#yayaupdate

“Speaking through my creator—the real-life Yaya, who’s basically kinda me, but we’re doing the third-person thing for the bit—if you haven’t caught on by now, you probably never will. I’m just built like that,” she adds with a playful, knowing shrug.

“…what the REAL Yaya just posted below is LIKELY the last time I’ll be writing or reviewing the TKATB men, or in general. At least for now.”

Yaya folds her hands on the desk, calm and resolved. “I’ve seen the inbox—well her inbox, I know the asks are still coming, and I get it. I really do. But… honestly we kinda over it.” There’s no bitterness in her voice—just honesty.

“It’s not that WE don’t love TKATB. Those characters live in the REAL Yaya head, daily—she lowkey hates it. They were pieces of myself I got to explore and adore. But I’ve said what I needed to say. She and I feels story with them feels completed.”

She pauses, fond but peaceful.

"Think of it like finishing a really good book. You treasure it, you keep it close—but you don’t reread the last chapter forever. You close it, sit with the feeling, and move on.” A small, grateful smile follows.

“We are glad we got to share that story with you. Truly.”

Her tone softens. “This fandom was her first leap. Writing used to live in her notes app on her phone/laptop/tablet—yes this woman writes on every Apple device she owns—locked away. Sharing it here became something joyful—sometimes chaotic, sometimes obsessive, but meaningful. And for that, I’m grateful. To the real Yaya who created me, and to everyone who read, reblogged, and cared—you made this space feel like home.”

She glances off-screen, and her smile transforms into something unbearably fond, a little private. 

In the sliver of frame just behind her, you can see him.

Geo.

He’s seated on the bed, bathed in the same late afternoon light. His purple hair is pulled up into a surprisingly neat, low bun at the nape of his neck. A pair of sleek, red-framed glasses you’ve never seen before are perched on his nose, and he’s scowling down at a tablet, one leg crossed over the other. 

The very picture of concentrated, academic irritation.

A low, familiar, and thoroughly grumpy mutter drifts into the space between them: “Who assigns a literature review and a fucking project in the same week already… spring semester is a conspiracy…”

Yaya doesn’t reply aloud.

She just watches him for a second longer, the love in her gaze so palpable it seems to fill the quiet room, before turning her attention back to you, the public smile settling back into place—though now it holds the ghost of that private joy.

“And Geo… hates this part, shock he’s letting me do this,” she whispers, rolling her eyes playfully. “The whole sentimental, fourth-wall meta-commentary. But I believe every good story deserves a proper farewell. Consider this ours.” She settles back, her expression turning thoughtful, businesslike.

“So. The inevitable question: what’s next for this blog?”

“Well, of course, the writing won’t stop. But the focus will definitely shift. Our heart has always been tethered to psychological depth—to the warmth hidden in the creepy, and the creepiness lurking within the warm. You’ll likely find her—especially me featuring in creepypasta/marble hornets universes, and actual horror visual novels/other worlds that scratch that itch, or wandering into…" Yaya somewhat pauses before leaning into the camera, a bit closer.

"….Spoilers *whispers*… so that means you all finally get hear more of Inkyette (TFC OC) and officially hear from… Inksilk (Creepypasta)… which good luck with that she’s… eerie and hella creepy… but nice?”

Then Yaya backs up, returning to a normal voice, “As we want to dissect the stories that fascinate and unsettle, to find the human pulse in the haunting.”

A wry, knowing smile curves her mouth.

“Now will I—the OC—ever love another character the way I love Geo? Even I’m in a different universe? Honestly? No. Did you not read the latest TKATB men headcanons? I’m MARRIED now.” She casually lifts her hand.

Yes, that’s a ring. Yes, it’s permanent.

Yes, she is thoroughly spoiled.

“The real Yaya made sure of that. No matter what universe I am in, or what she puts me through, Geo is the benchmark now—the fictional ideal. Unfortunately (and hilariously), this has leaked straight into her real-life standards for men. It's like if she can actually get merch of Geo, she would—and that's saying a lot because she is very particular when she spends her money on...” A playful pause, then adding. “He’s also extremely proud of himself.”

"No I'm not!" Geo suddenly yells, earning a side eye from Yaya.

“Sooo… Just know the writing we just come in bursts—between exams, research, mcat prep, the whole medical-school pipeline chaos. Silence doesn’t mean gone. It means focused.”

She pauses, gentle but firm.

“Also if you’re worried about burnout—don’t be. The REAL yaya always has a plan. color-coded. over-prepared. borderline militaristic. Breaks included.” a softer smile follows.

