#and because that's what i'm used to that's what my theme is based off of!

[sherlockedfannibal23]

The complete dynamic between Al Haitham and Kaveh (an overthinker's analysis)

So this has been bouncing around in my head for the past few months and I'm going to try and condense it into this post to get it out of my system. Basically these are the parallel themes or principles that I've seen between Al Haitham and Kaveh since they released.

1. Subjective versus objective

Kaveh is one to value the subjective, hence favoring art which is the expression of the individual even if it's the expression of his client's wishes, and will often overextend his empathy to inanimate objects like Merahk, animals, etc. Al Haitham on the other hand is more focused on objective fact that isn't malleable or sympathetic to subjective whims, he takes comfort in the stability of knowledge and that all it takes is more learning to solve problems, and considers a lot of subjective things like emotions to be 'noisy'.

2. External vs Internal perspective

Kaveh prioritizes the perspectives of others over his own as the roots from which his understanding grows, while Al Haitham prioritizes his own perspective over others'. This is why Kaveh comes off as empathetic and sentimental and maybe even naive on the surface even if he's highly intelligent, he chooses to take the more alturistic route on purpose, just like Al Haitham chooses the individualistic route even if it makes him more outwardly selfish and callous, has the potential to isolate him and has made him more difficult to understand, the important part here is that they're exercising the method that they concluded was best to realize their interests. For Al Haitham society begins with the individual (himself), while for Kaveh it begins with the collective, and so their respective truths align accordingly. While Kaveh prioritizes responsibility, Al Haitham prioritizes his personal boundaries. Also, while Al Haitham perceives external perspectives as 'noise', Kaveh uses them to actively shape his understanding.

3. Done versus perfect

Kaveh approaches the world as he'd like it to be, based on its potential, while Al Haitham approaches the world as it is. So Kaveh tends to lean into perfectionism and ideals while Al Haitham leans into efficiency and solutions. This is why Kaveh tends to overextend himself, not only does he think that his projects should be the best they could possibly be, but he also thinks the same about himself, holding himself to perfectionist standards. Meanwhile Al Haitham comes off as doing the bare minimum, sometimes even less, because he believes that as long as something meets the 'done' requirements, any extra effort wastes precious energy, time and resources.

4. Different kinds of evolution (adapting/growing versus navigating/surviving)

I think this is where the most contention happens between them, both Al Haitham and Kaveh were faced with circumstances that forced them to adapt (no family and barely any support at a young age, being unique thinkers who are difficult to understand by the average person).

They also both, early on, chose to carve out unique paths for themselves, with belonging being the trade-off. However, while Al Haitham leaned into maintaining himself as he was, finding a niche in which he was comfortable, Kaveh tried to adapt and conform as much as he could while maintaining his core. Think of it like compromising as much as you can to fit in versus refusing to change in exchange for fitting in.

Al Haitham thus sees Kaveh giving away something precious in return for acceptance from people who don't even understand or value him, while Kaveh sees Al Haitham as simply refusing to try to reach an understanding and so find the support and connection he needs. Neither of them is completely correct about the other, and this is what created the circumstances for their fallout. Because they were shaped mainly by their circumstances and did what they had to do to make it out of their difficult circumstances with their 'selves' intact. They evolved differently and thus have very different interpretations of resilience and growth.

5. Openness vs reservedness

This is a small section that ties into the previous one, but basically Kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve, often having a hard time keeping secrets, while Al Haitham is more protective of his, even going so far as avoiding vulnerability by deflecting when people try to frame the conversation in a way that he needs to be forthcoming with personal details. Don't get me wrong, they both struggle with vulnerability, but Kaveh wants to be understood, almost desperately, while Al Haitham wants to be as invisible as possible and would rather not be percieved.

6. Study vs Mastery

This is kind of a minor one but the way they process information is interesting, with Kaveh leaning more into practice and mastery of a craft while Al Haitham seems to lean more into the accumulation in knowledge and closing any gaps in his database.

7. Structural thinking vs dynamic thinking

This is a little difficult to explain and gets into headcanon territory but basically Al Haitham prefers to break things down into components and then work through the pieces systematically while Kaveh likes jumping from point to point, like traversing a flexible web of ideas or connecting stray dots. It's why Al Haitham is better at fact checking, prefers consistency and is resistant to wild ideas, while Kaveh is more creative and prone to unique and far reaching ideas. It's also why their conversations usually involve Kaveh coming off as an overthinker while Al Haitham grounds his train of thought. Imo they're both overthinkers Al Haitham is just systematic and quiet about it.

8. The past vs the future

This is an overarching theme in Sumeru but dreams, memories, and the connections between them as well as how shared experiences reinforce them are big themes even with these two. Kaveh wants to be very future oriented based on his dialogue but you can also see the past weighing him down, heavily influencing his decisions, while Al Haitham is very pragmatic and averse to thinking too big about the future, wanting a peaceful and free life, but even this was sparked by his grandmother's wish, who in a way set him free from carrying through on a dream tied to external expectations or his family's legacy. Too add, he is close to Kaveh and the gang whether he likes it or not precisely because of their shared past, Kaveh is his memory, and he ends up living in their 'dream house', he is still affected by those thread like connections that come with interacting with others and living in community.

9. Risk vs certainty

Another small one but Kaveh is more likely to make a decision based on the potential outcome than what is right in front of him like Al Haitham. This also ties back into seeing things for their potential versus how they are, with Kaveh preferring to work based on the ideal potential of something versus the factual outcome that Al Haitham prefers.

10. Hope(dreams) vs evidence(memory)

This one is speculation and might also be another reason why Kaveh leans into more speculative territory while Al Haitham prefers fact. Kaveh probably only had his dream to hold onto at his lowest point while for Al Haitham structure and evidence have always been available to him (his grandmother was a steady presence who reassured him on being himself while Kaveh was abandoned with little beyond the guilt-laced memories of his father). So for example Kaveh's projects rely on him having and holding onto a vision that he eventually fulfills, while Al Haitham documents what's already been done and established as the Scribe. This ties into Kaveh seeing himself and the world based on potential while Al Haitham prefers seeing things as they are. However Al Haitham ends up respecting Kaveh because he always follows through on his dreams while Kaveh begrudgingly accepts that Al Haitham is far more consistent due to working within realistic boundaries.

My Conclusions

1. They're both self contradictory

The reason people find the two to be confusing is because their characterization is intentionally misleading, in line with the theme of Sumeru where characters turn out to be more than their tropes once you dig a little deeper. And this is exemplified by how they also misunderstand each other when they were younger and inexperienced, hence their fallout.

A really good example is how Al Haitham believes that it's better for people to be individuals (find their own path to belonging with their sense of self intact) rather than conform or force themselves into systems that won't accomodate or appreciate them, however he just happens to fit neatly into the structures of the Akademiya, he's very compatible with how the Akademiya works, something that's not only rare but inaccessible to most people of Sumeru.

Kaveh on the other hand believes that systems should change to accommodate everyone, and that people should try to meet their potential despite the obstacles, and yet is in the one nation where his dream, his ideal, becomes an impossible task, materially but also systemically. His talents aren't appreciated by the institution that's in charge, even after proving it (and above and beyond that), and after years of putting in the extra effort to appeal to the Akademiya and pull his Darshan out of the dark.

The point of their dynamic is not that either one or both are right, it's that they grow even more through their connection and understanding the other's perspective, which is why Al Haitham takes Kaveh in and indulges his whims somewhat, or in the archon quest when he offers himself up as hostage, even if he knows it'll add more 'noise' to his life, something he explicitly avoided as part of his purpose, and why Kaveh didn't accept to continue the utopian-esque research of Sachin even if it would give him a chance to continue chasing his ideals. They were mirroring each other in action.

2. How they mirror each other

Basically they are both unique to the world, and neglected by the world (in different ways but especially in terms of understanding), and as such needed an equally unique person to help them further deepen their understanding of themselves and their world (inner and external), they also both share many core experiences and thus perspectives on a lot because of their time together at the Akademiya, and as such, their relationship is the thing with the most potential for them to both grow/evolve further. They not only understand each others quirks, routines, and flaws, but also gaps in knowledge and experiences, which is invaluable for a scholar.

So with Al Haitham, Kaveh is probably the only person who is truly empathetic towards him, who can correctly deduce on the roots of his behavior, and also anticipate his needs, and thus Kaveh is the only one who can, for example, give meaningful support and company, as well as a controlled environment to learn about others without conventional and tedious socializing. Kaveh is the reason Al Haitham got leftovers even though he forgot there was a meetup, and the reason Al Haitham now has friends to get drinks and play cards with.

With Kaveh, Al Haitham's self reliance and individualism gives him no room to empathize beyond what's necessary, and so Kaveh is forced to just exist and look inward to his own wants and needs, and then voice them, instead of distracting himself with the needs and wants of the people and institutions around him. He's also a stable anchor for Kaveh, both as a consistent and stable presence in his life, as well as the grounded voice to balance out his dreaming. Al Haitham makes space in their shared home for Kaveh to rest and be himself beyond his burdens.

3. Why Nahida prefers Kaveh's perspective but Al Haitham becomes Grand Sage

Honestly I don't know for sure. My speculation is that Nahida and Kaveh both have great potential for growth as well as the desire to fulfill their dreams, they also share the desire to understand the perspectives of others, exercise empathy that is. However this doesn't apply to when the Akademiya needed a new Grand Sage, a period of instability that needed discernment, efficiency and results, after which it can go back to dreaming about the future.

If you made it this far thank you for reading!

I might edit this to add some pictures later.

[prentissluvr]

be honest, is my theme bad? 😭 yours is very pretty, i feel like mine is very discoordinated though i don’t know

-@moose-code

hi lovely!! thanks for calling mine pretty!

i don't think it's bad at all!! i actually really adore the colors, the blue + yellow is very nice! it has nice contrast! also, everyone has different taste in what kind of theme they like! i'm also a visual arts major + graphic design minor so i spend a lot of time learning how to make things look visually pleasing which does make a difference i think?

if you want to be very picky about your theme, which you don't have to be, i think that the only thing that i personally would change is the second picture you have in your pinned (if that's something you're counting as part of your theme) solely because it is so neutral and desaturated in color, so it doesn't blend in with the other images you're using (which are generally more warm in tone). you could either find a new picture with warmer tones or you could edit the photo by upping the "warmth" setting! this should be able to be done in your photos app, ik for sure it can on apple iphone, but it's a basic photo editing setting so it should in any built in photo editing on your phone! but that's all! i really like the dividers you chose and the overall vibe + again, i love the colors i think they're nice and unique!!

[triptuckers]

drunk in love - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x reader Summary: remy is comes home drunk, so you take care of him Warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, mentions of sexual themes/making out but not actually the real thing dont worry, remy being a whiny lovesick puppy, one mention of throwing up but no actual throwing up Word count: 1.7K A/N: currently binge watching x men 97 PLEASE give me more gambit content pls marvel I'm willing to beg you on my knees. based on a screenshot I saw of a comic page. enjoy!

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you're sitting on the couch, reading your book. it's dark outside, and the clock on the wall tells you it's way too late for you to be awake. you weren't a night owl, but this book was just too good. every time you want to put it away, a chapter ends in a cliffhanger. you couldn't bring yourself to close it without finding out what happened next.

the story is so good and you're so focused on it, you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the door knob rattle.

it was late and remy wasn't home. he went out drinking with some of the other x-men. it wasn't often they were all free and in the same city, so you knew if it did happen, remy would usually stay out til late. not coming home til long after you'd gone to bed already.

you weren't expecting him to come home this early, so you're immediately on guard. slowly, you put your book down and creep closer to the front door. you grab the closest thing you can find to use as a weapon. you don't know how much damage a tissue box could do, but at the very least you could throw it at the intruder and run away.

remy had tried to teach you some self defence tricks in case something happened and he wasn't home, but he was nearly always right there with you, so you never really learned it.

you wish you had paid him more attention now.

as you get closer to the front door, you see a shadow silhouetted against the glass. and then you hear a voice, cursing while trying to open the door.

'merde... why won't this fucking key fit... fuck off...'

you unlock the door and open it. maybe a little too quickly, because remy all but stumbles into you. you barely manage to catch him.

when he looks up at you, he gives you a dazzling smile with his eyes half closed. 'hello, mon amour.' he says.

you laugh softly and roll your eyes as you shake your head. of course he'd stumble home drunk. you already know your evening is far from over when he's like this.

'come on.' you say. 'let's get you inside.'

remy does a spectacularly bad job at getting up. and he's heavy.

'remy.' you say, holding on to him. 'work with me here.'

you manage to get him inside and lock the door again. remy is looking at you with a smile on his face.

'I hadn't expected you back yet.' you say, walking into the kitchen.

remy follows you and grabs one of your hands with both of his.

'I missed you, chéri.' he says, pulling you close and nuzzling his face in your neck.

'we live together, remy. I saw you this afternoon.' you say.

you feel his lips press against the side of your neck. you briefly close your eyes and allow yourself to revel in the feeling. then you gently push him away.

you hear remy whine and turn to see him pout at you.

'you don't love me anymore?' he says.

'of course I do, my love.' you say. 'but you're drunk. you need to drink some water and go to bed.'

you grab a clean glass and walk over to the sink. as you're filling it up with water, you can sense remy's presence behind you. seconds later, you feel his hands on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

you mange to turn around in his arms and hand him the glass of water.

'drink up.'

'can I get a kiss afterwards?'

you roll your eyes. you don't want to admit you think it's adorable when he's this handsy and affectionate. you would only encourage him and you really meant it: you wouldn't do anything when he's drunk. he'd do the same if the roles were reversed.

'sure, love, you can get a kiss afterwards.'

you have to hold back your laughter as remy's eyes light up and he downs the glass in one go. you smirk and blow him a kiss before he can lean in.

'hey, what the fuck! no fair!' he exclaims, frowning.

'come on.' you say, holding out your hand to him. 'let's go to bed.'

he all but stumbles over his feet in his haste to grab your hand and follow you.

