#maybe this is just inspiration and not plagiarism

[juniorjules]

I feel like we should talk about how Brooklyn 99 totally did a die hard reference paintball episode AND gave jake the “cool cool cool” thing.

[chuluoyi]

it’s really beyond me how subposting is still a recurring event in this hellsite — but i’ll say it once again: if you don’t like what i write or what i do in my own blog, then kindly leave or block me. mutuals or not, i won’t care a shit. you don’t go subposting or spreading hate. that’s highly immature behavior befitting a child :)

i don’t know if it isn’t obvious already, but i spent lots and lots of time rethinking while writing my fics. most of the time it takes weeks or months. whether i’m basing it on a manhwa or not, i spent a lot of time thinking and writing it—for months even—so if you don’t even read it and just label it as if i just plagiarized it in one go… it actually makes me so upset

just… be peaceful pls. if you don’t like it, then block me. it’s so simple if you think about it like a mature adult. unless you’re incapable to. thank you

[liesonthefloordramatically]

I keep thinking about a dream I had several weeks ago where the Muppets got into journalism and started releasing all these hard-hitting documentaries and won a whole bunch of prestigious awards and THEN got exposed for fabricating a whole bunch of material ala Stephen Glass, and there was a HUGE firestorm online and all these people had to give public apologies like, "I can't believe I was duped by the Muppets; I really should have done my due diligence and asked questions such as 'how are the Muppets managing to infiltrate terrorist cells' and 'how are the Muppets filming in active war zones' before giving them the Pulitzer Prize"

[senditcolton]

hello! i can’t believe i missed sleepover night 😔 but i hope you feel better than you did yesterday so you can thoroughly enjoy your weekend plans!!

i, too, love the little cloud - somehow they truly managed to represent the fluffy mess! just a little question about yourself and your art: i know you love a good songfic and i adore reading them even more but i wonder what else helps keep you inspired?

— ☁️

hello dear!

i absolutely adore any cartoon fluffy thing. my favorite are when people draw bunnies like little poof balls with ears!

as to what keeps me inspired (asides from songs but in a very similar vein) is anything that people create: books, movies, etc. some of the moodboard/edit creators on here inspire the heck out of me - i swear every time Tiff (@smileysvech) posts one of her moodboards, i have to stop myself from making a fic to accompany it.

i think i've seen this advice before but the more you immerse yourself in other peoples creativity, it will help fuel yours!!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris’s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[ddostoyevskyy]

The first time Bakugo Katsuki let you borrow one of his gauntlet was the time he realized he’s in love with you.

You share the same determination of being number one, and as much as he hates people who get out of his way, surprisingly — you never show the sign of negativity; you were supportively competitive in a way that it made his stomach churns vividly. As a result, his aggresion towards you backlashed the hidden feelings he felt.

Just as you thought; his gauntlet was heavy and overbearing on your arm — the gloves were thick and slightly bigger than your palm, the warm sensation of his quirk remains on the equipment as you tried to raise your arm. He watches you struggle, almost getting impatient by the way he put a hand on his hip as he stared at you with sharp eyes. Although, there is no denying the feeling when he watches you train with his weapon using the glycerin he stored.

Maybe he’ll keep that one extra weapon you always bring that almost weigh as much as the gauntlet in your arm.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... edited. This was inspired with Izuku borrowing his gauntlet fighting with All Might on that episode in season 3.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2024 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[prokopetz]

A big part of cultivating creative discipline is accepting that you can't just sit around waiting for inspiration to strike and learning how to write without it, but the other half is learning never to let inspiration go to waste when it does strike.

If you've got an idea for something that you'll never be able to show to anyone else – maybe it's too personal, maybe it's too pornographic, maybe it just doesn't fit your idiom – you should absolutely go ahead and write it anyway.

This isn't a "write for yourself" thing (and there's no shame in being uninterested in writing for yourself – art is about communication!): it's a "building your portfolio" thing. Self-plagiarism is one of the most fundamental skills of any artist, and you never know what random scribble is going to turn up exactly what's needed for some seemingly unrelated project later on.

Like, it's not likely that that grotesquely self-indulgent character piece where your fandom crush inexplicably has three dicks will randomly prove to contain the missing ingredient for that novel you've been procrastinating on writing, but it can never entirely be ruled out!

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Sylus: Just In Case | NSFW

This? This was supposed to be a fic inspired by how he has his middle and ring finger nails trimmed in his new outfit. And then somehow it turned into this? It still has the fingernail bit tho istg this is the Sylus fingering Reader in a Yurt fic.

❧ Pairings: Sylus x Reader ❧ Warnings: Jealousy, Self Doubt, Comfort, Words of Affirmation, Teasing, Hickeys, Nipple Biting, Fingers, Clothes Grinding, Coming in Pants, Top Sylus ❧ Synopsis: You hated the fact that you were jealous over something so trivial. Ever since traveling with the tribe, and seeing how they all swooned over Sylus, it was hard not to feel a certain way. Then there were the words Tarna has said to you: "Whoever takes them, keeps them." ❧ Word Count: 4.4k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Just In Case

It was already the second night that you had been in the Grasslands. You were exhausted from all the traveling you had done that day, and when you guys set up to stay the night, you had all but collapsed onto your bed roll. Your body ached from all the horseback riding you had done, but it wasn’t like it was unsatisfying. You had seen Sylus basically winning every challenge that came his way, not to mention the sweet gesture he had made when braiding your hair.

Tarna had tried to convince you to join the rest at the bonfire they had set up, but you had politely declined. Sylus, on the other hand, was a night owl. He had been more than happy to join in and had even tried getting you to join, to no avail. So he promised to rejoin you later when he got tired and let you head inside to rest.

The braid he gave you earlier had already been taken out as you laid down, curled up on your shared bed accommodation. You could still hear Sylus’ voice, speaking with some of the locals. Even if he didn’t speak their language, Tarna had been more than happy to translate. Not to mention, he just had a way of communicating with others without the need for words.

You could hear the laughter of some of the women, and flashes of them touching him went through your mind. You tried brushing them aside as you curled up deeper into your bed roll. Sylus was naturally a little more flirtatious, or at least that was your experience with him. You could only hope that demeanor wasn’t leading anyone on.

For just a moment, you even had doubts he’d be coming back to the same tent you were in. You knew Sylus wasn’t like that, but you could still have your own doubts and fears. Thankfully, those thoughts escaped as you heard the flaps of the yurt opening as Sylus came inside, along with the rustling of fabrics. He shed a few layers so he could sleep comfortably. “I thought you said you were tired, yet here you are, awake.” Sylus’ voice broke out in the small yurt and you rolled over just in time to watch him crawl in next to you.

At first, you weren’t planning on even deeming him with a reply to his little comment; maybe trying to fake being asleep would make him not talk. You made a bit of room, allowing him to have some of the blankets. Unlike the night before, you made no move in scooting closer to him. The words Tarna had spoken earlier played in your head like a bad record: “Whoever takes them, keeps them.”