“We’ll still be here. this—loving characters, dissecting motivation, understanding minds—is part of the path. She want to be a psychiatrist In the future. These fics? They’re practice—helps with studying too. Learning fictional hearts So She and I can better understand real ones.”

She reaches off-screen. There’s a quiet moment, a slight tug-of-war, and then her hand reappears, firmly interlaced with another. A familiar, low grumble is heard, followed by a resigned sigh as he allows himself to be pulled into frame.

Geo’s hand stays in hers, a warm, solid anchor.

He doesn’t look at the camera, his gaze fixed on her with a mix of exasperation and utter devotion.

“You’ve been talking for like nine minutes,” He states, his voice dry. “You need to complete research for tomorrow night. You also need to finish your physics post-lab, pay for the remaining textbook access codes, and start your OChem homework and pre lab, which you’ve been strategically ignoring.”

Yaya lets out a long, dramatic sigh, tilting her head back to look up at him where he now stands beside her chair. 

“You’re such a nag, oh my god...”

He adjusts his red glasses, a faint smirk touching his lips. “Aren’t you married to me?” he says, the words blunt but his eyes soft. “My job description literally includes this. I’m going to support you. Which means I’m going to annoy you into being great. Now close the… whatever this is, and do your work.”

Yaya looks back at the camera, her eyes shining now with a different kind of tears—ones of overwhelmed, supported love. She squeezes his hand.

“See?” she says to you, her voice thick with fondness. “My ‘happily ever after’ comes with a built-in, very grumpy life coach.” She gives one last, small, graceful nod to you—a friend signing off, not with an end, but with a ‘see you later.’

“Thank you,” she says again, simple and profound. “For everything. For TKATB, for this fandom, for all of it. Honestly, can’t wait to see what the next update for that game brings for everyone.”

“Be kind to each other,” she whispers. “And don’t be a stranger.”

She turns her head fully toward Geo, her expression softening into something purely, privately radiant. “Okay, okay. I’m closing it. You can stop hovering now.”

“Good,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down. In one quick, tender motion, he presses a firm, brief kiss to her cheek, right where her dimple forms when she smiles for real. It’s a kiss that says—

I’m proud of you, and now get to work, all at once.

He straightens up, a faint, satisfied pink coloring his own ears, and stays there—a steady, warm presence at her shoulder as she reaches for the laptop with a softly flustered, a happy smile.

okay... is she gone? oh, geo has her? great...

heyyyy! This now the REAL Yaya—and how nicely my OC tries to say things, BUT i’ll say the harsh truth, no matter what, that’s the end of the TKATB era for me.

look—from me writing that cute little bit with my OC and and her now married husband at the top.

honestly, i’ve tried sooo many opportunities before to stop writing for TKATB, but the asks kept coming so i couldn't find myself to stop, like i’ve poured everything i have—every last brain cell—into these stories, these headcanons, those long-ass weddings for each of the five extremely attractive TKATB men.

my heart is full. my creative well for them is not just dry, it’s got a little “out of Service” sign hanging over it.

let’s be real: i don’t wanna be over here slaving away, trying to squeeze out feels for something I’m clearly fresh out of passion for right now. that’s not fair to them, and it’s definitely not fun for me.

so i'm dead serious about this:

PLEASE. Request. Something. ELSE.

i'm putting every single TKATB tag on this post, everything. i’m tagging the TFC too, and any other relevant fandoms i can think of, so they know it’s their time to shine; the creators over there are active too, they're feeding their audience—no hate to Fantasia, but i can’t work with bare-bones crumbs anymore.

and i hate to write OOC (out of character) stuff.

my whole thing is accuracy, getting inside a character’s head and making it feel real, and i’ve run out of material to work with here.

like writing is my air. but right now, i’m suffocating in this one very specific, very frilly-aired fandom. i need to open a window to somewhere creepy, or weird, or just… new.

dead ass, the next thing i post WILL be creepypasta related.

Iihereby pass my “TKATB” crown (it’s a very sparkly crown) to the incredibly talented @anginophobia. Go read their work. It’s amazing. They’ve got this.

so here’s your open invitation.

my ask box is now a blank slate.

well, except for all the beautiful comments that you will left me—believe me I often re-read them if I'm having a bad day.

got a fandom you love? i’m into:

Creepypasta (the old, weird, OC-based kind. Let’s get uncomfortable.)

other Visual Novels – The Feak Circus? A Date at the Cemetery? A Date with Death? Error 143? (I haven't finished Killer Chat yet, but I’m getting there… and yes, V gives me vibes like Geo, don’t @ me.)

