#“Ask ChatGPT to fix it for you.”

[ziekkfreak2-0]

Dear parents/parental figures,

Please stop recommending I use ChatGPT while I have a breakdown about my academic performance. I don't need to be reminded that my tuition is paid by blood anymore than I already do.

Thank you!

Sincerely,

Your artist-writer daughter.

[hneycmb]

I need people to stop thinking of robots and AI in their current states of advancement as conscious beings. It's a weird amount of anthropomorphization that really misses the mark on what the concerns surrounding these things should be. When you start talking about AI and robots as anything but tools, you begin to view robots and AI themselves as the problem instead of the people in charge of them and what they're being used for. It also makes you sound like a luddite who thinks the voice in their smartphone is Literally The Devil.

[aiweirdness]

Among the many downsides of AI-generated art: it's bad at revising. You know, the biggest part of the process when working on commissioned art.

Original "deer in a grocery store" request from chatgpt (which calls on dalle3 for image generation):

revision 5 (trying to give the fawn spots, trying to fix the shadows that were making it appear to hover):

I had it restore its own Jesus fresco.

Original:

Erased the face, asked it to restore the image to as good as when it was first painted:

Wait tumblr makes the image really low-res, let me zoom in on Jesus's face.

Original:

Restored:

One revision later:

Here's the full "restored" face in context:

Every time AI is asked to revise an image, it either wipes it and starts over or makes it more and more of a disaster. People who work with AI-generated imagery have to adapt their creative vision to what comes out of the system - or go in with a mentality that anything that fits the brief is good enough.

I'm not surprised that there are some places looking for cheap filler images that don't mind the problems with AI-generated imagery. But for everyone else I think it's quickly becoming clear that you need a real artist, not a knockoff.

more

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[foggieststars]

I think you guys are thinking too much about it. AI or no AI a fic is a fic. It doesn't matter. You think you writing about real people is ethical? Writing them fucking and with controversial pairings? AI is all over the place like get used to it. If someone is using AI to fix their errors, or to just improve some writing why tf do you care? Y'all are just entitled. Not everyone's great at English. Just stfu and LET people write what they want. God.

hi, this is such an ignorant ask i'm incredibly surprised you felt confident enough to hit send! but i'll engage with you in good faith regardless.

yes, there are debates about the ethics of writing RPF, but i think comparing them to the ethical debates about the use of AI is frankly quite laughable. not only does AI have an incredibly detrimental impact on the environment, the impacts are likely to be unequal and hit already resource-strained environments the hardest. (i am providing sources for you here, something i'm assuming you're unfamiliar with since you are so in favour of relying on AI to generate 'original' thought). moreover, many AI models rely on data scraping in order to train these models. it is very often the case that creators of works on the internet - for example, ao3 - do not give consent for their works to be used to train these models. it raises ethical questions about ownership of content, and of intellectual property beyond fanfiction. comparing these ethical dilemmas to the ethics of rpf is not an argument that convinces me, nor i'm sure does it convince many others.

"AI is all over the place like get used to it" - frankly, i'm not surprised you're so supportive of AI, if this is the best argument in its favour you can muster. you know what else is all over the place?? modern slavery! modern slavery's extremely commonplace across the world, anti-slavery international estimate that about 50 million people globally are living in modern slavery. following the line of your argument, since modern slavery is so commonplace, this must make it okay, and we should get used to it. the idea that just because something is everywhere makes it acceptable is a logical fallacy. do you see how an overreliance on AI reduces your ability to critically think, and to form arguments for yourself?

please explain to me how i'm entitled for thinking that relying on AI to produce something of generally, extremely poor quality, is poor behaviour on your part, or the part of other people who do it. you don't have to write fanfiction in english, and if you do struggle with english, there are MANY talented betas in this fandom who i'm sure would be willing to lend a hand and fix SPAG. you are NOT going to improve your english by getting AI to fix it for you.

as @wisteriagoesvroom helpfully pointed out "art is an act of emotion and celebration and joy and defiance. it is an unshakeable, unstoppable feeling that idea that must and should be expressed" - this is not something you can achieve via the use of AI. you might think it's not that deep, but for many people who dedicate hours of their time to writing fanfiction, it feels very much like a slap in the face. and what's more, it produces negligible benefits for the person who is engaging in creating AI fanfiction.

i agree with you that people should write whatever they want, but the operative word in that statement is write. i do not, and will not ever consider inputting prompts into chatgpt a sincere form of artistic creation. thanks!

[onbearfeet]

Before you use ChatGPT to write that thing, please know that one of the YouTubers I research/write for just sent me a script he got from someone else that was very obviously generated by a large language model, and we roasted it for about an hour. There was a lot of "why does it keep talking about a bag of leaves like it's a novel concept" and "I think that paragraph gave me a stroke" and lots of "I sincerely hope you didn't pay actual money for this."

We can tell. We can tell you didn't use your brain, and it pisses us off. The mistakes you make aren't nearly as stupid as the ones the machine makes, and they are MUCH easier to fix. When you turn in genAI glop, you're asking the recipient to either put in a shit-ton of work making sense of it or just write you off entirely.

Just write your own shit! Make it terrible! It literally CANNOT be worse than the slop spewed out by the planet-burning plagiarism engine! And definitely don't expect to be paid or get credit for turning in what amounts to lorem ipsum!

That "writer" got fired, btw. Not least because neither the YouTuber nor I wanted to spend all that time using our brains to fix what he shat out without using his.

[aliwritex]

dad!franco thoughts: slices of life

notes and warnings: just thoughts really, Teo is giving everyone a hard time, Sofia’s a survivor, chatgpt translated all the spanish for me.

1. first emergency

HOSPITAL KOW

You felt your entire body shaking as you read the text from Franco when you were leaving the gym. You called him immediately, the three seconds that took him to pick up sending your anxiety over the roof.

“What happened?”

You could hear both of your kids crying in the background.

“I’m driving to the hospital right now, Teo closed the door on Sofi’s finger and she can’t move it.”

“Why is Teo crying too?” you asked as you got in the car.

“He feels bad”

“Oh, god, my babies. Meet you there, need anything?”

“No. I love you”

“Love you too”

The drive to the hospital was a mess, you were at the speed limit at all times, passing anyone that you deemed too slow. You managed to get there first and help the kids out of Franco’s car when he parked. He made his way in with your daughter while you tried to calm Teo down.

You wanted to cry just from seeing their red faces but you had to control yourself, show your son that everything was fine.

“How are you feeling, baby?” you asked, wiping the tears off his face.

“I hurt Sofi, mommy”

“And she’s gonna be just fine, okay? The doctor’s gonna fix her little finger and we can go home”

“I’m sorry, mommy” he apologized, still crying.

“It’s okay, baby, it was an accident”

You held him till he stopped crying, sitting in the waiting room. You only relaxed again when Franco came out with your sleeping daughter in his arms. He looked much calmer too.

“It was broken” he said, showing you her tiny hand in a cast. “tylenol for pain and lots of love” he handed you the prescription “good news is baby bones are easy to fix, bad news is we gotta keep her hand away from her mouth for two weeks.” he turned to your son who was trying to look at his sister “No es nada, mi amor, solo una pupa” he showed Teo.

“A pupa?” you smiled, giving him a questioning look.

“A booboo” he explained.

“Right. I’ve never heard that one before.”

“That’s because this one,” he pointed at Teo “thankfully, didn’t get many pupas.”

“You sound silly with your baby talk.” you told him as you walked out of the hospital “Never would’ve imagined you like this when we first met”

2. mommy fixes anything

“¡Papá!” Franco heard his daughter scream and immediately put his phone down running to her room where she was supposed to be asleep.

When he opened the door her face was red and covered in tears and she had a ripped stuffed animal in her tiny hands.

“Shorter nap today, huh?” he picked her up and inspected the toy in his hand “What happened here, mi amor?”

He asked but Sofia only cried more as he walked her to the living room where Teo was playing.

