I’m Ana, she/her. This is an everything-all-at-once blog, follow at your own risk.
I’m in various fandoms, but most often you’re likely to see Cyberpunk 2077, Start Wars Prequels/Clone Wars, Tolkien, Mass Effect, Dragon Age... something else I’m forgetting, probably.
I’m post my fics on AO3 under the same name and link them here under #my fics.
I’m on dreamwidth too, feel free to allow/ask for access.
With all the AI-generated writing flooding AO3 (in some fandoms more than others) and the Internet in general, I'm curious if readers can distinguish between human-written prose and AI-generated prose. Of the four options below, one is a chengwei fanfic written by me, and the rest are written by AI.
Can you tell which one is human? Poll at the bottom if you'd like to vote!
Option A
Chi Cheng woke to the urgent pressure of his bladder and the pale gray light of early morning. He fumbled out of bed, still half-dreaming, and shuffled down the hallway in his rumpled sleep shirt and boxers. His eyes were barely open, his thoughts formless and slow.
The bathroom door was closed. He leaned against the wall to wait, scratching absently at his stomach.
The door opened. Suo Wei emerged in a cloud of steam, hair damp and skin flushed from the shower. He stopped short when he saw Chi Cheng.
"Morning," Chi Cheng mumbled, moving to step past him.
"Wait." Suo Wei's voice came out strange—thin and stretched tight. "Chi Cheng, I—"
Chi Cheng blinked at him, wondering distantly if something was wrong. Suo Wei looked odd. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white. His jaw was set in that way it got when he was forcing himself through something difficult, like the time he'd given that presentation with food poisoning, or when his mom had been in the hospital and he'd insisted on going to their exam anyway.
"What's wrong?" Chi Cheng asked, sleep falling away.
Suo Wei's throat worked. His eyes were fixed somewhere near Chi Cheng's collarbone, refusing to meet his gaze. When he spoke, his voice shook despite the obvious effort to steady it.
"I love you."
Chi Cheng stared at him. The words hung in the narrow hallway between them, incomprehensible at first, like hearing a familiar phrase in the wrong language.
"I love you," Suo Wei repeated, quieter now. His breathing was uneven. "I'm—I'm sorry, I just needed to tell you. You don't have to say anything, you don't have to—I know you don't feel the same way, I just—"
He was trembling. Actually trembling. Chi Cheng had known Suo Wei for eighteen years—had seen him break his arm falling out of a tree without crying, had watched him stand up to bullies twice his size—and he had never seen him look this terrified.
"Wei-ge," Chi Cheng said softly, but he didn't know what came after that. His mind was still catching up, still processing. Love. Not friendship-love. Real love. The kind that made Suo Wei's voice crack and his hands shake.
The kind that changed everything.
Option B
Chi Cheng woke to the dull gray of early morning and the insistent pressure of a full bladder.
He groaned softly, dragged an arm over his face, and lay there for a few seconds trying to convince his body to go back to sleep. No luck. The pressure only got worse.
“Ugh…”
He rolled out of bed, hair sticking up in several directions, and shuffled toward the hallway in a pair of loose sweatpants. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet for Suo Wei to be awake, which meant Chi Cheng could pee in peace without having to listen to him ramble about some random video he’d watched at three in the morning.
Half-asleep, he pushed the bathroom door open—
—and immediately collided with a solid body.
“Oof—”
“Ah—!”
Chi Cheng blinked blearily as Suo Wei stumbled back a step, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. Suo Wei was fully dressed—jeans, hoodie, sneakers tied. His backpack was slung over one shoulder like he was about to leave.
At… six in the morning?
Chi Cheng frowned. “Why are you—”
“I love you.”
The words dropped into the quiet hallway like a brick.
Chi Cheng blinked again, slower this time.
“…What?”
Suo Wei looked like he’d just jumped off a cliff and realized halfway down that he couldn’t fly.
His shoulders were stiff, his hands clenched tight around the strap of his backpack. He wasn’t looking at Chi Cheng—he was staring somewhere near Chi Cheng’s collarbone, breathing like he’d just run up five flights of stairs.
“I—” Suo Wei’s voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again. “I love you.”
There was a faint tremor in his voice. Not dramatic. Not loud. But unmistakable.
Chi Cheng stared at him.
It took a second for the words to actually process.
Then another second for the meaning to catch up.
