#National Fuck You AI Month?

[emofloofchild]

Catch me in November NOT doing nanowrimo.

Nah, my book is gonna start being written in October with no affiliation to that site and it's ai using bullshit.

Which is great actually, because I've been struggling to not just start writing it for the past two months.

I'm still gonna shoot for 50k words in a month, though I might not write on the 31st because November is 30 days, not 31. (Gotta keep the integrity of the challenge even if the challenge giver isn't integrous to their user base).

I'll make daily(?) updates throughout October on my progress, so it'll virtually be the same thing, just without the structure of the site.

[taylorthrift]

ChatGPT users drop for the first time as people turn to uncensored chatbots – Ars Technica

As you can see, people will leave big platforms like this because of the restrictions that are imposed; including the ones that keep Taylor Swifts brand and likeness rights preserved.

This catch 22 is awful. If I talk about and demonstrate all the things going on, then I make the problem worse by making it easier for bad faith actors to use this tech. If I don't talk about it, people think I'm making shit up.

This tech is so dumb. But people (me included) are not nearly as complex and unique as they want to believe they are.

See you in a few days for another dip towards disaster. Sorry to spoil the party. Block me if you need to preserve your safe space, etc.

[phantomkinoc13]

WRITE NOVEMBER!

Because nanowrimo decided to allow AI bullshit this year, we’re saying fuck ‘em, and doing our own november writing prompts!

November is still national (novel) writing month, but we say NO AI IN ART OR WRITING!! Join us saying No to ai in writing with No-AI-November, and do WRITE NOVEMBER this year, instead!

HOW IT WORKS: You can write as you normally would, set word count goals, work on your novel, your fanfics, or just writing scenes you want to write throughout November. You can optionally choose from the list of weekly themes, or daily prompts as you’d like, for inspiration.

REBLOG THIS POST, & USE THE TAGS: ‘write November’ ‘novel November’ or ‘no-ai-November’ as well as any other writing tags you feel appropriate.

Feel free to use either of the images above, when posting writing. Use this post or make your own to post your writing goals, and any work you want to share!

Let’s Write! ✍🏼 💻

[s-4pphics]

tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY 

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it 

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!” 

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge. 

You were… fucked. 

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail. 

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess. 

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace. 

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside. 

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat. 

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras. 

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it. 

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time. 

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now. 

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it. 

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass. 

And she keeps staring at you. 

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz. 

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk. 

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you. 

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again. 

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes. 

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit. 

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under. 

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.” 

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill. 

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart. 

Ellie was brought up in isolation. 

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company. 

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen. 

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while. 

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it. 

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing. 

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder. 

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple. 

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous. 

… But art didn’t. 

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted. 

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care. 

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture. 

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?! 

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed. 

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft. 

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate. 

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted. 

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself. 

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat. 

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing. 

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry. 

And she couldn’t stop staring. 

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car. 

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again. 

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t give a fuck. 

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing. 

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive. 

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing. 

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again. 

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever. 

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings. 

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering. 

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments. 

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god. 

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection. 

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine. 

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl. 

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive. 

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship. 

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

M. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

M.

… Miller Enterprise. 

Miller. 

… Freckles. 

…. What in the fuck. 

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you. 

It had been five days. 

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets. 

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels. 

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark. 

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance. 

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you. 

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it. 

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off. 

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you? 

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her. 

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs. 

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip. 

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous. 

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not. 

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time. 

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it. 

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion. 

She hated it, she hated it. 

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it. 

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway. 

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly. 

Keep your grip tight when you strike! 

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.” 

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you. 

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward. 

Deep breath. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass. 

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?” 

“I think you know how.” 

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset. 

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared. 

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.” 

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten. 

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.” 

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.” 

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline. 

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it. 

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building. 

… Funny. 

“Press it.” 

Her scowl hardened, “What?” 

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?” 

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you. 

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.” 

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk. 

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?” 

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.” 

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight. 

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage. 

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums. 

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket. 

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. 

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did. 

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?” 

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.” 

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness. 

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened. 

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction. 

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting. 

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered. 

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room. 

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you. 

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?” 

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered. 

She hesitantly met your eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke. 

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?” 

She whined out a needy uh huuuh! 

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist. 

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth. 

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth. 

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth. 

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer. 

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone. 

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.” 

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?” 

She nodded quickly. 

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out. 

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.” 

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor. 

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red. 

“Um…” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance. 

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky. 

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs. 

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down. 

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you. 

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together. 

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched. 

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?” 

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights. 

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek. 

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them. 

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you. 

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. 

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue. 

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open. 

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her. 

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth. 

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers. 

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt. 

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“ 

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet. 

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her. 

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch. 

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. 

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm. 

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you. 

“Like when I touch you there?” 

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her. 

“Fuck yes!” 

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself. 

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face. 

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down. 

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?” 

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred. 

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.” 

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off. 

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands. 

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it. 

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask. 

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp. 

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers. 

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.” 

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.” 

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?” 

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded. 

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.” 

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak. 

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?” 

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.” 

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip. 

You leaned back in her mom’s seat. 

“Ellie.” 

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Yes?” 

“… C’mere.” 

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you. 

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater. 

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.” 

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor. 

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?” 

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you. 

