#gotta think of a few more prompts to draw all these guys in

[mightyfoz]

Here they are lads, all the bears in the Swap AU

if ya'll got questions for them go ahead and send me some

[steddieas-shegoes]

alone in a forest

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'pining'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 802 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush on eddie, pining

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Steve knows he shouldn’t stare. Eddie’s gonna catch him someday, call him out on his pink cheeks and bitten-red lips and know everything even without Steve saying a word. A few teammates have already called him out with knowing looks and whispered questions, and thankfully, it’s never gone further than that.

But the Bruins locker room is a hell of a place to be after a shutout, especially when Eddie was in net for it. Steve’s proud of him, knows he was worried to get in the crease after the last one he started. A 4-1 loss is tough on any goaltender, even when the team in front of him had let him down offensively.

Eddie is walking around shirtless, but still in his leg pads and skates, singing to a Metallica song Steve doesn’t know all the words to. Steve can’t look away.

He thought he’d be over it by now, or at least at a point where he could handle seeing Eddie half naked and not have to fight off a terribly-timed erection. Coach has left the room, gave them all a speech about staying strong on the ice, winning the center ice battles, taking it to the corners, etc. before he went. And now they’re all getting undressed and celebrating before media comes in.

This game clinched their playoff spot. They’re the first team in their division to clinch.

Media’s been warned.

“Stevie!” Eddie’s voice draws the attention of most of the room, and Steve’s blush creeps further down his chest. He didn’t even play, but he’s got sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “We goin’ out or goin’ home?”

Steve is known as the babysitter when they go out, not just for Eddie, but for everyone. He still lets loose plenty, but he usually sticks to one or two drinks so he can make sure all the guys stay out of trouble. He likes being the guy everyone knows will protect them.

But he’s kinda tired tonight, even though he didn’t play. He didn’t sleep well last night knowing Eddie was getting the start and feeling anxious about it. Plus, they’ll have one more early morning practice tomorrow before their all star break that he wants to be ready for.

“I’m gonna go home, but you should go out,” he answers.

Eddie gets closer, only a foot away now. He’s still beaming, still pumped from the win. The media will want to talk to him first since he got a shutout.

“Since when do I go out without you?” He asks, quieter, but not so quiet that Jeff and Gareth don’t hear. They’re both watching, waiting for Steve’s answer.

“Since you got a shutout and you should celebrate,” Steve playfully nudges his side. “I’m just tired. We can celebrate during break.”

“Just us?” Eddie asks, beaming at him.

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Eddie wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “Yeah, that sounds perfect to me.”

He continues on with his undressing and riling up the guys who are going out with him and Steve tries to focus on getting out of there. He can only handle so much of Eddie’s infectious energy before he caves and goes out and regrets it tomorrow.

Jeff slides closer to him.

“Dude, you gotta say something.”

Steve isn’t acknowledging it. He’s not even looking over at him.

“C’mon man, we’d all support you both. This is a safe space.”

Steve finally looks up and does what he always does: he pretends he doesn’t know what Jeff is talking about.

“You got any more of that cologne in your bag? Think I’m gonna shower at home tonight.”

Jeff sighs, but reaches into a side pocket of his game day bag and pulls out the cologne, handing it over to Steve with a frustrated look.

“You can’t ignore it forever, man.”

“I’m not ignoring anything.”

Jeff rolls his eyes, but Eddie walks a bit closer, so he doesn’t push.

Steve watches as Eddie throws on a shirt— probably Steve’s— and four reporters walk in with microphones ready to record a quick interview with him.

He’s charming, always has been. He’s funny and a team player and everything the media soaks up.

He flirts with everyone, that’s how Steve’s convinced himself he can’t say anything about his feelings. Eddie won’t feel the same for him, and even if he does, it could ruin everything they have if it doesn't work out.

And Steve isn’t the catch that Eddie is.

Eddie could find anyone.

Eddie will find someone, someone way more impressive than Steve.

Steve hears Eddie mention his name, but that’s not unusual.

He walks out of the locker room and heads to his car, wondering how long he can keep pining before he becomes lost in the forest.

[charbies]

linktober 31 - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I thought for the last day I'd write a little retrospective on what this whole thing was like and what I learned. I'm too tired to draw literally anything else I'm due for a break lol

So this was my second time ever attempting a linktober/october drawing challenge, but my first time managing to complete all the days and prompts. I feel super proud of myself and accomplished for pulling it off.

There were a number of things that were surprising and that were challenging for me that I wasn't expecting this month. If anything, I think this challenge really highlighted my flaws and mental blindspots with how I approach making art.

For one thing, I came away from this not liking everything I made. I think I only like about 9 or 10 of the 30 pieces I put out there. When I don't like my art, I tend to get stuck in this mental stalemate of refusing to finish a piece until I like it, but also refusing to retrace my steps and erase/rework what I have so far for fear of losing progress or not being able to replicate the line/angle/color/etc that I liked.

It was surprisingly hard to accept when I didn't like a piece but had to move on for the sake of time and post it anyway. But once I did it a few times, it got easier. I realized prioritizing my standards over my available energy is not gonna promote progress. If I kept sinking myself into one piece and not moving on until it was optimal, I never would have finished anything-- that was the pitfall that ultimately made me bail out 10 days in last year.

I also realized my sunk cost fallacy/"what if I erase this and can never redraw it good again" stems from some real lack of confidence in my knowledge and techniques with art. I'm self-taught, and I think I tend to believe that everything I make is a dumb happy accident, even though I have mental rules when I draw, use tons of references, and have a process lol. There are a few pieces I started over 2-3 times before I got them right, and that's starting to feel liberating instead of like failing to me now, which I never expected to come out of this experience so that's cool.

Another place I had to learn to let go of control in this was with allowing for style variation. I really wanted each and every piece to be coherent and painterly, like they all came from the same book or something. But then I couldn't decide whether I wanted to do all/no lineart, all/no detailed background, all/no heavy rendering, etc. At the end I settled on just keeping the same canvas dimensions and just prioritizing filling up the space. Glad I ended up doing this, because I really would benefit from continuing to chill out and scale back how much I default to making dramatic, high-render pieces. I gotta break out of my comfort zone and make more sketchy little guys!

Sometimes my attachment to the prompts fluctuated; some prompts I thought I would love and then just wanted to get them over with. Some prompts I thought I would hate and subsequently half-ass, then I ended up redoing them and putting more effort & time into and loved the end result!

It was funny to also see how some pieces that I loved straight up did not get a whole lot of notes or attention. Some pieces I was "meh" about did crazy numbers lol. I'm used to posting maybe 5-6 times a year on here, so I'm usually indifferent to getting notes (by which I mean, I'm super grateful for likes & reblogs and the super sweet & funny messages in y'alls tags, but I'm not butthurt when I don't get notes because whatever happens, happens). Churning out 30 pieces in 30 days made me sometimes get bewildered by what did and didn't get notes, but frankly in the end I think it helps reaffirm that I should continue putting whatever I want out there because it! is! not! graded!!!

So would I do Linktober again? Probably not, sorry! it was a lot of time & effort and took me away from fall festivities more than I would have liked. I kinda only managed to pull this off because I was transitioning between jobs this month and had a week off to just draw. But I also completely see the value in taking on a challenge like this and finishing what I started, I'm super glad I did this, I think my art improved from it. I would definitely do future drawing challenges/prompt things that are quicker or have less prompts!

My advice to prospective future linktoberers: pace yourself and be gentle; this is a great chance to do something exciting and new with your art, but above all it's about you having fun. There are no prizes at the end except for what you've learned and how you feel about it, and that's for the best!!

One thing's for sure, I am zelda'd out lmao so I'll be branching out towards some little projects I have lined up for personal art and other fandoms I'm into right now

So anyway thanks to all of you who read this or who gassed me up this whole month, I appreciate you!!!!!!!! ヾ(＾∇＾)

[blackleatherjacketz]

Good With All Three

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, I horny-watched this movie, so I horny-wrote this story, I make no apologies!, Never Have I Ever, Alcohol, Kissing, Ari’s Magnetizing Gaze, Hands, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink (for him), Multiple Orgasms

Summary: You and Ari play a late night game of Never Have I Ever and things get very hands-on very quickly.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove​ @skittle479​ @letsby​

Read more of my stories HERE

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” Ari’s prompt leaves his lips as they curl into a smirk, their rosy color masked by the green beer bottle he nearly empties as he leans back in his seat, patiently awaiting your answer.

His questions continue to grow bolder with each sip he takes, ranging from ‘never have I eaten an insect’ to ‘never have I kissed a man’, and now to this. His eyes linger on yours a little bit longer as he draws the last few drops from his bottle, almost as if he can read your thoughts as soon as they darken. He holds your gaze until it finally breaks, venturing down to the patch of chest hair peeking out through his loosely buttoned collar.

You try your best not to envision him shirtless as you finally relent and take a defeated sip of your beer, giving yourself away.

“No shit?” He grins from ear to ear, setting his bottle down before quickly running his hands through his auburn locks. “I’m surprised.”

“Oh, really? Like you haven’t?” Surely someone as confident and attractive as Ari has ended up in a similar situation with someone in the past.

He shakes his head, sitting back up in his seat. “Too risky.” He grasps onto his bottle, examining its empty contents with a regretful sigh. “Gotta keep a low profile.”

“That makes sense.” You pause and think back on your experience in a JC Penny fitting room with your college boyfriend, remembering it with less fondness than you care to admit. “Mine was a long time ago, anyways.” You spin the base of your bottle between your fingers as one last drink swishes around inside it. “Back before all this.”

“Was it fun, at least?” He leans forward with an elbow on the table, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as his bottle nearly touches yours. “The thrill of it?”

You shrug your shoulders. “A little. It wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though.” You pretend not to notice as his knuckles brush against yours.

“Really? Why not?” His eyes have you again, the dim lighting of your fake resort matching them with the light blue denim of his shirt.

“It was a confined space, and even when he didn’t have that as an excuse… like most guys with big dicks, he didn’t really know how to use it.”

Ari gawks at you with genuine surprise, his eyebrows jumping up into his hairline as they wrinkle his forehead. “Has that been your general experience, or just with him?”

“Mostly everyone. They tend to rely on it too much, you know? And they aren’t very good with their hands or mouths, either.” You consider going into more detail about your past lovers but decide against it, the way he’s looking at you right now suggests a desire for more than historical knowledge.

