#im not gonna write “steals”

[fluffthedragonpup]

Heh.. look at this thing 😈😈😈

[saintobio]

KNOW THY ENEMY.

dramatis personae; sylus, reader, xavier. heavy angst. period piece. medieval au.

— “in a realm where light and dark doth vie, ‘tis not thine eyes, but thy heart, that must discern who be the true enemy.”

♱ forbidden love

an illicit romance: crown prince xavier, your childhood friend and devoted lover, stands on the precipice of duty as the sole heir to philos. as he is bound by the chains of his obligation to the throne, his heart aches for the one lady he cannot claim.

♱ marriage of convenience

wed to a tyrant: emperor sylus, an oppressive ruler from a neighboring empire, secured your hand through a ruthless bargain he struck to claim you as his wife. your marriage is not one of love, but a cold transaction sealed by power and ambition, leaving your heart trapped in a gilded cage.

♱ the damsel in distress

the bastard daughter of a grand duke: born of noble blood but marred by your mother’s lowly station, you walk a fine line between privilege and disgrace, ultimately forced to marry a man for your own survival. yet, your fate was sealed by a vow to xavier—a promise to break free from sylus’s grasp when the crown of philos finally rests upon your lover’s head.

COMING SOON !

[blkkizzat]

how to successfully report and remove your stolen fic on c.ai:

aka don't use fics for c.ai bots... a story of a c.ai creator who fucked around & found out:

for any other author who gets their shit stolen by ai bots on c.ai this is what you need to do:

create an c.ai account

submit a support ticket

choose DMCA & Counter Notice as the issue

under "additional information" you must provide the following: — a description of your fic that is being infringed (where you published it, date, where you post, under what names, etc) — a description of the bot that is infringing your work (include name of bot, what parts it is infringing and author's name at minimum). — a statement that you are the copyright holder have not authorized use of your property/fic in this manner nor given it to the author of the bot.

you will have to give your contact info including your full legal name, address and telephone number

provide the link to your original work (where you published it first) and the link to the bot.

Attachments (up to 5 allowed): — IMPORTANT: make sure at least one of these attachments is an electronic signature using your full legal name. i used this site to get one for free (i attached both signed and typed). — the other attachments I used to show proof of my fic vs their bot and the exact word for word similarities. and also when they blatantly said they were reuploading the bot on their profile which is likely why c.ai banned the rest of their bots.

extra tips:

if your ticket submission is successful you will get an email with a ticket number.

c.ai is pretty responsive (1-2 business days) so i would give it that long before submitting a new ticket.

you must submit EVERYTHING as I have wrote it or they will ask you to resubmit an entirely new ticket. following up with missing info did not work.

if the bot gets reuploaded you still have to submit an entirely new ticket (make sure to save and reference your old ticket number in new ticket).

everything i wrote here can be found under their tos in the DMCA section

hope this helps others authors. feel free to inbox or msg with any questions.

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[feelingthedisaster]

guys please recommend spidey in gotham fics, im writing one and i need inspo/getting into brainrot. THANK YOU

[octonerd]

guys what if...toxic yaori Isaloop. So hypothetically, what if someone wrote a post canon-fic that takes place a couple months after the game's end but in this version Siffrin's craft exhaustion had been much worse than canon. Siffrin as a result died in the house's infirmary a few days after the loops ended. Loop on the other hand never got to see Siffrin before they died as they had collapsed after the last battle (sif vs party) and therefore loop never faded away. The group continued to travel together to honor their memory (probably also keeping their belongings/or ashes to keep them with them) and in hopes of getting their sprits up. Loop trails the party while on their travels and one day accidentally ends up having to interact with Isabeau (up to whoever how so) and from there a small friendship starts to bud, with them "coincidently" meeting in town after town. This is a slow burn!!! Eventually both realize they have feelings for each other with differing reactions! Isabeau is worried that he's moving on too quickly from Siffrin and feels guilty even if they were never a thing. Once Isabeau finds out that loop is quite literally another Siffrin he feels even more guilt and becomes confused on whether he likes loop themself or because they so closely resemble Siffrin in personality. Loop is horrified when they first realize they are starting to catch feelings and tries to shut Isabeau out, they know that he isn't their Isabeau and feels like a thief. this whole concept was kind a built around the sentiment of "falling in love with someone's ghost"

[befuddled-calico-whump]

DMing for the first time in a year this week and it's for a party of 8 who have never played before

wish me luck 🫡🫡

[rafyki]

I'm ready to fight to defend Jack by the way, don't try me

[powcake]

why don't the bishops in cotl just steal their crowns back after being turned into followers?

like, the trophy is right there, just grab it!

