#also i am aware that this is more than one sentence

[physicallyimprobable]

Alright so yes, this does seem like a fake story (unfortunately) but personally I was most interested by comments saying that it was made by AI, since the prose seemed human enough to me. Fortunately, one commenter (@bsidetrack) was kind enough to link this YouTube video which gave some tips, so I decided to try them out on the story above. And of course arrange them in a list, because that's who I am. The numbering is according to the video, with sub-items added whenever I felt like it.

How To Spot LLM Reddit Engagement Bait

None of these points are diagnostic, which makes sense because you, a human, can literally just Write Like This if you want to. These are just all things that add credence to the hypothesis that a post was written with LLM. In particular, multiple people pointed out in the comments of the video that folks with the 'tism tend to do a lot of these, and indeed are more likely to be falsely accused of being LLMs.

(Also I'm using the term LLM because I'm tired of people conflating all AI with this garbage.)

Good grammar and syntax. Even spacing, starting letters of sentences are capitalized, clauses are correctly separated, etc. Not really evidence for an LLM so much as lack of evidence against an LLM. Plenty of humans (including myself) do their best to write with proper grammar. Predictive text models, however, find it difficult to speak with obviously-bad grammar. I like the analogy used in the video: "Averaging the output of the entire internet to generate a Reddit post reduces mistakes, the same way that averaging the faces of a bunch of people returns a face that is more symmetrical than most individual faces." 1a. Inconsistent grammar and syntax. The definitions for "correct" grammar differ with cultures, but a given person will usually use a single convention, while an LLM will flip between correct conventions at random. The most common examples are switching between dash sizes and changing the way quotation marks interact with other punctuation. This post doesn't really do any of that, though; all of the quotation marks are the same and all punctuation is pulled inside.

Neat structure. Each paragraph is about a specific topic, which was introduced by the first sentence. Again this is good practice, so humans can and will do this, which means this point is more about how seeing a poorly structured post gives evidence of it having been made by a human.

Long dashes. In many of these websites, including Reddit in particular, there is no way to get an em-dash or an en-dash beside using a keyboard shortcut, which a strong majority of people don't know about. Now, I personally am very aware of these shortcuts and sometimes use them (well, I use the em-dash sometimes and the en-dash never) but from a probabilistic perspective, if you see text using an em-dash—which, to be clear, looks like this—it's more likely to have come from an LLM than from a person. I suppose I should also give an example of an en dash, but there's only like 2–3 correct uses for them.

Excessive direct quotes. Humans telling a story about themselves will usually not bring in direct quotes, since remembering an actual quote from a casual conversation is something that almost nobody does. Of course, humans can and do remember and quote single words and phrases, but LLMs will quote entire sentence fragments, even if it doesn't really make sense to do so. Honestly most of the quotes in the above passage make sense to me, but "The spirits have chosen you. I can't fight them anymore." seems a bit on the borderline. 4a. There's also a specific structure that LLMs love to use, where someone describes something with "a descriptor in quotations" and "a second descriptor in quotations". That is, when describing what a person is saying they give exactly two quoted examples. This one doesn't appear in the story above, but you can see a lot of examples in the video.

Common words, phrases and tropes. Let's toss these in a sub-list. Keep in mind that none of these are hard evidence since they are, in fact, common. 5a. "I was floored. I was stunned. I was blown away." LLMs love emphasizing that characters are surprised by things. 5b. Smirking, grinning, or a combination of the two. I'm willing to bet this is specific of AITA LLM posts, but they love making their antagonists smirk. 5c. "My friends and family are split on the issue." LLMs love stating that the people around the poster have divided opinions about the issue, on account of that's what the AITA subreddit is focused on. This is especially egregious because a lot of the LLM stories have one perspective that is very clearly in the right, to the extent that anyone taking the other side would need to be downright malicious. We have a very good example here: Her friends are divided; half of them are taking her side while the other half say she should have "just kicked him out the normal way", you know, the thing she'd been trying to do for six months. 5d. Overhearing whispers to a stunning degree of accuracy, especially if it's about a contentious topic. 5e. "So, Reddit, AITA?" Honestly seems pretty weak as evidence to me since like 60% of human posts end this way, but apparently LLMs are more likely to use that specific phrasing, and more likely to provide a little summary of the problem after asking. This ties in to point 2, so the same caveats from there apply. In our case, I'd also like to point out that this summary doesn't really fit the story; nowhere does it seem that Steve is "emotionally clingy". He just seems like a normal loser. Also, from the comments of the video: 5f. "So buckle up, because here's where it gets wild." LLMs enjoy nothing more than a good escalation. We have a "now here's where it gets spicy" in this one as well.

So funny you forget to laugh. LLMs love making the most milquetoast wink-to-the-camera jokes you've ever seen. It's hard to describe the theme of them in words, but honestly for me the hard part is to clock them as attempted jokes in the first place since they're so terribly not funny. I think "which, honestly, was kind of flattering" might have been an attempted joke. I can't tell because I can't see if the author is winking to the camera or not.

Unbelievable details. Your standard "and everyone clapped" fare: strangers being invested in your issues, crazy coincidences, and contrived happenings. The ferret thing is one example, as is the bluetooth speaker in the walls, but neither of those seem too ridiculous on their own to me. The weirdest part for me was the friend using special effects makeup to "pretend to be a Victorian child ghost in the hallway mirror." How would that even work? Surely for him to see her in the hallway mirror, she would have to be behind him in the hallway? Also, what kind of makeup changes your height to be that of a child? 7a. A complete lack of emotional investment in the part of the poster. Real people are usually reluctant to leave long-term relationships, and will basically always have some strong emotions about doing so, but LLMs typically either paper this over with a simple phrase like "I was devastated" or (as we see in this example) fail to mention any emotional reaction at all. 7b. Omitting parts of the story that people usually include, and in particular the breakup process itself. How much of the stuff in her apartment was his? She states that he "packed a bag" and left; were all of his worldly possessions in there? Real breakups have logistics and annoyances, especially between people who had been living together.

Woah that's a wacky premise! LLM stories will generally have more outlandish titles and premises than real ones. (This can unfortunately only really be used as a test if you're on the actual subreddit, since the posts that get screenshot and spread are always such posts anyways.) Faking a haunted house definitely fits the bill. 8a. Another tip for finding them natively on Reddit is to check their comment history. LLM comments will be the most therapy-textbook all-affirming statements, every time. 8b. Everyone sucks! Stories in which every single person is being antagonistic to a cartoonish degree are way better at generating engagement than those in which characters are at all reasonable.

So, of all these red flags, which ones does the story raise? We've got clear violations of 1 and 2 (although not 1a) which could mean nothing. They're safe on point 3, with no long dashes in sight. Point 4 is questionable at best; definitely more quotation than usual, but still not at a level that I find strange. From the canned tropes we have 5c, 5e, and 5f. Jury's out on 6 and honestly I'm not sure if I'd be able to find an example even if it were there. Clear violations of 7, 7a, and 7b; crimes against plausibility that suggest the story is at least made up by a human, if not an LLM. Finally, a violation of point 8, although they're fine on 8b and it's impossible to verify 8a since their account has mysteriously vanished (as far as I could find).

In summary, while we can never be fully sure, the story contains enough of the hallmarks of LLM writing that I'm willing to at least entertain the possibility. I'd say pretty certain fake, and probable LLM story.

[amoremagnificentbastard]

🌹

Diana licks her lips, looking for words. "But there's a formula. A script, if you will. And it's always the same -- nothing changes."

Astarion places the pads of his fingers under her chin, tilting her head to look at him. "Just like there is a script for every situation in life one may encounter," he says. "You simply have to learn the lines."

[omniverseexplorer]

“I AM”

“I AM” may seem like a couple of words that create a sentence of your sense of identity, but it is so much more than that. In other words, the “I AM” is the truest essence of the Omniverse/God/Pure Awareness/Pure Consciousness, which is YOU! The “I AM” has also been referred to as the “void state” within the law of assumption and reality shifting community, which once again is just you in your truest essence of pure awareness aka the “I AM.” The “I AM” encompasses everything that could possibly exist, if you can imagine it (or can’t), it exists. The “I AM” is infinite, eternal, omnipotent, and limitless. Everything is possible and exists right now. This is what grants us the power to reality shift and manifest. There is no such thing as unrealistic, nonexistence, impossible, limitations, separation, fiction, or illogical. Therefore, nothing can exist outside of “I AM”, it is everything and nothing. We are literally the “I AM” experiencing itself; we are nothing, everything, everywhere, all at once. We are all One with the “I AM.” When our physical body dies if we assume it dies then we return to our original truest essence of pure awareness aka the “I AM.” When you manifest or reality shift you are identifying and being the person who already has the desire or is already in your desired reality and become aware of the other reality, which always begins with “I AM”. Therefore, when you simply identify with “I AM” you are limitless, infinite, omnipotent, eternal everything, everywhere all at once, and nothing at the same time of the Omniverse/God/Pure Awareness/Pure Consciousness which is YOU. The “I AM” is the ultimate foundation of the Omniverse/God/Pure Awareness/Pure Consciousness aka YOU. 

[lunamoon1239]

Last I checked, Uganda is one singular country. As the daughter of a South African WHITE man I am far more aware than most that not every country in Africa is black dominated. When I said I don’t know specifics, I meant it. I take full accountability if Uganda was a poor example but the only other African country that would come to mind in that moment was South Africa which I know is not black dominated, which I thought was the case for Uganda. I also never said that white people were the most marginalized in Uganda as I highly doubt that to be the case. If I implied that, I apologize, it was not my intent. No where in my statement did I generalize Africa though, so I don’t know why you think I did. Again, I apologize if I was wrong about Uganda specifically, but I intentionally used that specific country for a reason. That reason being a vague recollection of it not being actively ruled by a white government, if that recollection is incorrect I will amend my thinking. When I said that black people were not the most marginalized, I meant they were not the most marginalized, not that they weren’t marginalized at all. And again, I also didn’t mean that white people were the most marginalized. In fact, assuming that was my intent kind of proves my point. Which was that it’s not just black and white people. That non black and white races are often overlooked in these discussions. I’m genuinely not very certain what you meant at the start of your all lives matter sentence, so if you could please clarify I would appreciate it. I’m incredibly aware of and disgusted by the still very present colonialism in not just Africa, but nearly every continent and country in the world. And that’s why I think it’s important to bring other races into the conversation. Not only do most other races outnumber white people just on their own, but all together they outnumber them to such a dramatic degree that it’s impossible to ignore the insanity that is the idea of white supremacy. How can a race most likely born out of a genetic mutation in response to a change in diet possibly be any better than any other race in any significant way? The simple answer is they can’t, so instead of trying to be better people, white supremacists fear monger and threaten and lie to push themselves up. And unfortunately it has worked for so long that they have wormed their way into almost every nation. I got a bit off track there I think, sorry. My point is it’s not black against white. It’s everyone against racism.

white t girl i love you. and also do not forget that you are not the modern martyr for the oppressed voice. that's still black girls. it's always been black girls. stories of black martyrdom simply don't make it into the news cycle until the unrest caused by its reporting can be packaged as a "riot" segment between traffic reports. i know you suffer, but whatever you're experiencing, i beg you, when interacting with your community and building nuanced understandings of each other and the system which binds us, to not forget that a black tgirl has felt it 100 times worse before positioning yourself as an authority on all systems of oppression for having suffered unjustly at all. because you have suffered unjustly, but suffering unjustly as a white person means something so much different.