“That’s a real shame.” He leans in close to you, barely whispering as the top two buttons of his shirt openly reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. “Because I’m big, and I’m pretty good with all three.”

Jesus Christ. He just came out and said it, didn’t he?

You blink a few times to properly register his words, a newfound heat brewing in your belly as you try your best to form a coherent thought. “A little cocky, aren’t we?” You manage to tease, your body picking up on his signals before your brain has the time to talk yourself out of it.

“More than a little.” He bites his lip and touches your knee with his fingertips, his thumb sliding swiftly beneath it. He grins as you try to stifle a gasp, the sudden act of intimacy shocking your touch-starved skin to the core as he gently encases your knee with his palm. He watches intently as you allow him to touch you, silently granting him permission to continue onward as you spread your legs even further apart.

“You don’t think women have lied to spare your feelings just because you’re hot?” You swallow hard and try to focus on the conversation as his hand ventures even further up your thigh, taking his time to close the gap between you.

“You think I’m hot?” He pushes the pads of his fingers toward your center, pressing them into your muscles as his thumb tickles the fine hair on the underside of your thigh.

“Maybe,” you whisper, just now noticing the rings of olive green that surround his pupils.

“Maybe?” He smiles, squeezing the bulk of your thigh as his thumb reaches the hem of your swimsuit. “I’m gonna need you to tell me the truth.” His tone shifts from playful to stern in a matter of seconds, tightening the muscles in your abdomen as he smooths his hand up your pelvis. “You think you can do that for me?” He brushes his thumb underneath the polyester just long enough to skim over your sensitive area.

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“I don’t want you to lie to me like all the other guys you’ve fucked.” He finds the tie on the side of your bikini bottom, pulling on the string that holds it together.

“Okay,” you start, trying your best not to hold your breath as his fingers warm your skin. “I definitely think you’re hot.”

“That’s good.” He unfastens the bow on your hip, his other hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as the back of your swimsuit falls onto the seat of your chair. “I think you’re hot, too.” He moves his hand across your hips to the opposite bow, unfastening it in nearly half the time. “Now if only there was a way we could solve both of our problems.”

“If only,” you whisper. You look down and watch him pull the unfastened swimwear off your body, instinctively scooting to the edge of your seat as his skilled fingers find themselves between your folds before you even have a chance to ask.

“Can you be honest?” He curls a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him, spreading your other lips apart before teasing your clit with his index finger.

“Yes,” you nod your head as he deepens his touch, rubbing it up and down as your moisture begins to collect beneath it.

“Promise me you won’t fake it?” He looks down at his hand for a split second as he sends tiny little pulses of pleasure into your skin, smirking as your breath stills in your chest.

“I promise.” You can barely speak, his intense eye contact and skilled fingers quickly proving your theory wrong as each upward motion intensifies the bliss shooting up into your core.

“I don’t want you to worry about hurting my feelings.” He moves his fingers down the length of your folds, gliding them easily inside your walls as he cradles the back of your head, his lips merely inches from yours. “I can take it.”

“Okay,” you moan into the space between you, grasping onto the loose denim of his shirt as he pushes his digits in even deeper, his knuckles now flush against your skin.

“Tell me what you want.” He reiterates, curling his fingers up and toward him, pressing against that bundle of nerves in order to pull you in closer like a fish on a hook. The legs of your chair screech across the tile floor, almost deafening the both of you as he draws you near, your entire body taking the bait as he repeats the motion over again. “Tell me.”

“I need you to touch me here.” You reach your hand down and grab his thumb, lifting it up and placing it on your clit.

He smiles at your instruction, doing as he’s told before finally leaning in to close the gap between your lips. That stale, faint flavor of beer mixes in with the sea salt still on his skin as you breathe him in, savoring his lips and tongue as they explore your mouth with more fervor than any other lover you could bother to remember. That moan of yours turns into a needy whine as he presses on that special spot from both ends, massaging you from the inside out as his thumb sends signals of immeasurable ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain.

He kisses his way down your lips and chin, his beard scratching your jawline as he moans in return against you, reacting to your silky walls clenching down around his fingers. His mouth leaves a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders, his tongue and lips marking nearly every inch of your chest and stomach with his saliva until he pushes his own chair backward while getting onto his knees.

Instead of pulling his fingers out of you, he keeps his steady rhythm going inside your slick. He looks up at you with intermittent glances of salacious pride as he presses his lips against your inner thighs, sucking scattered bruises into both of them as you softly moan his name. “I don’t want you to say my name again until you come, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, running your hands through his hair as he lifts your leg over his shoulder before diving in completely.

Every bold claim he's made up until now proves to be more than true as he licks a tantalizing stripe up each side of your dripping wet length. He slows his fingers’ pace inside of you, removing his thumb from that special spot only to quickly replace it with his hungry mouth. You try not to sigh too loudly as he laps you up, those eyes of his glancing up from time to time through strands of hair that fall in front of his face as his tongue flicks up and down in a delicately delicious pattern. A mixture of short and long strokes sends signals of euphoria throughout your body, like dots and dashes on the telegraph sending a complete and layered message into your brain until it reaches every inch of your fingers and toes, curling them in on themselves in sheer delight.

You grab a fistful of his hair as you feel yourself shudder, locking onto his eyes as he doubles down, tasting every bit of your flesh as your inner walls clamp down around his knuckles like a vice. You tug on his scalp, holding his head in place as you ride out your orgasm with his name on your lips, gyrating your hips against the tip of his nose as he continues to devour you like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“Ari!” You finally cry out as the pleasure nearly encompasses you entirely, wreaking so much havoc on your nerves and skin that you’re unsure if you can physically tolerate any more of it. Without thinking, you lift your leg up even further as he refuses to relent, planting it on his shoulder before kicking him off of you and onto the floor.

“How am I doing so far?” He laughs, smirking as he lands backward onto his elbows, the light reflecting off of the clear coat of your arousal on his lips and beard.

“Jesus,” you start, unable to stop your body from shivering in the aftershock as he looks at you like that. “I mean… good, you’re doing good.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” He stands up from his spot on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, his erection more than prominent in his jeans as he approaches you.

Good god, you almost forgot about that part.

“No,” you admit, catching your breath as your muscles continue to shake. “Not after that.”

“I believe you.” He takes your hand and helps you up onto your wobbly feet, walking with you almost as if the two of you are dancing before picking you up and setting you down onto the dinner table in one fluid motion. Your weight pulls against the tablecloth, clinking the dishes together before Ari pushes them out of the way to make room for what he’s about to do.

You can’t help but keep your legs spread apart as he steps in between them, your palm finding its way down his chest and over his clothed cock before unfastening his jeans to finally reveal what’s underneath. “Holy shit.” Your mouth falls open as his dick springs up from the denim you pull down around his thighs, its length and girth more than matching the level of confidence he always seems to have.

“I told you.” He raises his eyebrows before leaning down to kiss your lips again, the tangy flavor of your cunt spreading to each and every one of your taste buds as he brushes his tongue against yours. You savor your own personal zest until you feel him smile and pull away, looking down and spitting on his palm to stroke himself. He grins as you watch him work on himself, cupping his head a few times before noticing your jaw dropping on the floor. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it fit.”

You laugh in utter disbelief as he lines himself up with your opening, gliding the head of his cock over your clit a few more times just to watch you squirm as a deep, guttural moan brews in his chest. He finally decides to push himself in, that moan leaving his lips in little more than a whisper as he begins to fill you up, stretching your velvety walls to capacity. His breath hitches as he disappears between your folds, guiding himself in deeper with more ease than you thought was humanly possible before he eventually bottoms out.

You whine as he holds himself there for a minute, glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay before taking his time to pull out and thrust back into you, giving your muscles room to adjust before he starts chasing his own pleasure. He lets go of himself as he rocks into you, cradling the back of your head as the wooden table beneath you creaks louder with each consecutive movement of his hips. He keeps his other hand on your hip, holding you in place as he drills himself into you, breathing heavily into your kiss as trails of sweat drip down his chest, soaking little droplets onto the fabric of his shirt.

He growls against your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as possible as he feeds your body with a visceral pleasure you weren’t entirely sure existed until now. Keening against him as he continues to fill you up, your overstimulated flesh tightens around him in a rapturous wave that seems to flood your senses even more than it had before. You can feel it rush its way through you, seizing every muscle in your entire body as it squeezes the release right out of him, forcing him to twitch and spasm into your blissful heat. He grunts with his last push inside of you, grabbing onto your ass to get as deep as he can, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix as he coats your inner walls with his orgasm.

He kisses your lips and forehead as he sputters inside of you, keeping himself between your legs as he memorizes how good the sensation of your muscles feels around him before slowly pulling out. “Did I…,” he runs a hand through your hair as he catches his breath, all the blood rushing up to his lips and cheeks. “Did I change your mind?”

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper, continuing to hold him close. “Yeah, you did.”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Can't believe I gotta do this, but okay...strap on in guys because this isn't only a rant, but informational. Gonna show you how to clock AI writing, why it's bad, how to abuse AI for writing, and how to prove something was written using a chat bot.

Have you ever read a fic and had to pause for a moment? Contemplate a few things? You almost feel like a few times you just couldn't figure out. Or perhaps you saw something that just read super awkwardly.

If this describe you reading some fics, then you might've fallen victim to "AI Writers". Yes, that's correct! A writer who uses AI to help them write their fics. Mind you most people when using this method actually use chatbots! So it's not like they just run into ChatGPT, give it a prompt, and then post it. Oh no. They RP it, maybe clean it up a little so it reads more like a fic, and then they post it.

If any of you are use to RPing with Chatbots like Janitor.ai, or even C.ai, then you might occasionally read a fic and realize it's strikingly familiar to chat you read in your own chats. I, for one, dabble in RPing with bots when I get bored, which is how now and days I can read a fic, see certain lines, and just know.

Now I'm certain I don't need to sit here and explain why this is so bad. However, I'll explain anyways if you'd like to hear my opinion, as well as many other artists and writers:

AI is Plagiarism!