'yeah, let's go to bed.' you hear remy say behind you. you can tell by the tone in his voice you two have different ideas about 'going to bed'.

'to sleep, remy.' you clarify.

he sighs so loudly you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. you smile to yourself, amused at how fast his moods change when he's drunk. and about the fact he's such a love sick puppy when he's had a few. that is, more of a love sick puppy than he normally is. god, he really loves you.

when you get to your bedroom, you motion for remy to sit down on the bed. you kneel down to untie his boots.

'loving this view, mon amour.' comes remy's voice from above you. 'you know I love it when you get on your knees for me.'

'I'm just taking off your boots.'

'sure you are.'

'I am, remy.'

'are you sure?'

'yes, I am sure.'

remy sighs dramatically and lets himself fall back onto the bed. you glance up at him and see how tight his pants are. of course he'd not only be overly affectionate, but also turned on.

you tug off his boots and socks, raising to your feet.

'stand up for me, please.' you say.

remy opens his eyes and smirks at you from his position on the bed.

'now this view, I like.'

'it's literally so late remy, come on, I want to go to bed.'

he takes a hold of the hand you offer him and lets you pull him to his feet. you reach out to undo his belt.

'wow, chéri, buy me dinner first.' remy mumbles above you. you can tell by his quiet voice he's ready to go to sleep but fighting to stay awake. you wonder how much of this he'll remember tomorrow.

after undoing his belt and helping him out of his pants, you tell him to put his arms up so you can pull his shirt over his head. he does what you ask and doesn't even make a flirty comment about it. that tells you his tiredness is really kicking in.

you briefly step away to get a pair of sweatpants and a shirt out of the closet. as you hand them to him, you allow remy to rest his hand on your shoulder as he puts on the pants you've given him. you let your eyes linger on his muscular chest as he puts on the shirt. you really did get lucky with him, even if he can't keep his hands off of you when he's drunk.

you gently guide him to the bed and help him lay down. you get into the bed next to him and feel how remy pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck.

'you will kiss me tomorrow, right?' he mumbles against your skin.

you run your hands lazily through his hair. 'if you aren't hungover as fuck, which I think you will be, then yes, I'll kiss you, my love.' you say.

'oh fuck yes.' he says, making you chuckle softly.

'goodnight, remy.' you say.

'sweet dreams, mon amour.' he says.

just as you expected, remy falls asleep within seconds. you lay there for a while, absently running your fingers through his hair and thinking about how much you love him, before you eventually fall asleep as well.

when you wake up in the morning, your chest feels heavy. you open your eyes to see remy has somehow put his entire body on yours during the night.

you stay like that for a while, until you can no longer deny you really want breakfast.

with some effort, you push remy off of you so you can get up. he's still asleep as you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

as you make breakfast, you're softly humming to yourself while you're in the kitchen.

your morning is quiet. you decide to let remy sleep for as long as he wants, maybe it would make his hangover less extreme.

just as you're making your lunch, you hear remy coming down the stairs. he stumbles into the kitchen, grumbling something in thick accented cajun you can't understand.

then he all but leans his entire body weight on you as he's standing behind you.

'why does the world hate me?' he says.

you laugh. 'good afternoon to you too, my love.'

'morning.' he mumbles. 'your voice is so loud, chéri.'

'this is the thanks I get for taking care of your drunk ass last night?'

'sorry. was I being an asshole?'

'no, just the usual. you couldn't keep your hands off of me.'

'you're used to that.'

'I am.'

you turn around. remy wraps his arms around you and drops his forehead to your shoulder.

'is this what dying feels like?' he mumbles.

'no, my love, this is what being extremely hungover feels like.' you say. 'you want coffee?'

'dear god no, the thought of it makes me want to throw up. I'll just lay on the couch.'

'you're so dramatic.' you say, gently taking a hold of his face and holding it in front of you.

remy closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 'this is making me feel better already.'

you lean in and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. when you pull back, he opens his eyes and smiles briefly at you. then he sways a bit on his feet and sucks in a sharp breath.

'still want to kiss me like you said yesterday?'

'oh, mon amour, I think if I stand really still and you don't move, the world stops spinning.'

you laugh at him as he groans, pressing one hand to his forehead. you decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. the two of you alternate between taking naps and you reading your book out loud to him. as the day passes, you can't help but to think that maybe a hungover remy isn't so bad. you secretly love how he refuses to leave your side when he's hungover.

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[julienbakerstreet]

Ranking Sherlock Holmes Adaptations by the Quality of Their Dressing Gowns

First, my qualifications: I'm a flamboyant fashion-forward femme who frequently wears dressing gowns.

Rubric: I am scoring based on color, pattern, textural intrigue, garment construction, and fit. In cases where there are multiple dressing gowns per adaptation, I picked my favorite one.

#12 The Seven-Percent Solution (1976)

I hate this one. It's so beige, and the corded details + drop waist ultimately make it look like a monk's tunic. The only redeeming value I can find in this is the slight angled detail with the cording on the sleeves.

#11 Mr. Holmes (2015)

Similar to the last robe with some slight improvements. For one, it has pockets! The pockets have a corded decorative applique, and if you zoom in on a higher-def image you can see that the fabric has an interesting textured weave. I could definitely see it styled well. This robe is ugly, too thin to keep him warm, and fits worse than a burlap sack, but this Holmes is retired and deserves to put comfort and practicality first.

#10 Granada (1984)

This dressing gown is BAD!!! Before you accuse me of being biased against mouse-colored dressing gowns (I am) let me assure you that color is not my only issue with this dressing gown. It commits the ultimate fashion sin- boring. The texture looks decidedly un-cozy. I even hate the construction! There's no belt, or even belt loops, and the pocket is sewn onto the outside of the gown! Nothing wrong with patch pockets per se, but on this robe it looks shabby. This is made all the more painful by the fact that Watson wears multiple colorful and well-textured dressing gowns in this show. I love Granada, but I can't excuse this.

#9 Cushing Holmes (1968)

I really wish I liked this dressing gown more, because I think that Cushing is one of the best-dressed Holmeses we've ever seen. But I simply cannot get behind this. I applaud the bold use of color and how on theme this gown is for The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, but the red cording and blue looks odd together. In other shots, you can see buttons, but I think a dressing gown should have a nice belt, and I think the buttons are just a bit too formal for what should be a comfortable piece. I love that this is a Holmes who's willing to take a fashion risk, but in this case it did not pay off. 

#8 Soviet Holmes (1979)

While this dressing gown is boring, the fabric looks nice and heavy, perfect for curling up cozily in front of the fire on a cold night. Contrary to the Granada plain brown dressing gown, this one has a belt and pockets sewn into the gown. There’s nothing interesting about this gown, but it isn't offensive.

#7 Ritchie Holmes (2009)

Agh! This dressing gown is in tatters! As befits action-hero Holmes, I suppose. It might deserve the lowest spot on the list for its condition, but looking beyond that, I really enjoy the colors and the paisley pattern. It reminds me of a nice Persian rug. The hints of blue set off the reds and oranges nicely, and at one point it must have been a very nice robe. I like that the state of the robe tells us something about the personality of the wearer, but points are deducted because the texture looks a tad rough and it's in an unbelievably rough state.

#6 Basil of Baker Street (1986)

Now we're getting to the good stuff! The magenta dressing gown is set off nicely by the black cuffs, collar, and belt. Extra points for styling it with a green cravat, and because it nearly matches Dr. Dawson's vest. Great character design, and it makes Basil look like a snazzy little rodent.

#5 Rathbone Holmes (1939)

It's harder to judge in black and white, but I really like this dressing gown! The fabric looks like a thick cotton velvet, and the cording gives it a lovely contrast. It's distinguished, but it still manages to look comfortable for smoking a pipe next to Watson.

#4 The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

Now this is nice! The velvet is very shiny, slightly green, and I love the quilted collar and pocket. However, upon further inspection, it's not quite a dressing gown, but more like a long smoking jacket, for which it loses points. Still, it's the closest he comes to wearing a dressing gown and perfect for this urbane and fashionable Holmes.

#3 Enola Holmes (2020)

Dare I say fabulous? I love the cerulean on this one! The fabric looks like a soft silk, which isn't exactly the warmest, but very comfortable. The pattern on the collar is very intricate as well. It's definitely not the dressing gown I would pick for a classic Holmes, but it suits this untraditional Holmes perfectly.

#2 William Gillette (1899)

For the man who popularized the deerstalker/Inverness combo, he can certainly rock a dressing gown. Definitely the most authentic on the list (this picture was taken in 1916), I love the quilted collar, pockets, and cuffs. The silky fabric and decorative pattern make for a very stylish sleuth. I particularly enjoy the shape of the pockets and cuffs. Points deducted for an awkward fit and the lack of a belt.

#1 Star Trek: The Next Generation (1988)

"But this isn't an adaptation, it's just an episode of Star Trek!" I don't care! It counts in my heart. And Data has my favorite Holmes dressing gown. Let's break it down. This looks like a velvet gown with a classically Victorian damask pattern. The velvet texture contrasts really well with the quilted silk collar. The twisted cord belt even has a tassel at the end! And to top it off, it's fully lined with bright red silk. It looks comfortable for lounging in, the fabric has a nice heft without being stiff, and the aesthetic is perfect. This is, to me, the ultimate Holmes dressing gown.

Let me know which ones I missed and what your favorite dressing gowns are!

[calder]

Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme��of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

____

“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality �� and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

[these-posts-arent-real]

Oh StarClan... your dash has turned into warrior cats again.

#sorry <3 #this one has parts that are based off of that #one post rhats like "if there were cat-people #do you think calico tboys would try to dye over their patches"

2 notes

🔁 🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow reblogged

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Me & Night (my mate)!!!

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

:O Kip's mate has finally been revealed!!! And his name is Night? Cooool.

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Yeah haha. Technically his full name is Night Hunter, Bringer of Darkness, but it feels so weirdly formal calling him that, so I usually stick to just Night.

#life #kittypet #collar tw #cw collars #id in alt text

8,504 notes

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

I find it really funny when I see cats on here vaguepost about big blogs. Like cmon mouse-brain everyone here knows who you're talking about. Just say their name.

#this is about that one mommy blogger shitting on kipper the kittypet #btw #in case some of you couldnt tell #would be funny if it wasnt so stupid

12 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

Hahaaaaa.... my mother found out ive been slowly dyeing my ginger patches black...

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Why would you do that??? Being a tortie is so cool, I wish I had ginger patches! They're so pretty, why do you want to get rid of them???

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

Uhm. Gender dysphoria??

Like. I know cis male tortoiseshells exist but they're so rare that most cats take one look at me and go "oh, tortie, must be a girl" and that hurts.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

OH STARCLAN im so sorry Rot i wasnt even thinking about you being trans, I probably sounded really insensitive... I do understand what you're saying now.

Didn't even ask, how did your mom take it? Does she know why?

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

You're fine <3 I get it. And no, she uh.. has no clue why I did it, she thinks I'm in my "emo phase" or something.

🐍 xviper-the-fagx

Uhh unrelated but what do you use to dye your fur?? Asking for... science...

#"science" meaning i am also a tortie tboy #well technically i'm calico but ykwim

46 notes

🔁 🦋 lalala-bluegaze Follow reblogged

🦢 gentlesong-momof17 Follow

I can't be the only one here who thinks it's unfair to allow kittypets on this site. Posting pictures of themselves and their mates inside of the twolegplace, influencing the young kits on this site to abandon their Clans... surely everyone else sees the problem with this as well.

This is Clanblr, not "Kittypetblr". This was specifically made as a space for Clan cats to connect, not for kittypets to push their lifestyle on us.

They're going to convince our kits to abandon their home and their belief in StarClan just for a more secure life.

#EXACTLY #I only recently found out ex-tc Kipper was a kittypet #it was so upsetting to me because i've always loved his wood-scratch art #to find out he's a clan-abandoner was so saddening

2,447 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

The recent drama surrounding Kipper the Kittypet is sad and I hate that he's being bashed just for existing, but it's also incredibly stupid. I believe the cat who wrote the original post said something like, "it's CLANblr, not KITTYPETblr," and then something about belief in StarClan and I just... do you even realize how many Clanblr mods are non-Clan and/or don't believe in StarClan?

To name a few, @s-t-a-r-burning is former WindClan now rogue & openly an atheist, @theshadowhaseyes has been a kittypet his whole life, and @ssuunnrraayy-p has made zir entire blog about how ze travels from one Clan to another & doesnt consider zimself a Clan cat. Those are all mods. "It's clanblr no-" shut up. Just shut up.

245 notes

🧷 name-lists-by-theme

Theme: Water

as always, these work as either part of your name, but they are intended as the first part!

-Abyss

-Bay

-Bog

-Cove

-Creek

-Current

-Dew

-Fog

-Lagoon

-Lake

-Marsh

-Mist

-Pond

-Pool

-Puddle

-Rain

-Shallow

-Sleet

-Spray

-Splash

-Storm

-Stream

-Torrent

Keep reading

383 notes

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

I think a lot of cats put way too much emphasis on the parts of the warrior code that dont matter, and forget the parts that do, like "feed elders and kits first" and "never neglect a kit in pain or danger"... I feel like those are significantly more important than "a warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet," but maybe that's just me.

#berry yaps #I'm irritated by the kittypet drama going on on this site

16 notes

🔁 🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow reblogged

🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated

I feel like we don't talk enough about how SkyClan got chased out of their own territory during a time of crisis rather than all of the Clans trying to make room for everyone...

I mean, seriously. I know it's taught to all SkyClan apprentices, but I've talked to some of my friends from other Clans and they just. Didn't know that. They were never taught that the other Clans allowed SkyClan to be chased out due to territory loss.