Leshy probably doesn't see them, but what are heket, kallamar, and shamuras excuses? Do they just enjoy being w the lamb?

[forsty]

feels like we need to be way more vocal about bullying people who do AI generated stuff

no fucking tolerance for that soulless piece of crap

[red-might-be-dead]

i like to think that william has dead eyes. not the kind where he just looks tired or his eyelids are slightly heavier than normal, the kind where they look glazed over and have a sort of white layer to them. his pupils are grey and his brown eyes are much duller than they should be. the only time they ever really look clear at all is when he uses his wisp powers and they light up that electric blue. they always look alive though, even when they shouldnt. it may be slightly unnerving but his eyes will light up when he smiles and theyll sparkle when hes sad. it would definitely disturb a lot of people to see a dead boy look so alive.

[blkkizzat]

I really love your work, but it’s a little disheartening to see one of my favorite authors here be disrespectful toward another religion. Even if you’re not religious, showing respect doesn’t hurt. :)

i am catholic so respectfully i really don't give a fuck what anyone else feels about it cause its literally my own damn religion.

[druidonity2]

An AU in which Arthas won, but finds trouble when the Banshee Queen teams up with the Shadowreaper. Both are deeply troubled beings trying to come to terms with the lives they've lost, and both dream of clawing Arthas' face off at the very very least.

[sadkachow]

if i hear one more pro-ai take i fear i may start exploding people with my brain

[ghosttotheparty]

@thorniest-rose this is ur fault your tags on part one made me emotional so here’s one more part <3 love u also i added it as chapter two of broken brain <3

cw: tics; self-deprecation

“Hey, baby.”

Eddie looks up from where he’s sitting at the kitchen island, his legs crossed on his seat in front of him, setting his pen down.

“Hi.”

“How’re you?” Steve asks softly, taking off his vest and dropping it on the countertop, coming close.

“Having a rough day,” Eddie says, the words barely out of his mouth before his chin jerks to the side, turning his head sharply. He closes his eyes, sighing heavily, and before he can open them, Steve is sliding his hands over Eddie’s neck gently, rubbing it tenderly. Eddie moves slowly, shifting to face Steve, and before he can lean into Steve’s torso, his hand flies out and hits Steve’s hip hard. Eddie flinches, pressing his hand to the spot carefully.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve murmurs, one of his hands pushing through Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s stomach twists, and he huffs quietly, closing his eyes. “What is it?”

Eddie shakes his head, opening his eyes to look up at him.

Steve touches his face, his fingers brushing over his cheek, over the rough, sensitive skin of his scar, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“What is it?” he asks quietly.

Eddie exhales, turning his cheek into Steve’s palm, feeling the tension leave his body.

“…How are you not tired of me?” he asks after a moment.

Steve blinks, his expression hardening, but his hands remain soft on him.

“What do you mean?” he asks in a small voice.

“I just…” Eddie shrugs weakly. “Feel like you should be fed up with me by now,” he half-jokes, but Steve frowns, his fingers trailing over Eddie’s jaw.

“Why would you think that?” he asks quietly, like he’s offended.

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes stinging a little bit. His hand tightens on Steve’s hip, one of his fingers holding loop of his jeans.

“I keep hitting you,” he says weakly. It happens often. Not as often as his whistling, or his head jerking, his eyes squeezing shut or rolling to the ceiling, but often. When they’re on the sofa, when they’re hugging, when they’re just talking. Eddie wants to cry every time, but Steve doesn’t even acknowledge it, except for the occasional it’s okay.