Ya, this is plagiarism. How do you think it's generating responses? Or for artwork, where do you think it's grabbing the images from. It doesn't do it itself. AI is basically giving a program information so it can generate things. A lot of programs that uses AI, as well as websites, uses that written information to generate your responses. You know Google Docs? Ya, it can take information from your writing there. Archive of Our Own? Bingo. Tumblr? Ya, it takes writing from here as well. That means the people who have spent a lot of time on their writing, spending years honing their craft, are having their writing styles and voices stolen from AI in order to make those generated responses. Now when it's just you RPing something, pop off. It's just you and your bot. Share it with a few friends, sure! If you post it online though, those words are a mashup of millions of stories written and posted online. So it's plagiarism. Plain and simple.

2. It sets you back as a writer

Ever wondered why some people can write the most amazing things ever? It's because they wrote. They learned. They practiced. It took time and effort in order to build up those skills. They got there by writing. So how is using AI affecting your writing? Easy, you're not writing. At least...not a lot. If you use a chatbot to write half the things in a fic, you're only doing half the work. You're also bouncing off the idea from your bot and going with it, instead of using your writer brain to figure out how this scene would best be executed. Imagine it like this. Someone uses AI to draw an image for themselves. Then they trace over it, add a few of their own touches, and color it the best they can. Did they suddenly learn how to draw? No. Because they didn't take the time to learn why something is placed like this, how the composition works, etc. Same thing with writing. If you're using AI to do all the work then you aren't learning, and you're not going to be getting better as a writer. If that's the case...why are you writing? It should be a fun experience to write, after all. It should be something you want to get better at. So why are you just having AI do it? Attention? You realize your fics need to be pretty well written to garner attention, right? That brings me to my third point.

3. We can tell...and it's not fun to read

Today a friend showed me an paragraph from a fic he found here on tumblr. I saw it. Without even having to ask I knew it was written by AI. Nobody talks like that except a robot. The wording? Repetitive for AI to use. "Their bond grew with every passing moment." | "Their shared connection." | "His voice was barely above a whisper." | "It was a testament to their relationship." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her, hand in hand, and to make the most out of the second chance he's been given." | "A renewed sense of purpose." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her" If I see these lines, I clock it as Janitor in a heartbeat. Sure, not every time it's used is AI, but those are the most common things I see in every RP with a bot, and I actively need to correct the bots or else they'll use it in every fucking reply. Another thing is...RPs read differently from a fic. They're not made to be read like a narrative story. It's a bot replying to someone, so when you do that things get weird. Not to mention sometimes clothes appear and disappear, a position is changed, etc. It's just not good writing...

4. It's lazy

Simple as that. It's fucking lazy to get AI to write a fic. Trust me, I am one lazy motherfucker. I hate doing things. I want to sleep for literally a solid week. However I made the decision to write things, so I write them. I put in the effort. Other writers who don't use AI? They put in the effort. I know at least 20 people who are depressed as all hell, can barely get out of bed unless it's to go to work, who decided to still write. Not everyone is going to be a fast writer. Not everyone is going to find writing easy. If you're going to commit, though, commit to it. Write it. Don't use AI.

With these points being made, I'm sure you can see why in the writer community, it's frowned upon to use AI as well as bots for your writing...especially when you don't disclose it. I could probably put everything aside if you just said it was written using AI. Honesty is the best policy.

People might not want to read it then, but at least they know that you used AI. At least you admitted to it. Using AI and then passing it off as completely original is disgusting.

So you clocked something as AI written. You’re pretty freaking sure this was written with a Chatbot. So you plug it into an AI checker and what? No AI detected? No fucking way.

Yes fucking way.

The detectors use a range of things like: Language Model Comparison, Repetitive phrases and structures, contextual awareness, among a few other things. Now look at the "Language Model" part. What if a Chatbot doesn't have the most common language models? It doesn't detect it as easily, that's what.

Where does that leave Chatbots? Well, it means it’s not really checking for things like Janitor or C.ai. A lot of times it flies under the radar because of this. I have found that there is at least one site that doesn’t do this. Instead of more or less checks the context of the text to see if it was written using AI, rather than relying on ai models.

Quillbot

This is what I use to check. I also did run it through some tests. Mind you, not every program is going to be completely accurate. This just happens to, after thorough testing, be the best at being able to tell if a chatbot was used.

As you can see here, the one on the far left is a fic that I ran through that was my own writing. In the middle I had copy/pasted my own responses, and my bot responses from Janitor. On the far right I pasted only Janitor responses. While it’s not accurate, it could still detect human written from a chat bot!

In comparison to me running it through other AI Detection softwares (one of them being Grammarly), where they detected nothing in the post that were written by both me, and the bot.

The entire reason I’m even making this post is because I happened to come across a fic that seemed like it was written using AI, so I was curious and ran it through. Mind you, the detection software only lets you paste 1,200 words of the writing, so this was just a snippet. The same size snippets that I had put for all of my own tests. This was the result:

So we can make a good guess that this was…probably written by AI. If you’re wondering, no. This isn’t a call out post. I won’t be stating the user who I did this. I ask you not to speculate in the notes of this post either. I don’t want to cause unnecessary drama, because honestly the writing community for this fandom already has that.

I will say, to the writers who are using AI, I’m not the only person who will probably get curious. If you’re going to use AI for your writing, at least state it in the description. It’s manipulative and wrong to not state it.

I know I said AI is bad, but it's also like Thanos. It's inevitable. I fully think we should abuse the hell out of it and make it our bitch. Now how to do that without using it to actually write? Easy.

Force it to give us ideas. Once upon a time I wanted to do some writing, but couldn't think of anything I wanted to write. Sure there's prompt lists out there, but a lot of them didn't fit what I needed. So I grabbed ChatGPT by it's lil grimy throat. I whispered in it's ears "Write me some prompts."

I then took said prompts to jog some ideas in my head, then wrote my own original content. I used AI to help give me a basic idea for my writing and then came up with my own stories. That's a simple way of doing it.

I know people who will RP with a janitor bot because they have a plot in mind for a story, but are uncertain with how they'd want to execute it. So they RP with a bot first, and then once they have an idea, they write a fic based off their RP. They don’t take what the bot said, copy/paste it, then say it’s their fic. They use it as a tool to help them with their ideas. Sometimes if the bot has a really good line, they might take that singular line from it as well. That’s not taking the entire story, it’s just a line that they knew would flow with the fic, and half the time they edit the line as well.

You can also use it for story titles. Can’t come up with a title? Tell ChatGPT the synopsis of your story and then ask it to generate 10 titles for it (actually I just tried to this see the results and am currently laughing my ass off, maybe don't do this).

Don’t forget things like Grammarly. That’s also AI! You can use it to check your grammar and fix awkward wording in your writing.

There’s ways a writer can use AI as a tool. In my opinion, it’s no different from an artist using the symmetry tool for their art. Or using a 3D model to help them make a pose for a drawing in their program. It’s a tool that should be used to help and improve your own content.

[eedenuwu]

oc-tober | my first few days

hello tumbo ler. i am kinda doing oc-tober this year, kinda not. i know my schedule (busy, hectic, hell) but i also know i like to procrastinate (these 3 pieces have consumed time that would've been better used for homework).

so, i'm gonna jump into it... the other 2 drawings and more info will be below the cut

day 1 | favorite oc

ok so i started off strong here... by that i mean i started with day 1!!! (on october 5). this is my favorite ever. i have never really info dumped about this one on the internet before... was gonna use this as a time to start but then deleted what i just wrote LOLL all u gotta know is that bro is stunning witterawy just look. also this oc is from the 1920s/30s/40s... most of the story i've got in my head takes place in the 30s tho 😻

day 5 | redesigned oc

see this is what i mean. i skipped from day 1 to day 5.. but this is an oc i made when i was like 12 (WAY TOO CLOSE TO 10 YEARS AGO) and he was an angsty little bugger... it used to be the case that he was a witch living on his own in a village that, like, hates him or whatever. (because he's a witch.) the townsfolk like rip his tongue out or whatever and then he couldn't speak anymore but still ran like some sort of fruit stand at some sort of market. then like the love of his life moved in and he lived happily ever after. (not true, the love of his life was a BOY so i think they both got killed.)

and wow!!! that's a lot for a 12/13 year old. i came across an OLDDD google doc that had a little bit about this guy in it. the story, as anything written by a 12/13yo, made like. extremely little sense.

so i redesigned bro in about 2022ish. gave him a name, and he's still a witch. he's still missing a tongue. the differences now include that he's AFAB, has a little friend in his head only (pictured. he is cursed) and has a twin brother now. his twin brother works as a knight and like... captured him for an insane bounty. i also gave him a little bit of plot armor... he's some sort of telepath now so he's able to get by without a tongue. instead of straight up fantasy ville, i've been doing a little research into the middle ages to figure out a more, like, realistic setting... as realistic as including supernatural things can be but believe me the story is making a lot more sense now than it did in 2015.

day 3 | old oc

so i drew this today. yes these are in order of when i drew them...

anyway in terms of when i made this one, he's not THAT old. he's a product of my highschool mind and appeared on MANY assignments as doodles.. so he was like, essentially, born in about 2016/17, but i consider him old because i haven't so much as thought about him since like 2020, MAYBEEE early 2021.

this is also making me realize i have a thing for FREAKS. every one of these ocs has something about them that makes them "less than human;" this guy's deal is that he's like.. half fish..

it sounded really cool in 2017 you have to understand this was the vibe of the time

anyway he essentially got scrapped for no better reason than i was just getting bored. like, the story i was developing for bro ALSO took place in the 1920s (dude let me tell u. prohibition era america is actually my roman empire. genuinely in every sense of the real meaning of that trend) but it was diverging too far from reality and sort of becoming an atla knockoff toward the end of my thoughts for it... so then bro at the top was born (girl on day 1) in august 2021 and the rest for this guy was history. such is the damning reality of the creative.

anyway, that's all. i have no idea if i'll keep this up, but some of the prompts have genuinely given me ideas to cure my art block (I HAVE NOT DRAWN SINCE JULYYYYY) so i'm hoping to have time for more 🥲

[astxrailzz]

BSD HIGHSCHOOL HEADCANONS

FEAT: osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, nikolai gogol, fyodor dostoevsky, sigma, atsushi nakajima, akutagawa ryunosuke

CONTENT: written from a british school pov!! mentions of vaping/dazai n nikolai selling overpriced vapes, atsushi n akutagawa scrapping, fake asthma attack (giggling writing these down)

AUTHORS NOTE: FIRST POST ON THISS ACCOUNT AND LOTS MORE TO COME!! will defo be doing another ones of these it was so fun to write (nikolai was my fav)

DAZAI YR11

dazai would defo be one of those popular boys who does absolutely NOTHING in class. all he does is piss around and fucks with chuuya

somehow he’d be in top set in a few classes and everyone else is like what???? HOW????

brings nothing to school and end up with a bunch of pens

i feel like in yr7-8 he was more introverted and quiet (like he was in the pm) but did a complete 180 change in yr9

LOVES the pepperoni pizza slices in the canteen, forces chuuya to buy a slice for him and throws a fit if they’re not being sold that day

”Chuuyaaaaaa! D’ya have any money- please please pleaseeeeee- they’re not even that expensive! You’re just broke, you seriously gonna let a poor guy like me starve?“

if chuuya doesn’t buy him it he gets atsushi to buy it instead

blows up everyone’s phone. please you’d think he lived in his phone if you texted him he’d respond in less than 15 seconds

had braces in yr7-8

started a business with nikolai scamming the younger years bc he was bored. they planned it out n everything in a maths class and not even a day later had set it up in the toilets. once people acc started falling for it and they were getting money he locked tf in

"It’s 15 quid for a vape.. hey bruv I don't make the rules! (he does) If you're gonna complain and not buy owt' you can piss off."