🔲 sstep-xoxo-deactivated

:/ im pretty sure the whole thing about skclan being kicked out of their territory is just a conspiracy theory

🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated

Imagine trying to tell a cat that they don't know their own Clan's history 💀

#ohh i finally found it again #that 1 fucker trying to say that skyclan's history is a "conspiracy theory"

20,056 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

:/ I do not like being stuck on the wrong site.

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[elodieunderglass]

I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

[leidensygdom]

The ways in which being asexual feels isolating

I've been pondering whether to post this or not, but I figured out I wanted to explain a bit of this experience.

So, I could go on a very long tangent on how being asexual is usually a lonely experience, and how much I've been otherized here and there- Specially in real life. How the same people that claimed to be queer (or allies) had been much weirder about my asexuality than they were about me being bi/pan or whatever.

But I think I wanna talk about how something like that bleeds in every aspect of socializing, even down to something like fandom. I stay away from fandom usually- I like to look at cool fanart and that's about it. I hate discourse, I hate drama, I hate reading people getting worked up because they're treating fanon as canon. But there's one thing I've noticed, over and over, that just sends me off my rails.

And it's how fandom tends to treat asexuality (or aromanticism). So, you get a character in some piece of media that explicitly, unequivocally, states they're either ace, aro, or both. "I do not have interest in a partner", "I don't desire to have sex nor do I enjoy the topic", whatever. And as an ace person, I do appreciate being able to see myself in media- There isn't many chases where something is established that bluntly.

Now, you decide you want to check some fanart for that. Fandoms have this tendency to make absolutely everything about shipping, even when the media they're basing it in does not revolve about that (and it's annoying, because a lot of times people aren't interested in the actual themes- It's all reduced to shipping). Suddenly, you notice people treating the aforementioned character as anything but aro or ace. It's all about shipping. "This person interacted with this other person in a way two friends would, but we gotta make this their entire personality now". Some people may instead go for "well, maybe the character is not having sex, but they're probably an absolute freak about it, studies it extensively, has encyclopedic knowledge about it-"

Now, there's of course sex-favourable aces, and that's completely valid, but it's already straying from what, canonically, the character had mentioned. Asexual or aromantic characters aren't really allowed to exist as themselves. People often see them as a blank slate to fill, to change, to fix. I could talk forever about how people react to real life aces like that. I've had people asking me incredibly invasive questions because they saw my lack of sexual attraction as something broken, something they could fix.

And I hate that! I think I'm allowed to say that I hate that! It's hard and unusual for media to cement an aro/ace character, because they're defined by the lack of interest for something, which is often hard to show. But when it does- No one seems to care. It's all shipping, it's all "well, he's gay in denial", "well, she's probably super repressed". If you took a canonically gay character and made them straight on a fanfic, you'd get angry people. Which is bound to happen when you erase representation that people identify with. But aro/ace characters are NOT even seen as queer, they're not even seen as "representation" by most people. You can erase that bit of it, put some god awful shipping on top, and people will applaud you. And it sucks!

I wish people would see being aro or ace as an identity worth respecting, not an identity that needs overwriting. It feels a bit too close to how people often treat aro/aces irl, and it sucks. It reeks of this sort of exclusionism, where "aro/aces are technically queer but it's queer lite at best, it's less interesting than being gay, and we kinda don't want them near us anyhow". Again, I've had far worse experiences about being ace than I have about not being straight.

Sorry if the post got long, but I hope this experience may at least resonate with other people who have been struggling with this, too. It has always felt just kind of lonely to be ace, and see how little people do even consider it an identity, even when it comes down to something like fandom.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞

𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 4.7k Warnings: Blood, Chan is lowkey a dick, MURDER kinda, sex, p in v, cumming inside (use a protection >.>), possessive themes breeding kink, implied pregnancy it doesn't get a part tho i think thats it tell me if i missed anything.

A/N: Based on this TikTok someone save me from my imagination-

"The humans killed our ancestors, the pushed us far from the shores, our people died because of them."

"But why?" One of the merboys asked.

The class looked at him, small bubbles jetting behind the teacher from seashell horns on the coral wall. "Because they fear the unknown Hyunjin."

It was a while after classes he was moving on the current among the schools of fish, he saw the floaty. He moved for it confused. Why was a floaty this far from the shore. On the bobbing swan was a girl, she stared at him with wide eyes and he stared back. Her hands weren't webbed, she didn't have the fin like appendages jutting out behind her ears... but mostly, she didn't have a tail.

A HUMAN!? Hyunjin swam back slightly, fear prickling through him, the human tried paddling to the shore frantically, also afraid. His brows furrowed. Hesitantly, cautiously, he came above the water and tried forming the syllables he'd learned in class. "You swim no??"

The human girl looked at him. "You speak.."

Hyunjin made a face.

"Sorry. No, I can't swim." She laughed slightly. "What are you?"

Hyunjin tried to think of a word. "You caught... riptide." He pointed to the beach.

The human nodded.

"Catch current." He said, grabbing the floaty and pushing it rather quickly to the upcoming wave heading for the shore.

"Wait." The girl looked at him, her e/c eyes meeting luminescent sea green ones. "I'm y/n. What's your name?"

"Hyunjin." He said, pushing the floaty to the current.

The human grabbed his hand, he froze in fear. But she put something in his hand as the current swept her off. Looking down at it, he smiled slightly at a little moon charm.

Minho was poking Hyunjin's head in class. "Hey bubble maker. I'm bored."

"Class isn't over yet." Hyunjin sighed, fiddling with the moon shaped charm that floated around his neck.

"Sneak out with me." The merman behind him poked him again.

Hyunjin turned to Minho. "What do you take me for?"

"Come on." Minho smiled, the fin appendages behind his ears shifting, the scales that lined them shimmering a deep blue color in the light. "Chan and Yongbok must have already left class too. We can get the others."

"FINE" Hyunjin gave an exasperated huff, swishing his glittery green tail, pushing at the sand floor, startling a small squid.

Minho smiled, asking the instructor if he could use the restroom, a few minutes later Hyunjin asked to also go, and the two didn't return.

Meeting up with their friends, Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Yongbok, Seungmin, and Jeongin, the group swam out of the coral area and surfaced looking around. The sun was setting and sparkled against the water, lapping gently around them.

"Woah..." Jeongin, the youngest marveled, eyes glued to the shore. "How do humans build things like that?" He pointed past the sand to the tall structures.

Chan shrugged, "Last time I was on land, someone said there's a lot of math involved."

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath.

The rest looked at him, he was pointing frantically at something. A boat, not just any, but a boat with nets coming from it.

Hyunjin grit his teeth, "Isn't illegal to fish here?"

"It is." Jisung's eyes narrowed.

Chan looked at Changbin nodding. Before the rest could say something, both mermen swam full speed for the boat, slashing the nets and emerging from the water. Hyunjin watched as the people on the boat fell back into the water in fear. Chan dove again and even if it was far away, the scent of human blood reached Hyunjin's nostrils as he watched Changbin flip the boat.

"Disgusting scum." Yongbok spat, before swimming under.

Jisung pursed his lips before diving under as well, the others followed. As Hyunjin watched the boat capsizing he turned to the shore and his eyes widened at the sight of a human dressed similar to the others swimming and flailing frantically.

Chan came next to him, "Don't let him get far."

Hyunjin's ear appendages flared. He swam quickly, claws emerging from his webbed fingers as he closed in on the screaming human. The metallic scent filled his nose as he slashed the human's throat and let the current float the body to the beach.

You cringed as your boss slapped folder on your desk. "Another?"

"This one was a bit better than the last 4." The man huffed. "Guy we found on shore got out easy. Whoever or whatever killed him did it quick."

You made a face, squeezing the sun charm that hung around your neck. "I'll look into it, might have to stake out."

He nodded. "I could assign you a squad."

"If whatever or whoever did this sees a squad of men, it surely won't act."

"It's for your safety."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine."

Your boss smiled and patted the report. "Get to it."

You flipped through the report, looking at the images and the boat, the claw like marks on the fishermen's chests. You huffed, deciding to go to the forensics lab see what they had to say. When you saw the bodies all the forensic analyst and pathologist could say was that the wounds were ridged as if the blade used was jagged, not uniformly.

"Though, y/n." The forensic analyst pulled you aside to two microscopes. "Have you ever seen something like this?"

You looked into the microscope, there was a keratin like material under the first, similar to human hair but glittering.

"What is it?" you asked.

"A fraction of a scale from something...?" The forensic analyst sighed. "But look at this." She motioned to the other microscope.

Looking through it you saw a cell. "What about it?"

She grabbed you and shook you. "It's blue."

You shrugged.

"Y/N.. I didn't stain that sample."

Your eyes widened and you looked at the skin cell again. It was blue...

"I'm going on a stake out tonight." You said determined.

The pathologist and the forensic analyst looked at you a little scared.

"But-" the pathologist started.

"No!" You crossed your arms. "I'm going to figure this out."

You left the room before they could stop you.

Hyunjin probably shouldn't have but the moonlight looked so alluring through the water. The merman swam to the surface and hummed softly as he took in the moon, full and bright, the sky clear, his right ear fin twitched and he sucked in a breath. Boat...

His eyes narrowed as he tried to identify what type of boat. The nets flew and Hyunjin's gills flared, humans didn't ever learn. He dove under and swam toward the ship, claws out.

"There's something out there!" A man shouted.

Hyunjin burst from the water to slash at the man but his eyes widened as he saw a pair of eyes he hadn't seen in years. He pushed against the boat and dove again, swimming away as fast as he could.. He grabbed the moon charm around his neck and remembered, the human girl who got swept away by the riptide. She... He cursed at himself for not flipping the boat and getting it over with.

"I'm not crazy!" You shouted. "I saw a merman!"

"You've been saying that for the past two months." Your fellow investigator sighed. "Sure more fishermen have died but there's nothing to prove that you saw merpeople."

"Just go home and rest, Y/N, you look crazy." the receptionist quipped.

"Listen kid. You're barely out of high school trying to play investigator." The captain of your department patted your head. "Go home and rest. Let the professionals do their jobs."

You groaned in exasperation and walked to your office, sitting in the spinning chair, you knew you'd seen it, you'd seen it before. It- no.. he had your moon charm, you put your head in your hands and stared at the case report. Could there be others? You noticed it as you scanned the victims, the boats.. You grabbed the phone and dialed the natural resource reserve department.

"Hello. Natural resource reserve department this is Kady speaking."

"Hi I'd like to know if Sta Beach and the surrounding area is protected from fishing for commercial and personal use." You said to the woman on the other end of the line.

"Sta Beach?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before you heard rapid typing. "Yes it is illegal to fish for any reason in that area."

You nodded. "Thank you." Hanging up the phone you stared at the pictures again. The fishermen were fishing illegally.. so...

You remembered how that blonde haired merman flew out of the water, claws out but froze as he saw you. THE MERPEOPLE KILL PEOPLE WHO HURT THE FISH! You stood and slapped the case folder closed. You grabbed your phone and carkey, dialing your boss's number as you left the station.

"Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning-"

"I know what's going on. I'm going to fix it myself."

"L/N-"

"It was a pleasure working with you chief."

"L/N IF YOU GO OUT THERE! I SWEAR I'LL-"

You hung up the phone and got into your car, staring the engine and driving to the beach again, as you came to the parking, you put your car into park awkwardly across three spaces and ran for the shore.

You watched as gentle waves crashed against the rocks and sand, removing your shoes, you ran to the water. The moon reflecting off it, stars glittering. You stared out for a moment, noticing a ripple in the water, a head surfaced, fin like appendages behind its ears, it shook its dark hair as another head emerged, then another. You held your breath as five more heads appeared and scanned the water, the first turned and locked eyes with you. Your eyes widened as it dove under the surface, the other heads turned.

You saw those sea green eyes again and you knew.. "Hyunjin..."

Hyunjin shouted, "Chan WAIT!" before diving after the first.

Your eyes widened as the first merman, Chan you assumed, burst out of the water claws bared. You scrambled back deeper into land and it landed, tail dissipating into two legs. You shrieked as he jumped for you. Someone caught him and dragged him to the sand. Hyunjin.

"She saw us!" Chan snapped, easily slamming Hyunjin into the sand.

"She's seen me before!" Hyunjin grabbed Chan's hands. "She won't say anything!"

Chan stared at you. The other mermen came to the shore and changed, they looked human, only their eyes having unnatural luminescence.

One of the men, hair purple and eyes pale white stared intensely at your chest.

You bristled, "It's rude to stare at a woman's chest y'know." You said.

"I wasn't staring at that." he walked forward and Hyunjin jumped off Chan but the purple haired man was faster, grabbing your sun charm and pulling close for inspection. "Hyunjin." he turned to the green eyed man. "Is this here you got that from?" he pointed to Hyunjin's necklace.

Chan stood, eyes narrowed. "She's the human?" He rubbed his face, claws retreating. "Why are you here?"

"I'm investigating why the fishermen died. I guess.." You looked at the men. "I have my answer."

Hyunjin looked at you. "You should go back."

"Why-" You started, but the sound of a siren made you turn.

A few of the men dove back into the water when they heard it, the purple haired man looked at Chan. "What if she says something?"

Chan looked at Hyunjin.

The lights from the police cruisers came closer and one pulled around the corner, a head sticking out the passenger window, gun drawn. Before you could react, Chan grabbed you and threw you into the water, you almost screamed, flailing around since you couldn't swim but Hyunjin grabbed your face, forcing your mouth open as he pushed you deeper beneath the surface. You choked as water invaded your mouth but he put something on your tongue and closed it. To save yourself from choking of the sea water you swallowed and covered your mouth.

The purple haired man tilted his head at you. "Speak."

"Huh-" You grabbed your throat, realizing you were breathing. You looked at them, Hyunjin's legs had become a green tail, Chan's a dark blue one and the purple haired merman now had a funny purple and green tail.

Hyunjin smiled and Chan still gave you an incredulous look. "Minho. Make sure they don't get away."

The purple haired man, Minho, nodded, shooting up to the surface.

"She can't stay." Chan huffed, swimming past Hyunjin and you.

