#I can’t binge this one like I have others. I need time to process

[bendy-n-stuff]

Not gonna lie I just started this and the implications it’s giving is… man

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the final girl - matt/chris sturniolo

warnings: heavy on the MDNI, stalking, chasing, oral, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, knife play, degradation/praise, talks of death, blood

spoilers for the scream movies if you’ve never seen them

a/n: hi! welcome to my blog, I hope you stay a while. I have a big passion for writing so i’m excited to start writing for this fandom.

wc: 6.7k

It was late.

Way too late for any woman to be walking around by herself, past dark alleyways and businesses that had long since closed for the night, however you just needed to clear your head, go for a quick little walk to get your mind off some things, and get a few extra steps in after a particularly lazy day at home binge watching your favorite show.

It wasn’t often that you walked around late at night, due to the potential dangers of it, but you also weren’t particularly afraid of it either, being comfortable with the area you lived and your level of self defense (although most of it was blind confidence, you’d never taken a self defense class in your life), so tonight felt no different than the other times that you had gone on a late night walk, except for maybe the fact that it had started to get slightly chillier out, prompting you to throw on a hoodie that came past the hem of your pajama shorts that had been on since the night before.

Typically you would have airpods in while you walked, but tonight you felt more like enjoying the sounds of night life chattering in the distance as the background noise for your walk, and that’s exactly what you heard as you kept a steady pace through the slightly busier side of town. Bars, restaurants, liquor stores, all littered up and down the streets, some with a few customers, and some completely blacked out. The only part that sent a small shiver down your spine every time you walked past one, was the dark, dimly lit or completely pitch black alleyways that seemingly dragged on for miles.

It wasn’t necessarily a fear, but the thought of being dragged into an alleyway and stabbed or brutally beaten had always been a nagging thought at the back of your mind on these walks. Maybe you had died in an alleyway in a past life. Regardless, you push through the small voice in your head that makes you step a little quicker every time you pass by.

It’s close to 30 minutes into your walk, zoned in as ever, when you feel a buzz in your back pocket, and the feeling rips you out of the deep thought you were having, using your hands to push up your hoodie to reach the butt pocket in your shorts, grabbing your phone and seeing an unknown caller on the screen. You furrow your brow and send it to voicemail, telling yourself if it was important, they’d leave a message, your thought process for any unknown caller.

However, this seemed a little different than a typical unknown number calling, as instead of seeing the voicemail start to pour in, you just see the call trying to come through another time, and again, you hit the red button on your screen, declining the call.

“Can’t be that important,” you mutter under your breath, about to put your phone back into your pocket, when it starts to buzz for a third time, making your heart start to pick up pace slightly. Who would be trying to reach you at such an ungodly hour? Why were they trying so desperately to reach you?

Your finger hovered over the decline button again, but something in you told you to accept the call. What if it was an emergency? What if a family member was in the hospital and they were trying to reach you? What if a friend was in jail and needed you to bail them out? Too many thoughts bounced around inside your head, but eventually you chalked it up to your anxiety getting the best of you, and you pressed down, declining the call again.

You stared down at your phone, stopping completely in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, waiting for another phone call to ring through your phone, but after waiting for a solid minute with no attempts at a call, you assume the caller is done bothering, and put your phone back in your pocket, quickening your pace in an attempt to get home a little quicker than usual.

It’s no more than two minutes later that your phone starts to buzz in your pocket again, and this time, it makes you completely freeze in your tracks. Again? you think to yourself, slowly reaching back and grabbing your phone once more, looking at the same number on the screen trying to reach you. Surely it has to be important if somebody is trying this hard, so with a bit of reluctance and a faster heartbeat than you’d like to admit, you swipe your phone across the screen and hold it up to your ear.

“Hello?” You speak, voice quieter than normal.

“Hi,” the voice on the other end drawls out in a slightly robotic, yet still human voice.

“Who am I speaking with?” You retort.

“I could ask the same question,” the voice replies.

This is weird, you think to yourself.

“You called me, so who is this?” Your voice raises slightly as you get annoyed with the situation. First this person has the nerve to call in the middle of the night, and now they won’t even disclose who they are.

“Woah, you’re feisty. I like that. You got a boyfriend?”

You pause. “Do I- what?!” The exasperation is clear in your voice, a slight panic filling your chest.

“You heard me. You got a boyfriend?” He repeats, a smirk evident in the way he spoke.

You remain silent on the line for a moment, looking around to see if anybody was nearby to overhear this conversation, but there was nobody in your line of sight no matter which direction you looked. “Yes,” fell from your lips before you could stop yourself. “I have a boyfriend.”

The man, or person rather, you weren’t too sure, made a pouting sound on the other end of the call, clearly dejected by your answer. “What a shame,” he starts. “I was hoping I could have you all to myself.”

The words that left his mouth is what really set off your panic, your heart racing in your chest as you started to move again, wanting more than ever to just get home and crawl into bed where you knew you were safe, because right now you felt anything but safe, too exposed in the nighttime air.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number, have a good night,” you tell them, pulling your phone away from your ear to finally hang up and rid yourself of this interaction, but just as you’re about to end the call, you hear shouting coming from it, the person still yelling at you despite your efforts to end the call. Slowly, you pull it back to your ear, hoping he doesn’t know you’re still listening, but somehow, he knows, chuckling into the speaker.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he taunts. “You wanna play a game?”

Fuck, you think. There’s no way this was who you thought it was, right? Those were just movies, and killers like that don’t exist in the real world. Besides, who would be dumb enough to be a copycat killer with such a popular character? It would be stupid to think that you could possibly get away with trying to be Ghos-

“Hello?! Did you not hear me, slut? I said… do you want to play a game?” The voice bellows, getting more aggressive now.

“W-what kind of game?” You stutter out, your eyes frantically looking for a soul to share this terrifying moment with. But still, there was nobody around, nobody to be a witness. The sinking feeling that you might die, completely alone in the middle of the night, and probably in a stupid fucking alleyway floods your body, understanding how dire this situation is about to get.

“Do you like scary movies?”

The question was way too fitting for the breezy October air, but nowhere near cool enough to cause the goosebumps that arose on your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, curiosity evident in his tone.

You decide to push your luck, and see how far this can go, see who’s really behind the voice on the other end. “You ever heard of the Stab movies?” You ask.

He laughs. He knows you know now. But he doesn’t seem to mind that his cover is blown. “Wow, that’s a creative answer. I’ve heard of them,” he says.

You know that the Stab movies were just fictional, based on the stories of those in the Scream movies, but in reality, Scream was your favorite scary movie. It wasn’t too gory or scary, just the perfect amount of thriller to keep you on the edge of your seat, and truthfully, you always kind of had a thing for Ghostface, which is exactly why you’re still here on the phone, entertaining whoever is on the other end.

“Well, that’s my favorite movie. Are we done playing games now?” You’re more than ready to be back home now, but a part of you isn’t ready for this call to be over just yet. You wanna know if he’s gonna want to do trivia, just like the real Ghostface.

“The game hasn’t even started,” he begins. “Play with me, will you?” His voice is soft, almost begging. You would never admit it out loud, but it made you swallow a little harder than usual, and the feeling of your quickening heartbeat fell between your legs. Curse this Ghostface kink.

“O-okay,” you agree. “Let’s play.”

“Great. How about a warm up question? Who’s the killer in the original Scream movie?” He shoots out the first question like he’s reading it off of a script.

“Easy! It’s Billy Loomis, and don’t think I’ll fall for your trick question, Stu Macher is the other killer,” you proudly say, perhaps a little too loudly, but there was still nobody around to hear you boasting about your favorite movie killers.

He seems almost proud when he answers, like you’ve impressed him more than he’d like to admit. “Good job. Now we’ll play for real.”

“What?!” You exclaim. “I got that one right, that counts.”

“No, it was a warm up.” He’s determined to not count this question as a legitimate turn. “If you get this one right, you get to walk away.”

You’re overly confident in your knowledge of the Scream movies, so even though you’re not really sure what is going on at the moment, you’re almost positive you’ll get this question right and win whatever this game was, ending the conversation and letting you finally go home in peace. “And if I lose?” You dare to ask.

His reply is quick though. “If you lose, I get to wear your insides as a fucking necklace.”

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears at the words, worry finally filling your head as you realize this was a lot more serious than you had initially thought. There was no way this guy was serious, but standing alone in the middle of the street at almost 2am, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was completely serious, and if a trivia question was the way your life would end.

“I don’t think I want to play this game anymore,” tears filled your eyes as you spoke, voice raising in pitch as your throat started to get tight. “Please just let me go home.”

He doesn’t respond to this with words, only a small chuckle before he speaks again. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“My name?” You choke out. “Why do you want to know?”

He pauses.

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

It’s in this moment that you look to your right, realizing you’re stopped at the end of an alleyway, right at the driveway, and staring down the dark hall of the alley, you see a dark figure standing in the middle of it, phone held up to their ear, Ghostface mask the only thing visible in the one working light that shines down on their face.

“Holy fuck,” you panic, immediately turning the other way and running down the alley across the street, opposite the one the figure stood in. “Help!” You cry out, phone call long forgotten as you pump your arms to try and run quicker. It seems to be to no avail as you hear loud footsteps quickly approaching behind you, and you start to feel all hope draining from your body as the killer got closer.

It’s not long before you’re getting slammed up a brick wall, knocking the breath out of you as you come face to face with your favorite movie killer, however this wasn’t a movie, this was real life, and you were truly and utterly fucked.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg once you get your breath back, trying to shove them away, but your efforts failed. One arm was held across your chest, and the other was holding a large blade up to your throat. “I promise, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me.”

He laughs in your face, and the classic Ghostface voice is still there despite the phone call being over. The voice changer must be built into the fucking mask, and you couldn’t help but think how hot this would’ve been in any other situation. Except… part of you was still slightly turned on, even though your life was in jeopardy. “I’m going to do a lot more than hurt you,” he threatens. “Now tell me. How does Amber die in Scream 5?”

God, he’s still quizzing you? Even with a knife to your throat? The good thing is, you’ve seen these movies so many times, you know you can pull this without even thinking.

“She… she lights herself on fire, on a stove.” You choke out, looking up into the eyes of the mask. You almost let a smirk take over your face, but then you feel the blade press harder, and it makes your eyes widen.

“Wrong,” he taunts, leaning his face closer to yours. “She survives the fire and gets shot in the head.”

No, you think. No, there’s no way I’m wrong. Until you realize, he’s right. You have to shoot them in the head, or they come back. Fuck.

“Wait! Ask me another question, I can get it right I swear!” You’re squirming against his grip now, tears evidently streaming down your face. You know what happens in this part of the movie. The brutal stabbing, the guts hanging out, the killer getting away with it. It was over, and you were no doubt a dead man walking.

“Too late! You’re wrong!” He yells, moving his arm that lay across your chest and putting his hand on your shoulder, applying pressure to push you towards the ground, and the shove had forced you to fall on your knees, no doubt ripping them up with the uneven ground you now rested on. Your eyes looked up towards the masked figure, eyebrows contorted in confusion. This was not how the movies went at all, but a part of you was getting slightly warmer at the thought of what was about to happen, thighs clenching together around nothing.

“I-I’m sorry, I panicked and said the wrong answer,” you say in a quiet voice, still staring up at him through your lashes. From the position you were now in, you assumed you and the killer were on the same page, and you reached out to rest your hands on his thighs, separated by the cloak he wore and the jeans that lay atop his skin. “Please let me make it up to you.”

The tone shifts. No longer were you scared for your life, but you were excited for what was about to ensue. Sure, maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done, and maybe it’ll be the last thing you ever do, but you wanted to go out with a bang, and this was definitely a bang.

As he fails to respond, you take that as your approval and start to move his cloak up, pulling it over your head and completely covering yourself with it so you, too, were underneath it, almost completely hidden from view apart from your bare knees touching the ground. The only thing separating you now was the normal clothes that lay underneath, and you reach your hands up to the button of his jeans, skillfully yet slowly popping it open, pulling the zipper down after it. Keeping the pants completely pulled up, just slightly undone, you move your hand downwards and palm over the hardness under the hard fabric, realizing that he was having just as much fun as you were. Besides, who could turn down a free blowjob from a pretty girl in a dark alleyway?

Deciding you were ready to take this on, you push your hands in the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down to expose the hard member that impatiently awaited, hearing the masked killer suck in a hissed breath, still contorted by the voice changer. God, this was a fucking dream come true and you wanted to relish in every second of it that you could.

