#and that's the best way I can describe it in words

[heyftinally]

I specifically want to elaborate on this part:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

As someone who has spent a LOT of time and effort on the nitty-gritty of quoting others in professional documents, I feel like I have a pretty good foundation on which to speak about this.

As a general rule, you want to directly quote the speaker as much as possible.

First and foremost, this is because you don't want to put words in their mouth or misrepresent what they said, as that's dishonest on your part as the interviewer/writer/etc, and harms your credibility. Remember the "Coolsville sucks" meme? Yeah, don't be that person. Quotes should be full and verbatim as much as possible, because anything else presents the possibility that you aren't accurately or fully representing what the speaker said.

The second reason is because when you re-word someone else's quote, you inherently inject your own biases into the new version you create. What that means is, consciously or unconsciously, you are influencing the way readers perceive what was said. This is bad because at best, you're speaking over the person who's quote you re-worded. At worst, you're manipulating your readers to think as you do, regardless of what the original quote said.

When presenting a quote from someone else, your job is to communicate as clearly as possible the speaker's original statement and intention. If giving the direct quote is not possible, careful paraphrasing is vital.

If I say "Sara James then went on to express her dissatisfaction with the pay she received", what would you assume the original quote is?

It could be "Yeah, I found out I was only getting paid ⅓ as much as my costar, even though I have 40% more screen time and I did almost all of my own stunts, so needless to say I'm not happy and I've been talking to my team."

But it could ALSO be "I was surprised when I found out what we were all getting paid. Not to sound like a total nepo baby or anything, but normally the projects I do pay more, y'know? But then I found out that the reason pay was lower for everyone - not just me - was because production was donating a whole bunch of money to the local children's hospital since we filmed in the lot next door. Which I thought was really cool of them! Like, obviously the hospital doesn't get much say in the filming, so I thought it was really cool of production to give back as, like, a thank you. Plus we got to go visit the kids, which was just amazing!"

TECHNICALLY in both of these, you could argue that displeasure about pay IS mentioned - but the specifics of the situation are entirely lost in the oversimplified paraphrasing, and THAT is why changing direct quotes can be dangerous.

So, yeah. I just wanted to elaborate on that particular point because it's one I covered *heavily* while in college. How you quote someone is important.

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[cherryxbooo]

You’re my ideal type

Summary: A video from a year ago of Oscar talking about his ideal type went viral, making his fans wonder why he chose his girlfriend. This leaves y/n with a lot of questions herself .

Note: First time writing for Oscar! I kinda went with the flow. Let me know what you think! 😌

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff/angst

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Monaco. I was out with two of my friends, enjoying brunch together and soaking up the good vibes.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and joking around—overall, it was a fantastic time.

Afterward, we decided to go for a stroll. That’s when we stumbled upon a gorgeous spot with an incredible view. For girls, that can only mean one thing: a photo session. And, of course, we took full advantage.

We snapped countless pictures of each other—exactly what I needed. I’d been wanting to update my Instagram feed, and I knew Oscar would appreciate a few of these too. A win-win situation if you ask me.

Hours later, we decided to head home. Parting ways was bittersweet, but we all had things to do.

When I finally arrived at the place Oscar and I shared, I immediately went inside, feeling my social battery completely drained.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. There were still a few hours to go before Oscar would be home. Feeling a little bored, I decided to tackle some household chores to pass the time.

Eventually, I finished everything and switched to full-on "bed rotting" mode. As I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, I remembered the stunning photos we’d taken earlier.

Sitting up, I started going through them, carefully picking out the best ones to upload to Instagram.

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yourusername Days like these ☀️💐

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oscarpiastri Pretties girl ❤️ by author

alexandrasaintmleux Gorgeous ❣️

yourusername Says you 💋

f1_dailylvr81 She's so girly coded love it 💅

fashionistaformula I can't be the only one thinking about that one interview of Oscar?

paistryln481 You're not alone, every time I see her I keep thinking about it

foryoutt16 Wait what? I'm lost, what happened?

cocosainzyy55 @foryoutt16 An old interview of Oscar when he was still in F2 resurfaced and he was talking about his ideal type and the description he gave matches nothing to his current girlfriend. People are suddenly bringing this up again, wondering why he didn't choose his ideal type.

foryoutt16 Oh damn that's rough...

The comments and likes flooded in, as they always did. Sometimes, I forgot that I was dating an F1 driver—it came with its own kind of spotlight.

But as I scrolled through the comments under my post, a few things caught my attention.

One comment in particular stood out: something about an old interview of Oscar.

Confused and curious, I decided to look it up. Little did I know, I was about to regret it...

My stomach twisted into knots as I watched the video, realization sinking in. Oscar described his ideal woman, and her characteristics were unlike ones I possessed. I felt a wave of insecurities and doubts wash over me, each word a reminder of how I didn't fit the bill for his ideal partner.

My heart sank with every word he spoke, describing his ideal woman's qualities - and every one felt like another reminder of how far off the mark I was.

I couldn't help but wonder, "Why did he choose me?" His words stung, and I questioned whether he settled for less than his ideal because he didn't have better options.

On cue, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Oscar returned home and called out my name. His voice echoed through the hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. I hesitated, a mix of fear and confusion gripping me, as I debated whether to face him with this newfound knowledge.

He entered the room with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He greeted me with a gentle kiss on the forehead before starting to speak in sweet words.

"Hey babe, how was your day?" he asked, completely unaware of the recent discovery I made.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside as I replied, "It was fine," my voice trying to mask the disappointment and insecurity that bubbled up.

The words left my lips, sounding hollow compared to the usual warmth in my tone.

Oscar sensed the hint of falsity in my fake smile. His observant nature picked up on the subtle cues of my distress, and he recognized that something was off. Yet, instead of immediately asking about it, he chose to hold off, observing to see if I would bring it up.

Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He kissed my temple gently, his touch providing a temporary sense of comfort.

He knew something was bothering me and chose not to press, offering a moment of respite instead. "Do you want takeout?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

I replied softly, trying to match his tenderness, "Sounds good." Despite my conflicting emotions, I didn't want to dampen the mood by revealing my insecurities.

"Takeout sounds great," I said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Oscar reluctantly let go of me, reaching for the phone to place the takeout order. In his absence, I seized the opportunity to sneak a look in the mirror, as well as to search for pictures of Oscar's ideal type.

I scoured the internet, comparing every aspect of my appearance to the images of his ideal woman. The comparison fueled my insecurities, amplifying the feeling of not measuring up.

My tears threatened to spill as I stood there, comparing myself to Oscar's ideal, but before they could, I heard Oscar's voice calling out.

"Y/n baby, the food will be here in twenty minutes," he informed me. I swiftly wiped away the tears before responding, attempting to hide the vulnerability in my voice, "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

Splashing my face with water to compose myself, hoping to hide any traces of my tears and distress. With determination, I dried my face and returned to the room where Oscar was, trying to mask my vulnerability.

After the food came, we ate together. I was quiet, it was mainly Oscar talking which was odd because normally it was always me talking and he would listen. We were currently cuddled up together after eating

Despite our cozy cuddle on the couch, my mind was preoccupied with worries. Thoughts like "What if he leaves me?" and "What if I'm not good enough?" consumed me.

Oscar noticed my distraction and asked if I was alright, concern in his voice. I replied, "Just tired," and although he didn't fully believe it, he decided not to push further.

Oscar spoke up once more, his voice soft and reassuring. "Y/n?" he began, his eyes searching mine.

"You know I love you, right? If there's anything bothering you, you know you can tell me," he emphasized, his tone filled with patience and support.

I nodded, attempting to hide the depth of my worries and insecurities. "Yeah, I know. I love you too," I responded, trying to sound reassuring.

The words felt heavy, knowing the weight of my unspoken fears.

A few weeks had passed since that moment of insecurity, and I had been avoiding Oscar, even though we lived together. I had made excuses to skip every Grand Prix , claiming I was too busy with work.

Yet, here I was, facing the mirror on the morning of a home race, feeling utterly unprepared. The interview weighed heavily on my mind, and I wasn't in the right state to face it.

Standing in front of my reflection, I looked at myself, thoughts of my inadequacy resurfacing.

Oscar entered the room, his gaze settling on me. He positioned himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.

His presence brought both comfort and nerves as I stood in front of the mirror, still grappling with my insecurities.

He spoke softly, his compliment genuine and sweet. "I didn't know it was possible to be this pretty. You look amazing love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

I stepped away from him, the compliment not offering the comfort it usually would. My actions were distant, as if I was subconsciously putting up a barrier.

"Thanks," I responded distantly, my tone devoid of the warmth that usually accompanied my words.

The fear of his departure and my sense of inadequacy still lingered in my heart, casting a shadow over the moment.

Oscar seemed puzzled by my distant behavior, his confusion evident. Seeing right through my attempt to avoid him, he asked gently,

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Why are you avoiding me?"

His voice was tinged with concern, his eyes filled with hurt at my distance.

I quickly responded, trying to change the subject. "No, you did nothing wrong. Uhm, shouldn't you leave for the race?"

Oscar looked at me, his gaze lingering on me before reluctantly letting it go.

"Wait, weren't you coming with me?" he questioned, his tone hinting at his confusion.

I responded with a slightly busted attitude, "Oh, uhm, I'm not done getting ready yet. I'll come later, though."

It was a lie, and Oscar seemed to sense that something was off.

Despite the passing time, he decided to focus on his own preparations while stealing a moment to kiss my forehead before leaving.

I took a moment to muster my courage, realizing that Oscar didn't deserve being pushed away because of my insecurities.

With a deep breath, I prepared myself to face the day and attend the race, pushing through the weight of my doubts.

As the hours flew by, I found myself standing in the garage, watching from afar, torn between my worries and the desire to support him.

After awhile I decided to go to the restroom since I still had some time before the race started.

As I was walking, I heard voices behind me, and my name being mentioned caught my attention.

I stopped to listen—not that I meant to eavesdrop, but hearing my name made it impossible not to.

From what I could tell, these girls were likely McLaren fangirls. Well duh after all, they were dressed in papaya colors.

Girl 1: "It's crazy that Oscar is still dating y/n. She doesn't even fit his ideal type."

Girl 2: "I know, right? Like, she's not even close."

Girl 3: "Yeah, he must be leading her on or something."

Girl 4: "Or maybe she's in it for the fame and money."

Girl 5: "Oh, definitely. There's no other reason she would be with him."

The girls' laughter echoed in my ears, each comment like a punch to my heart.

Girl 2: "Seriously, you'd think he could do better than her."

Girl 1: "Yeah, she's not even that attractive compared to the other girls he's dated before."

Girl 3: "I bet he'll realize soon that he could get someone way better."

Girl 4: "Well, if the fame and money aren't enough, then he's definitely settling."

I couldn't bear to listen any longer, my tears streaming as I fled to the restroom, seeking solace to hide my distress.

Time slipped away as I stayed there, isolated, wrestling with my tormenting thoughts and self-doubts.

Meanwhile, the McLaren garage buzzed with pre-race energy, but Oscar couldn’t focus. His eyes darted around the paddock, scanning for any sign of you.

Anxiety churned in his gut as he spotted his teammate leaning casually against a workbench.

“Lando!” Oscar called, walking over briskly.

Lando glanced up, eyebrows raised. “What’s up, mate?”

Oscar hesitated before blurting out, “Have you seen Y/N anywhere?”

Lando frowned, clearly puzzled. “No, mate, haven’t seen her. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her around for the last few races. Is everything okay?”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, mate. She’s been so distant lately, and I have no idea what I’ve done to upset her.”

Lando’s expression softened, a mix of pity and thoughtfulness. “Could it maybe have to do with that video that went viral again?”

Oscar blinked, confused. “What video? That old F2 interview of mine? That was years ago! I was just joking in most of it anyway.”

Lando shrugged, giving him a pointed look. “Mate, you might want to check the comments under her recent Instagram post. I think that’s your answer.”

With a sympathetic pat on the back, Lando turned and walked off, leaving Oscar alone with his thoughts.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly navigating to your profile. The comments under your latest post hit him like a brick.

“Oh no,” Oscar muttered, his stomach sinking. “No wonder she’s been distant…”

He mentally kicked himself, remembering that dumb interview where he’d been too cocky for his own good.

“I didn’t even mean half the stuff I said,” he whispered to himself, cringing at the memory.

Before he could search for you and explain himself, a crew member called his name, dragging him toward the car for pre-race preparations.

“Great timing,” he muttered under his breath. But he made a promise to himself: as soon as this race was over, he’d find you and make things right.

Meanwhile, back to you, the restroom break had taken longer than expected. The initial plan to kill time before the race started had backfired; now, a dull ache was forming in my head, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up on me.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, but the discomfort wasn’t going away.

Deciding it was best not to push myself, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Oscar:

Not feeling great. Heading back home. Don’t worry about me.

I hesitated before hitting send. He’d probably be confused or even concerned, but the last thing I wanted was to worry him.

With a sigh, I hit send and slipped my phone back into my bag.

As I stepped out of the restroom and headed for the exit, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

On the way, I also let Oscar's manager know I left, just in case he didn't check his phone.

I knew Oscar would notice my absence, but today, it felt easier to retreat than to stay and face everything swirling in my mind.

Little did I know, Oscar was already worrying.

The race had ended, with Oscar clinching a solid P4, just behind Lando. Though pleased with his result, his mind was elsewhere.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, to feel your arms around him, and hear you tell him how proud you were—just like old times.

But as he scanned the crowd, his hope began to waver. You weren’t there.

His manager noticed Oscar’s distracted gaze and approached him. “Looking for Y/N?” the manager asked gently.

“She left you a message. Said she wasn’t feeling well and headed home.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking. You hadn’t told him the truth.

A mix of frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface. Without a word, he decided to skip the team celebrations and headed straight home.

When Oscar arrived, he didn’t waste a second. Dropping his bag by the door, he called out loudly—his voice sharper than usual.

“Y/N!”

You were downstairs in no time, a soft smile on your face.

“Oh, hey, Osc! You’re back early. How was the race?” I asked sweetly, trying to act normal.

But Oscar wasn’t having it. His expression was hard as he stared at you.

“You would’ve known if you didn’t leave,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Guilt washed over me, and you stammered, “I’m sorry, Osc. I wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the crap, Y/N!” he interrupted, startling you. His voice was raised, something he rarely did.

“When are you going to finally admit the real reason you’ve been like this? Tell me! I’m sick of it!”

I flinched but couldn’t blame him. He deserved an explanation. At the same time, I’d had enough, too. My emotions spilled out, my voice breaking.

“How would you feel if people kept telling you that your partner is too good for you? That you’re not good enough, that you’re too ugly, not their type, only with them for the money?!”

Tears streamed down my face as you continued.

“And yes, it’s about that stupid interview of yours! I can’t help it, okay? Call me dumb, call me a crybaby, but this is too much!”

By now, I was full-on sobbing, unable to meet his gaze. But before I could crumble further, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close.

His voice was soft now, gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve helped. We’re a team, remember?”

I sniffled, my voice trembling as I replied, “Those were your words, Oscar. I can’t take them back or change them.”

He sighed, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “Babe, that interview was years ago. I was joking around the entire time. If you’d watched the whole thing, you’d see that.”

I shook my head, unsure, but he leaned back just enough to look at me.

“Since when is my favorite color pink?” he teased, a small laugh escaping him.

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, too.

“That's better,” he said, smiling.

“Listen to me. Everything I said in that interview wasn’t true. I was 18, tired, and didn’t even want to be there. I was just trolling to get it over with.”

I laughed again at his confession, finally meeting his eyes.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he said, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but next time, talk to me, okay?”

I nodded, wiping your tears. “I will. I’m sorry for doubting you… for pushing you away.”

He smiled warmly, leaning in to peck your lips a few times.

“It’s okay, love. I get why you did it. But don’t you ever doubt yourself again, yeah? You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

He cupped your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a long, passionate kiss. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Don’t you ever doubt yourself,” he whispered. “You’re my ideal type. Always.”

I laughed softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Suddenly, Oscar scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, making me squeal.

“Osc! What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

He grinned, shaking his head as he headed toward the bedroom.

“Nope. Let me show my gorgeous girl how much I love her.”

And let’s just say, the night ended perfectly. From that moment on, I never doubted his love for me ever again.

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oscarpiastri An amazing race to finish off the week. A big thank you to the entire team and the fans. Also a big thank you to my beautiful girlfriend for being the best support.