Hyunjin looked at you.

"I thought I was crazy." You said.

"When I send you back you'll have to act crazy." he sighed.

"You can't send me back, they saw you guys drag me under-"

"Minho has it handled, you can return and say it was some kind of sea animal." Hyunjin looked at you. "Chan is right, you can't stay here."

"Says who!?" You snap.

"Do you realize I should've killed you when we met? You and I aren't supposed to even know each other! It's forbidden!" The appendages behind his ears flared angrily.

"Why is it forbidden? Ariel makes it work!"

Hyunjin made a face. "This isn't a fairytale. When human and merperson come together. People die. Why do you think we hide from your kind?" He shook his head. "When the sun rises, you're going back."

You stared at him. "Fine."

He swam after Chan, leaving you there.

If Hyunjin had ever eaten his words it would be years later. Blend in. Act human. Get the artifact and go.

So there Hyunjin was almost four years later, walking around a museum on land, dressed in a suit, carrying a "cellphone". He found the artifact relatively quickly, and admired the craftsmanship of his ancestors.

"Something peak your interest sir?"

He turned to the voice, eyes widening. You looked a little different from before, and if the human world was anything like under the sea, an investigator didn't often change carriers to a museum worker.

You looked up at him and bristled. Taking a step back and shaking your head. "Enjoy the exhibit."

Hyunjin opened his mouth to speak but you had already turned on your heel to walk away. He reached for you but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked at Jisung who shook his head.

"Remember why we're here." he said.

Another museum worker came up to him and Jisung, she smiled and motioned the artifact. "According to native legend, almost 500 years ago this blade belonged to a merman, he fell for a human woman on the surface, and when they wedded in secret, the villagers took him for a monster who bewitched her and they took him away. The human woman told the other merpeople what had happened and hey came to get him back, the result was almost the deaths of nearly all the merpeople who lived on the coast, and when they did, the human woman killed herself with this blade. After the merman found out, he too killed himself."

Hyunjin hummed. It wasn't legend, it was fact. He looked at Jisung. "What an interesting story."

The woman nodded, "The museum is closing soon, please make your way out soon."

Jisung smiled, "Of course."

The men left the museum and Hyunjin grabbed the moon around his neck and breathed deeply. He did it for the best, so the past wouldn't repeat itself... he sent you home. But..

"Did you figure out anything?" Jeongin asked.

Hyunjin snapped out of his thoughts looking at him. "The museum is closing in an hour, we can get it then."

Minho nodded. "Kill the least amount of people as we can."

He nodded, thinking about how they would even get out of the city after they got the artifact.

When it was time to get the artifact, the lights in the museum were out, he could see just fine, sneaking in with Yongbok through a window at the back and making their way to the place he'd seen the artifact. Yongbok grabbed the glass and lifted it just enough for Hyunjin to reach his hand in and grab the handle of the dagger.

"How the hell did I know you'd come back here?"

Yongbok looked claws ready but his brows furrowed when he saw you. "Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin looked at you. "Let us pass."

"No." You huffed.

"Yongbok." Hyunjin handed him the dagger. "Get out of here."

"But-"

"Go."

The blonde haired man ran for it.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Why do you have to be everywhere?"

"I work here!" You snapped. "You're everywhere! Stealing that thing!"

"I'm following orders!" he shouted.

"Oh! Are you?! Kill me then! We can't know each other!" You bared your neck at him.

Hyunjin stared down at you. "No."

"Then what orders are you following Hyunjin?" You shoved him. "You let me live time and time again! What orders are you following?!"

"I can't kill you!"

"Why cant you?!"

"What reason do I have to kill you?!"

"Chan said it himself; I know your kind exists! I shouldn't be allowed to live!"

"You say that like you want me to kill you!"

"Maybe I do! I really thought we were friends! From that moment you pushed me back on the current when we were kids, I thought you were my friend Hyunjin!"

He looked away. "I can't."

"But you'll keep me alive." You gave a dry laugh.

"Of course I will!" He whipped around. "What type of moral code do you think I have?"

"You killed those fishermen no problem."

"They were hurting the fish."

You glared at him. "Take your artifact and go." You pulled off your sun charm and threw it at him. "If you see me, you don't know me."

You turned to leave but he grabbed you, pulling you back against his chest, his hair draping over your shoulder. "I just wish you'd understand.."

"I do." You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he held you there.

"No, you don't." He muttered.

"Make me understand." You reached up and touched his head gently, patting his hair.

He pulled away and turned you to face him. His luminescent sea green eyes locked on yours, and hesitantly, he leaned in, his plush, full lips centimeters from yours. And he kissed you gently, nose bumping yours before he turned your head, tongue prodding at your lips for entry. Your lips parted and he sighed softly at your taste, relishing in the feeling of being so close to you.

Then he pulled away, forehead pressed against yours. "I'll be back, I swear it..." He put the sun charm around your neck again and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Wait for me."

You'd gone back to school, deciding to major in marine biology, it had been almost a year since you'd seen Hyunjin. Still illegal fishermen and the occasional oil dumping people in boats were killed, it was on the news and in the paper. More likely than not it was the work of Hyunjin's friends.

You sat in your apartment bedroom, flipping through your assignment. Your roommate was out for tonight, so it was just you. You tapped your desk as you read through the textbook looking for an answer to a question. You bit the plastic cap of your pen out of frustration.

"Maybe humans want the turtles eating plastic because they're no better." A voice said. That voice was familiar. A voice that was nothing but hostile to you. Now it sounded so calm.

You jumped slightly in fear, turning to your bedroom door.

"Woah woah woah!" Chan laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you. Just thought you might want to see your special guest."

You practically flew from your chair. "Guest? Chan how did you get into my apartment- What guest?" You pushed past the dark haired man and your eyes widened at the sight of Hyunjin and the others, who fiddled with your toaster.

"OW!" A short, well built man jumped, blowing on his finger.

"Changbin!" A thin blonde haired man grabbed his hand and went to the sink. "This is why Chan never sent you to human world before."

The group hadn't noticed you yet.

"Uh-" A young man poked Hyunjin.

"What, Jeongin?" Hyunjin turned to him.

The young man, Jeongin, pointed at you.

Hyunjin looked, his lips parting slightly as he saw you.

"GUYS!" Chan shouted.

The other boys looked at him.

"Let's leave them..." He ushered them out of your apartment.

Changbin was still staring at his finger.

"Oh wait.." You grabbed a paper towel and got an ice cube before handing it to Changbin. "Hold it to your finger. Toaster burns are so scary" You teased.

The other men laughed as Chan finally got them out of your apartment.

You turned to look at Hyunjin.

He smiled at you. "You live alone?"

You shook your head no.

"Where's your roommate?" He asked, fiddling with the ice dispenser.

"She's not coming back until tomorrow evening.." You said.

Hyunjin nodded and hummed softly. "I guess I owe you an explanation."

"Chan needed the artifact to find the old merpeople palace. If he found it then... we could come to the surface when we wanted." He opened your fridge and took out a Tupperware of something, examining it before putting it back. "I didn't think we'd find it.. But we did... it looked so old. It was destroyed."

You stared at him. "We destroyed it all that time ago... Humans right?" You moved and sat on your couch.

He nodded, sitting beside you. "It was destroyed because a merman and a human woman were in love."

You looked at your hands. "Is that why Chan hated me?"

Hyunjin nodded. "He was scared the past would repeat itself."

Silence spanned for a moment and then he hugged to his chest.

"I missed you." He said softly.

"You don't even know that much about me.." you muttered.

"I'm here for a while." he said rubbing your shoulder. "I'll learn."

You huffed a small laugh. Looking up at him, you smiled slightly.

He smiled down at you and leaned down to kiss your forehead gently.

You sat up and leaned in, kissing him gently.

The tips of his ears turned turned red. You giggled at his flustered expression but he grabbed you, kissing you again. He hesitantly reached his arm around you, pulling you closer. His tongue pressed its way between your lips and you smiled, allowing him entry. He groaned softly and pulled you onto his lap.

You put your hands on his shoulders and bit your lip looking into his eyes. He smirked and kissed your neck, his hand splaying on the small of your back. He sucked a dark mark beside your jaw and you moaned softly, he hummed and moved lower, his hands moved under you shirt and lifted it over your head. He tossed it haphazardly, his lips meeting yours again as you tugged at his shirt.

"You could've just asked sweet girl." He pulled his short off and kissed you again, his hands moving behind you unclipping your bra, he tugged it off gently before his hands grabbed for your chest. You moaned and arched into him. He groaned softly as you began grinding against him.

He tugged at your pants and you lifted off his lap, he tugged it down as far as he could before he turned your legs in way where he could pull your pants and underwear off all at once. He smirked at you flustered expression.

You grabbed his crotch and he whined. "Not so cocky now huh?"

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, fondling your breasts as you fumbled to get his pants undone. When you finally got the zipper down, you pulled his pants and boxers just low enough to get out his cock. You stared at it for a moment.

"Y'know if I remember correctly, you said it was rude to stare a while back." Hyunjin teased.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him gently. "You're so dumb."

He laughed lightly and pulled you against him, rubbing his tip between your folds. "Are you ready?"

You looked into his beautiful eyes and nodded. He pulled you down and you moaned as your walls split around his manhood. He groaned when you throbbed around him, kissing your cheeks gently when you were fully sat on him. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to adjust to him.

He kissed your head gently and muttered. "Take your time."

You made a face and rocked against him gently.

Hyunjin gasped. You smiled. "Take your time." You mocked.

His eyes narrowed and his hands settled on your hips. "I guess you're good to go."

"Hyunjin-"

He lifted you slightly and brought you down on his cock hard. You squealed and he groaned. He repeated the motion again and again, "Why am I doing all the work here?" He moaned in your ear.

You huffed and pressed your hands against his chest for balance as you began riding him, one of his hands moved to hold your back while the other played with your right nipple as he sucked the left.

You moaned and gasped, "Hyunjin.."

"Huh?" He looked at you, his eyes half lidded, pupils blown wide. he huffed a small laugh. "Let me help you pretty girl." He flipped you over and pushed you into the couch, gripping your thighs as he fucked into you. "Fill you with my babies..."

Your pussy clenched.

"Oh you like that?" He moaned. "I'll fuck you full of my kids. This pussy is mine."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he hit the spongey area deep inside you. Hyunjin smirked and caged you in pushing your legs almost beside your head, pushing as deep into you as possible. You moaned loudly, loud enough you were scared you'd get a noise complaint from your neighbors. But you couldn't stop yourself as Hyunjin filled you again and again, reaching places you didn't even know was possible.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He asked, grunting softly.

You were too dazed to form a sentence but he grabbed your face and made you look straight at him.

"Answer me honey." He said lowly.

You nodded. "I'm going t-to cum."

He groaned and pressed his lips to yours, "Cum for me, sweet girl."

He rubbed your clit and you fell over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy clenched and spasmed around Hyunjin's cock. He let out a strained moan, following close behind. he gripped your thighs tightly definitely leaving bruises before he finally relaxed.

Your eyes went wide as you heard the door to your apartment unlocking. "Girl, I'm back early, but you will not believe, I saw the finest guy ever downstairs, he said his name was Cha-" Your roommate came around the corner and froze. "There's no way I sit on that fucking couch, BURN IT. GET A ROOM DAMNIT Y/N!"

"Do you understand what you've done Hyunjin?" Chan turned to him, eyes worried. "You could be killed for for this.. Y/n COULD BE KILLED FOR THIS! This is a massive mistake."

Hyunjin looked at Chan for a moment, "It's not a mistake I'll regret in this life or the next."

Chan groaned and facepalmed.

You were driving to the beach, it'd been a bit since you'd gone to see him, most of the time he came to you.

"Mommy."

"Huh?" You looked at the child in the back of the car using the rearview mirror.

"What's Daddy like?"

Your eyes met the child's sea green ones and you smiled. "You'll love him."

[catskets]

A more in-depth guide for creating visual novels, especially in the horror, horror-romance, etc circles

Some of you have seen my previous, smaller post on crafting visual novels, especially in this little space of Tumblr that a lot of us have found themselves in. Since that post took off, I've wanted to create a longer guide to help touch on some points I've thought about for the past few months.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel.

Please note that my advice does not fit everyone, and you may disagree with what I say. That's okay! It doesn't work for all. That's why there's thousands of resources out there.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE NEVER MADE A GAME

So, you have an idea for a huge visual novel. Horror, a shady and obsessive love interest, a little bit of woo-hooing. 100k words. Maybe a million. What is this, the 07th Expansion?

I notice a lot of people getting into visual novels are artists first. That's okay! I wanted to do art for games before I realized how much I enjoyed writing. And even less of you have probably touched Visual Studio. Again, perfectly okay. We all start somewhere.

My number one piece of advice? Make shitty games.

What does that mean?! My recommendation to those who have never done games is to make a bunch of shitty ones. Think of a theme, or hell, even join a game jam, where you make a game that fits a theme in a short amount of time. Spend about a week on your game. Focus on making something polished. Polish your mechanics. Polish your output.

I recommend, if you can, to make at least 4-6, if not more, kind of shitty games before hopping into longer projects. Making a game is a skill, just like art, just like writing. And game development is combining ALL of these together into one big soup being stirred by a skeleton hand puppet. You'll get into the rhythm and see what works for you.

It also helps you learn, perhaps, the second most important thing here: do you even like making games? There are cases out there where people have created video games (not saying visual novels) just for clout. That's no fun for you, that's no fun for your players. And you might go through this process and find that you don't like making games. That's completely okay! It's not for everyone.

Also, you can use these shittier games to gather an audience. I've built my audience because, for the past few years, I've been releasing games that slowly give me growing fields of eyes every day. A success story overnight is a rare one. It takes time. It's like building a brand, but you aren't a brand, you're an artist.

REV UP YOUR ENGINES!