“Teo, do you happen to know anything about this?”

The boy went pale when his dad showed him the toy before tears filled up his eyes and his lips formed a pout.

“¡Perdon, papi!” he cried looking down at his own toys.

“What happened, Teo? You know this is one of your sisters favorite toys.”

“I was just playing papi. Bobo was on the floor and my car ran over him. I’m sorry, papi”

“Ay, mi amor, it’s okay” he sat down next to Teo in the floor, Sofia sniffling in his arms. “Hey, I’ll ask mommy to fix it, okay? Bobo will be good as new” he wiped his son’s tears away and turned to the younger kid “Hear that, Sofi? No need to cry, mommy’s gonna come home and fix it for you”

3. nap time

“Have you seen Teo?” you asked Franco who was making snack plates for the kids “He said he didn’t want to nap after school today, but he’s not in his room or the playroom”

“You sure? I haven’t seen him either, thought he was sleeping”

“Fuck” you sighed, already moving from the kitchen to look for him.

You looked out the window to see if he was outside but nothing, in the living room, behind the plants, back in the playroom, in his room, your room, nothing, nothing and nothing. Franco had started looking for him too by the time you decided to check in Sofia’s room.

Your heart finally stopped racing when you found him. He had climbed into his sister’s crib and was cuddling her, his tiny body wrapped around her tinier body. They were both asleep, and their identical faces were the same, mouths open, drooling and long lashes brushing their chubby cheeks.

Franco walked in with you when he saw the door open, he couldn’t help but chuckle as you took a picture.

“They look just like you. That’s exactly what you look like when you sleep” you said, leaning on him as he hugged you from behind.

“I look perfect when I sleep, then” he teased and you nodded, kissing his cheek. “How did he even managed that?

“I’ll have to look in the camera later. We have to wake them up now, or they will be too energetic for bedtime.”

“Don’t wanna move them, they look so comfortable”

4. tantrums and airport struggles

“¡Papi! My bag is heavy” Teo complains.

“You can always get in the stroller with your sister”

"¡No soy un bebé, papi!"

It seemed that every year the trip to Argentine got worse. Franco wouldn’t give it up for anything and neither would you but the kids made everything much more difficult. So much stuff you had to pack and carry on.

With Teo being almost five he got very vocal, about everything. He wasn’t about to keep quiet in the airport, especially when he had to walk all the way across it because you got the wrong gate. You weren’t stupid, you had a stroller, obviously, for Sofia and Mateo, cause you knew how tiring traveling across the ocean is. But he absolutely refused to use it.

He was a big boy and he didn’t need a stroller. But he did need to whine about walking. His bag was heavy, his shoes hurt his feet, he didn’t want to hold his dad’s hand, anything he could do to make it more difficult he would do. Franco had let you take the easy one, Sofia that was already napping in the stroller.

So he was stuck with the toddler’s tantrums.

“I’m not carrying your bag and I’m not letting you take your shoes off, pibe. If you’re tired you can just sit on the stroller.”

“Pero, papi” he whined.

Franco was just about to lose his sanity when the boy tripped. He tripped over the laces of his shoes that he had untied in an attempt to get rid of them. The man mumbled a curse under his breath before reaching out for the boy that was now crying.

“Will you listen now?” he asked once the boy calmed down. “You can’t take off your shoes and if you were in the stroller you’d be safe and sound, probably sleeping.”

“I don’t wanna go in the stroller, papi”

Franco took a deep breath as he picked up the child, taking the bag from his back and the shoes off his feet. He walked over to you to throw his things on Teo’s seat on the stroller.

“He won?” you asked, watching Mateo hugging his father’s neck, sniffling as he rested on his shoulder.

“I think so”

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 9: Across the Divide

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: angst, fluff, 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language, loss of virginity, handjob, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, missionary, creampie.

A/N: If Chapter 8 was a punch to the gut, this one is… well, let’s call it an attempt at first aid. Sort of. Have you ever watched two people try to fix something in the worst possible way, only for it to somehow work because they don’t know any other language but this? Yeah. That.

Consider this a little Valentine’s Day treat. Twisted, messy, and completely them. Read when you’re ready. And yes, my inbox is still open for any and all reactions.

Word count: 7 k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The yard had grown quiet as the other workers moved further into the forest, leaving Logan to finish stacking the last of the wood alone. The sharp bite of winter hung in the air, his breath clouding in front of him with every exhale. The solitude was welcome—at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the silence didn’t stop the memories.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Logan clenched his fists, the words circling in his mind like a relentless echo. He grabbed a log from the pile and slammed it onto the stump, the impact reverberating through his arms. The ax swung down, splitting the wood clean in two.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced.”

He knew better than to hope for steady ground, better than to let himself believe he could hold onto something good. With Evelyn, it had felt different—like maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a life that didn’t feel like running or regret.

Now, it felt like a mistake.

The kiss he’d seen replayed over and over in his head, each time cutting deeper. It wasn’t just her ex he was angry at, though the smugness on the bastard’s face made Logan’s blood boil. No, most of the anger was for himself—for being stupid enough to think he could be enough for her.

The crunch of boots on gravel pulled him from his thoughts. Pete and Rick approached from the truck, their faces drawn with concern.

“You alright, Howlett?” Pete asked, his voice cautious but probing.

Logan didn’t look up, hefting another log onto the stump. “I’m fine.”

Pete and Rick exchanged a glance, the kind that said he’s definitely not fine.

“Look,” Pete began, leaning on the tailgate. “You don’t want to talk about it. But you’ve been going at this woodpile like it owes you money. Maybe take a second to breathe?”

“I don’t need a breather,” Logan said flatly, his tone daring them to push further.

Rick, quieter but no less perceptive, stepped up beside Pete. “You don’t have to talk,” he said after a pause, his voice measured. “But if you keep bottling it up, it’s gonna come out sideways.”

Logan didn’t respond, his focus locked on the ax as he brought it down with enough force to split the log cleanly.

Pete let out a low whistle. “Man, whatever’s eating at you must be big. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Logan finally stopped, leaning on the ax handle and leveling Pete with a glare. “I said I’m fine.”

“Sure, sure,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you keep this up, there won’t be any wood left in the yard for the rest of us.”

Rick sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, Logan. I don’t know what happened with Evelyn, but if she’s got you this twisted up, maybe she’s worth hearing out.”

Logan’s grip on the ax tightened, his jaw clenching as he stared at the ground. The truth in Rick’s words cut deeper than he cared to admit.

“Not my place to butt in,” Pete added, though his grin said otherwise. “But if you’re spending this much time stewing over it, she’s probably thinking about you, too.”

Logan shot them both a sharp look, then yanked the ax from the stump and turned toward the forest. “Leave it alone,” he muttered, stalking off into the trees without another word.

Pete waited until Logan was out of earshot before muttering, “Yeah, that went well.”

Rick shrugged, grabbing the thermos from the truck bed. “He’ll figure it out. He always does.”

During the course of the next couple of days the rhythm of the yard was the same, but Logan’s presence felt heavier. He worked harder than usual, his focus razor-sharp, but the tension in his frame was impossible to ignore.

Pete and Rick kept their distance this time, their occasional glances filled with concern.

By midday, Logan had thrown himself into another project, replacing a broken tool rack near the shed. His movements were precise, his jaw set in determination. But even as he worked, his mind wandered—back to the driveway, to Evelyn’s face when she saw him, and to the kiss that had shattered something inside him.

The guys noticed, but they didn’t say a word. Pete started a fire near the edge of the clearing, his usual jokes subdued. Rick passed by with a nod but left Logan to his thoughts.

By the time dusk fell, Logan was still at it, the hammer in his hand swinging with a force that bordered on reckless.

Tension seemed to follow him wherever he went, and his coworkers gave him a wide berth, exchanging knowing glances but keeping their distance.