Why did that bother you so much? It was clear that he had caught the eye of every single woman in the area; the way they whispered while watching him compete was enough to let you know. They made it obvious as well, one of them even going up to touch his arm and speak to him.

He had been cordial enough, but the self-doubt in your mind rolled through it like a dark storm. You and Sylus had made leaps and bounds in your relationship, but you hadn’t crossed the threshold of romance yet. Gods, you wanted to so badly. You just were too unsure about everything, and you hated that feeling. It wasn’t even like you needed to doubt Sylus. He had made it so painfully obvious he didn’t have eyes for anyone else other than you. He was just polite when the situation wasn’t business…teasing but polite.

You decided that the silence was too deafening at the moment as you spoke, “It was hard to sleep with all the noise outside,” you said, and Sylus hummed. He had already gotten comfortable, and you could sense the weariness from him. A second night of having to reassure you would be annoying, right? You kept your mouth shut, opting just to ignore the festering feelings in your gut since clearly that was a healthy decision.

“It seems it’s more than that, kitten,” He began, “You’re restless now. Don’t tell me your mind is causing you to stress again,” you felt his hand in your hair as he pushed some of it back. You didn’t even want to look at him right now, worried that you’d say something stupid. You couldn’t stop how your body responded, though, leaning into his touch like a cat.

“It’s nothing, really.” It was a flimsy excuse, judging by how your voice wavered. You hated the jealousy you felt, how it was settling into you to the point where you wanted to be sick. You didn’t think of yourself as the jealous type by any means, but here you were, absolutely upset over hypotheticals. You wanted to convince yourself just not to feel this way, but that was easier said than done as you were mentally screaming.

Sylus frowned, the look marring his pretty face slightly. You really did prefer it when he smiled, even if it was at your own expense. The teasing smirk you often found was at least focused on you and nobody else. “This is clearly something. I don’t think you’d be worried about making it home for two nights in a row,” he propped himself up into his elbow, looking at you, “My ears are always open for you, sweetie.”

Your heart began beating a little faster at his comment as you cleared your throat, “It’s…do you recall what Tarna said the day before?” you decide to test the waters and see if he recalled the information. You highly doubted the saying she taught you guys was on his mind; it shouldn’t have even been on yours.

“She said a lot of things; you’ll need to be more straightforward. What did she say that’s upsetting you?” He was speaking gently right now, making you feel even worse about your feelings. Why was he always so damn patient with you, always willing to reassure you even over something so trivial? When you first met Sylus, you had no clue that this side of him even existed, and it did things to you both physically and emotionally.

You cleared your throat, “Whoever takes them…keeps them.” You clarified, finally meeting his gaze, “That statement.” You could see the flash of recognition in his eyes when he realized what this was about. He had already seen your jealous side earlier by the river, but now it had only gotten worse. He had been nice about it back then, but would you only annoy him by bringing it up again? It’s not like you two were dating, even if you flirted and teased one another like it was some competition.

“Are you worried about that?” He asked, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “That someone is going to take me away?” he asked, and you sighed. He managed to figure it out quickly.

“I mean…I’ve just seen how the others have been looking at you,” like they were drawn to an oasis in a hot desert, “And you’re my ticket home after all…” You wanted to kick yourself the moment the words came out of your mouth. You just had to avoid telling him how you really felt, didn’t you?

He didn’t seem upset at the statement; if anything, he was amused. “I won’t be stolen away that easily.” He assured, “Though I must say I’m flattered that you’ve been keeping such a close eye on me today. So much so that you didn’t even realize that some of the men in the village have been giving you the same look.”

You had to take a moment to process what he said…people had been looking at you? There was no way. It made sense for Sylus, and he was charismatic, handsome, and strong. You were…well, you were a jealous hunter. You did recall how he had braided your hair and the way he had mentioned how only lovers should see their partner’s hair in its natural state…could it be he was jealous as well? No, you were probably overthinking things.

“I…” you said, but you couldn’t get the right words out. He had the tendency to make you speechless, and right now, it was no different. Everything you wanted to say had vanished right into the air as you looked up at those red eyes that were so damn soft at the moment. How could you even think he’d look at anyone else like this? Those sharp eyes of his looked lovestruck at times when it was just the two of you.

“If you’re truly worried, you can always lay a claim on me,” he suggested, and you flushed right away. Your eyes widened at every implication that could’ve meant. You buried your face in the pillow underneath you, now unable to meet his gaze for several reasons, “Kitten, look at me. What’s wrong? Don’t tell me your mind went to the gutter.” His voice was now teasing. Screw the gentle look he was giving you; now you knew for a fact his eyes were shining with amusement at your expense.

“Do you not listen to yourself?” you managed to hiss out the question. His chuckles filled your ears as you let out an embarrassed whine from the back of your throat. Why were you jealous of this man in the first place? He was horrible. A jerk face. Every mean name under the sun couldn’t begin to describe him when he was like this. Why did you like it? That was the real question.

“Well, now I’m curious about what you’re thinking. I was just going to say you could ride with me tomorrow, perhaps hold my arm during rests.” Lies, all of them, and now your mind was definitely in the trenches at him mentioning ‘riding’ of any kind. “What were you thinking?” he laughed again, and you let out an annoyed huff. He was egging you on, and it was working as per usual.

You sat up suddenly and turned to him, pushing on his chest until he was lying on his back. He let out a grunt, but he also had that shit-eating grin on his face as he looked up at you, waiting for your next move. You didn’t even know what your next move would be, honestly. Now that you were here, straddling the man’s waist, your mind was going almost completely blank, so you let your instincts take over.

You leaned down until your breath ghosted over his neck, placing a small kiss there before going in to suck on the skin. You felt him shifting underneath you as you marked him, doing your best to make it known that he was taken. Even if it was a small hickey, it might’ve been enough to get the others to back off, knowing exactly who shared a bed with him at night, who left a mark on his flawless skin.

When your lips finally parted, you could see the blooming mark on his skin. It was a light purple one right on his jugular, and while it wasn’t much, you doubted anyone would mistake it for anything else. Your fingers went over to touch the mark, admiring your handy work.

Sylus’ hand went up and pressed down on where you left the mark, and as a result pressed your own hand closer to him; his eyes curious and holding a hunger to them, “Oh, is that all? You know, people might just think I got a bruise from all the competing I did today. Sweetie, you might need to try a little harder than that.” He was still egging you on to get you to do exactly what he wanted.

Still, if he wanted to play this game, then so be it. You looked over his outfit and eyed something that, honestly, was the first thing you noticed when he had originally put it on. The little voice in the back of your head even supplied you with the fact that the outfit managed to look slutty on him, something you adored. Sadly, it was another reason why everyone else was eying him up and down all day. The man was well-built, and you knew why. You two had trained together, and after you were already tired, he continued on. You swore he had even managed to gain some new muscle recently.