[urstruly-ghst]

im pretty strong, see? - heartslabyul !

in which a you, someone significantly shorter, carries him like a princess!

author's note: do u ever wanna cuddle trey.

octatrio ver.

riddle rosehearts

riddle is very active, he may look petite for a boy his age, but he can put up some fight. his mother urges him, as always, to be fit and healthy. what is a doctor if there are not healthy? so, riddle never underestimates anyone.

however, despite being aware that looks does not equal to strength, riddle still finds it a big struggle when you casually carry him as if he was just a light flower. you were laughing as you picked him up with ease and swinging him around as if he was some princess in those movies.

"my rose!" riddle yelped as he clung onto your shorter frame. he was flushed and trying to find a rule in his mind to see if there was a rule against just lifting him up; there has to be one!

"put me down! but gently, this is unfit for the image of the queen!"

trey clover

trey is very big, even if he likes to think he is average. he is known to have a semblance of being "built" due to him carrying sacks of flour, kneading big batches of dough, and more physical activities that may entail his daily routine.

even if he was known to be perceptive of everyone's traits at one point, trey was still in for a shock to see you just carry him with no tension, as if he wasn't literally the giant between you two.

"dear, am i not heavy?" trey said as he sees you lift him up with no pain or even complaints. you giggle and shake your head, trying to swing him again but trey yelped and even gripped hard on your frame.

"it might be best to put me down!" trey flushed as ever as he tried to reason. though, even if he was completely blindsided, he was oddly charmed. what other things have you hidden under his watchful eyes

cater diamond

cater wasn't always active nor was he built, but he goes to the gym and he has a whole section and "dump" of photos for his escapades there. cater also looooved to tease you on how your stature was smaller compared to his, he deems himself as "cay the strong"

it would soon be "cay has been defeated" as you carry him to lift him to reach one higher up rose on the tall rose bush. before he can summon another cater to help him, you lifted him up!

"split..! wah!" cater squealed as he wasn't done saying his spell to summon his clone. he saw you lift him up with a smile as you gesture to the rose he had a hard time reaching. cater blushes as he reluctantly paints the rose.

"am... i not bothering you, sweetie? i can..." he blushes as he finished his duties. you smile and brag how you finally defeated the great cay-kun!

ace trappola

ace wasn't that strong, but he bluffs about it. it was something he always does with that grin, alongside kissing his bicep and proclaiming he's "so strong" because "he needs to protect you."

he would soon be eating his words when you carried him as you both run away from another incident grim put you in. ace was clinging but also convincing himself he cast a spell on you so you can be strong.

"hah! like my spell, i totally cast that so we can run faster hahaha... haa" ace say as you put him down. you look at him and played along, and gracefully bowed at him.

but then you picked him up again and he screams, "put me down!" but deep down, ace enjoys it.

deuce spade

deuce is strong, ever since he was training under vargas, he has grown more muscles than before. deuce has those biceps from also lifting machinery stuff. so imagine his shock when the both of you were carrying the same thing, he thought ace was next to him!

after all that work, you still had the gall to carry him too. deuce blushes as he sputters a random sentence, not making any sense.

"uh... uhm.. prefect!" deuce said as you carried him while laughing. he had no idea how you both ended up in this situatio, what was the context? but it didn't matter because you, someone with a significantly smaller stature, carried him as if it was a breeze.

"am i not heavy?!" he asks with the biggest blush

[silknspice]

RUN IT ˳ᐟ

⎯ ୨୧ pairings: f1 racer! vi x reader , f1 racer! caitlyn x reader

⎯ ୨୧ content: lowercase intended, slight nsfw, fluff, girl who knows nothing about f1, not proofread/spellchecked.

✇ f1 racer vi who’s number six for ferrari. she caught your eye after a race, sweaty pink hair and fiery red suit perfectly wrapped around her muscular body. she first spotted you after a race with a few of your friends. as you locked eyes and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, she knew you’d be hers. 

✇ f1 racer vi who kisses you before every race. suited up, pulling in your frame by the hips and kissing you as passionate as she always does. needy, soft, emotional. she’s never the first to pull away, and she makes sure to follow your lips as you let go. as routine goes, she’ll gently caress the left side of your face, a contrast to her rough overworked palms. she’ll look you in the eyes and whisper sweet nothings about how you’re her “good luck charm” and how much she cherishes you so. she’ll never tell you that these final moments are out of worry. she’s not as reckless as when you first met, but she’s also aware that anything could happen during a race. she has to make sure she holds you one last time, just in case. 

✇ f1 racer vi who’s one of the most popular racers amongst fans. some are people who enjoy the sport, others are thirsty teens and young adults who “recognize true beauty” as vi puts it while pointing to her stunning face and sculpted body. you couldn’t disagree. 

✇ f1 racer vi who loves showing you off to her 20 million current insta followers. in fact, half of her instagram is pictures she took of you posing up with her ferrari daytona sp3. originally, it stemmed from a joke. it was a hot summer day and the two of you were on your way out to eat with vi’s brothers, sister (who adores you), and her brother-in-law.

“damn it’s hot as hell out here. my baby must be burning.” 

you laughed at vi’s odd way of wording the sentence. you were wearing less than her. she was clad in a white compression shirt and baggy cargos– you couldn’t finish skimming her over before laughing at the hypocritical words. 

“what are you talkin’ about? i’m fine,” you hummed with a smile, placing your hands at her neck as you leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. 

the pinkette smirked down at you, her lips growing to a full smile as her eyes trailed to the red shining vehicle beside you. “waaasn’t talking about you, sweet thing.” she dragged out her words, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she held back a laugh. 

you scoffed.

“you’re callin’ your car baby now? thought that was reserved for me.” you huffed, making your way over to the front of the car. 

“i have other things reserved for you,” she started, but you flashed her a look that put her back in her place. “don’t tell me you’re jealous of a car, honey.” the amusement on her face was as clear as day. 

“am not.” you claimed, leaning back against the car on your hands, tilting your head at the girl. “i just meant–”

the racer’s agape lips and lack of thought behind her eyes before scrambling for the red cased phone in her pocket made you furrow your brows. “what?-” “stay still baby.” she spoke, and suddenly you were a statue. she lifted her camera before snapping a picture and cheesing down at it like a teenager. 

“perfection.” 

✇ f1 racer vi who now has quick little photoshoots of you with her car at random before leaving the house. sometimes, she’ll give you little props like a cherry lollipop or one of her red hats (she likes to stay on theme). if she thought up or found a new pose to try, she’ll personally angle your hips, hands, legs, and face (even though she could just show you the photo to easily replicate). there’s a 100% chance vi will get extremely handsy, and there’s a 0% chance of failure when it comes to getting the two of you worked up. 

✇ f1 racer vi who is even more appreciative of her car once you decide to give her a soapy bikini car wash. she sits there with awe struck eyes, fingers antsily fidgeting with the thigh area of her pants. watching you press every curve of your body against the glass that deliciously squishes your skin. 

✇ f1 racer vi who will never forget that day and tries to slyly ask you for (many more) car washes. 

✇ f1 racer vi who loves when you leave things around her car. a hair accessory around the gear shift, lip glosses that you forgot to grab or dropped on the floor without noticing, your underwear in her glove box after a late night (that ones her favorite by far). she loves that there’s part of you everywhere. she loves you.

✇ f1 racer vi who loves bringing you up in interviews during media day. any chance she gets, the racer mentions her “angel” with the most genuine smile on her face. 

✇ f1 racer vi who refuses to let you drive her cars. of course, you’re not dependent on her. she bought you the car of your dreams a week after you two made it official. but when it comes to vi’s cars she is the only one who touches her babies (you still can’t get over that.) 

✇ f1 racer vi who compromises with you. she allows you to drive her car as long as you’re sitting on her lap. illegal? absolutely. dangerous? most definitely. she’ll only allow it on a quick trip to the store, down to ekko’s house, etc. she can’t get over the way it feels to have your body pressed inbetween her thighs, feet controlling the pedals, but violet’s right there incase of an emergency. one arm wraps around your torso while the other gently grazes the bottom of the steering wheel, whereas you grip it with both hands full force.

“wow, look at you go.” she’ll tease you as you turn the car, kissing the spot behind your ear. 

you gently shake your head with disbelief, a joking scoff falling from your lips. “i can drive, violet.” the girl inhaled sharply at her government name before smiling.

“i know,” she cooed, voice dropping a level as she placed another kiss at the base of your throat. “i just like praising you.” 

you hummed, body sinking into the feeling of her arms and lips embracing you. as great as it felt.. 

“alright— okay! vi!” you laughed, attempting the squirm the girl off of you. “stop it before we crash.” 

✇ f1 racer vi who runs to find you as soon as she can after every race without fail. she practically pounces on you, wrapping her strong arms around your waist, picking you up, and spinning you around with a rich laugh while you squeal. she’ll set you down and hold your face in her hands, looking at you with the most loving eyes. she’ll smash your lips together while holding the back of your head and letting her fingers intertwine with your strands. she’s never been afraid of a little pda. 

✇ f1 racer vi who loves seeing the photos of you two (taken by fans or journalists) post-race. she never fails to like, repost on her story, and send them to you. it’s clear to her fans how much she cherishes her girl. 

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who’s number twenty-two for mercedes. you had been by her side since she was in her teens. when she finally started taking karting more seriously. when her mother expressed extreme disappointment with her career choice making caitlyn question her decisions everyday. you were by her side through thick and thin. now, she’s proved everyone who ever doubted her wrong (and made up with her parents, of course). 

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who has a small picture of you in her car for “good luck”. it’s from one of your first dates, a polaroid of you laughing while a small glob of ice cream decorated your cheek. you thought you looked heinous, but it always has been and always will be her favorite photo. she thinks you’re perfect. 

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who keeps other fun photos of you in her glove box. you sprawled out in her backseat in nothing but your undergarments, on your knees for her in front of the driver's seat, even a selfie you took where your arms pressed the flesh of your bare chest together while you eyed the camera with a cheeky grin. needless to say, she sweats whenever anyone but you is in the passenger seat of her car. 