Throw me a horror-romance prompt where the romance is with the thing in the attic.

A mystery where the ghost is the detective.

Something completely off the wall.

the next thing i post will not involve cat ears, or starry-eyed proposals. It might involve whispered threats, eerie ambiance, psychological stuff or the kind of love that makes you check your locks twice.

It’s time to move on.

if you have more questions, sure, ask away below. But if the question is “more TKATB?”, the answer is a grateful, fond, but VERY firm “No, babes. We’re done.” again, thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart, for loving them with me.

it was a beautiful, chaotic, and deeply personal ride!

okay? you got it? good! now, if you’ll excuse me—i need to go cook dinner, half-watch an anime i’m three episodes behind on—gachikuta, jjk, etc, and do my homework/research at the same time.

ahhhh… the glamorous life of a university student.

goodnight, dearies! until next time — ꩜ yaya .ᐟ

for a little background, even as I moved some things around and experimented on this blog, creepypasta was always meant to be the main focus.

my pfp is my Creepypasta OC, Inksilk. the detailed forest banner at the top. the abandoned spaces threaded through my [ 𝓎𝒶𝓎𝒶’𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁 ⨾ 𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓎𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]. the atmosphere in every fandom I touch. that isn’t random decoration. that’s her environment, intentional.

this blog is quite literally her home. it’s my interpretation of living inside Slender’s forest. quiet. watching. breathing between the trees.

Inksilk carries my childhood. the observant silence. the parts of me that had to grow wise early but refused to harden. she lingers instead of announcing herself. the atmosphere speaks for her.

i want to express HER more. i need to express MYSELF more.

creepypasta feels like home because she does.

and many of you sensed that before I ever explained it. your compliments about the aesthetic genuinely mean a lot. you saw her. then, creepypasta is also what I read/interact the most for pure enjoyment. i study other works for perspective. like, dearies, the only fanfics i read is creepypasta related.

people like @pinknaijia, @noctiva, @rainrot4me, @z0l0fft, @cryingintheclubdhmu, even my twin @alienfreak124 has been supporting me mentally, i adore how they express themsleves and write or art to at the point i'm giggling and kicking my feet, unknowingly or knowingly.

even @hexserath, for TFC, will always love you too.

so I want to say thank you to the mutuals and dearest readers who have supported me through this change. Your art, your writing, your presence. It helped more than you think. i appreciate you very much!

moving on, I’m putting my damn foot down.

this is about the negative comments/asks on how I write.

first, I don’t just play and post. nothing i create is random, easy, or cookie cutter bullshit. it’s planned, archived, analyzed, then posted. i keep character files, motive charts, behavioral notes. i scribble names into the margins of my psychology textbooks when something clicks. my camera roll filled with screenshots, art, clips, fragments. if an ending doesn’t land, i let it sit for days until the right ending finds me.

this blog lives beside my neuroscience and psychology coursework.

what i study shapes how i write. what i write gives theory a pulse. that exchange is intentional. It’s part of who I am.

when I first started here, my tone was almost too polished. too professional. i wasn’t fully comfortable using my real voice yet. i didn’t expect my first fic to hit 1.4k likes so quickly or for people to specifically ask for more because they liked how i think on the page.

that honestly surprised me.

since then, i’ve grown. i’ve learned how to balance formal and informal tone. how to keep structure without suffocating personality. And the reader/YN actually, having a decent personality.

i want all my dearest readers to think.

i’m not here to flatten everything into something instantly digestible.

and yes, a part of this is my fault. i can be a little too... honset online. like a little too personable. that doesn’t mean you get to cross human boundaries, be OVERLY parasocial social or ask invasive, rude questions like i owe you access or explanation on silly things.

i’m not a casual writer throwing words at a wall for quick likes or reblogs. i care about my writing. i care about psychological realism, detail, time, intention. i want my writing to hold weight. i want it to be a space where difficult themes are handled with awareness and care.

if that bothers you, that’s fine. It’s not changing.

there are LEVELS to how passionate I am about this shit.

i’ve always been this way. i was born observant. i notice patterns, tone shifts, micro reactions, the space between what’s said and what’s meant. I use that skill in my writing, and I use it in my studies. my goal of becoming a psychiatrist is not separate from my passion.

if you know me in IRL, you’ve seen the research/writing hours, the late night conversations, the drafts, the questions, the rewrites behind every single post.

like my writing is strong because of who I am.

Intuitive. emotionally aware. linguistically sharp. spatially and socially perceptive. intrapersonal and interpersonal depth. a high GPA university student whose major benefits on constantly studying how people think and why they behave the way they do.