You leaned down to his chest and glanced up at him quickly before deciding to just go all in. One of his nipples was exposed, and you were damn certain if you left a mark right there, nobody in their right mind would mistake it for a simple bruise. So you bit him, clamping down on his nipple, and, with your current position, you felt him rolling his hips up into you.

He let out a groan as you lapped at the bud in your mouth and pulled away, happy to see that there was a distinct mark where your teeth were. Your hand went over it gently, fingers barely touching him. You felt him roll his hips again in response and felt a warmth blooming in you when you felt something hard against your ass. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was getting erect from this, hell if you were in his situation, you might’ve busted already.

“Think they’ll mistake this for an injury with your…competition today?” you asked with a satisfied smirk on your face. Sylus was looking at you for a moment, trying to process what you just did to him, and then you felt his hand on the back of your neck.

He grabbed you closer to him, and you let out a small gasp when his lips were on your throat. He was pushing down some of the garments you wore to give him access as he bit down on the skin there. You hissed at the sharp pain, realizing that, unlike you, he could commit.

As soon as he left that area of your neck, he went to the front of your throat, sucking a mark that bloomed under his lips. You were now the one who ground down onto his lap, feeling yourself growing wet as he pressed a small kiss there, “S-Sy, what are you…?” you managed to rasp out; you were already crumbling because of this man.

“You aren’t the only one who needs to lay claim to someone,” he said as he began marking another area of skin. It felt too good that you clamped a hand down over your mouth to muffle the noises, “I wasn’t a fan of the others looking at you as though you were available for them to take you. I do have a possessive streak, after all, kitten.”

He sucked a fourth mark; this one was right under your ear as you groaned, “Did you not want the others to hear you? I’m sure if they did, it would send a message loud and clear.” He rolled his hips back into you, making sure there was no mistake about precisely what he wanted to do right now.

“W-we’re guests, Sy,” you managed to get out, “We don’t want to make a scene.” And at the rate this was going, you were five seconds from pushing him back down and riding him until the sun came up. You could already imagine the dirty looks you’d get tomorrow morning from everyone who lost sleep due to your…activities.

“I guess you make a fair point,” he murmured as he let you go. Your entire neck was now covered in marks as you glared down at him. You could lie to him all you wanted, but inside, you felt a bit giddy. Knowing that the other women of the tribe would see you and just know it was Sylus who put the markings on you. You were almost tempted to leave even more on him, but he was already being nice and not pushing it. You doubted if you continued to tease him, he’d be okay with just going to bed after this. He’d do it, sure, but he might be a bit grumpy and…uncomfortable.

Still, you needed to hold yourself back for your own sanity. You carefully extracted yourself from him and rolled off to your side to face away from him. If he did anything else, you wouldn’t be able to hold back. You certainly had never fucked him, and from what you felt just now, he was…big. Riding a horse tomorrow would be a nightmare if he were to rail you right here and now. Still, if you were going to have sex, you’d rather it be back home where you wouldn’t need to cover up all your noises and didn’t need to worry about getting up the next day.

“Running away?” Sylus said as you heard the rustling of fabrics once more. He adjusted your head as he laid his arm out, allowing you to use it as a pillow. The rest of his body wrapped around you as he spooned you from behind, “After you started it, you’re now hiding. Adorable.” The way he all but whispered that into your ear had you shuddering.

“I just don’t think it’s the…place for that…” you said, hoping he’d read between the lines. Thankfully, it seemed he did, but you let out a gasp when you felt a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. He was driving you mad with his casual shows of affection; even cuddling you like this was making you yearn for something so much more.

“Of course, I understand,” he managed to murmur, “But will you be able to actually rest now, in this state?” his other hand trailed down to your stomach, pushing some of the fabric around as he continued trailing his hand further down until it was bunching at the long skirt you wore.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you muttered, a small shiver running down your spine as he began rolling the skirt up so he could press down on your bare thigh. His hand was so hot it felt like he was branding you with it.

He cupped the skin there, just trailing a hand over it as he spoke, “I need you to let me know if it’s alright to continue,” he said, clearly holding himself back. You could feel how your underwear clung to you, almost soaking through the fabric. Obviously, you wanted this, but would you be capable of keeping it together, and now that you are moaning so loud, the entire tribe could hear you? Fuck it, you could try.

“Just…just your hand,” you got out, and he chuckled. Sylus’ hand was now moving upwards without any hesitation, and now he had the green light to continue; he was intent on making the most of it. You felt the warmth of his palm cupping you through your underwear, and you held back a moan, instead biting down on your lip as his fingers trailed along the slick that coated them.

“You’ve managed to flatter me twice in one night,” he commented, pressing his fingers against your cunt and rubbing you through the layers, “I’m glad I have this effect on you though.” He was now finally pushing the underwear off to the side to give him access to your pussy. He trailed a finger over the slickness of your slit, barely pressing a finger into you. It hard you shuddering, almost begging him to just put them inside of you already.

Then you noticed the bluntness of his nails, which startled you as you thought for a moment. You swore up and down he had nails…didn’t he? Despite how turned on you were, the question was running through your head, “Sylus…when did you cut your nails?” you swore they weren’t short earlier.

He actually laughed at your statement, “Sweetie, you’re asking me this right as I’m about to be knuckle deep in you?” He asked, and you let out a small huff, “I have. You know I like to keep two of my nails trimmed…just in case.” You looked back at him with wide eyes. Before you could say anything, he was already reassuring you, “I did it for you, so don’t overthink it,” the moment the words came out, he sunk his fingers into your cunt.

Your mouth opened wide as a moan left you, and your cheeks felt flushed; at the angle, you had turned to, Sylus had a perfect view of it. You quickly moved your head away, nuzzling into the arm underneath you. He had the audacity to laugh again as he began fingering you, the digits easily slipping inside of you with how turned on you were. You felt how his thumb pressed against your clit, and you were now rolling into the palm of his hand, seeking more from him.

“You know, you have an effect on me as well.” As if to prove his point, he rolled his hips up into your ass. You could feel his hot cock through the layers, the hardness making you shiver. Your walls clenched around his fingers, “Hm, you seemed to like that. Perhaps when we’re back home, we’ll need to have a redo of this night.” He muttered—gods, what you wouldn’t give to be back home right about now. How many more days until the festival when you guys could go back? Could it be right now so you could be shoved into a mattress already and fucked until you couldn’t walk?

You were now caught between wanting to grind on his cock, while also rolling into his hand as the wet squelching noises began filling the yurt. You bit down on your lip and tried to focus, and Sylus clicked his tongue from behind you.

“If you’re going to bite on something, use my arm. I wouldn’t mind more marks from you, kitten.” Sylus instructed, and in your lust-filled haze, you didn’t question it. Instead, you turned your head and sank your teeth into the arm underneath you. You heard Sylus groan as his grinding began more insistent, as did his hand. He seemed to be trying to get you to cum before him, and you were so close. Your thighs were shaking already as you tried to squeeze Sylus’ hand between your legs.