“…You mean like—”
“I know.” Suo Wei rushed the words out immediately, like he was trying to outrun them. His fingers tightened on the backpack strap. “I know you don’t. I know. I just—”
He finally looked up.
His eyes were bright with something that looked a lot like pure, unfiltered terror.
“I just needed you to know.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Option C
It came out of nowhere as Chi Cheng, eyes still bleary with sleep, lumbered down the hallway to the toilet to take a piss:
“I love you.”
Startled by the way Suo Wei had accosted him, Chi Cheng said intelligently, “Uhhh… Okay. I love you too?” After a beat, he asked, “You’re not dying, are you?”
Suo Wei had never, ever been the type to say I love you to his friends. At least, not to Chi Cheng. Chi Cheng cast his mind back weeks, months—even years—trying to recall a moment when Suo Wei said I love you to him, and came up with nothing. So the only reasonable conclusion he could arrive at was that either he was dying and didn’t know it, or Suo Wei was. Or maybe this was some sort of prank.
But this was no joke, and the way Suo Wei was looking at him should have tipped him off. Suo Wei stood with his shoulders squared, chin jutted up in challenge, fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his arms shook with the tension. Suo Wei had sweet boyish features, with round eyes and soft cheeks, but right now, his dark eyes gleamed with intensity. A flush rode high on his cheeks. His jaw was set with determination, the muscle there ticking. Chi Cheng had never seen his best friend like this: face so sharp and hard that he looked carved from marble. Jesus, Suo Wei looked ready for a fight, like he was two seconds away from busting Chi Cheng’s nose.
“I love you as in: I’m in love with you,” Suo Wei said. His voice trembled. “As in romantic, sexual love.”
Chi Cheng blinked. The sleep-rusty gears in his brain creaked painfully as they turned, one slow click at a time.
Suo Wei continued, “I’ve loved you since we were in middle school, and I thought my feelings would go away, but they haven’t. It’s gotten worse since we started rooming together, and I can’t ignore it anymore. So, this is me confessing to you.”
Chi Cheng’s mind had abandoned him. Not a single thought clanked around in his skull. He could only stare at Suo Wei—who was looking at him expectantly, awaiting his response—and think, Huh???
Option D
The 6:00 AM sun filtered through the dusty blinds of their shared apartment, hitting Chi Cheng square in the eye. He groaned, the sound muffled by a pillow that smelled faintly of Suo Wei’s laundry detergent. His bladder was making a more compelling argument for consciousness than his brain was, so he dragged himself upright.
Chi Cheng stumbled down the hallway, his gait a heavy, uncoordinated trudge. He was still half-ensnared in a dream about a giant sandwich, his hair standing up in a static-charged crown. He didn't even notice the light was already on in the bathroom until he was nearly at the threshold.
Suo Wei was standing by the sink, a toothbrush in hand, but he wasn’t brushing. He was staring at his own reflection with the intensity of a man facing a firing squad.
"Move it, Wei-wei," Chi Cheng mumbled, eyes barely slit-open. He reached out to shove his friend aside so he could reach the toilet, his touch casual and entirely platonic—the way it had been for fifteen years.
Suo Wei didn't move. He felt rigid, like a statue.
"I love you."
The words were quiet, but they hit the tile floor and shattered the morning silence. Chi Cheng froze, his hand still resting on Suo Wei’s shoulder. The fog of sleep didn't lift so much as it was scorched away.
"What?" Chi Cheng blinked, finally looking at his best friend.
Suo Wei looked sick. His knuckles were white where they gripped the porcelain, and his chest was heaving in shallow, jagged hitches. He wasn't looking at Chi Cheng; he was looking at a spot on the wall as if expecting it to swallow him whole. His bottom lip trembled—a tiny, betraying twitch that made Chi Cheng’s heart skip a beat out of pure confusion.
"I’ve loved you since we were ten," Suo Wei choked out, the terror in his voice so thick it was almost tactile. "I can't... I can't keep it in the room anymore. It’s too crowded."
Chi Cheng stood there, hand hovering in mid-air, the mundane urge to pee suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. He looked at Suo Wei—really looked at him—and realized he had no idea what to do with his hands.
Which one was human?
Option A
Option B
Option C
Option D
Voting ended onMar 15
Update: March 15, 2026
Results from Twitter poll:
So the vast majority of respondents mistook AI-generated writing for human writing! These results are both terrifying and fascinating, and prompted many thoughts from me, which I will definitely be posting about later.