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yourusername So so proud of you Osc!!! Love you! 🩷

oscarpiastri Love you too pretty!

landonorris Well done mate 🙌 extra support is always great!

oscarpiastri Thanks man! You're right especially if she's just my type 😉

yourusername 🤭 ❤️ by author

lalalandnorris4you Oscar really gagged all of you haters purr 💅

frvrformulaonestan1 This is the cutest thing ever brb I'm going to cry 🥹

notyourfan481 Bro Oscar you don't have to lie we all know this ain't you

osclvy/n Girl stfu he isn't going to notice you ffs 🙄

lovelypeachlan4 You thought you did sum? Get out 👉🚪

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yourusername A little recap of last week 🤍

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yourbffuser Looking like a snack 😋😍🥵

yourusername Love ya 💋🫦

oscarpiastri Gorgeous 😍

yourusername Love youu Osc 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux So so so pretty 😘

yourusername Says you beautiful 😉💕

lv4motorsports81 She's so pretty omd

manyyynorriz She's gorgeous, don't know what people were on about 🤨

banananorrispiastry81 🤢

nothingthelessnorris4 And you did this for what ☠️

piastrybakerlvr Move on he isn't going to notice you 🥱

lvlynorrisss4 Yet your comment didn't make any change to this world... Grow up 🤦‍♀️

The end

[theminecraftbee]

so i've been seeing this occasionally in the tags lately and i thought i'd bring up:

if you want someone to click or reblog your fic link you cannot simply post a link to the fic with either no description or a single sentence of description. if you do not put something beyond a link and a sentence, no one is going to click it.

part of this is basic internet safety (don't click links if you don't know where they're supposed to go), but a large part of this is that you have to catch someone's attention to make them click and leave the page they're on! people, in general, aren't going to click a link that doesn't interest them. you should interest them! so, how do you do that?

put some kind of image above your link in your post. this is BY FAR the most certain way to get reblogs and catch people's eye, but it's also the most time-consuming if you aren't already good at edits or art yourself. moodboards, little edited headers, or gifs can help you here (depending on fandom). art you've made yourself or have permission to use is absolutely the best option here, but it's by far the most time-intensive and difficult. full disclosure: i don't do this! that's because i am absolutely pants as a visual artist, even in the realm of editing or selecting gifsets. but if you have this skill and are sad your fics aren't getting attention on tumblr, this could be a potential answer!

write a summary and some kind of note with the link. there's a slightly cluttered cheat way to do this later in the list, but personally i find that formatting your fic post yourself is the best way to make these posts look good. i normally go fic link (making sure the link embed has the title) - summary of fic beneath that in a blockquote - an author's note about what to expect beneath that summary. however, everyone has different standards for how to do this! some people i know like to make sure tags and rating are present; some do not. some put some of this information beneath a cut; some do not. the main key here is to make sure there's just enough information above the cut in the main post that if i, a stranger, am browsing the tag and find your fic, i have enough information to know if it's something i might be interested in! i can always click to see the ao3 tags if i am intrigued, so it doesn't need to be all the information. just enough to catch my eye!

just post the whole fic to tumblr, including a link at the top or bottom. this is the most efficient non-art way to get notes on a fic you post, since, unlike a link with a description, a tumblr user doesn't have to leave the website to read and decide if they're interested or like it enough to reblog. however, there are two downsides. the first is that the fic almost always has to be short (~2k words if you use a cut, less if you don't), since most tumblr users aren't using the website expecting to read a bunch. the second is that doing this will mean most of your fic's readers likely will read it from tumblr, rather than following the fic to ao3. which, you may not care! i certainly don't when it comes to the ficlets i write directly to tumblr. however, it means i really don't recommend doing this with a multichapter fic.

use ao3's share button to automatically make a tumblr post. fics on ao3 have a "share" button, located above the tags and summary. this has a tumblr option, which you can then use to automatically post the fic link to tumblr. this is a bit cluttered since it includes all of the tags from the fic, alongside the full summary, rating, wordcount, etc. personally, i would then edit a little to remove some of that information so that it's more eyecatching and less overwhelming, but if you don't want to, that's also fine! that is still almost always going to be better than posting the link by itself with a single sentence to describe it, and isn't half-bad formatting-wise.

finally, you'll note my posts for ongoing chapters aren't normally given this treatment or fandom tags (although i almost always include a summary of some kind on them). this is because i generally don't want people finding my fic for the first time from a random chapter in the middle. i don't mind if they do, but i'm not going to spam the tag and i'm not going to make THAT much of an effort to make the post appealing. new chapters are things that might tell one of my followers that there's an ongoing fic they should look out for, and tell my current readers and followers that there's, well, a new chapter, but generally they aren't going to hook people. however, if you post chapters a lot more infrequently than i do, or if you simply have the energy to, there's nothing stopping you from applying these to chapter posts as well!

the thing is: look, at the end of the day, i agree with people who say you should write for yourself. how many notes you get isn't a big deal, i promise; the most important feeling is, ultimately, the feeling you get when you finish something and know you made it with your own hands. some of my favorite writing achievements are NOT my most popular, but are my favorites for reasons entirely unrelated to popularity. however, i see a lot of writers bemoaning how badly their fic posts do, when their fic posts are the ao3 embed and a single sentence that reads "this is my new fic enjoy"; the thing is, there are things you can do to make that link into something that someone is more likely to read and/or reblog! (i know i personally don't like reblogging links if i don't know their contents for the aforementioned internet safety reasons.)

just because you write for yourself doesn't mean that you can't give yourself a little leg up in finding your audience. it's worth it both for yourself and your readers, i promise.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Types of Adjectives

Adjectives - words that modify nouns and pronouns.

There are 13 categories of adjectives that describe the different ways adjectives can be used in the English language.

Descriptive Adjectives

Describe the characteristics, traits, or qualities of a noun or pronoun.

In English, they often are placed directly before the noun they are describing.

For example: Excited children ate delicious treats in the colorful cafeteria.

EXAMPLES of descriptive adjectives: beautiful, witty, wicked, confusing, rich, new, strange, rocky, circular, helpful, competent, smelly, stable, grumpy, devoted, smart, muscular, graceful, scary, safe, wooden, sleepy, tardy, hungry, strange, hopeful, proud, new, dainty, royal, arrogant, round, efficient, youthful, cumbersome, fickle, mild, expensive, small, rude, generous, courageous, zany, thin, round, oval, dark, hot, modern, petite, weary

Compound Adjectives

Formed from multiple words, which are usually connected by hyphens.

For example: We all enjoyed some ice-cold sodas.

EXAMPLES of compound adjectives: old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill, middle-of-the-road, heavy-duty, happy-go-lucky, see-through, easy-going, big-time, long-term

Comparative Adjectives

Used to compare two different people or things to each other.

Most comparative adjectives in English end in "-er".

In other instances, they are denoted with "more".

For example: My brother is stronger than yours.

EXAMPLES of comparative adjectives: better, bigger, older, angrier, prettier, smarter, kinder, more determined, more interesting

Superlative Adjectives

Used to compare more than two people or things by indicating which one is the most supreme or extreme.

Most superlative adjectives in English end in "-est".

In other instances, they are denoted with "most" or "least".

For example: I thought she was the most creative artist on the planet.

EXAMPLES of superlative adjectives: best, biggest, oldest, prettiest, happiest, most striking

Proper Adjectives

Formed from proper nouns.

For example: At the grocery store, we bought Mexican tortillas, German sausage, and French cheese.

There are some proper adjectives that are based on people and places that may not be capitalized if they are used as more general words, such as herculean.

EXAMPLES of proper adjectives: Viennese, Russian, Orwellian, Shakespearean, spartan, draconian, titanic

Participial Adjectives

Based on participles, which are words that usually end in "-ed" or "-ing" and derive from verbs.

For example: The frightened students ran away from the terrifying clown.

EXAMPLES of participial adjectives: burnt, depressed, surprised, misunderstood, annoying, shocking, time-consuming

Distributive Adjectives

Used to refer to members of a group individually.

For example: Both of the team captains took the time to congratulate every member of the team.

EXAMPLES of distributive adjectives: each, either, neither, any

Limiting Adjectives

Restrict a noun or pronoun rather than describe any of its characteristics or qualities.

For example: The building had twelve floors, hundreds of windows, and several unique features.

EXAMPLES of limiting adjectives: a/an, some, few, dozen, eight, thousands

Possessive Adjectives

Used to express possession or ownership.

For example: Everyone brought their own dish and my mom made her famous punch for our potluck.

EXAMPLES of possessive adjectives: your, our, its, his

Interrogative Adjectives

There are only 3 interrogative adjectives in English.

They are used to ask questions.

For example: What is the fastest way to get this done?

The 3 interrogative adjectives are: what, which, whose

Demonstrative Adjectives

Used to express relative positions in space and time.

For example: I think that color looks great on you, but this one matches those shoes better.

The 4 most commonly used demonstrative adjectives in English are: this, that, these, those

Adjectives can be in different categories depending on how they are used in a sentence:

Attributive Adjectives

Many descriptive adjectives are commonly used as attributive adjectives.

Usually directly next to the noun and pronoun that they modify.

These sentences all use attributive adjectives:

The sleepy dogs dozed on the doorstep.

A tardy student ran in as the bell rang.

We fed the hungry cat.

The strange figures appeared in the mist.

Her hopeful eyes gazed at me.

Predicate Adjectives

Some of the same descriptive adjectives that were used as attributive adjectives above can also be used as predicate adjectives.

Appear in the predicate of a sentence as a subject complement rather than directly next to the nouns or pronouns that they modify.

Predicate adjectives follow linking verbs in sentences and clauses.

These sentences all use predicate adjectives:

They are asleep.

I arrived late to work.

She felt hungry.

The figures seemed strange.

The children looked hopeful.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[generalburner]

Hey there, submitter here 👋 Now that it's long over and I can't influence anyone's answers, I wanted to share what the point of this was

(But before that let me concur with the disclaimers incognitopolls added. This poll is indeed trans inclusive, not about genitals, and disinterested in whether anyone is a "real" lesbian.)

So, personally, I'm a lesbian who is both not attracted any man and would never have sex with any man under any circumstances. 100% of all people who have ever heard that I was a lesbian and then still thought there was some chance I might like men have done so because they were homophobic, so I will go on assuming that anyone who does that to me in the future is being homophobic, regardless of the existence of lesbians who do have any interest in men. Seeing as the results here confirm my assumption that the majority of lesbians don't have any interest men or have very little interest in very limited circumstances, I think that's fair of me. I don't think that makes me an exclusionist or whatever.

There absolutely needs to be a word to refer to the concept of a woman who likes women but not men. The best word we have for that is "lesbian", regardless of if that doesn't describe 100% of all lesbians. Why does there need to be a word we can use when we mean a woman who likes women but not men? Well, I can't possibly give you a better explanation of the concept of hermeneutical injustice than cj the x did, so i'm just gonna splice in their explanation from a completely unrelated video here. (I'm linking to a short clip from it so I suggest you watch it if you care enough to be reading this.)

"The philosopher Miranda Fricker coined this concept of Hermeneutical Injustice. This is when you lack the social language to communicate what you are experiencing to other people, therefore isolating you in your experience, and rendering you unable to name it, understand it, share it with others, do something about it. If there's no socially understood name for the thing you're experiencing or if you do not know the name for the thing you're experiencing, you're damned to experience it alone, wondering if it's even real, if you even deserve to feel this way about this thing you can't even articulate."

The point isn't that you're an "invalid lesbian" or whatever if the meaning "woman who likes women but not men" doesn't fully apply to you. I myself am genderfluid. The point is that if someone tells you they're a lesbian, assuming that means they aren't interested in men at all is the right thing to do.

I made this poll because I just wanted to know how many other lesbians felt the way I do.

Just to be very, very clear: this blog supports trans women. This is not asking about genital preference, nor whether you would have sex with a trans person, nor if you're "really" a lesbian based on your answer. Sexuality is complex and there are countless reasons a person might choose to have sex with someone else.

Be polite in the comments/reblogs.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[doberbutts]

So I'm going to ask an honest question here and ask you please explain in layman's terms. Every trans person I know irl has no concept of the transandrophobia discourse but every time I see more of it online I'm...unsettled, and it takes a lot to power through all the terminology.

I initially was really receptive to transandrophobia because the rationale behind being against it sounded stupid and akin to label discourse in the queer community. I saw "being a man is not an axis of oppression therefore you don't get your Own Word" and thought that was pedantic nonsense, that language doesn't need to adhere to that rule, and that it's helpful to have a term designated towards transmasculine experiences so people can find those experiences easier. Not that trans women's experiences aren't also beneficial! But that, well, obviously no matter how similar the experience birds of a feather and that sense of comfort of sharing identity still matters. This is true for other issues of identity too, I find, weather that's a good thing or a bad thing idk, but it is human.

The thing is I follow a lot of transwomen and have been seeing some alarms being raised about the community being formed around this word. You blocked one of the most egregious offenders so I trust you (which is why I'm asking sorry) I've seen a lot of misogyny and essentialism from people using the term "transandrophobia" and more egregiously "transmisandry." Idk your opinion on the latter term (I haven't scrolled down far enough on your blog, sorry if you talked about this before) but to me it's unconscionable. I was taught that transandrophobia existed as a term specifically NOT to use that term, that elevating misandry to a legitimate issue was dangerous for obvious reasons and it was one of the reasons why I was so supportive of transandrophobia. To me, it seemed like an awareness that misogyny was the prevailing issue behind all issues of gender oppression, but when I actually look at the tag I...get uncomfortable.

Blogs I follow have repeatedly been upset at misogyny from this community, and have been using the term "transandrobro" to describe behavior they find akin to cis MRAs. I've truly seen horrible things with hundreds, sometimes thousands of notes to it that do, unfortunately, feel like women are being blamed for the plight of trans men. I've seen cis people say they were originally on MRA reddits and then came to tumblr to "confront the misandry directly" only to wholeheartedly adopt transandrophobia into their worldview. It's hard because I KNOW I shouldn't judge a community based on a few crazies but it truly does feel sometimes like "transandrophobia" gives misogynists a venue to air their woman-hating to an eager audience, kinda like how "Karen" has been co-opted beyond the og meaning of being for racist white woman to any woman being mildly rude.

So like, here it is: can transandrophobia exist without being co-opted by misogynists? Is there a threshold of proliferation for misogynists destroying this word until a new one needs to be made? Or will every word trying to identify the transmasculine experience be inevitably co-opted by misogynists because misogynists are just that powerful, so people should double down harder on the word and work to push misogynists out?

(Also am I going crazy, or did this word a year ago used to have a WAY better community than the one I see nowadays. Back then I could find your blog and really compassionate people easily, and now it's just...bad.)

It is a little hard to understand some of this post but I will do my best to answer what I think is being asked.

To put simply, I think the reason why it was better a year or two ago is because the majority of the people who were actually trying to further the conversation and not just circle jerk in the echo chamber got chased off. Transandrophobia, anti-transmasculinity, transandromisia, transmascphobia... the guys who coined these are largely either not posting at all anymore or post far far less than they used to. They were harassed and the constant exposure to transphobia made them shut down their blogs for their own mental health. Not all of them, but a lot of the so-called "big names" had this happen.

Even I stopped posting for a while and shuttered the doors for a bit outside of a long queue of dog photos because of how much it was affecting my mental health.

In their place remain people who are not committed to the same conversation. Perhaps they are younger, or less familiar with the building blocks of theory that really should be required reading, or are still stuck in their "everything sucks and it's YOUR fault" phase. Maybe they do come from different places, like 4chan or reddit, which are less prone to this sort of discussion. A lot of the original crowd had been on tumblr long enough to remember when we could still edit posts, and I keep seeing people who would have been in elementary school at that time posting to the tag nowadays.

I was discussing this problem on discord with a small group of friends and one of them- a trans fem- called it second wave transandrophobia discourse as a bitter joke. I think she is more right than wrong, regardless.

I'm not sure who you believe I've blocked- in general I don't air out who I block on this blog because at nearly 12k followers there are too many people who would love to dogpile someone for the sin of disagreeing with me and I do my best to prevent that. I don't want anyone to be harassed, after all. There's a lot of assumptions that have been made about my block and follow behavior that vary from "hilarious but untrue" to "outright offensive slander".

People are people, and some people are shitheads. Trans mascs and people who want to support trans mascs are not exempt from that. I say this all the time- Kayne West is objectively a shitty person but his existence doesn't prove the concept of antiblackness to be a myth. Caitlyn Jenner is objectively a shitty person but her existence doesn't prove the concept of transmisogyny to be a myth. So why do shitty trans mascs prove our own theory to be dangerous or nonexistent? Why hold us to a higher standard than any other marginalized group?