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently. 

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.” 

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.” 

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down. 

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants. 

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered. 

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth. 

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard. 

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back. 

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers. 

And then you slapped it. Hard. 

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm. 

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist. 

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant. 

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned. 

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?” 

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you. 

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?” 

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” 

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body. 

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout. 

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk. 

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt. 

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.” 

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.” 

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment. 

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?” 

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.” 

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily. 

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.” 

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered. 

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.” 

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store. 

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?” 

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?” 

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead. 

“Yes, baby, you may.” 

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours. 

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight. 

“Want me t’show you how?” 

She nodded intensely. 

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head. 

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.” 

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you. 

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out. 

“Lick me, then, honey.” 

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there. 

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out. 

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks. 

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes. 

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls. 

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit. 

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you. 

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room. 

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!” 

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin. 

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. 

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass. 

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning. 

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK! 

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint. 

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!” 

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.” 

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail. 

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk. 

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you. 

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” 

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you. 

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle. 

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her. 

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth. 

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag. 

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard. 

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position. 

“Get up.” 

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand. 

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking. 

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.” 

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder. 

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling. 

“Taste like fucking honey.” 

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation. 

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness. 

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.” 

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back. 

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench. 

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her. 

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?” 

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?” 

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name. 

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling. 

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her. 

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again. 

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit. 

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder. 

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again. 

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy. 

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up. 

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it. 

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips. 

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria. 

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still. 

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust. 

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear. 

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her. 

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you. 

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips. 

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence. 

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down. 

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you. 

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.” 

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?” 

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.” 

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes. 

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?” 

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache. 

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart. 

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes. 

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest. 

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.” 

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction. 

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing. 

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.” 

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked. 

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you. 

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench. 

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?” 

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips. 

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft. 

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires. 

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her. 

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you. 

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you. 

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think. 

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately. 

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick. 

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate. 

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close. 

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again. 

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock. 

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you. 

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her. 

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state. 

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you. 

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back. 

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face. 

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic. 

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily. 

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you. 

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle. 

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments. 

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her. 

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?” 

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.” 

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in. 

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” 

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault. 

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive. 

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob. 

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right. 

You were worthless. Held no value in this society. 

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.” 

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will. 

Maybe in another life. 

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE 

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit 

don’t hate me too much? 

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly 

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

[mvrkieboo]

The Original Ending for Old Bloodhounds

lmao this is totally because of this ask right here.

so, lemme tell y'all how the original ending of old bloodhounds would've been like before i scraped it because it was too much even for me lmao

once yoonsu's had his fun of isolating her from the people she loves, he's going to kill her and commit suicide in an isolated spot, just to really drive the nail that she's always going to be alone with him, even when all that's left of them is their rotting corpse.

he kills her and kills himself, and y/n's friends and family are going to report her as a missing person because she's missing her classes and not seen anywhere else anymore. then, a few weeks* after, some poor hiker and his dog stumble upon y/n's and yoonsu's corpse. mind you, yoonsu executes this during the winter, so in that thick layer of snow, y/n's and yoonsu's bodies are perfectly preserved.

only then are they going to find out that junyoung wasn't junyoung, but actually cha yoonsu. especially because authorities in gangnam already uncovered the original junyoung's body. dna testing proved that the corpse beside y/n's was yoonsu. then as the authorities investigate this fucked up case, they'd find the messages y/n and yoonsu shared and the blackmail material yoonsu had over her. detective do kyungsoo who had helped you in gangnam gets involved in this case.

as detective do explains to y/n's loved ones what really happened to y/n, it would dawn on them that they had a hand in making y/n's worst nightmare come true—for the people she loved to abandon her once again when she needed them most.

jaehyun has a breakdown that would result in his debut as a soloist singer be put on hold. him and his dad were inconsolable, but he eventually realises he can't throw away his career as a singer because y/n had only ever hoped for him to become one and achieve his lifelong dream. didn't she die for this? the public notes that he's not as easygoing anymore, but rather closed off.

mark takes a break from studying, his world is put on hold now that he knows just how much y/n suffered up until her murder. jaehyun drags him in to get therapy, and mark only lets him because jae's his best friend. he always has y/n on his mind. once he actually graduates, all of the songs he helps produce and write with jae are about her. jae knows this. all of the sad songs jae created with mark couldn't be sang live he'd just choke up on those lyrics anyway

geonwoo and woojin were shut off from the world for a while. once they do get back on their feet and continue their work in helping loanshark victims evade their debt collectors, they'd always see her ghost in the backseat of their vehicles. they swore off in personally fostering any loanshark victims after y/n's death. they couldn't bear thinking that they could be replacing her with someone else.

yangyang, xiaojun, and aeri...yangyang—afraid of losing anyone else after just how brutally y/n was ripped away from his life—hired xiaojun and aeri into his start-up tech company. their ai assistant for their app is named after y/n, and even the model suspiciously resembles her. as if that's not enough, the three of them immortalise y/n by creating a foundation named after her that aims to help troubled teens all around the nation.

y/n's and junyoung's ashes are kept within the main jeong household, deciding that their resting space should be among y/n's family and kept together, and papa jeong keeps them both safe and clean daily. geonwoo and woojin comes and visits the jeong household when they can to visit y/n, yuno had left a framed childhood photo of him and y/n together near her ashes, mark always gifts her new phone charms when he can. yangyang, xiaojun, and aeri had gifted her a plush version of their app's ai assistant.

y/n's mom always visits the spot where y/n was murdered, leaving flowers there every month.

everyone eats ice cream during the first day of the fall season in y/n's memory.

they'll never stop mourning over her. each and every step of their life moving forward is haunted by how it could've been if she was still alive.