He was bigger than you expected, but just like your movie trivia confidence, you were confident you could take him, in more ways than one, and you lean forward to gently start taking the tip into your mouth, creating a suction around it that made him have to lean a hand on the alley wall to keep his balance and not fall to his knees alongside you. Once you’re comfortable with the feeling, you reach a hand up to cover what your mouth can’t reach and start pumping in time with your head movements, tongue flattening out onto the bottom of his dick, twisting your hand slightly as you moan when the tip hits the back of your throat, causing him to let out a choked moan.

“You should be fucking bleeding out in a dumpster right now, you stupid bitch,” he mumbles, but it’s in vain. You’ve got him right where you need him, and he would never admit it, but he’s living for it. The euphoria filling his veins as he focuses on the way your tongue moves on him is taking over his senses, eyes closed and head thrown back.

All you do is moan in response as you continue your pace, feeling your own arousal creeping up inside your pajama shorts, wishing you could reach down and relieve some of the pressure, but you decide to not push your luck too much. You don’t know what he would let you get away with and what he wouldn’t.

You feel him start to lose control slightly, using his hand braced on the wall as leverage as he starts to move his hips forward, fucking your mouth lightly at first, but quickly picking up pace as he realizes that you can take a lot more than you’re letting on, not stopping even when your hands fly up to his hips and you gag around his cock abusing your throat, using it as a fuck toy. However, your hands don’t push him away, just grasp on so you have something to ground yourself in the moment.

Suddenly, the rough pace stops, and he pulls the cloak from over you and looks down and your fucked out face, day old mascara running down your cheeks, drool dripping down your chin as your mouth hangs open while you try to catch your breath. It’s a beautiful sight to him, and he can’t get enough. He pushes your head against the brick wall, a big more aggressive than needed, but not hard enough to hurt you, and uses his other hand to slap his cock against your cheek lightly before letting out a breathless laugh.

“Stand up, slut. Wanna see how wet you are for me,” he demands, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling you up, not giving you time to focus on the ache in your knees from the position you were in. But you eagerly got up anyway, returning to your face to face positioning. Swallowing thickly, you finally catch your breath as you stare back into the eyes of the mask, but it’s dark in this alley that you can’t see the eyes behind it.

“I’m so wet, please touch me. It hurts. I need you to touch me,” you beg, his hand still tangled in your hair while the other one is still wrapped around the handle of a blade. You knew the begging was risky, not knowing what his plans were with you, but you decided to try it anyway, not giving yourself much time to talk yourself out of it.

He doesn’t reply just yet, only takes his wielded weapon and slowly moves it under your hoodie, sliding the blade down your stomach, the cold, pointed tip pressed hard enough to cause goosebumps to prickle your skin, but not enough to break skin. Not yet.

He drags it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, knife touching your soaked pussy momentarily before he shoves it down and slices a hole right through both layers of your clothes, creating a gash large enough for whatever he had planned for you. The autumn air rushed over your wetness, causing you to try and clench your legs shut, but you quickly relaxed your knees when you realized the knife was still hanging between your thighs, not wanting to risk cutting yourself. It was a vulnerable position, one that should be terrifying, but it just made you more desperate to be touched.

Slowly he pulled the knife from your shorts, reaching back to slide it in the waistband of his jeans so both of his hands were free to touch you, and once his right hand was rid of the blade, he brought it to the hole in your shorts and ran a finger through the smooth slit of your pussy, gliding easily from how wet you already were. It was a fucked situation, but it had you worked up beyond belief. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this wet prior to even being touched before.

“All of this for me?” He breaks the silence for a first time in the while, causing a whimper to leave your mouth as he kept playing with you lightly, not dipping his fingers where you needed them the most right now, barely grazing over the folds covering your clit. The teasing was making you crazy, but you were too scared to tell him what to do, or even to reach out and touch him while you were face to face. You felt completely at his mercy; and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Tell me, pretty girl. How bad do you want me right now?” He asks, leaning his masked face in closer to yours. You swore you almost hear his real voice underneath the voice changer, but brush it aside and focus on the Ghostface voice you know and love, finally opening your mouth to speak, heavy breathing accompanying your words.

“I don’t want you, I need you so bad, please put your fingers inside me, I need it. I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you beg, voice cracking as you realize tears are streaming down your face, but you don’t know if you’re crying because you’re terrified or because you’re just so fucking desperate.

He chuckles as he slides two fingers in between your folds, dragging your wetness to your clit for a moment and rubbing there, finally relieving some of the pressure. Your head falls back against the rough brick wall of the alleyway as you let out a loud moan, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit nearly making your knees give out from that alone. “You sound so good making those noises for me, slut. I can’t wait to have you screaming for me.”

He finally pushes his two fingers back and dips them inside of you with no resistance, your body accepting them more than willingly, and you both let out a moan at the feeling, your back arching away from the wall as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cry out, unable to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing his left bicep, needing something to latch on to in the moment. Your left leg comes up and finds purchase on a pipe that ran along the wall, giving him more access to your dripping core. “Your fingers feel so good,” you’re breathless as you speak. “Please don’t stop.”

His fingers start a quick pace inside of you, pumping in and out while also curling them inside, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he pleasured you. He was enjoying this almost as much as you were. “God, you’re so loud. You sound so fucking hot.” He praises you, clearly turned on by the way you’re crying out for him.

He halts for a moment with his fingers deep inside of you, making you pull your head up from the wall and look down at his fingers before you look up at him, confusion clear on your face. “Why’d you st- oh!” You moan out and throw your head back again, hand gripping harder on his bicep as he starts to move his hand back and forth now, palm pressed firmly on your clit as he fingers you rapidly, causing your first orgasm of the night to rip out of you with a scream, body shaking and barely able to stand up straight. Although this orgasm was different. It was harder, more intense, and you realize you’re still cumming as he keeps pumping his fingers inside of you, hot liquid pouring out of your already dripping pussy and draining down your legs, creating a puddle underneath you where you stand.

He pulls his fingers out of you when he’s had enough and drags them over your swollen clit, making your body jerk when he starts rubbing it quickly, overstimulating you and causing a tiny bit more liquid to pour out. You cry and use your left hand to push his away from you, not being able to take anymore.

But he doesn’t care if you had time to collect yourself or not, and he’s pulling his cloak up to unveil his still hard cock, desperately waiting to fuck you senseless until you couldn’t even stand up straight anymore. “I’m not done with you,” he reveals. “You think I’m just going to let you cum one time and walk away? No. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t fuck anybody else without thinking about me and wishing I was there to fucking ruin you all over again.”

You breathed heavily as you looked at him, or rather the mask that hid the man that was absolutely draining you of any energy you had left for the night, a fucked out expression already adorning your face. “I was hoping you weren’t done,” you breathed out, letting a smirk fall on your features briefly.

“Don’t get fucking mouthy,” he growls, grabbing your leg that was perched up on the wall and slinging it around his waist, using his other hand to guide his cock to your entrance, teasing briefly before shoving inside of you, bottoming out on the first thrust. You screeched at the feeling, using both hands now on each bicep to grip onto him for some sort of leverage, needing to ground yourself somewhere.

“Oh my fucking god!” You cry out, tears filling your eyes, a mixture of the pleasure and the stretch. You weren’t always sex crier, but sometimes when it felt particularly overwhelming, you couldn’t help a few tears from falling.

He doesn’t wait long before he starts thrusting inside of you, low grunts leaving his lips and traveling through the mask, turning you on even more. “God, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly. “I can’t believe you’re so turned on by a fucking serial killer. You’re a freak, you know that? I should kill you and leave your body here just like this so everyone knows you died a stupid fucking slut.”

Your jaw was slung open, eyes half lidded as you stared at the mask in front of you, barely able to comprehend the words spilling from his mouth, but the words that stuck in your brain made you even hornier. He was right, you were a freak. This should be anything but sexy, but to you it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. “You could kill me…” you start, smiling lightly as you speak. “And my last words would be thank you.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin was the only thing to be heard aside from the heavy breathing and moans coming from both of you.

He grunts in response, bringing his left hand that isn’t holding your leg down to your clit, rubbing quickly in time with his thrusts, making you whimper loudly, throwing your head back against the harsh brick wall. “Fuck!” You nearly scream.

The feeling of both was far too much, your second orgasm slamming into you like a truck, your hands reaching down to his hips to push him out of you, your head shooting up to look down at where you gushing again, a second time for the night. Your thighs shook as you struggled to hold yourself up, moans still leaving your lips as your orgasm faded, turning into soft whimpers. “I-I can’t, I’m done.” Your voice is shaky, eyes barely able to stay open as you bring them up to look into the eyes of the mask.

He laughs. Not a chuckle, he full on laughs, throwing his head back in time with the heavenly sound leaving his mouth. “You’re done?” He questions, looking back towards you. You had black tear tracks running down your bright red cheeks, your lips were puffy from biting on them, and he couldn’t tell if it was drool or precum all over your chin; probably both. “I don’t remember you being in charge.”

Keeping your leg wrapped around his waist, he uses his left hand to reach into his back pocket, the one across from the blade still resting comfortably, and dips into it, coming back out with a piece of fabric. You weren’t sure what it was, but when he unfolds it and holds it up to you, you realize it’s a thin, long piece of fabric.

A blindfold.

“Be a good girl for me and close your eyes,” he whispers in your ear, and all you could do was obey. Your eyes fluttered shut, realizing that your trust was fully in this man. He really could do anything he wanted to you now, and you wouldn’t be able to see it coming.

His hands come up and tie the blindfold behind your head, making sure it’s secure enough that you can’t see through the bottom, but not tight enough to hurt, not that not hurting you was particularly on the top of his priority list. “You’re so good for me,” he praises, running his thumb over your cheek, gently flitting over your bottom lip before leaving your face completely. “Can you hold this for me?”

Your hand reaches out instinctively, blinding feeling for whatever he spoke of. Something touched your hand, and you grasped your fingers around it, unable to figure out what it was, until you felt him slowly moving downwards, your leg now resting on his shoulder as he placed his hands on your thighs, squeezing them roughly. His lips dragged over the tops of your thighs, pressing lightly in soft kisses every couple of seconds, getting closer to your core where you needed his mouth the most.

Your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around his mask tangled in his hair, threading through it gently, chest heaving in anticipation. Your hips pressed forward and your back fully leaned against the wall behind you when you felt his lips finally press against your wet folds, kissing softly there before he dragged his tongue from your hole to your clit, wrapping his lips around the swollen nub and sucking roughly, hands pushing your legs farther apart for him.

Your senses were elevated with the lack of vision, tingles erupting over your whole body as he ate you out like his life depended on it. You moaned out, hands gripping his hair harder now. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “That feels so good, baby, please don’t stop.”

He only hums against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. He eats you out ruthlessly, wet noises filling your ears alongside the pounding from your racing heart. His tongue was working magic on your clit, expertly coaxing you to a third orgasm. You were so close, gently grinding your hips into his mouth, feeling the stubble around his chin creating friction between the two of you. Your thighs were aching from how hard they had been shaking, but nothing mattered except the feeling of where the two of you were connected.

“Keep going, please. I’m so close. You’re gonna make me cum again, baby.” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke.

Wanting nothing more than to rip your orgasm from you, he reached up and slid two fingers back into you while his mouth sucked on your clit, making you cry out. “Shit!” You screech, voice getting pinched as you came for a third time, knees buckling beneath you. He grabbed your hip with his free hand and held you up, while his other hand continued pumping inside you, tongue still working its magic. He swallowed the juices that flowed from your pussy, moaning at the taste.

“You taste so good,” he mutters against your skin, pulling his fingers out and dragging his lips along your thigh, nipping slightly at the goosebump covered skin. “I could eat you for hours.”

You whimper at the desperate sound of his voice, wanting nothing more than to look down and see the face looking back at you, but he stands back up to his feet, and you expect him to grab the mask from your hands and hide his face once again, but once he’s up to his feet and standing straight up, he leans forward and presses his lips to your neck, making your breath catch in your throat. He litters small kisses there, before sinking his teeth into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking a deep red mark into the skin.

You reach up and cup his own neck, tilting your head to give him further access and holding him close to you, breathing heavily as he marked his territory. “Are you done with me yet?” You whisper, afraid to speak too loud and break the moment.

“No,” he whispers back, voice free of any effects, the raw tone of his voice ringing in your ears. “Not yet.”

His demeanor changes and he grabs a fistful of your hair, pressing his lips firmly to yours in an aggressive kiss, tongue sliding past your teeth and meeting your own. But it’s short lived, and he pulls away, snatching the mask from your hand.