Ren'py is the number one engine you will be recommended. It is very beginner-friendly, with lots of tutorials, assets on itch.io to use and download, and support. The engine comes with a few tutorials in the form of games, whose code you can freely browse. This is the engine I use most often. Most visual novels you see are made in this engine.

Twine is a text-based engine that most people use for interactive fiction. You can add images and audio, though, if you don't mind messing with HTML. I use Twine for text games and for outlining for my larger games. Ever played Degrees of Lewdity? Yeah, I know you have. Don't ask why. That game was made in Twine.

RPG Maker has multiple versions and has been used for exclusively VNs if you don't mind fucking around with plugins. It can definitely give your game a super unique feel. I recommend RPG Maker MV, since it has the most resources. This line of engines usually costs money, but it often goes on sale for under $5-$15.

People will recommend TyranoBuilder, but as a user and player, the lack of options and the format the games often come in is just...not fun to navigate. It advertises itself as little to no code, but it's often evident in the final results. Some good games have been made in it, though, so if you want to use it for prototyping/practice, you can. I'm not a fan, but that doesn't mean that fans don't exist! This engine costs money.

Not an engine, but check out Ink! Super useful scripting language that's used for more professional projects.

DEMOS, DEMOS, DEMOS

You've got an idea for a long-term project, and now you want to show it to the world! But wait, wait, don't do that yet!

When should I start advertising my game? This is a personal opinion, but I say that you should not start advertising your game until 50-60% of your demo is complete. Why? As I've discussed with some fans of indie VNs, they can name quite a few projects that have been in the "working on the demo" age for 1-2+ years. I've been in the Kickstarter MMO circles. If you, making a single-player experience with little mechanics to balance and polish (aka a visual novel), are taking that long on a demo, I am going to assume the game is not coming out. There are some games I have seen out here that have been in "working on the demo" phase where I haven't seen a single ounce of what the project will look like.

What should I put in my demo? The purpose of a demo is to showcase the mechanics and the vibes and the mechanics of your game. It's a demonstration. In my last post, I pointed to the Dead Space 2 demo that was showcased at E3 (RIP), that takes place about 2 hours into the story and shows how enemies are defeated, some animations, bits of the story, etc. Usually, because it's less about mechanics and more about vibes, visual novel demos showcase a certain percentage of the full thing (5-10%.) Can you showcase the vibe of the game here and what players should expect? If not, show off another portion.

How long should I work on my demo? Before, I said 3-4 months. That can be true, that can also not be true. Think about how long the demo takes you in proportion to how long the actual game should take you. Don't put too much effort. The demo is to showcase the vibe. It's to see how much the public and fans may enjoy the game.

My game is 18+, what should I do? Make a splash screen when the game is downloaded to let players know your game is 18+. If it's going to contain sexual content, you can hide it with itch.io's adult content filter. Write it on the page itself that your game is for adults only. Don't put your demo behind a paywall. This is genuinely ridiculous. The purpose of a demo is to showcase what a game is like before a player purchases it. That defeats the point of a demo. I've seen this happen, and it discourages players from approaching, especially because most demos never make it past the demo phase. So...I'm paying you $10 for 2-3k words of a game that may never come out?

Should I make a social media for my game? YES! Go for it. These anchors are how people will find your game. Make a Tumblr and open that ask box. Make a Twitter. Go to BluSky. Advertising is not bad. Some YouTubers even take e-mail suggestions from developers. Feel free to shoot your shot. The worst they can do is not respond.

HOW TO SET UP YOUR ITCH.IO PAGE:

Getting your itch.io to a presentable state can be very challenging! There's many ways to do it. I highly recommend using this page image guide for learning how to size your images to make your page pop!

Itch.io themselves has suggested to not publish a page until the game or demo is released. You can make the page and keep it as a draft, but do not publish it until you're ready!

Your cover image is the image that will appear in the search of the website, on any front pages, in collections, and on your profile. What have I seen that works? Key art of one of the characters up close and the title of the game! If you can make it a .GIF, do it! Bitches love .GIFs!

Itch.io recommends 3-5 screenshots on your page. I recommend 1 of these 5 be a .GIF that shows how gameplay feels. This is effective, even for visual novels!

Write a 3-5 sentence summary about your game for the description. What is your story about? What is the draw?

DO NOT BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS GOING TO SAY "This is not like other visual novels. It doesn't have that cheesy this or that or-" No one cares. Genuinely. You're putting down other games in your genre and elevating yourself to the pompous level.

TAG YOUR GAME! itch.io gives you a list of tags to choose from when you go to tag. DON'T USE THIS! Try to go for more specific tags. Arimia has a very good guide on how to use itch.io's tagging system to your advantage.

GENERAL GAME MAKING ADVICE

SCOPE KNIFE IS SUPER USEFUL! Everyone makes games that are way over their workload. It's okay to cut out features and add them later. Prioritize making a finished game before hitting those stretch goals.

PLAN, PLAN, PLAN! Writing outlines is super helpful. I use Twine for my outlines, because you can connect your passages together and make really well-thought webs.

IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP! Whether it's from friends, professionals, or anything in-between. They can help with assets, editing, etc.

HONE YOUR SKILLS OUTSIDE OF GAMES! Write some poetry. Do some sketches everyday. Improve on your craft to improve your games

MUSIC IS HARD. THERE ARE RESOURCES. Most of us aren't musicians. That's okay. Make sure the music you get for your game is allowed to be used. You can use anything non-commercial if your game will not cost money or donations. I try to do songs in the public domain or free to use overall with credit if I don't have a musician. Consult the Creative Commons website if you're unsure how you're supposed to use a certain piece of music. If you don't use the right stuff, not only can it put you in legal trouble, but it can put streamers in hot water if they play your game and they can't upload the video because music is copyrighted.

PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR UI. Wanna know an easy way to get your game to look more professional? Edit the damn UI for your game. Make a new textbox, even if it's just a black box. Change the font. Eventually, players recognize the defaults and patterns of games made in certain engines and may attribute a lack of UI changes to a developer being lazy. It doesn't take very long to change the colors around and move text! Please do it to add a little pop to your game.

DEADLINES ARE AWESOME. Not everyone works well under pressure, but if you give yourself an infinite amount of time to make something, it'll never get done. Set goals for yourself for how much you can work on something.

IF YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP, GIVE UP. Making things is hard, especially long-term. Emergencies happen, jobs happen, life happens. Let your fans know that a project isn't happening anymore. Don't leave them in the dark. You don't need to tell strangers your medical history or anything, but transparency + honesty are really hot traits. You should use those in your creative work. This is one reason why I advocate for not publishing or advertising things until you know it's stable.

SHOWCASING YOUR CONTENT

People love to see WIPs for games! This is what the devlog is good for! A devlog is a post where a developer talks about and showcases some things happening in the game? What can you add to your dev log?

PERCENTAGES! How much of the artwork is done? How much of this character's route is done?

SNEAK PEEKS AT ARTWORK AND SPRITES!

GIFS! GIRLS LOVE GIFS!

Anything else to showcase your game's content! Posting consistent updates retains and even gains a fan's attention for your work.

RUNNING YOUR TUMBLR

You've joined us, and you've made a Tumblr for your blog! Link it on the itch.io page, so people can come find you after playing your awesome demo!

Do I have to respond to every ask? No. It's your blog. Delete whatever asks you want.

I got a hate comment! What do I do? Delete it and move on. I have a more detailed section on hate below.

I want to interact with [blog]! How do I do that? Reach out to the devs for silly little collabs. If you come onto a developer slightly headstrong, they might feel you are being abrasive or using them for content.

If people make fan content, interact with it! Encourage it! Reblog it. Show your love.

OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS

PROFESSIONALISM IS KEY. These may be pet projects, but you want to appear some level of professional on your actual itch.io page.

Being dismissive of player and fan complaints or criticisms will make you appear childish.

If your game is broken, fix it. I have been told by some amateur developers to ignore game-breaking bugs. It does not make me, a player, want to engage with your content. It seems messy and unfinished.

With the above point, it's 100% okay to have bugs and errors upon release. Every developer and their brood mother has. To decrease these issues, get playtesters. Friends can play your games, spot any errors, and help you point out things that can be improved upon. I recommend having playtesters at every stage of development.

Make sure your game runs before you publish it. Please.

You can still be silly and giddy! There's no reason to not be, especially when you get positive comments! The point of this is to not be outright rude to potential players and fans.

IGNORE HATE COMMENTS. In this case, a hate comment is a statement that contains no constructive criticism and are only here to be insulting or malicious. People are going to leave you with actual piles of dog shit in your ask box. They are trying to provoke you. Giving hate comments any attention, even if you're there to "clap back" proves that they got to you, even if you don't take the hate to heart. They will continue to pester you. Delete any hate comments and ignore them completely. Laugh about them with friends in a private setting, sure.

THINK BEFORE YOU REFERENCE! I know one big thing in this community is adding references to other games in yours, such as plushies of other characters or putting them on posters. The best thing you can do it ask the developer before adding this. How would you feel if some random person you've never met put your character in a video game? Most of us would feel weird and potentially violated. Open communication with devs is awesome. I am usually okay with it as long as someone asks for permission.

As a complete aside, I prefer more tasteful references to other games as opposed to 523482346 plushies and posters. These have been slightly overdone. Why not theme a candy after another game's character? Maybe your characters know each other.

OTHER RESOURCES I RECOMMEND

Devtalk is a server dedicated to independent visual novel creators. You can find jobs, resources, advice, talks, and, like, everything there! Devtalk is super useful. Everyone in there is so cool. They have a really great and comprehensive list of resources that I could not even begin to cover.

Visual Novel Design is a great YouTuber. No other words, check the guy out!

Ren'py and whatever other engine you're using has documentation that's super useful to follow.

Arimia not only has amazing VN resources, especially for marketing, but she also just has? Amazing games that you should check out?

And for a shameless self plug, I'm the lead of Sacred Veins, a collective of devs creating narrative games, whether it be horror, humor, romance, or everything in-between. Come hang out with us!

[moonsaver]

hesperus

The evening star calls home. Ruin is your saving grace.

Tw/Cw; Suggestive/explicit scene, gender neutral reader, implications of religious themes (not great), dubious morals(?), reader is a COUGARRRR (implied), Sunday loves older authority figures (guilty), just guess at this point. Also reader is implied to be like a parental figure to Firefly. OOC because i love making canon characters my own ocs.

Pairings: Stellaron Hunter!Reader x Sunday (romantic), (hinted) Firefly x tb, (platonic) Firefly x reader.

A/n: 5.8k words, i hate this fic, enjoy whatever whatever.

——

“Will you be okay?”

The small girl looks up at you - trepidation and concern visible in her eyes.

“I should be asking you that, lovely.” You smile, gently tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was beautiful, in your opinion. You often verbalized how beautiful it looked, mentioning it as silver under a blue moon.

Firefly still had concern in her eyes, dampened by your words, her hand clasped over the middle of her collarbone.

“I'll make it.. I think.” Her determination made way through uncertainty. You hum, smiling at her.

“You will, as shall I. If you ever need, I will be there.”

You wink, making the young girl smile a bit. The small, almost sad smile, still breaks through her worry.

“I've heard they've been on the lookout for us. I'm..”

She didn't have to continue. You already knew. Your hand comes up and pats her head, gently.

“We'll be fine. Go on, my sweet.”

You smile, softly. It seems to melt away the rest of her trepidation.

She takes a moment. Then nods. Worry and uncertainty now embers as determination fires through her eyes.

You wave her off, as she makes her way.

You are being watched. But you are aware.

–———

You hum, swirling the champagne glass in your fingers, watching the bubbles rise to the top, and stick to the edges in clusters.

“Interrupting your break, am I?”

The man beside you laughs, softly. Almost forced. He doesn't respond further.

“I'm guessing your weekends are spent tending to your white coat.”

You tilt your head, looking at him, a small smile playing on your lips. He doesn't bother acknowledging you.

“I give it to the dry cleaners, actually.”

“Ah, busy man. I suppose I should leave you be.”

“..I have an inkling you won't.”

His wings bristle slightly. His halo shines beautifully – a sort of warning that hangs over his head. Sharp edges, blinding gold. Angels crafted to deter the evil.

But you aren't phased. Perhaps it is the alcohol.

“There was a story, I remember. If you're up for it, of course. It's quite old.”

“Ah, an anecdote from your life?”

“I'm not an ancient tablet.”

“I wasn't aware.”

You chuckle, setting your glass down, the glass base clinking as you do.

You take a brief moment; simply to compose and immerse into the present moment. You look over at the man, allowing yourself to shamelessly scan him despite the unreturned glancing or staring.

“Owls and Ravens were once friends. And both had snow-like feathers. As pristine as white clouds on the expanse of a sky.”

His hair is soft, blue and hazy under the warm light of the bar, shimmering the slightest bit. He shifts in his seat, perhaps to get more comfortable.

“They decided, then, to paint each other, since nothing else was there to do. The Raven painted the Owl diligently, in patterns and dots. And the Owl sat patiently through the process.”

His eyes are piercing, golden, yet they rest, conserved and distant.

The alcohol hazed your vision, smoothing out the edges like a loving artist's strokes against the canvas of his visage.

Your fingers circle the rim of your glass, returning your gaze, watching the bubbles clear.

“But when the Raven's turn came, it never sat still. And as the Owl painted, it painted over the Raven entirely, marring it's feathers as black as obsidian.”

“What a shame.”

Your foot playfully taps the side of his, making his leg stop jittering up and down.

“Indeed.”

He hums, his gaze temporarily flitting from your foot to your hand, placed on your knee. He almost acknowledges you.

The background is a warm blur against your view of him, almost as though he's the sole performer on a podium – the light seemed to belong to him, and him only. 

“You have a daughter, am I correct to assume?”

His fingers tap, rhythmically, like patters of rain.

“No, just.. a friend. But I consider her as such.”

“She left in quite a hurry.”

“She did, didn't she?”