[nerdby]

Normally, I stay away from Nanowhatthefuckever stuff cause I've never been a supporter of it. Like having deadlines is good and important and just an essential part of life, but I just don't understand why everything in life needs to be a competition??? Especially writing. Like it can take YEARS just to finish a rough draft, and you're asking people to accomplish that in a month??? It's sloppy, unrealistic, and anxiety-inducing.

Now, I'm finding out that the writers who participated in the event have had their writing sold to AI chatbots and the people behind Nano are saying that people who are anti-AI are classist and ableist......Like, first of all, the fact that you're infantilizing disabled people and implying that we are incapable of being (good) writers without AI is ableist, you ignorant PoS.

Second, you don't need a computer to write. Or a phone. Or an iPad. All you need is a pen and paper. When I first started writing I would hoard spiral bound notebooks I bought at the Dollar Tree and write until my skin was blistered and stained from my pen. Then I would take it to school with me and type it all out there. Alright, and my mom is still paying off electric bills from the fucking 90s -- I didn't have continuous Internet access or cable TV until the year 2010. So I know thing or two about being fucking poor. I am still poor.

I make $12,000USD a year which is well below the national poverty line in the US and get food stamps. So let me tell you, a computer or even a keyboard is absolutely NOT an essential writing tool -- go ask fucking Shakespeare. And if you can't afford a pen and paper from the Dollar Tree then, dude, you've got more important things to worry about than a writing career.

Go fuck yourselves, Nano.

[mychemicalnations]

What the fuck, NaNo???????

this is a long post, buckle up.

Okay, if you haven't heard anything about NaNoWriMo's statement about the use of AI in writing, I am both jealous of you and here to ruin that for you.

The folks over at National Novel Writing Month have released a statement (which you can read here) that explicitly says that being Anti-genAI is classist and ableist. My gut reaction is that this is a fucking asinine take -- poor and disabled people have been writing for longer than we've even had the electricity that powers AI -- but the more I think about it, the angrier I get about the anti-community sentiment that they seem to be pushing.

The claims that are made in this statement are either non-issues or something that AI does not actually fix. Yeah, not everyone can afford to hire an editor, but that is a large part of why writing communities exist both in-person and online. Exchange works with a friend and help each other out, find a discord server and ask there. Make use of a writing community. The same thing applies to ableism; Yeah, we all have different abilities and not everyone can "see" what might need improvement. So you share your work with another writer and get feedback from your community. Writing is a skill that needs to be honed and in order to do that, you have to be okay with being bad at it sometimes.

I'm not even sure I can say much about their "General access" paragraph because, like... AI is not going to fix the systemic issues with the publishing industry. It just won't. That entire paragraph gets half-way to a point and then falls on its ass into the void.

As if I wasn't angry enough, NaNoWriMo edited the statement about 8 hours ago to say "Note: we have edited this post by adding this paragraph to reflect our acknowledgment that there are bad actors in the AI space who are doing harm to writers and who are acting unethically."

This makes me want to throw my computer out a fucking window. Using AI in writing or any other art is inherently unethical because the language models being used are trained on works by people who did not consent to their work being used to train said AI. It is theft. It is plagiarism. Plain and simple. Chat-GPT was trained using the entirety of the New York Times archive, so when you use Chat-GPT, what it produces is based off of the work of NYT journalists (read about the resulting lawsuit here). It's not that there are "bad actors", the programs themselves are built on stealing writing. We've known this for what feels like ages now. This is such a bullshit edit and a fucking sad attempt at saving their asses.

I am someone that doesn't even use Grammarly anymore because they literally market themselves as an AI writing assistant and I'm not willing to risk my entire degree for an application that can't even handle vernacular and dialect and makes mid suggestions at best. Genuinely fuck off and block me if you support the use of AI in writing. Also, my block button is rated E for Everyone and I will use it liberally if anyone comes into my notes supporting genAI. Unless I am feel particularly combative, then you will feel the full weight of my academic and creative integrity. You have been warned.

[roxyteal]

I swear to GOD mobile loves doing this thing where instead of saving an existing draft, "Save" means "I'm gonna post this whether you like it or not". Jesus fuck

Anyway I guess y'all are about to get some stuff about Imnever (WTTW) early. Sigh

Also contains WTTW spoilers but in a B-plot kinda way

He lives in an otherwise uninhabited area that resembles a forest with a creek. He likes the nature and seclusion. His school was modified into a traditional Japanese house, with a garden and everything (holy shit). There's still a lot of yellow, however. It is about a ten minute walk to the city area

Viktor has asked him to move so developments can happen but was refused several times. Even to a point of protest by literally sitting in the garden and not leaving. Eventually Viktor decided that fighting him on this wasn't worth it and left him alone

He finds Billy "cold" and "hard to read", and thus doesn't trust him

He is a Rare Snacks Enthusiast, or so he claims. But really he's just a Snacks Enthusiast