HAD RUMOURS GOING ABT HIM AND CHUUYA IN YR10. THEY WERE IN THE SAM CUBICAL PUFFING ON A VAPE AND SOMEONE WALKED IN ON THEMMMM, LITCH EVERYONE WAS SAYING THEY WERE GAY N HAD SEX. people still bring it up sometimes and dazai doesn't deny it

lowkey wishes it was true

ALL THE YR8-10 GIRLS THINK HE'S FIT

always has dts so he walks home with chuuya

CHUUYA YR11

does gcse pe bc he's super athletic

once again the yr8-10 girls think he's fit (he is)

got called a leprechaun and he started FUMING, same with being called scottish

got so pissed off at dazai once that he lobbed a pen into his eye which prompted dazai to dramatically fall off his chair and hit his head againnst the floor (chuuya didn't gaf)

every time he sees a yellow car he immedietly thinks abt dazai and starts looking around for him

"why's that car so fuckin' yellow- where's dazai."

50/50 chance that people know he is gonna punch the shit outa him or js think he's into him

stuck up for akutagawa once bc the poor boy was being dragged and now aku follows him around though he’d never admit it

EVERY TIME SOMEONE MENTIONS THAT RUMOUR HE GOES BRIGHT RED AND STARTS YAPPING AND SHOUTING

he denies it like his life depends on it

kouyou even teases him abt it please everyone hangs up on him

NIKOLAI YR11

Nikolai is 100% the class clown you cannot change my mind

owns all the school beef accounts and has videos of all the scraps (makes people pay to see them)

gets fyodor to help him with his homework

He’s the one who stuffs toilet roll down the sinks and blocks the toilets. He drags sigma along with him and sigma js attempts to get him to stop (it never works)

IF HE GETS CAUGHT DOING ANYTHING REMOTELY WRONG HE PINS THE BLAME ON SIGMA AND BEGS FYODOR TO BACK HIM UP LMAOAOAIAO

“WHAT?? no miss I would never- wha- why would I do that?? it was litch sigma miss please you gotta believe me, fedya was watching- weren’t you? WEREN'T YOU??”

(fyodor rats him out 9 times out of 10)

In class if he has a sub and gets told off he whines about it saying ‘oh it’s because I’m russian innit’

draws when he’s bored. doesn’t matter what on, he just vandalises everything

DRAMA/THEATRE KID FRFR (me), DRAMA IS ONE OF HIS FAV SUBJECTS ALONG WITH ART (HE TAKES THEM FOR GCSE)

drama teachers are the only ones that like him

sits with sigma and fyodor at lunch, some year sevens sit behind them so he spins around and taps them then spins back and acts like nothing happened (they think he’s weird and moves)

tried selling a yr7 a empty vape once and a teacher caught him, also hides behind toilet doors so when you open them he jumps out and puts you into cardiac arrest

for the business with dazai, he js pissed around the whole time. their business only lasted a week then they got found out bc some kid was pissy abt how it was extremely overpriced, they ended up getting suspended over it but pleaseeeee they went after that kid HELP

he sometimes put random stuff in the vapes like soap AHAHAHSHSHAH

FYODOR YR11

gets out of pe bc he's anemic. had to fight a war with the pe teachers to get out of it bc they claimed it wasn't a valid excuse, only let him out of it when he passed out playing badminton (nikolai took a video of it and constantly uses it as blackmail)

reads at lunch

got reported once bc somebody bumped into him and he threatened them saying smth corny like 'you better watch your back buddy' or ‘I will stab you at lunch’ and they got scared (tbh i would as well man is intimidating)

slt was called and a bag check had to be done, all they found were books (nerd 🤓)

sometimes quotes authors of the books he reads and completely denies everything if you mention it or question it

"hm? what? why would i quote that- i didnt even say that, what're you on about?" (starts sweating)

i think this is ooc buttt its funny so idgaf, watched deathnote in yr7 or 8 and acted like light as well as bought his own rip off book on temu, he'd wip it out if anyone got on his nerves and everybody took the piss out of him

THIS MADE ME GIGGLE SM I CAN IMAGINE TTHIS IS HOW NIKOLAI MEETS HIM AND HE JS BULLIES HIM

SIGMA YR10

so so soooo awkward

doesn't have ANY friends in his year, lingers around older years so his classmates stay AWAY.

only friends r nikolai and fyodor (nikolai dragged him to his table after seeing him being emo and fyodor tolerates him)

i think he'd be in middle set for most things, the exception being top in english.

common sigma phrase when anyone talks to him

"uh.. well- I uh- I mean-.. yes..?"

was walking behind atsushi one day and a pin off his backpack fell off (read atsushi's section for context). he picked it up for him and gave it back to him leading to atsushi buying him a radnor fizz as a thanks

lowkey wants to be friends with atsushi bc of how nice he was but IS TOO PUSSY TO TALK TO HIMMM

ATSUSHI YR9

has a bunch of cute keychains on his bag and people RIP THEM OFF ALL THE TIME he gen gets so upset over it

gets all his teachers small gifts like chocolates for holidays

most people in the school like him and the yr11s stick up for him bc he's mates with dazai

SCRAPPED AKUTAGAWA IN YR8 BC HE TOOK THE PISS OUT OF HIS HAIRCUT- DAZAI HAD TO DRAG THEM APART BC ALL THEY WERE DOING WAS WACKING EACHOTHER HELPPPP

waves and smiles at sigma every time he sees him

him and akutagawa eventually made up and they're semi friends purely bc aku doesn't want people to start saying shit like 'ooo the emo can make friends'

AKUTAGAWA YR9

he is so judgy he will fucking side eye you in the hallways and shit

EVERYTIME HE GOES TO THE TOILETS DAZAI IS THERE VAPING AND HE SWEARS HE GETS A ASTHMA ATTACK WITH THE AMOUNT OF SMOKE OR EHATEVA

follows gin and Chuuya around and gets them to batter people if they say anything to him

CONSTANTLY picked on for being edgy

"OI EMO! WRIST CHECK?????" or "barcode"

heard abt how fyodor got out of pe and faked having a asthma attack whilst running track, ATSUSHI THOUGHT HE WAS BEING FR AND STARTED SOBBING AHAHAHAHAH

watches horror movies with gin and buys her stuff occasionally (HEADCANNON THAT THEY SHOW THEIR LOVE THROUGH ACTS OF SERVICE)

semi friends with kaiji and higuchi (by this i mean he lets him yap and doesn't complain)

shaves his eyebrows off to seem edgy

[wawrthur]

billy/stu, first time one of them accidentally let slip "i love you" or something similar? :3 angst is a mega bonus!

Oh hell yeah!! Thank you for the prompt!

Same universe but they are in college <3

__

It was not a dark and stormy night, not at all, actually.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, and Billy has had it with the professor droning on and on and fucking on about their fucking upcoming exams. What exams? Billy would just get someone to do them for him. He knows a guy.

He gets up and walks down the isle, mouthing bathroom to the professor just in case. Stupid high school habits die hard. Billy smirks. If only he could kill those habits like he killed everyone else who has annoyed him long enough.

Going to the auditorium he knew he’d find Stu in, he opens the door and says with his utmost ‘i-do-not-give-a-single-fuck’ confidence, “Apologies, professor – Stu Macher to the principal's – I mean to the dean’s office.”

Everyone turns to where Stu is and stares while he fumbles with his things, lanky limbs getting in the way of his graceful exit out of the row of identical seats.

“Sorry, gotta go!” Stu flashes a wide grin to the lecturer and Billy rolls his eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he comments while Stu is shoving his notebooks into his bag.

“Well, Billy, had you told me beforehand –“

“And where would the fun be in that,” Billy coos, pressing Stu against a door in a dark alcove just a couple steps away from the well-lit hall.

“B-billy, I don’t know if this is a good idea—“

“Are you scared, Stuey? Scared someone might see?” Billy’s breath ghosts Stu’s lips and Stu gulps. So fucking easy already.

“N-n-no,” Stu stutters.

“Come on, Stu, gotta be more convincing than that,” Billy grins and he wonders if Stu anticipates just how cruel Billy’s about to be.

“I’m not scared,” Stu exhales but it’s shaky and Billy resists the temptation to roll his eyes again.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Stu,” Billy starts kissing Stu’s cheek, dragging his lips, really, down Stu’s jaw and then his neck, biting a kiss right into the spot that’s hidden beneath the collar of Stu’s shirt.

“Fuck, Billy,” he is panting immediately, aww, and Billy hasn’t even begun playing yet.

“Tell me a secret, Stu,” Billy slides his hand under Stu’s shirt, roaming his flushed skin, and then down to the hem of his jeans.

“I – uh – I – “

“Come on, baby, you can form words, can’t you?” Billy’s grin turns wicked as he sneaks his hand into Stu’s jeans, palming him over his boxers.

“Yeah, I – fuck, Billy, f-f – I – “

“What’s your deepest, darkest secret, baby? Come on, tell me,” Billy is back on Stu’s mouth, catching Stu’s lower lip with his teeth, pulling then licking it better. Stu’s mouth is shiny with Billy’s saliva and his eyes are glazed over.