You felt that familiar warmth inside of your stomach, and with his skilled fingers and the press of his thumb along your clit you found yourself unraveling. You didn’t even realize an orgasm could be this good as you bit down harder on him. For some reason, it felt so much better that he was the one to touch you. Perhaps it had been the build-up, but right now, as you came, your head was static, and thoughts refused to form as the euphoric sensation wet through your entire body.

You were rolling into his touch, trying to prolong the feeling for as long as possible as he worked you through it, feeling how you squeezed his fingers. Your pussy throbbed around him, and the only thing on his mind was how it would feel around his cock.

When you finally released his arm from your teeth and began feeling a bit more normal, he took his fingers out. Your body was still buzzing with the aftershocks as he pressed his slick-coated fingers against your mouth. You didn’t think twice as you opened up and let him put the digits inside your mouth.

You groaned at the musky taste of yourself on him as he pressed down on your tongue. You sucked his fingers clean as you felt how he was still rutting against you. His hips stuttered in his movement as he groaned, and you wondered what he might taste like. You almost wished his fingers were his cock, and he was coming down your throat at that moment. If he had just waited a few more moments, you might’ve indulged that fantasy.

His breathing was heavier as he rolled his hips against your ass a few more times before he stopped and stilled against you. He removed his fingers and went to kiss the back of your neck. His hand now wrapped around your torso in a possessive grip as he held you there, nuzzling into you.

“Did you…in your pants?” you couldn’t help but ask; in response, you got a chuckle out of the man behind you. The breath of air was chilly on your slightly damp next as you flinched away.

“Very observant, but yes,” he said, “We’ll both be needing to get cleaned up before we properly go to bed.” His words made you pout as you rolled over to face him. He looked good like this, and you could see some of his flush hadn’t gone away after his orgasm. It was a rare treat to see him like this as you mentally stored the image away.

“Okay, but now I’m actually sleepy,” you muttered, and he just gave you a knowing look. It was the look of: “Your excuses aren’t going to save you this time.”

“I’m sure you are, kitten, so I’ll just carry you down to the river myself if you’re going to be acting like this.” He mused, “I wasn’t asking; I was telling you. We need to clean up.” You hated that he was being responsible. Sure, you knew it was important, but your body felt sluggish now, and you just wanted to rest.

“What if someone sees?” you asked, and he raised an eyebrow. His arm was now snaking around to the front of your neck, grazing over the marks that painted your skin like constellations.

“Then let them, not like I care in the slightest. Besides, it’ll be obvious come tomorrow with all our new markings,” he commented, and you looked down at his arm, which had an angry, red bite mark. You flushed as you went to kiss it; he had a point. Hopefully, nobody had heard the wet noises earlier; to you, it had been deafening in the quiet of the night.

“Fine…were you serious when you offered to carry me?” you said while poking at his exposed stomach.

“You’re like a feather to me. Come on.” You felt how his arms wrapped around you as he made you two sit up. Your hands wrapped around his neck as he stood up from the bed. You locked your legs around his waist as he adjusted you in his grasp.

The only thing on your mind now was how badly you wanted to get back home, to Linkon, to the N109 Zone, so that you could properly fuck this man.

Anyway, this was inspired by a post I saw by @aeyumicore which btw did you now if I ever say I'm tempted to write something and someone says do it, I will probably do it. In one sitting. This took three hours to outline, write, and then edit.

[dumb-butch-syndrome]

thanks for the thoughtful reply!

I'm not a professional artist so idk if I have enough skin in this game to give a properly considered answer (and I don't really want to speak for those who do), but to my understanding, calling generative AI plagiaristic comes from that place of them being by design incapable of providing attribution, regardless of how strongly their outputs are influenced by a specific artist. A human artist will typically know when it's appropriate to credit another artist with style / substance / etc. inspiration for one of their pieces and can provide attribution when appropriate. Generative AI has no way of knowing how heavily a specific artist's work has influenced its outputs because of the way a trained model works, so can't give attribution even if it's relevant or necessary.

When I added those tags, OP hadn't added the follow-ups that they were talking about copyright law, and I was looking at plagiarism from an academic standpoint rather than a legal one. In that framing I do still think plagiarism is a decent term for what these models do with their input data, if only because we don't currently have a more accurate word for the specific kind of large-scale impersonal unattributed use of other people's work that generative AI relies on. I don't know enough about copyright law (especially US copyright law, which I assume is what OP is talking about) to really have an opinion on that aspect.

The definition of "plagiarism" and "copying" being changed from "copying verbatim someone else's work" to "creating an entirely new never-seen-before piece of work with input from a tool that may have at one point read metadata about someone else's work" is such insane obvious batshit overreach, but people are repeating it as if it's a given just because it gives them a reason to hate the fucking machines.

So done with this conversation. After a year of trying to explain this stuff to people nicely I am just completely done with it.

[educatedsimps]

— a kiss on the shoulder

≪ back to fics masterlist

HQ headcanons when you kiss his shoulder for the first time :)

multiple haikyuu x gn!reader, reader is average height and shorter than hq men for the sake of this hc HAHA

a/n: just some fluffy thoughts i had inspired by my bf

holding hands with him was the usual whenever you hung out or went out together and the feeling of your hand in his always felt really nice

maybe it was a nice evening out and you two decided to take a walk down the street or run some errands together

inevitably you felt the urge to give him a peck on the cheek or the lips every once in a while, but if you’re conservative and shy you might not want to in public (or if he’s shy abt pda)

on top of that he’s taller than you, so there’s physically no way to kiss him without tip toeing and/or pulling him down towards you

so in a moment of ingenious thinking, you decided to kiss his shoulder instead

i mean it's the most convenient place to kiss him while you're walking so why not

anyway, then you watched as his eyes widened a little and his cheeks flushed an adorable pink

asahi, KAGEYAMA, tsukki, yamaguchi, oikawa, IWAIZUMI, kuroo, bokuto, AKAASHI, USHIJIMA, tendo, osamu, suna, kita, aran

bonus!

the ones who would reach over, grab your chin and kiss the top of your head in response then give your hand a lil squeeze as you keep walking ↳ IWAIZUMI, OSAMU, kita, aran

the ones who would stop and go "...what are you doing." but are inwardly freaking out because your lips left a tingly feeling on his skin (he secretly loves it) ↳ TSUKKI, kageyama, akaashi (would def give you a bunch of kisses once you get home tho)

the ones who would tease tf outta you cuz "don't you want the real thing? hm?" ↳ KUROO, SUNA, tendo

and the ones who would start stuttering and blushing even more ↳ BOKUTO, yamaguchi, asahi probably he's a softie

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. but likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: with things getting complicated, you and ken have a talk about the future of your relationship

content warning: mentions of sex, profanity and cursing

word count: 1.2k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

005: showing teeth

Sweaty, tangled mess of bodies. Deja vu. The two of you lay side by side, sprawled on your bed, comforter kicked off—it was too hot to touch. The ceiling fan spun circles above the two of you, with little fruition. Nothing was going to beat the summer heat.