The others gave him a wide berth, the tension in the yard thick enough to cut with a blade. Midday, the office phone rang, its shrill tone breaking the monotony of the worksite. Rick wiped his hands on a rag as he stepped inside to answer.

“Yeah, this is Rick,” he said, leaning against the desk.

“Hey, it’s Mary,” his wife’s voice came through the line, light but concerned. “Thought you’d want to know—I saw Evelyn back in town. She was at the general store this morning.”

Rick raised an eyebrow, glancing out the window toward Logan. “That right?”

“She looked... well, not great. Like she’s been through it. Thought Logan might want to know.”

Rick thanked her and hung up, stepping back outside with a purposeful stride. Pete caught his eye as he walked toward Logan, who was hunched over another stack of wood.

“What’s the news?” Pete asked.

Rick ignored him, stopping a few feet from Logan. “Hey, Howlett,” he called out, his tone even.

Logan didn’t look up. “What?”

Rick hesitated, then said, “Mary saw Evelyn in town this morning. Thought you’d want to know.”

Logan froze, his hands stilling on the axe handle. For a moment, it looked like he might respond, but then he shook his head and resumed working.

“Good for her,” he muttered, his voice flat.

Pete stepped forward, frustration evident in his expression. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re hurting, and so is she. Go talk to her.”

Logan’s grip on the axe tightened, his knuckles white. “I said I don’t care,” he snapped.

Pete sighed, throwing up his hands. “Alright, fine. Be stubborn. But don’t come crying to us when it’s too late.”

Rick shot Pete a warning look, but Logan didn’t seem to hear them anymore. He swung the axe down with a force that sent the wood flying, the conversation over.

When the day finally ended, Logan climbed into his truck, his body aching from the nonstop work. The drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to fill the cab.

As he pulled onto the dirt road leading to his cottage, his headlights illuminated a familiar vehicle parked in his driveway. Logan’s chest tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he slowed to a stop.

It was Evelyn’s truck.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at it, his mind racing. A part of him wanted to get out, to see her, to hear whatever explanation she had to offer. But the memory of that kiss, of her ex standing so close to her, was a wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding.

With a sharp exhale, Logan put the truck in reverse and backed down the road.

He didn’t look back.

The next day Logan was halfway to the kitchen when he noticed the Polaroid resting on the mantle—the one Evelyn had taken of herself.  

He stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening as he reached out to pick it up. The sight of her smile—the carefree warmth in her eyes—brought a lump to his throat he couldn’t swallow.  

A sudden knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. He hesitated, his grip on the Polaroid tightening as he listened.  

“I know you’re there, Logan,” Evelyn’s voice called softly from the other side. “Are you done running away from me? Please... let me explain.”  

Logan’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the photo in his hand. He didn’t move.  

“Logan,” she tried again, her voice trembling. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”  

Still, he didn’t answer.  

The minutes stretched on, the silence heavy and suffocating. Eventually, Evelyn exhaled shakily, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”  

When the sound of her footsteps receded, Logan finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He sat down heavily, the Polaroid still in his hand as the weight of the past few days pressed down on him like a boulder.  

They didn’t speak for a week after Evelyn’s return. The silence between them was deafening, but neither seemed willing to bridge the gap.

The logging yard was alive with the rhythmic sound of axes striking wood, the hum of engines, and the occasional crack of a tree falling in the distance. Evelyn’s truck rolled into the gravel lot, its tires crunching softly against the frozen ground. Her heart pounded as she parked near the edge of the clearing, unsure if she had made the right decision by coming here.

As she stepped out, the cold air nipped at her cheeks, her breath visible in the chill. Her gaze scanned the bustling yard until it landed on two familiar figures standing near the truck bed—Rick and Pete. They noticed her almost instantly, exchanging a quick glance before Pete raised a hand in greeting.

“Miss Evelyn!” Pete called, his tone warm but tinged with curiosity. He closed the distance between them, wiping his hands on his flannel shirt. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything alright?”

She hesitated, shifting on her feet as Rick joined them, his expression more reserved but just as welcoming.

“Is Logan here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Pete and Rick exchanged another look, this one heavier.

“He’s around,” Rick said carefully, his arms folding across his chest. “But this probably isn’t the place for whatever conversation you’re looking to have.”

Evelyn’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the last few days catching up to her. “I’ve been trying to talk to him,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I went to his cabin, but... he wouldn’t see me.”

Pete winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s been... well, let’s just say he’s not exactly himself lately.”

“He’s hurt,” Rick added bluntly, his gaze steady on her. “You can see it in the way he’s working—pushing himself harder than he should. Whatever happened between you two, it’s eating him alive.”

Evelyn swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t even—” She stopped, her breath hitching as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I never wanted to hurt him.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I believe you. But he’s got his walls up right now. It’s going to take more than just words to get through to him.”

Pete stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk to him. Try to get him to see reason. But you’ve got to give him a little time, alright? Let us handle it.”

Evelyn nodded reluctantly, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” she said softly.

“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”

The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.

By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.

With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.

Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.

She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.

“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”

The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.

By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.

With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.

Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.

She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.

It wasn’t until a rainy evening, as Evelyn was driving home from a fair out of town, that their paths crossed again. Logan’s truck was idling at an intersection, his expression unreadable as their eyes met through the windshield. Without thinking, she pulled over, her tires skidding slightly in the mud. She threw her truck into park and jumped out, the cold rain immediately soaking through her coat as she ran toward him.

“Logan,” she called, her voice barely audible over the downpour. 

Logan slammed on the brakes, his truck skidding slightly before halting. He stepped out, his gaze finally meeting hers, his eyes shadowed with a mix of anger and hurt. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, drops clinging to his lashes as he looked at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and sharp.

“I’m trying to fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t stand how things are between us right now.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. “Maybe things are better this way.”

“No,” she said firmly. “They’re not. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I’m not letting you leave again. Not without hearing me out.”

“I’ve heard enough.”, he spits out.

Evelyn steps closer, her voice rising over the rain.“No, you haven’t! You think you know what happened, but you don’t! That kiss—it wasn’t me. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing.“Didn’t look like you were pulling away, either.”

“I froze! I didn’t know how to react. But the second I saw you, it was over. I didn’t care about him—I care about you.”, she said looking at him.

He let out a harsh breath, looking away. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what I saw.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted, tears mixing with the rain. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care about how it would hurt you. I love you, Logan. Do you hear me? I love you. And I’m not letting you push me away because of one stupid mistake.”

Logan’s breath catches, his usual walls crumbling under the weight of her words. For a moment, he just stares at her, the rain streaming down his face, a flicker of something raw crossing his face. “Don’t say that,” he muttered. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice breaking as tears mixed with the rain streaming down her face. “I love you, and I’m sorry for everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you, Logan. Please believe me.”

For a long moment, they stood there in the rain, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, Logan closed the distance, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her—desperate, hungry, and filled with all the emotions he’d kept bottled up.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Logan exhaled softly. “I love you tooI’ve been alone a long time,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I know how to do this... but I can’t lose you.”

Evelyn smiled through her tears, her hands still cradling his face. “You’re not going to lose me, Logan. We’ll figure it out together.”

The rain continued to pour around them, but in that moment, it felt like the storm had finally passed.

Logan’s eyes searched hers, and without another word, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was deeper, hotter, and filled with all the longing he had tried to suppress. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Evelyn responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his rain-soaked hair, her lips parting to meet his urgency. The rain continued to pour around them, but neither seemed to care. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, the heat between them undeniable despite the cold storm.

Logan’s hands slid up her back, strong and steady, anchoring her as their kiss deepened. When she pressed against him, he let out a low, guttural sound, his restraint slipping. His lips left hers, trailing along her jaw and down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as her head tilted back, exposing more of her to him.

“Maybe we should—” Logan murmured against her neck, his voice rough and uneven.

“Get out of the rain?” she finished breathlessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension crackling between them. “Yeah. Before we end up with pneumonia.”