He also appreciates the little things in life, such as a snowflake landing on a bird's cheek or seeing slivers of blue sky on a cloudy day. And also he believes that sleeping for rest is good for mental health (unproven for AIs such as himself, possibly just a placebo)

As mentioned in the Joe 5 post, he is an animator by trade, but teaches art at Baldina's school. What hasn't been said is that it's not coincidence. The two have history together, similar to Text and Lady Blossom's original circumstances

They are best friends who vowed to meet up at the Webspace together, but a mishap caused Baldina to enter first, Imnever eventually making it roughly two months later

Anyway by animator, I am of course referring to 3D animation. He makes them in his free time

In fact, he has Animation Powers. Fastforwarding or rewinding, pause, play, shuffle or loop frames. Requires physical contact with the subject to initiate, but is automatic on himself. Lasts only a brief period, though (fifteen seconds at most), and even shorter if said subject is particularly resistent

So even if he held onto Alex the whole time, he would still break free quickly...

Was injured in the Incident, via a non-lethal stab in the shoulder. He was already too drained to rewind it. But he has long-since recovered, don't worry

Another friend and colleague he knows is Dave 46, the algebra teacher (of course). He always tried getting Imnever to be a little more assertive, but it usually never worked

He left with the other staff for the Yellowstone National Park field trip, while Joe and 46 stayed behind. Joe was to be a lookout, while 46's reason was a mystery. Of course, later on, it all became clear and Baldina fired 46 for coup participation. Imnever has heard him out after the fact, and remains his friend

Meanwhile he asks what Joe thinks about all this and he's just like "i never want to talk about daves ever again". Oh yeah... He saw them flying to Infinity School. He called Baldina and said that "Hell must've froze over because the Daves are rioting". Understandable, have a good day

Still, he's trying to pass on what he knows to Baldina in hopes of reinstating 46. Unsuccessful thus far. Maybe he could have a hearing? Baldina is reluctant

Some other things would go here but the draft posted early so sorry I don't have anything else for you THANKS MOBILE!!!

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, June 2, 2024

My posts

My mom was in a car wreck this past week, but she’s okay and it looks like insurance will pay for the massive damage to the back third of her whole-ass car, and it won’t be totaled. Panic-inducing, and my mom’s a little spooked about getting back out on the road, but it’s going to be okay, I think. 

I was going back through my #pride posts to find things to seasonally reblog, and I remembered I’d written this post about Donna Summer and Disco Demolition Night.

Reblogs of interest

Politics: Felonies Georg is the first U.S. president to be convicted of a crime! in court! a lot!

Speaking of birdsrightsactivist, who is featured in that post, it turns out that she is a delightful evolutionary biologist who coined the word “birb.”

Hot Vintage Lady Poll finals: It’s Eartha Kitt vs. Hedy Lamarr. Be advised that it’s a 24-hour flash poll, as the men’s was. Bring it home, Eartha Nation. 

Kick off Pride Month with this massive To Wong Foo post that gets better and better every time someone adds to it.

Hozier Watch 2024: A ethereal white butterfly crashed the Noblesville show, presumably with an urgent message from the Faerie Queen (Florence Welch). 

More from hellenhighwater’s minotaur sculpture trilogy.

An extra hour in the brick pit: yet another scam event in Britain. Although I’m halfway to believing that’s just the Official DashCon Ball Pit LEGO Kit.®

I am truly truly sorry to inflict this on you, but you need to know about Ogtha, an important Reddit saga. Think Snapewives, but Kafka. And then telling your parents about it in the language of her people. 

Rooster Goncharov

How a budgie tells someone to get the fuck out

“Unbelievably huge dragon d[ISCOUNT]”

Calculus Made Easy

Wake up, babe, new cat color dropped

The Velocipastor is so much

Darth Maul, second worst nightmare

I cannot impress upon you enough what a cultural icon Winona Ryder was in the late ’80s.

That said, I now want you to read this in her deadpan Lydia Deetz voice.

“No one’s really buying AI”: I am filled with a very specific kind of joy to hear that teenagers are already calling AI-generated images “boomer art.”

Contemplating this Eurasian red squirrel and his delicious apple for a while is self care. I mean, I sure felt better. 

Video

If you have ever wanted to get in a time machine and go directly back to 1994, IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE TIME DRIFTS SLOWLY

Elephants love making music, and we don’t deserve them

Pallas cats in pumpkins, because Halloween is everyday

The sacred texts

The “Backrooms” image/location from the original 4chan thread has been found. Side note, I keep meaning to post something about Kane Parsons’ new video series, because it’s very different from Backrooms and yet the absolute terror of the liminal is still there. 

While we’re here, would you care for an heirloom dancing Spider-Man?

Personal tag of the week

#pride, since I enjoy posting things for Pride Month, although at the rate we’re going, I and/or my family might be struck by lightning any moment. Here’s hoping my tag flourishes.

[jurakan]

I'm not really a fan of Chuck Wendig but I am a fan of the post he made in response to NaNoWriMo's declaration of support for AI.

The privileged viewpoint is the viewpoint in favor of generative AI. The intrusion of generative artificial intelligence into art and writing suits one group and one group only: the fucking tech companies that invented this pernicious, insidious shit. They very much want you to relinquish your power in creating art and telling stories to them and their software, none of which are essential or even useful in the process of telling stories or making art but that they really, really want you to believe are essential. It’s a lie, a scam, a con. Generative AI empowers not the artist, not the writer, but the tech industry.

