodbye earlier when he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Unfortunately for him, he has no clue when that was or how much longer it will be until you get home. He lets out a frustrated sigh for no one but himself and eases himself out of bed. He pulls on his boxers, finding them among the pile of other clothes hastily discarded when the two of you fell into bed the night before, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He is a bit more awake when he returns to your bedroom, and pauses as it registers in his vision. White fabric, carelessly casted to the floor, sitting atop your panties and his hoodie. He scoffs at it, so it will know how he disapproves of it gracing his presence, and crosses the room to pick it up off the floor. He had not cared to look at the white tee any more closely once the idea of you wearing someone else’s clothes crossed his mine, but he is drawn to dissecting it now. He does not recognize the print on the front, some band or characters you never mentioned, but he does admire it a bit now. Ultimately, he understands why you kept the shirt on an objective level. It is nice, albeit a little worn, and there is nothing aesthetic-wise that he dislikes about it.

Hesitantly, he toys with it before bringing it to his nose. He gives a tentative sniff as he recalls your words from a week ago. I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty. The shirt definitely did not smell like fresh laundry, or whatever he was expecting it to smell like. It smells like you. He cannot place it, there is a mix of familiar smells invading his senses; the remnants of your body wash, a hint of the candle you light after stressful days, the trace of your hot scent that drives him crazy during your intimate moments. His eyelids flutter and he groans, pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeper. He recalls how comfortable the shirt was to wear before he learned of its origins, and begrudgingly pulls it on before crawling back in bed.

Missing you is torture for him during the rare moments he wakes up alone in your bed, but wearing your shirt settles his loneliness for a bit. That is, until he gets restless again. He could go find his phone, wherever he abandoned it when you two started getting handsy the night before, but he is already so comfortable under the covers. The only thing missing is you. He pulls the collar up over his nose and breathes in, momentarily subdued by the illusion of being enveloped by you. Then he remembers the vision of you from last night, wearing this same shirt and taking him so dutifully in this same bed. He groans and curses himself, reaching down to palm over his growing erection. The shirt, still too big for him, adds an extra obstacle between him and relief as he strokes himself leisurely. He shucks his boxers off under the blanket and reaches under the shirt to grasp his cock firmly. He groans and gives himself a rough squeeze before jerking himself slowly.

One hand holds the shirt up over his nose while the other roams over his length. He wishes it was you. He bucks his hips up at the thought of you touching him and puffs sharply into the shirt. He squirms, the tip of his cock rubs against the inside of the shirt with every stroke and creates a delicious amount of friction. It is so soft, gliding against him without any discomfort and very little resistance. His hips jump again and he has to clutch the base of his cock to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He discovers that he can taste your scent stronger if he inhales through his mouth, and before too long is panting desperately as he thrusts into his fist. He is too hot now, and kicks off the blanket before resuming the rhythm of sucking in deep breaths while fucking into his own hand.

He is almost there now, possibly on the verge of cumming faster than any other time he has touched himself. He watches his cock strain under the shirt through his eyelashes, and whines when his precum begins wetting a spot in the white fabric. It sticks to him now, turning a bit translucent where his arousal beads through the material. His eyes pinch shut and he controls himself again. He does not want to finish so quickly. This feeling of pleasure is new to him, being smothered in your scent and comfort with the perfect sensation helping him get off. The only thing that might compare is actually getting to fuck you, but this is so different.

He cannot edge himself any longer, the pleasure that has been pooling has become too much. He begins jerking himself faster, ignoring the dry scrape of his unlubed palm on his shaft. He collects some of his precum and uses that to ease his motions. It helps just enough and allows him to reach his climax without further hesitation. He cries out and pants out a series of whimpering moans as his cum shoots out in thick spurts.

You lean in the doorway, watching his release soak through the fabric and further dampen the spot over his cock. You had been watching since he kicked the blanket away. In fact, you knew what he was doing when you entered the apartment and heard his soft moans ringing out in the silence. What you had not expected was walking in on the scene before you- but you were far from disappointed. You let Hyunjin recover a bit before speaking up. He tugs down the collar of the shirt and heaves in a much needed breath.

“I thought you didn’t like that shirt?”

He jumps and throws his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

You laugh as his other hand slips guiltily out from under the shirt and falls limp on the bed, a bit of his cum sticking between his fingers. You saunter over to the bed, leaning in to run your hand up the inside of his leg as you walk up alongside him. He shivers and peeks at you through his fingers, chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. Your hand takes his wrist from where it lies on the bed, you hold him firmly as you ease down to straddle his lap. You hold up his messy fingers, almost in admiration, and meet his gaze as you suck them into your mouth. He groans and lets his other hand drop so he can watch you lap each one clean. Your lip twitches as you guide his fingers over your lips, smearing your spit as you lead him to cup your cheek.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, the shirt, right,” You giggle and silently urge him to reply, “I-It’s alright. I still don’t like it.”

“Really? You seem to like it, at least a little bit.”

You pry the shirt up from where it has begun to stick to his cock and he hisses. You tilt your head and run your thumb over the patch of soiled fabric thoughtfully.

“O-Only because it smells like you.”

“Oh? Is that it? Are you still jealous?”

Hyunjin sets his jaw and avoids your gaze for a moment as he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know…”

“Be honest, Hyune.”

His eyes flick shyly to yours.

“It’s not easy just to… not be jealous. You know that.”

“Mhm…”

You move up his lap, not caring when you settle onto the dirty patch or his oversensitive cock. He watches with a worried frown as you brace your hands on either side of his head and lean over him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes,” He breathes, looking up at you expectantly.

“You’re jealous over someone who I never had feelings for, and who never got to touch me.”

His eyes widen then narrow.

“But, y-you said your ex left it!”

“Ah-ah- I said ‘someone’ left it behind. You were the one who assumed I was ever into that person.”

He puffs his cheeks and glares softly.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t correct you. You shouldn’t have assumed you knew who forgot it.”

“You set me up.”

You laugh.

“I set you up? For what? To catch you jerking off in my shirt?”

“Yes!”

Your laughter intensifies and Hyunjin fights his smile. He looks embarrassed, face still flushed, but the twinkle in his eye as you become breathless above him seems to signify his ease with the circumstances. You sigh happily and lean down to reward him with a deep kiss, which he eagerly returns.

“How about we get you clean, hm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You giggle and tug at the shirt playfully.

“And I’ll get our shirt washed up.”

“Yeah, you let it go too long. It’s way too dirty to wear now.”

You snort.

“Okay, actually, you can wash your own messes.”

He grins.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hyune.”