Moments later, the blindfold is ripped from your face and you have to blink a few times to adjust your eyes to your surroundings again. You look down and see you’re standing in a puddle of your own release, legs and feet soaked in a mixture of spit and arousal, your shorts damn near torn to shreds. You were a complete mess, and you couldn’t imagine what there was left to ruin.

He reaches back into his pocket, pulling out the blade once more and holding it up to the side of your throat. “On your knees,” he demands, using his other hand to push your shoulders down, keeping the blade firmly against your neck as you fell to your knees again.

The feeling of the blade on your neck made your heart pick up pace, knowing that he could kill you at any moment with just a flick of his wrist, but the thought just made you reel even more. He picks his hand up off of your shoulder and grabs his own cock, rubbing it over your lips lightly, breathing out at the feeling of some sort of relief after pleasuring you for so long. Your eyes stare up at him innocently, sticking your tongue out and flattening it against the bottom of his dick, allowing it to slide into your mouth with ease.

You close your lips around him and moan at the taste of you and him hitting your senses, leaning your head in as far as you can take him, but it’s not enough for him, and he pushes your head back against the wall and starts fucking your throat, moaning loudly as he did so.

He was already so close to cumming, getting so worked up at the feeling of you falling apart on his tongue, that it wasn’t going to take him much to tip over the edge himself. His blade pushed harder into your neck as he started to lose control, and you started whimpering at the feeling, not knowing how far he was going to take it, or if he even noticed he was doing it. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, hips starting to stutter as he fucked your mouth.

Moments later, he pulls his dick out of your mouth and you reach up to grab it, pumping quickly with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, graciously accepting the load that shot out of him and all over your face, even into your hair. You stroked him through his orgasm and swallowed what landed on your tongue, staring up at him as he stared down at you, small moans and almost whimpers passing through his lips.

“Stop,” he chokes out, pushing your hand away from his sensitive tip. You just laugh in response as you drop your hand to your side, slowly standing back to your feet. “Now you know how I feel,” you tell him.

You both take a moment to collect yourself and catch your breath, the heaving in your chests gradually getting calmer.

“Shit,” he mumbles, reaching up and swiping his thumb over your neck, smearing a liquid you didn’t know was there. “I cut you.”

You look down at his thumb, red substance covering it. It should’ve been a little scary, the thought of the knife actually cutting into you and you didn’t even know, but you just grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth, sucking the blood off with a quiet pop.

“I think I’ll live,” you smile at him, reaching up to rip the mask off of his face, revealing your boyfriend’s messy brown hair and bright blue eyes staring back at you. He smiles and leans in to place a kiss on your nose, pulling back quickly.

“You ready to go home? I’m exhausted,” he laughs.

You giggle a bit and take a look at the mess that the both of you are. “You’re exhausted? I don’t think I can walk home, my legs don’t work anymore.” You tell him.

He just chuckles as he buttons his pants, the knife safely tucked away into his back pocket once more. “Good thing I brought the car then. Couldn’t risk anyone seeing you walking home like this. C’mon, it’s at the end of the alley. I’ll carry you.” He leans down and scoops you up, hands covering the hole in your shorts as he walks you to the car.

“Hey,” you speak up as he sets you in the passenger seat of your shared car.

“Hm?” He replies tiredly, looking down at you from where he stood.

“Can we maybe… keep the mask? Do this again some time?” You ask him bashfully, twiddling your fingers as he spoke.

Your boyfriend laughs and leans down to kiss your cheek, then brings his lips close to your ear.

“Of course. After all, the final girl always makes the sequel.”

a/n: ……

who did you imagine?👀

dare you to read it again and imagine the other one 😇

taglist

@nathangirl3

@vamp1re-bite

[dichromaticdyke]

ALRIGHT I'LL POST MY ANALYSIS OF THE MTL JERK-OFF SCENE HERE TOO.

you're welcome @ogurizz

for reference, this is a character analysis based solely off the scene in "Writersklok" where Nathan explains their "process" to Abigail. yes, i'm serious.

nathan:

sleeping on the floor with piles of booze and drugs, not surprising there. though out of everyone who’s still asleep, he’s the only one who’s at the very least stirring, and he’s checking the time. he’s aware he has to be at least somewhat responsible for the band getting up and working, but he doesn’t want to.

then for breakfast, he’s just staring angrily at his plate of meat and eggs and potatoes. kind of unenthused, like this is the meal he used to eat in his football days just to bulk up—there’s no joy in it, it’s just routine.

the most emotion we see from him in this scene is when he’s jacking off, he looks both intense and and also like he’s VERY pent up. which i think is reminiscent of how he’s the one who craves a romantic connection the most. even though he does have casual sex, it doesn’t seem to be fulfilling him.

pickles:

passed out in his bathroom, clearly hungover and had a rough bender the night before. there’s something very lonely about it—despite them all being addicts who love to party and binge drink, pickles is still the one who does it to the most excess, and that’s so common that it’s normal for no one else to be around afterwards. they know he’ll be “fine.”

and he is, he gets his cinnamon buns, indulging in something that we know makes him very happy. his face there looks a bit happy but also a bit unsure. i mean based off the framing of this shot, it’s implied they’re all having breakfast alone. which might not be true, they all do seem like they could be together in the same room since they’re each in different areas, but that could also just speak to the familiarity they have with each other. even when they’re alone, that’s their spot.

but back to pickles, casual smirk while jacking off. not much to say except—this one’s for you pickle fuckers.

murderface:

he’s also been drinking. the way he’s positioned too, his arms crossed like they usually are reflects his typical disdain and anger that he carries through life. he can’t find a moment of peace, even when sleeping.

he’s clearly not getting enough sleep, though, likely still troubled by something, whether it’s anxiety/insecurity or nightmares about his father, and so all he has for breakfast is coffee.

again, he seems most at peace while jacking off, and he’s also really focused. we know he’s not getting as much action as the rest of the band, but he’s at least found a way to deal with it so he doesn’t get too frustrated.

toki:

funnily enough, he has the easiest time sleeping. i think that’s crazy given his TRAUMA, but he clearly has a routine he sticks to. he’s got his sleep mask on, he’s sleeping in his clothes on top of his bed like a heathen—whatever it is, he knows how to get comfortable, and honestly? probably just having a bed AT ALL is better than his childhood, so that’s all he needs.

then he has just a very simple cereal for breakfast—even though he could have anything he wants, and even though he DOES indulge at times, he prefers the simple things in many cases.

and he jacks off like a maniac: not only is he using that intense focused face he makes while coloring and texting (clearly coloring, sex, and social interaction all fire off the same synapses in his brain) but he’s also. not in his room. @supersaturnnyoomkitty and i have talked about this before and we don’t know where the hell he is in this shot. but he’s not comfortable jacking off in his room, probably because of all the creepy pictures of his parents staring at him.

skwisgaar:

my babygirl…sleeping with a bunch of groupies who he’d just spent the night with. i always think it’s interesting that he lets his groupies stay the night, i think he longs for the closeness/intimacy of sharing a bed with someone after sex, but he’d never admit it.

at breakfast, he just looks bored. he had a beer and nathan’s coffee mug and waffles, but all he’s interested in is his guitar. that’s all he’s ever truly interested in, regardless of who else may or may not be around.

and then he’s naked when he’s jacking off. because of COURSE he is. besides guitar, sex is the only thing he’s good at, he takes it very seriously, very intensely. besides guitar, it’s probably the only worth he thinks he has.

and then none of them really feel like recording. not because they’re dispassionate about music, obviously they’re not. they all care deeply about music and dethklok, even if they’re just terribly lazy. because they have gotten so used to the rockstar lifestyle that it’s easy for them to fall back on base pleasures, even when they’re all clearly suffering from loneliness or trauma, and they can just WORK ON THAT if they made music together, if they worked together as a BAND a FAMILY. but they don’t always want to, because it’s gay to care.

i spent way too much time looking at this scene to write this, i deserve recompense.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 10/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

CHAPTER TEN – AN INTERLUDE

                Pete freezes, recognizing the voice even after all these years.

                No.

                It can’t be.

                It’s coming from inside the house.

                He follows the sound into the living room, finds Ice has left the TV on, one of those cooking shows he insists on watching these days. He’s always inviting Pete to join him, but he can’t stand reality TV except… As he watches, Bradley appears and he’s in chef whites, face grim, eyes flashing in annoyance and boy is Pete familiar with that look. An angry and in charge Bradley, but this time he’s barking out orders and other people in chef whites are jumping to follow his direction, snapping out sharp 'yes chef's and then Bradley’s stepping up to his own workspace, hands and knife moving so rapidly it’s a blur.

                Then the scene changes to someone else, and he doesn’t care about them. Wants to see Bradley again. Needs to find the remote control so he can find the name of the show. Wait. Google. If Bradley is on TV then there will be information about him there as well and he can find out all the information. While he knows Ice is in touch with Bradley he also knows that Bradley has asked for him not to pass things on to Pete. He remembers begging, asking for just the confirmation that Bradley was okay. That had made Ice give in, confirm that he had found him and he was safe and well and that there were people willing to look out for him.

                It’s a subject they don’t touch. A subject they disagree on, Pete holding his word to Carole, and to Goose over everything and he remembers Ice snapping Carole is dead Mav, Bradley is alive and you’ve just broken your relationship with him. Part of him knows Ice is right, but also he can’t undo his actions, and he would rather Bradley hate him than the memory of his mother. He knows that Bradley sends Ice an email every couple of weeks, sometimes the occasional phone call, that they have a relationship of some sort, even if it isn’t a close one. He doesn’t know if Bradley ever asks about him, and he’s not about to ask Ice.

                Okay.

                Google it is.

                It’s a wealth of information. Bradley has his own restaurant in New York. Tartaruga Blu. It has a Michelin star and is likely going to get another. He’s done four different TV shows, guest starred on countless other and has just finished filming a fifth. Pete guesses he’s going to watch reality TV now, wants to start with the oldest and maybe catch up on what he’s missed of Bradley’s life. The hurt isn’t sharp, but it is a deep ache inside him, and he also knows the blame is solely on his shoulders.

…            …            …

                He’s been dwelling on it, processing and all the while binge watching reality TV featuring his godson. He fast-forwards the bits with contestants, does more googling to find out which episodes Bradley is the guest judge for other shows. Learns there’s a corner of the internet that have pages of photos because apparently Bradley is hot. At least he now knows what parts of the internet to avoid. He’s settling down to dinner, and he looks at the poached fish and vegetables with a more critical eye. Realizes Ice’s cooking is suddenly another way he’s trying to keep Bradley close to him and the pain in his chest twists a little deeper. A little harder.

                “Ice… those cooking shows you watch.”

                “Mmm.”

                “You watch them because of Bradley…”

                Ice’s head snaps up and his lips are tight, eyes cautious, then he simply nods, once.

                “He asked me not to tell you, but I said I couldn’t control what you watched on TV… but you’ve really held out on watching any type of reality TV.”

                “You could have dropped a hint!”

                “The fact that it was me watching wasn’t enough of a hint?”

                “Huh. Okay. Yeah, you have a good point. Wait. Shit. So he’s… famous I guess?”

                “Yeah. I guess he is. He borrowed against the house. Got a couple of investors. He’s got a good team of people working with him.”

                “Baby Goose all grown up…”

                “Hmm. You think about telling him why?” Ice asks, and he doesn’t need to ask what he means. This is the point of contention they always circle back to in their arguments.

                “Do you think he’d listen to me?”

                “I… I think that maybe he would now. He’s made himself his own path.”

                “I’ll think about it.”

ELEVEN

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2023 - Japan

So, because I have a hard time making big lists and choosing favourites, this my version of a superlative post, by country.

The one that had me at the first frame

If It’s With You | Kimi to Nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo

As soon as Amane appeared on screen I was gone. This damaged but confident boy had my heart from the beginning. But it was Ryuji that ended up with a bigger piece by the end. The way he saw Amane’s mask from the beginning and just went – “you don’t need to do that with me”. And the way he considered Amane’s feelings even when he wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond, or how he was feeling about all of it, was just beautiful to witness and at certain points kinda reminded of Ida.

Favourite Moment: Amane confessing and running away. Because visually it's so striking. The way he's running from the light that is Ryuji.

The one that was perfect and I never saw coming.

I Cannot Reach You | Kimi ni wa Todokanai

I think that by now at least some people know how I feel about Japanese BL. I love it so much. And for me it’s always about the characters. Whether they are the embodiment of chaos, like Aoki or they are just incredible complex and empathic humans like Ida. - Yes, I’m using Kieta Hatsukoi every chance I get- I just love the way all these characters are written and portrait.