Brain mode off, Billy thinks to himself with satisfaction.

“Don’t you trust me?” he mock-pouts. “Here, let me help you.” Billy increases the pressure of his palm and Stu’s eyes fall shut.

“Please, Billy,” he whispers.

“Just say it, baby, and you’ll get anything you want,” Billy murmurs against Stu’s neck. He bites hard to enunciate his point.

“Fuck, Billy, I –“ Stu takes a big gulp of breath, “I –“

“Tell me, baby,” Billy urges, moving his palm a little.

“Fuck, I love you, fuck!” Stu’s hips stutter on Billy’s palm for a few sweet moment until Billy draws back, taking his hand back.

“You what?” he raises his eyebrow with an incredulous laugh.

“I’m, uh,” Stu looks like someone’s just knocked the wind out of his lungs. His expression turns hurt, then hopeful, then hurt again. “I love you?”

“Is that a question?” Billy mocks, leaning back in his relaxed stance.

“It’s the secret. My deepest darkest one,” Stu starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt, watching Billy through his eyelashes.

“Please,” Billy waves a hand dismissively, “Everyone and their uncle know that. You are kinda obvious, Stu. It’s a little pathetic, really.”

“Um,” Stu says.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Billy winks.

Stu’s face turns red.

“You’ve got nothing?” Billy sighs. “Well, that’s boring. Gotta go back to class, five minutes till break and all my shit is still in there. Later!” he says, turns around and starts walking away.

“Billy!” Stu’s voice is full of barely hidden desperation and Billy can’t help but roll his eyes this time. “You said you’d –“

“Come up with a better secret, Stu!” Billy calls, not turning his head. “Something that’s actually worth something to me!”

The sun shines brightly through the large windows in the hall. Billy yawns. He should probably get some coffee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(I strongly advise you to check out my screaming at the top of my lungs series on ao3 because the car fic is just IT for you I think hehe)

[house-afire]

Knives in His Feet (Ed/Frenchie)

Prompt: 100 words of cats

“You’re the one who made the cat flag, aren’t you?”

Frenchie did his best not to jump out of his skin. It was sort of Blackbeard’s deal, especially these days, to suddenly be right behind you, so the startle reaction was just something you had to train out of yourself, wasn’t it, like needing sleep or flinching at the sight of blood. He always had blood on him now, drying around his fingernails and in the weave of his clothes.

“Thought it’d be fierce,” Frenchie said. He hastily added, “Skeleton with the heart, though, that’s better. Some of my best work, really.”

Blackbeard leaned close to him, his voice a hot whisper in Frenchie’s ear. “Want to see something weird?”

No, he actually didn’t. A guy asked you that kind of question, it wasn’t ever the good kind of weird, like a funny-colored parrot or a biscuit that sort of looked like you.

But he liked all his fingers and toes right where they were, thanks, so he wasn’t going to make trouble.

“’Course,” he said, following Blackbeard to the captain’s cabin.

It’d been a pretty place, in Stede’s day. Bit of a pit now, if Frenchie were honest. Very obviously the home of a man going through a real shitstorm of a break-up: damp hankies everywhere, slashed-up paintings, ashes from the ritual burning of the ex’s possessions, all that jazz. Sort of smelled funny.

“You hate cats,” Blackbeard told him.

“Hate’s a bit strong. Healthy terror of them, I’d say.”

Blackbeard’s kohl was streaked with tear-tracks, but picking up on that didn’t really make his bared-teeth smile any better. “Would you kill one?”

Frenchie had heard about Fang’s dog by now. Did Blackbeard have a cat in here, waiting for an appointment with Frenchie-the-executioner?

“D’you want me to get Iz?” Frenchie offered. “Think the whole, ah, death thing is more his speed.” Not that Izzy didn’t look as ashen and out-to-lunch as the rest of them, lately.

“Oh, Izzy won’t kill this kitty,” Blackbeard said, with something dark curling in his voice: satisfaction and anguish and bitterness all mixed together. “One of the few things he won’t do, even when he’s ordered, the little fucker.”

“Guess we all draw the line somewhere,” Frenchie said.

“But you’re smarter. You wouldn’t stick your head in the lion’s mouth, would you? Fucking terrible idea, right? Something shows you it’s a monster, and you know it’s a monster, you’ve got to put it down, not trust it, not let it go on gnawing at you.”

Did lions gnaw? He’d have thought they could just bite straight through. But then, he’d lost the plot here, he was pretty sure.

“Yeah,” Blackbeard breathed. “Yeah, you’re a smart man. ‘Healthy terror,’ love that. Gotta be healthy.”

He started peeling off his leathers.

So they were doing that, then? Frenchie could work with that. He couldn’t say he was much in the mood, what with the exhaustion and the mind-numbing fear and all, but he also couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. Never imagined there’d be this much preamble about cats, though. Well, nobody could accuse Blackbeard of being predictable.

“Right,” Frenchie said, undoing the clasps on his jacket. “Bit of fun’s healthy too, yeah? Good thinking.”

He was a touch behind on the undressing, so he hadn’t gotten more than his jacket off before Blackbeard went and turned into a cat.

Frenchie decided to fit in that jumping-out-of-the-skin bit after all, and he recoiled to the point where he banged his back against the door. It wasn’t every day that you saw a man you were ready to bed turn into a … small-ish panther? Crazily enormous house cat? There were silver strands of fur mixed in with all the black.

Blackwhiskers, Frenchie decided, and then he had to bite down on his lip until it bled, because there were certain laughs that could come out of you that you could never get back in. He didn’t want to find out how far gone he was just from that.

Blackwhiskers was even more terrifying than most cats. Wicked sharp claws, and a hiss that made every hair on Frenchie’s body stand on end. But, well—its tail wasn’t all bushy, was it? And cats did that, when they were pissed off at you: made themselves into bottle-brushes to scrub the soul clean out of your body. It wasn’t slinking into a hunting pose either.

Frenchie wanted to jump ship to get away from it, but that wasn’t the same as wanting it dead, least of all dead by his own hand. He was more of a lover than a fighter, really.

And Blackbeard had it all wrong if he’d thought Frenchie would kill him while he was like this. Cats were a holy terror, but Frenchie had never gone around picking them off one by one. He’d armored himself in them, flown them on his flag, tucked their claws between his fingers. There was no point in wasting what scared you. Blackbeard was fucking terrifying, too, but sometimes that had kept them safe.

Mostly kept them safe from dangers Blackbeard himself had led them to, true, but safe all the same.

He knew his fear wasn’t all Blackbeard had counted on for this, though. He never looked at a thing from just one angle: it was like he had eyes like a fly’s, everything broken up into all these shards of possibilities. He’d known that Frenchie would have to think about the others, too.

It was hard to imagine any of them would ever get close enough to Blackbeard to do a proper mutiny, with a quick in-and-out, sorry-about-that knife plunge or a proper heave-ho with an anchor. Blackbeard had them all outclassed, even Jim. Izzy … there was a chance Izzy could do it, skills-wise, but he was three toes down and still loyal, so there wasn’t much hope there.

Cat was … manageable, maybe. And Wee John and Roach and Olu and the rest had all died parched and starved somewhere, and the rest of the crew was coming apart at the seams, and the box in Frenchie’s head was beginning to look a bit battered. And if Blackbeard died, they could all breathe for a change. Sail to Nassau, maybe. Regroup.

And if Blackbeard died, Blackbeard would be dead. And he hadn’t always been … this. It wasn’t so long ago that he would’ve been the cat on the flag, not the cat on your chest in the middle of the night.

And it was awful, wasn’t it, that Blackbeard had called him in here for this? It was so sad it made something twist around inside Frenchie’s chest.

“Can you still understand me?” Frenchie said softly.

Blackwhiskers gave him another hiss. Bit hard to translate.

“I know it might backfire on me and all,” Frenchie said, sliding down the door to sit on the floor, “or on the rest of us, but I don’t particularly want to kill you, if that’s all right.”

The cat’s ears flattened against its head. Very cursed skull shape, that. He ought to keep it in mind for their next flag, if he lived long enough to stitch one.

“But,” Frenchie continued, “I’m still not clear on whether you’ve got, like, a human brain in there or not. Far as I know, you’re just working with cat instincts. So if you wanted petting, or anything like that … I mean, I’d think it was just the cat asking for it.”

The cat’s eyes were luminous, like those eerie bits of the sea. It stalked towards him, and Frenchie held his breath, waiting to see if it would claw his face off or sink its teeth into his throat and toss him side-to-side.

It dug its claws deep into Frenchie’s legs, instead. It felt like being sliced open by a bunch of white-hot razors. Having his clothes bloodied from the inside-out made for a bit of a change, at least. If he didn't die in here, he'd need to dump some rum over the scratches so they wouldn’t infect. (To be fair, if he did die here, infection would be the least of his worries, wouldn’t it?)

Blackwhiskers settled down on Frenchie’s lap, its claws still rhythmically flexing in and out of his thighs. It glared up at him.

“On it,” Frenchie said. He stroked a hand down the cat’s back: once, twice, three times.

Blackwhiskers didn’t purr for it, but it put its knives away, and Frenchie was of a mind to count that as a win. He might have to grab that bottle of surgical spirits after all.

The cat’s fur was soft and fine as silk, the way he used to imagine Edward Teach’s hair would be. He had always marked those fantasies down as pleasant but unlikely, since Ed had only had eyes for Stede, but here he was, living proof that dreams did come true, in a fashion. Granted, he wasn’t having a nice nooner with his boss’s boyfriend so much as he was petting a suicidal cat-man who’d ordered most of his friends marooned, but if you looked at it a certain way, those were just details. Life never worked out how you thought it would.

“I’d like to hold on to what I’ve still got, you know?” Frenchie said, tentatively scratching the cat’s ears. “You included, I think? So, just one man’s recommendation and all, but you could stop trying to get people to kill you.”

Blackwhiskers let out a noise that was like a strangled creak, still less like a purr than the opening a door maybe better left closed. Kindness was always chancy that way.

Frenchie decided to be hopeful about it. It was nice, being hopeful. Nice and dangerous, like an enormous warm cat napping on some of your blood, but still the best he’d felt in weeks. No sense in ignoring a silver lining.