I could ask you the same question- there are posts on here with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of notes made by trans fems and cis women who blame their problems with transmisogyny on trans mascs. There are people coming from reddit, Twitter, 4chan who are being actively transphobic and misogynistic and claiming they're doing it for the good of transfeminism. There are posts filled with misogyny and bioessentialism and gender essentialism and even interphobia and racism and transphobia being left completely unchecked. Do you think it would be acceptable for me to ask if that means transmisogyny theory should be abandoned or if we should just accept that it will draw people with bad intentions?

Or do you think the better answer is to focus instead on finding those with a good head on their shoulders, and making sure it's them who has their voice heard? Do you think we should maybe not judge entire demographics because there exists some shitty people who claim the same identity?

[beat-the-morning]

🖤🎄Under the tree || Hozier x Reader🎄🖤

READ ON TUMBLR UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: +18 || smut

Tags: 🎄Christmas Themed Fic🎄, face-fucking, cunnilingus, oral sex (both receiving), come swallowing, light dom/sub (fork found in kitchen), light bondage

Summary: You have a very special gift for Andrew this Christmas (the gift is you.)

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Yes, I know it’s not Christmas anymore. No, I don’t care about that, time isn’t real anyway. Shoutout to my editor (oomf) for editing while I get ready to post the fic. If there are any remaining typos fight them Not me. I’m not the one editing one handed, they are.

A/N 2: Everyone cheer that it only took me 20 days to write another fic instead of the usual month. Another one for that white boy of the year poll coming soon(ish). Hope you all had a very nice Christmas🎄❤️

💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙

It was Christmas Eve, Andrew was on his way back home from a Christmas charity busk in Dublin that you decided to stay home for so you could prepare a special surprise for him. You had told him as much when he asked you to go for the first time, which unnerved him slightly. You had instructed him to have dinner while he was out, so you could focus on the surprise when he got back.

He was 45 minutes away, and everything was ready, except you, that is. Your surprise was divided in smaller parts that you’d show him in the morning, but you needed to get ready for tonight’s, you were fresh out of the shower and smelled like cinnamon and sugar cookies, you walked out of the bathroom with nothing on and grabbed a few strips of red silk fabric and gift wrapping paper as you made your way downstairs to the Christmas tree. Then, carefully, wrapped yourself up as a gift for Andrew. The paper enveloped your ass and front, going up around your abdomen and chest, creating almost a dress shape, your legs tied together by the ankles and thighs while you kneeled in front of the tree. You tied a nice red silk bow on your hair and another one on your mouth, making it so you wouldn’t be able to speak, finally, you tied your hands together with the rest of the red fabric.

You waited patiently for around five minutes before Andrew finally got back, the lights in the house were off, the only light being candles, both real and battery-powered, that you had put around the house to create a path from the front door to the living room and from there to the bedroom. Andrew smiled as he went in, his mind going wild with ideas of what you could’ve been preparing for him.

“I’m back!” He called out as he took off his shoes and coat in the entryway, the house was warm and he could hear the crackling in the fireplace, so he took off his sweater, too, remaining in just his pants and a button-up shirt (with an undershirt under it). He made his way to the living room, following the candles, his eyes scanned the room looking for you when he entered, his eyes and smile widening when he saw you wrapped like a present under the tree. You tried your best not to move when he spotted you, though you could already feel an all too familiar dampness between your legs.

He walked over to you, his stride confident and smug, he squatted next to you, his hand caressing from your knees, up to the bow on your thighs with what could only be described as a lustful fire in his eyes. His hand moved softly up your paper dress and to your face, he held your chin firmly between his fingers, making you look at him. “Was this your surprise, love?” He teased, smirking.

You hummed and tried to nod to say yes, your eyes wide and submissive as you looked at him. Andrew smiled.

“Let me get this off you, sweetness.” He chuckled, taking off the bow on your mouth and giving you a quick tender kiss. “There we go, how are you feeling, baby?”

“Good.” You answered.

“I’m glad,” he kissed you again before standing up, his hand still holding your chin. “So, did you have a plan for after I got here or..?” He wandered.

“No, no plan, you can do whatever you want, I’m your present after all. Happy Christmas!” You smiled innocently.

His eyes darkened with lust. “Good,” he chuckled. “What’s your safeword for when you can’t speak, darling?”

You snapped your fingers twice. He smiled, his hand moving to undo his belt and pants. “I love getting new toys for Christmas.” He murmured, a shiver ran down your spine and straight into your core. He pulled out his cock without even taking off his pants, it was hard and leaking already. His other hand moved to your cheek, caressing it lovingly. “Don’t move your head, I’ll do everything, just sit and enjoy my cock like the little slut you are, okay?” He commanded.

“Oka-“ you went to speak but he cut you off before you could get a word out.

“Shh shh shh.” He shushed you, a finger over your lips. “Toys don’t talk. Now, nod if you’re okay with this.”

You nodded, mind fuzzy with arousal. He gently guided your mouth to open, slowly guiding his cock into it. He started thrusting gently, both his hands holding your head at this point, his cock teasing the back of your throat while you held your thumbs in your fists to get rid of the gag reflex as best as you could, though it was never quite enough thanks to his size.

He sped up, moaning softly as he fucked your mouth. His hands still caressed your face and hair every so often, you hummed in response, sending vibrations all through his shaft. “You fucking love this, don’t you? Being my toy, letting me use you, just- mmph!” A moan escaped him. “Just being mine.” He growled as he said that last word, gripping your head tighter and quickening his pace even more. He bared his teeth, sucking in a breath through them while scrunching up his face.

Andrew’s hand moved to the back of your head, taking your hair in his fist and using it to move your head closer to himself, he was moaning loudly, his face still scrunched up. Drool was running down your chin and dropping onto your breasts, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the wrapping paper dampening because of your wetness. You blinked a couple times, your eyes focusing on Andrew, he was glowing in the soft light of the candles and the Christmas tree, his hair wild and unruly, he was looking up, mouth agape while he moaned, you could see his neck, red and blushing, you could only imagine how the rest of him had to be. His hands on your head were still freezing from when he was outside, the cold serving as an anchor keeping you in reality.

You kept humming as he fucked your mouth, whimpering every time he bottommed out and hit the back of your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth, the taste of his precum already in your mouth, his moans became shorter and more breathy, he was close. His grip on your head tightened once more, he pushed his cock all the way in, then quickly pulled almost all the way out, you sucked him, knowing he was about to come. He smirked.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He murmured, his voice deep and thick with lust, his Irish accent somehow more noticeable than before. He continued to fuck your throat. “Wanna swallow, baby? Hm? We can’t make a mess yet, can we? I haven’t even finished playing with my toy.”

You moved your head ever so slightly, taking his dick as deep as you could, he smiled, humping your face a couple times before he came down your throat with a loud moan. Your nose was buried in his pubic bone as he emptied himself, his trimmed hairs brushing against your face before he finally pulled out, a string of saliva and cum still joining your lips with his shaft. He breathed, petting your hair lovingly with one hand while putting himself back in his pants with the other.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, did you know that?” He said softly, a loving smile on his face. He kneeled down next to you, looking at the bows on your arms and legs that restrained your movements, then at the wrapping paper that covered your body. “I think I should finish opening my present, don’t you?” He teased, chuckling softly.

He ripped open the paper, throwing it away the second it wasn’t touching you anymore. His hands, still cold, moved to your chest, fondling and squeezing it, your nipples hardened almost immediately, letting him pinch and pull at them. You moaned and whimpered, your back arching towards him. His hands wandered lower on your body, untying the bows on your thighs and ankles, you raised your hands for him to untie as well, but instead he moved them to be behind his neck so that you would be holding onto him.

With that, he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, making you squeal at the sudden movement. “Andy!” You giggled as he walked. “Put me down!”

“Absolutely not,” he smiled, “I haven’t finished with you yet.”

He laid you down on the bed, taking your arms by the bow that tied them together, moving them away from his head and towards the headboard, making another knot to tie them to it. You pulled at your restraints, and sure enough, they didn’t budge, making Andrew smile.

“You look so pretty when you’re tied up, did you know that?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your jaw and neck.

You moaned softly at the kisses, your body moving instinctively towards his touch. He went lower, kissing down from your collarbone, along your chest and abdomen, and finishing by kissing your mound. Your legs parted for him, he settled between them, putting your thighs over his shoulder and holding them tight.

“I won’t go overboard tonight, I promise,” he smiled again, placing a quick kiss on your thigh. You nodded, knowing what was to come.

He dove into you like it was his first meal in weeks, lapping at your juices with fervour, he moaned at your taste, moving his head side to side while pushing forward to get closer to you, his nose rubbed against your clit as he moved his mouth lower, his tongue darting out to thrust inside your core. You pulled at your restraints again, soft whines from frustration and pleasure mixing together. Your hips moved involuntarily, increasing the friction between your clit and his nose, your climax quickly building up thanks to your existing arousal. Andrew’s hand moved around your thigh and towards your clit, playing with it while his tongue went in and out of you again and again. His beard scratched your thighs, you could feel his smile on your core and hear it in the moans loud enough to not be drowned and muffled in your body.

Your legs started to twitch slightly, the all familiar coil in your stomach threatening to snap. Your breathing became irregular, making you whimper softly, the sounds only encouraging him further, his fingers on your clit moving faster and faster until you finally reached your peak. Your hips buckled into his face as you moaned loudly, he drank every drop of your essence as your legs shook ever so slightly, your moans quickly turning into whines.

He pulled away slowly, kissing your inner thighs before finally untying your wrists. He massaged them softly, kissing both of them before speaking softly.

“All good, love?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

He pulled you into a hug, laying down on the bed and letting you rest on his chest while he played with your hair.

“That was a wonderful gift, by the way.” He whispered into your hair.

“It’s just the first of many,” you smiled, your voice slightly hoarse from moaning. “Not all of them are like this one, though.”

He chuckled, his other hand squeezing you lovingly. “I didn’t expect them to be, don’t worry.” He kissed your hair. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Happy Christmas, darling.”

[rxreid]

hi!!! would you be up for writing a soft dom bellamy x best friend reader fic/oneshot? maybe he gets jealous when he sees other guys flirting/talking about y/n in a sexual way. and bellamy being protective, pulled reader away and confesses his love to her?

realms of friendship - b.b

also requested: “hi gurll i didn’t know 100 writers were still active you’re feeding me bc no one writes bellamy smut anymore 😞 i just need porn with a plot please surprise me and keep em comin !” + “hi this is my first time asking but can u plsss write blake smut. like literally anything im so deprived of him im begging.”

warnings: SMUT! unprotected p in v, that’s pretty much it. brief mention of a gun?? but not kinky. technically takes place in s3 of the 100.

word count: 5.1k

characterisation: reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns & feminine terms.

comments: here u go anons!! i hope this is okay…it’s far from the best thing i’ve written, but i wanted to write a bellamy fic whilst i was sure i had some free time. it might be a little ooc, only because i’m not super used to writing for him yet. nevertheless, feel free to send in more request for blurbs/hcs/fics! the first two are more likely to be answered quickly <3. if you don’t wanna read the smut, there’s a divider before it gets spicy :)

“I just think if you popped a couple of buttons open, maybe let your hair loose once in a while, the guys in camp would be all over you,” Jasper shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans into the backseat of the rover, his lips carrying that same ‘carefree’ smirk he’s had since getting out of Mount Weather.

Murphy snorts, sitting opposite Jasper in the trunk. “As if,” he snickers, his nose crinkling in amusement. “The guys in camp are already all over her, she’s just too frigid to give them a try, ain’t that right?” he grins, leaning forward to rest his hands on the leather of her seat, placing his chin on the edge as he peeks into the front. She internally grimaces at his proximity, twisting in her spot to lean against the window, her brows slightly furrowed at the two boys.

“Shut up,” she grumbles quietly, mirroring Jasper’s position and folding her arms, the expression on her face betraying her distaste for the topic of conversation. She's aware that the two boys are purposely trying to rile her up, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with when they get like this.

In the backseat, Jasper kicks his feet up, somehow managing to stay upright despite the bumps in the track as Bellamy roughly drives the four of them back to camp. “Yeah, right. Like who? You?” he muses teasingly, raising a brow at Murphy, as if daring him to take their game further.

“Hell yeah, me,” Murphy retorts cockily, still flashing his borderline predatory grin to her. “With a face that pretty and an ass like that, I can’t understand why she’s not been snatched up,” he smirks, his words complimentary in his own mind yet being perceived entirely different by the recipient. He keeps his gaze on her as he talks to Jasper, briefly glancing over at Bellamy in the driver's seat. The older boy’s nose is turned up in disgust as he listens to the conversation, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent from his grip on the steering wheel.

She scrunches her nose up too, her cheeks heating up at Murphy’s words, feeling a wave of embarrassment pass through her body. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, and he takes it upon himself to lean further over her seat, his chest fully pressed against the back. “What? Not even a thank you?” he taunts, his grin getting wider at the way she squirms under his stare. “Eh, whatever. You look better with your mouth shut. Plus, I can think of other ways to keep it occupied,” he snickers crudely, lifting his arm as he begins to reach his hand around her chair.

In an instant, Bellamy’s fingers are clasping Murphy’s wrist, his grip too tight to pass as merely playful. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, his voice stern as he pushes him into the back of the rover once more. “Back off, Murphy, you don’t need to be so close to her,” he mutters gruffly, his lips slightly pursed into a scowl.

A huff escapes Murphy’s lips as he’s roughly pushed back, thudding into the seat opposite Jasper again, who’s tickled by the entire situation. “Ow. Jeez, Blake, loosen up a little. She knows I’m just fuckin’ with her,” he grumbles, his thumb and pointer finger wrapping around his wrist to soothe the ache of Bellamy’s previous grip. “She’s dead weight, anyway. Dunno why we bring her on these trips if we can’t have some fun with her.”

Bellamy glares at Murphy through the windscreen mirror, his protectiveness for the girl beside him flaring up. He knows he should probably tone it down to avoid suspicion of any deeper feelings for his best friend, but he can’t let her be mercilessly teased when he knows she won't stand up for herself. Plus, the insinuation of her friends bringing her on supply runs purely to sleep with her makes his skin crawl. “Stop being a fucking perv,” he snaps, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly as his hand returns to it.

Murphy furrows his brows, clearly displeased with Bellamy’s interruption of his fun. “I’m not bein’ a perv,” he retorts, his voice laced with offence, “I’m just lettin’ the lady know that she’s got options if she wants it,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes over dramatically, his ego bruised.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want you,” Bellamy grits, pressing down on the gas a little harsher, his mood souring at the thought of spending any longer in the vehicle whilst Murphy shamelessly flirts with his friend. friend.

“Now shut up for the rest of the drive or I’m throwing you out and you’re walking back to camp. Both of you.”

Her eyes go slightly wide at Bellamy’s defence, raising her brows in surprise. She looks back at Jasper and Murphy, who are both staring at her incredulously, and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the short drive is spent in silence, with nobody wanting to get onto Bellamy’s bad side again. Her gaze remains focused on the landscape flying by, thoughts wandering to the boy beside her, as they most often do.

Upon the group’s return to Arkadia, Bellamy pulls into the garage, the roaring of the rover dying in an instant as he shuts it off. “Out,” he orders gruffly, earning a grumble from both Murphy and Jasper as they hop out of the vehicle, slamming the doors behind them before heading away from the garage. She follows suit, watching Bellamy climb out too, and she instinctively starts heading away, not wanting to catch the brunt of his lingering moodiness.

“Not you.”

She stops in her tracks as his words echo through the empty garage, slowly turning around to face him. “Not…me?” she questions, her brows arched. She’s half expecting him to tell her she’s forgotten something, or that she needs to help him unload the rover, but the way his expression has softened tenfold from just minutes ago makes her slightly uneasy.

“Not you,” he repeats, his voice softer, taking a few steps towards her. “What was all that about? Why were you just sitting there letting Jasper and Murphy talk about you like that?”

A dry chuckle escapes her lips, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at the memory. “Used to it by now,” she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Murphy’s been that way since the dawn of time, and Jasper’s new emo phase has him acting like a dick 24/7. It’s whatever,” she huffs, puckering her lips as she stands awkwardly, her gaze shifting around.

“It’s just not ‘whatever’ though, is it?” he retorts sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps closer once more. “You shouldn’t let them believe they can talk to you like that, it’ll just get worse if they think they can get away with it. I know what guys are like,” he says, the idea of her being so compliant with being objectified stirring a flame deep in his heart, his instincts screaming at him to shield her from such taunts.