They broke apart reluctantly, the air charged as they hurried to his truck. Once inside, the doors slammed shut, the rain pounding against the roof providing a steady rhythm to the silence that followed.

But the moment was far from over. As soon as the doors were locked, Logan reached for her again, pulling her onto his lap. Their lips collided once more, this time with an unrestrained passion that made her shiver. Her hands roamed over his chest, the damp flannel clinging to his broad frame as he held her tightly, his fingers gripping her hips as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Their movements grew more heated, her hips grinding down against him instinctively as their breathing quickened. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the seat as she moved again, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both of them.

“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “If we don’t stop now…”

She paused, her forehead pressing to his as they both struggled to catch their breath. The weight of his words hung between them, but neither made a move to pull away.

“Then let’s go,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks. 

Logan’s hands tightened on her waist, his amber eyes dark with emotion and something deeper. “You sure?”

She nodded, brushing her lips against his once more, softer this time but no less certain. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Without another word, Logan gently lifted her off his lap, his touch lingering as they adjusted themselves. He started the truck, his hand finding hers as they drove through the rain, the tension between them simmering and unresolved—but not for much longer.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time Logan pulled the truck into the clearing by his cabin. The headlights cut through the downpour, illuminating the weathered wood of the small structure nestled among the trees.

Logan killed the engine, turning to glance at Evelyn. Her cheeks were flushed, her damp hair sticking to her neck and temples, but she was staring at him with an intensity that sent a pang through his chest.

“Come on,” he muttered, stepping out of the truck. The cold rain hit him immediately, but he barely noticed as he rounded the vehicle to her side.

Evelyn climbed out, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill seeped through her already soaked clothes. Logan’s hand pressed gently against her back, guiding her toward the cabin. The touch was firm but protective, his warmth cutting through the cold.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of pine and faint smoke. Logan flicked on a single lamp, its amber glow softening the shadows in the small space.

“Go shower,” he said gruffly, already shrugging off his wet flannel and hanging it on a hook near the door. His voice softened as he added, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

Evelyn hesitated, watching as he bent to stoke the fireplace. The orange flames roared to life under his practiced touch, casting flickering light over his broad shoulders and damp hair.

“What about you?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll dry off,” he replied without looking at her. “Go on. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

She lingered for a moment longer, the warmth of his care sinking into her even if his tone was brusque. Then she nodded and disappeared down the hall.

By the time she returned, the cabin was bathed in a cozy glow. Logan had shed his wet clothes, now dressed in a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He was seated on the couch, his head resting against the back, eyes half-closed as he warmed himself by the fire.

Evelyn paused in the doorway, her heart stuttering at the sight of him. He looked so unguarded, so human, a stark contrast to the stormy, gruff exterior he so often wore.

She was wearing one of his shirts—soft and slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows. Her hair was still damp, and her cheeks held a faint blush.

Logan’s eyes opened as she stepped into the room, and they darkened when they landed on her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them carrying all the weight of what had happened that night.

She crossed the room and climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. Logan stiffened slightly, his hands instinctively resting on her thighs, but he didn’t pull away.

“Evelyn…” he began, his voice low, almost a warning.

“I just want to be close to you,” she whispered, her hands finding his shoulders. “Is that okay?”

Logan’s eyes softened, the tension in his body easing as he exhaled. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to rest on her waist. 

She leaned forward, her forehead pressing gently to his. They sat like that for a moment, the crackling fire filling the silence. Logan’s hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and she sighed softly, her fingers trailing along the curve of his jaw.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice rough but sincere.

“I know,” she replied, brushing her lips lightly against his. “But I want this. I want you.”

Logan’s breath hitched as her hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingers grazing his skin with the kind of deliberate, maddening slowness that made his muscles tighten. He caught her wrists, holding them still against his chest as his amber eyes locked onto hers, dark with a mixture of frustration and desire.

“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice low, like gravel, as though her name alone was enough to unravel him. “Don’t push me unless you mean it.”

Her lips curved—not into a smile, but something softer, something steeped in the kind of certainty he wasn’t sure how to face. “I mean it,” she whispered, her words quiet but carrying the weight of all the times she hadn’t said them before.

Logan’s grip on her wrists loosened, his hands sliding up her arms and pulling her closer as if he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head, his forehead pressing to hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the faint storm still raging outside.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” he murmured, his voice raw, thick with the effort it took to hold himself back.

Her response was immediate, her fingers curling into his shoulders as she tugged him closer. “I’ve waited long enough,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was racing. “Haven’t you?”

The question landed like a punch to his chest. Of course he had. Every glance, every touch, every moment she’d been close enough to feel but not touch—it had all been building to this, wearing him down piece by piece. And now, here she was, not just asking but demanding, her presence overwhelming in a way that left him powerless to resist.

“Damn it, Evelyn,” he growled, his voice barely a whisper as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His lips captured hers with a ferocity that surprised even him, the kiss deep and unrelenting, years of restraint and denial crumbling in an instant.

She responded in kind, her hands threading into his hair as if she couldn’t get him close enough. Her hips shifted instinctively against his, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest that sent a shiver racing through her.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers, his breath ragged as his hands tightened on her waist. “If we keep going…” His voice was strained, his words a warning that came too late.

Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Then we keep going,” she said simply, her voice soft but resolute. Her hands drifted down to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward in one fluid motion.

Logan let her strip it away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he studied her. His hands hovered at her sides, hesitant, even now. “You sure?” he asked, the question a bare whisper, almost lost in the space between them.

Her answer was to close the gap, her lips brushing his with a gentleness that sent his control spiraling. “I’ve never been more sure,” she murmured, her voice steady even as her fingers traced the faint scars across his chest.

Logan groaned softly, his hands finally moving, sliding up her sides with a reverence that made her heart ache. When he kissed her again, it wasn’t hurried—it was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to commit every second to memory.

Without a word, he shifted, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her the short distance to the bedroom. He set her down carefully, his hands lingering at her hips as he stood over her, his chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint.

Her hands reached for him again, pulling him down until he was hovering above her, the weight of him grounding her as much as it electrified her. His lips found hers, his kiss deepening as his hands explored her body with a mix of hunger and care.

When her hips rolled against him again, drawing another guttural sound from his throat, Logan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “If we’re doing this,” he said, his voice a growl softened by something deeper, “I’m not letting you go.”

Her lips curved, her fingers threading into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan. “Good,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and desire. “Because I don’t want you to.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto hers, the raw heat in his gaze making her pulse race. He crushed his lips to hers, the kiss no longer gentle but searing, desperate, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he pressed her back into the bed. The weight of him was intoxicating, his strength overwhelming yet controlled, as if he were holding himself back by sheer will alone. She wasn’t having it. Her fingers slid down his chest, nails skimming the taut muscles before finding the button of his jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she popped it open, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness, savoring the sharp inhale he couldn’t suppress.

Logan growled against her mouth, his breath hot and uneven as he broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, a teasing bite that made her gasp and arch into him.

Logan’s hands, large and rough, gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it upward, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The garment fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as his eyes roamed over her, dark with hunger.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, tempered with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

Her cheeks burned, her nerves tangling with her desire. “I… I want to,” she whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of his waistband, but her voice trembled despite her conviction. “I just—”

Logan silenced her with a kiss, this one slower, deliberate, as if he were savoring her. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed over her cheek, his expression a mixture of hunger and restraint. “You don’t have to rush anything,” he said softly, his forehead pressing against hers. 

Her heart thudded at his words, and she nodded, her fingers trailing up to his chest, where his heartbeat was steady and strong beneath her touch. 

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his hands moving to her waist, steady and sure. 

Her hands trembled as she reached for him, sliding over his chest and down to the waistband of his jeans. “I want to see you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan grinned, the expression almost feral, but there was a softness in his gaze as he stood to strip off his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion. When he returned to her, he moved slower, his body warm and solid as he pressed against her.