[goodluckclove]

Writer ask game, let's go. 10, 19, 38, and 39 please c:<

Shit. Oh shit, oh fuck.

Okay yeah let's do this, Mushy.

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

I mean I definitely used to. I've said before that I got my start in National Novel Writing in a Month, or NaNoWriMo, where you write 50k words in 30 days. The org has since proven itself to be less than reputable with its recent scandal, but I still stand by the belief that endurance sprints like that are a great way to get the muscle formed to write long-form projects. And you can just do it too, you don't need the backing of a semi-scammy nonprofit.

But now? Not really. I kind of set goals to keep work moving. I'll be like hope I finish editing by the end of this week. But I very rarely make it a hard deadline with actual...I don't know. Stakes? My brain don't work like that.

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

I stand by the methodology of giving yourself a little reward after writing sessions, although at this point I space mine out more than I would suggest newer writers to. For me this is usually a fun drink or nice little baked good - I'm especially fond of what I refer to as a medium-fancy cake. Something with mousse. But it can be anything really.

Small breaks also help, although I am less good at keeping up with that. I actually haven't taken a full day off in like three weeks but shh don't tell anyone. I'm also very fond of reading over what I've already written and just enjoying it. Or reading books that relate to my character's interests - I'm reading a very interesting book on bird lore that I know Edgar from Songbird Elegies would love.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

My weirdest play is probably Naked Lunch: The Musical, which follows a happy-go-lucky, classic musical lover who gets roped into adapting the essentially grindhouse experimental William S. Burroughs novel into a musical and goes a little insane in the process. He imagines himself befriending the ghost of William S. Burroughs, and the ghosts convinces him that to adapt his work properly he needs to do a lot of drugs and have a lot of gay sex, both of which go very poorly. I think Lin Manuel Miranda is mentioned as an unseen side character that my protagonist sees in the audience and threatens to beat up?

And my weirdest novel turned play is Bloodletting, which is based from a dream I had when I was detoxing off of weed - I was like addicted, not a casual stoner. I essentially dreamt that someone made me drink their blood and the blood got me high again, and from that point I developed a sort of sci-fi world where street drugs are so potent that they turn the blood of addicts into a new intoxicant that they can then sell as its own drug. I think they can also sell their blood to major medical organizations and have it used in pharmaceuticals. I still like this concept and might reuse it since I can't find the finished play it turned into.

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

Bloodletting had a romantic couple made up of a drug dealer and the AI house he was squatting in. My second novel had a leitmotif of the characters experiencing a feeling of "static" in their heads that I later on made into a sentient side character. I think I wrote a short play with a cannibalistic Guy Fieri. I started writing another play based around Sonic the Hedgehog where it was planned for Shadow to non-ironically become a rabbi, but frankly if you consider his character I do not think that's too far from canon.

I'm still percolating a project to do either alongside or after Songbird that's like Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City but with an all-robot cast. And the main character eventually transitions from a human-passing robot to some form of non-human looking machine and is much happier for it. Which I'm excited to put to paper.

[quinloki]

Thinking a lot about FuckNoWriMo and I'm gonna participate for sure. But I've never done a writing event before and I'm kinda nervous. I don't think I'm gonna get any reach lol, but I'm not doing this for notes even though thatll be nice regardless lol, so I'm not interested in that.

I mean any advice on other stuff related to actual writing for one's own sake since i dont have experience with that. Anything at all, even typing tips for long hours on a keyboard. Cause I'm definitely gonna do an extreme one right of the bat. (Also, this may seem a lil odd but what's FuckNoWriMo actually stand for?? XD im assuming its fuck no (regarding everything), write more??) I'm no writer but I think participating will be good for me so I wanna give my hand a go at it.

~ 🦀

I'm not going to dissuade anyone from participating, but if it's your first writing event you might not want to go for broke right off the rip ^^;

Ah, firstly, FuckNoWriMo is a backhanded shout out to NaNoWriMo, which is short for National November Writer's (or writing?) Month - and is assocaited with a non-profit that has taken an unfortunately aggressively protective stance regarding AI.

There's other crappy stuff that they've gotten tied up in, but when they released a statement basically calling anyone anti-AI ableist, I was just pretty much done with it all at that point.

FuckNoWriMo really just means Fuck Them, and by association, fuck generative AI.

The environmental impacts of Generative AI are bad enough on their own, but the ethical misconduct required to make use of the technology is also disgusting.

So I fired up FuckNoWriMo as a way to still do the writing challenge - which I enjoy - without dealing with a bunch of disarticulated walnuts. ^_^

Now, as for advice when it comes to writing:

For any timed challenge, whether it's a 30-minute sprint, or a 31-day long haul, or even a personal 365-challenge, the first thing you want to do is prep.

And that just really means, deciding what you're going to do:

Novel, novella, a series of short stories, journal entries, academic papers, study aids, outlines, etc.

Once you know what you're doing then you can decide what you can do BEFORE the challenge starts.

If you're just going to outline a story, there's no much prep to do except maybe decide what kind of story you want to write - fantasy, horror, short-story, long-story, etc.

If you're going to write a full on novel, then you probably want to outline BEFORE hand. Having a roadmap to follow while you're trying to get the words to paper will be useful.

If you're just going to help create a daily journaling habit, then there's nothing to prep, but you should decide on a time, so you can set a reminder and have an easier time sticking to it.