She snorts at his sass, amused by how insistent he’s getting. “I really don’t care about what they have to say, Blake,” she says, shaking her head slightly and shrugging her shoulders. She’s speaking truthfully - the teasing she endures from other boys in camp is practically an everyday occurrence by now.

“Bellamy,” he corrects.

“What?”

“You’re my best friend. It’s Bellamy to you, not Blake. You know I don’t like that.”

“Okay…” she says, dragging her syllables out briefly. “I don’t really care, Bellamy,” she repeats.

“I do,” he shrugs simply, placing his hands onto his hips. She, too, narrows her eyes at that, scanning his features from any ulterior motive to his words. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his eyes carry a hint of concern, and she’s trying to figure out why without straight up asking.

After a few seconds, she sighs softly, tilting her head backwards as she lets out a groan, a little embarrassed by the entire situation. She lets her head fall straight again, looking over at him. “Bell, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you barking at your friends for me. I can handle it.”

He chuckles at that, and she’s almost offended that the one thing to make him laugh is the thought of her defending herself. “Listen, you can tell me to back off, tell me whatever the hell you want, but you should know by now that I’m not the type of guy to stand by when you’re evidently uncomfortable, princess. If they pull that shit again when I’m around-,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down slightly, raising his brows, “-I’m gonna say something.”

“You’re really annoying,” she deadpans, her eyes still narrowed as he leans to be level with her.

“Not annoying, just protective of my friends,” he shrugs, his hand trailing down to lightly skim across her arm, stilling there. “And you happen to be my best one, so you get the brunt of it.”

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff, her gaze roaming the garage. “Gee, thanks, lucky me,” she grumbles, her brows softly furrowed together.

He hums, straightening up once more as he looks down at her. “Damn straight, lucky you,” he grins, a rare sight from the usual scowl adorning his lips. His gaze is downcast, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes always prominent when his focus is on the girl before him. “And stop that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” he mutters teasingly, lifting his free hand to smooth out the dip between her brows with his thumb.

A faint blush dusts her cheeks as his thumb swipes across her skin, her gaze briefly dashing to his teeth poking behind his lips before back to his eyes. She’s used to him being somewhat touchy, always greeting her with a reunion hug or squeezing her shoulders when she needs reassurance, but something in the air feels different with him tonight.

“Why’d you really defend me against Jasper and Murphy, huh?” she murmurs, her eyes roaming his features skeptically.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but his grin widens cheekily as he steps forward again, his thumb moving to swipe her jaw, silently signalling his next move.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, her eyes widening a smidge as she pieces together what he’s boldly getting at, her own mind running a thousand miles per hour. She finally uncrosses her arms, letting them fall slack at her sides, subtly opening herself up to him. If Bellamy Blake, her best friend, kisses her right here in this garage, she might just have to face a year's worth of pent up emotions, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Why not?” Bellamy whispers, his grin widening as he slowly leans in. At first he was teasing her, but the closer he gets, the more tempting it is to close the gap.

“It’ll change everything,” she retorts quietly, unable to stop herself from taking a peek at his plump lips, his cupids bow littered with stubble.

“No it won’t.”

“Liar.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, he leans in, closing the gap until his lips are ghosting over hers, their noses brushing together. He doesn’t take it any further, keeping their lips a mere few millimeters apart as he waits for her to make the final move, his own lips curved up in a smile so bright she thinks she might go blind.

She huffs at him, seeing what he’s playing at. “I hate you,” she grumbles, all prior thoughts ditching her brain as she presses her lips against his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as they both close their eyes. He’s slightly chapped, but she hadn’t expected much different, so she’s not bothered. She has no room to complain when her best friend, likely the most sought after man in Arkadia, is kissing her so sweetly.

Sweetly doesn't last too long, his lips pressing against hers with more insistence as his hand gently squeezes her arm, his other cupping her cheek. He pokes his tongue out, swiping it across her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry to her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss he’s so desperately been waiting for. When she keeps her lips firmly pressed together, he furrows his brows.

“Lemme in,” he mumbles against her lips, trying again with his tongue.

“No,” she retorts quietly, closing her lips up immediately to keep him out.

“Why not?” he groans gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of a pout on his face.

She pulls back fully, her hands lingering in the air by his waist, not quite willing to place them yet. “Not until you tell me why you’re kissing me,” she whispers, her voice holding a vulnerability that wasn't there minutes ago.

Shaking his head in amusement, he drops his gaze briefly to quietly laugh at her question, before looking at her once more. “Are you seriously asking me that, princess?” he grins, his forehead creasing. “Why does anyone kiss another person?”

She looks up at him, her mind racing with possible answers. For love? For lust? For the hell of it? “I dunno,” she decides is the best answer, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he chuckles, his thumb moving to brush across her chin.

“Yeah. Say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy huffs, smirking at her obliviousness. “Okay, listen carefully, yeah? I…want to kiss you…because I like you, ‘kay? Romantically. R-O-M-A–”

She cuts him off with a smack to his chest at his sarcasm, her cheeks flaring up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it!” she grumbles, letting her head fall down to his shoulder on instinct, wanting to shield herself from his teasing. His grin only widens as she hides her face from him, his hands going to her waist as he nudges his nose into her hair.

“Might even go as far as to say I love you,” he whispers, gently moving her hair out of his way to ghost his lips against her neck, his touch a lot softer than she ever would have anticipated.

“You don’t,” she retorts, lifting her head just an inch to open up her neck to him.

“I do,” a kiss to her pulse point.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Can’t stand hearing other guys talk about you like how they were earlier,” a kiss to her jaw.

“You don’t.”

“I do, princess, and you love me too,” a kiss just below her ear.

“I-” she cuts herself off with a groan, knowing she can’t in good conscience stand here and tell him she doesn’t love him.

Bellamy chuckles at her groan, tilting her head to make her look at him once more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters cockily. “You gonna let me in now?” he questions, his lips hovering above hers for the second time in a few minutes.

“Fine,” she scoffs.

The gap is closed once more in an instant as he presses his mouth to hers, wasting no time before slipping his tongue into her parted lips. He hums at the taste of her, living up to everything he’d ever imagined and more. Her world narrows down to just him and his mouth, her hands finally placing themselves on his waist, fingertips skimming beneath his tan shirt. She can’t help the small moan that passes her lips as he laps his tongue against hers, kissing her like a man starved.

He laughs against her lips again as she moans, hooking his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She does so without hesitation, though she’s slightly stumped by his haste.

“Eager, much?” she mutters as she pulls away, the string of saliva between their mouths breaking as she talks.

A grin breaks onto his lips once more, and he looks over her shoulder as he quickly navigates out of the garage and down the hall, heading for his quarters. “You want me to slow down? You wanna drag this out any longer than we already have?” he grunts out, barely even straining under her weight in his arms as he walks through the remnants of the ark.

“No,” she replies quietly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“Exactly.”

He finds his quarters relatively quickly, even with his vision slightly impaired by her hair. Nudging the door open, he takes them both into the room, ensuring it’s closed behind him before he gently lays her down against the pillows, his frame hovering above hers. She’s been in his quarters many times - they usually hang out in one another’s rooms - but she’s never been beneath him, and she has definitely never felt his growing arousal against the junction between her thighs. Yet, here she is. There’s a first for everything.

She can’t tear her gaze away when he sits up on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in his room. She squeals as he roughly tugs her boots from her feet, followed by his own, their shoes additionally being tossed aside. Her eyes roam his now bare chest, and she audibly gulps. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him bare chested before, of course she has, but never this close, and never with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her.

“Rude to stare,” he mutters, pressing himself between her legs as he dips his head to her neck, starting off with light, gentle kisses.

She rolls her eyes at that, her knees nudging his sides and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Well, apparently we’re more than friends now, so I think I’m allowed to,” she mumbles, tilting her neck to grant him better access.

A chuckle escapes him, and he can’t argue with it. “Fair enough,” he murmurs against her skin, biting down softly on her flesh before letting go. “Can’t tell you how many times you were here in my room,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly against hers. “Sittin’ pretty on my bed… or at my desk,” he grunts, his hands holding her waist, slipping beneath her shirt. “And I couldn’t stop imagining having you like this.”

At the roll of his hips she lets out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hand worms into his hair, tugging on his curls as he continues his assault on her neck. “And yet you called Murphy a perv?” she teases breathlessly, her head dropping back against his pillow.

He growls at the mention of Murphy, pulling away from the love bite he’d been curating to look down at her. “Who’s the one who actually got the girl, huh? Yeah. Me. Fuck him, the little freak,” he grumbles, his fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. “Lift,” he instructs quietly, his tone immediately changing to a more delicate one with her.

She obliges, reaching to grab the hem of her shirt, sitting up slightly and lifting it over her head, tossing it into the forming pile. She reaches behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra before finally getting it undone, leaving it covering her breasts.

He narrows her eyes at her as she teases him, not letting it last long before he grabs her bra straps, carefully tugging them down until she’s fully exposed, her bra joining the pile.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his hands moving to knead her chest without hesitation, and he feels any remnants of blood running straight to his crotch. “Way better than I imagined. Perfect, even,” he mutters, hastily leaning his head down to capture one of her buds in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he groans around her.

Giggling at his haste, she keeps both hands tangled in his hair, her back arching slightly towards his mouth. “Mm, baby, you gonna stay there forever?” she breathlessly murmurs with a grin, watching as he spends at least a few minutes lavishing at her chest.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that,” Bellamy groans, finally letting his mouth leave her chest. “I’m coming back to you two. Mark my words,” he mutters, giving her a final squeeze before he sits back on his haunches. He fumbles around with his toolbelt, mindlessly throwing it - along with the gun nestled in it - somewhere in his bedroom, before his hands begin to work at his zipper.

She looks up at him, biting her lip at the obvious tent in his cargos. She decides to occupy herself whilst he’s busy, undoing her own zipper and lifting her hips, wiggling out of her pants. They both finish undressing at the same time, gazing at one another with massive grins as they take in the sights.

“Shit, I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you, princess,” Bellamy blurts out, his curls loosely falling across his forehead as he leans over her again, his hands roaming her hips with intent.

Her lips part at his words, a little shocked, but she's not sure what else she was expecting him to say. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning up at him as she pushes back his curls.

“Yeah? Why can’t I?” he mutters, catching her wrist in his hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. He looks down at the space between them, the sight of her in just her panties sending him borderline insane. “Any- fuck, any other time I would usually love a little foreplay, but I’ve literally been waiting a year for this, and I don’t think I can wait another second,” he huffs with a grin, looking down at her for approval.

She nods in agreement, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down, sealing their lips together in another kiss. It’s much more desperate now, their shared hunger evident in the way their tongues bind together, a mess of pants and pent up longing. His fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, tapping her hips twice so she lifts them, before slowly pulling her panties down her legs, his lips never leaving hers.

Bellamy reaches his hand carefully between her legs, caressing her hip for a moment before finding the spot between her thighs, the tip of his middle finger sliding through her folds. He groans against her mouth, elated to be greeted by a slickness evidently just for him. “D’you always get this wet,” he mutters against her mouth, pressing sloppy kisses against her lips between his words.

She gasps quietly at the contact, shaking her head. She definitely is not usually this aroused, and she’s certain it’s because of how long her body has been waiting to feel this specific set of hands against her skin.

“Oh, yeah?” he grins cockily, moving his lips to her neck once more. “So this is all for me, princess? Just me?” he teases, his fingertip lightly caressing her now, teasingly moving around and avoiding where she needs him most.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her hand tugging on his hair, desperate for more contact. “Bell, I thought you said no foreplay,” she whines.

He beams at her whine, feeling a rush of pride at how quickly he can reduce her to a mess of desperation, even on their first time together. “Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he murmurs against her neck, reaching his hands down to free himself from the confines of his boxers. He groans as the cold air hits his skin, slowly positioning himself between her thighs. A quiet moan leaves her lips at the sensation of the head of his cock running between her folds before he slowly sheathes himself fully, having to bite down on her shoulder to muffle his moan.

She can’t help but whimper at the sheer size of him, her eyes widening as he eventually bottoms out. She hadn’t had the chance to actually see him before he conjoined their bodies, but god, she can feel every inch and crevice of him, pressed snugly against the wall of her cervix.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he pulls back from her neck, watching the space between their bodies. He slowly pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands on her waist keeping her steady. “Couldn’t ever conjure up a dream this good,” he mutters, his voice strained.

A moan is all she can let out, her brows furrowed as he steadily begins to move. She’s on the same wavelength as him, trying to register that this is really happening, she’s not dreaming, and her best friend is definitely fucking her.

He moves to grip her thigh with one hand, pulling it up around his waist as he finds a rhythm, deepening himself within her. His strokes are steady and forceful, each one perfectly designed to elicit that sweet moan from her lips as he works, his thighs tensing with the exertion. “Mine,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

She whimpers sharply at his words, her legs curling around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he picks up the pace. She reaches for him again, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps his hair. “Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes slipping closed as her back arches up towards him. “Fuck, there’s perfect.”

Bellamy grins at her moans, a rush of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He angles his hips to replicate his previous thrust, driving into her from that same position. “Right here, princess?” he groans out, his other hand holding her hip with a bruising pressure, feeling her clench around him. “Oh, yeah, you liked that, huh? Lookin’ so gorgeous beneath me, fucking perfect, every inch of you.”

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans gradually increasing in octave as he learns his way around her body, figuring out what works best for her. His cock slides in and out with ease, twitching within her as his tip smacks against her womb, letting him know just how deep he is. She can barely think straight, her mind a whirlwind of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy. Her eyes open once more, instantly met with his own warm brown ones looking back at her, his gaze unwavering as he studies her expression, committing every movement of her face to memory. He grins wolfishly at her as she looks at him, driving his hips into her with a newfound force, desperate to see her face contort with a release.

Unexpectedly, he sits back on his calves, bringing her with him. His hand moves to her lower back, looking up at her as he quickly encourages her to move with him. “There you go, princess,” he mutters, one hand holding her hip to guide her. She obeys, of course, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, imprinting crescent moons into his skin as she moves her hips on top of him, whining loudly whilst he drives up into her, meeting every thrust she makes. “Good girl, fuck, so pretty like this.”

The moan that escapes her is borderline deafening as he praises her, her head dropping into the crook of his neck. Her body moves sensually against his, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks with every movement she makes. He presses a kiss against the valley of her breasts, grunting as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening. “I love you,” he mutters against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. “So fucking much. Should’ve done this so long ago, baby, god, should’ve done this back at the dropship,” he moans, twitching inside of her as his release rapidly approaches.

She whimpers relentlessly against his neck, her hand bunching up his hair so tightly she’s worried she might rip it out. She would respond if she could, but she’s too focused on the pleasure he’s giving her, feeling drunk on every jolt of his cock within her.

Bellamy whines a little at the grip on his hair, his head tilting back as he uses all of his strength to pound up into her. He keeps one hand on her lower back, the other reaching down to find her clit, rubbing tight circles against her, needing to feel her come around him. “So close, princess,” he gasps, his free hand moving down to grip at her ass, kneading it between her fingers. “So fucking close. Gonna come and make you mine for good, yeah? Nobody’s gonna say shit about you anymore,” he moans, his head still thrown back.

Nodding rapidly, she pulls back too, her eyes roaming his exposed neck as she continues moving, despite the ache in her thighs. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, the small stubble gracing his chin and mouth, the way his lips are parted, it’s all too much. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, swiping across the scar there, and she can’t take much more, tugging his hair to smash her lips against his yet again.

He groans against her mouth, unable to keep himself upright as he falls fully against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. From here, he can angle his hips to drive up into her at a brutal force, her ass smacking against his thighs with every thrust. He can feel her walls tightening around him, knowing he’s just as close as she is.

“Come with me, princess. Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against her lips, her clit dragging against his pelvis with every harsh pound he delivers to her.

It's not long before he’s thrusting in harshly one final time, coming with a loud grunt of her name and spilling deep into her womb, painting her as his.

His orgasm spurs on her own, her body convulsing around him as she comes, his tongue swallowing her moans, along with a muffled screech of his name. She pants heavily, pulling away from his mouth and collapsing against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his tanned skin.

He huffs out a laugh, his pupils wide with bliss, wrapping his arms around her as she collapses. “Yeah, holy fucking shit,” he repeats, his hand slowly running up and down her back, trying to soothe her trembling body. “You okay?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Was that okay?”

She grins against his chest, her eyes closing and her body relaxing. “That was more than okay,” she whispers, slowly lifting her hips so he slips out of her, softening now, the both of them able to get more comfortable. “You’re like…way better than I imagined,” she teases.