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts #320

ʙʙꜱ ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ & ꜱᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ: [ 10 ]

VANOSSGAMING

Oh my God, I almost died, you fuck.

Please don’t die.

No, don’t die, don’t die!

Is he dead, did he die?

He died!

Alright, off to a terrible start.

Looking for a shipwreck, looking for a shipwreck~

Okay, we found it, now what?

We gotta kill this fucking guy.

I just teleported.

We gotta find the dungeon, right?

He’s almost dead, he’s almost dead!

I don’t fucking know, just run!

Do we have to kill more?

Hold on, I’m in a tornado.

Close the door!

We’re fine, right?

Am I dead now?

Yeah, it was pretty cool, it was pretty cool, it was like an action movie.

We were winning!

WILDCAT

We should not be allowed to cheat.

Bitch, I got him, I knew it was you.

I'm done with it, I'm just shooting anyone.

I was watching you study that guy.

Don't worry, I insta-avenged you.

I don't know what he is anymore.

That's how my garage is going to look like in a few days.

Oh my gosh, he's so fast.

That looks fun as fuck.

That scared the shit out of me for a second, I thought for sure I was dead.

BASICALLYIDOWRK

Cautiously, let's find our stuff.

This was a fucking mistake.

I mean, I think we need a better strategy.

This one's pretty standard.

Do we need to start drinking?

I got the gold!

Look at our fucking score!

I don't like the way you said that.

Well, I fucking did!

What is knocking me over?

NOGLA

I could’ve actually, if I was funny.

I’m so proud of you!

You stupid fuck!

I didn’t gargle nothing.

Are you going to get me back?

Use the other one now.

It was just really delayed.

You’re never wrong.

Someone could have jumped in and I'm gonna note that down…

Good communication, guys.

H2ODELIRIOUS

What do you mean he flew?

I want to show you what I am.

He’s flying in the sky, how are you flying in the sky?

I was running from nothing, shit.

I still got a chance.

I thought I could jump through that window, that’s what I was trying to do at first.

Get the heck off me.

I’m right above you.

Let’s both get on this.

That’s right, I’m all powerful.

TERRORISER

Somebody take a crucifix and drop it on the floor.

We're gonna die.

Do you hear that noise?

Where the fuck was he?

Was that Slenderman?

Is he using it?

There he is.

Yes, Jesus Christ, do you need someone to hold your dick when you piss?

No, he ran through the salt, I'm gonna die!

Oh, wait, that's you…is that you in the picture?

SMII7Y

What are you getting me to draw right now?

It looks like one of your art pieces.

I haven't paid you a single cent.

Wait, you're on my team?

I can't move cause you're on my goddamn wing!

Oh my God, you hit him so hard!

I didn't throw anything, I just shot you in the head.

I’m looking away.

Alright, nah, you can die.

We just spoke it into existence, didn't we.

BIGPUFFER

Oh no, he's on fire!

I'm going to the boat, bye.

Is this how sailboats work, what is happening?

You spawned right in front of me.

What the fuck, you look dead, that doesn't look comfy.

Why is the couch like this?

I knew it, I fucking knew it, I knew your ass was gonna back out!

This is actually a cry for help.

Come here, let me kiss you.

What the hell am I doing here?

GRIZZY

I got carried away.

That was such a hard brake.

Thank God, it saved me.

I need motherfucking help.

I think our car is almost broken.

I'm gonna break the rock, ready?

Is it just us vs them?

I'm so gonna die.

Yeah, that's crazy.

Do not leave your car.

BLARG

Oh, I'm on fire, look at that.

I tried to shoot you in the face, I hope you understand that.

There looks like there has been a murder, I'm here to investigate.

It'll be fine, just drive, we'll be good.

Trust me.

Don't do that.

Where are we sailing to?

To be honest, I would rather have flew into a tree and died than made it.

What are you doing with a gun?

See you later, boys, I'm going to the ocean.

[veradragonjedi]

ok since i know you as the excellent writer mutual, i wondered if you had any advice for creating ocs? one of my other moots asked if i had any ocs and now i REALLY want to create one. but it looks hard af. so turning to a venerable author for guidance

OHHHHH GOD. First of all, I gotta thank you for the description (😭 seriously), I'm trying my best out here.

SECOND. I think I might be able to help, depending on what sort of OC you're trying to make, whether they're real world, fandom related, alien, D&D/Medieval Fantasy etc. Like. WOAH. There's a lot of freedom in making OCs!!!

Long-ish post below the cut!

Instead of actually wracking my brains rn, because evening is drawing in and I'm tired, I am gonna tell you a few things that no one told me! Plus some extra fun knowledge (and maybe tag you in OC dialogue prompts/creation advice in future if you want some help!!)

SO. 1. You can start whenever, wherever, and no one is allowed to tell you otherwise. I'm not sure how else to say this, but it's a game of creativity and a bit of love. To tell someone else what they're allowed and what they aren't allowed to put in their OCs is WRONG. Give them magic powers if that's the only thing you can think of at first, because it's a start and a start is always beautiful.

2. Art is art!! Even if it stays in your brain and never comes out. By this I mean, appearances: what do they look like? Is it what You want to look like? Is it nonhuman? Experiment with races, hairstyles, eyeshapes etc, especially if you're gonna end up drawing them!! More practise, and it's fun, because it's something/someone that You are Interested in. Hopefully I'm making sense here!

3. Names. Oh god, baby name websites won't help you. But fantasy generator names can! They are often much better and more exciting. Back to separate cultures ^ — looking for famous people of the culture/race of your OC can sometimes be of assistance, or sometimes unofficial Census sites. Names can also be objects, plants, celestial bodies, Gods, colours, metals/elements, etc. Maybe, with a few letters missing. Chair -> Chaise, Tablet -> Tebley (two I came up with a while ago and didn't really go into)

4. Clothes! I love researching clothes because they're always interesting to analyse, especially if they come from somewhere else around the world. Experiment with colours, what works/doesn't work with your character? Is your character neat, tidy? Show that through their clothes! Primmed and pressed suits and whatnot. Same goes for the opposite. If your character's main trait is that they're agreeable and friendly, show that through their clothes even slightly by making the colours blend, maybe make their favourite colour limited on the outfit as if they're moving it to make way for others. Think about shape, silhouette, etc. Do the clothes fit your character's particular body type? Their habitat? Their scene/time? :)

5. Personality!! This is always great. For a few of my OCs, I rolled them D&D stats with a twenty-sided dice. The five I ALWAYS take into account are: joy — what brings them it, romantic interest — or sometimes lack thereof, sadness — do they often fall into it? Are they easily emotional? Etc, fear — what are they afraid of and why? Etc, and lastly, charisma/charm — how easily are people to follow them, want to be friends with them, fall in love with them, want to listen to them speak?

(5.5) Flaws! Everyone's got em, aside from Mary Sue (who could be Your character. I'm not judging.) There are plenty of posts talking about character flaws. Here's one I saw earlier. It explains it better than I could, and OP leaves another link! Think about how much it grates against their defining 'Good' quality, think about whether you would see them as a good or bad person, and whether their flaws change how other people perceive them.

6. Hobbies aren't an important factor exactly, but it's always nice to plan your Little Guy some downtime. What do they do when it's quiet or when they're lonely? Do they have many friends, or do they keep to themselves? What's their favourite book? Their favourite video game? Their favourite film? And how is that shown through their appearance too? (Such as merchandise, tattoos, piercings.)

7. Things I didn't mention consist of:

— do they have any disabilities (mental or physical)? Were they caused by something (accident to be mysterious about)? Or were they born with them?

— do you expect people to relate to them, like them, hate them, fall in love with them, etc? Both real people who may come across your character, and other people in this characters setting?

— hero or villain material? This isn't a fine line, but it doesn't have to be a blurred line. Redemption arc/story? Tragic hero falling to..? Revenge? Lust? Hunger for power?

— how they fit into the scenery or area around them, where they live and how they interact with people who surround them.

But, finally, do what you want. OCs can be tricky, but as soon as you learn that it is — in the end — You who control both them and You, it becomes a whole lot easier.

Blogs I recommend are @develop-your-oc and @creativepromptsforwriting — they both help a lot. <33

My final tip? Enjoy. And, if you don't, stop! Do what you want, forever. :)

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK! There is a madness deep in the dark catacombs of Castle Clarkenstein. For years these claustrophobic corridors have been the home of the ghoulish giraffe himself, watching as the world passes by. He prefers it this way. It gives him more time alone with the voices. The voices tell him many strange things. Yet they always come back to one: make more monsters! Everyday they tell him this. Everyday he is unable to comply. Hey, being a mad scientist on a budget means he can’t afford the fancy scientific equipment needed to breathe life into newborn abominations. Guy’s gotta afford pizza somehow. Luckily, he has discovered a way of sorts to please the voices. During all those years of watching, Dr. Clarkenstein noticed a particular pattern. Every night during October saw artists posting new pictures based on peculiar prompts. Many of them based on children of the night. While the spotted specter might not be able to craft new zombies, he can sure as heck sketch’m! As such, I provide this friendly warning to you all now: Be afraid. Few people can survive the horrors that are DUDELZ of the Damned!

By that I mean I decided to do my own take on Sketchtober this year just minus the prompts. Anybody gotta problem with that? Tough, cuz I already drew this crap so you might as well check it out.

Octoberfair has returned to Clarksburg! Based on the German festival of a similar name, adults are invited to partake in food and beer sampling while the kids run around and play. Since this is an Americanized version of the event, naturally the events lean heavily on Halloween theming more than fall itself. Hence carnival attractions like The Haunted House, Down the Zombie, a FEARis Wheel, and of course the Creepy Corn Maze! It’s here we find Bumper and Xena, the two out to have fun as Crocie feeds on pumpkin-spiced funnel cake in the main tent. Bumper would’ve stayed with his fat friend for it not for Xena presenting her pal with a wager. Should he escape the corn maze before her, without the aid of any of his phantom powers, he may pick their Halloween costumes for this year. Having the perfect costumes in mind, Bumper accepted his alien friend’s terms, thinking this would be a piece of pumpkin pie. About a minute in was enough to prove the little ghoul wrong. He was constantly set upon by scare actors whenever he wasn’t lost in the paths of corn. Just as the floating marshmallow was about to throw in the towel, a rustling noise made its way through the stalks. His fear was immediately replaced by interest when the source of the noise turned out to be a black cat named Kiki. Like always, it didn’t take long for Bumper to befriend the feline, who led Bumper out of the maze. Xena followed close behind, congratulating her best buddy on a job well done. When asked how he did it, the ghost revealed he had some help. Yet when he turned to introduce Xena to Kiki, the cat was gone. What happened to her?