“we haven’t used the polaroid in a while..” caitlyn hummed, looking over to the black camera on one of her ridiculously large bookshelves. you slightly shifted in your position, the blanket protecting your bare bodies as you rested your head right above her chest, body almost laying atop hers. 

“no.. we haven’t...” you simply agreed.she took the arm that wasn’t wrapped around your waist and put it behind her head, looking relaxed as her gaze trailed to yours with a soft smirk. 

“you wanna give me some more car decor, love?” 

you smiled against your will, lifting your head to look at the girl. 

“greed is a sin, kiramman. besides, are you sure you want more? your father was dangerously close to opening that compartment, and id hate to give him more of a heart attack than he already would’ve.” the girl cringed at the memory, lifting a hand up to cover her eyes with a laugh. 

once the laughter died down, your eyes locked to one another, as they always do. her persuasive eyes were your kryptonite. why the hell would anyone ever say no to that. 

you bit your lip, letting the blanket slide off of your body as you sat up. 

“well? what are you waiting for?”

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who takes you everywhere. think of her as your personal chauffeur. it’s not that she wants to be controlling, but what on earth do you need to drive for when she’s right there? 

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who (happily) allows you to do her hair before every race. due to regulations, the bluenette has to have her hair pulled back when racing. as much as you love seeing her in that infamous ponytail, it's much more fun seeing your cool, tough, racer girlfriend with her hair in a cute braided low bun.

✇ f1 racer caitlyn who’s aware of the attention she gets from other girls at races, but ignores it all, because no one compares to you. despite her constant mentions of having a girlfriend on social media, reposting all of your content, and only following you (and her sponsors) on instagram, some people just won’t give up. she tries to be polite at first, assuming a fan is coming up for a quick picture and some praise. but after a bat of their eye lashes and a hand that grazes caitlyn’s arm, she’s a stone cold menace. she’ll roll her eyes, sending annoyed glares and pushing past the crowd as professionally as she can to get to you. it’s not until she has her girl in her arms, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, that she can smile. 

©silknspice

caitlyn's bit was so short cause i used all my good ideas on vi </33, love her tho. hope it's still enjoyable!

INSPIRED BY: kindamaxedout art on twitter !!

[venusdews]

sweet serendipity

zayne [黎深] + female reader

synopsis. you disrupt zayne's routine when you stumble into his bookstore. he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't want it to happen again.

genre & contents. romantic meet cute, shopkeeper!zayne, actress!reader, inspired by notting hill (ofc), yearning men (zayne), short n sweet wc ; 2.1k

author's note. i saw a post saying something about librarian zayne and thought wait… let's take that further…. also i just love notting hill and imagining zayne in glasses. enjoy <3

It’s a quiet morning for Zayne.

The sun was coming in delicately through his bookstore’s windows, at the same time it always did. A pale blue mug sits at the register, the one he used everyday to make his cup of coffee. Students from the nearby university were walking briskly past the shop to their 8 AM lectures. Soft piano ballads spilled from his computer into the small space.

Everything was the same.

Some may find it monotonous, this morning routine of his. But to Zayne, he wouldn’t ask for anything else. This is exactly how he liked it.

Zayne was sitting behind the register, ready to tally today’s inventory. In the opening hours of his quaint little bookstore, there was rarely another person with him. Except for his assistant, Yvonne, who came in earlier on the weekends. Customers usually start coming in later in the afternoon, so he used this time to focus on the upkeep his books demanded. 

It was a sacred time, just for him.

He takes his blue-inked pen, just about to mark his clipboard when the bell above the door chimes.

Zayne stirs, surprised to hear the sound so early in the morning. He instinctively looks up, a ‘welcome in’ at the tip of his tongue.

But there was no one.

He watches as the door closes on its own, the only sign that he hadn’t just imagined it. His brows furrowing slightly, he stands up, scanning the bookshelves for any sign of life.

Nothing.

Was Zayne hearing things?

He sighs softly, walking around the counter. He needed to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

He walks down the aisle furthest from the door, slowly peeking around the corner. Zayne doesn’t know why his heart is beating faster. Maybe he was slightly unsettled by the disturbance to his peaceful morning.

And then he sees you.

He stills at the sight, wondering if he’s seeing things now. 

There was no way it was you.

Clad in a black jacket, you stand at the other end of the shop. A matching beret sits atop your head and you’re wearing sunglasses, but Zayne easily recognizes your features.

You take a book from the shelf, but you’re distracted. Eyes focused on the windows intensively.

Zayne doesn’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s only a few feet away. Still, you’re unaware of his presence. He panics, blanking on his words as it seems you’ve left him unable to form a coherent sentence. 

Wow, you smell good. 

And you’re even prettier up close. Those cameras really didn’t do your beauty justice.

His mouth opens and closes, eyes darting around for something, anything, to distract him from how intoxicating you were.

They land on the book in your hand.

When You Are Dreaming: Part One

“That’s a good choice.” The words slip out before Zayne can stop them.

You jump, whipping your head to face… his chest. Your head tilts upwards, eyes trailing up to meet his. Zayne feels his ears burning, surely turning a bright pink now. 

Confusion is clear on your face. “What?”

Your dulcet voice is like music to his ears.

Zayne adjusts the rectangle glasses on his nose, an nervous habit. He clears his throat, pointing to the book in your hands.

You look down, as if you had just become aware of the object in your hands. “Oh,” you whisper softly, more to yourself than him. “Are you a student?”

He can’t help the slight upwards tilt of his lips. “No, I read it for fun.”

“You read academic texts for fun?” It’s a genuine question despite the amused smile on your lips. 

“I do.” he answers, unabashedly.

Your smile widens and you flip the book in your hands. Skimming your fingers over the spine, you look at him intensively through your sunglasses. Zayne can’t help the way his face flushes.  “Part one, huh? Is the sequel any good?”

“The first one is always better. I think they overshot with a second one.”

You giggle, and Zayne briefly wonders what angel blessed him today.

“I’ll take it then.”

If someone had told him Linkon’s most beloved actress would be standing in front of him, taking his book suggestions, Zayne would have laughed in their face.

Yet, here you were looking at him like he was actually saying something of interest to you.

As he guides you to the register, a soft ‘oh no’ falls from your lips. He turns to you, finding a panicked expression on your face. Zayne follows your gaze, catching sight of the flurry of people holding cameras, looking around expectantly. They were just a few feet outside of the shop, any longer and they would definitely see you in here.

Ah, so that’s why you ran in here.

Your brows furrow cutely, as if you’re planning a grand escape in your head.

Zayne can’t help himself.

“You can… go through the back.”

He can see the way your eyes widen under your shades, not expecting his helping hand. Without another word, he motions you to follow him, through his office to the back door. Zayne holds the door open for you, and you don’t hesitate to step into the alley.

You turn to him, smiling brightly. “Thank you.”

He watches as you quickly walk down the alley and turn. He stands there for a bit longer than he’s like to admit. Maybe hoping to catch sight of you once again. But, a sense of disappointment washes over him as he closes the door. Walking back to his clipboard, he looks around his bookshop.

Everything was the same. As if you had never been there at all.

Zayne picks up his pen once again, only then realizing. 

You left with the unpaid book.

And maybe a little more.

                       · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Zayne is embarrassed to admit he finds himself looking for you in every person who walks into his store.

Everytime the bell rings, his head shoots up. And everytime it’s not you, his greetings become a little less enthusiastic. 

He’s also embarrassed to admit he almost fell from the gliding ladder when he caught sight of a black beret.

It was not you.

Yvonne did not try to hide her giggle.

Zayne had kept his encounter with you a secret, knowing how much of a fan she was. And maybe, he wanted to keep the memory for his own safekeeping. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Yvonne eyes Zayne suspiciously, wondering why her calm and collected boss was suddenly looking like a puppy missing its owner. 

Zayne stops his writing, looking up from his notepad to Yvonne. She had stopped stocking books, hands on her hips.

“No,” he replies, curt. “Why do you ask?”

She tilts her head, as if to say I don’t believe you.

“Maybe because you keep looking at the door as if you are.”

He looks back to his notepad, suddenly realizing he’s been caught. It was upsetting enough to admit he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since you stood in his shop a week ago. But to have someone else point it out, that was just humiliating.

Not that he had been doing a good job of hiding it.

“You still have three more boxes in the back.”

Yvonne scoffs, rolling her eyes at his blatant misdirection. She shakes her head, but goes back to refilling the shelves.

Zayne walks away, suddenly feeling too hot. As if to mock him, the door chimes once again. Feeling self-conscious, he ignores it, walking into his office.

He also misses the way Yvonne gasps.

Zayne tries to cool himself down by some water, fanning himself with his notepad. What’s gotten into him? Why was he so stuck on you?

He tells himself that maybe he imagined it, that of course he would feel so enthralled by a movie star. Yeah, that’s all it was. He was just starstruck by you. Zayne should forget about it and stop hoping you’ll—

“Zayne!”

Yvonne’s voice takes him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He turns, coming face to face with a… very red Yvonne. She’s smiling, teeth and all, something he thinks he’s never seen since he’s met her. Her eyes are wide, a nervous twinkle as she stares at him.

“Did something happ—”

“Someone is here to see you,” she cuts him off, hands coming up to cover her mouth. It looks as if she’s trying to contain an explosion from going off.

Zayne’s eyes widen slightly.

It couldn’t be…?

Could it?

He adjusts his glasses, about to push past Yvonne. But, he stops in front of the mirror next to the door, adjusting his hair and collar. Just in case. Yvonne giggles like a schoolgirl as he exits his office.

Zayne swears his heart stops for a moment, because standing in his bookshop once again…

is you. 

You, sunglasses and beret gone, gorgeous face bare for him to see. For him to see you completely. And, god, those eyes were just as mesmerizing as in the movies.

The sun seems to kiss you, cascading over you in a halo. You’re wearing the same jacket you wore before. And when you see him, you shoot him a blinding smile.

Straight to his heart.

It’s like you want him to collapse right then and there. 

“Hi,” you say once he’s standing in front of you. Your hands are holding a book. The one you (technically) stole. 

“Hi.” he says back, suddenly feeling out of breath. 

“I wanted to return this to you. I know I kind of just ran out of here last time. I promise, I fully intended on paying…” you’re rocking on your feet, eyes darting to the side. Were you… nervous?

He finds delight in that thought.

“You don’t want it anymore?”

You laugh, looking down at the book in your hands. “To be honest, I don’t think I'll have time to read it…”

“And, I just wanted to buy it because you seemed to like it.” You look back up at him, a coy smile playing on your lips.

Was he delusional or were you… flirting?

Behind him, there’s a squeal. He looks back to see Yvonne, who quickly ducks into his office to pretend like she wasn’t just eavesdropping. 

You laugh again, and Zayne thinks he could listen to it forever.