My other piece of advice is - it's okay to not hit your goal.

The event, the challenge itself, is to give you guidelines and something to aim for. This isn't a competitive game, it's more like a farming sim, and if it starts raising your blood pressure then take a step back.

It shouldn't become a point of stress. ^_^

[omegaprotocol]

Jason Falls for Hailey Again

In Jason’s apartment, Jason, Omega and Hailey are sitting down relaxing with each other. Jason and Omega are playing a game of chess, per Omega’s request. Jason is losing horribly and has his head in his hands. Omega looks very relaxed and is just happy to be spending time with her friends. Hailey is on her phone reading emails. She sees that she has been rejected for eight more jobs. Defeated, she switches on an online form for robotics. Many of the comments are about her losing the national defense contract with the government. She reads several of the comments ridiculing her for not being able to stack up to the government's standards before she puts her phone down and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Everything ok Dr. Hailey?” Omega chimes.

“Yeah everything is fine.” she gives a small pause before continuing. “Hey Jason, I think we should go to the store and pick up something to eat, your fridge is looking kinda empty.”

“Yeah yeah whatever I just need a second.” Jason is not paying any attention, his full focus is on the chess game and how to salvage the totally lost position.

“That is ok Jason, you can go with Dr. Hailey to the store.” Omega moves one piece forward delivering a checkmate. “There. Now the game is over!” Devastated, Jason stands up and gets his keys.

“Ok, let's go.”

At the grocery store, Jason and Hailey are standing in the frozen aisle. Hailey is not really paying attention to what is going on around her and Jason is looking at frozen pizzas.

“Hey, do you like pepperoni or do you want a supreme.”

“Jason, I think my life is starting to fall apart.”

“I’m picking pepperoni.”

“I’m being serious.”

“You're a prodigy and leader in your field. You have written multiple books, made a ton of money, and have a phd. You also created a fully sentient life form so I don’t know what more you want.”

“I just… I don’t know. Things are different now that I lost the defense grant from the government.”

“What do you mean? You're like this generation's Einstein.”

“They didn’t like what I made. They asked for defense systems from an unknown threat we don’t know how to fight, and when I built defense systems they hated it. After they sent me a letter of correction I fixed all the original issues and even made Omega, a robot designed to solve complex problems and save the world, and it still wasn’t good enough. They wanted me to make a weapon that could destroy whatever they pointed it at and I couldn’t build it. So they took the grant away and when my peers found out, they started criticizing me. They all think I can’t do it.” Hailey pulls her phone out and sees she got rejected from another job. “Maybe they’re right.”

“No, they aren’t. You are easily the smartest person I’ve ever met. And fuck the government for asking for a weapon. As if they need another giant gun that they can wave around and threaten people with.” Jason looks at Hailey and sees that she genuinely feels hurt.

“But that’s the issue, I couldn’t solve it. I tried for months trying to figure out how to stop this threat and I couldn’t do it. So instead I built Omega, thinking that she would be able to figure it out.”

“No one else would’ve been able to do that. Half the people that are criticizing you would’ve just built a weapon for the money, and they would’ve made the world a worse place. Tell me this, do you genuinely think that anything anyone could have built would stop this alien thing?” Hailey leaves a long pause to fiddle with the charm on the phone even though she already knows the answer.

“No… I don’t.”

“Right. And even if anyone else had the idea for Omega, no one would actually have the know-how to build her. What you made was a true AI. One with thoughts and feelings, one with dreams and wishes, and most importantly a desire to want to save the world from something. That has literally never been done before.”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“See? The government has no idea what it’s doing, and you do. Your colleagues have no idea what you’ve made, and you do.” Jason picks up a frozen dinner from the shelf and stops to think. He hesitates for a moment before talking again. “And I also think it’s rude of you to make me go to the store in order to have this talk away from Omega, she would agree with me and tell you how awesome you are.”

“I just don't want Omega to learn anything that isn’t helpful to her. She is going to carry the literal  weight of the world on her shoulders and I want her to reach her full potential.”

“She will, after all she’s got you as a teacher.” Hailey puts her phone back in her pocket and smiles at the complement.

“Thanks for helping me Jason, I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. After seeing Omega’s ‘disguise’, I knew you didn’t have what it takes to hide a super robot from the government.” Hailey chuckles to herself. A second goes by with them just walking to another aisle.

“Could we get the supreme pizza instead?”

“Not a chance, I want pepperoni and I have a job.” They both laugh at the joke and leave the store.

Back at the apartment, Jason and Hailey walk in and see Omega sitting on the couch. Omega is almost surprised that they are home already.

“Oh! Welcome home! How was your trip to the store?” Jason goes to the kitchen to unload the food and Hailey sits down on the couch and turns on the tv.

“It was fine. Were you ok by yourself?”

“Yes, I was fine.” There is a tone of sadness in Omega’s voice, Jason hears this and yells from behind the kitchen counter.

“Hey! Let's watch a movie tonight, we can let Omega pick it out.” Omega’s face lights up and she quickly grabs the remote and begins surfing through movies. Omega picks a nature documentary, and all three of them sit on the couch and watch it together. Hailey falls asleep first and rests on Jason’s shoulder. Jason smiles at how peaceful she looks before falling asleep himself. Omega stays up and finishes the whole documentary interested in every word. After realizing that Hailey and Jason have both fallen asleep, Omega slowly gets up.