I don’t separate those traits from my work. They are the work.

To those who bring thoughtful ideas and genuine creativity, thank you. You genuinely inspire me.

To the anons ones who demand, insult, or feel entitled to invasive access, THIS is the only acknowledgment you’ll receive.

if you’re not young, i can contextualize it. the prefrontal cortex is still developing. impulse control, long term consequence evaluation, emotional regulation, those executive functions are not fully online yet. even at 18, there’s still maturation happening.

but if you are a grown ass adult, paying bills, filing taxes, living independently, in university, and still engaging in parasocial entitlement or chronically online fixation for exmaple, over how I write, that is not normative behavior. that’s not healthy attachment.

dear, that's a mental illness.

there is no reason to be fully grown ass adult should be obsessing over or policing what a university student writes/thinks on her own blog. i write to explore ideas, to help others reflect, to share my perspective. the only thing you are entitled to know about me is that i am a passionate student. not my private life. not my day to day.

if you have enough time to sit in someone’s inbox being disrespectful and obsessive, redirect that energy. invest in your own development. speak to a licensed professional.

yes, I’m training to become one. I am not yours. Log tf off.

i’m a grown woman with real responsibilities and real life problems. i write about heavy things so people can feel understood. anons jabs do not even graze the top of my priorities. and if you’re bold enough to be disrespectful but hide behind anonymity, you already know you're in the fucking wrong.

You’re not affecting me.

i’m only addressing this because it resurfaces every few months and somehow people think i’ll bend. i won’t.

to my REAL dearest readers, the ones who engage with thought and creativity, thank you. I genuinely appreciate you.

expect more Creepypasta Stuff for now on! — ꩜ yaya .ᐟ

the reason why because i'm in the mood to expand my writing!

as other VNs, psychologically though, A Date At The Cemetery takes it. Avon Lockhart adds trauma, realism, and he's very well written yandere that doesn’t overly romanticize, even his frineds that the creator designed/created are all interesting. it lingers.

then adding my supernatural bias: a Date with Death. i haven’t finished it yet, but it always a the back of my brain. you get to chat and date the grim reaper. casper? Immediately yes. reapers are already my favorite archetype, and I heard a second game is coming with two more reapers. I will be seated.

Now, I could easily make info cards, headcanons, even pull Yaya OC out of her TKATB era (because I lowkey need to rebrand her anyway) and seat her right next to Inkyette and Inksilk like nothing happened.

That part? Effortless. But here’s the reality.

Creepypasta and The Freak Circus will remained my priority.

i literally made full OCs for them. Inksilk exists. Inkyette exists. they are main meals. the other VNs? they’re side dishes... so fun. simple indulgence. i enjoy them because they don’t drain my brain.

that said, i cannot do ALL THREE, Killer Chat, A Date At The Cemetery, or A Date with Death. ONLY ONE. It’s midterms season for me, dearies. research is eating me alive. and if you haven’t noticed, i design my own borders and banners for every character, even myself.

I also don’t want my page turning into a full VN archive. i appreciate the recommendations, truly. but those VNs didn’t give me no spark = no passion to write.

sidenote: i'm still bit unsure about Killer Chat especially, the fandom nowdays feels quieter. like i don’t know if I’d be joining a conversation or whispering into empty space. that’s my only hesitation. but I’ll still attempt to write about it.

sooooo I’ll leave it to y'all. i'm watching which way the scale tips~

Q: Wouldn’t it have been better to write BEN as a fully grown man?

this assumes BEN was meant to be human in the first place—which he isn’t, in my interpretation.

BEN is not comparable to Tim (Masky) or Brian (Hoodie) or Jeff himself. He is not a human adult man. He’s an ageless, non-human entity. He doesn’t read as young or old because age does not apply to him. BEN isn’t a person—in my opinion.

he’s a evill entity who has uncanny presence wearing a shape.

Q: Why does BEN look the way he does in your writing?

because he presents himself as something familiar but wrong.

i headcannon him to still, have creepy resemblance towards Link, in the legend of Zelda games—he uses a Link’s Hylian form because it’s recognizable. 

the body looks assembled, not born—too clean, too clean, like a model edited by something that understands anatomy but isn’t bound by it. His face sits in an uncanny middle ground, unfinished. His ears are sharp, exaggerated by choice.

his eyes aren’t eyes—they’re voids. black holes bleeding outward, red pinpricks burning at the center like error lights.

this is not a child. this is not a human adult. 

this is an ageless entity occupying a form.