“I read your little notebook,” Ken says, breaking the silence. “It’s some pretty heavy stuff.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“It’s just me. I’ve always found I wrote best when I was at my worst.”

“The tortured poets thing is true?”

You laugh.

“Maybe, I mean, I guess it just inspires me, y’know?”

He nods his head.

“I don’t think it’s true though, what you said in there,” he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you, his gray irises shining in the moonlight that seeped in through your window. “About being unfixable.”

You give him a sympathetic look.

“Thanks, but I guess being unfixable isn’t what scares me the most,” you bite your lip and fidget with your fingers, picking at the skin, “it’s being alone, I think—because that would just prove I’m unlovable.”

Ken reaches for you and presses a kiss onto your shoulder. His touch feels tender, his lips like the paper-thin wings of a butterfly. You want to ask him to do it again. You rub the spot where he kissed you in little circles.

“I don’t think you’re unlovable.” He says, in a whisper—almost like a prayer. You feel sucked into his gaze—like his eyes were bottomless pools that you wanted to drown yourself in. You feel your breath hitch in your throat and the salty pang of chlorine hitting your nose.

“Don’t,” you whisper back, voice trembling slightly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you could love me.”

He frowns at your statement but knows better than to try to convince you otherwise. The ability to do so was something difficult to prove, and it would take years for you to ever convince yourself of something like that. Let alone coming from a stranger—someone who should’ve been a one-night-stand. So instead of saying anything he wraps his arms around you combs his fingers through your hair, your cheek resting on the nape of his neck.

When morning came, you had to tear him away from yourself, remind him that he needed to go to practice.

“They won’t miss me there, but I’ll miss you,” he says, trying to get another kiss. You laugh. You parted out by your door, kissing each other goodbye (again) and promising to see each other whenever your schedules allowed. You told him where he could find you and he promised to come visit soon, next time with only one kind of takeout and something for the dogs.

The two of you saw each other frequently throughout the next couple of months. Like clockwork, he came over every Wednesday and Sunday night—arms open and wide smile, barely having taken off his shoes in your hallway before rushing over to pepper you with kisses. You would binge TV shows together, scarf down food, walk the dogs, and make wild, passionate sex whenever allowed. The noise complaints from neighbors came back, but it didn’t bother you one bit. You were finally happy, having felt that deep bout of loneliness begin to shrink in size. You went back to writing too—having the mental energy to finally do it and write about things that weren’t as depressing. Sometimes you’d read them to him over dinner, or while you were on top of him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Ken says, cupping your cheek while you fucked yourself onto him. “My gorgeous girl.”

His girl. God. It was like he knew all the right to say, knew exactly where to touch you so that you were a shivering mess underneath him. You would never tell him but you caught yourself hopeful for the future, wondering whether or not you would still be with him in five years time. One night, Ken walks in on you getting ready in front of your vanity, all dolled up—hair curled, makeup done and all that.

“Woah,” he says, leaning on your bed frame, mouth open in awe. “Putting on a show for me?”

“No,” you smile at him, “I thought we could go out for dinner. I haven’t been outside except for work and errands in a while.”

You walked over to him and traced your fingers up his arm, smoothing over the creases on his shirt. “Could be fun.”

A flash of panic across his face.

Huh?

“Uhm,” he says, scratching the back of his head and tearing his gaze away from you. “I don’t know.”

This was new. Ken had never been the type to say ‘I don’t know’. He was always sure of what he wanted, what he took—this was something entirely new. What was this? The sudden doubt? The nervousness?

You arched an eyebrow, suspicious over his reaction. He sees this and again, that same flash of panic.

“What?” You ask, your voice stern, borderline annoyed. “Spit it out.”

“No, I’m just,” he trails off, “not in the mood. Let’s just stay in. Please?”

You cross your arms, and huff out. Begging wasn’t going to get him anywhere this time. “No, something’s up. You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I-”

“Look, we could go about this all night, or you could come clean.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We can’t go out,” he says, exhaustion and worry evident in his eyes. “It’s bad for me.”

You feel your heart drop.

“Bad for you?”

“The paparazzi, the press,” he says with a pained look on his face, “they’d tear me to shreds.”

“So like, what? You knew this from the beginning and you were never going to tell me?”

He looks away.

“Ken,” you say, almost pleading, “were you just leading me on?”

No response from him.

“God that’s,” you’re in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes. “That’s cruel. That’s so cruel of you.”

He stares at the ground and says nothing. You sit at your vanity table and slowly begin taking off your accessories, getting un-ready due to the night being ruined. During this almost ritualistic act, a symbol for something ending—a date night, a relationship—you hated what you found yourself thinking about. It was that you would’ve been okay with having to put your career on hold if it meant being with him, you could stand to be his secret, but you couldn’t stand the fact that he knew was going to hurt you and did nothing to warn you about it.

This is why I don’t do one night stands, you thought to yourself, reminiscing about slipping way from his house at dawn and how it should’ve stayed that way. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him when he showed up at your place, you should’ve slammed the door in his face, cussed him out, let Lassie and Strauber at him, tear him to bits and pieces. But you didn’t, and now you’re here.

You look behind your shoulder, Ken sat on the floor looking humiliated and dejected. A part of you ached at the sight, wanted to walk over and comfort him, but he didn’t deserve that. Not after what he did. Why would you comfort the person who caused you so much hurt?

“You should go,” you say, hoping he would put up a fight to stay—show he cared.

“Yeah, I should,” he says, getting up.

Fuck.

prev | next

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: it is with a heavy heart that I’ll announce that the doghouse will be my last kenji fic in a while :”) I’m forever grateful for all the love and support that my kenji fics have gotten. It truly astounds me as to how welcoming the tumblr community has been with me and I am so happy I have gotten to be a part of this :D will this be my last kenji fic? No. I’ve got a few drafts cooking up :) but I will be focusing on other fandoms, namely haikyuu. All in all, I’d like to thank everyone again who liked my works and support me throughout, I’m forever grateful. I’ll see you guys in the epilogue !! <3

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @strayy-kidz @floppy-aura-koi

[tofupixel]

i'm just not sure your argument on art plagiarism really holds up at all, is the thing. at what point does an art style become plagiarism? is it when the art style is directly inspired by a certain other art style, or when the art looks like another art style? because those are two completely seperate things. i know multiple artists, including myself, who are inspired by multiple other artists, yet our works look nothing alike. on another note, two artists can have similar or even identical styles and yet know nothing about each other, so is it plagiarism at that point? are they plagiarizing each other? who is plagiarizing who, the person who had the art style first? at what point is it "original" enough to call it your own without any credit to multiple other people? at what point does a composition become plagiarism?