Who knows, cuz she’s not gonna be a recurring character. Sorry folks, the Samp Gang doesn’t need a pet. Their quota of mostly silent, largely adorable companions has already been met by the giggling lil’ ghouly himself. Adding a cat to the mix would just complicate things and draw attention away from our main four heroes. If I’m feeling nice I’ll have Kiki pop up in future Halloween pictures, but for now I just wanted to draw Bumper being friendly to a black cat. Personally I’ve always thought it was weird how they were associated with bad luck when they’re such adorable fuzzballs. Considering Crocie’s stories are about finding kindred spirits in the most peculiar places, I figured a black cat would fit the bill nicely. Of course I had to name it after one of my favorite cartoon witches, but I had trouble deciding on either Luz or Kiki. Only after I ran the names and sketch by my friend @the-pale-servant did I settle for Kiki. I hope you all enjoy her and this DUDEL!

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[bifuriouswaterbender]

happy writing~ more chrissy woke up plssss

WIP Wednesday Rules || Send a Prompt

Craving Something Deeper Ch 1-3

They’d missed something, but Steve’s comment was easy enough to jump in on. “Can you blame him? Cheerleader, popular girl, literal sunshine… She’s gotta be everything a guy like him could never have.”

Next to her, Eddie stiffened, and Chrissy shoulder-bumped him as gently as she could to avoid drawing attention to them. This weird little non couple situation had decided they needed to be a couple. Given her own rollercoaster of wondering if she could like him and something like relief when she realized he didn’t like girls, Chrissy found it funny, if a little sad too. Apparently even a boy and a girl who were just friends couldn’t look at someone like Chrissy and think she coudl be just friends with a guy.

“Wow, you’re seriously jealous over there.”

Eddie covered his mouth to hide a snort. They needed to get it together or someone was going to realize they were eavesdropping.

Steve thankfully didn’t hear him. “Seriously? I don’t know if you know this, Rob, but I’ve done the whole cheerleader thing. Chrissy’s great and all, but why would I be jealous of Eddie over her?”

“I didn’t say you were jealous of Eddie.”

Chrissy’s eyes darted to Eddie to find him staring back. A few days ago, Chrissy wouldn’t have had any idea what Robin meant and would have pushed the words out of her mind instead of struggling to piece them together. After Eddie’s confession in the boat house, though, Chrissy had thought a lot about who people were allowed to like. Enough that she quickly put the pieces together on what Robin was insinuating.

Eddie made the leap as quick as she did, possibly quicker. He looked stunned by the very implication.

“Eddie’s allowed to have other friends. I don’t even know if we are friends, but I’m hoping so after all this.” Steve doesn’t sound the least bit defensive about it either.

Eddie and Chrissy caught Robin’s drift, but apparently Steve himself didn’t.

She sighed. “If you say so.”

The two went quiet, but Eddie and Chrissy kept their eyes locked as they tried to parse out what to do with that information. Personally Chrissy didn’t think Eddie was Steve’s type, not if she went by the girls he’d dated before. While she bristled under his earlier implication that all cheerleaders were the same, the kind of cheerleader Steve tended to date was. Plus the girls like Nancy who were so smart and seemed above it all. Chrissy supposed Eddie tried to be above it all but in a very different way.

She glanced at the girl in question, then back to Eddie. Actually… Maybe she could be of a similar type to Eddie in some ways. Something to file away for later.

[mieux-de-se-taire]

MCR Black Velvet Interview - Aug 2004

Paragraph 4

In fact, work on the album got so pressured that Gerard disappeared for a few days during the recording process, prompting a post on the band's official website declaring the front man 'Missing in Action', much to the concern of their loyal fan base. He explains, "It was more irresponsibility than MIA. I had forgotten my phone charger, I had a credit card on me, a notebook and some art supplies. I realised I had to finish two songs lyrically and do the artwork, so I found a hotel, charged a room and stayed there for a couple of days. But it got out of hand and it was really irresponsible of me. It was a little bit drink-fuelled, not majorly. It was more like I gotta get all this shit done and I'm gonna stay up constantly to do it and not use the phone or tell anybody where I was."

Gerard Way Big Cheese Interview - Summer 2004

Page 2, paragraph 7 to page 3, paragraph 1

However, the bleak outlook put forth on ‘I Brought You My Bullets...’ and the songs previewed on the internet from ‘Three Cheers...’ had a number of people worried about the intense frontman, a worry that was compounded when, in the middle of work on the album, the singer disappeared, leaving behind only an enigmatic note. Fans feared the worst as message boards lit up over the next few days with concerned postings, something that, today, Way is contrite about: “It made me feel really good and really loved, but it also made me feel really bummed on myself for being so irresponsible and not realizing that there’s people who give a shit about me and the fact that you can actually scare the shit out of people by doing something like that. The guys in the band weren’t as worried because they know me, and they obviously sense a bit of humor with the note and they knew I wasn’t going to go off and do anything stupid.

They also knew I had to finish two more songs and do the artwork for the record. I went for a walk. I was trying to find somewhere to draw and I had a notebook and a credit card so I thought I’d just charge a room and get some liquor and just finish that shit. It was really just a few people making it seem like it was a suicide attempt. All it takes is a couple of people to really blow something out of proportion.”

MCR XFM Interview - 9/15/04

5:52-7:03

Interviewer: And I have to ask, I'm sorry, but there's the well-reported story of the MIA. Gerard: (Frank laughs) Oh that thing Interviewer: (Overlapping) The MIA. So can you explain to us a little bit about what happened and what that is regarding? Gerard: (Overlapping) Sure. Well basically, I decided it was going to be an excellent idea to leave the guys a note saying I was wearing a shirt with a grizzly bear on it, and that I had decided to go off to find myself or something like that. (Sounding uncertain at end) Interviewer: (Laughing) Okay? Frank: Yeah, you were gonna go hiking in the woods. Gerard: Hiking in the woods. And, basically I just had to finish the artwork and lyrics for 2 more songs, and, you know, I was just kinda irresponsible about it. Interviewer: Right, but I heard that it kind of roused some fans up into an element of fear. Were you quite surprised by the response that you got from that? Gerard: Yeah, I was surprised, and I felt really bad too. Frank: I think it really just got blown out of proportion Gerard: It did though, you know. Interviewer: Really, did you feel a bit chuffed though, secretly, that so many people had been worried about you? In the back of your mind, were you like "Oh, that's nice"? Gerard: (Overlapping) No, I think I was more terrified than anything. Interviewer: (Laughing) Why? Gerard: I don't know, you know. There's kids driving around Hollywood looking for a dude in a grizzly bear shirt. (Interviewer laughs) That's terrifying. Interviewer: That is terrifying. Gerard: (Overlapping) No I thought it was really really sweet that they did that, and it made me feel really bad, that I had been irresponsible like that.

Do fandom babies know about Gerard going missing during the recording of revenge and Frank putting out a message on the radio asking if anyone knew where he was while being pretty audibly choked up

[marc-spectorr]

Fluff prompt #6 + Marc Spector please!

ˣ pairing: marc spector x reader

ˣ prompt: “i like it when you say my name.”

ˣ warnings: 1.3k wc. mentions of pregnancy. tons of fluff.

ˣ a/n: i swear the idea of this was made prior to all the baby talk these last few days okay. but hope you enjoy hehe xx

- ☾-

“Hmm… What about Oliver?”

Marc shakes his head, his dark, messy curls bouncing ever so slightly. The way he looks ethereal, bathed in a soft golden glow of the dipping sunlight, has your breath hitching and heart fluttering wildly.

Thankfully he’s used to this— you staring, regarding him as if he’s a glorious statue sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Gazes intertwining, his smile distracts you for a stolen moment. Not on purpose, but it’s almost always like that with Marc. You’d never seen a prettier smile than his, though he’d argue that yours is by far more beautiful. But there’s something about his smile that simply dazes you— makes you feel like you’re floating in an endless state of bliss.

It’s quite hard to believe at times that Marc is the one you call yours. Falling in love with him had come so unexpectedly, but very easily as if it were all meant to be. Five years and counting, with your first child on the way, you still find yourself falling deeper and deeper. You could only imagine the immense love your heart holds for him… and your little one.

Speaking of which, you cross off yet another name from the list visualized in your head.

“Okay… maybe we can call him Matthew?”

Your input is met with the briefest of silence, followed by a quiet, resounding no that leads you to let out an exhale.

“Huh, who knew naming a kid would be this difficult?” Marc chuckles, his chest reverberating under your ear as the arm around you tightens, pulling you impossibly closer. “We’ve gone through how many names now— 10? 20?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we already hit the 50 mark, to be honest,” you return, eyes flickering up to meet his warm, café gaze. “Plus, we still need to come up with a middle name. It would really help if you gave me three or four suggestions. Every name I’ve brought up, you didn’t like.”

“It’s not that I don’t like those other names. I just don’t think any of them suit our little guy— get what I’m saying?”

You hum softly in response, featherlight fingertips slowly drawing shapes into his tanned skin. “So, now what? Are we going to wait until he’s born to name him?”

“I guess so,” he answers with a shrug. “Naming a baby is a big responsibility, and our son will be stuck with whatever name we choose for the rest of his life. It has to be perfect.”

A gentle hand then comes to rest on your grown belly. With a tender smile, Marc soothes the pad of his thumb over the swell of your stomach.

It still leaves him awestruck, the fact that he’s going to be a father soon. He’d painted the nursery walls and assembled the crib and other furnishings nearly a month ago. Though it felt even more real after spending the entire morning of today helping you pack the hospital bag.

A few weeks more, you’d remind him earlier. Just a few weeks more, Marc would finally have the family he’d always wanted— the one he’d always dreamed of having with you.

“Come on, Marc, we gotta think of at least a few,” you urge him with a small laugh.

He gives you a look. A sweet one, at that. Earthy brown orbs gaze at you adoringly; they mesmerize you, seamlessly indulging in delight at the mere flawless sight of you cuddled at his side.