“has the dream not been to her liking? In the case something has gone awry, The Family hopes–”

“Oh, you know, kids these days. They see someone they like and skitter like a fool.”

He doesn't seem to take your words in stride. But you smile.

“I see.”

You stretch, spinning in the small loveseat, planting your feet down as you rise,

“See someone you like?”

“Already got a view.”

Sunday finally acknowledges you - his eyes trailing your form as you walk away.

——–

“I love you!”

The voice crackles from the plush toy's broken voice box, as Sunday peers down at it. He doesn't move – idly looking at it, and yet not bothering to pick it up.

He stares, for a few more moments, noting the grime and the tears at the seams. The small stains of probably candy or something sweet sticking to its “paws”. The bear had worn down inexplicably from love. The very love it spoke at every press. And from abandonment. He found himself wondering at the fleeting childhood passing by like a reeling ribbon from a child's hands, as if the bear had been dropped unwillingly, and had not been allowed to reunite with it's owner again. A strange dilemma – not alive, yet full of the most humanly feeling. So full, infact, the cotton burst at the seams, and it's button nose was dull. 

With careful movements, Sunday picks it up, by its collar behind its “neck” [if you could even say it had one]. His hand holds it at a bit of a distance.

“A fan of soft toys, Mr. Dreammaster?’

Your voice teases him. You watch his arm slightly falter, imagining a plethora of emotions on his face you'd love to pull at like strings of a tapestry falling apart.

“..I am the Head, of The Family. The Dreammaster would be–”

“It's alright. I was joking.”

“I wasn't.”

His voice is still, flat. There is no semblance of emotion.

“Feisty, today. Was your toy missing for a long time? Sour about how it looks, hm?”

Sunday breathes out; an amicable replacement for a drawn out sigh. He turns to you, still holding the bear at a distance, staying quiet.

“Now, that is no way to hold a gentleman.” 

You walk forward, and gently grasp the bear in both of your hands. Sunday's eyes flicker to your gloved hands, as though in his own curiosity of your lack of concern in terms of hygiene.

“There. Better. You ought to be respectful to your elders.”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. I should have bowed when you spoke to me.”

He bows slightly in jest, his hand on his heart,

“Hm, that's right.”

Sunday smiles, looking up at you from his bowed state. You seem to pay more mind to the bear in your hands, an array of similar thoughts in your head as you process it's appearance.

“Do you want to take it with you? Who knows, you might come to like it.”

“Please, that's no way to ask someone to get rid of it.”

You eye his non-faltering, feigned innocent smile. He simply closes his eyes and continues smiling.

“Well, turns out it has a nametag. It won't hurt to stitch it up a bit and return it back.”

He hums, watching you fix the bear's little dishevelled bowtie.

And then he clears his throat, catching your attention.

You tilt your head, curiously looking at him.

“Yes?”

Sunday points to his own tie, slightly miffed. You chuckle,

“Well, now. Whoever shall fix that?”

“Perhaps an elder. They know better than I.”

You roll your eyes, setting the bear down gently onto the side, removing your gloves and fixing his tie.

———

“Cozy, cozy.”

Kafka purrs into the phone, the rasp of her voice not blurred by the digital medium, as you stare in the distance at the blue-haired halovian.

“Kafka, I'm gonna have to call you back soon.”

“Just when things were about to get interesting..”

You roll your eyes – she can't see it, but she chuckles, knowing what your silence meant.

“Alright, goodluck. Looks like you'll need it.”

You hang up before she has anything else to say, pulling out a compact mirror, and adjusting your appearance. Just as you snap it shut, a small creak of the loveseat beside you indicates his occasional arrival.

“You're late. And I hoped a man of your stature was more punctual than that.”

You tease, watching his eyes never meet yours. Only this time – you catch it. He swallows, rather thickly, watching his adam's apple bob as he does. 

“I don't recall having scheduled any meetings with you.”

“Oh?”

His reply is curt, almost condescending if you weren't the type to brush it off.

“Seems my last story hasn't melted the ice yet.”

“Not an inch.”

“D'aw, alright. Wanna hear more, lovely?”

His wings – not his ears – twitch slightly at the pet name. You notice the faint rush of blood to the tip of his ears.

He doesn't answer, choosing to be chaste in silence. You huff out a chuckle,

“Alright, drink's on me then. I'll tell you something interesting.”

——

In your travels as a stellaron hunter, you've assorted many into repulsions and desires that draw you in.

To fast thrills, versus the indignancy of a dragging present. You find yourself drawn to the bright lights of a night bar, versus the blinding array of a scorching sun. To shallow connections in lieu of heavy and complex relationships. Attachment would be your downfall. Ruin is your saving grace.

However, you find yourself looking for your repulsions.

The grey haired girl stands in front of you once again, shuffling from foot to foot, her eyes low and shy as her hands fiddle with a stray lock of her own hair. You eye her for a moment, before humming, and gently coax  her to face you by placing an index finger under her chin and raising it up.

“Little bug, what's on your mind?”

“Um..”

“Script not to your liking?”

You watch her mumble under her breath, her face slightly tilting down as she resists the urge to tuck it away again. As she does, you gaze from over the top of her head; a familiar blue haired man walking into the distance, followed by panicked coworkers. It seems he will be amiss once again, for today.

“I couldn't.. tell them.”

“The trailblazer?”

She hums, nodding.

You huff out a chuckle, patting her head.

“You have your chances, do you not? Rest easy, your time will come.”

She visibly relaxes, her shoulders slightly dropping, and her hands leaving the lock of hair to return to her sides. Her eyes are still low, as though scanning the pavement under your feet, as she contemplates. You watch her bite the inside of her cheek before she raises her face again and nod.

There is a fire in her eyes.

It is almost like the Sun.

You are almost afraid of it.

“I'll do it. As many times as I need to.”

You smile, leaning back onto the cold wall behind you.

“We should go shopping after your next attempt.”

You find your jaw clenching after the words slip from your mouth. Your repulsions are your weakness. Yet you still seem to subconsciously seek them out. It's a testament to your human nature.

She nods, smiling at you. She stays in her place for a moment, before she speaks again,

“I could.. ask Kafka to go with you if I don't make it.”

You turn and glance back at your usual spot at the open bar‐empty without you and the man you've been missing lately. Your smile only widens at her perception. Clever girl.

“No need. I'd like some silence anyways.”

She seems a bit unconvinced, as she continues to gaze at you for a brief moment more, scanning you for any deception. Out of worry than any ulterior motives, unlike the woman she mentioned a while ago.

Truthfully, you were lonely. This is what your ruin does to you, regardless of how it saves you. A few conversations lure you into a false sense of companionship, regardless of however brief it must have been, even encouraging you to divulge more than necessary if desperate enough. You find your eyes flitting at anything the colour of pale blue. At anything that glows gold under a light.

You chuckle and wave,

“I'll be fine, honeybee. Go, be on your way, now.”

She nods, smiling at the pet name. 

You find your repulsions carry you elsewhere, the bar fading into the background as you walk the opposite direction, once all spying eyes have cleared. You find your eyes flitting to find him. However, no matter how blessed your vision may be, the absence left behind can only be described, not pointed to. Ultimately, it is your mind that hinges on the assessment of what you have lost, or gained. 

But it seems this time your heart has taken the hit – a burrowing feeling between the slats and the depths of your ribs as though an animal had sprung from it, and left it behind as a husk of what it once was. 

–——

Sunday tuts, his fingers taking a bold graze of your hair, sliding and gently tugging out a lock.

“You ought to take better care of your hair.”

You stay silent for a brief moment, and it's apparent to him aswell that you hadn't expected him to do something so.. casual, considering his formalities. He takes his time to address it in your period of silence.

“I simply noticed and commented on it, no need to look like a deer caught in headlights.”

His eyes flicker to yours for a moment, and avert immediately. You watch his hand fall to his side, his fingers slightly shaking. You can't tease him on it – it would be hypocritical. A slight, excited sort of feeling sparks in your stomach.

You lick your lips, and take a sip of your beverage, feeling your senses dry up a bit. The liquid instead burns at the dryness of your throat.

“You're into haircare, hm?”

You reply, ignoring the brief silence and the tension it carried.

“Often. It comes with taking care of my wings.”

“Ah, I see.”

Silence once again. Unlike the pleasant one you two usually shared, this felt different; it felt electric. Thick, a bit suffocating. 

“I like your piercings.”

His hand, previously resting on the counter, subconsciously raises up to fiddle with his earring,

“Thank you.”

You stay silent again, almost inviting in the tension that causes him to graze his teeth against the inside of his cheek, a step away from chewing on the sides of it.

You break the ice first.

“Do you prefer gold or silver?”

“Silver.”

He stays silent for a moment. He's often found his mind wandering when it comes to you – wondering how various adornments would suit you.

“Really? Didn't take you as a silver type.’

“Ah, about me?”

“Who else?”

He felt silver suited you; more than your complexion, he simply felt.. drawn to it. Like the faint glimmering of a moon's reflection on a lake. You were someone who's depths were mysterious, almost alluring to him.

You stay silent, too. The question hangs in the air for a brief moment.

You watch his shaky fingers rub slightly at his nose. You've noticed a lot of things about him. The tips of his nose and ears that turns red a bit too easily. The faint fluttering of his ghostly blue lashes. The twinkle of gold – not just of his halo, but the various imprints of it on him; jewellery, and the woven golden threads of his pristine suit.

His eyes follow to your hand, on the bar's countertop, swallowing thickly again.

It seems despite everything, he's still a fool in the grasp of his shame.

He looks away,

“I prefer gold.”

——

Sentience is a curse, he thinks.

His fingers tap and circle the perimeter of the frail glass, a clink accompanying each one. Waves form on the surface of the shimmery liquid from the small force.

Morality is a cruel beast. Because it is unrecognisable. And it knows you.

It follows you, through your ages. A small, ghastly and putrid thing, akin to a shameful, big animal. Hunched over, following you like a chore. Like a lost, stubborn child. It grows with you. It becomes bolder. It becomes aware. It has your voice. Soon, the mind caves and buckles into the grasp of the dastardly beast, that grows like uncontrolled weed on a substrate. It grows and envelops. And it tells you – can you truly allow yourself to do this? And the answer is never yes. Morality is a curse. A big ugly thing, unafraid to show it's face. It fills the room when silence staves arguments in the form of chastened tension.

Yet he finds himself, almost seeking it out. Searching the cruel shackle of his morality, almost wanting it to shame him into hiding. 

Your place is empty. He notes. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, fluttering lashes coming to a halt. He envisions the faint waft of your perfume, the dainty clicking of your fingers over the rim of the glass, the cheeky tap against his agitated foot. Sunday would find himself already ashamed, if he'd outright admitted he'd actually been staring at you, from his periphery. You overshadow the ugly beast, drawing out a sort of soft, beautiful serenity with a hollow voice, and an elusive persona. 

Angels are, by design, made to stave evil. Somehow, however, it seems he has attracted one. A devil in the form of you. And yet, like a man yet to feel the cold relief of forgiveness on his lips, he wanders aimlessly in his mind, as though in search of you. Sin is unbeknownst, ignorance is plaguing, and yet he revels in it. Even for a moment.

He huffs out a laugh. A novel turn of events. Its his turn to wait for you, isn't it?

Yet it seems easy to do, simply imagining your form beside him once again, telling him another strange tale, either for your own amusement or to reel him in. He disregards the source. His weary face finds an ache, a pleasant one, as it pulls into a faint smile. 

As sentience drives a being to deviate from instinct, his awareness has driven him to exhaustion. Yet you are a double edged sword – a balm for his exhaustion yet endlessly pushing him to caution.

——

“You've been gone too long, haven't you?”

You croon, a cheeky smile on your face, Sunday bashfully keeping his eyes locked to his drink. Despite everything, he cannot meet your eyes.

“I have.”

For the first time, the pastor is of the guilty. The devil has come to exorcise him. But exorcism does not mean erasure of sins, neither does it mean cleanly cutting off the strings that attach one to them. You may as well weave more of these strings, and craftily ground him to you.

“How will you make it up to me?’

You drawl, leaning on the palm of your hand, speech slightly slurred from the alcohol.

“..How would you like me to?”

His gaze is trained on his hand – gripping the fragile neck of the glass with a bit too much force. 

You hum, twirling your own glass, watching the liquid rush and bubble at the edges.

“Tell me a secret.”

He swallows. 

A secret?

“Is that.. truly what you desire?”

“Mhm.”

You take a sip of your beverage. Sunday is relieved, yet almost disappointed.

“..very well.”

He breathes in, and takes a moment to compose himself. His eyes flit to you, a small flicker of boldness somehow making him hover over a line he dares not cross. His gaze wanders to your lips, the slight crinkle beside your eyes, the squish of your cheek against your palm. He eyes your clothing. 

A stellaron hunter.

It was as though he was placing himself as the bait in a trap. As though he was the one caught in the trap. What else could he complain about? Except for that of which he can't admit – his unbecoming is his fault.

His fault for unreeling like a ribbon under your daft fingers. He finds himself wanting to spill like an ink bottle, the surface tension of the liquid keeping it from just flowing over the thick, glass borders.

And he breathes in your perfume. He breathes in the expanse of the night's air. And he spills. He spills so cautiously, so quietly, as though he is afraid of staining his own lips with the tenacity of his words.

He has many secrets. Most of which were handed to him, more akin to an heirloom than an actual personal matter. More akin to a treacherous contract than whispered confessions. How he wishes this was a confession to you, than an unveiling over his disgusting innards.

But you listen, unwavering. A lazy smile still gracing your lips, stained with grapes and understanding. It is as though you were stained in so many ways, his words are unflinchingly simple to you. It becomes a confession, rather than a revelation at the altar of the cartilage shell of your ear.

And you keep it. You keep it like a lost prayer. Like a silent vow. 

“..want me to whisper it to you?”

You return the sentiment, offering a request. It seems you are no guiltier than he innocent. 

———

“Can't convince you, can I?”

“Not at all.” Please don't try, anyway. He lets those words die on his tongue.