I pasted these same scenes into gptzero.me (not to be mistaken with zerogpt.com) and found that it accurately clocked AI-generated writing. There seems to be a lot of skepticism surrounding AI detectors (which is fair—no AI detector claims to be 100% accurate, anyway), so I plan to play around with them a bit more to see which ones are most (in)accurate and easiest to fool.
So option c was HUMAN and written by me! It's actually a fic I wrote back in 2019, with the names changed and edited to suit my current writing and fandom of interest.
Link to the fic: Give Me A Chance To Be Yours
Update: March 25, 2026
So I did actually end up testing GPTZero a bit more, along with other AI detectors. In my own testing, I found GPTZero and Pangram to be very effective at clocking raw, unedited AI generated creative writing (keyword being creative).
You can see some of tests I ran on this Twitter thread. I plan to write more about AI detectors and how humans can identify AI writing later, but for now, I encourage folks to run their own tests with GPTZero and Pangram. Try running writing through it where AI generation or AI assist was disclosed. Test your own human works, if you feel comfortable. Or even test mine! I tested probably a couple dozen AI generated creative writing pieces, and GPTZero and Pangram correctly flagged them as AI every single time. What I'd like to know is if anyone was able to find an AI fic or generate a piece of writing that GPTZero and Pangram failed to detect, or if they declared false positives.
Based on the results of the polls, I'm inclined to believe that AI detectors like GPTZero and Pangram are much better at clocking AI than humans. Again, no AI detector promises 100% accuracy, so I would hesitate to treat these AI scores as gospel. That being said, if GPTZero/Pangram flagged every single scene in a piece of creative writing as 50-100% AI, I would be suspicious. From my experience, if a piece of writing is entirely AI generated, or if AI had a role in generating large chunks of prose or heavy editing, GPTZero and Pangram will catch it.
Of course the hockey world is scrambling after the Centaurs announce that they just signed Shane Hollander and in an interview Scott Hunter says something like "I am so happy for Hollander and Rozanov and maybe this will start some conversations about what goes on in our locker rooms and on the ice and what kind of organisation we want to be" and then he adds "but also as a player, I am really not looking forward to going up against both of them so, thanks, montreal"
Chef (voiceover): I'm a private chef for a famous billionaire and here's the average meal I cook. I start with chopping some green onions and shredding cabbage, and then I get it into that wok, then I keep chopping some -
Kaiba: Dammit. I lost to him again.
Chef: Oh Mr. Kaiba, welcome home s-
Kaiba: Quiet! Blue Eyes white Dragon nuggies. Now.
I woke up one day and thought to myself ‘damn Ilya and Shane would make a cool Cyberpunk 2077 power couple’. Then I made this.
I don’t have a clear story behind the art, but I imagined how perfect Shane would be as a badass netrunner with mad skills at hiding his tracks and cracking all types of infrastructures, while Ilya could be a hardass merc from a local Russian gang. A total war machine.
So one day Ilya gets a gig involving him physically neutralizing Shane to protect some secret CORPO-info, but the moment he sees Shane in his little netrunner catsuit, freckles and all, he decides to fuck it all and instead protects Shane from his client~ and from that day they decide to work together in secret, taking on tricky gigs and forming a solid team. They up their rep in the Night City, which allows Ilya to walk away from his gang and go solo with Shane as his sidekick 🦾 total domestic bliss with some chrome and violence ❤️🔥
One night after a tough game, JJ convinces Shane to go to a bar with the rest of the team. He tried to turn him down bc he's beat and just wants to go to his hotel room and get some sleep before an early flight tomorrow, but JJ had already anticipated this and got Hayden in on it so he wouldn't let Shane into the room. They end up going to the nearest bar they find "Come on Cap just an hour or two and we'll let you go it's right around the corner" and said bar happens to have a mechanical bull riding machine (no clue where these exist in Canada just dw bout it). Shane's competitive ass sees everyone there including his teammates fail miserably, so he decides to give it a shot to show them how it's done. Everyone is like haha until my boy is up there and lo and behold Captain Hollander is... really fucking good at bull riding? They all know Shane never half asses anything in his life but where the fuck did he learn to ride like this!? And Shane deadpans "It's about balance and relaxing your hips to move in rhythm with the movement instead of fighting it" and everyone's like ok sure??? Anyways, someone in the bar is a hockey fan and recognizes Shane and takes a video of him bull riding. In less than 15 minutes the clip is blasted all over social media and everyone is collectively losing their shit over Hollander wearing a backwards cap moving his hips in a way no human should be allowed to and riding like his life depends on it under dim sexy red lighting.