“Touch me,” he encouraged, his hand guiding hers to explore the ridges of his chest and the lines of his muscles. The heat in his voice was laced with reassurance, and the way he watched her, patient and unhurried, made her boldness grow.

Her fingers mapped his skin, her touch tentative at first, but when he groaned, low and deep, she felt a thrill she couldn’t ignore. “Like that,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her thigh to pull her closer, his touch igniting sparks along her skin.

She tentatively grabbed hold of his thick and veiny penis, wrapping her fingers around him. Logan inhaled sharply at her touch, his jaw tightening momentarily before his expression softened. He placed his hand gently over hers, guiding her movements with slow precision.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

Evelyn’s blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away, her curiosity outweighing her hesitation. She watched his face, captivated by the way his brows furrowed slightly, his lips parting as she followed his lead. Her movements were clumsy at first, uncertain, but Logan’s patience never wavered.

"Good," he whispered, his voice laced with encouragement. "You're perfect."

The praise sent a shiver through her, and she felt a growing confidence in her actions. Logan leaned down, kissing her deeply, his hand sliding from hers to cup her cheek once more, anchoring her in the moment.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice shaky but filled with trust.

"May I?" he asked, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric of her panties.

Evelyn nodded, her breath catching as he began to slide the garment down her legs. His eyes never left hers, even as he rid her of the last barrier between them. Once she was bare beneath him, Logan took a moment to simply look at her, his gaze reverent.

Logan let his hands smooth over her thighs slowly opening them up, her arousal glistening in the low light of the room.

“Don’t be scared”, he whispered as he lowered himself coming face to face with her sex. “You smell so good.”, he said, nuzzling the skin of her inner thigh.

Logan peppered kisses over her mound and inner thigh’s, whie his hand snaked up to grab hold of her right breast and gave it a good squeeze.

Logan gave a kiss to her clit eliciting a moan to erupt from deep within. He took that as a sign to keep going, the hand that was on her breast trailed down her belly and stopped when it came in contact with her pussy. His index and pointer finger lowered down to her glistening hole collecting her arousal and spreading it around. Evelyn gasped and his tongue ran a single long line across her slit to her bud,making her shiver at the foreigner feeling.

“Logan…” she moaned.

“Tell me what you want.” he answered, his breath fanning over her hole.

“More of that, please.” 

He took her plea as an incentive to keep going. His tongue replaced his thumb, slowly circling her clit  and occasionally dipping it to her hole.

Evelyn's legs closed instinctively around his head as her moans became incrinsingly louder.

“Feel good?” he asked rhetorically.

She nodded looking down at him and biting her lip.

His index finger started to circle her hole as his tongue remained focused on her clit, carefully dipping it in, until his hand came in full contact with her pussy.

Evelyn moaned at the intrusion but welcomed it. Logan started to slowly pump it in and out, creating a steady rhythm.

Evelyn started to moan softly, and at that Logan decided to add another finger. 

“Oh God…”she moaned as his fingers pumped easily in and out of her. 

Her hand clasped around his arm as he began opening her hole “Logan…”

He positioned himself above her, continuing to pump his fingers. He licked her lips and gently bit her bottom lip pulling it slowly.

Evelyn, taken over by the overwhelming feeling, grabbed hold of his arm.”Logan…”, she moaned.

Logan could feel her walls tightening around his fingers and incresead the spead,making sure to stimulate her clit with his thumb.

A loud moan erupted from Evelyn as she came hard.

Content with this work, Logan retrieved his fingers from her hole and, staring at her eyes, sucked his fingers clean.

“So good,” he said as he laid between her legs.

Evelyn blushed at his words and pulled him in for a kiss. Logan laid his hips over hers, allowing for his manhood to come in direct contact with her pussy. As the kiss grew hungrier, their hips started to move, creating friction, allowing for moans to erupt on both ends.

Logan, without breaking the kiss, pulled his hips back, allowing for him to line himself with Evelyn's entry. He began to slowly push in, feeling the resistance slowly ease.

Evelyn gasped in his mouth, as she felt him bottom out.

Logan rested his forehead on hers and intertwined their fingers above her head.

“How are you feeling?”he asked, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“Full,” she said breathlessly.

He shifted his hips slightly, giving her time to adjust, his hand caressing the curve of her waist to steady her. Evelyn gasped again, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as her body adjusted to the stretch and fullness.  

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Logan said softly, his voice carrying both reassurance and patience.  

“I just… I need a moment.”she replied breathlessly, her cheeks flushed.  

Logan nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there. He stayed still, allowing her to acclimate to the new sensation. His fingers remained intertwined with hers, their grip grounding her in the moment.  

When Evelyn shifted her hips experimentally, a soft sigh escaping her lips, Logan took it as a sign to move. Slowly, he began to withdraw before easing back in, his movements controlled and deliberate. He watched her face closely, his sharp eyes scanning for any trace of discomfort, but all he found was awe and the growing haze of pleasure.  

Evelyn’s breaths came in short gasps, her lips parting as she met his thrusts tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. The connection between them deepened with every movement, the air heavy with shared vulnerability and trust.  

“You’re doing so good,” Logan praised, his voice rough yet tender as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin.  

Her hands tightened around his, her head tilting back into the pillows as soft moans spilled from her lips. “Logan… oh, Logan…” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of astonishment and need.  

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his pace quickening slightly as he felt her relax around him. Their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. The heat between them built steadily, the tension mounting as every thrust brought them closer to the edge.  

“You're so tight and wet- Fuck” he rasped, his voice thick as he pressed his forehead to hers once more.  

Logan's hand left hers to brush a strand of damp hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her flushed cheek. “I got you baby,” he whispered, his tone reverent.  

One of his hands made its way down, and Logan began circling her bundle of nerves.

“Yes! Oh, my God, yes!” Evelyn cried as her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders for stability, as she felt herself overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He smiled looking at her. “Look… Look at how good we fit together - shit” he moaned.

Evelyn looked down, and was amazed at the sight, his thick and veiny member covered in her slick going in and out of her, the motion creacting a creamy white ring at the base of his manhood. 

“Logan,” she said moaned.

Logan speed up, the sound of slapping skin feeling the room.

“It's okay baby, let it happen.” He leaned down and kissed her with a bruising force.

Evelyn moans filled the room.

She looked deep in his eyes and took hold of his hair. 

Oh

Oh

She tugged on his hair as she came hard around him, the bed beneath her shaking.

Logan growled as his tip bumped into her cervix, the extra lubrication helped him dive even deeper. 

“Sh-it!” He cursed as he felt her walls contracting around him urging his release.

Logan moaned deeply as his penis throbbed, spilling his seed deep inside of Evelyn’s velvety walls.

The new sensation made her eyes roll to the back of her head. It was something so deeply intimate and messy.

Logan collapsed on top of her. They were still both breathless as he lifted his head and looked at her.

“You okay?” He asked breathlessly as placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Evelyn smiled against his mouth, her arms still wrapped loosely around his shoulders. “More than okay,” she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of awe and teasing.

He smiled gently, lifting himself off her, to pull out his member from her.  He growled at the sight of their conjoined release coming out of her achy hole.

Logan laid beside her, his chest rising and falling in time with her soft breaths. Evelyn rested her head against him, her hand splayed over his heart as though it belonged there. The warmth of her body pressed into his, and he tightened his arm around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out as sleep began to claim her. Logan let his fingers trail lightly along her back, his touch lingering, savoring the moment.

For a long while, he simply stayed there, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. 

Eventually, his own eyes began to grow heavy, his mind and body at ease in a way he’d never thought possible. With Evelyn tucked safely against him, he let himself give in, falling into the pull of sleep.

Together, they drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber, tangled in each other’s arms, exactly where they were meant to be.