I loved these 2 boys in equal measure all throughout the show. I might have a soft spot for Yamato, but that’s only because pining boys are my weakness.

Yamato’s back and forth in his own head about what to do would be annoying to me in any other show, but it was so well done, and we were privy to his thought process throughout that it just made me feel for him deeply. And Kakeru learning about Yamato’s feelings right away in the first episode was a great choice, because he gave the show time to make the reciprocity more believable.

Favourite Moment - The exchange of gifts at the door. I love the nervousness that the two of them are feeling in this moment.

The one where I gave in.

My Beautiful Man S2 & Eternal

Confession time. This was not love at first season for me. I don’t argue quality overall and much less the acting of the show, but it just didn’t click for me.

There were some truly great moments in the first season but there was a disconnect between my heart and my brain. This happens to me sometimes. Like I watch something that is objectively good but it doesn’t reach me.

That all changed with the second season and the film. I finally connect with Hira. Don't ask me why, I don't fully understand myself, but it happened right at the beginning of the season. I think perhaps it was because I started seeing more from Kiyoi pov, because before I was absolutely clueless about what he saw in Hira in the first place. Sorry if that sounds harsh.

I don't blame the show for this, as I said, I think all the elements are there, it just didn't connect for me.

Also, the film was gorgeous to watch. Several moments (specially the sequence where the gif is from) were so well shot and edited that I'm happy I went in already with a positive mindset.

Favourite Moment: The one from the gif. I'm a sucker for a drastic visual change when the moment calls for it.

The one that had me question if watching it was good for my mental health.

Tokyo in April is | Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

Ok. I love this show. I love Ren. But this was a hard watch for me. Every week I had a struggle between two sides of me.

- Don’t watch it. It will be sad and you will be sad because of it. - But the last one was sad so I need to watch it to see if there’s happy. - Why not just wait? - Because I started already, so now I can’t wait. - But in this case binging is best. Cause for sure the ending is happy so you won’t be sad for long. - Yeah, but I need to see more now. And there’s a new episode waiting for me. - Fine. Just press play. After the episode. - I really shouldn’t watch this one live. (all this repeats the following week)

It was beautifully acted, there were some outstanding moments, the past was as tastefully done as it could be given the subject matter, and in the end my heart of full, but slightly damaged with the process.

Favourite Moment: Ren finding out Kazuma had been looking for him.

The one with all the magic.

What Did You Eat Yesterday? | Kinou Nani Tabeta? S2

I already wrote how this show made me feel in another post. So I’ll just say this.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO WATCH THIS SHOW. NOW. If you haven’t, stop reading this and go. GO. NOW. Start.

There is magic here and you don’t even know.

Favourite Moment: ALL OF THEM. But really this one.

Shiro. Just Shiro.

Well, I'll try to write the next one in these next couple of days. Wish me luck.

Thanks for reading💜

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 5

Chapter 5 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie and Evan decide to get married, so Eddie can go off to war. Evan has to deal with being a parent alone, with Helena judging his parenting. Not to mention Eddie getting send back injured.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slowburn)