“So, anyway,” you start again, and he realizes he hasn’t said a thing. And he did want to, god he did, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. Zayne was embarrassed to admit how many times he had played this scenario in his head. Yet, you hold the book out to him and he takes it, wordlessly, like an idiot.

“I just came by to drop it off.”

“Well, thank you.”

THANK YOU? 

That’s it?

You’re right in front of him and all he can say is thank you?

Zayne feels like the biggest idiot in all of Linkon right now. Standing still and unable to speak to the girl who hasn't left his mind for a second. The girl people would kill to have even a second to speak to.

And he feels like you’re slipping right through his fingers.

You turn, not before flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours again. The type that leaves him wanting more. And all he can do is watch as you walk out of his bookshop, out of his life completely. Leaving nothing behind but the sweet smell of jasmine and cedar.

“Oh my god,” Yvonne is beside him now, leaning over the register counter, hands covering her face. “That is the worst fumble I have ever seen.”

Zayne flushes.

“She was literally right there! Linkon’s darling, coming back for you, and all you say is thank you?!” She tries to mimic his deep voice. 

Well, when she says it like that…

“I…”

For the first time, Yvonne sees her stoic, cold boss become speechless.

Zayne stares at the book in his hands as if he is trying to bore holes into it. As if it was at fault for his failures. Sighing, he places the book on the register. What he’s been wishing for has passed him by and he has no one to blame but himself.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to enter your world. He was just a random shopkeeper in this vast city and you, you were way above his level. What would Linkon’s beloved star actress even be doing with a humble man like himself?

Maybe you two were just ships in the night. 

Zayne thinks he hears Yvonne continue to ramble, but he starts to examine the condition of the book. Making sure it was good to put back onto its shelf, where it truly belonged. He opens it, and his eyes widen.

A slip of paper, tucked in between the cover and the first page.

Your name in cursive lettering, a heart doodled at the end of it.

And your number.

[melanchoire]

hiiii meya,

i love love LOVE ur work and I cant move on from dom!karina x sub!reader with oral fixation

Can we please get one more like that? ❤️

one more and this one is dedicated to you my dear friend~~

OKAY my favorite section on this account: karina and boobies because both are the things that girls love the most!! (check out my drabble about the reader with an oral fixation and my fic about it~ karina told me you all should read them.)

what if this time it’s karina who has an oral fixation? she doesn’t know when or how it started, but the only thing she is aware of and conscious of is the way she always has her gaze on your chest 😊 you tend to be so focused when talking that you never notice her intense gaze on your tits, maybe it’s partly because she hides it quite well, nodding slightly every now and then or responding to what you say to make it seem like she wants to have a conversation. she is listening to you! she is just focused on other things

and karina goes twice as crazy when you don't wear a bra 😵‍💫 when walking in the comforts of your home of course you would opt for a comfortable option, this is also an option that karina agrees with because she loves seeing the curve of your chest when a t–shirt fits snugly against your body…

until you notice her looks 😥 karina thinks she looks sneaky and stealthy, but seeing it from a different point of view and perspective of another person, she is literally staring at your tits, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration while lightly biting her lower lip...

you get her attention by calling her name and shoving her shoulder, making her flinch and blink repeatedly as she comes out of her trance

“karina, are you even listening to me?”

“mmh yeah.”

but she loves the stern, annoyed look you give her when you hear her tone, trying to hold back her smile as she notices how you were starting to get annoyed with her, another thing karina loved! getting dirty looks, purposely pissing you off just to watch you practically nail her just by looking at her 🥰

“c’monnn babe, relax a little.” and she is putting her hands on your hips, practically forcing you onto her lap while giving you an amused smile when she sees that you’re completely ignoring her…

“you’re an idiot.”

“i am now?” UGHH AND SHE TILT HER HEAD AS GRIN AGAIN???

“you’re staring at my tits like a pervert. not even a baby would be as obsessed as you.”

“aww, but i would love to be a baby so i could have your tits in my mouth.” and she does it!

now karina making you sit on her lap, letting you continue talking about whatever you were saying before, looking straight into your eyes through her eyelashes as her tongue circles your nipple and slowly her mouth surrounds it 😵‍💫 making you stop mid–sentence and gasp, thinking karina would say something about it, either a joke or a taunt, but no! she just hums a little, releasing your nipple from between her lips for a moment to say “you were saying? i’m listening.” in the most casual way as if she wasn’t making your head spin

but she is a bit of a tease too 😭 nibbling and sucking on your nipples harder than she should when you're deep in thought or mid–sentence, enjoying how an involuntary moan leaves your lips, feigning innocence when you look at her with annoyance and returning to sucking your tits with the tranquility she was having before

KARINA WITH A HAIR PULLING KINK? i honestly had an obsession with her when she used to have long, silky black hair during 2021, which makes me believe that she likes to feel hands on her locks, but karina with short hair gives me a somewhat similar vibe… SO it doesn’t matter if it’s long or short hair, karina loves to feel your hands pulling her hair to push her closer to your chest, demanding her attention

and karina won’t go to bed until she gets your nipples sensitive enough for you to cum just by having them played with! rest assured

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.3. how was your first night together?

➴ warnings: nsfw, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), use of the word slut, bit of humiliation, dacryphilia, subspace kinda?, protected sex, nipple sucking, curse words, aftercare, cockwarming, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 2.2k

➴ author’s note: i have nothing to say for myself… also, this is the first straight smut I write in YEARS. so pls bear with me… also2, im highly aware that jack is probably a cutie pie during sex (and dw!! we’ll get there eventually) but something abt this jack… makes me dizzy. hope u all enjoy!!

—♡

LEAVING the party with this man— you still didn’t even know his name— was probably the best decision you had ever made, after auditioning for that one show that changed your life back when you were thirteen.

The pretty boy drove you to his actual house and rested his hand on your thigh the entire ride. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with the thought of letting a man, who you barely even knew, fuck you senseless.

Maybe Grace was right and you did have a little bit of a thing for humiliation.

Although nothing compared to when he opened the door of his huge house for you, and kissed you before he had even closed it properly. His kiss was bruising and angry, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of strength and you could swear you were melting in his arms.

“Fuck,” you moaned, sitting on his lap. “What’s your name?”

He laughed, eyes red and mouth swollen. “You don’t know who I am?”

“No?” You raised your eyebrow, smirking.

“I’m Jack Hughes.” He said, looking bothered by the fact that you didn’t know who he was.

“Hi, Jack Hughes,” you said, rocking your hips against his. “I’m Sophia.”

“Oh, I know who you are, baby,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That concert Nico went to? I was there too.”

Now that surprised you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” He was the one smirking now. You rolled your eyes.

“Less yapping and more fucking. I’m starting to think you’re full of shit.”

You barely had time to finish breathing after your sentence before he grabbed you by your waist, and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He somehow managed to climb up the stairs while holding you and hell if that didn’t make you wetter. You could feel your panties sticky and glued to your intimate part, and honestly there wasn’t anything that you wanted more than to remove them.

He placed you in the bed, gentler than you’d expect him to, and you watched as he removed his suit, his toned abs making you clench around nothing. He pushed his somewhat long hair back before getting his hands on you again.

“Let’s get this monstrosity out of you,” he growled before almost ripping the jersey out of you. You laid on the bed now wearing just your bra and your mini-skirt. “Much better.”

You turned around, deciding that he deserved a show. Removing your bra, you actually moaned when you felt the cold air hit your hard nipples. You fought the need of touching them, and went straight to removing your skirt and panties, not letting yourself feel shy or embarrassed.

You felt Jack’s hands on you, turning you around and getting you on your knees. He looked at you like a predator and from just one look at his pants, you could tell that that man was packed.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do, baby,” he whispered, blue eyes staring down at you. “You’re gonna sit that sweet, needy cunt on my face, and I’m gonna eat you out until you’re coming. Then,” he stepped closer, not breaking eye contact. “I’m gonna fuck you fast and rough. That’s how I like it. And with that slutty face of yours,” he scoffed, eyes full of lust and desire. “I’m guessing that’s how you like it too.”

You bit your lips, nodding with your head, because you didn’t trust yourself enough to do anything besides moaning.

He removed the rest of his clothes and, yay, you were right, but also— fuck. You were right. His cock was big and thick and looked like it would reach your stomach and rearrange your organs.

Just how you liked it.

He laid on the bed and grabbed your hips, making you sit on his face, and when the tip of his tongue met your aching clit, you swear you saw stars.

You were holding yourself on the headboard, not wanting to hurt him. He looked like a great guy, and didn’t deserve to die because he suffocated during sex.

But it looked like he had other plans.

“I think I told you to sit your cunt on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do as I fucking say.” Even though he said it, he was the one who grabbed your thighs and pulled you down, making your pussy cover his entire mouth.

Your moans were probably heard from across the street, but you didn’t care. It had been way too long since your last time and this? This was heaven. Jack was a fucking munch. The way he licked your clit and fucked his tongue inside you? Yeah, he knew what he was doing.

“J-Jack, fuck,” you heard yourself saying, eyes starting to feel wet and mind going all blank. “God, what the fuck.”

The wet noises could be heard whenever your moans came out softly, and his hands on your thighs only made it all better, because you knew it would bruise. You knew it would leave a mark there and it felt so good to know that this was the man marking you up.

You looked down by accident and you came right on the spot when you made eye contact with the man underneath you; it should have been embarrassing to look at him eating you out but it wasn’t anything like that. You felt owned and desired. You felt whole.

He removed his lips from your pussy, not before licking it a few times, and turned you around, him on top of you. He moved so he could grab the condom from the bedside table— fuckboy move, totally— and you watched as he put it on.

He kissed you one more time while he inserted himself on you, not really giving you the time to adjust. You felt your hole burning, and it felt good. You were so wet that the squelching sounds were almost embarrassing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He was hitting you on the right spots.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, slamming into you with force. “Pussy so ‘fuckin tight for me. Holy shit.”

“Harder, p-please,” you heard yourself saying and you saw how his bright, blue eyes were changing into a dark, ocean color. You saw danger in them.

“You’re still speaking so I guess I’m not doing my job the right way, huh?” He said, taking almost all of his cock out just to slam it back into you with strength.

Your mind was going to a very strange place where you couldn’t really think straight and even though that should be scary, you felt nothing but… free.

The pleasure was so fucking good and your pussy had never felt so satisfied, as corny as it sounded. He had his lips on your right nipple, sucking and biting, his right hand rubbing your clit fast and precise, while his dick slammed into you with the right amount of pressure.

You could feel the tension building up inside of you and you knew you were going to come again, and soon, but when you tried to say something, warn him, it felt like you had grabbed a stick of glue and glued your mouth shut.

But it was too much, your legs were trembling and your eyes were wet, tears cascading down your face. You knew your face was red and probably slutty like Jack had said but it didn’t matter.