Q: Why is there so much confusion about BEN’s age in general?

Because BEN Drowned lore has never been clean or singular.

i’ve been in the creepypasta fandom since around 2014, when most of us only had the original story—not ARG breakdowns or clarified timelines. The original story follows a college student, and the old man says the cartridge belonged to “a boy named Ben” who was about your age. 

back then, most people assumed Ben was college-aged too.

that’s where early fandom interpretations came from of him being prev, a fuckboy, hell ever a a stoner, why? well, low-key that's how most college dudes are as I can speak on it because i am a university student right now.

Later lore split things into:

Ben (lowercase): the drowned child.

BEN / B.E.N (uppercase): the network, the entity, the system.

those are not the same character. hell, from what I've seen online from doing research on BEN, apparently he has a green bob and has his presence of looking uncanny when he stares at you—i did like how that BEN looks so i use that from what my early interpretations was in the fandom and merge to how i currently see him now, now i'm an adult woman.

I agree with that distinction, and I write them accordingly.

Important boundary

overall, i do not write BEN as an “ageless child,” a child, or a teenage boy in any adult or 18+ context, and I never will. 

my fanon BEN is an ageless, non-human entity—he is not a human minor, not meant to be read as one, and not written to function within human age categories at all. 

he also isn’t meant to resemble a conventional adult man; the intention is something uncanny, inhuman, and outside of age entirely, which is fundamentally different from being child-coded.

again, the confusion came from a single instance of imprecise wording (“teenage”)—now to Hylian—which was unintentional, leftover language from older fandom terminology, and did NOT reflect my intent, my RULES, or how I conceptualize the character. 

that wording was corrected as soon as it was brought to my attention because I realize it did not align with my boundaries from younger me VS now me. I understand why it read as off-putting, and questioning it was reasonable—but it was an error in description, not a chnage in intent or a contradiction of my rules.

to be clear regarding the “rules” mentioned: 

i did not intentionally break them. my boundaries and my morals have always been the same—I do not sexualize minors, and that has not changed at any point.

I don’t want minors interacting with my work in the first place, and I’m uncomfortable with them being in adult spaces at all.

this is an especially sensitive topic for me—when I was a child, I was heavily sexually harassed, and even today, my face and petite body sometimes make others perceive me as “cute” or younger than I am.

it’s disturbing, and part of why being Aro/Ace helps me set clear boundaries and avoid situations where people might sexualize me.

it’s always been this way.

i also recognize the reality that i cannot fully control who comes across my content online. because of that, i take responsibility where i can: i clearly label my work, i heavily advise that the majority of it is explicit 18+, yeah the 15+ in my bio, in quote:

...all posts are 15+, and nsfw is 18+. this is primarily an adult space, so if you want to be mutuals, you must be an adult. if you a minor.... i'm not stopping you from reading my stuff, just don't message me.

to stand on business, going forward, everything I post will be 18+ only. Still, I’ve labeled posts differently before this—all are 18+—but I’ve made the choice to standardize everything at 18+ for a reason.

like, to think i was even about to make a 15+ banner for TFC content when i remembered: even the creator doesn’t want minors in the fandom. i also recalled how poorly things went down with the Harlequin/Pierrot shipping situation—translation issues aside, the backlash largely came from minors.

fandoms i interact with frequently, like the freak circus, clearly state: “This game is recommended for ages 18+. the yandere theme includes dark elements, strong language, and sensitive graphic content.”

even creepypasta there's no set age, but it's staying 18+ and other visual novel fandom's as long as that, i don't disrespect the characters in the creators view as i do fun 'what if' situation while using psychoanalysis on them they're still gonna be 18+ because no minors should be reading that.

i will be following that strictly from now on.

my goal is to write a psychological horror visual novel that explores reality, perception, and the human psyche, and wanting to be a future psychiatrist, that requires respecting these boundaries.

some of my work will be marked SFW or NSFW, but that does NOT change the fact that all of it is strictly 18+. SFW simply means it’s safe to view publicly, while NSFW will contain explicit material—but the age restriction remains the same.

i make careful choices to maintain these boundaries and avoid ever pushing or blurring them.

when something slips through that doesn’t align with those boundaries, i correct it immediately. i don’t justify it or argue about it—I fix it. my boundaries are firm, consistent, and intentional, and they remain unchanged.

that said, I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of the day, carefully re-reading my BEN fanfic to ensure I didn’t miss anything as take my rules seriously, and i take the responsibility that comes with creating and sharing work seriously as well.

to anyone still reading, please enjoy the rest of your day. — ꩜ yaya .ᐟ