You huff out a laugh, a bit forceful, as you look away from him, folding your arms.

“Shit, you don't pull any punches, huh?”

A pang of guilt hits him at the slight hurt in your forced laugh. But he can't be deterred.

Not that you were going to, considering Elio's script. It's on you, really. But you didn't expect it to actually hurt.

You watch the empty audience seats, his back turned to it.

“It's a pity. I wish I could have seen this theatre when it was filled to the brim with people.”

“..it would have been an extraordinary view. It always is.”

“You look forward to it?”

…

“Not anymore.”

You hum, your teeth nipping at the skin of your lips. The quietness of the theatre is exemplified at the rustle of your clothes, as you turn to look at his back. The light of the podium makes him look beautiful. His halo is almost blinding. He looks like the Sun. You'll be lead to your death, at this rate. Wasn't Ruin supposed to be your saving grace? Here you are – disguised as both Icarus and the blinding Sun.

Sunday stands still, a cleancut form, unable to face you. You can stare at his back all day. But the pain resounding in your chest from your heart hurting strings you back into the present. You breathe deeply, and sigh,

“Alright. Goodluck, then.”

With one step forward, you disappear as quietly as you came. It's a trick familiar to your group; as Sunday knows. But even then, he braces himself to greet the empty space you leave behind, his heart sinking further at the loss of your presence. 

———

Sunday finds the shackles of punishment more liberating than death on his knees.

He learns this in isolation. He learns many things in isolation.

He learns how to miss you.

Phantoms and taunts of your words echoing the empty expanse of his empty mind, wafting through the many whispers of the stellaron that plagued his mind. 

His finger twitches upwards, when his lifeless eyes imagine the faint illusion of your affection, grazing fingertips over his knuckles. You hadn't actually ever gotten so physically close to him, but he indulges himself. He imagine the soft sensations of your lips on his jaw, trailing up to ghost the shell of his.

“Miss me, Mr. Dreammaster?”

He shivers at the illusion. Your voice is close yet far; reverberating in the hollow wasteland of his mind like a single thread of gold.

A lot. He wants to say. He swallows the words, and for the second time, the fruit lodges in his throat. To admit is to acknowledge the sin.

“Make it up to me, Mr. Dreammaster?"

A knock. Your phantom, agonisingly so, vanishes like a mist casted away by a gush of wind. But the interruption is far from divine.

Jade, from the IPC. 

——

Like gently settling fog, rumours stagnate over a crowd. The whispers and the hushed words are not elusive to your ears.

Your phone buzzes, but you ignore it. Firefly is accompanied by Silver wolf, you wouldn't have to worry.

As much as your thrills lure you to the lavish party to celebrate the Nameless, your repulsions seem stronger. 

You sip your beverage, tipping the glass up, but your eyes stay on your phonescreen. You hadn't ever texted Sunday, and neither had he texted you. You two hadn't even called. There was no history. It would be as though you could keep your phone open for hours and no one would bat an eye. Even for the most prestigious of those in stature would have to occasionally practise patience when it came to him. Who would you be? The vague, elusive stellaron hunter who's suspected of causing trouble wherever they go? Like a stray piece of pebble that's easy to disregard and kick away, who is he to ever glance at you?

And so you stare, measuring in silence, the strange stirring of feelings in your stomach. You could blame it on your beverage, but you hadn't drank enough really, mainly because you couldn't even bother keeping it down.

Buzz

You blink, watching a notification pop up, and promptly retreat as you click on Sunday's contact again.

He messaged you?

No, it couldn't be. It must be one of The Family's members.

You push yourself off of the wall you'd been warming with your back, and take a small step forward in contemplation, your eyebrows knitted as you stared.

Why would they send you to his office's location?

——

Sunday breathes in, the cool, familiar air of his office hitting the back of his throat as he does.

There is a certain pleasure in ordinary things. 

The patience of a ceramic cup that stays warm with coffee. The smooth crafting of the surface of a wooden desk. The ambience of the air conditioner accompanying the steady scribbling of a pointed tip on paper. The comfort in reclining back in a cushioned office chair. Things he may as well soon never come across again.

He swallows, his eyelids doing little to shield the overhead lighting of his office, but still keeping them closed to simply savor the feeling.

A shadow emerges, obscuring the light from his eyes, casting a shade on his face. It's soon accompanied by the faint wafting of perfume.

“Miss me, Mr. Sunday?”

This wasn't Ena's dream. But for a moment, he could have considered it.

You're leaned over from behind him, watching down at his face as he opens his eyes. He opens his mouth, but decides to stay silent.

Your hand comes up to gently cup the side of his face, your palm pressing beside his eye, fingers reaching the bottom of his chin. Your thumb lingers around the edge of his mouth. You both stare at each other, simply noticing the dilation of each other's pupils.

“It's just Sunday.”

He tells you. There is no animosity, no hostility in his voice. It's almost a whisper, as though he's unsure if you are real. His own hand reaches up, and cautiously, his fingers graze the side of your face.

Your skin is warm. Your relaxed smile widens as he does so. He shivers.

“Savouring your final moments?”

He smiles.

“I am.”

You stay that way for a moment, before slowly leaning back and standing up straight. Sunday gets up from his chair and moves to stand across you.

“Couldn't let me know where you were a little earlier?”

You tease him, but he can sense the slight irk in your voice.

“My deepest apologies. How can I make it up to you?”

You hum, spinning on your heel and walking around his office, fingers grazing the edge of his desk as you walk beside it, and to the front. You turn, leaning on it, your back facing him.

“A secret won't be enough this time, y'know?”

He watches your hand fiddle with a few trinkets on his desk, your other hand supporting you. He makes his way to you again, rounding the desk, and stands in front of you,

“What may help?”

You hum again, but he knows better. You're feigning your contemplation.

You smile, still leaned back against his desk.

“I wouldn't know. Something special before we depart?”

“Hm.. is that so?”

He steps closer, his hands placing themselves right beside your waist on the desk behind you, caging you in. His eyes never leave yours.

“Mhm.”

You smile, looking at him.

He leans in, eyes falling lower, on your lips, as he asks,

“Now, what shall I do?”

His warm breath fans over the lower half of your face, and the small exposed bits of your collarbone.

“Perhaps do as your seniors advise you.”

“Hm? Who?”

You grab him by the collar of his shirt, push off of the table and swerve him, pushing him against the desk as you lean in,

“You can listen, can't you?”

He breathes in, slightly winded at the switched positions.

“I might need guidance.”

You huff out a laugh,

“I'll guide you, so listen well.”

You lean in, your lips almost brushing his, but pull away when you sense he might lean in, his lips stay slightly parted as he watches you.

“You need to be patient, okay?”

He almost doesn't hear you, swallowing as he eyes your lips, his abdomen constricting, feeling something tighten and coil.

“I will.”

You smile. And lean in, testing his resolve,

“Do as I say, alright?”

His lips twitch, and his breath hitches. He waits, agonisingly, as your lips brush against his, but don't press. He whispers out,

“I will.”

.

“Good.”

You finally press your lips against his, and it's as though a river rushes through his veins, as he eagerly kisses you back. His breathing is heavy, his hands unsure as they hold onto your waist, but you're made aware of his desperation as his nails unconsciously dig into your flesh, through the thin fabric of your shirt. You suck in a breath at the feeling, and he almost moans, his wings bristling and tensing as he desperately tries to deepen the kiss, almost panting into it as your tongue brushes against his lower lip, eagerly parting them open.

Sunday can taste the alcohol mixed with your sweet saliva, causing his head to spin a bit, but instead he presses further, his tongue eagerly lapping at every inch of your mouth. You pull away for a moment, but his mouth follows close, kissing the side of your mouth and trailing them down the column of your throat. You breathe in, shivering as you close your eyes for a moment, each wet kiss electrifying and going straight down to your core. 

He mumbles your name against your skin, his tongue laving at a spot before his teeth nip at it, causing you to gasp. Your hands crawl up to the base of his head, one pushing into his fluffy hair and fingers entangling within the strands.

“It's okay.”

You breathe out, but he shakes his head slightly.

His tongue presses against the base of your throat, and drags up all the way to the corner of your mouth, before his lips envelop yours again in a heated kiss. He parts, panting,

“I wanted to see you. Every second I spent there..”

His hands run up and down your sides, feverish at the contact they'd been restrained from,

“I know.” You say, looking at his dishevelled state, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

"I wanted to return to you."

You feel his hands slide down and rest on your hips, his knee nudging between yours, before he slides up further and pushes his thigh at your core, making you jolt for a moment at the contact. His hands stay firm on your hips, almost pressing you down onto his thigh. Your hands clench at the fabric of his shirt as the contact shoots up your spine, making you arch slightly into him.

He breathes in, leaning down, his lips graze the shell of your ear, hot breath coming out in puffs as he whispers,

“I'm yours, aren't I? So go ahead and prove it.”

You smile.

“Alright, then.”

–——

“[Name]!”

Firefly's voice calls out to you, and you smile, looking over her winded appearance.

But you weren't in the state to complain. You looked similar, if not even worse. Your shirt was slightly wrinkly, tie askew, your hair patted down in a rush. You hope no one noticed you wobble.

“are you okay?”

Firefly would be more worried instead of confused if not for the wide smile you've donned. She glances over her shoulder at the bustling crowd, her eyes almost searching for someone, before returning to you.

“I'm alright. Your hair.. seems exciting.”

You comment, and Firefly blushes, patting down her own hair.

“I'll tell you what happened later, but.. we should leave now.”

You nod,

“Silverwolf?”

Her hologram appears without a second's delay, her annoyed resting face almost lovingly familiar to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard.”

You both chuckle slightly at her.

The party ends on a positive note.

———

“Quite a pleasant surprise.”

“Greetings, to you too.”

You smile, your virtual form glitching slightly. Although Himeko doesn't disregard you as she does Kafka, she's still wary of you, as are the rest of the crew.

“Settling in well, chicken boy?”

Himeko cuts in,

“What do the Stellaron hunters need now?”

You chuckle, softly,

“Miss Himeko, it's been a while, hasn't it? Regardless, I sincerely apologise, but these questions are solely for Mr. Sunday here.”

Her face shifts, almost unnoticeable, clearly displeased by your words. She sighs, and glances back at the new recruit. The rest of the crew follow her suit.

Mr. Yang's voice flows in,

“Perhaps there remains any unfinished business with the stellaron hunters? It would be wise to address it sooner than later.”

“None of the sort, Mr. Yang.” You reassure, hands neatly folded, as you smile,

“Just a few, simple questions. Think of it as a.. survey, of sorts.”

“A survey?”

Sunday steps forward, facing your hologram directly. You would have blushed if it wasn't virtual.

“3 questions. That is all.”

“..alright.”

You sense his hesitation, slowly melding into trust as his thoughts process. Although relationships between your factors are complex and messy, it is you that's asking him.

“What is your name?”

“..I am Sunday.”

“Where are you stationed?”

“The Astral Express.”

“Are you happy?”

The question makes him hesitate, words stuck in his throat like a grape seed for only a moment.

“..yes. i am.”

You smile. Sunday faintly returns the expression. After a brief moment, you turn to Himeko,

“Kafka will speak to you shortly, Ms. Himeko.”

And you vanish. Just as mysteriously as you'd come into his life.

[luna-loveboop]

@kikker-oma

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma!!!

Oma, thank you so so much for making Fan Joy July and sharing it with us! Our fandom, our artists, writers, readers, etc have loved seeing or taking part in this crazy challenge.

This is our gift to thank you- from artists all around who were affected by, or got gifts from, or took part in Fan Joy July. We all love you so much- so we made letters/art for this (Zelda themed!). Many said that they had already wanted to make/write you something, and this gave an opportunity.

One of the things I've loved about this month is how community/interaction centered you made it. The challenge was for yourself to make art each day (you absolute maniac /affectionate)- but then others joined. This July we saw or made art or fics with recommendations. Every day you made art for a writer with a scene from one of their fics, and inspired others to do the same, and writers even wrote every day for an artist based off an art piece they made! This led to a month of gift giving- everyone interacting and getting love for creating.

You truly led to a month of Joy for a lot of loz/lu fans- making the name "Fan Joy July" quite accurate

Thank you, Oma

Thank you for the gifts you gave all of us and the way you inspire others

Additional ramblings and art credits below the cut :P

I'm so grateful to all my artists who stepped up so we could do this when I asked- almost 36 hours and 19 artists. The art is like patchwork, with all these different styles, both traditional and digital put together. But that's exactly what happened- we all got drawn together, just like the other month-long challenges. It's so cool how art always connects people.

The artists who participated are @zolanort @la-sera @nancyheart11 @galenfeadraws @shade-pup-cub @arecaceae175 @isasan347 @ghosthoard @smilesrobotlover @unexpectedstormy @skyloftian-nutcase @knight-of-aether @uniquevoidflowers @jinxedruby @windwakingwhale @skyward-floored @xaeorian @blarefordaglare and me Thank you to all of you- You are all so cool and I'm glad! If I accidentally missed tagging or listing someone please let me know I'm so scared of if that happened djskdjdkd

There are letters based off of the colours/theme of each of the Lu boys- it's mainly Zelda and linkeduniverse themed... but we couldn't not have frogs for Oma! I did a frog, his name is Froggy and I'm very proud.

Here's a picture with a list of who did what-

Normally I would apologise for my handwriting, but you guys would just tell me it looks good anyways and honestly it does look good. :D Sorry for the ink splotches tho, and I hope you can read it.

We did this for you, Oma, because... well you are awesome /gen. You gave us the opportunity for a great month and we wanted to say thank you for all the joy you brought us so... thank you :)

Art :D

As for everyone who said they wanted to talk to Oma or other Fan Joy July artists who they loved sharing this month with... feel free to tag and share in the reblogs. Share the joy I guess- there's enough to go around :D

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma :))

[ak319]

Lovesick Rich Gf x Fem gp reader

(Headcanon #2)

II Scenarios based, contains implied sexual themes and fluff II

"Where you off to, baby?" Roxi's voice rang out as she watched you shut the fridge door, a choco bar already halfway to your mouth. She eyed you suspiciously as you took a bite, clearly enjoying the sweet treat.