“Oh, you thought I’d be bad, huh? I don’t have a reputation for nothing,” he smirks, sitting up with her in his arms and shuffling them around so they're pressed against the pillows, her head on his chest. the slight sheen of sweat over the planes of his muscles isn’t a bother, an overwhelming sense of comfort washing over her.

“Mm, actually, you were totally shit,” she teases, snuggling closer to him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in.

“Liar,” he grins.

“We’ll see,” she mutters tiredly, echoing their previous words. “But, for the record, I love you, too.”

congrats if u made it this far <3 ty for reading i promise they’ll get better 😔

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

Hey, I read your post about the harmful impact of saying "going nonverbal" and the like. As a low-needs autistic person who has speech loss episodes, it was really helpful in educating me on circumstances that I never considered, and I really appreciate that!

I have a bit of a question, and if you feel uncomfortable answering for whatever reason, feel free to delete this ask. I also apologize in advance if I say anything disrespectful, and if you can correct me on those things I will be glad to hear it so I can learn to be better.

I have DID and therefore am part of a system. We are all autistic, though we each showcase symptoms differently. Some of our alters showcase symptoms more severely than others, in that they cannot speak and cannot communicate their needs because of various reasons (severe dissociation with body, trauma response, etc). Since I now know nonverbal isn't an appropriate term for us, I'm wondering if you have any thoughts on how we can describe those headmates. I'm not sure if they fully fit saying that they have "speech loss episodes", because they are fully unable to communicate at all times (even with the rest of us), though they are not always "in the driver's seat" of the body, so to speak. What do you think would be an appropriate term for them? (I know this might be a bit out-of-bounds of your experience as it's more about dissociative disorders than autism, but if you have any insight, that would be great! I definitely don't want to be using the wrong terminology.)

Again, apologies if this is in any way disrespectful. I see now what you mentioned in your post about how true nonverbal folks are drowned out by folks with speech loss episodes, so I figured it would be best to ask you directly, but if you are unable to answer for whatever reason, feel free to delete this ask! No worries.

We hope you're having a nice day!

no worries, not out of bounds for own experience

yep, you exactly right that alter / headmate / system member / etc who can’t mouth speak in system that can mouth speak, is not nonverbal. even if feel like or is own separate person, even if don’t have so called body verbality because so blendy. — just like how alter who can’t hear in hearing system not Deaf, how darker alter in white skin system not Black or Brown or Asian etc. (though these also continue be issue in system community) — n really glad you noticed (genuine)

personally find best n clearest say “[alter] cannot speak”.

have heard people try coin new adjective identity words for this experience. can look those up if want, but for me they 1) too many n confusing n new n thus inaccessible to keep up so don’t, 2) niche micro label which have its purpose n you may or may not find useful, but in situation of limited communication n time, give unheard of term you then have to define take more time n effort than just quick “can’t speak”, 3) some of them suspiciously way too close to “nonverbal” “nonspeaking”

thank you for question!

[1moreff-creator]

Okay listen, listen. Eden's Garden CH1 was great and I loved it and I'll make a more detailed analysis post about it at some point. And Eva in particular is fantastic and my favorite character. There's just- There's just a little, little issue I have with her FTEs, and if I don't talk about it I'm gonna explode. 

Spoilers for P:EG CH1 and Eva's FTEs.

CW: I am about to be a Massive Fucking Nerd on main.

This post was originally going to be about how Eva's papers, the way she describes them, sound like they kinda suck. But then I realized that the way she describes the Riemann zeta function… is just wrong???? Like, it doesn't converge to- EVA WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?!?!?!?!

Like, look, I don't think "Eva sucks at writing papers actually” is the conclusion I'm meant to reach after doing her FTEs. I'm also pretty sure the mistakes she makes when describing the Riemann zeta function (henceforth "zeta function” for brevity) are just mistakes on the writers’ part, which is fine because that thing is very confusing. 

And to be clear, Eva being bad at writing papers doesn't mean she's actually bad at science. I mean, she apparently solved the goddamn Riemann Hypothesis, and doesn't even think it's that big a deal!

Eva, sad [3rd FTE]: They'll put it on my gravestone: here lies the girl who could barely solve Riemann's stupid hypothesis. 

(Thank you Ani from youtube for uploading these things it makes citation so much easier <3)

Girliepop if I solved a problem that's stumped mathematicians for over a hundred years (which carries a million dollar prize btw), you bet your fucking ass I want that on my gravestone! And look, I know that this is not necessarily due to her doing more impressive stuff in mathematics. That it's more so because she's internalized what other people think about her skills, and since a lot of people erroneously believe math is uncool she doesn't think this is as big a deal as it is. But the fact that she managed to solve this thing at all, not to mention at eighteen years old, already puts her in contention for best mathematician of the damn century. And that's incredible, because math is badass. 

In short, Eva's cool and a great mathematician. But the way she talks about her other work, the papers she wishes got more recognition, makes me really doubt her actual skill as a writer of these papers. Let me explain. 

There are three papers Eva mentions writing, or thinking about writing, across her FTEs. One about literature, another about lightspeed travel, and one about the Riemann zeta function. 

Eva [1st FTE]: Earlier this year, I wrote a whole paper on an obscure subgenre of Western speculative fiction… I spent weeks on it, expecting it to receive a lot of attention from literary critics…

Eva [1st FTE]: I could write a research paper on the theoretical possibility of lightspeed travel, but no one would care, because…

Eva [4th FTE]: …I wrote a paper about how you can use tabletop gaming to understand [the Riemann zeta function].

Now, I can't say anything about the literature paper, because she gives no details on it. I also don't know enough about literature to know how long it usually takes to write papers on it, so I'll take her word for it that working for weeks on it is notable. 

For the hypothetical paper about the "theoretical possibility of lightspeed travel", I have my doubts, but she also doesn't give enough details about what that paper would entail for me to definitively say anything about it. We'll get back to this one, though.

Meanwhile, the paper she gives the most details on is the Riemann zeta function one, and… yeah that one's trash. 

There’s two reasons I say that. One is the technical issue with the description she gives, which basically boils down to “there’s severe inaccuracies in her explanation and also she just straight up gets some things wrong,” and is extremely nerdy and math heavy to explain; and the other is a much more fundamental problem with the very thesis of the paper, which doesn’t require math to explain, but I’ll leave for later. 

I’ll start with the technical side and the things she gets wrong about the zeta function. I’ll try to make this accessible for non-math nerds, but fair warning, this is pretty difficult math so I can only do so much. That includes keeping to the tabletop analogy Eva used in the spirit of the thing. 

By the way, take everything I'm about to say with a grain of salt. I'm a third year Physics major, so while I know way more math than the average person, I am by no means an expert. I am liable to get things wrong. In fact, I actually didn't know anything about the zeta function or the Riemann hypothesis before seeing these FTEs, I just researched them because I got curious about the Riemann hypothesis after seeing it show up in not one, but two fangans I've seen (it has a cameo in DR Despair Time if you're curious). However, even though I'm not an expert, I think I know enough to definitively say Eva's very wrong about a few things.

Lots of math incoming, TL;DR after the next red title

As a refresher, this is a paraphrased version of what she explains.

Eva (Paraphrased) [4th FTE]: Take 1, ½, ⅓, ¼, and so on for infinity, and pretend they are characters in a tabletop game (TTG). An enemy casts a status effect on your denominators so that they are all raised to the power of p, where the value of p is decided by dice roll. Now your characters are 1, 1/2ˆp, 1/3ˆp, etc. For your turn, you add all of your characters together, and that’s the zeta function ζ(p) = 1 + 1/2ˆp + 1/3ˆp + ... What is the value of ζ(p)?

This is good, that sum is indeed the first way to define the zeta function (more on that later), so it's correct. However, she then makes two statements. 

Statement 1: If p is higher than 1, then you get a whole number; a number without decimals. ( ζ(p) = a whole number). Statement 2: If p is lower than 1, then you get 0, “an infinite amount of zeroes.” ( ζ(p) = 0).

(You’ll notice I put that last thing in quotes. I’ll get back to it)

Now, I’m going to ignore a few minor inaccuracies which Eva likely makes to simplify the concepts, because they’re not too important. For example; you can’t “add” infinite numbers, that’s not a thing. An infinite series can converge, which is slightly different from arithmetic addition. However, the two things are close enough that, for most people, the distinction doesn’t really matter. In other words, I’m fine with her saying she’s adding infinite numbers together, and similar claims. 

There's one inaccuracy I can’t gloss over, though; Eva never tells Damon which dice is rolled to determine the value of p. In math terms, she never tells him the domain of the function (the domain of a function, btw, is the set of values for which the function is defined). Are the values p can take real or complex? Can it be any real/complex, or are there restrictions? 

For the unaware, since this is gonna come up, I’ll define a complex number using the TTG analogy. A complex number is a special character born by adding together a real number "r" (one of the numbers you’re all familiar with), and another real number "b" equipped with (math: multiplied by) the Epic Tier item known as the imaginary unit “i”. This Epic item has the property that iˆ2 = -1. So basically a complex number "z" is one where

z = r + bi

where r,b are real and i is the imaginary unit. "r" is known as the real component, and "b" is the imaginary component.

(Note: All real numbers are complex numbers where b=0, but not all complex numbers are real)

In case you’re curious, these things are used in several fields, such as the study of electrical circuits with alternating current, and they appear in relation to the Schrödinger equation- I’m getting off track.

So, what dice does Eva want the opponent to roll to define p? Well, she never says it, but we can infer. She says that p can be “higher than 1,” and that clues us in that she’s probably rolling the dice of real numbers. After all, there’s no universally agreed upon definition of what it means for a complex number to be “higher than” another complex number. Meanwhile, she doesn’t mention any restrictions on what value p can take, so it’s safe to say she’s implying that p can be any real number higher than or lower than 1, aka any real number except maybe 1. Now, the zeta function doesn’t actually have that domain, but we’ll get to that.

For now, let’s analyze her statements assuming p is any real number other than 1. Let’s take a look at the first one. 

Statement 1: If p is higher than 1, then ζ(p) is a whole number; a number without decimals. 

This is wrong. Just so we’re clear, I could probably prove, with my somewhat limited math knowledge, that this statement can only work if the domain is more restrictive than “all real numbers other than 1” as described previously. It'd have to be defined only in whole numbers, for example.

However, I don’t need to. One of the first lines in the Wikipedia page of the zeta function says that ζ(3) (which is the value you get after “adding all your characters” when p = 3) is an irrational number. That is, among other properties, a number with infinite decimals. Eva could not be more wrong if she tried. 

(Btw, yes I'm using Wikipedia as my only source. Not particularly rigorous research on my part, but this is a silly Tumblr post about funny killing game, there's a limit to my insanity)

I don’t even know how this happened, btw. It’s pretty clear this is a goof on the devs’ side (perfectly understandable btw, it took me several reads of the Wikipedia pages for both the zeta function and the Riemann hypothesis to even get them enough to write this post, and as stated I study a lot of math for my career), but I genuinely don’t know where they got the idea from. There’s nothing I could find about whole numbers in relation to the zeta function. There’s connections to prime numbers, which are all whole, but the series doesn't converge to them, the connection is a bit weirder than that. There's also some stuff Euler found about it converging to rational numbers for negative integers, but again, not whole numbers, and not even for real values above 1. So, yeah, no clue.

Anyways, what about the other statement?

Statement 2: If p is lower than 1, then you get 0, “an infinite amount of zeroes.”

This is also obviously wrong. In fact, reader! Can you think of a counterexample which is immediately obvious if you think about it for two seconds? A real number p lower than 1 such that ζ(p) isn't 0?

If you said “zero, because zero always breaks everything in very obvious ways,” you have good intuition! You could have also picked any other real number lower than 1, but those are less obvious.

For 0, the reason it’s so apparent is that any number raised to the power of zero is just 1, so 1 + 1/2ˆ0 + 1/3ˆ0 + … just turns into 1 + 1 + 1 + … and so on for infinity. Very obviously, the series diverges, it “goes to infinity.” This is very different from converging to 0.

And just so we’re clear, the series also diverges for any real value of p lower than 1, though I’ll leave proving that one as an exercise to the reader, with the help that I’ll tell you the infinite series 1 + ½ + ⅓ + ¼ + … also goes to infinity. Again, Eva could not be more wrong if she tried. 

So, what went wrong here? Turns out, the way Eva defined the zeta function as an infinite series (a "sum of infinite numbers”) only works when p is a complex number with a real component higher than 1. That’s why it was important for her to say what dice we were rolling to determine p, what the domain of the function defined by the series is. For other numbers, you need to define zeta in different ways.

And what happened to the whole “infinite zeroes” thing? Well, you see, I have a theory. I think the devs must have read that the zeta function had “an infinite amount of zeroes for values of p with a real component lower than 1” (which is true, but doesn’t mean what they think it means), and misinterpreted from there. Fair mistake. I kinda wanna correct it using the TTG analogy, but I’ll leave that for the end of the post because it’s gonna derail the entire thing.

(I got carried away and explained everything I understood about the Riemann zeta function oops)

What you need to know for now; you can do some math tricks to define the zeta function outside of the infinite series Eva described, though a lot of those tricks are way above my pay grade. That way, you can evaluate the function for any complex value of p other than 1. In other words, you can roll different die for p, but it requires redefining what you're doing with that p.

Turns out, in doing that, some funky shit happens, and any time p equals -2n for any n which is a natural number (that is, p = -2 or -4 or -6 or -8, etc.), the zeta function will go to zero. Those values of p are known as the “trivial zeroes” of the function, and are obviously infinite in number. However, note that these trivial zeroes are exclusively negative even integers; there are plenty of real values of p lower than 1 for which the zeta function is not zero, so Eva still isn’t correct at all.

Though, to be clear, there are also zeroes of the function other than the trivial ones. This is actually where the Riemann hypothesis comes in. The hypothesis is that any non-trivial zero of the zeta function has a real component of exactly ½, with the only difference between them being the imaginary component (if you didn't follow, again, more detailed explanation at the bottom of the post). This (in our world) has not been definitively proven to work for every non-trivial zero, though it does work for the first several trillion. 

Absurdly nerdy math rant over

So TL;DR, Eva made some pretty big mistakes when talking about the convergence of the zeta function, mainly stemming from not properly defining its domain, but also just straight up getting the convergence wrong. It doesn’t converge exclusively to whole numbers for real numbers above 1, and has to be defined in a different way for real values below 1, not to mention that she never brings up the full function is actually defined for complex numbers other than 1. 

Obviously, this all likely stems from the creators not actually understanding the zeta function themselves, which is pretty funny.

But you wanna know what the bigger issue is? That even if Eva had properly explained the zeta function, her paper would still suck ass. Because there’s a much bigger, more fundamental issue with the very thesis it upholds.

I want you to take a step back. Really look past the complex math and weird terms and the contrast between the very serious sounding Riemann zeta function and the somewhat silly concept of a TTG… 

And realize that the thesis of the paper Eva describes is “analogies exist.”

She can frame it however she likes, but ultimately, that’s what the point of the paper was. Eva, where the hell did you even get this published? In fact, I think it’s silly for you to say that it’d have been better received if your talent was different, because without it, I don’t see a world where this shit could even be submitted to any journal with even a modicum of self respect!

And look, she’s not wrong. I get her point, that mathematicians often don’t put in enough effort to communicate their work to the layman, and would benefit from explaining things in more creative ways. That’s cool. But that’s the kind of thing you would write for, like, an article or something.

But a paper is specifically meant for research. Calling this thing a paper almost feels insulting to mathematicians. Like the concept of using analogies to explain math is an unprecedented discovery that required actual research to figure out. Unless this paper was also the one where Eva solved the Riemann hypothesis (which God I hope that was a different paper), there's no new information being presented here. It's at best a personal opinion piece, which is not what scientific papers are for. 

Am I silly for getting hung up on the wording of this being described as a paper instead of an article or opinion piece or whatever? Well, this entire post is silly, but I don't think it's because of that, because words mean things. And a scientific paper carries certain connotations that do not align with what Eva describes.

And this little issue casts doubt in her general skill as a paper writer. That's why I'm a bit skeptical about the paper she mentions about the "theoretical possibility of lightspeed travel.” Because, quite frankly, that paper topic sounds… meaningless? Like a bunch of technobabble?