“Poor slut can’t even talk, mhm?” You heard Jack mock you, and fuck if it didn’t make you clench your hole around his dick. “You liked being called that, didn't you? Little slut. My brainless, stupid slut.”

His hand started to move faster on your clit and you tried to close your legs, out of pure instinct.

“None of that, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, still fucking you rough and hard. “Keep those pretty, little legs open for me. Isn’t that what you’re here for? Letting me, a guy who you barely know, fuck you senseless.”

You were fully crying now, holding onto him with so much force, secretly thankful that he was a Hockey player and probably used to all the roughness.

“I-I’m gonna,” you mumbled, not even thinking straight.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me and wet my bed sheets even more?”

You felt yourself nodding, biting your lips when you felt yourself coming. Jack was still fucking you, searching for his own release. He lifted himself just enough to grab you by your waist and slam himself into you, over and over again.

Your tits went up and down and your eyes went to the back of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up now, baby. C’mon, sweetheart, I’m gonna come, fuck.” Jack cursed, thrusting into you one last time, before coming inside the condom.

All you could hear were your sniffles and his breathing. Your legs were still shaking and your body felt the same way it did whenever you had a fever.

You could hear Jack moving, but you only acted when you felt himself removing his dick. “N-No. Please, stay. Just… for a bit?” You sounded fragile, almost insecure, and you hated it. It wasn’t anything like you, at all. You had guys and girls throwing themselves at you everyday— not that it mattered, you never took interest in any of them— so you shouldn’t act like a needy… slut.

But your fucked up brain couldn’t handle the thought of Jack leaving you. So, you did what you could. Begged.

You heard him chuckling and before your brain could tell you that he was laughing at your request, you felt him moving you both around and, without removing his cock from you, he managed to lay on the bed and let you on top of his, your head on the crock of his neck, your intimate parts still connected.

You sighed, content and full, feeling even better when he put the duvet on top of you both, making you snuggle even closer. He chuckled again.

“Feeling very cozy in there, right, sweetheart?” He mumbled, and you smiled, even if he couldn’t see. He smelled like sandalwood and something else, something that didn’t smell like a cologne or anything like that— just him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, you probably snoozed after a minute or two, but you woke up startled, feeling empty because he had just removed himself from you. You whined.

“We need to clean you up, c’mon,” he said, rising from the bed and taking you with him. He didn’t seem to care that you were both naked and you looked like you had seen better days— your makeup was all smudged and your eyeliner was long gone. But you felt so freaking good. “I need you to pee. I’ll wait for you outside if you want.”

You looked at the man in front of you, who looked nothing like the cocky guy who hit on you not even three hours ago. He looked soft and gentle, and you were all here for it.

“That’d be great, thank you,” you said softly, and he kissed you on the forehead, before leaving and closing the door behind him. You looked at your reflection in the big ass mirror in front of you and sighed, smiling. You looked fucked but damn. You felt like you had just hit the jackpot.

And maybe you had.

You peed and cleaned yourself, trying to remove the remains of your makeup with wet paper. It didn’t do much, but it was better than going out there looking like Chucky’s bride.

You opened the bathroom door, feeling cold once again. Now that your body temperature was going back to normal, you felt cold walking around naked.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

It should be illegal for someone to look this good after rearranging my organs.

“I picked some of my clothes for you. You won’t be sleeping in my bed with Nico’s ugly jersey,” he raised his brow, looking truly upset with Nico’s shirt.

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not going to spend the night. That is against the rules of a one night stand.”

It felt stupid to say shit like that, but it was true. Now that the sex drive was going away, you regained some of your senses and confidence and you knew that being a clingy bitch wouldn’t get you anything.

“I mean, I can sleep in my guest room if sleeping with me makes you uncomfortable, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back to your house alone at one in the fucking morning.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Hughes,” you heard yourself saying and you wanted to slap yourself. Where did the attitude even come from anyway? “Besides, I’ll just get an Uber.”

“The fuck you will,” he laughed— he actually laughed. You couldn’t believe it. “Lay down. With how hard I fucked you, you should be like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty anytime now.”

You suppress a giggle, giving in. So easy. “You’re annoying as fuck.”

“Funny, you didn't say that when I was eating your pussy.” He shrugged and climbed on the right side of his bed.

Your face went all shades of red.

“Come on, Sophia. Think about your poor consequences tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and climbed on his king sized bed. He wrapped his hands around your waist and you put your head in his chest, and listened to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.

He was right. You could manage the consequences tomorrow.

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[stellamarielu]

I would love if you could write something about drunk Declan coming home all horned up 🙂‍↕️ or meeting Declan in a pub on St Patrick’s day and there’s shameless flirting/ dirty mouth on this man 🍀

pls and ty 🫶🏻

you had me at drunk horny declan!!!! i’m going bezerk rn, like fully screaming a praise of hallelujah from the mountaintops.

quick smutty drabble about horny declan and his dirty mouth after one too many drinks

Declan had been out with rupert and freddie all night celebrating, and you didn’t mind one bit— you liked it when he cut loose from work and had a little fun with his friends. but tonight he’d had more than just a little fun.

You were cuddled in bed, your nose deep in a book when you heard the front door open. The rustling in the kitchen followed by heavy footsteps up the stairs revealed Declan leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, all disheveled with a love-drunk smile plastered across his face.

“There she is.” His voice held a more-than-tipsy tone as he admired you from across the room.

“Here I am.” You giggled as you closed your book setting it down on the bedside table.

Declan hastily tore his already loosened tie from his neck and shed his jacket, letting it fall on the floor as he waltzed over to the bed. He climbed up next to you, crawling over and pulling you in for a sloppy, impassioned kiss.

“Been thinkin’ bout you all night.” He let his lips wander to your jaw, sucking a spot right underneath your ear— something he knew drove you wild. A sigh fell from your lips causing him to smile in satisfaction.

“Woah there big guy,” You were using all of your strength to create space between the two of you, pushing gently on his chest.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath and hear the way his words stumbled into each other as they left his lips.

You knew drunk Declan when you saw him, and you were also well aware that if he didn't have a glass of water and a full night of sleep he would spend the following day in complete agony.

“Since when does that matter. You keepin’ tabs on me?” He sat back on his heels, a goofy smile playing on his lips as he waited for your response.

“No I just-“

“My sweet girl worried about takin’ advantage of me?” His smirk grew ten times wider as he watched you roll your eyes at his words.

“You need sleep Declan. And a shower, you smell like a distillery.”

“I’ll shower… just let me have a little fun first.” he was grabbing at your thighs and pulling them apart, moving his body between your legs.

You were writhing in his touch, attempting to push him away as his hands pulled at your pajama shorts. You were trying your best to put on a stern face, but you couldn't keep a soft chuckle from your lips at the feeling of his mustache against your stomach as he placed long sloppy kisses on your skin.

“C’mon love, need ya so bad.” His voice was gravely, full of infatuation and alcohol fueled lust.

You gave in, acting in compliance as you let your fingers lace through his curls while he pulled your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Been thinkin’ bout this perfect little cunt all night.” His voice was muffled by the flesh of your thighs as he pressed his face against them, kissing and licking your skin in his inebriated haze.

“Just let me have it baby then I’ll shower and go to bed. Swear, I’ll do whatever ya want, just wanna taste ya first.”

Hearing his words reminded you that Declan had two habits that emerged without fail every time he was drunk.

The first was an unrestrained pattern of affection. He would be all over you. It didn't matter when or where, he just wanted to be near you— touching you. After he got a few drinks in his system Declan became completely and utterly obsessed, shoving the rest of the world away to keep all your love for himself.

And second, he wouldn't shut the fuck up. The incoherent mumbles and run-on sentences that would leave Declan's whiskey-soaked mouth were damn near impressive. He would talk about everything and nothing at the same time, never letting you get a single word in.

So in moments like this; when the two drunken traits came out to play at the same time, you were always amused and a bit turned on. Being the target of his affectionate rambles was a weakness of yours and you would surrender to him every single time.

“Baby…” The word was partially a warning but held the cadence of a beg as you dug your fingertips further into his hair.

“Just wanna make you feel good, s'all I want. All I’ve thought about all goddamn day.” His breath landed right on your core as he pushed his tongue flat against your center, licking a thoughtless stripe through your folds.

You moaned at the sudden contact, your head falling back on your pillow as little hums of approval left your lips with each messy kiss he placed on your clit.

“That’s it sweetheart, just relax.” His praise was laced with feral desire as his mouth worked between your legs. He was so caught up in it— your pleasure. Getting off on the little whimpers bubbling up out of your throat and your hips softly bucking against his face.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” His voice came through in a slur as he sucked on your clit.

You peered down at Declan watching as your hands held onto his dark curls, his head buried between your thighs. It was impossible to miss the movement of his body as his hips bucked into the mattress.

He was grinding against the bed, using the friction to aid in his own release. The sight of it had the pressure in your body pounding— fighting to snap.

“Christ I just love you so much.” His mumble held an insatiable amount of devotion, as did the way his lips and tongue worked you toward your release.

“Wanna stay right ‘ere all night.”

Between filthy words and the sloppy wet sounds of Declan’s mouth against you, his hands gripped harder at your thighs pulling them further apart and giving him even more access to your body.

“Declan” It slipped past your lips in a delicate whisper and he couldn’t help the way his hips rutted against the sheets at the sound of his name, so angelic and perfect on your lips.

“Say it again.” He demanded, hips thrusting into the bed and tongue pushing at your entrance.

You obliged, his name tumbling from your mouth yet again, sending him into a state of pure primal instinct.

In a mess of dirty, muddled, carnal inclination, Declan let his mouth bring you to your release. A deep groan escaping him as felt your core soften and your back arch off the bed. He wanted to do it again and again. He didn't even let up as you came down from your high, your hands pulling at his hair and his name repeatedly whispered from your mouth in surrender.

"One more? Please sweetheart" His voice held a hint of laziness but his movements persisted, messy and desperate.

You sighed in defeat as you let the stubborn irishman below you have his way. After all who were you to deny him what he wanted when he asked so politely?

[gigislandofrandom]

I am fully aware that I may lose respect from some Catholics here on Tumblr for saying this, but I honestly do not care. I’m enraged that I even have to say this, but I’m going to anyway.

Lately, I’ve been seeing SO many Catholics on social media talking about how bad the Jews are, how they’re sinners for not turning to Jesus, and all those other sickening diatribes. So if you’re one of these people, I have a message for you.

You are also a sinner. I am also a sinner. Your neighbor is also a sinner. Your parish priest is also a sinner. Your husbands, wives, and parents are also sinners. Your bishop is a sinner. Even the Holy Father, Pope Francis himself, is a sinner.

So why, then, are the sins of the Jews suddenly so much more severe than yours or mine? And don’t come at me with all that, “the Jews killed Jesus” tripe. The Sanhedrin didn’t even have the authority to carry out the death sentence. What do you think Pilate was there for?