Warnings: ableism, emotionally abusive parents, insecurity, homophobia

~~~

Chapter 5: Mr. & Mr. Convenience

They’ve run over the numbers an unholy amount of times. If Evan’s senior year math teacher saw him now, she’d have a surprised induced medical emergency with the amount of calculations he’s done. No matter how they count, Eddie is right. He’s going to have to re-enlist.

When the reality sinks in, Evan feels a fear grip his throat and softly he asks: “What’s going to happen to me and Chris if you do? You know your mom is never going to let me stay with him.”

A part of him thinks, this is it. I have finally overstayed my welcome and Eddie is going to leave to fight a war and Chris will go to his grandparents and I am no longer useful. It hurts, these past few years have been hard, but they’ve been so good too. He doesn’t want to lose the best family he has ever had over medical bills, but it seems like that will be his life.

Before his thoughts can spiral into anything more depressing, Eddie says: “They can’t do shit if you’re his legal guardian. We can do paperwork about that, right?”

“You want me to adopt Chris?” Evan has to check, because that can’t be right. This is the part where people leave, not where people pull him closer.

“Do you- do you not want to? I mean, you don’t have to, I get-” Eddie stutters, suddenly realizing just what he is asking Evan to do. He has already done so much, it keeps surprising him every day that he is still here.

“Of course I want to,” Evan cuts him off. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Evan, you’re basically his other dad. This will only make it official,” Eddie tells him as seriously and heartfelt as he can. He still isn’t great at emotions, but for Evan, for his family, he’s willing to try.

“Thank you,” Evan says, hugging him close, despite the awkward angle and the table digging into both their stomachs.

“No, thank you,” Eddie replies, glad that Evan starts crying so he doesn’t have to explain his own moist eyes.

He leaves Evan to go on a research binge about how to best tackle this, while he sits back, mentally trying to process what re-enlisting will mean. He’s going to have to say goodbye to Chris again. It seems even more difficult than it had been the first time around. They’re going to have to let his parents help again too.

As much as Eddie wishes he could, he knows Evan can’t take care of Chris by himself when he is gone. He is already doing way too much by trying. But Eddie is sure that if he lets Chris go to his parents now, he’ll never get him back. He can’t allow that to happen.

That helpless frustrated feeling is back and Eddie hates it. He needs to move. He wants to run away, but that isn’t possible. So, he makes a pot of coffee instead, it is already a late night and it’ll probably become a later one. He is used to it, but Evan is going to need the caffeine.

His own coffee is black, but Evan takes his with two sugars and way too much milk. Eddie thinks it is not how coffee is supposed to be drunk. No one likes the bitter taste, you just have to get used to it. However, he makes Evan his version of coffee without complaint.

When the coffee is done, he puts Evan’s mug next to him, taking a sip of his own as he leans his hand on the table, taking his place behind Evan’s chair to look over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, though not actually reading anything as he asks: “So, what did you find?”

Evan rubs his face with his hands as he takes a break from staring at the screen. He says: “All of them take a long time, too long for the timeline we’re working on with those bills. Unless you want to get married.”

Eddie can admit later that he chokes on the sip of coffee. However, he recovers in record time and actually thinks about it. He and Evan are a lot like a married couple when he thinks about it. They live together, raise a kid together, even sleep in the same bed (albeit practically never at the same time). He’s not gay and Evan has never mentioned being gay either, but you don’t have to be in love to be married. His marriage with Shannon wasn’t entirely out of pure love either. It’ll just be for convenience.

“Alright,” he says after a beat. “Let’s get married.”

“What? Are you serious?” Evan exclaims, giving Eddie wide eyes. He won’t mind being married to Eddie, even if it’s just so he can adopt Chris, but he never thought Mr. Toxic Masculinity Was My Childhood would go for it.

“Yeah, it’s legal right? And it’s the easiest. They don’t actually check if you fuck when you get married and take it from me, being divorced isn’t the end of the world either,” Eddie tells him.

A little feeling that Evan has been refusing to name feels a little crushed at the word ‘divorce’, but he doesn’t let it get to him. They’re friend. Best friends. And co-parents. He would withstand a lot for Chris, and it isn’t exactly a hardship to be married to Eddie. So he says: “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Let’s get married.”

“Cool,” Eddie smiles at him.

“Really? Cool?” Evan guffaws, playing it up to make Eddie laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll marry someone if their proposal consists of ‘cool,’ I’ll have you know.”

Eddie does, in fact, laugh, before dramatically dropping on one knee and saying: “Evan will you do me the honor of giving me tax benefits and parenting breaks.”

“You’re a fucking dork,” Evan informs him gleefully, though he’s unable to stop himself from blushing either.

“Is that an I do?” Eddie asks, leaning in and suddenly much closer than he has ever been.

Evan feels a little breathless as he nods: “Yeah, I- I guess it was.”

“Great,” Eddie smiles, then pulls back as he gets back up, groaning as he does so.

“You’re twenty-four, not eighty,” Evan rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” Eddie retorts. “We should go to bed. We have a wedding to plan in the morning.”

He starts putting everything away and Evan follows suit in their familiar dance of doing the picking up. “We’re not actually going to plan a wedding, right? Or do you have your sights set on Chris being the ring bearer or something?”

“As adorable as that would be, we’re not actually going to plan a wedding. Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”

Evan doesn’t know how to feel about that exactly, but he lets it go for now. They get ready for bed together and get in. They’ve been sharing the bed for a long time now, but it’s feel weirdly different to lie next to each other now. Technically engaged.

After a few moments of them lying side by side staring at the ceiling, Eddie softly says: “You don’t have to, you know that right? It’s not as if my parents can come snatch him out of your hands.”

“I want to have the legal backing if I’m going to try and pick him up from Helena’s house after she babysits. I don’t think a kidnapping charge would look good on my record.”

“I know, I’m just saying that I won’t be mad if you change your mind or-”

“Shut up,” Evan hits him with his pillow, earning a squawk. “I want to, I’m going to. Now sleep, I have work in the morning.”

And that’s that.

They call the same lawyer that did Eddie’s divorce in the morning and Eddie goes over to get a prenup made, not wanting a repeat of having to sort everything like he had to do with Shannon, because this is just for now. This isn’t going to be permanent, at some point Evan is going to find someone he loves and marry her. Eddie doesn’t know why that thought stings.

He also gets the adoption paperwork ready for when they come over after their wedding. Doing that doesn’t leave the same weird feeling in his stomach, he just takes it to mean he’s making the right choice, letting Evan into his life more. If that’s even possible.

A week later they’re at a courthouse with only Chris as their witness. Both are unreasonably nervous and the press of lips feels weird, but also not. Neither can look the other in the eyes afterwards.

The people who work there take some pictures of them and it’s so ridiculous that it breaks the tension. The two of them, along with Chris, do some weird poses and they’re pretty happy with their wedding day photos, even if they’ll probably get stuffed in a drawer somewhere and then forgotten.

Neither of them think anything will really change, they tied the knot because it is convenient, not because they want to be married. It’s just the best solution they have for now.

This assumption is proven to be incorrect when they eat dinner the first day after they got married when Chris asks: “Did you have a good day, papi?”

Eddie startles a little and sends Evan a look to see if he knows what’s happening, because Eddie has always been daddy. By the looks of it, Evan is just as confused as he is. Eddie turns back to Chris and says: “It was good, mijo.”

“No, silly, not you,” Chris giggles. He is going through a phase where he likes the word silly, he thinks it sounds, you know, silly.

“Me?” Evan asks, eyes wide as he points at himself.

“Uh-huh,” Chris nods. “I told Ms. Jane you are married. She says you’re my daddy too. But daddy is already daddy.”

That makes a surprising amount of sense, but as much as Evan would adore being referred to as his dad by Chris, he doesn’t want the kid to do anything he doesn’t want to. “You don’t have to call me anything you don’t want to Chris. Not because Ms. Jane told you so.”

Eddie surprises him by adding: “But you are allowed to if you want to. You’re right. Evan is your other daddy.”

He meets Evan’s eyes when he says the last part, trying to imprint it onto him that he means it. If there is one thing he knows about Evan, it’s that he can be insecure. Like, they’re married and he’s still worried about overstepping.

Chris is quiet for a second, thinking, then he smiles: “Okay. I’m going to.” Before asking again: “So, did you have a good day, papi?”

“I did,” Evan smiles, thrilled at the development and endeared that Chris is asking him. He always asks the same when he comes home and it seems Chris has picked up on the habit.

Another thing that changes, is their relationship with Eddie’s parents. Evan doesn’t go with him to tell them he re-enlisted and Evan is taking care of Chris while he is away on tour. The news is not well received. Evan will swear he heard the yelling all the way back home.

When Eddie comes back, he looks about ten years older and Evan cautiously asks: “So, how did that go?”

“Well, let’s see,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his face, before ticking off on his hand. “If this were a real relationship, they’d never support it. They can’t believe I’d go this far to keep their grandchild from them. I’m a horrible father for leaving Chris. Again. Especially because I’m leaving him with you. But they are willing to work with us, for Chris’s sake.”

“That… That is a lot,” Evan says, processing what Eddie has just said.

“Yeah, it is.” Eddie throws himself on the couch next to him. “And I don’t trust their motives either, but it’s not like we have a choice.”

“No, we don’t,” Evan sighs, also slumping into the couch. “Beer?”

“Please.”

The Diaz parents knowing also has another side effect of their business being spread all over town, which half-helps against homophobes, because Ramon makes it very clear that his son is being a rebellious kid, who is making idiotic decisions and Evan is the queer villain, who is tricking their son and stealing their grandchild.

Not ideal rumors to have going around, but Evan has a lot of practice not letting things get to him and Chris is too happy of a presence and sadly also too used to whispers following him.

The whispers get worse when Eddie actually leaves, but Evan never tells him. He has enough to worry about in a war zone, he doesn’t need to deal with Evan’s hurt feelings. Unless they get to Chris, it’s not important.

God, Chris. Telling him daddy had to leave again is one of the hardest things either of them have ever had to do.

He screams and cries and refuses to let either of them go for days. Evan thinks he’ll never be able to forget Chris wailing: “No, daddy, no! You can’t go, because you come back, but then papi will leave, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want either of you to leave.”

Evan hugs Chis close and promises: “Papi is never gonna go, sweetheart. I’m not going to leave you, even when daddy comes back. And he’s going to come, it’s not forever. And I’m going to be right here. Always. Okay? I promise.”

It’s the first time he ever referred to himself as papi, but he doesn’t even get to panic about it, too busy making sure Chris is okay. He teaches him the secret of the pinky promise, trying to ignore how Maddie didn’t keep her pinky promise to him. He vows that Chris will never have to learn that pinky promises are as meaningless as the normal ones.

When Eddie leaves, it is hard all over again. Evan and Chris drive him to the airport, Eddie in the backseat with Chris so they can cling to each other for as long as possible. Evan watches them fondly through the rear view mirror, heart aching and heavy, despite the fondness it is filled with.

He is about as ready as Chris is to drop Eddie off. He knows it’s for the best, did the math himself, then had someone more competent do the math as well. He would’ve offered to go instead in a heartbeat, but Eddie never would have let him. Evan knows he’s doing better for Chris, but sometimes it is so clear that he needs to be the man of the house. Needs to provide. So, here Evan is, having to let him go.

Evan doesn’t feel ready for it, but he supposes no parent feels ready to do it by themselves.

He’s seen how Shannon wasn’t ready and crumbled under it, seen the panic in Eddie’s eyes the day he realized he’d have to do it alone. He made sure Eddie never had to do it alone, but here he is and he is hoping with all he has that he’s not going to crumble like Shannon did. Chris won’t survive it if he does and he can’t do that to him. So he prays a little, even though he doesn’t really believe.

They park the car at the airport and Evan gets out alongside the others. Eddie unbuckles Chris, while Evan goes to grab his bags. Chris happily lets daddy carry him as far as he can, then tries to hold on for longer, hoping that if he can make him miss the flight, he won’t leave them.

It’s almost more heartbreaking than telling Chris when Evan has to pry his little fingers from Eddie’s clothes as Eddie backs up far enough that Chris can’t grab him again.

He holds Chris in his arms while he cries, pretty sure Eddie is crying too as he backs away further into the airport, still waving and refusing to turn his back on them until he absolutely has to. Evan wants to cry as well, but he keeps himself as strong as he can. For Chris. So, he takes Chris’s hand in his own and makes it wave, hoping that’ll be enough of something to make up for departure (he knows it won’t, nothing ever will).

The two of them stand there until Eddie has long since disappeared into the crowd. Neither of them are ready to leave yet. It’s almost as if they stand there long enough, Eddie will return.

Usually, it’s Eddie who makes the difficult calls, since he is Chris’s actual dad, no matter what the paperwork might tell you, so he has the final say. But now Evan is the one that has to make all the decisions, including the hard ones. So, he is the one that has to walk away.

Chris starts crying again the second he does and Evan doesn’t think he’ll ever feel like a worse person than he does in that moment, carrying a protesting, quivering, crying Chris back to the car and away from his dad.

Without Eddie there, the house is quiet. They lived alongside each other more than with each other for most of the time, but Evan is missing the little pockets of time he used to fill with Eddie.

It feels weirdly empty.

Lonely.

Especially the first few weeks when Chris doesn’t speak unless he has to. Evan knows Chris misses the empty spaces Eddie leaves more than him and he doesn’t blame the kid for being upset. It just hammers home how unprepared he is for this, how much he can’t do this alone, how he’ll never measure up to Eddie as a presence in Chris’s life.

However, Eddie calls. Evan can’t always be there when it happens and he knows it isn’t the same as having him there, but it gets Chris out of his shell again.

Those first weeks he only talks to Eddie, then he slowly starts talking to Evan again. A few days later, he talks to his grandparents too, something he learns because a smug Helena informs him of it when he comes to pick up Chris.

She is going to use it as a reason she should keep Chris there longer, since he is obviously more comfortable there. She hadn’t been able to sway Eddie before he left, but she has been trying again with Evan from the second they came back from the airport.

But, Buckley stubbornness is nothing to sniff at, so he just smiles pleasantly and says: “Good to hear he’s opened up here too. He was already talking at home a few days ago, but for a second there it seemed me and Eddie were the only ones that were going to hear his voice, it’s nice that he’s coming back to himself. Settling in again.” And Buckley pettiness is also pretty strong.

Helena’s face drops at that, twisting into something displeased as she replies: “Yes, with his sensibilities, it’s good that he’s recovering from the shock Eddie put him through.”

Talking to Helena always leaves a sour taste in his mouth and the time he spends talking with her has increased considerably since Eddie left. He specifically doesn’t like how she undermines Eddie and babies Chris. It gets on his nerves. His two Diaz boys are capable and she doesn’t get to decide they aren’t.

It makes his blood boil and he wants to fight her every single time he comes to pick up Chris. But he doesn’t want Chris to grow up around arguing, and neither does Eddie. It’s one of the things that they agreed on when it came up during the late nights when Eddie opened up about everything. How Chris has been around enough arguing already.

So, he tries to bite his tongue and scrounges up some sympathy to extend to Shannon for putting up with it for three years. Though, when he reflects, he’s also getting to the three years. He met Chris when he was three and birthday number six is coming up. It’s crazy how his short stop in El Paso for some more travel money devolved so quickly. Not that he regrets a thing.