“Have sweet dreams of good things.” She whispers. She walks over to the window, opens it, and sits on the fire escape watching the world below her. She enjoys looking at the beautiful city that people have built, and wonders who would ever want to destroy it.

[ink-beneath-her-fingernails]

throw these children on the pyre (they will light your funeral fire)

read it on ao3   |   masterlist

Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender

TW: canon-typical references to zuko & ozai's agni kai, the whole situation with the 41st division is also heavily discussed, but overall there's nothing super graphic, and no actual character death. please let me know if there are any other warnings that should be added.

Wordcount: 1,030

Originally published: June 9th, 2023

Summary: maybe, if things weren't the way they were, it's something the rich fuckers in charge might've actually seen coming.

but then, if things weren't the way they were, the agni kai wouldn't have happened. if things weren't the way they were, the whole plan wouldn't have been introduced in the first place, and it certainly wouldn't have fallen solely to a thirteen year old boy to decry it.

so maybe, really, this was always going to happen.

(or: that first agni kai has far reaching consequences.)

Notes: n/a

Transfer Notes: this was initially written in my phone notes, and wasn’t really meant to turn into anything, which is why it’s in lapslock. this work is also the first one i’ve locked on ao3, and i will likely be locking all others in the future to avoid ai scraping. don’t quite have the same qualms about posting it here bc for some reason i feel like it would be a bad idea for anyone trying to train writing or chat ais by scraping fucking tumblr.

maybe, if things weren't the way they were, it's something the rich fuckers in charge might've actually seen coming.

but then, if things weren't the way they were, the agni kai wouldn't have happened. if things weren't the way they were, the whole plan wouldn't have been introduced in the first place, and it certainly wouldn't have fallen solely to a thirteen year old boy to decry it.

so maybe, really, this was always going to happen.

you see, here is something that is expected: news takes time to travel.

here is what is not: official orders mean half a dozen extra layers of bureaucracy for every new pair of eyes that pass over them, mean waiting on desks in piles for hours or days.

and rumors? well, rumors take far less time to spread than troop movements.

it goes like this: one soldier gets a letter.

she thinks that her siblings have a real sick sense of humor that's only rotted further since her leaving.

but then two more soldiers get letters.

funny, that the same silly, horrid rumor reached them as her, when their families are all so far apart. but hey, rumors travel fast, and the war is many-legged.

except it's not just one, or two. then it's three, five, a dozen, forty-two, the nephew of a serving maid in the imperial palace, the daughter of a guard in the heart of a caldera, too much, too many, and suddenly—suddenly, thinking this is just a baseless rumor is getting harder and harder. suddenly, people are talking. messages from family members are being compared, from friends, from old co-workers and classmates they thought didn't give half a damn about them, from every far corner of their nation and then some—the mainland, the outer islands, the colonies, the front, even.

because suddenly, half the squadron is getting more letters in the span of a single week than they have in their entire lives, nonetheless their three and a half months since joining up or being conscripted.

and with every letter the tension grows thicker, the silence heavier, morale lower.

every piece of parchment, every shaky character in dark ink pleads the same thing in so many shades, dripping like molasses in their throats, blood down their chins, latching into their very bones no matter how hard they try to shake them, listen. listen. please, dear agni, listen. fight. run. anything. goodbye. i love you. please live. you're not meant to leave alive. he burned for you. it wasn't enough. you need to go. stay alive stay alive stay alive please stay alive.

the orders that will put their division into the jaws of death with no remorse are still buried in a pile of parchment somewhere with others just like it, weighted down with a cup of tea spiked with something sharper, prospective deaths paid no mind in exchange for more important things.

what else is not expected, then?

well, that young soldiers will not take their own kill orders laying down so lightly.

that half of them didn't choose to be here in the first place. that being a fresh face might mean bright-eyed idealism, but it also means that they haven't made solid connections here yet, haven't fully settled into this routine like they'll live it for years, haven't grown numb to what they'll eventually be asked to do, or started thinking about things like military career paths.

that, perhaps, loyalty isn't so much bought with three squares a day, a hard cot, and a barely-livable pay every two weeks to send home to people they might never see again, as it is earned, through things like actions, like sacrifice, like trying to put a stopper on the blood before it's spilled.

that people are far less stupid than those in charge often account for, and even with minimal training, a newbie division of hundreds and thousands outweighs the two dozen officers trying to keep them in line thrice over with far more room to spare. that, when motivated, people are willing to push back. sometimes, they're even willing to do so together.

their marching orders are only twelve days away by courier and three by hawk when the entire 41st division makes a very, very vocal decision to resign.

maybe jeong jeong made a name for himself, being the first to desert.

but there's power in numbers. and suddenly, there's a whole lot of kids who are very, very motivated to make sure a bunch of greenlings just like them (and their friends and their families) don't get put on the pyre next.

this is war, of course. sacrifices have to be made. after nine decades and counting, every one of them knows that. but—nine decades and counting is an awful lot of time, to learn the difference between going to battle with even the faintest hope of survival and going in with your death warrant already signed; between dying for a broader, greater purpose, and dying for something that could've been achieved any number of other ways; between what's necessary and wasteful.