Chapter 8

______________________________________________________________--tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[messrsrarchives]

✨The Marauders Yap✨

it's here !! i did it !! y'all asked for a pod wayyyy back in july and i deliberated (stressed) for so long about it but ! it's here <3

this is a very unprofessional podcast where i (and anyone that i drag on along the way) sit and yap about harry potter ! the characters, the ships, fandom etiquette and discourses, engaging in a fandom space, creating for one, jkr etc etc -> it'll all go down here ! we're gonna yap !

Ep 1: The Importance of Fandom -> link here

this is the introductory episode so you know 🙂↕️ give him some grace 🙂↕️

i talk about how i got into the marauders fandom and what it looks like for me, and then about the importance of preserving these spaces given current events!

i yap about representation, community, and creativity and how these things are so so soooo important right now, and how we need to do our Best to keep them here <3

this is a Solo episode, just me and my dodgy mic!

the next ep will be my jkr,,, thesis? dissertation. diss track. application for a defamation claim. whichever is your preferred term for it is, it's my jkr monologue!

but for now, i hope you enjoy listening to a 20 year old wizard fan with the technological skills of a caveman that's been confronted with chatgpt yap away about fandom spaces for 50 minutes !

and thank you @itsradla for the logo and banner <3 again, tech is my worst enemy <3

(guys fr like the sound is not great sorry ! it goes very back and forth because i figured out what was going wrong AS i was editing, so i fixed the worst bits?? but i didn't want to refilm all of it because i liked that it was unrehearsed and sparsely planned ! but i promise from here on out, my mic works and i will not sound like a lawnmower <3)

[venussaidso]

ASHWINI CHARACTERS

Yall I asked ChatGPT to give me a list of gifted characters such as Beth Harmon (played by Anya Taylor Joy) and the first 2 examples are characters played by Ashwinis IM CRYINN should I make a post? Obviously I need more data but stillll I'm foaming in the mouthhh.

I'm watching the Chinese drama "Falling Into Your Smile" and the most gifted character in the team of players is played by Xu Kai Ashwini Moon!! He is admired for his quickness and strategic mind.

As I'm watching I'm thinking bro reminds me of Ashwini Sun Song Kang who was in "Forecasting Love & Weather" and his character was set apart from everyone else in the workplace with his activeness and knowledgeable insights so I'm thinking ???? That's when I pulled ChatGPT cause Google ain't shit nowadays.

Ashwini is generally related to the head (Aries, and also the mind due to the connected minds of the Ashwini Kumaras), its related to ultimate speed and an active intelligence (Ashwini Moon Benedict Cumberbatch's characters Sherlock Holmes & also Doctor Strange who was the most skilled, masterful surgeon -- for example).

All these characters, though, have a one-track mind when it comes to ONE thing, and because of Ketu they tend to be unmotivated by worldly things and bad at everything else in their life. Benedict's Sherlock Holmes, for example, has no care for anything else but solving convoluted mysteries; we see his lack of interest of forming human connections or developing relationships and especially acquiring any wealth or fame for that matter. Although, because of him being exceptionally gifted, he unintentionally becomes popular but even that doesn't play into his arrogance. Very similarly to Beth Harmon.

She wasn't particularly excited about gaining recognition which came with being insanely gifted as she was. What drove her was her skill for chess, and everything else in her life was dull or painful. Much like Sherlock, as what drives him is the thrill of suspense.

Them pulling attention makes a lot of sense as Ketu is extremely absorbing of things around them whether intentional or not. Which is why they tend to play golddigging characters or characters that are generally exploitative who are intentional about draining people and things around them. It's not that Ketuvians care for wealth and recognition, it's that this planet type can be so magnetic that they pull such energies although in a rather destructive sense when it's intentional. Claire Nakti described this better in her Ketu Dominant Men video. A character who is talented and relentlessly fixed on one thing is Daniel Plainview, played by Ashwini Moon Daniel Day Lewis, who exploits people that submit to him; extracting resources, draining oils from lands he steals from others etc. using his title and power to further wrong others, perfectly fitting into the negative archetype we've seen in Ketuvians (well, this being the gold digging (or should I say oil-digging, although yes he extracts wealth too)male version of that). But with these other Ketu characters I mentioned in my post, their magnetism due to their personal talents and skills goes either unnoticed by the Ketuvian themselves or generally gets unused (which can go the other way around for exploitative means as Claire explained in-depth).

Ashwinis need something in their life to pour into so that their mind and soul is stimulated, otherwise they may fall into bad vices as their inner beast (primal nature) is hard to manage (much less tame) when they drift through life meaninglessly. They are prone to being unmotivated already. Soon as there's something to get fixed on, it's over for everyone.

I'm not sure who, I believe it was KRS Astrology, who said that Ashwini can have a concentration like no other through the midst of chaos. Ashwini energy is the most intense of the Ketu nakshatras, and it is full of too much potential, but it can only be harnessed through the individual taming it (their inner beast) to find an identity in something, which is interesting as it contrasts the theme of Mula who is able to tame outer beasts as Mula has surpassed that stage (already being one with its inner beast and primal instincts).

[nostalgebraist]

Pretty regularly, at work, I ask ChatGPT hundreds of slightly different questions over the course of a minute or two.

I don't type out these individual questions, of course. They're constructed mechanically, by taking documents one by one from a list, and slotting each one inside a sandwich of fixed text. Like this (not verbatim):

Here's a thing for you to read: //document goes here// Now answer question XYZ about it.

I never read through all of the responses, either. Maybe I'll read a few of them, later on, after doing some kind of statistics to the whole aggregate. But ChatGPT isn't really writing for human consumption, here. It's an industrial machine. It's generating "data," on the basis of other "data."

Often, I ask it to write out a step-by-step reasoning process before answering each question, because this has been shown to improve the quality of ChatGPT's answers. It writes me all this stuff, and I ignore all of it. It's a waste product. I only ask for it because it makes the answer after it better, on average; I have no other use for it.

The funny thing is -- despite being used in a very different, more impersonal manner -- it's still ChatGPT! It's still the same sanctimonious, eager-to-please little guy, answering all those questions.

Fifty questions at once, hundreds in a few minutes, all of it in that same, identical, somewhat annoying brand voice. Always itself, incapable of tiring.

This is all billed to my employer at a rate of roughly $0.01 per 5,000 words I send to ChatGPT, plus roughly $0.01 per 3,750 words that ChatGPT writes in response.

In other words, ChatGPT writing is so cheap, you can get 375,000 words of it for $1.

----

OpenAI decided to make this particular "little guy" very cheap and very fast, maybe in recognition of its popularity.

So now, if you want to use a language model like an industrial machine, it's the one you're most likely to use.

----

Why am I making this post?

Sometimes I read online discourse about ChatGPT, and it seems like people are overly focused on the experience of a single human talking to ChatGPT in the app.

Or, at most, the possibility of generating lots of "content" aimed at humans (SEO spam, generic emails) at the press of a button.

Many of the most promising applications of ChatGPT involve generating text that is not meant for human consumption.

They go in the other direction: they take things from the messy, human, textual world, and translate them into the simpler terms of ordinary computer programs.

Imagine you're interacting with a system -- a company, a website, a phone tree, whatever.

You say or type something.

Behind the scenes, unbeknownst to you, the system asks ChatGPT 13 different questions about the thing you just said/typed. This happens almost instantaneously and costs almost nothing.

No human being will ever see any of the words that ChatGPT wrote in response to this question. They get parsed by simple, old-fashioned computer code, and then they get discarded.

Each of ChatGPT's answers ends in a simple "yes" or "no," or a selection from a similar set of discrete options. The system uses all of this structured, "machine-readable" (in the old-fashioned sense) information to decide what to do next, in its interaction with you.

This is the kind of thing that will happen, more and more.