"Nothing, just Teddy called me, for a hangout," you mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.

"And?" Her tone had an edge to it now, and you could feel her eyes boring into you.

You stopped chewing and flopped down beside her on the sofa, trying to seem casual. "And what?" You forced a grin, glancing past her at the perfect view of the beach outside the window, hoping to change the subject. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

Roxi’s brows furrowed, and her expression turned from suspicious to outright annoyed. "Are you serious? We have a dinner with Mommy and Daddy."

Oh.

Shit.

You.

Had.

Forgotten.

"Um--"

"And they invited us a week ago!" Her voice grew louder, her frustration bubbling over as she leaned closer, her finger jabbing your chest lightly with each word.

You gulped, adjusting your hoodie as if that might shield you from the heat of her glare. "I know, I know. I just--forgot, alright?"

Roxi's eyes narrowed, her tone growing sharper and almost mocking. "Really? You are bullshitting right now. We talked about it yesterday!"

Right, after that long session when you were too tired to even reply. Of course, that's when she chose to bring up the most important stuff. Always.

You winced at the accusation, knowing she had a point. “Look, I swear, it just slipped my mind! Teddy called last minute, and I thought-”

She cut you off, her lips curling into a dangerously sweet smile as she leaned even closer, practically nose-to-nose with you now. “You thought what, exactly? That I wouldn’t notice if you ditched our dinner for some bro time?”

You tried to keep your cool, offering a weak smile. "Roxi, come on. You know I’d rather be with you. Look, I'm sorry, but I’ll be back before that. Like at 6. It's literally 2 right now."

She let out a sigh, a sure sign she was agreeing, but the hint of a pout on her lips told you she was still upset.

"C'mon, darling. Don’t be like that." You leaned in closer, flashing a playful smile. "Now be a good girl and send me off with a kiss."

She huffed and got up, moving toward the balcony. This was going to be tough.

You followed her, wrapping your arms around her from behind. This time, she spoke, but her words weren’t directed at you, they were for the life growing inside her.

"Your mom has clearly shown where her priorities lie."

"Roxi--how can you even say that?! Look at me." You spun her around, but she refused to meet your eyes.

"Roxi. I’m dead serious. Look. At. Me."

She met your gaze, her expression blank. "You know that’s not true. I work hard for you, for our future, and for our baby-"

"Work isn't the only way to show you care, y'know. There's attention, there's time, there's..." Her voice cracked as she started to sniffle, and your hold on her arms loosened.

"God, Roxi, I am---trying my best here...and I know sometimes I'm just not-"

She cut you off with a small nod. "No, I know. You’re doing so much, and of course, Daddy keeps you busy. I know it's tough and you know how he is but... I just sometimes miss the old you..."

She trailed off, her voice barely a whisper. She missed the time when you served only her before everything became so complicated. And deep down, you missed it too, your simple ass job. You felt like you were caught between two worlds, one where her father demanded the best from you, and one where you were her girlfriend. And now, the unexpected addition to your lives only made things more complicated.

It’s not like you regret any of it. You love her with all your heart, but sometimes you just need a break from all of this. Because she isn’t the only one who misses the way things used to be, you do too. Being rich and being with the rich is not as easy as it seems. There’s so much you have to be careful of, both professionally and personally. And then there’s your own family, who needs your time too. But spending time with her parents will always be a challenge to you, especially her father. God, he loved to give you a hard time.

"I love you, baby, I always will." You held her hand, pressing a kiss to the spot where the ring rested, letting your lips linger against her skin. She melted into you, immediately wrapping her arms around your neck, bringing her forehead to rest against yours.

"I love you too, my baby. Forever."

Without breaking the moment, you scooped her up in a bridal style and carried her over to the couch. The phone buzzed on the coffee table, Teddy’s name flashed on the screen. But right now, that didn't matter. You couldn't leave her like this, still in the haze of emotions from your conversation.

"Imma cuddle you to death for, I would say, 30 minutes, if that's alright, madame."

She let out a soft giggle as you laid her down on the spacious, cozy couch, settling beside her. "When has that ever been wrong?"

You grinned, nestling against her warmth. "By the way, Ava called, and she wants to meet up too, a couple’s date, y'know."

"Ava... as in Arlo's girlfriend?" Your eyes flickered with curiosity, and she nodded, knowing the memories those names stirred. Arlo and Ava are her old friends from high school. Arlo, now an F1 driver, and Ava, his lively partner, quickly took to you when you were introduced at Arlo's race.

"Yeah, yeah. Are you free next weekend?" she asked, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. You considered it, then shrugged subtly.

"Maybe... I can't say for sure as of now, but-"

"No ifs or buts." She interrupted you, sliding herself closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. "Now you will be. Sunday’s cool." Her fingers brushed along the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt a smirk tug at your lips as you leaned in, your voice low against her ear. "But what if I had other plans?"

Her gaze sharpened, and she arched a brow. "Cancel them. You can’t seriously think I’d let you spend your Sunday anywhere else when I’m right here." She punctuated her words with a teasing kiss on your jawline, her lips warm against your skin.

"Even if I had plans with Teddy?" You teased, watching the way her eyes narrowed slightly, her possessiveness slipping through.

She huffed, her hands sliding down your chest with just enough pressure to make your breath catch. "Oh, Teddy can wait. Tell him you’re busy... and I’m sure I can convince you to stay." Her lips grazed yours, teasingly slow, sending heat flooding through you.

You couldn't resist her--never could. Not when she was like this, a mix of playful and demanding, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And damn right, Roxi is well aware of this. With one swift movement, you reached over and silenced your phone, tossing it aside. "Teddy who?" you murmured against her lips, pulling her closer, your hands slipping under the hem of her shirt.

She laughed softly, her voice dropping to a whisper as her lips brushed yours again. "That’s what I thought, babe. Now, you’re all mine."

And as your mouth met hers, you both knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

・❥・

The evening starts with a romantic drive. You’ve convinced her that it’s just a regular date night, but as you drive her to your destination, she notices you’re taking a different route towards the beach. Roxi, ever curious, raises an eyebrow.

“Babe, where are we going?” she asks, looking out at the setting sun turning the sky shades of orange and pink.

You flash her a sly smile, keeping your gaze on the road. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

You pull up to a secluded area by the beach, where the waves crash gently against the shore. Roxi steps out, and as she takes in the scene, she spots a path lined with lanterns and rose petals leading down to a private section of the beach. She glances back at you, her expression softening with a mix of curiosity and affection.

Guiding her by the hand, you lead her down the lit path. At the end, there’s a beautifully set-up picnic blanket, surrounded by flickering candles. It’s simple, yet filled with little details she loves, her favourite chocolate, the soft music of her favourite band playing from a hidden speaker, and a cosy setup with pillows to lounge on.

She sinks down onto the blanket, giggling as she sees her favourite flowers on display. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”

You sit beside her, your heart racing as you pour her a glass of a drink. “Only the best for you, Roxi.”

The two of you spend the next hour talking, laughing, and enjoying the sunset together, the conversation flowing effortlessly like always. But as twilight descends, your nerves kick in. You take a deep breath, glancing at her with a tender smile.

“I have one more surprise,” you say, your voice a little shaky. You stand up, and she tilts her head in confusion as you reach into your jacket pocket. Her eyes widen when she sees the small velvet box in your hand.

You drop to one knee, taking her hand in yours. For a moment, the world seems to slow, the sound of the ocean fading into the background.

“Roxi,” you begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I’ve loved every single moment with you. From our lazy weekends to our spontaneous adventures, to those little fights about nothing that make us laugh five minutes later. You make every day better more beautiful, more vibrant, just like you are.”

Her eyes glisten, a soft smile playing at her lips, but she’s holding her breath, waiting for what’s next. What she had been dying to hear from you the moment she met you has finally come true!

“You’ve shown me what it means to love and be loved, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. And now, you’re giving me the greatest gift, our little one, a part of you and me, our little baby. I know in my heart that they’re going to be so lucky, so blessed, to have you as their mother. They’ll grow up with your strength, your warmth, and that beautiful heart of yours. And I can’t wait to see the way your eyes light up when you hold them, the same way they do whenever you look at me. I want to build this future with you, with our little family. Roxi, will you marry me?”

She’s already tearing up, her hand covering her mouth, and for a second, you feel the world hanging in the balance. Then she laughs a sweet, joyful sound and nods, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes! Yes, of course, I will!” she says, practically launching herself into your arms, almost knocking you over. You catch her, both of you falling into the sand as you hold each other tightly, her lips meeting yours in a deep, breathless kiss.

When you pull back, still holding her close, you slip the ring onto her finger. It glimmers in the candlelight, but not nearly as much as her smile as she admires it. “You did good, babe,” she whispers against your lips, giving you a teasing smile.

"Anything for you, darling."

[sailoryooons]

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

[sweeterhoni]

i hate it when my brain functions differently when i'm in class, also, a snippet of a wip that's based on this brainrot

non-idol au . childhood friend!jake x afab!reader . R18 MINORS DNI!

a/n: this is suggestive. this isn't like me but this.. phew i need to breathe before writing more

before reading more, this fic is mixed with a religious theme and i'm so sorry bc this might just be straight blasphemy 🙇‍♀️ .

jake never knew what changed, you stayed nearly the same so there wasn’t much to highlight on you. jake never paid attention to you, he grew up with you and maybe that was enough to justify his distance. but was it? or maybe that became his favorite excuse to use when people keep asking why the two of you weren’t stuck together.

but what made him come up with excuses? what made him distant? what changed? – these were all the questions that pondered his mind. jake doesn’t have any answers despite this ‘operation: stay away from y/n’ has been going on for months. he just knew he had to have his distance when he felt himself getting hard around you.

it wasn’t hard. thanking your faith and focus in your religion to an extent where he started to attend church services again, but you were there. you were always there, and maybe his quick glances to your direction were enough to satisfy the torture he’s been putting himself through. but did he really have to go out of his way to attend your services when sunday was his only free day?

jake was a star in your university. people drool over him, they devour him and he indulges in it. you once joked he almost acted too similar to an incubus who feeds off the sexual energy from people, and he laughed and rebutted with “maybe that’s why you never felt anything sexual? is it? because i’m a, quote on quote, incubus?”

and ever since that day, jake could never put you out of his mind. you were devouring him unknowingly.

﹉﹉﹉

it was a sunday.

jake suited up, wearing his white long sleeve polo shirt that perfectly hugged his broad shoulders. he tucked it in his grey slacks, defining the inverted triangle shape he hides under sportswear and his uniform. it always felt like a sin to show up to the church subtly flexing every woman’s dream but does he still have any shame? when his mind defines lust when you show up in your dress that reminds a nun. you were always picked to pray for any services, requiring you to wear the white dress and veil the ‘baby nuns’ wear.

seeing you in it, jake always wanted to start a religion. a religion where you praise him, and devote to him the same way you devote to christianity. it wasn’t like him at all to have these sudden urges that just revolve around you, his life was soccer and academics– but you were becoming a part of it if you won’t stop whatever this is.

he was an hour earlier, just in time to watch you pray.

he wanted to defile you right then and there when you kneeled, your eyes closed, and your head perfectly angled as if you were doing this for the entirety of your life. he struggle to sit properly when you show no struggles in kneeling upright with your head bowed, and with the way the veil only shows a bit of your well-kept hair, jake knew he had to keep himself from acting out the events playing in his head.

he wasn’t even praying, all he did was fantasize about you.

a half of an hour passed, and he watched when you rose with ease. jake had his eyes fixated on you, it mesmerized him when you didn’t wince from kneeling that long and oh did he want you kneeling before him. he ached to see you be obedient when it wasn’t for him.

he wanted to shrug off these thoughts, maybe the praises were getting to him, but maybe it’s just you when these same thoughts never occur towards anyone else. he sinned again. you were his childhood friend, both of you grew up following the same religion, you were too religious and it would physically hurt him if he continue to think of you in that light but it just felt right.

“jake?” thank god then for your calming voice who snapped him out of the trance. “yes?” he replied, masking the lust he now clearly feels for you, “are you alright?” he was. he was alright before all these thoughts come to him, now he wasn’t. he watched how your lips rested in a pout, waiting for his answer with furrowed brows that show worry “of course, why wouldn’t i be?”

jake realised how he might have looked when fixating on you, not an ounce of guilt in his body as he chased a high.

“your brows were furrowed, it looked as if they’ll be sewn together.” you spoke with worry laced in your voice, you watched as he drew in a sharp breath. you figured he was just worried for the captain tryouts next week, so you nodded in understanding “ah! nevermind, you might be too worried for next week’s tryouts, but i’ll cheer you on jakey!”

and there it is.

even if you never tainted dirt, you were sultry. the way you said his childhood nickname felt as if it was the last straw, he had to get out of there. he had to get away from you. so he shamelessly used it as an excuse to leave, leaving you a pat on the head– “you’re right, you were always so bright my dove! i have to go, there’s an unscheduled practice today, be a good girl. for me, okay?“ and oblivious to the second meaning, you nodded your head.

“i’ve always been a good girl, for you and for the church.”

that left him hanging. it was true that you were always good, you were the epitome of an angel. some even call you that when you turn your back, you were always good. you were too innocent.

and it drives him insane how you agree to everything he says. it drives him insane how easy you comply to him. jake just wanted you, and if he wanted– you would already be in his bed but it all felt wrong when he caught sight of the pastor the two of you grew up with.

“i’ll go then. i’ll see you on wednesday, and wear the jersey i gave you, alright? that can be your way of cheering me on.” of course it was just another excuse to drive people away from you. he wanted you to wear it as it acted like a silent agreement, albeit one-sided, that you were only his to devour.