So, again, why are the sins of the Jews so much worse than ours, in the minds of my fellow so-called “Catholics?” I’ll tell you why. It’s because, to them, of the simple fact that the Jews are Jews, and they have the audacity to exist with us in the world. That is called discrimination, bigotry, and racism, and none of those things have any place in Holy Mother Church.

This entire discourse is rooted in hate. And hate does not come from God. It comes from SATAN. And I will have NOTHING to do with Satanic hatred of Jews, or of any group.

Because Jesus didn’t only die for Christians. He died for Muslims. He died for Hindus. He died for Buddhists. He died for Republicans. He died for Democrats. He died for black people. He died for Hispanic people. He died for Asian people. He died for African people. He died for straight people. He died for gay people. He died for trans people.

He died for us all. And yes, He died even for the Jews.

Repent, take up your cross, and believe the good news.

+JMJ+

[bnsni]

TO LIVE, AND TO SERVE

part one

(tfo. sentinel x gn.miner.reader )

spoilers! just in case. nothing plot heavy spoilers but yk just in case.

one, two, three

CHAINS clinked against the ground. Ones, you realize that were yours as you try to lift up your pedes, only for it to stop short a few centimeters high and drag back down again with a hackle. Alright, so you're shackled. Easy, just flip over and see where I am.

You tried. Tried. To flip over, but all you could manage was a wiggle and that's just about it. Your servos were chained to your back. And your neck was sore bent at a position for so long. The ground was grimy and dark and your cheek — Primus it was sore —was pressed against the floor.

Where am I?

A migraine pulsed behind your optics, coupled with a familiar faint ache thrumming from your abdomen, freshly sore.

Oh, right.

A kick to the shin and one to the helm. A blur of colors. Then, a throttle. Darkwing, you grimaced. You should've known better than to play hero and help. A creak sounded, hinges of a metal door opening and your neck strained from frantic ways of trying to look over your shoulder.

—Proved futile.

"Oh, you don't have to run." A voice echoed, a cave-like resonance that trilled and bounced off the walls of the cell. "I've already made sure that you couldn't."

The shadow stretched across the floor. It became larger, molding in size. Into shape. You try to speak, but all that came out were incoherent slurs of sentences. Each one increased with panic. Intake, slack, faceplate numb. And that, to your unfortunate demise, amused the Prime.

"No worries, though, Airachnid's venom aren't usually that fatal. Well, usually. But this time I advised, and I'm glad she listened, to use her lesser death-inducing ones. Ones that take an instant. Its a bit of a mess when anomalies die."

His pedes stopped beside your helm. "And you know that... don't, you?" Another babble from you made him laugh. "Hah. You look ridiculous. Here, allow me."

A harsh tug on your back flipped you over and you grunted, finally able to relish some light from the ceiling. Sentinel prime loomed above you, a grin on his face.

Oh, Primus.

You never thought this was how you'd meet your beloved Prime. Besides, any other way would result your spark snuffed and churned into energon. The ache in your abdomen pierced into a searing pain. You winced.

"You know what that is? Its a kind of paralysis that only affects your body, not your helm." He tapped your forehead.

Tink.

Tink.

"Your mind still works. You can think, you can feel. I can see your optics are still bright." He tips his helm, curiously amused. " Still got that little fire in you, huh. And you're scared. You're scared, yes?"

Silence. You only stared back, chassis pumped with andrenaline. What else you were suppose to say, blegh blegh blegh?

" Silly me. Blink twice if you're scared."

You blinked once.

"Oh?"

Then another slow blink.

"That's what I thought. Now," he knelt beside your helm. The tight smile on his face was nothing genial. " What did I tell you about miners going around creating troubles for me to fix. "

Sir! It wasn't what it was! You rustled, moving you mouth. Nothing came out. Whether Sentinel was aware of the incident or not, it seemed he chose to ignore the possibility that you might be right.

" Not only you defied a supervisor, you also kicked him and destroyed — let me see," He tapped your cheek, tink tink tink, optics to the ceiling, thinking. "Oh yes, almost blew up crates worth of decades use. Injured five of my gaurds. Many more, probably. And, why is that? To make a point nobody will understand. To make a point that's virtually worthless?"

You shook your head.

We couldn't go on any longer. Sir, please.

We are free.

We need to be free.

"Your little speech was adorable. That mineer you saved, oh how melodramatic. Unfortunately like you, he's not going to have the opportunity of choosing his punishment."

Your optics widened and you froze. That look on your face seemed to please him and he lunged forward. You choked as he grabbed your face, pulling your head up to his level.

"It's a shame." He crooned. " You miners are so delicate. Its a miracle you managed this much through the mines already." The other servo grabbed your throat. He sighed, and tightened both grips.

The accumulating andrenaline allowed you to kick below in panic. The venom was dissapating. You feel a little pulse in your pedes, as well as the sensors blooming back on your digits.

"Now, I'll give you two options" He leaned closer. "And I'll only say this once. You can serve Cybertron and it's people — or,"

The servo clutching your throat released and glided down, down and lower...

" Or, you can serve me. Your Prime. Your leader — What will that be?"

Your optics flickered, staring back into his blue ones.

You faintly reminisced bumping into a miner on the street while heading down to the main square of iacon. You've just had your pay, a few hundred shanix clutched in your servos and the collision smeared them across the ground. Frantic, you tried to pick them up, ignoring the several laughters from the bots above — and the miner did too. They were just like you, except...

"Here," They said.

You look up.

They were pretty. Well kempt. A gentle smile on their face. Their platings were shiny, glossy. Without a scratch.

You were confused.

They were just like you. No cogs. No nothing.

"Oh, you're at a different sector, then?" You remember asking.

The miner blinked and frown, chagrined as he handed the last slip of shanix and looked away. You couldn't asked more. A mech with gleaming gold platings dragged them away.

The last look he gave was a somber look before looking ahead. Never back.

You remember being confused. A little irritated at such a display the senator took them away.

But, now. Now, it all made sense.

Is that what it was?

A toy for them to play with?

"I'll...serve....you...." You croaked out.

But even so, at least you're able to live.

"Good mech."

[joachimz]

FOR ALL YOUR ATTENTION

tsu’tey x gn!reader

includes: na’vi!reader. mate tsu’tey. teasing reader. tsu’tey is literally whipped. probably ooc oh well. suggestive. re-upload.

If there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. Whether that be in the sense of categorizing and keeping tabs on his people, or the doting he does on those he holds dear in private; he is always watching, waiting, basking in the shadows to make sure he knows every detail. You think it partially to be his position as future Olo’eyktan that makes him that way. But you also know it to be just how he is in nature—even if he’d struggle to openly admit that. 

A fatal flaw on his part, maybe. The way he is so devoted to the lives of those around him; how he is so willing to double stack his duties to take care of the needs of his people. Bearing more stress and burden than he should (or more inside knowledge than he has any right to know) because he is simply so keen on ensuring he is not out of the loop with anyone, ever. 

He’s being attentive even now, at this very moment. If that is what you could call spying on Jake and Neytiri from his perch of raised tree roots, partially shielded by the overgrown flora in front of him. It is sweet and terribly endearing how he cares for her, loves her; his want to protect knows no limits. 

Someone else might stir up a smidgen of jealousy at that, but not you. See, even if he had been betrothed to her, you’re conscious of what resides in his heart; what always has. You know that his feelings never crossed that one fine line, no matter how much he’d try to pretend that they did. How much he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his clan to have strong leaders—willing leaders. It’s commendable. 

Such an admirable act of a man of his caliber, one must admit. 

And it isn’t that he does not trust Jake—because if asked he would have to be honest and begrudgingly attest that he has grown quite fond of the uniltìranyu—but he is just.. wary. Rightfully so. That is a well suited sentiment for these types of situations. Relationships with tawtute, no matter how docile and complaisant they may seem, should always be handled with a lingering sense of fragility. So you understand his urge to leer, his need to observe when he is alone with one of your people. 

It doesn’t mean you don’t find it the slightest bit amusing, though. How he’ll stress and strain over maintaining glimpses. Hearing him scoff when you tease of his meddling is humorous. You enjoy getting to tug on his leg. 

“You are lurking again,” you state, stepping up beside Tsu’tey’s still form on the root, peering through the clearing of brush right along with him. 

And he must have been far more engrossed in his couple watching than you thought (it’s not like you were trying to sneak up on him after all, your steps were not even close to quiet) because he flinches the tiniest, minute bit at the sound of your voice. His head snaps to you and you turn your own to meet his gaze. 

“I am not lurking,” he rebuts, lips dipping downward in a scowl. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes just by the tone of his voice, but he won’t. He’s aware that that gives you satisfaction. 

Little does he know you get satisfaction from that fact alone. 

“Ah, right. Then what would you choose to call this? Spying?” You tip your head, a seemingly innocent gesture but it is nothing of the sort. Playing Tsu’tey is quite effortless when the dice fall into your practiced hands so routinely. “Snooping?”

“That is—” Absurd? Foolish? Whatever word was going to punctuate the end of his sentence dies before it reaches the tip of his tongue. His mouth screws up for a moment, along with the ridges of his brows, and you can tell something about him that is so painfully easy to pick up on. “I do not snoop.”

“Sure you don’t.” 

Your words tilt with a shrug of your shoulders, the leveling of your head. Swiveling back around to look through the brush once again, you have to bite your cheek to fight the smile threatening your lips as Tsu’tey still stays locked on you. It’s a pleasing feeling, knowing you have riled him up so much in less than a minute.

“I do not snoop. Nor do I spy.” He reiterates, says it with authority now. In the same stern voice he uses to talk to the children of the clan and warn them about venturing too far into the depths of the forest without parental supervision. But you are an excessive amount of familiar with him for it to work on you; for it to sway you in the slightest.

If anything it eggs you on. Maybe a small personality flaw; most definitely a little boorish of you. Nevertheless you enjoy it, you think you always will. Because you are the only one who gets to see Tsu'tey like this. Who gets to poke and preen and tease, without worrying if your head might end up on a pike afterwards. (Not that he could stomach ever doing such a thing without a monsoon of reasons, truly, because even behind his ostensibly permanent glower he is just a big hearted fool deep down). 

“I see,” you hum, and his gaze is still boring holes into the side of your skull, “Then you’re just nosy.”

“I am nothing of the sort.” And there it is, the scoff that always comes when you begin to make sport of his tendencies trailing after his detest. You’ve finally got him—successfully sunk your teeth into his throat and dragged him right into your claw toothed trap. 

“Great,” you denounce, then flick your gaze back to that of the agitated man beside you. “Then it will not matter to you to know that Jake and Neytiri snuck out of your sight five minutes ago.”