Like, what exactly are you discussing about lightspeed travel? In fact, what are you actually referring to when you say "lightspeed travel"? Matter approaching lightspeed, or reaching or even exceeding lightspeed? The latter two are impossible according to current scientific consensus, btw. Or is she discussing a particular trick to get something from point A to point B in less time than it would take for light to cover that distance? There are papers discussing stuff like that, even if all the mechanisms are also thought to be impossible by consensus. And regardless of what she means by "lightspeed travel", what does she mean "theoretical possibility” of it? Like, genuinely, I have no clue. Is she speculating on whether or not it's possible? Is she speculating on the properties such travel would have? Is she proposing a theoretical method to do it? Is she doing something else entirely? The premise of the paper is too vague, is my point. 

This worries me because… well, to put it bluntly, experts in related fields (such as mathematics) attempting to make cool sounding physics theories (such as a paper on the "theoretical possibility of lightspeed travel", whatever that means) which are completely wrong and nonsensical is a real, observable phenomenon in our world. Check out Angela Collier's "physics crackpots: a 'theory’” to find out more. And also check out the rest of her youtube channel it's great.

What Eva is doing with that paper honestly sounds remarkably close to what Angela describes there. In fact, let's check out whether or not Eva's hypothetical paper fits any of the four points Angela brings up to spot a crackpot theory.

1. “Addresses THE BIGGEST PROBLEMS in physics.”

By this, Angela means that the theory addresses a problem or topic that anyone with a passing interest in physics knows is a big deal. Things like dark matter, gravity, black holes, and yes, "lightspeed travel.” You're not going to see anyone with a crackpot theory on the equation of state of real gases or Eddy currents, because by the point you know what those things are in enough depth to be interested in them, you probably also know enough to determine what a good physics theory is and what isn't. Eva's paper fits this point, but that doesn't necessarily mean Eva is a crackpot physicist, right? 

2 and 4. “Lacking mathematical rigor, experimental data, etc.” and “They are not physics theories”

I grouped these two because it's impossible for me to know whether Eva's paper would actually fit these points or not. She doesn't give enough details for me to say. I can tell you for sure it's not gonna have experimental data, but since it's theoretical physics, that's fine. So, we can maybe give her the benefit of the doubt? As long as she doesn't fit the last point too well maybe-

3. “Respond with anger, claim physics establishment has blacklisted them, cite Galileo/Einstein/etc."

Oh no. 

Eva [1st FTE]: I could write a research paper on the theoretical possibility of lightspeed travel, but no one would care…

Oh no chat. She might actually be a crackpot physicist. 

It doesn't help that her mentality in general is actually very in line with the mentality described in the Angela video mentioned above. That because she's a smart person (which she is; again, solved the damn Riemann hypothesis), she should be able to easily become recognized and respectable in any field she takes interest in. But that isn't how the world works. There's a reason people spend years of their life studying literature, physics, or mathematics, just to truly get a grasp of each discipline individually. 

Ok, but, like, what's my point? Am I going to include her misunderstanding of the zeta function and the possibility of her being a "crackpot physicist” in any character analysis? No, of course not. You're very clearly meant to think Eva is genuinely skilled in every field she approaches, because this is a fangan and Ultimates can bend the limits of humanity to fit a narrative. I'm perfectly willing to accept that Eva solved the Riemann hypothesis, as you've seen throughout this post, even though I'd be highly skeptical of anyone making that same claim in the real world, "Ultimate” or not. The same way I'd accept that a fictional character of any kind could manage to accelerate a particle to exactly lightspeed, even though I'd immediately call bullshit if someone claimed to do it in real life. The standard for believability is different for fictional characters than real people, basically.

Really, when you boil it down, I only take issue with the things Eva says because I'm genuinely passionate about the topics she mentions, and because she gives enough details about her work for me to see the cracks in the writers’ knowledge of them. I'm assuming this is a common issue with any fangan that tries to really explain what being an "Ultimate” in a particular field entails, because no one is actually well versed enough in sixteen different talents to actually say that for sure. That's why Eva off-handedly mentioning that she solved the Riemann hypothesis is much more effective as a way to establish her skill than trying and failing to get her to actually explain the zeta function. 

All in all, this is just a purely self-indulgent post for me to vent about issues I have with the way the writers tried to convey Eva's expertise. Feel free to completely ignore this for character analysis, because I sure will. I just needed to talk about it because I would explode if I didn't. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! If you made it this far, you deserve a function named specifically after you! See y-!

Oh right I almost forgot.

My Own Explanation of the Riemann Zeta Function Using the TTG Analogy

(Explained by someone with little more than Wikipedia access, take all this with a grain of salt)

Think of finding the zeroes of a function as a boss fight. You go up to them, and you cast a spell, generally in the form of a number, such that the function becomes zero when you cast it. For example, the Easy Function

f(x) = 2x - 6

can be defeated by casting “3”, since 2x3 - 6 = 0. 

Every function also has a “domain”, which is a set of spells you can actually cast against it. For example, since 1/0 is undefined, the Medium Function g(x) = 1/x has a domain of all complex numbers except 0. Casting 0 against g has no effect. You need a special spell, “limit when x tends to infinity” (or negative infinity) to defeat it.

The zeta function is a Legendary Boss, defined by the infinite series ζ(s) = 1 + 1/2^s +1/3^s + … 

(I changed p to s for a reason trust the process)

Many mathematicians had tried to defeat it before, but it seemed futile*. Its domain was thought to be all real numbers higher than 1 (they originally didn't think to use complex numbers against it), but no matter what number was picked, that first term was too powerful. Even casting “limit when s tends to infinity” only got zeta down to 1. Nothing in its domain seemed to work.

Until Riemann arrived. 

The zeta function chuckled, thinking this one to be like all the many others before him. But the legendary mage Riemann had many a trick the zeta function hadn't seen before. Tricks to make make the domain of the function larger, so that new Number Spells could be cast against it. Where everyone else had only ever attempted to cast real numbers against this boss, he wouldn't be satisfied with that. Without warning, he cast the first of many powerful spells needed to do what needed to be done.

"Domain Expansion; Proof of Complexity"

Since you already knew this part, I'll skip the proof, but basically, Reimann quickly showed that the infinite series which defined the zeta function for real numbers higher than one actually worked for any complex number with a real component higher than one.

The zeta function was impressed, but unconcerned. It knew damn well there was still no spell in this new domain which could possibly defeat it. "Nice try, but I'm not scared of some imaginary unit” it claimed. 

“I'm aware,” claimed Reimann. He raised his hands again, his mana swelling, and the zeta function frowned. “But you're mistaken if you think this is the end.”

Reimann looked at the Legendary Boss in front of him, and cast the following, powerful incantation, with the help of the runes described below. 

"Domain Expansion; Analytic Continuation"

To truly defeat the zeta function, one must understand the concept of an analytic continuation. This is where I falter, for I myself don’t understand what the fuck that is. However, what I've been able to gather is that the function 

𝜂(s) / (1 - 2/2ˆs) where 𝜂(s) = 1/1ˆs - 1/2ˆs + 1/3ˆs - …

is equal to the zeta function in the zeta function's domain, but is also defined outside of it. In particular, it's defined for any complex number with a positive real component, except for the points where

1 - 2/2ˆs = 0

(can't be dividing by zero after all!). That last thing excludes 1, for example.

Basically, think of the spell "Domain Expansion; Analytical Continuation” as a shapeshifting spell that transforms the zeta function from the previous definition:

ζ(s) = 1 + 1/2ˆs + 1/3ˆs + … for s complex numbers with a real component higher than 1.

to now being defined as:

ζ(s) = 𝜂(s) / (1 - 2/2ˆs) for the previously described new domain.

That way, its domain is expanded to include complex numbers with a real component between 0 and 1, aside from those where 2/2ˆs = 1.

But of course, Reimann wouldn't be satisfied with that. The next spell was simpler, but worthwhile nonetheless. 

"Domain Expansion; Limiting Singularity Removal"

See, turns out, all the points "z” where the analytic continuation was undefined, other than 1, where removable singularities (I think? I don't actually know much about complex functions :v), which means the spell "limit when s tends to z” returns a finite number l. That way, you can define ζ(z) = l for all of these removable singularities, expanding the domain of the zeta function to all complex numbers with a positive real component, other than 1.

Don't worry if you don’t know what a limit is or you didn't follow this part, it's not too important for this. After all, that last spell didn't worry the zeta function. What had truly taken it aback was the analytic continuation, which suddenly exposed a few weak spots of the zeta function to the world. Now, Reimann could defeat it once and for all, as long as he found the right spell in the new domain. 

However, the zeta function was a Legendary Boss for a reason. "Fancy tricks, but it won't be easy to find something to actually defeat me, you know,” it bluffed, hoping intimidation would work. Foolish hope.

"Oh, certainly,” Reimann agreed readily, smiling. The zeta function was confused for a moment, until it realized something horrifying. 

Reimann's mana was swelling again. He wasn't done. And for the first time since it's run-in with Euler all those years back, the zeta function felt true fear.

“It won't just be easy,” Reimann smirked. “It will be trivial.”

"Domain Expansion; Functional Equation"

This is another point where the math is beyond me, but I'll try to explain. Basically, Reimann proved that that equality up there holds true as long as s is a complex number with a real component strictly higher than 0 and strictly lower than 1.

However, you'll notice that if you take s as a complex number with a real component equal to or lower than 0 (other than 0 itself), then the right side of the equation is actually well defined, because 1 - s is a complex number with a positive real component (and not equal to 1 unless s is exactly 0), meaning ζ(1 - s) is well defined. You also don't run into issues with any of the other factors of that equation, including the Gamma function (𝚪). What that means is that this equation can be used to extend the zeta function's domain to all complex numbers other than 0 and 1. 

Think of this domain expansion as a shapeshifting curse. If you cast a complex number with a real component strictly higher than 0 (other than 1), then the zeta function defends by turning into either the analytic continuation from before:

ζ(s) = 𝜂(s) / (1 - 2/2ˆs)

or the limit for any values where 1 - 2/2ˆs.

Meanwhile, if you cast a number s with a real component equal to or lower than 0 (other than 0 itself), then the zeta function shapeshifts to be:

ζ(s) = 2ˆs 𝜋ˆ(s-1) sin(s𝜋/2) 𝚪(1-s) ζ(1-s)

The final step is yet another Domain Expansion; Limiting Singularity Removal on 0, where ζ(0) = -½. Again not really important for us. 

In any case, Riemann had done it. Five consecutive domain expansions, so that the zeta function's domain now included all complex numbers except 1. The zeta function was on its last legs, all that was needed was the final touch. For the inexperienced, you might think finding a zero would still be difficult, but the truly expert mages among you might have already noticed the weak spot in the functional equation. 

The sine function. A Common Enemy which goes to 0 whenever it's attacked by a whole number equipped with the Legendary Tier item 𝜋. And when a complex number with a negative real component is cast against the zeta function, sin(s𝜋/2) becomes one of the factors.

"You know what this means, don't you, zeta?” Riemann asked. And the zeta function couldn't muster a response before the legendary mage cast his final spell. "You lose.”

"Simple Spell; Negative Even Integer"

-2, -4, -8, etc. Any even integer s causes s/2 to be a whole number, so sin(s𝜋/2) goes to zero. And since it's multiplying everything else, the entire zeta function goes to zero. These negative even integers are known as the zeta function's "trivial zeroes", and because there are infinite negative even integers, it can be said that the zeta function has an infinite amount of zeroes.

However, just because the Riemann zeta function had been defeated, doesn't mean Reimann was satisfied. See, Riemann noticed that there were other values which could defeat the zeta function, and weren't negative even integers. These are the zeta function's non-trivial zeroes. And he noticed that all of these zeroes followed a pattern, so he tried to cast a Prophecy Spell.

A Prophecy Spell (or a theorem, in real math terms) is one that makes it so that, when certain conditions are met, something happens without fail. To cast a Prophecy Spell, you must prove it, which means using other prophecy spells, runes and unbreakable laws (axioms) to certify that it's a valid prophecy. 

I'll give you an example in case you're not used to the concept of mathematical proof, and cast the Prophecy Spell “if b is a real number, then b0 = 0". To prove it, I'll use two axioms (these are the building blocks of mathematics, and don't need to be proven because they just Are).

1) 0 + c = c (0 is neutral to addition).

2) b(c + d) = bc + bd (Distributive Property)

Now, observe the following:

1) b(c + 0) = b(c + 0) [Trivially true.]

2) bc = bc + b0 [0's neutrality used on the left, distributive on the right]

3) 0 = b0 [Because bc = bc, you can nullify the terms]

I chose this because it happens to be the reason you can't divide by 0. Division is formally defined as multiplication with the reciprocal, so to divide by 0 you must first define its reciprocal 1/0. 1/0 would be defined as a number such that 0 x 1/0 = 1. But we just proved there's no real (or complex) number for which that can be true, so 1/0 isn't a number, thus is undefined.

In any case, now you know what's needed to cast a Prophecy Spell. However, Riemann couldn't finish the Prophecy spell about the non-trivial zeroes. He couldn't find proof or a counterexample to refute it. And so, his unfinished Prophecy Spell went down in history… as the Riemann Hypothesis.

“All non-trivial zeroes of the Riemann zeta function have a real component of exactly ½.”

Although it's been proven to hold true for trillions of non-trivial zeroes, it has never been properly proven or refuted, so the Riemann Hypothesis remains… unsolved. 

God that was nerdy and cringy as hell. It was also super fun to write so I don't care :D 

*Look, for the purpose of the post, I'm saying Riemann did all this shit and is the first one to find a value for which the zeta function becomes zero. This is likely not historically accurate. I'm just doing it so the explanation flows better. This should only be taken as an explanation of the function itself, and not the history behind it.

[ethofangorl]

Hermitcraft/life series incorrect quotes

Scot: Can I have some water?  Joel: *starts chugging their water bottle*  Joel: *chokes from drinking too fast*  Joel: *spills water all over themself*  Joel, coughing: I don't have any water.

Scar: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL-  Cleo: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

Grian: Act natural.  Mumbo: For this kind of situation, the most natural thing would be to panic, so technically I can panic.  Grian: NO, that’s not what I meant! Act like it’s a normal day!  Mumbo: My ‘normal’ days of late, consist of a lot of panic.  Grian: Will you just cooperate?  Mumbo: When a person is panicking, they are not apt to cooperate very well!

Grian: You really believe in Joel?  Lizzie: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us

Scar: You should see Grian, he’s a total tsundere. Isn’t he just the best? Gem: He stabbed you.

Scar, throwing their head into Grian's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!  Grian, lovingly stroking their hair:You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are

Cleo: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Doc: I apologize for saying 'fuck' in front of Gem.  Ren: You just said it again.  Gem: Doc: I am not a role model.

Lifers reactions to being called straight:  Joel: The fuck, no I'm not.  Ren: Excuse the hell out of you?  Scar: Ding dong, you are wrong!  Martyn: Who told you that? And why did they lie?  Grian: Rude.  Cleo: *punches the person*

Grian: Scar... you've been cuddling with me for over and hour now.  Scar: *muffled* mm hmmm :)  Grian: Fuck. I should be annoyed but you're adorable.

Joel: Bitch.  Bdubs: Blocked.  Joel: Wait unblock me I need to tell you something.  Bdubs: Unblocked.  Joel: Bitch.

Scot: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!  Martyn: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

Ren To Mumbo: Wow, left handed AND British? You really are an illusion.

Gem: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying.  Joel: And?  Gem: And you are.

Grian: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun

Grian: The best way to gain someone's undying loyalty is by saving them from a perilous situation.  Scot: So you're just gonna wait until Scar is in danger and save them?  Grian: Of course not, I'm going to create a situation that puts them in danger and then save them.  Scot: ...  Scot: You're insane.

Grian: The time to act is now.  Scar: Wink, wink.  Grian: Don't say "wink wink". Just wink.  Scar: Oh, sorry.  Scar: Wink.

*lifers at a family dinner*  Pearl: Can you pass the salt?  Scot: *throws Joel across the table*

Tango: Did you buy eggs like I asked?  Jimmy: Even better!  Tango: What the fuck did you-  Jimmy: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy Tango: She’s… beautiful!

Skizz: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it?  Joel: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?”  Skizz, scoffing: Oh, please.  Joel, to Jimmy: Hey, how you doin’?  Jimmy: jimmy: *giggles and blushes*

Joel, driving in his car with the other winners and singing to the Little Einsteins theme song: We’re going on a trip-  Martyn: In our favorite piece of shit!  Grian: Doing 95!  Scot: We’re gonna fucking die!

Scar: The clock is ticking! We don't have time for this asinine tomfoolery!  Impulse: This unmitigated poppycock?  Gem: Extravagant hogwash!  Grian and Mumbo: Okay, stop.

[alkhemeya]

The Magnus Archives, Episode 2 — 5. Thoughts.