i feel like you're undermining the ways in which drawing and writing are separate avenues of art, and also misunderstanding what plagiarism in writing even is, as a whole. i would appreciate a more concise explanation as to what your full thoughts on this are, though.

i don't know if you're intentionally misunderstanding my point or if you just didn't read it. look at my replies in the thread to get the full picture.

if we use the most basic definition of plagiarism, none of the pointless examples you gave would fall under it, quite obviously. nobody is talking about that. let's put our thinking caps on here

i'm not talking about two people who have similar styles completely by chance. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism.

i'm not talking about people who are inspired by multiple people and borrow from each of them and make it their own. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism.

i'm not talking about master studies. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism

i gave an example of someone whose work was eerily similar, and they EVEN ADMITTED that they were inspired. they apologized and agreed to do better in the future, but still people were running defense for them. that's what the post is about!

but if your work exists in a grey area, yes some people may raise some eyebrows, it will happen. and it should! people should be allowed to ask when things are a little bit too close, without people saying "ummm well nothing is original anyway"

i'm talking about actual, blatant plagiarism. i don't know why you're playing defense for thieves, but maybe because you feel the call is coming from inside the house? i'll turn off anon and you can reply again and we'll all judge for ourselves.

[zumicho]

home┊002┊004

003: monsters under the bed

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

────────────────────────

[ RINTARO POV ]

“do you think we’re bad people?”

she stumbles into my room, dispatching yellow tinted light to disrupt the peaceful darkness of my sleep. If she were a different person, it would’ve been a problem. It’s unexplainable why I can’t bring myself to treat her the same way I treat everyone else. 

yelling and exaggerated laughter spill in from outside - a sign that my teammates haven't stopped abusing the ‘freeflow sake’ perk we were gifted by reception. I was lucky enough to slip out before it got too crazy; from the looks of it–she wasn’t. 

her head tilts, a supposedly small movement, but it does wonders. she frowns down at me–and for a minute I think it’s my bedhead. 

“..what?” 

“you didn’t answer my question.” oh.

"'bad' is subjective."

and she pouts, amplifying her already apple-red cheeks.

"do you think I'm a bad person?" I ask.

our hands brush together as she leans over the bedframe, conducting a scientific analysis of my nose (it feels like). "yes."

"why--"

"you invited me over, but you only really talked to me at the door. saying hi when you let me in and ignoring me for the rest of the night makes you a terrible host. and a bad person." I would usually laugh at someone this drunk, but no one's ever been this offended that I didn't talk to them. I sit up, guilt stabbing at my side.

"I would try and make it up to you," I squint at the clock above the window. "I can't think of anything other than walking you home though." that earns me a sigh.

"unless you want to sleep over." my mouth has a mind of its own. "there's only one bed in this room." her liquid courage is contagious.

she bites at her bottom lip, and I stare. I'm not ashamed. I'm just being relatable. atsumu would agree. anyone else would do the same. this is normal. not just me.

"no." her hands meet her hip, a failed attempt at being stern. "that would make me a bad person too." she lectures, all the while crawling under the covers and laying her head on the pillow beside mine. aran's going to complain in the morning, but that's a tiny price to pay for this view.

an hour passes, and I think she's asleep, but as I close my eyes, I find out we were both awake. her fingers intertwine with mine as she whispers: "are there monsters under the bed?"

I smile. real & big. "you're baby in a grown woman's body." is all the sarcasm I can manage. looking at me through her eyelashes, all starry-eyed in a I-could-kiss-you-right-here-and-now-but-that-would-absolutely-destroy-the-both-of-us kind of way, she asks, "so you don't believe in monsters?" "I do. but I bet they'd be scared of me," I joke. I swear her grip on my hand tightens, and she's closer than she was. maybe it's just hopeful imagination.

I’ve never been akin to commitment; why is it now that I feel the need to change? 

────────────────────────

ib: @/wipsbymaya on tiktok, it’s embarrassing how much inspiration I get from that app but it birthed this so I guess it’s not so embarassing

author’s note: how we feeling chat

@phoenix-eclipses @thechaosoflonging @yuminako @nbcvs @tenjikusstuff4 @intergalacticrory @sonicsolos @yenonnoff @wyrcan @cnnmairoll @causenessus @reads-stuff-quietly @giocriedpower @applepi25 @gra-eae @lilchubbyyy @thvvluvr @toges-cough-syrup @steiins

[chochuuya]

his muse.

fashion designer mitsuya x reader

disclaimers: slight angst, tension, lots of back and forth.. possessive mitsuya yup yup |･ω･)

word count: 685

“why?” mitsuya asks, not looking up from his sewing machine. “you’re my model. i’m not fighting for your time with another man (y/n).”

he’s always had an obsession with beautiful things. you’re no exception, so you can’t leave him.

all of his designs are catered to you. when he sees you smile, or hears you laugh, he’s already sketching another. he shuts the machine off, looking at you.

“do you not like the clothes i make anymore?” he asks, brows furrowing. because why else would you leave?

you chew your bottom lip as you fidget on your hands. it’s always nerve wracking to talk to mitsuya when he’s tense.

“it’s nothing like that, takashi. trust me, your designs are par to none! it’s just that.. i want to dress more and for others too? i am still your model, yes but i’m just signing up for more houses.”

he frowns.

“my designs are for you and you alone. we established this (y/n).”

you know mitsuya is stubborn, and once he gets an idea into his head, it doesn’t budge easily. he takes his designs seriously and doesn’t like to see his models modelling for other designers. the thought of you modelling for anyone else makes him feel jealous and angry, and he struggles to mask it.

you shake your head in protest.

“takashi. of course you had and have support me enough up to this point, but i just thought i could get more experience if i get myself out there more you know?” you reasoned.

“you don’t need to get more experience, you’re perfect!” he exclaims with eyes pleading.

“my designs are made with you in mind (y/n), and they look best on you! the other designers won’t be able to replicate my work. they’ll probably mess it all up.” mitsuya continues, “you could ruin your reputation modelling for someone else, no one would want your image on their projects anymore!”

he stops, breathless for a few seconds.

“you’re my muse..” he says quietly. “you’re all i’ve got, don’t you see that?”

you sighed in defeat.

“how am i supposed to grow as a model when i’m not getting out of my comfort zone, takashi? i admire you and your talented quality crafts but please, try to understand me!”

he glares at you, anger in his eyes.

“i don’t want you to grow, (y/n)!" he shouts.

“i want you to be mine and only mine. if you can't understand that then- then-" he stops himself before he gets too carried away.

“i understand that you have your own goals and aspirations but i’d rather you keep me in mind too.”

he steps back, breathing rapidly.

“i’m sorry, i- i shouldn’t have yelled.” he pauses, trying to get ahold of his emotions.

“you have other models too, mitsuya..”

“but i want you to be my main model.” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“you’re my best, and i can help you far better than anyone else ever could. you’re my muse and inspiration. i just- i don’t want that to change.” he added.

you thought of what he said so, there was silence for a mere moment before you break the ice.