Only Marc could reduce you to a puddle with those sparkling eyes.

You sincerely hope that your son inherits them. Those eyes, those curls, the smile that you’d never tire of seeing. Perhaps even the sound of his laughter, if it were possible.

You wish that your son would grow up to become the good man Marc is. The world could truly use another Marc Spector to brighten up everyone’s lives, the same way your Marc has done to yours.

“What about Marc?” you blurt out in the open, smiling softly.

“Marc?” he repeats. His features are unreadable, but the furrowing brow at your idea gives his puzzlement away.

“Yeah,” you nod, fingers twirling at the stray strand of hair splayed on Marc’s forehead. “What if we name our baby Marc?”

“Why would you want that?”

“Because why not?” comes your counter as you prop yourself up on one elbow. “Be it his first or middle, I want to name our baby after his father, my wonderful husband. The man who would do anything and everything for the two of us and who would love and protect us fiercely no matter what.”

Marc pauses, his mind undoubtedly reeling this all in. There are instances when he’s unable to see himself the way you see him. He’d slip into these fleeting moments of self-doubt and self-deprecation from time to time, an unfortunate habit following his tragic past.

You’re certain that this is one of those moments.

So you do the only thing that gets Marc to stop.

You kiss him.

Softly and sweetly, you press your lips against Marc’s, sensing the tension in his body slowly easing away. He clings to you as if you’re his lifeline, and you draw him in as close as you can.

The kiss seems everlasting. You want it to last forever, or at least as long as Marc needs it to. You’d say you love him a million times, but a kiss— this kiss— seals the promise, declaring the truth that you’re more than glad to remind him of for the rest of his life.

When it’s time to part, you leave Marc breathless. Breathless and grounded. All worries now a minuscule thought in the back of his head. He allows himself to bask at this moment, in this reality.

In this slice of heaven that you and he have built together.

The silence breaks at the sound of his delicate voice. “A-Are you sure?”

“Only if you agree, but yeah, I’m sure. I want to name our son after you, Marc.”

Marc’s smile reappears, and it reaches his tear-stained eyes. The corner of his mouth curls with your words, his hand remaining on your bump, caressing it. “I like it when you say my name, you know? Can’t exactly explain how it feels, but hearing you say it makes me the happiest man in the universe.”

Your heart swells at the touch and his admission.

You make Marc happy, but he doesn’t realize how much he makes you happier.

“So… what do you think?”

He takes a second to form a response. And as if he needs more convincing, your son gives a slight kick from inside your womb that catches you both by surprise. “Marc Jr., huh? You like that, buddy?”

Another set of kicks and they cause you and Marc to break into a fit of giggles.

“Little Marc Jr.,” you whisper. “Of course, we can give him a nickname, so he doesn’t get confused when he’s older.”

“Well, what if we settle on Marc as the middle name to avoid it?”

You ponder for a bit, then release a chuckle. “I’m good with that. But you know what this means, right?”

Marc tilts his head, his gaze narrowing as he shifts in bed, turning to you. “What does it mean?”

“It means we’re back to square one on first names.”

A playful groan escapes Marc’s parted lips, and with a kiss dotted on your nose, he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Back to the drawing board, we go.”

- ☾-

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moon knight masterlist

[capturethechaos]

♡ Event Masterlist ♡

Prompts - fluff “Looks like you’ve had a few drinks!” - “You haven’t had enough if you’re noticing. Come on, bar’s over there.” “Hey, if we don’t find someone by midnight…you and me…maybe?” - “Ask me properly and I might consider it.”

Words - 1.5k

Warnings - Tooth-rotting fluff ♡

11:37 p.m.

You had pressed yourself against a wall twenty minutes ago, because well… there were a lot of people packed into this house, and oh… oh god he was across the room from you, and he was making his way over. 

It wasn’t that you were avoiding him necessarily. You were simply trying to avoid making a fool of yourself in a room full of people. You kicked off the wall, ducking below the arms of two guys having a very enthusiastic conversation, and making your way to the front door. 

In retrospect, it probably would have been helpful to yourself to actually pay attention to who you were walking past, because three steps from your sweet escape, a hand wrapped around your forearm, drawing your attention back into the room. Your eyes locked on Josh as he furrowed his brows at you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

You knew he wasn’t going to be pleased, no matter what your reply, because he saw how you were b-lining for the front door. Across the room, Sam and Danny watched in amusement as Jake wandered around the party looking for you. The two of them approached him as he sipped on whatever concoction was in his red cup, sliding in on either side of him. “You know, if not for Josh coaxing her back into the house, Y/n probably would have left by now, you really need to get a move on, Jacob.”

Jake turned to Sam with a sour look, earning a smug grin in return. Danny clapped his hand against Jake’s shoulder. “I hate to say it, but Sam is right, you have to make your move.”

They were right, Jake knew that. He didn’t want to go into the new year pining after you the way he had been for longer than he cared to admit. He straightened up, clearing his throat and nodding at Sam and Danny before stepping forward, locking his gaze on Josh as he led you further into the house. 

He was almost there, so close to being toe to toe with you, all he had to do was walk past one more group of people, but as he sped up to close the distance, someone within the group called his name, pulling him into their conversation. He pulled out his phone, checking the time as he muttered a response to something one of the people in the group had said.

11:49 p.m.

He glanced in the direction you and Josh had been walking, his eyes locking onto you as you once again leaned against a wall, staring at the floor as Josh animatedly told you a story. Jake excused himself from the group, locking eyes with Josh as he walked over. 

You looked up as Josh abruptly stopped talking, raising an eyebrow at him as he cleared his throat. “I uh- I’ve gotta pee.” He scurried into the crowd, leaving you leaning against the wall, incredibly confused. 

You heard a small grunt from behind you, and turned to see Jake readjusting himself against the wall. He wore a lopsided grin as he looked up from his feet, locking eyes with you and clearing his throat. “Funny seeing you here.”

You furrowed your brows at him, watching as he repeatedly readjusted his hand on the wall. “Looks like you’ve had a few drinks!”

He had, though he was sure the mannerisms you were noticing were caused more by the rapid beating of his heart, and the sweat building up on his palms because of what he was attempting to do. He straightened himself up, wiping his palms onto his pants and swallowing the lump in his throat. “You haven’t had enough if you’re noticing.” He hoped you wouldn’t feel how clammy he was as he reached for your hand. “Come on, bar’s over there.”

You took his hand, feeling a tingle shoot up your arm at the contact as he pulled you through the crowd towards the bar. You were stuck staring at the way his hand was wound so tightly with your own, so when he came to a sudden stop at the bar, you bumped into his side. He turned to you, letting his hand loosen around yours. “What do you want to drink?”

You blinked at him a few times before looking at the large selection of various alcohols and mixers. “Uh… surprise me.”

He grinned, turning and grabbing two cups, his hand hovering over a few bottles before landing on a bottle of rum. He poured a more than generous amount into both before closing the bottle of rum and reaching for the unopened bottle of coke. “So… hey, uh- if we don’t find someone by midnight… you and me… maybe?”

He was murmuring, clearly struggling to formulate the question as he turned to hand you the drink he had made you. You looked from the cup to him, a nervous smile growing on your lips as you lifted the cup to your mouth. “Ask me properly and I might consider it.”

The statement was more bold than you thought you were capable of, and clearly it took both of you by surprise, as Jake let out a nervous giggle. He turned to reach for his own drink, hoping that you wouldn’t notice the crimson blush that was spreading from his chest to his cheeks. He clearly wasn’t paying very much attention to his surroundings, as he elbowed someone trying to make a drink, dumping the contents of their cup all over them. 

Jake's attention turned to the person the second he heard them gasp, immediately muttering an apology and reaching for the napkins to help them clean themself. You were stuck mulling over the proposition he had made, and just the thought of kissing him at midnight had your heart racing. You panicked, turning and b-lining for the door to the backyard, stopping only when Sam stepped out in front of you. “You alright Y/n? You’re red as a tomato.”

You tried to give him your most convincing smile. “Yeah, I’m uh- I’m totally fine. It’s just a bit crowded in here, need some fresh air.”

Sam gave you a knowing smile, but nodded and shuffled out of the way, letting you walk past him and out onto the patio. 

When Jake turned back from helping the person he had dumped alcohol on, he was disappointed to find that you had once again disappeared. He immediately began to search for you, ignoring people as they called his name, and weaving through group upon group in an attempt to find you. 

A hand on his shoulder brought him to an unexpected stop, and he turned to see Josh eyeing him suspiciously. “Lose her again?”

Jake gestured to the lack of a person with him as he stared back at his twin. “Clearly.”

Josh chuckled at the lack of patience from his brother, and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time and turning the screen to show Jake. “Better get on with finding her, you’re running out of time.” Jake’s eyes locked onto the phone screen, and he immediately turned to walk away from his brother. 

11:58 p.m.

He found Sam near the back of the house, pulling him from the conversation he was in. “Have you seen Y/n?”

Sam smirked, nodding at him and pointing at the sliding glass doors that lead into the backyard. “She told me she needed some fresh air.”

Jake turned, hearing his little brother call after him as he walked away. “Be fast, brother, you’re running out of time!”

You were shivering, the late winter air seeping into your bones as you tried to compose yourself enough to go back inside. The party inside was somewhat muted by the closed sliding glass doors, but as they slid open, you could hear the crowd inside begin the countdown. You felt a soft tap on your shoulder, and turned to see Jake standing behind you, nervous as ever as he stared at you. 

He opened his mouth a couple times, clearly trying to formulate the right thing to say, and when he did his words came out barely above a whisper. “Can I be your kiss at midnight?”

You heard him, but some part of you couldn’t help but tease him, taking a step closer. “Sorry, what was that?”

His lips turned up into a smile as he shuffled closer to you, looking deeply into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

You tilted your head up, brushing your nose against his, realizing just how close his lips were to your own. “Of course you can, Jake.”

The two of you were so lost in your own little world that you hadn’t even realized that midnight had come and gone, the crowd inside turning their attention from the celebration of the new year, to what was going on just outside. Jake had left the back door open, and from against the frame of the door, Sam piped up. “Just kiss her already, you fool!”

Jake smiled, flipping off his little brother as he closed the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. Everyone erupted into cheers as the two of you melted into each other. You felt the hand that had been flipping off Sam brush along your jaw, pulling you in even closer.

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