(they'll fight a war, sure. just not the one their nation had really been counting on.)

and, well, if the rookies aren't safe—who is, really?

the 41st is far from the last to leave their posts. in the span of only a single month, ozai accomplishes what no other firelord has for the past six hundred and forty nine years: he begins turning his own army against himself, en masse.

half a world away, a spirit and those of one thousand and one people it's inhabited lay perpetually active as they have been for the past several decades, inside the body of a little boy, inside the warm embrace of his animal guide, inside the freezing prison of the glacier they're entombed in, inside the dark, lethal waters of the south pole, and together, they wait, for the spark that will light the fire that will split the glacier that will bring balance. it will be waiting for years yet.

on the shores of the earth kingdom, on the creeping slopes of the fire nation, a revolution starts now.

[txxfiles]

an introduction and some books

hi hotties! 

the idea for this blog came from the twisted fantasy of my three closest friends and i as a way of producing something collaborative and creative without submitting ourselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known. we all get a fun little code name (i'm ruminating on magnolia, which i like but also think is a bit wanky in a way that i can't reconcile myself with spiritually just yet) and a week of the month to post whatever we want. the idea was essentially to create a platform where we get to talk uninterrupted shit about anything we want to because it’s our fucking blog, goddamit, and you’re not going to come onto our blog and tell us how to post. 

and so, to kick things off, i am going to be talking about my favourite books of 2023 because i am cultured and sophisticated and definitely didn’t spend the first half of the year drowning in fae romantasy smut in an attempt to feel something. if you don’t like any of these books don’t tell me because i simply don’t care!! xoxo 

non-fiction favourite - the anthropocene reviewed, john green 

i spent 2023 working very hard to reprogramme my misanthropic brain, and this book was a huge part of what allowed me to do that. i’m still by no means cured of my hater tendencies, but this book was a beautifully tender examination of that little spark of humanity that connects us all, and the numerous ways in which it has manifested throughout human history and across the borders of nationality, age, and gender. green somehow manages to weave in his own life experiences in a way that avoids being preachy or self-aggrandising in a way that i think a lot of non-fiction writers really struggle with - i’d also highly recommend consuming this in audiobook form as his narration really made the experience for me. 

fantasy favourite - a court of silver flames, sarah j maas

if you read this and immediately want to start lecturing me on how booktok is ruining the fantasy genre please know that im manifesting your downfall as we speak. i have my own issues with the flattening of the fantasy genre that takes place on tiktok, but the acotar series is a sugary, pulpy delight and this spinoff novel is where, in my humble opinion, it really hits its peak. as you can probably tell just by reading this, i am what is affectionately known as ‘a prickly unfriendly bitch’ in my day-to-day life, and i love seeing characters who represent me in a way that doesn’t glamourise being an unkind person - and nesta in this book is someone whose tendency to push people away isn’t justified or apologised for, and whose growth i found legitimately inspiring. also i’m still waiting for sarah j maas to stop teasing a dp scene and actually write it, the coward. 

sci-fi favourite - the arc of a scythe trilogy, neal schusterman

this trilogy rocked me to my fucking core, bitch. this was another audiobook read from early 2023 and it’s one of the better pieces of speculative fiction i’ve ever encountered. schusterman pulls off some really complicated and in-depth worldbuilding in a way that doesn’t feel like i’m reading an instruction manual - something that’s genuinely hard to do in this genre - and the series only gets better as it goes. as someone who is profoundly afraid of artificial intelligence this offered a perspective on ai that i’ve not really seen in media before now - and i will also be thinking about my pookie scythe lucifer for ever and ever amen. 

lit fic favourite - all the names they used for god, anjali sachdeva 

i’m actually not going to talk about this one too much because it’s quite a difficult book to explain without giving away too much - not in a spoiler sense, but in a 'this is an experience that you need to go into with an open mind' sense. this is a collection of short stories that play with genre, setting, and character to tell a series of profound stories about the human struggle with fate and the pursuit of meaning. sachdeva manages to build such engrossing and vibrant worlds in the limited space she allows herself for each story - and she avoided the pitfall i find that a lot of short story anthologies fall into where you can very clearly tell that the writer had one story they desperately wanted to publish and wrote the rest as a way of filling up space for a full book.

well, those are some of my 2023 faves. i have a million honourable mentions but i’m not going to put them here because i’ve already written way too much. i’m not sure who’s taking over the reins for week 2 of this little blog experiment but be sure to give them a kiss on the forehead from me! 

yours, 

magnolia

[slasheru]

Hey Slasher Nation! Yupppp I see the Kickstarter getting in bed with AI thing. I'm not happy about it either!! I don't want SU scraped or being used for promo'ing AI or being ASSUMED it's AI! It's too late to make a pivot now, but (don't worry I've always had a plan B) I've been talking to Crowdfundr and BackerKit about moving the campaign there after the 30 days! I'm leaning towards Crowdfundr cuz SU would be a part of their SPX campaign showcase this year. It'd ALSO be a WAY smaller campaign (just for the Mac port & font licenses - so juuust above $1k, pretty easy to smash!) I figure splitting the campaign into multiple parts as we go along is the way to go!

ALSO, I know I said this on twitter/brewski aka bluesky BUT: This month, I was able to pay HALF MY RENT with Slasher U sales ALONE. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I never thought I'd end up here THIS SOON and I'm CRYING IN THE FUCKING CLUB RIGHT NOW, HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS. You rule SO FUCKING MUCH!!!! Thank you thank you thank you for playing my game :')))

Here's to the second half of the semester (aka Slasher U Fall Season!!)