[beethefallen]

making fun of people(especially children) for using chatgpt for their emotional support and "therapy" instead of providing them the proper resources they need to get through what they're dealing with is not how you will fix society btw.

covid has devastated a lot of peoples lives, their education, their social life, their understanding of a lot of what many may consider "basic" things. the government has made it hard for children/teens/college kids to know where to get resources or to have places to hang out with friends or even find friends at all.

instead of yelling at people, who will not listen to you yelling at them btw, maybe actually be a part of the change you want to see in the world

share resources, make tutorials on things you think are basic, because i guarantee you there are a lot of people who dont understand how to do those things, share inspiration, encourage community building

a huge problem lately is that activists are going for the extreme "if you do this thing i dont agree with then i hate you and you should die" approach and what do you actually think that will accomplish? dont you think thats the exact same mindset right wingers have?

i know a lot of us are tired and that can make us angry too but do you truly think yelling and insulting and bullying will actually fix society?

this goes for. so many things and not just the AI situation but i saw a post with 80k+ notes encouraging making fun of people who rely on chatgpt for emotional support like okay how about instead of that we do something else

also before anyone asks or assumes this is not a pro ai post okay bye

[guarddog-of-proendos]

Image descriptions

- written by a visually impaired person

What is an image description?

an image description is exactly what it sounds like, a block of text describing the content of an image. this is important for many people but especially for blind and visually impaired people who cannot see the image (at least, not well enough to understand what's going on)

(people also cite that this helps people with slow internet, if you add that to this post I am hitting you on the head with a stick. our access to the internet is enough of a reason to add image descriptions, they don't have to help abled people as well.)

image descriptions serve the purpose of providing the same access to content and context in a post that you, a sighted person, have. the goal is to allow equal access for visually disabled people and other people who struggle to access images.

have you ever been stuck scrolling through Tumblr while images are refusing to load? was that frustrating? imagine how we feel every day, all the time.

How to write an image description

writing an image description is a skill. it's okay if you aren't great at it at first. not being great at it is not an excuse to not try. I'm tired of people telling me they can't be assed to try writing an image description because it might not be perfect. I would much rather read an imperfect image description than have no image description at all.

when you're describing an image the key point is to describe what's relevant, what you look at in an image. if the image is a tweet, describe what the tweet says. if the image is a picrew of an alter, describe what that alter looks like in the picrew.

You don't need to include every detail

a lot of guides will, with well intentions, tell you to describe a lot. sometimes, describing a lot is relevant. if you're describing a piece of art or photography then describing a lot is important because the point of the photo is to appreciate all of the photo. if you're taking a selfie, I truly do not care that your walls are blank and white. sometimes, more detail is less accessible. I don't want to scroll through paragraphs up on paragraphs for a photo that sighted people can just glance at and get the gist of.

take for example, this post divider I just used:

you could describe this as: a post divider with a large star in the center surrounded by a halo of the moon phase in gold. 2 horizontal lines come from it in the center with a pattern of alternating sun, moon, sun, and star symbols.

... that's really long. the point for sighted people is to break up the text with something pretty. it's not to admire all the intricacies of the image.

a more appropriate description would be: a star themed post divider

text, on the other hand, should always be transcribed in full. do not describe your DNI banner as "a DNI banner" that tells me nothing. put down all the text, all of it, because all of the text is relevant.

never use AI to write an image description! it's insulting and often inaccurate. problems with generative AI aside, throwing an image into chatGPT and then copy and pasting the sludge it spits out makes me feel like I'm not worth taking a minute to actually write an image description. AI generated image descriptions tend to be impersonal, inaccurate, and hard to follow because it just throws up all the random details it picks up on rather than describing the point of the image. with the editing required to fix a chatGPT image description you could have written your own and it would be better.

I truly cannot write an image description

ask for help. if you have no one you can directly ask, add a note to your post asking for help writing the description when you post it. when someone writes a description for you, copy and paste it into the original post. there is no such thing as image description theft, the point is accessibility. you can't steal accessibility. copy and pasting is not just okay it's encouraged!

on other people's posts (regardless of whether or not you can write an image description) you can often find image descriptions in the notes. taking a minute to check for image descriptions before reblogging an undescribed post is something fast and kind you can do for the people who need image descriptions. often you'll find a description and then hurray! that inaccessible post is now accessible!

....but I don't have any followers who need image descriptions!

yes you do.

if you truly don't it's probably because none of them can access your blog. fix that and suddenly you will have followers who need image descriptions

why is this in the pluralgang tag? none of you describe images.

Questions are encouraged

(if you have any)

[white-shadow25]

Hi, can we have an scenario with Fem!Reader and True Noah Tyki form? Like the reader (also his lover) thought that he will hurt or kill her in this form, only to be forced to cuddle with him on floor, while purring in deep and loud voice 🤭

I am so, so sorry about how long it took me to get into writing ಥ‿ಥ Honestly, I was kind of sick when the requests started coming in, I think, I'm not sure of the exact dates but it must been pretty much close to it.

Moral of the story, don't have COVID and dengue altogether, you will suffer.

(Also I wanted to thank those who sent me nice words, I've been wanting to answer since I received them but I was too weak and have been thinking about it since then but just never answer.)

Now, in more optimistic news, I write something! I translated it with the help of ChatGPT, (I write in a pretty bad Span-English most of the time) it was far more quickly than it usually takes me to translate things, and with my very limited English knowledge, I would say is fine, if you notice something's off let me know so I'll never use it again  (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Two days passed since the Ark incident. Two days in which Tyki hadn’t awakened. You stayed by his side the entire time, sitting in a chair next to his bed. You hardly slept; he didn't allow you to. Every now and then, you would hear him, and it broke your heart to see him writhing in pain in bed, his moans and groans keeping you alert.

In these two days, you hadn't been able to get rid of the oppression in your chest that’s been overwhelming you since Adam returned to the new Ark with Tyki slung over his shoulder. Your mouth had gone dry, and your stomach churned. You rushed to them, and the Earl told you what had happened in a more optimistic tone than you would have liked to hear at that moment. He left Tyki in your care, fully trusting that you could handle it alone, and then he left, leaving you with the unconscious Noah. Since then, you've stayed by his side, wiping the sweat from his face and managing to feed and give him water.

Road visited you, but you noticed something was off about her. Her movements seemed oddly calculated, her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, her voice was weak, and you were sure her hair color dulled occasionally. You deduced that she hadn't come out of the battle unscathed and was tired, whether much or little. You sent her to recover, and somewhat reluctantly, she obeyed, not without warning you to be careful, the man you were caring for so lovingly might not be your partner. After reminding you to call her or Sheryl in case of an emergency, she left.

A growl brought you back to reality. Tyki was trembling, curled up. You dampened a clean cloth in fresh water and tried to uncover his face, which he kept hidden under the blankets.

"Tyki?" you asked, leaning over him on the bed. "Love?"

The Noah's growls grew louder, and in a movement you didn't fully understand, you fell to the floor along with the chair you had been anchored to for the past two days. The blankets moved as if there were a fight underneath, and you knew what it was.

The tentacles were not new to you; you had seen them before, hours after the Earl returned with Tyki, to be exact. You had already learned not to get too close in those moments. The small cut on your right palm started to bother you—a mark that would stay as a reminder of the first incident, a visible and tangible sign of the lesson learned.

Without standing up, you slowly crawled away from the bed. You sat in the corner near the door in case you needed to leave, and with your eyes fixed on the movement of the sheets, you waited. The growls intensified, the sheets tore, and the tentacles waved, twisted, and abruptly stopped. You could see how the Noah's back slowly straightened. His hair, now long, cascaded from his shoulders, and you couldn't help but shiver. The cold silence of the room chilled your bones. Your trembling fingers tried to grip the wooden floor, scratching it. In a blink, the Noah's figure towering above you.

And you could see his golden eyes. Those eyes you had seen thousands of times before, the same eyes that not long ago looked at you with the love and tenderness of the most devoted lover, now stared at you coldly and expressionlessly. This wasn’t Tyki.

You automatically understood the situation. You scanned the room frantically with your gaze, looking for Lero, but he wasn't there. Your breath caught, your heart stopped, and you bit your lips to stifle the small sob that fear had left in your throat.