“there’s something else you’re not telling me. i know you.” you said with your arms crossed.

he narrows his eyes at you, not liking being accused of hiding something.

“and what do you think that is?” mitsuya asks icily. he wants to hear what you think it is, but won’t admit it just yet.

“i don’t know. you tell me.”

mitsuya is silent for a moment, debating over whether or not to let you in on his secret. his eyes scan your face, trying to gauge your trustworthiness. you’d never betrayed his trust before, so why not now?

finally, he speaks, his voice softer.

“i didn’t want to tell you because i knew you’d be upset. but... i’m in love with you (y/n)." mitsuya says quietly, looking at you.

“i’ve been in love with you for years.”

...

maybe hakkai and yuzuha should come by another day.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

ngl that one panel where he fixes takemichi's suit is just *nosebleeds* (＿ ＿*) anyway, i hope you like this one! reblogs & likes are vv appreciated ♡

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗘𝗚𝗚𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗚𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗬

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt uses his loss on the egg challenge as an excuse to reveal Y/N's pregnancy to his brothers.

WARNING: Pregnancy, crying.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I've decided to post it today since it's Father's Day on Brazil! Unfortunately, I had to write it in a rush, so I'm sorry if it's not that good ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt, Nick, and Chris had spent the morning engaged in their latest YouTube challenge; a seemingly simple task of caring for an egg as if it were their own child. What had started as a lighthearted competition quickly turned into something more meaningful, though none of them knew it yet.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head, exuding confidence as he glanced at the table. His egg sat intact in front of him, a proud reminder of his victory. He smirked at Matt, who sat across from him, his egg conspicuously absent, the pieces of it having already been swept into the trash.

"Well, Matt, it looks like you lost." Nick teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. His grin widened, knowing exactly how to get under his brother's skin.

Chris, sitting at the other end of the table, tried to suppress his laughter but failed, the sound escaping as a snort. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Seriously, dude, how did you even have the courage to throw your egg after knowing that it was already cracked?"

But instead of a witty comeback or a defensive retort, Matt remained silent. His usually quick tongue was stilled, and his shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the table in front of him. His brothers’ laughter echoed around the kitchen, but Matt seemed miles away.

From her spot by the kitchen counter, Y/N observed the scene unfold, her smile soft and her eyes filled with affection as she watched the brothers banter. She had always loved these moments, the way they could turn the simplest tasks into something fun and full of life. But today, something was different. Matt wasn’t joining in the laughter, and the silence coming from him made her heart tighten with concern.

Matt’s eyes met Y/N’s across the room, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of curiosity and worry as she noticed the unspoken emotion in his gaze. It wasn’t defeat or frustration over the challenge; it was something deeper, something that made her heart skip a beat. What was he thinking? What was he hiding?

Nick’s voice cut through the tension, snapping Matt out of his thoughts.

"Come on, Matt, admit it. You’re just not cut out for fatherhood." Nick joked, his tone light but teasing.

Chris chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin.

"Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing you’re not a dad yet."

The words, meant in jest, struck Matt like a physical blow. He inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to Y/N once more, and this time, her eyes widened in realization. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, a small, unconscious gesture that Matt had seen her do countless times since they discovered the news. It was a habit she had developed; whenever she felt nervous, excited, or overwhelmed, her hand would rest there, a protective touch that spoke of the new life growing inside her.

Matt took a deep breath, turning his gaze back to his brothers.

"My egg 'broke,' so technically, I lost-" Matt began, his voice quiet, almost detached as he tried to find the right words.

Nick interrupted him, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he imitated Matt’s air quotes.

"'Broke'? Motherfucker, it broke." His voice was full of bewilderment, unsure of why Matt was choosing to word it that way.

But Matt wasn’t paying attention to Nick’s teasing anymore. He pushed back his chair and stood up, the scraping of the legs against the floor breaking the comfortable rhythm of the morning. All eyes were on him as he walked over to the counter, where Y/N stood, her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. He leaned against the counter, positioning himself next to her, his hand brushing against hers in a silent exchange of comfort and support.

Nick and Chris exchanged puzzled glances, the playful atmosphere from moments ago now replaced with a sense of anticipation. Matt was rarely this serious, especially during their videos, and the change in his demeanor left them both on edge.

"What’s going on, Matt?" Chris asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied his brother.

Matt took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He and Y/N had talked about how to break the news to Nick and Chris for days. They had planned it out, imagined different scenarios, and rehearsed how it might go. But now, standing here in the kitchen with the camera still rolling, Matt realized that all those plans didn’t matter. There was no perfect way to tell them; there was only the truth.

"I didn’t lose." Matt said, his voice stronger now, filled with emotion that he could no longer hide. He took a step closer to Y/N, his hand finding hers and squeezing it gently. His eyes never left his brothers as he spoke. "My baby is safe and sound... right in the oven."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the meaning not immediately sinking in for Nick and Chris. They blinked, their expressions mirroring each other’s confusion as they tried to make sense of what Matt had just said.

"The oven?" Nick repeated, glancing around the kitchen. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Chris frowned, his gaze following Nick’s to the actual oven, which was clearly off.

"Matt, what are you-"

But before Chris could finish, Matt shook his head and smiled softly, a smile that held all the love and anticipation he had been carrying for weeks. He gently guided Y/N’s hand to her stomach, the gesture so tender and full of meaning that it spoke louder than any words ever could.

"The oven," Matt repeated, his voice a whisper now, thick with emotion. "Right here."

It was as if time stopped. Nick and Chris froze, their eyes widening in sync as the realization finally hit them. The weight of Matt’s words, the significance of the gesture; it all came crashing down on them at once.

"Wait... are you saying...?" Nick’s voice trailed off, the disbelief evident in every syllable.

Y/N looked up at Matt, her eyes shining with tears that she had been holding back for days. She nodded, her voice trembling with joy and nerves as she finally let the words out, the truth she had been dying to share.

"We’re pregnant." She whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "I’m pregnant."

For a heartbeat, the kitchen was silent. The camera continued to record, capturing every second of the moment that would change their lives forever.

And then, all at once, the emotions erupted.

Chris was the first to react. His eyes filled with tears that spilled over the rims, his face a mix of shock, joy, and overwhelming love. He stood up so abruptly that his chair almost fell, forgotten as he crossed the room in two long strides. Without a word, he pulled Matt and Y/N into a tight embrace, his arms encircling them both as he buried his face in Matt’s shoulder, his body trembling with sobs.

"Oh my God." Chris whispered, his voice cracking with the force of his emotions. "I can’t believe it. You’re going to be a dad, Matt. And Y/N... you’re going to be a mom."

Y/N found herself laughing through her own tears, the sound mixing with her soft sobs as she wrapped her arms around Chris, resting her head against his. She could feel Matt’s warm hand on her back, holding her close, grounding her in the moment.