“You can’t control that, babe,” Steve says adamantly.

“I know, it’s just…” Eddie looks away, frustrated. “I keep hurting you.”

“I think you think you hit a lot harder than you do.”

“Steve,” Eddie says seriously, tugging at his belt loop, looking up at him. “I almost smacked you in the face the other day.”

“You redirected,” Steve says lightly, shrugging.

“Steve.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“I…” Of course he doesn’t. But it feels like Steve should be mad at him. Or at least annoyed. “I don’t know.”

“Well I’m not,” Steve says firmly, holding his chin. “Ever. Okay?”

It doesn’t make Eddie feel better. He exhales, looking down, at the blue ink on the top of Steve’s thigh, rough doodles on his jeans from when he gets bored at work.

Steve sighs, pushing Eddie’s hair back before he lets go of him, moving so Eddie’s hand falls from his hip, and he pushes Eddie’s sketchbook out of the way, looking at the drawing on the open page. It’s an unfinished sketch, messy and not very good at all in Eddie’s overly humble opinion, but Steve smiles at it.

“‘S good,” he says softly as he pulls himself up onto the counter. Eddie watches him, watches the muscles of his arms flex, and his cheeks flush with warmth when Steve reaches for the armrests of his chair and easily pulls him closer, between his legs.

Eddie looks up at him, that familiar feeling settling in his chest, and he reaches his hands up, setting his arms across Steve’s legs, holding his hips again.

“Talk,” Steve says softly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He touches said head, runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, scratches at his scalp. Eddie wants to cry.

Eddie sighs, leaning to rest his cheek on Steve’s knee, closing his eyes.

“Just…” His shoulder jerks slightly. He ignores it. “I don’t know. Kinda crazy you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

“Why would I ever get sick of you?” Steve asks softly, playing with Eddie’s hair. “Hm?”

“Because I keep hitting you,” Eddie says sullenly, letting go of Steve’s hips. “Because I… throw things and hit things and I’m… noisy.” He pushes Steve’s shirt up with one hand, the other falling under the island, untucking it and pressing his hands under the fabric to Steve’s skin. “I interrupt. I’m annoying.”

Steve pulls his hands away and untucks the rest of his shirt, holding it up with one hand so Eddie can trace his scars softly, gazing.

“You’re not annoying, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t believe him, and Steve can tell.

“Eddie, baby, look at me.”

Eddie looks at him without lifting his head. His vision is obstructed by his hair, and Steve gently moves it out of the way.

“You are not annoying,” he says again, softer, his eyes shining earnestly. “I know you can’t control it.”

“That just makes it more annoying,” Eddie grumbles.

“No, it doesn’t.” Steve’s fingers drag through his hair.

Eddie exhales, looking back at where his hand is tracing Steve’s scars.

“You’re annoyed by it,” Steve says, and Eddie nods against his leg. “I’m not, Eddie.”

Eddie is quiet, a tingling starting on his shoulders like he’s going to shiver, and he tenses.

“Alright, Eddie, look at me,” Steve says, his voice shifting, tapping Eddie’s cheek to prompt him to lift his head. Eddie does, muttering a soft, “Hold on,” and looking away. He pushes his shoulders back, closing his eyes, and Steve waits quietly, patiently, until Eddie’s head jerks back violently, and his shoulders shrug up suddenly. A second passes before Eddie drops his head, sighing and relaxing.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Eddie shivers before he looks up at him tiredly, and Steve leans down, holding his face between his face, looking into his eyes.

“I need you to, like, really listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes.

“When I say that you’re annoying,” Steve says, still looking into his eyes, “or obnoxious, or any of those things, I don’t mean it. I’m just teasing. And if you don’t like it, or if it hurts you, I’ll stop.” He looks so earnest that Eddie almost hurts. “And when I say those things,” Steve says slowly, carefully and intentionally, “I’m talking about how you act with the kids, usually. When you’re…” He shrugs, smiling softly. “Immature and chaotic. But even though I tease, I love when you act like that.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Even though it riles them up?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Because they get to just be kids when you’re fucking around with them.”

Oh.