With strained politeness, he forces out: “Chris is a strong kid and Eddie is caring for him, he knows that. He just has to adjust. Now, we need to go.” A little louder he calls out: “You got your stuff, Superman?”

“Yes, papi,” Chris calls back and he sees how Helena’s face sours even more at that.

She doesn’t like that he lets Chris walk to the car by himself and she certainly doesn’t like that he calls Evan papi. If it were up to her, Evan would’ve never met Chris or Eddie. He should have disappeared right alongside Shannon and the fact that he didn’t is quite the affront to her. Evan tries not to care, he’s used to parents not wanting to have him around, he can take it.

As Chris makes his way to the car, she can’t help but comment: “Be careful Chris that is dangerous, let Evan carry you.”

“Do you want to be carried, Chris?” Evan asks, before she can continue or Chris can reply.

“No, I can do it,” Chris says.

Evan shoots her a look that says ‘what can you do?’ not being very apologetic or genuine about it as he says: “He can do it.”

He allows himself those little petty moments. To stay sane. He can do a lot by himself, but with his hours he can’t pick up Chris from kindergarten, so he has to rely on Helena – and Ramon when he is in town – to do it for him and watch him until he is let off.

It’s not optimal, but he makes do. Eddie trusts him with his kid, Eddie married him, so Chris would be taken care of. That is so far beyond what anyone has ever granted Evan and he refuses to let him down. Even if school gets tense around him being in Chris and Eddie’s life like that and they have to switch where Chris does his PT.

Chris blows out his six birthday candles on a video call with daddy, surrounded by strained family relations. It’s not much better than his fifth, which he spend crying because mommy didn’t come back to celebrate. Evan hopes his seventh birthday will be better.

Evan tries his best to make it a good birthday, he saved up to buy him some nice presents, plays nice with Helena and Ramon, and showers Chris with as much love and attention as he can, trying to make up for the two missing parents.

He forces on cheer the whole day, infusing the birthday with as much love and happiness as he can, then tucks Chris in bed at the end of the night, crawls into his own and cries.

He cries, because he doesn’t want to do this alone, he can’t give Chris the childhood he deserves and he doesn’t know why Eddie trusts him with it, because he’s incompetent Evan. The child his parents don’t want, the idiot who couldn’t finish college and traveled all over to escape his failure and the disappointment. Who accidentally tripped into the best thing that has ever happened to him and is now ruining it.

Chris is old enough that he’ll remember this period. He’s likely not going to know much from Shannon’s struggles, but he’ll remember Evan’s. He will remember how much Evan can’t measure up against all the other people that care for him, how he lets Chris call him papi even though he doesn’t deserve the title at all.

Evan is probably fucking Chris over for life and he can’t stop, can’t walk away, because the only thing he can imagine that is worse than being bad at raising Chris, is not raising Chris at all.

Still, the overwhelming feeling of being insufficient and being lonely presses down on him and he cries a little more, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. That night he wishes Eddie would be there with them again and he is pretty sure Chris wished the same when he blew out those candles.

He regrets making that wish a few months later when he picks up the phone to find a very official voice asking if he is speaking to Evan Buckley, husband of Eddie Diaz.

It’s still weird to hear that said out loud, despite being married for almost a year now, because no one around him acknowledges it really. Not that’s real, beyond the fact that it is real. So he stumbles for a moment as he says: “Y- yeah, uhm, yes, that’s me.”

“We’re calling you, because of an incident involving your husband,” the person on the other end informs him and his stomach just drops, the world collapsing in on itself.

No. No.

This can’t be the call. His legs are jello and his lungs aren’t working.

The voice continues on: “He was injured in this incident and has been transported to Germany to recover, once he is stable enough to make the journey, we’ll bring him home to you,” which brings some relief, because he’s not dead, but Evan’s world is still off kilter, because Eddie is injured.

Eddie is injured. Eddie is badly injured. He isn’t stable enough to come home. He could have died out there.

There is a buzzing in his ears and he is perceiving at the world as if he’s looking through a layer of water. Dazed he makes it through the rest of the conversation with the military person about the state Eddie is in and the logistics of getting him home and getting into contact with him. He retains it all, because it’s important, but it doesn’t feel real. He doesn’t want it to be real.

Evan feels entirely disconnected from his body, because yeah, Eddie is alive. Eddie is probably going to be okay. But for a second there, Eddie might not have been. For a second Evan thought he was getting a very, very different call.

And that scares the shit out of him.

That moment wherein Eddie wasn’t coming back, wherein Evan wasn’t just taking care of Chris by himself until Eddie came back, but had to do it alone for the rest of his life, that scares him.

He keeps telling himself it scares him, because Chris would have been devastated by the news that daddy is never coming home. That it’s not about Evan, but about the kid that is his son, because Evan is just the guy that Eddie married so he wouldn’t have to fight his parents. Because Eddie will come back from war, divorce him and try to find stability without him. That Evan only has a place in his life, because he’s useful to Chris.

But he is realizing now that it isn’t just Chris, who has been waiting for a loved one to come home, it’s Evan too.

It’s a horrible thing, to finally name that thing you’ve been ignoring as nothing but a small crush as love. To realize it’s much more than a fleeting thing, that you’re in love with his best friend while he’s injured and on the other side of the world and you’re at home watching his kid, married to him, but not together.

So, he collapses, lets himself cry and grieve a relationship that will probably never be, then pulls himself back together again. He can’t break down, he still has to tell Chris daddy got hurt.

~~

A/N:

I am making up legalities for the fic, I do not actually know how to adopt a child easily and it can be wildly inaccurate, but I don’t care, bc it helps my plot xp

Also Chris would be hit harder with this additional third tour I’m giving Eddie, since he’s older and can process the leaving, especially after Shannon already left, so I’m hoping it’s not too out of character for people, since I do also love our resident sunshine boy :D

(in my mind he did a tour when Shannon was pregnant, then after she gave birth and now this one)

[iguessitsjustme]

Takara's Treasure Ep 1 & 2 Thoughts

 Okay so I just finished Cosmetic Playlover (here is the start of my liveblog if you want to read) and I’m still on the JBL train so it’s time for Takara’s Treasure. I know so little about this show it kind of feels like I’m going in blind but I do know some things. Kind of. Under the cut:

That is my exact question baby boy. What constitutes “a wrong crowd”

NOT THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS WHEN HE APPEARS LKSJDGHKDJFHGKH

Oh he loves plants. I’m obsessed. Love him. 

So because of how I do these liveblogs, you guys do not know how long it takes me to watch each episode. Y’all can just read the next bullet right away but I need to mention how doing these has helped me notice a pattern for myself. It always takes me sooooo long to start getting into shows. I started this episode about an hour ago and I’m not done yet. The episode is 23 minutes long. It takes me so long because I either get distracted or interrupted, but the second I start feeling very attached to the characters, it’s game over and I start flying through the episodes. Especially on a binge. It’s just fascinating to me and I’m kind of glad you guys can’t tell because it is genuinely very frustrating sometimes to want to watch a show and have to fight my brain to keep going because it got distracted (or sometimes it’s because I’m having a flare up and I need to break from the show to deal with it). Anyway, with that said, time to get back on track. I can at least finish episode 1.

Aw the poor baby who lost his bird. I saw this coming but it hurts. I lost my pets a few years ago really tragically (do not ask me about this I will not answer any questions) and it hurts so bad still. I struggle with pets/animals in shows that pass away. It is one of the very, very few things that is actually likely to make me cry. So I get it. Sitting on the mountain and crying all day? Good. Let him process that grief. Let it out baby boy let it out.

What has this man been through? What traumas has he suffered? That is a look of a man who has dealt with some shit. Which means I am going to love him. I am going to absolutely adore him, aren’t I?

Yeah I’d fall in love too. Look at this soft, quiet smile.

Oh sweetie baby he made friends! I’m attached now.

Well since the episodes are short, let’s also do episode 2! Wooo! (send help I feel unwell in multiple ways)

As it turns out..feeling unwell made me fall asleep and it is now the next day. But now I’m about to BINGE. God bless. (pain meds my beloved…yes, I was at cvs at 7 this morning don’t look at me)

I love her AND her pants.

I’m not gonna lie guys, I kind of miss the god awful wigs in Japanese BL. Give me wigs like the ones in Seven Days.

I just spilled cheez-its ALL OVER MY COUCH. It is 9 in the morning. I think I’m actually done with the day now. *eats my last applesauce*

Nooo baby don’t tell him to get rid of the hoops. I like the hoops. Don’t change to studs booo

This baby is so cute asking if he can talk to Takara on campus (It’s Takara and Taishin, right? Also I hope I don’t have their names swapped in my head)

Anyway. He’s so cute. Most people would just start talking to him on campus but he asked if it was okay. Oh my precious baby insecure about How to Friend and it’s just delightful.

What a nice man giving up his seat on the bus. I wish I could do that. I mean I can but it hurts me to stand sometimes. But I love when shows give us tiny little human moments like that. It’s so wholesome and beautiful.

Girl he doesn’t owe you an explanation for not dating you. If he said “no” that’s all the info you are entitled to. Just because he’s single doesn’t mean he’s yours. Gosh that really irks me. I think that’s why I have a problem with the faen fatale trope in a lot of BLs. Because the other person never seems to view our BL boy as an actual person with wants and desires. They project their wants and desires onto them and I don’t know…it’s just annoying to watch. I’m glad it’s not as prevalent as it once was.

Mr. Man on the sidewalk. It is 9:30 in the morning. What could you possibly be screaming about?

Oh I am so smart. Takara is so smart. Took the words right out of my mouth. Literally.

I want all of those umbrellas.

Okay okay I can forgive this show for swapping out the hoops for studs if it’s because Takara likes glassware.

I love this man that Taishin keeps meeting at the bus/bus stop. He’s just so human and kind.

I’ve seen Takara smile twice now and both times the smile has been soft and gentle and aimed at Taishin and I love them both so much.

Whelp. Time for episode 3 methinks

[nebulacollege]

What kind of pajamas do the boys wear? Ho is more inclined to have sleepovers? Any bedtime routines?

I... have no idea?? We actually discussed it with Ryu one night before going to sleep ~half a year (or a whole year) ago, but I don’t remember anything we talked about or if we even came to a conclusion. So I’ll make all of this up rn, but don’t quote me on that if something changes! lol

I have a feeling the college would recommend wearing a proper set and to keep in mind of having something warm, but it’s a little bit boring, that’s why these are recommendations and not rules.

Niall – he seems like someone who always wears proper pyjamas when sleeping. They’re probably expensive and nice to touch, the ones that come in a set. He changes them according to the season. Sleepovers are fine with him, but I can’t imagine Niall having any close friends to do something like that lol but if it was important socially, he would definitely organise those. As for his routine, I think, apart from the obvious stuff, he brushes his hair and does a very light skin routine before going to sleep.

Ned – he feels a little bit uncomfortable wearing pyjamas (they feel tight, and if the size is too big, then it hangs around uncomfortably), so he ends up sleeping in his underwear for the most part. Even if it’s cold, he’d rather grab several blankets and turn his bed into a fortress, it feels more comfortable to him this way. He also probably has an excessive amount of pillows around him for the same purpose. He ends up sleeping in a very hot and almost suffocating place lol Dragon students in general feel like someone who’d be into sleepovers, so they probably do it for various reasons from time to time, but at the same time try to keep their own space. His routine probably just includes showering (as for everyone else, tbh...) and reading a book before going to sleep for a determined amount of time, but he falls asleep immediately, so it varies on his strength.

Edmund – having to share a bedroom is enough of a sleepover for him, let him have peace!.. He doesn’t understand why Ravens need to spend so much time together, although he exaggerates – sleepovers don’t happen regularly. Ironically, I can also see Edmund inviting his men (lol) to a sleepover at his place in some non-canon way, so he’s a hypocrite. His pyjamas are going to be in the game with a little context, so I can just copy the draft text: “My sleeping attire - I could hardly call it pyjamas - was unsuitable for this climate, but I didn't get rid of the habit of putting on light clothes after living for almost ten years in” another place. I hope to make it a CG so it would be clearer, but he’d wear his underwear (maybe shorts) and a t-shirt as his sleeping clothes. His bedtime routine is to lie and roll over in bed until he falls asleep at some time. He would also read books sometime (fiction and horror), but if it’s interesting, he would just binge the entire thing, sacrificing his sleep in the process. That’s not a routine...

Liam – he also probably wears pyjamas, but with socks – it’s too cold for him as it is. They’re also sets, but not nearly as fabulous as Niall’s silky bullshit, which is better, because Liam keeps himself warm for the night. His routine sometimes involves prepping food for cooking the next day, which is also not a bedtime routine... He doesn’t really have anything. He just needs to prepare various things for certain purposes from time to time, nothing suspicious. Despite Snake students’ friendly attitude toward others, they never organise sleepovers and dislike them in general. You’d think that snakes would be the one to love them the most... probably because they don’t get invited to other people’s beds. ;)

[iamfruitie]

Could you possibly do some bingle?

Google liked seeing Bing in lingerie, never one to complain at the sight and enjoying the fun that came with it. But, unlike the other partners of the brat club members, he didn’t really get too flustered about it. Bing knew this, and Bing also knew what got Google going. 

He stole one of Google’s classic blue shirts, one with the G in the center and everything. The two androids were about the same size, give or take a few inches in certain spots, so the shirt fit him well. Bing also found a pair of tight, very short shorts that clung to his body and even had 

the bottom of his ass sticking out. This duo was a deadly pair when it came to flustering Google. 

“The update is processing as we speak. It’s mainly a firewall advancement.” Google spoke to Dark through the video call he had set up on his laptop. He preferred reporting this way so he didn’t have to worry about finding Dark or having to speak in front of all of the others. Google wasn’t the biggest fan of talking in front of everyone but would do so when needed. 

“Do you have an estimation of how long the update will take? I don’t want our digital protection to be down too long.” Dark’s voice came from the laptop’s speaker. The screen was angled, so the door to the room was just out of view, and Bing knew that was how Google always had his catch-up meetings with Dark. He used that to his advantage and stood at the door, leaning an arm against the frame and grinning as he waited to get seen. 

“The first…layer, to put it in less technical terms, will be active in no more than five minutes. The rest of the layers will slowly add on and take, give or take, less than an hour before everything returns to proper function.” Google explained and turned his head toward the door. He had noticed Bing’s presence earlier but wanted to finish his spiel first. “I-” Google’s voice got caught in his throat, and he felt like his brain short-circuited at the sight of Bing. 

“Report back to me when it’s finished so I can let the others-are you alright?” Dark asked. 

“Um…I-uh-I’m…” Google cleared his throat. Bing only softly giggled and waved, winking at Google and watching the other’s face grow redder with each passing second. 

“Google?” 

“Sorry. There’s a-uh-a distraction at the door. I’ll report back to you when everything finishes.” 

“I’ll be here,” Dark stated before ending the call. 

“Don’t you have to watch each ‘layer’ build on?” Bing asked with almost a sing-song tone. “You can’t do anything else for that whole hour.” 

“Bing.” Google breathed out, gripping the edge of his desk. 