Statement Begins.

I have nothing to do, so speedrun it is. I will put this in sections, because yes.

Episode 2 — Do Not Open.

1. Joshua Gillepsie, you drug man, I adore you. Why is he so smart??? Like, deadass would survive a horror movie. Such an unbothered king too.

1.5. Joshua seems to have like, that thing where you can't remember faces with how he describes that random man who gave him the money, and coffin (why was the guy called John??? Like, that's such a basic name). He may have been high as shit though. Which, yeah, I'd put it to rambling too, Sims.

1.6. Yes, I've decided to call John/Jon, Sims, until further notice. I can't decide on the name rn.

2. Zombies??? Does the coffin have Zombies??? ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN OT ONLY MAKES SOUKD WHEN IT RAINS???

3. Putting Breekon and Hope on the list for references. Same with names. I have a feeling ill see these names again.

4. What the fuck do you mean Joshua lives alone for 2 years??? HUHH?

Episode 3 — Across The Street.

1. GRAHAM GOT SNATCHED BY A BODY SNATXHDR ALIEN THING! Like the, fucking uh, Pod People! Yes!

1.5. Or Graham is me. I too also eat my notebook paper when stressed. And paranoid. And seemingly become some weird slenderman alien thing. That is normal.

2. The poor girl definitely witnessed Graham get snatched in a way. And those words? Oh, she is next to get fucking abducted.

3. The end statement implies that Graham was aware he was gonna get snatched considering his notebook. Also, doesn't seem to affect Polaroids? Maybe old tech? Though Polaroids aren't really old. Hmmm.

4. Note on Sims, I still love him. He's such a theatre nerd. Tim seems suspicious still to me, though, a flirt? I mean, if it's for information, respect.

Episode 4 — Pageturner.

1. Magic books??? Oh shit? Or like, midn control?? Also, who the fuck is Jurgen Leitjner??

2. Jurgen Leitner was a librarian?? Collector of sorts. Did he collect magic books? Also, Ex Altora. Like that name, spooky.

3. Another name to remember, Mary Keay. And her skin is all tattooed. Once again, keep a note on that. Will probably post a lost of people so I can keep track. Also, she has a son? Child? Gerard, but why is it said like Jared???

3.5. BONE BOOK? MORE MAGIC BOOKS? HELL YEAH SIGN ME UP. I'd love a book that gives me bones. Also, more about spooky Ex Altora book, there's two from the looks of it.

4. Michael Crew? Guys best friend, has a lightning scar. Didn't know those can scar over, and even in a visible way. Is he connected to the Ex Altora?? Guy was reminded of him.

5. Gérard is apparently shit at dying his hair (because if someone knows you've dyed it black on site that's a shit job) and just looks bad. I don't know why that's it's own note. I just think it's funny.

5.5. WHAT THE FUXK DO YOU MEAN MARY KEAY IS DEAD??? BODY SNATCHER? AHAIN? OH SHIT. WAIT, is Gérard an alien??? Oh fuck.

6. Gérard burnt the book. The guy seems to have gotten better, but what just happened??? Also, my phone keeps autocorrecting Gerard to Gérard. Sorry about that.

6.5. Really don't like that end quote. What do you mean your mother "doesn't always know vest for our family"??? SIR APPARENTLY YOUR MOTHER DIED BUT SHES ALSO ALIVE???

7. Sims! And apparently Jurgen Leitner is a bitch. And what does Sims mean about a true Leinter tome?? Maybe Sims is a believer in the stuff that can be shown as real?

Episode 5 — Thrown Away.

1. Doll heads? Kinda freaky. Love how this is from a binman pov. Those guys see some shit.

2. Paper? Catholic prayer too. Wild. Alan is weird. Why does he give weird vibes? Or am I just over thinking?

3. TEETH?? WHY IS THERE SO MANY TEETJ? LIEK, THOSUSANSS??? Okay, Alan's just weird, real. Also, STILL HUNG UP ON THE TEETH. WHERE DO HOU GET SO MANY??

3.5. Okay, police took the teeth. Maybe it's a serial killer? Or some doctor? I'm pretty sure some places, like dentists, have bags they put teeth in. I think.

4. Alan is going a bit mad. Once again, real. I too wanna know where the TEETH came from. And he got fired.

4.5. ALAN FOUND WHO HAD THE TEETH? AAAAND he's dead. I'm calling it. They'll find his bones and like, no meat. Just bones.

5. Not the rubbish bag that's made up like a present. That's just ominous.

5.5 Metal... heart? Did... did Alan get turned into metal?? WHY DOES IT HAVE HIS NAME. WHERE IS HE???

6. Sims! Again! Wow, he does not like Martin. Poor guy.

6.6 WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE TEETH WERE ALL TEH SAME??? IS IT POD PEOPLE? YHE THING?? WHY SO MANY OF THE SAME TOOTH???

Anyways. Love the end statements and how Sims does the voice over. Love it.

If I were to describe Sims in my head, it'd be:

- lanky and above average height (5"7)

- Albino, specifically, with more pinkish eyes then red. And very long shaggy white hair, like... uh... medium length and in a braid, like a French braid. You know the style. Can't explain it, just vibes.

- He also wears sunglasses, since, you know, albino. And needs to rake vitamins daily.

- definitely wears red and brown. Like, brown trousers, brown shoes, red turtle neck jumper with a brown suit jacket that matches the trousers.

- walks weirdly. And horrible posture.

That's Sims in my head, for some reason.

Anyways, final thoughts are... uh...

Definitely some weird paranormal shit is happening. Not sure about the books though, wild shit.

Statement ends.

[anniebeckcalla]

:sucker punch!: [mark lee x reader]

non-idol au. wc: 2.1k. cw: fighting, mentions of blood and wounds, cliché, fluff, mild violence, y/n overreacting and then making it all about her straight after, suggestive tones

“Looking good, girl!” Winter grinned as she raised the lipstick in her poised hand, finished with working on your face. “Just rub that lippy in your cheeks a little more- yep, just like that- there we go! Sorry that I didn't have any blush.” You peered at yourself in the dingy bathroom mirror. A large crack in the middle distorted your image a little, but otherwise you looked absolutely dazzling. You enveloped your friend in a hug, your huge fur coat making her disappear entirely. “You made me look beautiful! Thanks, babe!” “Eurgh, get off, y/n! You and your fur coats!” Winter pushed you away, picking bits of synthetic fur off her tongue. “Mark's definitely going to ask you to be his girlfriend tonight, he'd be mad not to.” She giggled as you looked down at the floor shyly.

You had been ‘talking’ to your college classmate, Mark Lee, for the past month. Putting it truthfully, ‘talking’ wasn't the word to describe it- you had spent many late nights venting on the phone to each other, revised at each other's dorms,bought each other things, and done a lot more than an innocent hug. Your best friend, Winter, had tried endlessly to get you to ask him to become official, but you were scared of rejection, and wanted Mark to ask instead. Tonight, as you two got ready in the nightclub toilets, you were determined that this would be the time that Mark would finally ask you out. You couldn't wait.

“Is he here yet?” You sprayed a liberal amount of perfume on both you and Winter as she scrolled on her phone. Winter tucked a strand of her cropped hair behind her ear with an encrusted nail. “Yes, he's here. He says he's at the front by the bar.” You frowned as you pulled your own phone out of your Brandy Melville handbag. “That's funny,” you said. “Mark hasn’t texted me anything. Come to think of it, he hasn't answered any of my calls since morning.” You placed your phone back in your bag, your hands trembling. Winter noticed. “Calm down, babe,” she soothed, stroking your back. “You know how silly boys can be sometimes. He could have forgotten.” You chewed your nail. “But he responds to my messages within seconds, Winter. What if he doesn't like me anymore?” Winter held both of your hands, gazing into your eyes. “Listen, y/n, tonight isn't about ‘what ifs’. Tonight is about you and Mark getting together. So, let's go and see him. Okay?” You smiled tightly, your heart beating fast with nerves. Winter pulled you into a hug. “Everything's going to work out better than you ever imagined,” she whispered.

The nightclub atmosphere was already in full swing. The floor and walls vibrated with the thrum of the loud music from the speakers, people's heads bobbed up and down as they held their cups full of intoxicated liquids, and the floor was littered with glitter. streamers, and discarded drink cartons. You and Winter budged past the party goers as you made your way to the front of the building, ignoring the catcallers and tugs at your coat, but your heart went into overdrive when Winter raised her hand and gestured the middle finger. “I think I can see him,” she laughed affectionately. “Yes, there he is, the stupid boy.” You hurriedly bustled in your bag as you looked for your pocket mirror for a last look at your face. You glanced up…

…and stopped dead in your tracks.

There, standing by the bar, was Mark, his back to you as another girl's hands ran over his back and waist. His own hands were on either side of the girl's head, his hair tousled from all the fun he was having.

“MARK LEE!” You were surprised that the scream had even come from you. The entire club went silent, even the speakers. Mark turned around, and he raised his hands in a defensive stance. “Uh, y/n, I can explain…” Your gaze fell on the girl that he had been locking lips with, and the scale of your anger raised several notches. It was Karina Yu, your supposed ‘friend’ who was meant to be out of town for the weekend. She shrugged, widening her eyes. “Don't look at me!” she snapped. “You're right, I shouldn't look at your filthy face,” you breathed. You turned back to Mark. “My friend, of all the people you could have cheated on me with?” You yelled. Mark backed away from you. “Can we talk about this in a private place?” he said. You scoffed. “Oh, please. You were getting it on with my friend in public, so I don't think you should have any objection to talking this through right here.” There were a few laughs in the crowd, and you heard a man saying “Ouch!”

“Y/n, please don't,” Winter whispered, tugging your coat sleeve. You shook her off, maintaining eye contact with Mark. “I must say, Mark, I'm really disappointed. I'll say it here- I love you. I was hoping that you loved me too, but I can obviously see that I was just a quick fumble to you!”

The crowd laughed as Mark frowned, visibly stung. “Yo, I'm sure we can figure something out. I don't know how I can explain this, but it's not what it looks like, dude-”

“DUDE?” you screeched. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? I DRESSED UP TO MEET YOU, I'VE JUST CONFESSED AND TO YOU, AND I’M JUST YOUR DUDE?” Enraged, you grabbed a glass of WKD off the bartop and threw the contents at Mark's face. Everyone cheered. “What the fuck, you madwoman?” Mark shouted. He soon regretted it. Without hesitation, you delivered a neat uppercut to Mark's jaw, sending him to the ground. You leapt atop of him and brought the glass down upon his face repeatedly. All you could hear was the ring of fury and wrath, drowning out everything else.

“Alright, that's enough,” the barman yelled, wrestling you off, much to the disappointment of the crowd. Mark was helped up by Karina and Winter. Now that your anger was ebbing away, you were dismayed to see the blood streaming down his face from a large gash through his eyebrow as his head lolled.

You looked at Winter, but she backed away from you as best as she possibly could. “Too far, y/n,” she said, frowning. Karina glared at you so hard that if looks could kill, you would have fallen onto the floor in your fur coat. “Get this lot out of my club,” the barman shouted. “They're lowering the tone of the evening.” Before you could protest, you four were shoved out through the back doors by the burly bouncers. “You're banned,” the barman called out as you were wedged through the narrow frame. The door to the nightclub slammed loudly, and you were sure that you could hear the click of a lock being bolted.

It was freezing outside. You were ankle deep in food waste and carboard boxes from the overflowing bins. The only source of light was a security camera from the opposite takeaway, flooding you all in a white gleam. You looked down at your trembling hands to see that they were covered in bleeding wounds. “I'm sorry,” you whimpered, to nobody in particular. Mark let out a jeering laugh, but Winter budged him. “Now isn't the time, Mark.” You looked from Winter's guilty scowl, to Mark's bleeding face, to Karina's bored gaze.

“Wait…”

“We have something to explain to you,” Winter said. “Don't be mad, y/n!”

.✿°

You all sat around a yellow plastic table in the 24 hour convenience store. With supplies from the store, your knuckles were bandaged and Mark's forehead was adorned with small plasters to hold together the cut that ran through his eyebrow. Not much could be done about the darkening bruises he sported on his jaw and lip. You knew it wasn't the time, but you had to admit to yourself that the scars made him look very badass. [c/n: i don't like using that word but I had no other option sorry]

Winter stirred the blue slushie that she cradled in her hand. “It were me and Karina who came up with the idea to make you jealous,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on her dessert. Karina scowled. “Um, no, Winter! It was you who suggested it! You said that if y/n was upset or jealous, then she would finally ask Mark to be her boyfriend.” Winter rolled her eyes. “And who agreed to it and said it was a good idea? That's right, you and Mark.”

Karina threw her hands up. “Alright, it doesn't matter who made the plan, or who betted, or whatever. All that matters is that we took part. Mark called us because he thought that you would reject him if he asked you to be his girlfriend. We decided to get Mark to pretend to kiss me in the bar so that we could judge your reaction to find out if you still had feelings for him or not. We decided that if you were upset, or jealous, then Mark would ask the question. If you weren't upset, then Mark would have just moved onto someone else. That's why Winter kept you alone all day with her, and flipped Mark off in the bar to give him the signal to pretend to make out with me.”

“Is that why you weren't responding to my calls all day?” You turned to Mark, who scratched an imaginary spot on the table. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It was part of the plan.” You looked around at the three of them. “You lot aren't very good at matchmaking, are you?” you snapped. Karina laughed. “Says you. I was absolutely terrified when you were going at Mark's face with that glass! I thought you were going to send him over to the other side!” Winter nodded in agreement. “We had no idea you were going to react like that,” she said. “We thought that you were going to be a little bit upset, but not anything too wild.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, your eyes full of tears. “Can we all just start again? I've been a fool tonight and I-I really don't want to lose you guys."

“I think that you and Mark need to talk,” Karina replied. She pulled Winter's arm. “Alone.”

When the girls were out of the store, you let the tears fall down your cheeks. Mark took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together.“Y/n,” he said, “is it true, what you said in the nightclub?” You wiped your face with the back of your free hand. “I said a lot of things I didn't mean in there, Mark,” you sniffed, eyes facing the table. “You know what I'm referring to,” Mark said gently. “When you said that you…you loved me, did you mean it?” You finally looked up at his bruised face, and regret for the evening's actions washed over you as you remembered everything that you two had already been through.

“Yes. I meant it. I still do. I have no idea why I acted like that…” Mark put his finger on your lips, shutting you off. “We're not talking about that anymore,” he whispered. “We're talking about what matters. All that matters is that you meant what you said, and that…well, that I feel the same way.” You smiled for the first time that night. “Really?” you exclaimed. Mark took your other hand. “Really, y/n. You know, I might as well take this moment to ask you to be my girlfriend.” You leaned across the table to hug Mark. “Of course I'm going to say yes! Oh, thank you so much!”

“Careful, my face's still bruised,” Mark said. You pulled away. “I know you said I shouldn't say anything about it, but I'm sorry,” you said. Mark shrugged, gently prodding his wounded eyebrow. "I guess I asked for it when i called you a madwoman. It's not all bad, though. I'm going to look so cool once this scar has healed.” With a smirk, he added, “It was nice to see just how powerful you can be when you're angry. You know, before the barman pulled you off me, part of me thought, I could get used to this!” “Stop making it weird!” you laughed. "I have one thing to ask, though."

"What?"

"Please don't call me 'dude' again."

"I'll think about it," Mark smiled, and you shoved him playfully.

As if by perfect timing, Karina and Winter walked back in the store. “All's well that ends well, I suppose,” Winter smiled when she saw your interlocked hands. Karina put her arm around Winter's shoulders. “To be fair, they'll have a good story to tell everyone when they're asked how they got together.”

You rather hoped that nobody would ask, in that case

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @mejaemin @pl4netx1a

[masterlist]

[chocobje]

Hi! Me and my best friend are huge fans of your au, however they don’t have tumblr and wanted to ask a question so!!

ok so, I’m not entirely sure what they mean, so I’ll just put here their exact words,

“So yk how they like determined if some twisteds r passive as opposed to all of them being aggressive what’s the deal with communicating like cus twisted glisten talks in canon so”

it’s alright if you can’t answer it, again I’m not sure what they really mean myself but hey I’m not very good with English so you possibly might.

First of all, I'm so happy you two love my AU! It means so much to hear people enjoying my silly ideas :"D

I hope I answered this right, but from what I understood your friend is saying how it's possible to communicate with the Twisted's who are at the 3rd Stage? I've actually thought about this beforehand, and none of the Twisted's at Stage 3 are able to talk, whether it's the passive or aggressive ones. Their throats and vocals chords built too much ichor that they can only really make grunts, whines, or just any incoherent noises.