Eddie smiles softly.

“And,” Steve continues, “when I say those things, I am never, ever talking about your tics. You understand me?”

Eddie nods weakly, his eyes burning.

“You are not annoying to me, Eddie,” Steve says softly, leaning down and leaving a careful kiss on his lips. “I promise.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Eddie asks, exasperated. Steve looks at him.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks quietly.

“It’s constant, Steve,” Eddie says, his eyes burning. “And you just… put up with it, you— you’re always getting me ice, or holding my hand still, or getting pillows for me, or…” He exhales, looking up at Steve desperately. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“I like taking care of you,” Steve says adamantly. Eddie looks away, holding back an eyeful. “Eddie, I’m serious, look at me.”

Eddie looks up at him. His lips are pressed together, his eyes shining with some unreadable, desperate emotion.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

Steve leans down and kisses him, holding his face between his hands so his cheeks are squishing under his palms, sucking softly on his lower lip, slow and careful like everything he’s ever done with Eddie.

He pauses when they part, their foreheads pressed together, breathing a little hard, holding Eddie close. Eddie slides his other hand under Steve’s shirt. His skin is warm. His scars are rough, the skin thick and sensitive, tender evidence of his survival. Eddie likes to kiss them.

“I love you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie’s eyes open. His breath escapes him, and it’s like his bones melt. He slumps, squeezing his eyes shut as the words wash over him, his hands squeezing Steve’s sides softly.

“Really?” he chokes, pulling away after a moment. Steve’s eyes are tear-filled.

“Really really,” he says softly. Eddie blinks tears back, sliding his hands over Steve’s sides.

“I don’t get tired of taking care of you,” Steve murmurs, looking at Eddie’s face, his thumb brushing over his trembling lip, “because taking care of you, and helping you, and looking after you is… me loving you.” He pauses for a moment, letting their foreheads touch. “And I don’t ever get tired of loving you.”

Eddie’s whole body hurts.

He chokes Steve’s name weakly, his voice broken, almost squeaking, too high and small for it to even be understood, but Steve just kisses him even though he can’t kiss back, because tears are streaming down his cheeks, over Steve’s fingers.

A small sob escapes Eddie, and Steve pulls him into a hug, running his hands over his head as he buries his face in Steve’s belly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, his hands pressing into the small of his back, against his warm skin. Steve’s hands are shaking as they run through his hair.

Eddie’s shoulders jerk as he cries, just once, and Steve’s hands smooth over them gently, sweetly, gathering his hair back.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve's voice says softly, and Eddie feels like he’s surfacing from under cold water, gasping for breath, like his lungs are breathing properly for the first time in his life.

“I love you too,” he chokes, lifting his head and looking up at him. His vision is blurry with tears. He can still see Steve’s smile. “I love you so much.”

Steve laughs softly, sniffling, leaning down to kiss him chastely.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly, focusing on the feeling of Steve’s hands running over his cheeks, wiping his tears away. His head shakes slightly, but Steve doesn’t move his hands. He leans down to kiss his forehead.

“God,” Eddie exhales, holding his hips above the waistband of his jeans. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Steve whispers. “You don’t have to apologize and you don’t have to thank me.”

He leans down and kisses his lips gently, murmuring a soft I love you, and Eddie reaches up, sliding his hands over Steve’s shoulders, over his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss him harder. After a moment he remembers that he’s sitting, and without pulling away, he stands, kicking his chair back noisily, one of his hands pushing into Steve’s hair as the other clutches at the small of his back. Steve’s legs wrap around his waist, and he tilts his head to kiss him deeper, holding Eddie’s face like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

They’re both breathless and panting when they part. Steve’s fingers dance over the sides of Eddie’s neck, over his scars, making him shiver. (It’s a nice shiver.) They press their foreheads together, sharing breaths, eyes closed.

Steve pulls away after a moment, caressing Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’m not gonna get tired of you, Eddie,” he whispers. “You’re stuck with me, baby.”

Eddie laughs softly, sniffling and nuzzling his face into Steve’s cheek.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[abelas]

you guys are gonna go feral for the characters im writing