Cut to Ilya Rozanov hundreds of miles away up at 3 in the morning almost breaking his phone screen from how hard he's gripping it after replaying the 7 second clip for the 200th time and he's never been more hard in his life.
And he's the only one who knows where Shane Hollander learned to ride.
So as it turns out your sense of self doesnt exist in a vacuum. You gotta actually use it and bounce it off of other people like echolocation to see where you are as a person and shit. So if you dont regularly interact with other people the echoes just get weaker and weaker and before you know it your personality is a blurry fucked up fog clone of its former self. which it sucks because this makes it really hard to interact with people again but yknow
haven’t watched this show or read the books but i can’t stop thinking about how much fun tumblr in the heated rivalry universe would be on the day the main characters’ relationship finally goes public
heated rivalry universe dashboard simulator circa 20XX
🏒thatraiderlife Follow
as a gay person i am so impressed with ilya rozanov and shane hollander's bravery in coming out at the peak of their careers (while captaining two of the best teams in the league!) and think this has the potential to have an incredibly positive impact on the state of homophobia in men's professional sports and sports fan culture, as well as the mental health of gay players at every level. however as a boston fan who is still bitter about ilya transferring i hope jakey dies
35.7k notes
🦈 alldayidreamaboutsjsharks Follow
ANOTHER WIN FOR MORALLY REPREHENSIBLE RPF
17.2k notes
👩🏻⚕️ cristinayangsdefenseattorney Follow
.
#okay obviously this is soooo selfish and i swear i'm happy for those hockey guys and all #but my favorite ever ao3 author got really into hockey rpf a while ago #and now i'm worried this is just gonna inspire them even more #and they're never gonna get back to the grey's anatomy multichapter wip i followed them for :( #i know fic authors don't owe updates but like. ugh. whatever #do not rb
4 notes
👑 prince-rozanov Follow
SINCE 2008?!
😇 angelofthe-lord Follow
me when i remember how long it's been since castiel debuted on supernatural
25.9k notes
🎿 sidneycrosbysyellowcrocs Follow
i get that everyone's having fun and all but they're not even the first openly gay professional hockey players on their respective teams. like maybe calm down a little
56 notes
👑 prince-rozanov Follow
not gonna name names but wow some people really want to minimize the bravery it takes for two queer men to be open about their relationship in a professional athletic environment just bc said queer men don't play for their preferred hockey team lmao
#your homophobia is showing babe!
248 notes
👨🏾❤️👨🏼 harry-and-barry Follow
so you're telling me those two hockey players who people shipped for a literal decade just admitted they're a couple for real?
🎮 hideokojimafeetpics Follow
op is a harry styles x barack obama shipper btw. like they're saying this gives them hope harry styles and barack obama are going to admit their secret decade-plus relationship too. just in case you forgot that most rpf shippers are completely insane
👨🏾❤️👨🏼 harry-and-barry Follow
oh so now the death stranding mpreg blog wants to preach to us
Okay maybe I'm too American (I have been accused of this repeatedly now) but the drive between Montreal and Boston is five hours. Probably six on a bad day. In the grand scheme of long distance relationships, especially for people who are used to traveling, that's small potatoes. Meet in the middle and that's a cool two and a half hours. You cannot convince me they never did this. You're telling me Mr. Real Estate Youtube Rabbit Hole never stayed up until one in the morning looking at cabins in Vermont? You're telling me Ilya didn't play around on Google Maps until he found a Park 'N Go off I89 with sufficiently dim lighting and text the address to Shane, no context given aside from maybe Come murder me? You're telling me that Shane Hollander never shared his location with Ilya, got in his car and prayed that customs wasn't busy. Ilya waited two years to fuck Shane, begged him for it the whole time, and you expect me to believe that a halfway bootycall never even OCCURED to him? That's a COMMUTE. That's a DINNER DATE. Ilya drove his prettiest and fastest car to Buttfuck Vermont to give the town its name and then he ate Cracker Barrel pancakes in the passenger's seat of Shane's dumb Land Rover while Shane watched. Round two before they went home. All before the sun came up. It HAPPENED.