“What?” Head whirling, eyes shooting wide, he turns back instantly to his break in the brush to confirm your statement.

Your statement that was in fact laced in nothing but falsity and had the sole purpose of exposing him for just how intrusive he is; which worked like a charm, you must add. Jake and Neytiri are still there, of course. Still talking and collecting herbs like they were before. Still enjoying their innocent—albeit sickeningly flirtatious—time together. 

Tsu’tey whips back around to look at you, this time squaring his shoulders to glare at you properly.

“Wiya!” He hisses, but it holds no threat. Just his annoyance, the baseline of frustration. (Probably out of embarrassment for being caught, if the sharp flick of his tail is any indication at all). “What is it that you need?”

You consider him, hold his gaze. There are one of two ways you could go about this and you’re trying to decide which route would be the most entertaining. It becomes clear with each tick of his jaw what option you’re going to settle on, so you begin to pick up the puzzle pieces and place them down methodically. 

“Oh, nothing.” Shrugging as you lace your fingers behind your back, you count your breaths. “Was just seeing what you were up to.”

Tsu’tey, expectedly, does not waver still. “I am busy tending to things.”

“You mean spying?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

After your hum you let another pause take place. Another beat of silence between the two of you. There’s a faint rustling to your right and out of the corner of your eye you see Jake and Neytiri actually gathering their things to leave this time. You wonder if it’s because they heard the two of you or perhaps on their own whim. Regardless, you don’t miss the twitch of Tsu’tey’s ears as he picks up on it too. You’re almost certain his brows knit tighter together, if that is even possible. 

“What do you need, yawne?” He repeats himself, presses once more. 

Yet even on edge, his tongue strikes lovingly. How enthralling of him, how compelling. How can he expect you not to want to toy with him? When he is just so yielding? 

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

Another pass. The noises of the forest fill in your lull. 

“Well,” he huffs, straightening himself out. “If there is nothing you need then you should be going. Like I said, I am busy.”

And you’ve been plotting, scheming, for this perfect time to swing the hatchet down. Tsu’tey has set you up beautifully, honestly. It’s almost like he’s in on it himself. He should know better by now, you think.

“Right, you’re busy.” This time, your words drift off with a deep sigh. Shoulders rising up and dropping theatrically like they’re being controlled by a puppeteer's strings, you turn to leave the same way that you came. You mumble under your breath, but not low enough that the man in your presence cannot hear you as you take your first steps away, “Always so busy. Looking out for everyone. Leaving me be..”

Tsu’tey’s sharp intake of breath might be stifled, but you hear it without a single shred of strain. In less than a second wide strides are being made to close the short gap you’ve created between the two of you. And just as soon as they stop, the unreserved grip of a calloused hand is clutching onto the ridge of your hip bone, pivoting you back around to beset the (now slightly less annoyed) warrior before you.

“Leaving you be?” His voice is tainted with something endearing, something unfiltered. Concern flitters across his strong features and it’s riveting; telling. 

You’ve got him. Right in the palm of your hand. 

“Mhm.” Angling your chin with a nod you turn your eyes downward. Relaxing your shoulders into a defeated slump, posturing yourself to be despondent. “It’s fine, really. I know you are an important man. I should not expect your undivided attention.”

“My attention?” He quirks, and his hand is leaving your hip only to take place on your jaw. He tips your head up but you still keep your gaze averted. It is not time to give in yet. “You have all of my attention, always. Oeyä txe’lan, why would you believe that you do not?”

You bite your tongue. Attentive, heeding; earnest is his expression as he deciphers every twitch across your face. You’d think for a man that is so good at reading you he would be able to tell when you are presenting faux emotions. Yet it’s like his worriment outweighs his fluency of you.

Somehow that’s even more touching.

“Ma (Y/n),” he hearkens, veering into your line of sight until you’re forced to meet his gaze, now. The intensity of his focus has your stomach fluttering, your hands behind your back ringing together. Oh, how you love him. “Tell me, am I being neglectful of you? What is it I have failed to do?”

“I—” His thumb is rubbing against the plane of your jaw. The curve of his lips pushes them out in an adoring pout as he inspects every quiver and crease of your features. 

This was supposed to be a fun little game, one you are used to playing and one you are always in control of. So why does it suddenly feel like Tsu’tey has wiped the gameboard clean and tossed out all the cards? How has he flipped this on you, by simply cracking open his chest and laying his bleeding heart atop the deck? How has he become the game master, with a simple cradle of his palm and the dripping of devoted professions off his tongue?

How is this fair at all?

“Oeyä tìyawn.” My love, my heart; he holds you with such firm care like you are the very muscle that pumps life into his body. Like you are the very essence of his soul, all in all. Like you are his lifeblood—and aren’t you, really? “Do you crave for my attention? Have I not awarded you enough?”

“No.” It’s instant, no hesitation in your deliverance and, somehow, this is not about teasing your lover anymore. Your lungs burn, your internal clock ticks like the time frame of minutes has been cut short. “No, it is not enough.”

Contrition trickles down Tsu’tey’s face like watercolor pathos coating concern by the brush of your velvet tongue. His grip on your jaw softens, his free hand slides across the hollow of your throat until his fingertips bracket the braid encasing your kuru. He steps close; impossibly closer than he was until the beads of his neck piece scrape delicately against your sternum, until his breath fights to contrast the already growing warmth of your blood rushed cheeks. 

You swallow, but it is not enough to stomach the tension clawing up your ribcage. His forehead is just a mere breadth from yours, his nose twitching millimeters from your own. With his ears pressed back and his tail flicking lowly, he envelops every sense a Na’vi can use. 

He debilitates you, wholly and unquestionably. 

“Forgive me,” he presses, and his lips seal yours before you can respond. “Forgive me, paskalin,” he longs as he steals your breath once more, presses his thumb against your pulse point. “Ngaytxoa, Ma (Y/n). May you never want for my attention again. I will grant you anything to prove as such. What do you wish of me?”

“I wish…” It is tasking, trying to catch your breath. He is just so close and just so consuming and adhering. “I wish for you.”

“Me?” He ticks his head, drops a hand in order to slide it down to the base of your spine. “You have me, all of me. Do not be foolish and believe otherwise.”

You blink, regain yourself. Yes, you suppose he is right. You suppose you do have him—all of him—that his actions now prove to supplement that statement. So what is it you really want? What is it you crave of a man who has given you everything even if you bait that he does not? What is the desire that you harbor in your heart, that he has not already graced you with forthright, at the any shallow utterance you muster?

“The day,” you wager, “Spend the rest of this day with me.”

Tsu’tey’s lips cinch to the side for a moment—his duties listing off on the blackboard of his mind, you are sure—but a moment is all he tenses before his foundation gives. He nods, cleaves to your wish. 

“Of course. What would you plan? A hunt? A harvest?”

A fang hooks the corner of your lip and you shake your head. So willing to heed to you but it is not quite right, not quite on script. He has mistaken your petition for something far more innocent than you thought he would; but you suppose you cannot fault the conservativeness of a warrior that holds such merit as he. 

“You mistake me,” you correct, snaking your hands up until they reside over the ridges of his protruding collarbones. “I wish to spend the day with you. Alone. As my mate. Doing that of which only mates are permitted.”

At this, Tsu’tey’s ears flicker; his pupils expand against his will and you take that as your sign of agreement before he even murmurs as such. And his compliance does not run verbal—not fully—other than a gruff rumble of his chest as the hand on his spine drifts to drag against the back of your thigh and hoist you up. Instinctive is the way your legs find themselves winding around his cinched waist. The woven ridges of his cummerbund brush against the insides of your thighs, and it is not an unfamiliar feeling.

Funny, how as lips sear against your own, drift and smear along your jaw and down the curve of your throat until they find refuge on your pulsepoint at which his thumb now retreats, you feel far more innocent than tainted. Perhaps love does that to someone; hides guilt or shame and breeds only purity. Perhaps attention can surely prove to be a cure all, in certain sentiments. 

Whatever it is, you embrace it fully and relish in it with all of your being.

And maybe it distracts you, just slightly, because your tongue grows dangerously loose as you give up your will. You really do prove to be your own betrayer, truly.

“Sau,” you sigh as you tip your head to the side to allow virtuous lips room to roam, “I should tempt you with plight more often.”

Kisses halt and hands tighten where they grip onto you. You realize your mistake just as soon as the last word rolls off your tongue, but you cannot swallow down things already spoken. Fingers still sifted into Tsu’tey’s braids, you peer down as he leans back enough to look up at you. 

“How kawng of you,” he aims, but he grants you no tell of expression.

“And even so?” You ponder, hum as you scratch the base of his scalp. “Will you revoke my request from me? Will you be so cruel as to deny me this?”

“Do not be foolish,” he hearkens, and something twinkles in his eyes as he says it—something twitches at the tilt of his lips. “You will have your day with me, just as you wish.”

“How merciful of you.” And you cannot help the simper that plays at your mouth. Even after fumbling, giving up your original position, you have still seemingly gotten your way. How delightful, this has proven to be.

But Tsu’tey’s fingers delve into the meat of your thigh with a little more pressure. His kisses find their way back to the juncture between your throat and jaw with a little more fervent. His tail brushes against your hooked ankles and you are not foreign to this rhythm of flicks.

“Do not deem me merciful yet, yawne,” he apprises with a nip of your skin. “You wish for my attention? I will grant it. But remember—”

A deep chuckle rumbles against your skin and the heat of his laugh has your stomach boiling with fire-licked butterflies. Your heart skitters, your inhales hitch before they slip out of your throat, as his lips find their way to the shell of your feverish ear. You find yourself bated, waiting, on whatever is to come.

“You asked for all of my attention. So now, you must take it.”

And if there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. And that is what you are banking on as he carries you further into the forest.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hello!! good morning, afternoon or night, idk. Could I request Diasomnia (or just Silver and Malleus if it's too much characters) with a Snow White like reader? I recently re-watched Snow White and it kinda got me thinking about how they would interact with a reader that acts similarly to Snow White (very kind, caring, motherly and a tad bit naive). Thank you either way and have a good day!

diasomnia w/ snow white!reader ✧･ﾟ

.

I am so sorry this took me so long! I do a lot of writing in addition to this blog and between that and school, things got away from me! Thank you for the request and I hope I did this idea justice ^^

.

Summary: The following scenarios and headcanons depict the members of Diasomnia with a Snow White-inspired reader. Each of these is meant to be its own universe, like a visual novel route.

TW/CW: N/A

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is explicitly human/non-fae

Guest Stars: N/A

.

.

.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Malleus Draconia

Malleus and [Name] share a certain innocence about the world.

They both fall victim to Lilia's pranks often.

Malleus is fond of them from the get-go because they seem more worried about him than afraid of him at the joint event.

This is where their friendship began.

Malleus thinks that [Name] is a unique person.