Some may be passive, but they're not themselves anymore. Best way I can describe this is that 3rd Stage Twisteds are just animals, they rely solely on their instincts. Some are more aggressive, some go run and hide. Gardenview practically became a jungle full of these creatures.

I'm going to bring up Looey since he's the only passive Twisted I've showed. If Brightney goes near him, he won't attack unless she tries to harm him. If she tries to communicate, he won't understand a single thing because he lost the ability to properly think and behave from the ichor. Memories for 3rd Stage Twisteds and above are fuzzy and it gets worse the more they die.

Another thing I never brought up I think is that Twisted's can attack other Twisted's. There's a reason why Boxten and Poppy have died 4 times by now, and with that they became even stronger, but worse.

Hopefully this makes sense, I'm happy to answer any questions y'all have about the AU it gives me an excuse to yap as much as I can lol, I've thought a lot of things that differentiates it from the original canon of DW.

[bisexuallsokka]

would love to read about the college husbands for the wip game 🤍

here are 3.5k words of sokka being a TA and flirting with one of his students (zuko) and korra and her friends realizing that actually there may be more going on than meets the eye

Korra clears her throat. 

“This seat is taken,” the stranger says, glancing at the empty seat next to him at the end of the row and not looking at her. 

“Good for you,” she says. “You’re in the way.”

He rolls his eyes and barely moves his legs from where he is attempting to stretch them out as much as possible in the cramped lecture hall seats. Korra doesn’t apologize for stepping on his toes when she shuffles past him and he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. 

She puts a few seats between them and is fine with ignoring him, but Bolin turns to the stranger pretty soon after he and Asami find Korra and sit next to her.

“Hey, I know you!” he says brightly. “You were my older brother’s TA for his Shakespeare course last semester! He took me to one of your shows, you make a great Hamlet.”

Korra remembers Mako talking about that course, how he was excited to have another trans guy in his class, especially one who was a great TA and stage actor. Well, the dude is sure putting on a great performance of “miserable and caffeine deficient college student”.

Asami looks at him curiously. “Are you one of the TA’s for this class now?”

His shoulders tense and he lets out a sigh. “No. I’m just a student.”

“Aren’t you now like, what, a junior or senior?” Bolin asks. 

“Senior,” he answers tersely. “This is my final semester.”

Korra snorts and looks around. “Why are you in a class with a bunch of freshmen?” 

“Because my academic advisor is an idiot,” he snaps immediately, then takes a deep breath. “There was some miscommunication. Now I’m stuck here to make up the credit so I can graduate.”

“Hey guys! Welcome to class!”

Korra recognizes the newcomer from the email he sent the class a week before the semester started. Sokka, the head TA, looks about as friendly as his overuse of exclamation marks made him seem to be. He grins at them before dropping in the seat that the stranger had supposedly been saving. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, and Korra is willing to bet that he lied about it being taken so he wouldn’t be stuck sitting next to a freshman. 

“I see you’re all getting to know each other, that’s great! It’s awesome making friends on the first day of class. You never know what it’ll lead to.”

The stranger gives Sokka a weird look, outwardly expressing the confusion that Korra is feeling in regards to his cryptic statement, and Sokka just beams back at him. “I’m Sokka,” he introduces.

They introduce themselves and then Sokka looks expectantly at the stranger, who mumbles, “Zuko.”

“I hope you are all ready for the best semester ever,” he says, his voice so enthusiastic that Korra has to remember that this is Physics 101 and not a class that is, well, actually exciting. 

Zuko seems to slump even more in his chair with a slight sigh as Sokka starts to ramble about his love for the course and how he was hooked since day one when he took it as a freshman himself.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad!” Sokka says, noticing Zuko’s withering attitude. “At the very least, you have a gorgeous TA to stare at when I give lectures or review sessions or whatever. And I have the pleasure of having a beautiful face in the audience.”

Zuko clears his throat loudly, his face in a scowl, but his cheeks are slightly pink. “Is it professional for TA’s to flirt with their students? Maybe I should have a talk with Professor Piandao.” 

“Eh, Piandao isn’t about to fire me or anything. I’m his favorite student and TA of all time, and he’s the best professor and coolest guy Republic City University has ever had. He’s the kind of guy you’d invite to your wedding, you know?”

Korra frowns. Strange way to describe a professor, but Zuko doesn’t seem fazed by it. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says dryly. 

Korra was banking on the first day to consist of the boring standard run through of the syllabus, but within a few minutes she realizes Sokka was right about Piandao being a pretty cool guy. Sokka jumps up to help him set up his powerpoint, and together the two of them introduce themselves to the whole class and talk about the course. Sokka explains that he has been a TA for Piandao since he took this class his freshmen year, and while he moved on to TA for the 300 level courses, one of the TAs unexpectedly had to leave and Sokka took up this class again as a nice way to tie up the end of his college experience before he graduates at the end of the semester.

“There is no way I’d rather end my pursuit of a degree in physics than by helping you all learn the ins and outs for yourselves, so please, don’t hesitate to let me help you,” Sokka says kindly, and damn, Korra thought classes with professors and TAs like these two only existed in the movies. “I am here if you have any questions.”

Zuko, Korra quickly learns, has lots of questions.

The first few classes, he raises his hand the most out of anyone. He asks good questions, the kind that Korra usually wouldn’t think of asking until she was reading over her notes to try and figure out the homework. Sokka answers each one with a great deal of patience, and whenever they are given time to work on a practice question, Korra notices how Sokka tends to linger on the side of the room closest to Zuko. 

It’s almost cute: Sokka’s eyes drifting toward Zuko while Zuko scowls down at his paper where Bolin is gently pointing out a mistake he made, Sokka telling Zuko that he can go to his office hours for extra help -- his voice quiet enough for only Korra to hear -- , Zuko trying to hide his smile whenever Sokka is being particularly ridiculous that day. Some days it makes Korra want to gag, but she manages to control herself. Besides, they have a good system going on. Sokka had suggested they make study groups that first day, and Bolin invited Zuko to theirs. 

“The dorms are kinda small, but I could ask my roommate to give us the room and we can sit on the floor?” Bolin winced as the four of them lingered after class to hash out the details to meet before their first exam.

“I’d offer my place, but unfortunately my roommate is a huge distraction,” Zuko had said. “I can show you guys how to reserve the best study rooms in the library before they’re all gone.”

Zuko always sits in the same seat with the aisle one on his left open, and Korra continues to sit in the same row with Bolin and Asami. Bolin and Asami are naturals at physics, judging by their high grades and the way that Piandao and Sokka beam at the two of them when they answer questions. It works well for their group: Bolin and Asami help Zuko and Korra, Korra helps Asami with her statistics homework and Bolin with his history class, and Zuko gives them college tips from a seasoned student that actually turn out to be very useful.

Plus, watching Zuko interact with Sokka is free entertainment.

“Any questions?” Sokka asks at the end of his powerpoint.

The room is silent. Korra doesn’t entirely understand everything that the midterm review session just covered, but she’s not sure she knows where to begin asking questions, so she taps her pen against her notebook and waits for them to be dismissed so she can ask Asami to explain everything to her.

“Yes, Zuko?”

Or not.

She manages to not groan out loud, but not everyone in the room is as successful. They’ve witnessed this same scenario play out several times before: Zuko asking questions that push them to the very end of the class hour and losing them the extra ten minutes that Piandao had offered if there were no more questions. Korra glances at her phone to see that it’s almost 8pm, and she is starving.

Sokka ignores the complaining students and continues to smile at Zuko.

Zuko, sitting on Korra’s left today, puts his hand down and opens his mouth, then closes it, flips his notebook back a few pages, then sighs. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s not a question,” Sokka says sweetly.

“The practice problems in the textbook are completely different from what you just showed us.”

“Yes, well, science is often about learning formulas and knowing how to plug in different data.”

“But this one involved negatives. I thought I was getting it but those just make no sense.”

“I thought you were the expert at negatives, seeing you’re always correcting my use of double negatives,” Sokka says with a smirk.

“I don’t--” Zuko huffs. “I don’t correct you, I just enjoy pointing them out, you know my honors thesis is all about descriptivism in language…”

Korra glances between the two of them as Zuko continues ranting. She would remember hearing some dumbass conversation about double negatives in the middle of their physics work, and she feels like she’s missing something.

“Anyone else feel like we’re witnessing some weird kind of foreplay?” Asami mutters to her and Bolin. Bolin stifles his laughter, but her words have Korra’s mind spinning.

The rest of the class has had enough and has decided to start packing away their things, and Sokka tears his eyes away from Zuko to notice them.

“Zuko, I would love to discuss this with you some more,” Sokka says, interrupting him. “Everyone else, please email me if you have any more questions, I’ll be checking my inbox regularly so you don’t have to wait for a response! Good luck on the midterm!”

Zuko doesn’t move, his arms crossed across his chest as he impatiently waits for the class to clear. Korra gets up and follows Asami and Bolin out, but she throws one last look over her shoulder to see Sokka sliding into the seat next to Zuko with a soft smile that makes her pause.

…

“How did you all do on the midterm?” Zuko asks the day after the grades are posted online. He looks to be in a good mood, so Korra assumes he did well. She opens her mouth to respond, but then her eyes trail down to his neck and she finds another possible source for his good mood.

She tries to cover a laugh with a forced cough, but Zuko catches it and narrows his eyes.

“What?”

Asami takes pity on him. “You have a little something...” she gestures at her own neck with her hand. 

Zuko looks confused, but then his eyes widen and he slaps his hand over the assortment of hickeys on his neck. “Shit,” he hisses. 

“I have some makeup in my backpack,” Asami offers. 

Zuko sighs and slowly lowers his hand, accepting his fate with red cheeks. “Whatever. I have time to go home after this. But thanks.”

Korra snickers. “I guess that answers the question of if you had a good weekend.”

Zuko gives her a half-hearted glare, but before he can respond, Sokka is taking the open seat next to him. 

“Hey guys!” he greets, then frowns when he looks over at Zuko. “Is your neck okay, Zuko?” he asks, looking slightly concerned. 

He grunts when Zuko kicks him roughly in the leg, and Zuko smiles sweetly at him. “Oops, sorry, I hope that doesn’t leave a mark.” 

Korra glances to her right at Asami, who is already looking at her with a bewildered expression.

Zuko’s good mood doesn’t last. They start the next unit and only ten minutes into class, Korra can tell he has the same headache that she’s feeling. Even Bolin’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Korra glances at her girlfriend and breathes a sigh of relief to see that she seems to be absorbing all the new information like a sponge. Asami explains it in simpler terms, but even then Korra isn’t sure how they are supposed to solve this practice problem together.

“You guys doing good?”

Zuko’s hand tightens on his pen, and he doesn’t look up at Sokka as he hovers over their group. “We are doing well. You can leave us now.”

Sokka scoffs. “Oh, is that how this is going to be? And here I was going to tell you the simple mistake you made in your formula...”

Korra half expects Zuko to lash out again, but instead he sighs and slumps back in his chair, looking up at Sokka. “Please help?”

The smile on Sokka’s face makes Korra look away, feeling as if she is intruding on something, and he takes the seat next to Zuko and starts to walk them through the problem. Her gaze lands on Sokka’s left hand and she notices, not for the first time, the small but elegant tattoo on one of his fingers.

…

The second half of the semester is much harder than the first, and she wonders how and why on earth Sokka wanted to take more physics classes if this was supposed to be the introduction. Then again, Asami seems to be enjoying it, and after hearing about Sokka’s double major in physics and engineering, she’s pretty sure he becomes her personal hero. 

Korra has no choice but to pay more attention in lectures and stop wondering what the hell is going on between Sokka and Zuko. She wonders if Sokka will finally ask Zuko out once they finish the course. Judging by the way Zuko’s icy exterior thaws whenever Sokka is speaking or is within five feet of them, she’s betting he’ll say yes. Alas, she has more to keep her mind occupied than their odd path to courtship, and she tries to at least understand the basic concepts so Asami can walk her through the more complex parts later.

When Zuko arrives at their reserved study room a week before the final, he’s carrying a plate that may as well have rotten fish on it, judging by the expression on his face and the way he is carrying it.

“I brought cookies,” he says in the same tone that someone would use to announce “I lost all my possessions in a fire”.

He places it on the table, and when Bolin starts to say something about no food allowed in the library, Korra kicks him and grabs two.

“I didn’t think you were the baking type,” she tells him around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

“I’m not. My husband made them and insisted I bring them for motivation or something,” Zuko says.

Korra manages to not spit out her cookie everywhere, but carefully swallows it and clears her throat, exchanging wide-eyed looks with her friends. “You’re married?”

Zuko gives her a confused look and holds up his left hand. Sure enough, there’s a wedding band on his ring finger that managed to blend in with his other rings. “I have been for almost a year now.”

“Wow,” Bolin whistles. “Poor Sokka, he seemed really into you. You should let him know so he doesn’t get his hopes up.”

Zuko gives him a flat look. “I’ll be sure to tell him. Did you guys start filling out the study guide yet?”

The next hour drags on. Korra knows she should be focusing on studying for their final. Their schedules are too busy to meet together as much as they’d like to before they have to take it, and she needs to take advantage of the time she has. But she is too distracted by the puzzle in her mind that is coming together perfectly. 

Fortunately, Zuko gives her a break when his phone rings and he steps out to take it outside of the library. 

As soon as the door closes, Korra reaches over and locks it. 

Asami quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are you locking us in, or locking Zuko out?”

“The second one. You guys, I just realized something that’s going to blow your minds: Zuko and Sokka are married.”

It does not have the reaction she was hoping for. Bolin and Asami stare at her, then look at each other and start laughing. 

“Zuko and Sokka? As in, our TA Sokka? What makes you think that?” Asami giggles, and it’s too endearing to watch that Korra can’t get frustrated that they don’t believe her. 

She focuses and looks away, splaying her hands on the table and leaning forward. “No, trust me, I have been suspicious about them for a while now, but it didn’t add up until tonight, when I saw Zuko’s wedding band. It has a simple design, but I swear there is a similar pattern in the tattoo on Sokka’s hand, and I’m 90% sure it’s on his ring finger.”

“Sokka has a tattoo on his finger?” Bolin asks, brows furrowed.

Korra groans. This is going to be harder than she thought. “Listen, I know you two are like, the future Sokkas of this course, but you can’t tell me you haven’t been paying attention to anything else. Sokka helps us during class enough that I’ve noticed his tattoo when he points stuff out on our pages. Also, isn’t it a little suspicious just how often Sokka helps us, considering you two are the smartest people in that room? It’s because he’s helping his husband.”

Bolin and Asami share a glance, the wheels turning. “Has Sokka ever talked about being married?” Bolin frowns, grabbing another cookie.

Korra pauses, her mind racing. Sokka talks with his class about his love for physics more than his love for anything else, but then Asami gasps next to her.

“Does anyone still have his introductory email from the beginning of the semester?”

Korra’s eyes widen. “Babe, you’re a genius.” She pulls out her phone, aware that Zuko could come back any second, and searches Sokka’s name in her inbox. There are a few announcements, some responses to her questions, an email that he sent full of pictures of his cat to make them smile while studying for the midterm…

“I got it,” Korra whispers, opening the very first email from him. Asami and Bolin try to read over her shoulder, but she spots it first. 

“Oh my god, he said he’s a newly wed,” she tells them. 

Bolin’s jaw drops, and Asami sits back in her chair, the look of disbelief slowly fading from her features. 

“Oh my god. How have we never noticed?” Bolin wonders aloud.

“So that means Sokka made these?” Korra says, holding up a third cookie. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Why would they hide that, though?” Asami asks.

“Who says they’re hiding it? They both are pretty busy, I don’t think--”

“Zuko’s coming!” Bolin hisses, his eyes glancing over Korra to peer through the glass door. Korra launches herself forward to unlock it then sits back and tries to act normal. Unfortunately, Asami and Bolin are doing the same, and they’re not the best of liars.

Zuko is smiling at his phone when he walks in, and he glances up and freezes when he sees the three staring at him.

“What?” he asks slowly. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nothing at all,” Bolin says, his voice higher than normal. Korra sighs, but is grateful when Zuko mentions that he has to leave in two hours, and they get back to work.

…

i can't be fucked to give this an ending or to fix it up enough for me to like it and post it (i wrote it almost four years ago so the writing style feels too different) but i hope you enjoyed what i do have <3

[share-the-damn-bed]

Nancy realizing that Jonathan is still her partner in every way, shape, and form.