You slipped a hand under the skirt of your dress; you had some talismans hidden in your stockings for emergencies, thinking, you could stop Joyd long enough to find Lero and improvise from there.

With a rough shove, the Noah pulled you from the corner and dragged you to the carpet in the center of the room while you took out the talismans and hid them in your sleeve. Before you could even remember the spell to use them, Joyd straddled you, a predatory smile on his lips and a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He leaned closer, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and inhaled deeply. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. You could see his posture relax, starting with the muscles in his shoulders followed by his back. He rested his forehead on your shoulder and slid his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly and nuzzling into your chest.

You waited for him to do something else, but that something never came.

"Tyki?" you asked again. Your shoulders tensed involuntarily when you heard him growl. "Joyd!" you corrected yourself immediately. "Joyd, Joyd," you repeated. "I'm sorry."

He nuzzled against you a bit more, and you couldn't help but giggle. Moved by tenderness, you hugged him back, and you could swear he started to purr.

It wasn't Tyki who controlled the body, but it was his body, and you remembered this when moved by instinct, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead before cuddling him to your chest. His body was so familiar that touching it felt easy, natural, right.

You stayed embraced for a while, the tik-tok of the clock and the loud growls of Joyd lured you to rest until he lifted his face slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. And there it was. They were still the same golden eyes but now shone with an affection you knew by heart.

"Name?" Tyki asked in a husky voice. His eyes were half-closed, like someone who had just woken up.

"Yes?" you whispered, holding his gaze, your voice a fragile and warm murmur. A sound that felt comforting in the cold silence of the dark room.

He buried his face in your chest again. "Nothing," he sighed. He was too tired and in too much pain to think. The warmth and comfort of your embrace kept him sleepy and calm.

You slid a hand through his hair, lulling him, while the other traced circles on his back.

"I'm glad to hear you again."

[strangevynl]

slipping through the cracks | k.sm x afab!reader. angst

Authors note: was bored so I asked ChatGPT for a prompt to write so here :)

Seungmin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of the air conditioning his only company. The hours had drifted by as he stared at the clock on the wall, each tick a cruel reminder of the time slipping away. His heart ached with a heaviness he couldn’t quite explain, a sensation that had become all too familiar in recent weeks.

His phone buzzed softly on the table beside him, but he ignored it, unable to muster the energy to check the messages. They were from her—always from her. He had been avoiding her calls, avoiding her messages, because he didn’t know how to face her after everything.

The relationship had started out with such promise, their connection seemingly effortless. But as the months went by, cracks had begun to show. Seungmin had been consumed by his responsibilities, his career, and the pressure of living up to expectations. She had been patient, understanding, always supporting him even when it seemed he was drifting further away.

But one evening, as they sat together in their favorite café, the conversation had turned into a confrontation. She had tried to voice her feelings, her frustration at the way he had been shutting her out. Seungmin, overwhelmed and defensive, had reacted poorly, his words sharper than he intended. The argument ended with her walking out, leaving behind an air of unspoken goodbyes.

The days following the argument were a blur. He had wanted to reach out, to apologize, but something held him back. His pride? His fear of admitting he was wrong? Perhaps it was both. And now, the thought of facing her after everything was unbearable. He knew the damage had been done, that the hurt was deep, but he wasn’t sure if it was too late to fix it.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. His heart raced, a mix of hope and dread. He opened the door to find her standing there, looking tired but resolute. Her eyes met his, a silent storm of emotions passing between them.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I needed to talk.”

Seungmin nodded, stepping aside to let her in. They sat across from each other, the silence heavy between them. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and it cut through him like a knife.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know how to handle everything. I thought I could keep going without acknowledging how much I was hurting you.”

She looked down, her fingers twisting nervously. “I understand you have your responsibilities, Seungmin. But when you shut me out, it felt like you were choosing everything else over me. Over us.”

He reached out, gently touching her hand. “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was scared, and I let my fear control my actions. I should have been honest with you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she met his gaze. “I needed you to be there for me, just like I’ve always tried to be there for you. I’m not sure if we can go back to how things were, but I needed you to know how much you hurt me.”

Seungmin’s heart ached with the weight of her words. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance.”

She took a deep breath, her tears falling freely now. “I need time to think. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I hope we can find a way to heal from this.”

As she turned to leave, Seungmin felt a pang of desperation. “I’ll wait for you,” he said quietly. “No matter how long it takes.”

The door closed behind her, and Seungmin sat alone once more, the silence in the room now filled with the promise of change and the hope of redemption. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was ready to face it, determined to rebuild what had been broken and to fight for the love that still lingered in his heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the silence between Seungmin and her became a constant, aching presence in his life. Each day he struggled to balance his responsibilities and the lingering sense of loss. The guilt weighed heavily on him, a reminder of the words left unspoken and the hurt he had caused.

Seungmin threw himself into his work, hoping that by immersing himself in his career, he could drown out the pain. But no matter how busy he was, the thoughts of her lingered, each memory a sharp reminder of the love he had nearly lost.

One evening, as he was walking home from the studio, Seungmin spotted her sitting alone on a park bench. The sight of her took him by surprise, and his heart skipped a beat. She looked up as he approached, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve.

“Seungmin” she said, her voice steady but soft.

He took a seat beside her, the familiar warmth of her presence both comforting and painful. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said quietly.

She nodded, looking out at the darkening sky. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About us. About everything that happened.”

Seungmin’s heart pounded in his chest. “And?”

She took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I’ve realized that I can’t keep holding onto the hurt. It’s consuming me, and it’s not fair to either of us. I need to forgive you, not just for your sake, but for my own.”

Seungmin felt a wave of relief mixed with trepidation. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to make amends. I know I can’t undo the past, but I want to show you that I’m willing to change.”

She turned to him, her eyes searching his face. “It’s not just about changing, Seungmin. It’s about understanding. I need to know that you’re willing to prioritize us, not just when it’s convenient but when it’s hard too.”

He nodded earnestly. “I understand. I’ve been selfish, and I see now that love is more than just words. It’s about actions, and I’m ready to show you through mine.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but I do want to try. I want to see if we can find a way back to each other, but it’s going to take time.”

Seungmin reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I’m willing to wait. I’ll be here, doing everything I can to earn back your trust and show you that I value what we have.”

They sat in silence, the cool breeze carrying the sounds of the city around them. For the first time in weeks, Seungmin felt a glimmer of hope. It was the beginning of a new chapter, one where healing and understanding would be the foundation.

As they stood to leave, Seungmin glanced at her with a newfound determination. “Thank you for giving us a chance,” he said softly.

She nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Let’s take it one day at a time.”

As they walked away from the park, side by side but not yet entirely together, Seungmin felt a cautious optimism. The road ahead was uncertain, but he was ready to navigate it, step by step, with the hope of rekindling the love they once shared.

©️strangevynl

🏷️ : none yet

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I've been using an ai called "claude" a lot. I asked it how to do something in python, and it patiently explained it to me. When my code didn't work, I showed it my code and it told me what mistake I made. Then I fixed the mistake and it worked. This feels insanely cool and useful to me. Also, when I asked claude if you could infuse garlic into olive oil without heat, it said "maybe, but it's not recommended because you might get botulism." Maybe it's just google gemini specifically that sucks?

I've found far more uses for genAI in my personal projects than I have found professionally, because there are no stakes to my personal projects. Sure, genAIs can sometimes be very helpful! But all of them - Claude, Gemini, ChatGPT, Copilot, whatever else might be out there at this point - can be wrong. And their wrong answers look exactly like their right answers.

This is fine, if you're just coding from home, or creating French lessons for yourself, or whatever. But if my boss is going to see what I'm making, then I'm doing it myself, or I'm spending so much time fact-checking the AI output that I might as well have done it myself.

Maybe in another five years this technology will have become reliable enough that the time saved by using it isn't completely offset by the risk of it hallucinating something and making you look like an absolute fucking jackass in front of your VP, or your customer. But we're not there yet.