He wants to protect the person who seems so soft and caring.

Malleus doesn't understand how [Name] is so soft to others.

Everyone seems to like them. Can they teach him how to do that?

"How do you do it, [Name]?" Malleus asked them one evening as they walked around the school at twilight.

It was cold and [Name] was wrapped in a blanket from their dorm to keep out the cold. Still, they were walking. These walks were something they looked forward to even if it disrupted their (already questionable) circadian rhythm at times.

"Do what, Malleus?" they returned his question with another question, unsure what the draconic fae meant this time.

They didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Did they? Were they doing something so special without even being aware of it? They looked at him with wide curious eyes, urging him to elaborate.

"You are someone that everyone likes," Malleus told them plainly.

Name paused. Was that true? They thought about their relationship with the other students at Night Raven. Maybe they did have a lot of friends. Was that upsetting Malleus? He was rather... a solo rider.

"I suppose so... But it's not something I'm trying to do, so..."

They trailed off and Malleus placed a hand on their shoulder.

"I am not mad at you, Child of Man," he continued, "It is just something that I have noticed as we have known each other."

They nodded slowly, trying to understand what he was saying,

"Does it make you worry?" they asked, looking at him and taking a small step closer, "I don't want to cause you distress, Malleus..."

His brows furrowed slightly as he stared down at the small human he had become friends with. Was he worried? It seemed more than that.

"It's not just a worry," he continued, "Perhaps it is also... admiration."

They stopped before they could even begin their next sentence. Was Malleus complimenting them in earnest?

"Oh?" they managed to say.

He smiled, eyes gleaming.

"I do admire you deeply, [Name]," he told them, "For... For being all I cannot be."

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia starts off viewing [Name] as a child.

They remind him of Silver and he is much older than the other students, so it's only natural that he's a bit apprehensive.

They seem naive and that worries him, but it's also fun to use.

A few pranks have [Name] scrambling to get Sebek's help.

Still, Lilia cares about them, mostly from afar.

He would not be the one to confess first because he knows he will depart soon enough but he is always sweet to [Name].

The joke about [Name] being a second parent to Silver does not go unused. Silver did not appreciate that one but laughed in the end.

"My dear," Lilia began his statement in earnest, giving an almost evil grin as he came closer, however, to the person he had claimed as his lover only days ago, "May I ask you something~?"

"Lilia?" they asked, startling slightly when he hugged them but relaxing into it all the same, "What is it?"

They were used to him being a bit strange but part of him seemed... very serious and they were not sure what to make of it. [Name] was new to this whole "dating" situation. Sure, they had read about it. But this was different. This was real. Wasn't it?

This was new for them, in more ways than one, he was Lilia-senpai.

"[Name], how do you feel about being a mother?" he asked.

They paused. What was he asking them? Why? Now? Why would they be a mother? Children? They were still in school and, and, and...

Their thoughts raced a bit at the question but calmed as soon as they heard the giggly laugh that suggested he was messing with them somehow.

"You must not fret so," he told them, patting their head affectionately.

"But you asked if I was going to be a mom?" they asked him.

"Not of new life, not yet," he told them, that was a plan for some other day at some other time, "I meant to my son who is almost grown."

Son... who is almost... SILVER?

Their jaw dropped at the realization.

"You want me to help with Silver?"

[Name]'s eyes were wide. Silver wasn't too far from their age.

"Yes!" Lilia chirped an answer.

"Well..."

What were they supposed to say to this? They weren't the type to decline their lover's request and they did care for Silver. They could see how he would need another parent to balance the chaos of Lilia now. But, them? It was a lot to take in.

"I will let you think about it, but as my lover, it does make you a parent to him in some sense of the word, perhaps an unconventional one, though," he explained to them.

They nodded.

"Father, please do not harass [Name]!" Silver spoke up from across the room, looking at [Name] a moment later, "You do not need to be my mother if you do not wish to be."

Ah, [Name] had forgotten. They were in the Diasomnia Commons. Silver and Sebek were here. There was an audience.

"Hmm..." they hummed, trying to think it over.

"But isn't Silver still so cute?" Lilia cooed.

"Father-" Silver attempted to cut in but [Name] spoke too soon.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind helping with your son, Lilia."

"Yay~"

At least Lilia was happy. Silver might need to vent to someone later.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver does not realize he has befriended [Name] until they have been friends for several weeks. He does not have the heart to back out after this and only grows closer to them from this point on.

He grows to like their optimistic attitude.

They share a bit of naivety in the world and others sense this.

Silver confesses first as he believes this is the "correct" way to do it based on the books (manga) that Lilia offered him as advice.

They decide to be a couple fairly easily and it's a first for them both. Silver has never had a relationship outside of his work as a guard and being Lilia's adoptive son.

Silver and [Name] don't realize they are in love until everyone else is already painfully aware of their feelings for each other.

Lilia likes to mess with both Silver and his lover.

Silver and his lover often become victims of these pranks.

[Name] and Silver are too forgiving in these instances.

Sebek sometimes yells at them about it.

"Is this cheese?" [Name] asked Silver, trying to get the substance out of her hair and failing, "Cheese from the ceiling?"

Their expression was one of confusion as they looked between their hair and the white-haired boy who was also trying to get the sticky orange substance off of his dorm uniform's horned hat. He didn't seem pleased but was far less surprised than they were.

"Yes, I think so," he told them.

They paused, thinking about it more deeply.

"....Why?"

"Well..." Silver trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a way to answer her without incriminating someone, "It was a practical joke."

"A joke? Cheese from the ceiling was a joke?" she asked, confused but not angry, trying to find the hilarity in the event, "What does it mean?"

"I don't think it has a meaning, this is just how my- How Lilia-senpai shows his affection for me, for you, for ... us, I suppose?"

"Oh..." they said before their eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Yes..." he managed to respond, hesitant.

He felt a bit bad Lilia had done something that startled them.

"Does that mean Lilia-senpai thinks of us as... a pair?"

"Maybe?" Silver responded.

It seemed likely enough that Silver and [Name] were seen as a pair by his father. He was prone to assigning roles to people in Silver's experience. It didn't warrant cheese but, oh well. They really do sell everything at the School Store, he noted.

That was probably where his father had gotten this... whatever it was.

"We are best friends, right Silver?" [Name] asked, pulling him from his thoughts at what other oddities the store might be selling.

"Yes, but..."

He wanted to say it. He had thought it over for a week, been yelled at by Sebek, been told to "court properly" by Prince Malleus... He had to do it. He was a knight. What scared him so much about this?

Silver let out a soft breathy sigh.

"But?" [Name] asked, repeating what he had half-said.

He had to do this. He wanted to do this. Silver was determined.

"I have been meaning to ask you something, [Name]," he told them.

"What is it...?" [Name] asked, surprised for the second time that day.

Copying what he had read in the books Lilia offered him, he took their hands in his and looked at them with a sparkle in his eyes they had not seen until this very moment. He was serious.

"[Name]," he spoke once more.

They blinked at him. What was he trying to say?

"Yes....?" they replied.

"Would you do me the... honor of..." Silver paused for a second or two before he continued, "Being mine? I am in love with you so ardently I might... You're lovely."

The line was a jumble of the things he had read. Would that suffice? Would it be a proper request to them? He knew it had to be done respectfully or else he would bring shame to his father and master alike. Silver would never want to do that, he was loyal to the fae despite his very humanity.

His eyes gazed into theirs, not wanting to look away and miss their answer. Silver watched as they processed his words, face flushing slightly as soon as they understood what he meant with that flowery question. They struggled for words.

"You. Me..." they paused, "Yes!"

He expected a bit more hesitation but they seemed enthusiastic about it as they jumped into his arms and wrapped theirs around his neck, hugging him tightly. They both ignored the strings of sprayable cheese that was still covering them both and the laundry that would need to be done shortly after.

"I am glad you accept my feelings," he managed to say.

[Name] nodded into his shoulder.

"This is all like a dream.." they said softly to him.

If this was a dream, Silver noted, it was a sweet one.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is annoyed by [Name] for the first while they know each other but it is mostly because their "kind" personality causes them to approach him and they are a HUMAN.

They grow on him only because he just keeps running into them?

Is the universe trying to get them together? (yes)

Through repeated exposure, they begin a kind of friendship

[Name] listens intently when Sebek speaks about Malleus.

This aids in the development of their friendship.

Sebek does not know how to confess.

There is some internal conflict for this guard about his feelings.

[Name] remains blissfully unaware of his struggles.

Sebek means well he was just raised by a very human-phobic grandpa who he idolizes. We're all aware it's a problem.

"Sebek!" [Name] finally said a bit louder than the original attempt at getting his attention, "Are you okay?"

The knight was startled to attention and instantly straightened his posture before taking a fighting stance as though they were in danger. To that, [Name] was not sure what to say.

"Ah, it's you," he said, albeit quieter than usual, "I'm fine."

They narrowed their eyes at him briefly but didn't say anything. [Name] trusted him at their core, so they believed his words.

"If you say so," they shrugged, "So, are we going into town?"

Sebek turned to see [Name] sparkling at him with the sweetest smile on their lips. They were excited about this trip, weren't they? How could he have let himself get distracted from a task that Lilia gave him? Lilia told him to accompany this human, his friend, into town as a guard. Something about magic-less people not being safe alone.

He was in no position to question Lilia.

"We are!" he said, volume returning with force, "OFF WE GO!"

[Name] just giggled as they followed after him, blissfully unaware of the reason for his awkward posture and strange fluctuation in volume (even more than usual). They simply assumed it was Sebek being himself. He always was a bit strange and they adored him for it, seeing the passion in his eyes even when he was being a bit... much.

As kind and caring as they were, there was a certain naivety about [Name]. Falling in love was foreign to them. Perhaps that was why they did not notice the tell-tale signs that Lilia would have pointed out to them if he didn't like seeing Sebek squirm so much.

Sebek was in love with [Name].

But how did he tell someone that he cared for them? That he appreciated their mothering side and the fact that they listened to him. He thought about them! He wanted to please them! And... He dreamed of what their life could be like after they graduated. That one was embarrassing.

He glanced over toward them for a moment.

There they were, blissfully unaware of the anxiety within him at the thought that his feelings could change the friendship they had.

"This will be a fun day," Sebek told [Name], "You have my word."

"As a knight?"

"Yes... As a knight."

"Yay!!"

Their smile was all that mattered to him. He could wait just a bit longer to tell them the truth. All in good time... He could do it.

Lilia might have other plans though...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[shadyr4m]

REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE

+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore

This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.

I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭

FIRST OFF:

The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko

Compared to the normal Disc

This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".

The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.

Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.

In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.

This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.

Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.

Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.

THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.

While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.

THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.

"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."

Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.

This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.

Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.

THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.

Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..

"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.

"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.

"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.

Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.

Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.

I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..