“It’s almost like I timed this or something.” Bing giggled and placed a hand on his hip, tucking his fingers under the shirt and exposing more of his skin. 

“This is part of that brat club, isn’t it?” Google asked.

“A little.” 

“You know what happens to brats, right?” 

“I do. And you have plenty of time to plan it out.” Bing winked and turned around, pulling up his shorts to show off even more of his ass. “I’ll be in the bedroom~” He said over his shoulder before walking away. 

“He is so getting it when I’m free,” Google said to himself. 

[onyxheartbeat]

Can’t wrap my brain around people who are cruel to people who love them and do things their loved one has never done to them. Like yell or cuss. This is still something that’s keeping me awake at night a year later. I never yelled at him and never got visibly upset at him even when he’d have his outbursts. I was always calm and tried to talk things out and always ended up apologizing even though I didn’t need to and trying to soothe him back. I always recognized something was severely wrong whether he was just depressed or sad or stressed and I’d try to be calm and understanding.

Same with when he’d call me a cunt. He found this insult to be funny, and he’d use it for inanimate objects that wouldn’t work and he’d say it to his stupid Google/Alexa thing etc., and he’d excuse it in his mind because he felt he wasn’t sexist and me being stupid, I’d do a nervous laugh. But after he crossed the line and really just said it to me without a care in the world, I STILL never yelled at him or abandoned the relationship. I was stern and expressed it’s a boundary for me. But he was so fucked up on some stupid pills that he wouldn’t even hear me. And then he crossed the boundary again and again.

And it’s just like…HOW?! How is it in your heart to scream at me, slap me one day for simply trying to tell him he shouldn’t drink (which he literally asked me to hold him to), telling me things like “get the fuck out” and threaten we should end the relationship at the drop of a hat (which when I tried to address, he’d apologize and say it was a defense mechanism which makes no sense since there was nothing to defend!) How can he have done that stuff when I never did things like that to him?!

The whole relationship was literally just him asking me to come over and me coming, and it would be so loving and he’d want to talk and cuddle and make me tea and watch movies, and talk pleasantly for hours, and he’d open up to me and tell me things he’d never told anyone before because he felt safe to cry and be vulnerable…unless he turned into a complete monster for no reason other than his own anger and stress and drug binges. We’d be so, so loving and soft with each other, and he’d be so in love with me until he just wouldn’t.

And now, I’m sort of starting to understand symptoms of BPD. Looking back I don’t know what was BPD symptoms, heart failure symptoms, or just plain stress/depression from his mom’s death and him needing to sell the house. He’d push me away then pull me back in out of utter fear of abandonment, calling me and texting me constantly when I was at work and he wouldn’t even know what time of day it was or that he had just spoken to me and I never knew if it was symptoms of his heart disease worsening (heart failure can make someone very dizzy and short of breath and disoriented).

But I never fought him or lost patience or showed signs of being annoyed or fed up (except the night I found him subscribing to OnlyFans models) and even then I didn’t yell. I just left the house. But he would yell or say incredibly insensitive things and have no care in the world about how that made me feel. I literally never yelled back until the final phone call we had. I never once threw an insult or cussed at him. And I’m just unable to process it! How can someone do that stuff to someone who’s not a threat to them or being rude or mean to them in any way?! Someone who was being so loving and affectionate to them??!

It just takes me back to being a little girl bullied on the school ground, being physically hit by other kids, and just having a complete freeze response and having to go cry and rage in private later.

I was never able to stand up for myself when I valued the approval of (classmates). And then into adulthood, that clearly followed me with the only romantic relationship I’ve ever known.

When it comes to strangers, or just randos, I’m perfectly able to fight back and not care how I’m perceived, but I guess I never learned it when it came to close relationships.

Whatever.

[succstosucculent]

Okay, I binged half of Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender last night, so here are my thoughts so far:

One: if you’re gonna compare it to the original the whole time, you’re gonna have a bad time. If you go into this with the idea that it is an adaptation, a retelling, a kind-of-it’s-own thing like the movie remakes they do every twenty years or so, then it is bearable. Note how I only said “bearable”. The following criticisms are (instinctively) made because I’m subconsciously comparing it to the original, but I feel like I’ve gotten the main points down to “this would be a problem even if it were a stand-alone show.”

Two: niceties are over, time to get into the crit part. Even if you treat it like its own thing, you’d still find faults in it. The pacing feels way off, other fans seem to say the same thing, though this is probably the consequence of today’s super short, eight-episode seasons. It just feels rushed, like, would I have rather they cut some story arcs for time instead of cramming 3 to 4 disjointed ones into the same episode so that nothing goes to waste? I don’t know.

Three: as a consequence of the whole thing feeling rushed and haphazardly condensed, we don’t really have time to appreciate these characters. Like, I know I should like Katara because she was one of my faves from the original, and I know I should like her because of her kind heart and the way she herself grows as a bender along with Aang, but idk, I haven’t been able to connect with this version of Katara yet, and thus I can’t say whether I liked her or not yet. This could be said of nearly every main character we’ve got to meet so far.

(TBF, I did say I watched half of the series last night; maybe the other half will change my opinion on her, and the rest of the cast?)

Four: along with the art of pacing a story, we have lost the art of subtlety. Not everything had to be explained to us, even if we had never seen the original Avatar. We didn’t need to be hit over the head with the revelations we could’ve figured out for ourselves, if we just had the time to process them all. There have been crit blogs that have written about this much more eloquently than I could, so I’m just gonna leave it there.

Final assessment is it’s okay, but just okay. Netflix Avatar is plagued by most issues of contemporary shows, like short seasons, haphazard pacing, lack of developed characters, and the complete loss of subtlety. That being said, it is a feast for the eyes, and if you watch it alone at night like I did, be sure to hit that pause button and take in the views ❤️ Let’s just say though, that I would not be surprised if there wasn’t a Book Two/Season Two.

Oh and also, Jet still hot 🥵

[shaftking]

It would be one thing if the fat acceptance people accepted that they were obese and the consequences that come with it, but they don't. They try to push it as a good thing to be with no consequences. Even the heavily increased food budget cannot be mentioned. They try to snuff me out if I bring up how my binge eating disorder is genuinely affecting me and is an eating disorder. That is what I hate about the fat acceptance people.

But I dont ride that wavelength. I recently broke my binge eating trend by figuring out allulose pulls me out of the binge eating-mindset almost immediately. Add in the fact that my doctor and I figured out a medication that reduces my heavy muscle fatigue, making me able to lift some weights again, and I am set. I am now at a point where I am eating around 1200 calories a day and lifting weights while watching/listening to My 600 Pound Life as motivation (you know, it is what not to be.) They're 10 pound weights, sure, but I am a girl and do not want to be strong. I just need to do enough to both lose some weight and reduce some of the constant pain.

Will I post this on my own account? Maybe once I am far enough to not be called a hypocrite by the fat acceptance group. But it's a big change that definitely feels better than their stupid logic. I wish they would let there be discussion on how other disabilities can lead one down the path and how the weight just makes those disabilities worse. I wish saying "binge eating is an eating disorder" wasn't taboo. It just all sucks.

Good for you on working on yourself! I know that shit is hard. Tbh if you’re morbidly obese, even taking daily walks counts as exercise in the beginning of a weightloss journey. I wouldn’t stress about them too much as it relates to your own health and wellness journey, because it seems to me that no matter what you do you can’t please them because they are largely just looking for ways to excuse their own behaviors and put others down to try and quell their own insecurities.

And yeah fat activists absolutely hate people talking about their binge eating disorder because they’ve either decided to categorically ignore that it exists, or they have just decided that their binge-restrict cycle (if they binge eat and aren’t simply just eating way more than normal) is actually normal.

You also do bring up a good point about the cost it takes to maintain such a large weight a lot of the time. It can cost a whole lot to be eating what it takes to be morbidly obese, and it’s pretty laughable that fat activists will try to claim they are “food insecure” or aren’t eating enough when they’re either secret eaters (ie unaware of how much they are actually eating on the regular) or they are unaware of just how man empty calories are in the ultra processed food that dominates their diet.

Not to shame snacking or the occasional bag of hotchips, donut, ice cream sundae, or big mac, etc because I think a truly healthy relationship with food means that you can still generally have fun, nothing foods like these now and then but that most of the time you eat mostly healthy and stay as mobile and active as you are able. I just want people to be honest with themselves and do the best for themselves that they can, and to be realistic about goals and expectations.

[thiccer-than-sniccer]

“Old Rules” I used to follow and why the logic is beyond faulty:

-no one is around, the calories don’t count. Does not make sense, calories exist regardless of another person’s presence.

-no nutrition information, the calories don’t count. Also does not make sense, calories exist regardless of a label or lack thereof.

-I can eat however much I want during the day, I just have to fast for 12 hours (most of that spent sleeping). The (relatively short) amount of time fasting cannot outrun the astronomical amount of calories consumed.

-bingeing one day will not ruin my progress. Not a faulty argument on the surface, but using this logic too much can be detrimental, which is what I did.

-an extra bite/plate won’t ruin my progress. An extra “bite”/plate can add 400-1,000 calories. Idiot.

-don’t weigh myself, I’ll just wait to see changes in the mirror. Changes can take up to a month to appear and I, my friend, do not have the patience.

-this person bought/made this food, I can’t let it go to waste. They chose to spend the money. Sure, wasting food feels shitty, but you aren’t the one taking money directly out of their account, and excuses won’t take inches off the waist. Other people are perfectly capable of eating that food.

-[x situation happens] it must be a sign that I need to eat this food. No universe, god, Buddha, Flying Spaghetti Monster, or zodiac bologna can determine when/what I need to eat. Stop being stupid.

These “rules” have caused me to gain 20+ pounds! I have only set myself up for failure by abiding by these rules/excuses/arguments, and each time I give up, which only causes myself to gain more. I’m at my highest weight, now. Thus, causing me to open my eyes to my own irrational reasoning, leading me to start anew 🩶🩶

New Rules™ I follow:

-weigh myself every. Single. Morning. No excuses, no arguments. Write it down.

-hungry? Drink coffee/water.

-cravings? Just walk away from it. Find something to do. Distance is my greatest weapon.

-oh no! Somebody bought/made us food! Don’t panic, eat some of it, pack the rest away to eat later. I will not look rude or feel bad as long as I ate some of it.

-fasting makes me feel lighter and skinnier by default.

-for the love of Jesus Mary and Joseph do not shower after dinner.

-going out for lunch/dinner? Preplan, eat light meals, if anything at all, beforehand.

-do I need that extra bite? Do I need that pack of chocolate? The answer is ALWAYS no!

-weaponized laziness! Feeling the urge to snack (aka binge)? Just lay down! No food tastes good enough to move.

My family is Italian and eats like it. I’ve had to rewire my entire thought process in order to work around their ways of living. I pinned this as a reminder to me. Hopefully this helps some of those who are stuck! 🤍🩶✨

[notsosilentsister]

Letter to a new teacher

Your students looked a bit lost? I had students complain about me to my supervisor because my lesson had been so confusing that they had checked out after 5 minutes. They haven't done that in a while, so I guess, things can get better! Teaching can be hard on the ego; lord knows, it was hard on mine, especially during the first years. Got a lot of mixed feedback from the beginning, definitely cried about it on one occasion or two. But the truth is, finding a style that works for you is just a lot of trial and error, and you get quite a bit of a margin of error in most institutions. The stakes are not actually that high. Take a moment and consider, seriously, what is the worst that could happen?

So I've explained something badly, I've lost the class? Just means I'll have to explain it again. Maybe not the most efficient use of lecture time, but I'm sure some students would need a repetition anyway. If it's a key point, it's never enough to explain it just once. If it's just a footnote, I make a note not to put it on the exam and move on.

Honestly, the mere fact that you're paying attention to whether you've lost your audience already puts you heads and shoulders above some instructors I could think of from my personal experience. Explaining something in a confusing manner is an easy mistake to make, but it's also an easy mistake to correct. The students are bored? Well, some are going to be bored no matter what I do. The subject either holds some intrinsic interest for the student, or it doesn't, and if it doesn't, any bells and whistle I could use to get at least some momentary attention will only take a student so far anyway. It's true that a bad teacher can kill even the most motivated student's interest in a subject, but for that it usually takes somewhat more than just being dull. Also, ultimately every learner has to find their own way to the matter; to truly grasp something, you need to feel a personal resonance. I can tell you why something is interesting to me - I can't tell students why it should be interesting to them, because I don't know all their lifes and all their plans, and even if I did, I can't make that personal connection for them. If they're only here to get a certificate, binge all the knowledge the night before the test, to vomit it up on cue with the full intention to shed it all like so much ballast once they've handed in their exam, I'm not going to stop them, I actually think they should have that choice. (I've always side-eyed the sort of teacher who goes into it with the aspiration "to shape young minds"; I think the young minds should always be free to reject getting shaped. I've certainly had my share of students who clearly walked out of my lessons with perfectly pristine minds, and they should be free to do so - but of course they were clearly extremly bored!). You know which student is certainly not going to be bored? The student who's always on their toes, because they feel their instructor might call on them any minute and tear them apart in front of the whole class. They're not going to actually learn anything either, because the fear takes up too much mental capacity to process new information properly, but they are probably not going to vote that class "best class to nap through" in the yearbook (not gonna lie, I was pretty insulted about that one for a week at least). Obviously I'm not saying you'll either have to bore or terrodrize your students. Obviously good teachers manage to to do neither. But it can be a tricky balance to strike (some students are quite sensitive and feel easily over-taxed, others will feel easily understimulated if you don't challenge them once in a while, it's not always immediately obvious who's which type), and what I'm saying is, there's definitely a worse side to err on, in my humble opinion. You clearly want to see yourself as someone who holds themselves to certain standards. You might be surprised, but so do I. I actually think it's hugely important that teachers do. But these standards can't just be external standards alone - external standards are moving targets, in some ways you always could be doing more, there are some students who will always need more than you're capable of - your standards have to be internal ones, they have to reflect what's most important to you, and they have to be workable for you. My standards for example: Don't make students cry. I made a student cry once and it was the worst, it made every subsequent failure pale in comparision. Don't stand by while a student hurts (insults, mocks, undermines) another. Don't punish students for your own mistakes, always admit when you're wrong. Don't play favourites. These to me are the four mortal sins of teaching, the things that can really cause lasting damage. Dull and confusing is not optimal, but it happens, and the students will survive. These are the things that I need my students to trust me with: That I know my stuff That I give a shit That I don't take things too personally. Maybe they'll sometimes find me dull and confusing, but my experience is, if they trust me with these three things, I can work with them well enough.