"We were going to tell you guys differently, but..." Y/N’s voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as she tried to speak. Her lip quivered as she bit down on it, trying to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over.

Nick, who had been frozen in shock, finally seemed to snap out of it. He looked at Matt, then at Y/N, and back to Matt again, as if needing to confirm that this was real. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, but then, slowly, a wide, joyous grin spread across his face.

"Holy shit!" Nick exclaimed, his voice full of excitement as he jumped up from his chair, his movements so sudden that it clattered to the floor. He didn’t care. All he could focus on was the fact that his brother was going to be a father. That they were going to be uncles.

Nick rushed over to join the group hug, wrapping his arms around the three of them and squeezing as hard as he could, his voice cracking with the intensity of his emotions.

"This is insane! I can’t believe we’re going to be uncles. Oh my God, Chris, we’re going to be uncles!"

Chris pulled back just enough to look at Nick, their faces mirroring the same shock and joy.

"Yes, you are." Y/N whispered, her voice filled with warmth and love. "You and Chris are going to be the best uncles in the world."

Matt couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He let them fall freely as he wrapped his arms around his brothers, holding them tight, feeling a surge of love and gratitude that left him breathless. This wasn’t the way they had planned it, but it felt right. It felt perfect. He could feel Chris’s shoulders shaking as he cried, and when he finally pulled back to look at his brothers, he saw the same tears in Nick’s eyes.

Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a huge, teary grin spreading across his face.

"You sneaky bastards." He said, his voice still thick with his crying. "You kept this from us!"

"We wanted to surprise you." Matt said, finally finding her voice again, though it was still shaky with laughter and tears. "But I just couldn’t wait."

Nick looked at him, his grin turning mischievous.

"So, technically, you didn’t lose the challenge, huh?"

Matt chuckled, shrugging as he looked at the Y/N glued to his side.

"Nope, I didn’t lose. I think I actually won something even better."

Chris wiped at his eyes again, sniffling as he looked at Y/N, his expression soft and full of love.

"You two are going to be amazing parents. This little one is so lucky to have you."

Y/N reached out and took Chris’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she smiled through her tears.

"Thank you, Chris. That means the world to us."

Nick clapped his hands together, the grin never leaving his face.

"Well, I guess this calls for a celebration, huh? Let’s order some food and make this the best day ever."

They all agreed, the room filling with the sound of their joy, and as they gathered around the kitchen table, Matt couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He looked at Y/N, who was beaming at him, her eyes still sparkling with tears, and ge couldn’t help but think that this was the best video they’d ever made; not because of the challenge, but because it captured a moment that would change their lives forever.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments

"this has to be the best twist ever 😭😭 I was NOT expecting Matt to drop that bombshell at ALLLL"

"omg, they're going to be such amazing parents 🥺"

"chris’s reaction had me in TEARS!!! the way he just broke down crying when he realized he’s going to be an uncle… this is why I love them so much, they're so genuine 😞"

"nick’s face when he finally understood what matt meant by ‘the oven’ LMAOOO"

"FUCK NO, I was laughing so hard during the egg challenge, and then I ended up crying when matt revealed Y/N is pregnant 🤧"

"matt is going to be the greatest dad out there, I just know it 🙏🏻"

"who cares about a fucking broken egg when you’ve got a real baby on the way 😩"

"when matt said the baby was in the oven, I thought he was joking about the egg, I did NOT see that coming 🤡"

"please guys, let me in the group hug 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @earth2starkey @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo @blahbel668 @sarosfilms @moncherriis @tobesolonelyjess @zainabthescientist @littlemisswhore

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[sunderwight]

y'know what, I think it's kind of interesting to bring up Data from Star Trek in the context of the current debates about AI. like especially if you actually are familiar with the subplot about Data investigating art and creativity.

see, Data can definitely do what the AI programs going around these days can. better than, but that's beside the point, obviously. he's a sci-fi/fantasy android. but anyway, in the story, Data can perfectly replicate any painting or stitch a beautiful quilt or write a poem. he can write programs for himself that introduce variables that make things more "flawed", that imitate the particular style of an artist, he can choose to either perfectly replicate a particular sort of music or to try and create a more "human" sounding imitation that has irregular errors and mimics effort or strain. the latter is harder for him that just copying, the same way it's more complicated to have an algorithm that creates believable "original" art vs something that just duplicates whatever you give it.

but this is not the issue with Data. when Data imitates art, he himself knows that he's not really creating, he's just using his computer brain to copy things that humans have done. it's actually a source of deep personal introspection for the character, that he believes being able to create art would bring him closer to humanity, but he's not sure if he actually can.

of course, Data is a person. he's a person who is not biological, but he's still a person, and this is really obvious from go. there's no one thing that can be pointed to as the smoking gun for Data's personhood, but that's normal and also true of everyone else. Data's the culmination of a multitude of elements required to make a guy. Asking if this or that one thing is what makes Data a person is like asking if it's the flour or the eggs that make a cake.

the question of whether or not Data can create art is intrinsically tied to the question of whether or not Data can qualify as an artist. can he, like a human, take on inspiration and cultivate desirable influences in order to produce something that reflects his view on the world?

yes, he can. because he has a view on the world.

but that's the thing about the generative AI we are dealing with in the real world. that's not like Data. despite being referred to as "AI", these are algorithms that have been trained to recognize and imitate patterns. they have no perspective. the people who DO have a perspective, the humans inputting prompts, are trying to circumvent the whole part of the artistic process where they actually develop skills and create things themselves. they're not doing what Data did, in fact they're doing the opposite -- instead of exploring their own ability to create art despite their personal limitations, they are abandoning it. the data sets aren't like someone looking at a painting and taking inspiration from it, because the machine can't be inspired and the prompter isn't filtering inspiration through the necessary medium of their perspective.

Data would be very confused as to the motives and desires involved, especially since most people are not inhibited from developing at least SOME sort of artistic skill for the sake self-expression. he'd probably start researching the history of plagiarism and different cultural, historical, and legal standards for differentiating it from acceptable levels of artistic imitation, and how the use of various tools factored into it. he would cite examples of cultures where computer programming itself was considered a form of art, and court cases where rulings were made for or against examples of generative plagiarism, and cases of forgeries and imitations which required skill as good if not better than the artists who created the originals. then Geordi would suggest that maybe Data was a little bit annoyed that people who could make art in a way he can't would discount that ability. Data would be like "as a machine I do not experience annoyance" but he would allow that he was perplexed or struggling to gain internal consensus on the matter. so Geordi would sum it up with "sometimes people want to make things easy, and they aren't always good at recognizing when doing that defeats the whole idea" and Data would quirk his head thoughtfully and agree.

then they'd get back to modifying the warp core so they could escape some sentient space anomaly that had sucked the ship into intermediate space and was slowly destabilizing the hull, or whatever.

anyways, point is -- I don't think Data from Star Trek would be a big fan of AI art.