[xexiar]

Keep Watching. Ch 3

Ch1 Ch2 Ao3

Chapter 3

I can’t believe this. Kato and Saito were right about Izuku. He’s just a weakling and now quirkless. He is absolutely beneath me. Based on the fact I have a quirk, it means he’ll never be my equal. I am superior. But something about this feels wrong. It’s then I just realized. What about our promise? That’s when something inside felt like it broke, and I was reminded I indeed was alone.

While I sat under the tree at recess, I kept wondering about the news. Can I still be friends with Izuku? Or do I have to give that up? Even if he’s below me, does that mean we can’t play together? When hanging with Kato and Saito the other day, it felt like something was missing. It wasn’t until I started to look for Izuku that I realized what was missing.

But now, as I sit, I feel so lonely. I also feel upset. It’s not like we can’t keep the promise. Maybe there’s a way we can still be heroes together, regardless of whether one of us doesn’t have a quirk. Just as I was lost in thought, I faintly saw something coming my way. I blinked a few times and saw that it was Kato, Saito, and IZUKU! Seeing him reminded me of another promise I made him. Now I really can’t not be friends with him. He needs me.

As I led us across the stream, I lost my footing on the tree bridge and fell into the stream. Thankfully it wasn’t that long of a fall, and I landed in the cool water. Kato and Saito shouted down to me, asking if I was ok. But before I could respond, I watched as Deku walked over to me. “Are you ok, Kacchan?”

When did he get down here? Why is he trying to help me? I’m not as weak as him. At that moment, I could only feel rage, and I slapped his hand away. “I didn’t ask for your help?” I can’t let anyone know that I need help.

…

After that day, I noticed Kacchan seemed to become more distant. I wondered if something was wrong with him, and he didn’t want to tell me. After all, weren’t we supposed to be friends? Even more so, all I wanted was to make sure he was ok. But does he hate me now? I tried to shake that thought away. Kacchan could never hate me.

As I walked home from my first day of kindergarten, I saw that Kacchan had punched a kid from our class. I quickly ran over and tried to get in between them and Kacchan. “What the hell are you doing, Deku? Get out of the way.” Kacchan smiled as he punched a fist into his other hand. Which displayed that he has gotten better with his quirk. But that didn’t stop me from at least trying.

Kacchan has never bullied anyone before. So, why was he doing this? This isn’t the Kacchan I know. “Just stop it, Kacchan!” That’s when I noticed that Kato and Saito were behind him. At that, I felt a mix of anger and sadness. It’s probably their fault for my Kacchan to be acting strange.

It was Kato who took the first punch at me. And then Saito kicked me. But I still got right back up and tried to hold my ground. This wasn’t right. It especially made me angry how they got Kacchan to be just as mean as them. Kacchan grabbed my shirt before punching me in the face and then my stomach. After 2 more hits, he finally pushed me to the ground. “And stay down.” I still got up. “Oh, just stop it. You’ll never be a hero.”

Even with tears sliding down my face, I held my ground. I can’t let anyone near the other kid. I don’t care if I get beaten in the process. “I’ll never give up.” Eventually, those 3 walked away while laughing. But I noticed how Kacchan looked back at me for just a moment.

When I got home, I was surprised. Mom, for once, was there instead of working. As I took my sneakers off, she kept asking if I was ok. “Izuku! What happened to your face? Did you get into another fight again?” I just ignored her as I ran to my room. There was no point in telling her. She would just cry and say how worried I made her feel. And the way she spoke always made me feel like it was always my fault.

Just like the night I caught my mom binge eating in the kitchen. All the while, she cried and mumbled. Sometimes I would catch her saying my name. When she does, she cries harder. A few times, she would say how she wished my dad didn’t leave. Or how she wished she didn’t have to take care of me. Making me feel like my very existence caused her pain. So, are her smiles fake?

While I sat in my room, I held onto my All Might doll. Mom always would get me All Might collectibles when I asked. Even though she complains there isn’t ever any money. What am I supposed to do? Will I ever truly make her happy? Could I make anyone happy?

As I stare at the poster that Kacchan gave me for my birthday, I start to wonder. Why does All Might always smile? Does he ever cry? Has any hero felt the way I do? I then remember the promise me and Kacchan made. I even recall how hurt he would be behind closed doors. It just makes my chest hurt so much. And when I told him about my situation, he did his best to comfort me.

That’s it! I can still be a hero, even without a quirk. If I can help people, isn’t that enough? After finishing my homework, I turned on the computer in my room. Since learning I was quirkless, mom allowed the computer to be in my room. While the computer loaded, I grabbed an empty notebook and a nearby pen. I started to watch the first movie All Might was in. While it ran, I studied carefully his every action. I will learn to be a hero, one way or another.

…

I still was in disbelief that Deku stood against us. Why does he always do that? Even though he knows he’s weaker than all of us. But that idiot still tries to be a hero. He’s so pathetic and should learn his place. Yet at the same time, I can’t tell if he’s brave or just stupid.

While walking along with Kato and Saito, I’m lost in wonder. All four of us went to the same daycare and now elementary school. Even back then, Kato and Saito were considered the cool kids. Especially since they got their quirk before the rest of the daycare. But the moment I got my quirk is when they really started playing with me. Just more proof that I was amazing.

With them, I was able to let off some steam by beating up those weaker than us. After all, only the strong are better than everyone else. Only the strong become heroes. Soon Kato and Saito were off their way as I stepped in front of my house. Hopefully, dad was home, and I wouldn’t have to deal with mom. “I’m home!” It was silent.

After removing my sneakers, I walked over to the kitchen. To no surprise, neither mom nor dad was home. I spotted the note on the fridge and took it off before throwing it away. Knowing dad, he probably said they would have a long day today. So, I opened the fridge door and saw a bento box waiting for me. I guess another night of eating alone. I do get tired of these nights.

Sometimes I wish my parents weren’t so busy. Maybe then we would spend more time together. Or mom wouldn’t be so stressed over her deadlines. Once I finished my dinner, I cleaned up my dishes and headed to my room. Stepping in, I spotted my All Might doll. I wonder what Deku was thinking when he stood in front of me. Was he trying to be a hero? He’s always trying to save people.

As I hugged my All Might doll, I sat on my bed. I didn’t bother turning on the lights as I mumbled in the dark. As thoughts rushed through my mind, I could feel the tears running down my face. It feels like I’m doing something wrong, but I don’t know what it was. The thoughts on how Deku could keep getting up just plague my mind. He has absolutely nothing, but he still keeps pushing. I just don’t understand it.

All while, I’m constantly being reminded how perfect I am. The grown-ups only comment on how smart I am. Or they mention how strong my quirk is. But the moment I make one little mistake, everybody turns on me. How dare I get anything lower than an A plus in all my classes? How dare I not practice using my quirk? How dare I do anything outside of what’s expected of me?

I’m so smart and have a strong quirk. I have to become a hero, but at what cost? I just cried harder as the thoughts just kept going. Each one was more painful than the last. A constant reminder there is no escape. All I can do is be the absolute greatest, no matter what I feel. That night I fell asleep with my whole body in pain and burning tears. But I tried to remind myself how I just have to be ok tomorrow.

While I walked to school, I was completely alone. Or so I thought. I felt eyes were on me and looked to see if anyone was following me. To no one’s surprise, it was Deku. I know he lives near me, but this is ridiculous. Maybe I should confront him today. I should make sure he learns his place.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Kato and Saito heading in my direction. Which got me thinking I should handle Deku on my own. I don’t want anyone getting in the way. This was something that was just between me and him. I just have to wait for my chance and take it.

…

I had just finished washing my hands in the bathroom when I suddenly was face to face with… “Kacchan.” He grabbed the collar of my uniform and covered my mouth. He then pushed me into one of the stalls. What was going on?

“You need to mind your own business, Deku.” He removed his hand from my mouth but kept me pinned to the stall wall. “Don’t you dare do that again.” As he spoke, I couldn’t help but notice the dark marks under his eyes. He only gets those when he has been crying for a long time. Oh no. What could have happened?

Before he let me go, I grabbed his wrist. “Is everything ok, Kacchan?” Kacchan growled before punching the wall next to my head. All while letting out a small explosion. As I looked continued looking at his face, all I could see was pain. Something happened, but he’s refusing to tell me. I couldn’t help but cry as I tried to speak. “I just want to help, Kacchan. Please. What happened?”

That’s when he punched my face. “Mind your damn business! You’re so annoying!” And just like that, Kacchan left the bathroom. I stood there and just cried. He’s hurting, and he won’t tell me. Why am I so useless?

While sitting alone again at lunch, I couldn’t help but stare at my food. What was the point of eating? I looked up and tried to see if I could see where Kacchan was. When I found him, I was saddened to see him eating alone. Everything in me wanted to go sit with him. But would he want that? And without meaning to, I started to cry again. Doing so, all eyes were on me. But the only eyes I cared for were the person that locked eyes with mine. Kacchan!

…

After ensuring the hallway was clear, I entered the bathroom where I saw Deku enter. To no surprise, he was just finishing washing his hands. As I waited for him to turn around, the thoughts from last night popped into my head. The most annoying question. Why doesn’t he just give up?

“Kacchan.” I quickly covered his mouth and dragged him to the stall at the far end. I needed to make sure nobody could hear us. Once inside, I kicked the stall close and used the same foot to lock it. I pinned Deku to the wall, and at that moment, it was getting hard to breathe. Not to mention that I just realized this was the first time in a long time that we were alone. And as I looked into Deku’s eyes, my face began to burn.

I tried to calm down while my heart felt like it would beat out my chest. It didn’t help that I became a little too aware that Deku’s lips were touching the palm of the hand that held them. “You need to mind your own business, Deku.” It felt like a relief when I finally removed my hand from his face. But I kept the other hand holding his uniform. I didn’t feel ready to leave yet. Everything in me screamed to stay close to him. It has always been that way, and it was a battle I still struggle with. “Don’t you dare do it again.”

It took everything in me to finally let him go, but he quickly grabbed my wrist. My heart felt like it jumped into my throat when I felt his hand. “Is everything ok, Kacchan?” Damn it! How does he always know? “What happened?” I can’t! I’ll never be able to tell you! At those thoughts, I couldn’t control myself and punched Deku in the face.

I may have overdone it, seeing how blood came down from his nose. Damn it! I could feel the tears trying to make themselves known. But I couldn’t let Deku see me like this. “Mind your own business! You’re so annoying!” With that, I ran out of the bathroom. I needed to get as far away as possible. I ran all the way to the bathroom that was on the other side of the school. Thankfully nobody was inside, and I went to the stall at the end. From there, I just sat as I cried silently.

This was ridiculous! I started to touch the spot Deku held recently and cried hard. So many childhood dreams were ruined that day. Dreams became pointless because they were impossible to reach. It hurt even more, knowing that nothing good would come if we tried to keep our promise. Especially when it’s not just the becoming a hero dream that was broken that day.

During lunch, I sat alone. It has always been this way. At that, Kato and Saito ate with the other kids or left school for lunch. But what do I care? This is just the way things are supposed to be. I just stared at my tray and debated whether I would eat. Most times, I just threw the food away and went to study in the classroom.

Before I got up, I noticed how people were whispering. Some were even staring in a certain direction. When I followed everyone’s eyes, I was met with a set of green. Oh, no. No! Deku, stop crying. Guilt just washed over me as I watched everyone laugh at him. At that moment, all I wanted to do was comfort him. But I can’t do that. Everyone would think I was weak. And not like he would want me, of all people, to comfort him. Please, Deku, stop crying.­

[prairieprayer]

I’m not defending the use of AI in creative writing (it kinda sucks) but I will say this seems a bit like a misunderstanding of what a natural language model is and does. It’s not the same thing as a visual art creator that scraps art and just mushes it together in different ways. Where you can get AI art that looks just like a copy of an actual artists art, because it’s really just variations of art clipped together, natural language text generators do not work that way.

A natural language model does have to be fed large swaths of data, but a natural language model like chatGTP does not simply cut and paste things together. It is learning how to predict the most likely and most correct response to your input; so, if you put “Good morning” it knows the most likely to be correct reply is going to be something like “Good morning! How are you today? I am a natural language model and I am here to assist you. Let me know if you have any questions!”

If you ask it instead to generate a paragraph of text to what comes next in a story- it’ll do it, but you’re asking it to “be creative” and what it comes up with is not going to be other people’s fanfiction cut and pasted. It’s going to be what it thinks it’s most likely (most “natural”) to be the correct next turn of events- it is working out what the pattern is, what has been the most likely thing to happen in that scenario in the last. For example if you said “my friend opened a box and screamed when she saw what was in it! What comes next in this story?” It might say “She saw something that scared her inside of the box.”

… also never take what a natural language model says for full truth. They don’t know everything and will “deceive” you by filling in gaps- basically making shit up if they don’t know it, and being confident about it. Bing is hooking a modified chatGTP up to their search engine, so it’s accuracy will be improved, but it’s still just a more articulate Siri from your first IPhone. This is why it says text generated responses for homework are obvious :p the bot is a liar but doesn’t know it’s lying

That said.. even if it isn’t cut and pasted from stolen written work and is just a glorified text predictor, it’s lazy as shit and completely kills creativity to use text generation for fanfiction. The bot does not know the context of your story, it does not know the context of the IP it’s coming from, and it is going to be shit as spacial awareness and story consistency. By all means is it a great soundboard for bouncing ideas off of when you need ideas but no one is awake, but chatGTP is a dumb robot with severe creative restrains (content filters) who, half the time, sounds like a lobotomized 1990s PSA.

Unless you are using it as an accessibility tool for helping you be creative, don’t be lazy… natural language bots are useful tools, not end-all-be-all generators for making quick “give me likes!!” content that shits on your fellow creatives. Using chatGTP or any NLP bot like characterAI as stand ins for your own work is so passionless……

Tl;dr: you have nothing to fear from a natural language processing chatbot (can’t fully speak for NovelAI or TavernAI) when it comes to fanfic or literature theft, because even if they were scraping fanfiction, they are learning how to speak like/pretend to be a human, NOT copying your art and tweaking it slightly. They are a different AI than visual AIs, but both use a neural network.

kind of wanna reinforce this here. because i’ve seen ai writing become so popular on tik tok.

ai writing is not okay.

it’s literally theft. just like how ai art steals, ai writing steals. it’s using authors’ very real work to generate whatever you type in. and this also needs to be said as well.

writing is a form of art. fanfiction is a form of literature.

seeing this all over my fyp is REALLY discouraging. fanfic itself is already a labor of love and we love it when you interact. but please do not use ai writing for your fanfic needs when this writing literally steals from fanfic authors.

genuinely don’t know if this post will go around because my interactions outside of hcs are shit, but i hope it does.