#i can't fight it i'm wordy

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[ashirisu]

hey, everyone!

My name is Ley (pronounced like "Lee," she/they) and I'm a fiction writer/editor based in the PNW. I haven't done a proper writeblr intro in a while, so I figure the new year is a great time to reintroduce myself to the community!

— about me

An important thing to understand about me and the way I talk about writing is that this stuff is literally my entire life. Even outside of work, I don't think I have a single interest or hobby that doesn't relate back to storytelling in some capacity. I'm an avid media consumer and critic, and will hyperanalyze just about anything that catches my fancy for more than a minute.

I love science fiction and fantasy, and my goal as a writer is to take all the genres I loved growing up and create stories that are a little more diverse, inclusive, and queer.

— about the blog

I came to writeblr mostly to share my work, but also to find an active community where I can get excited with other writers and talk shop. Marketing is obviously a really important part of the publishing industry, but I get tired of having to filter every thought I have about my work and experiences through the lens of aesthetic micro-trends just to put it out in the world. Sometimes I just want to pop off about scenes I'm proud of, you know?

Above all else, I really just want to connect with more writers like myself, ones who got their start in fandom spaces and are working to take their writing from a hobby into a career. I see you, I am you, I love you, let's be friends!

— about my writing

I write a lot, though most of it is disconnected nonsense. Flash fiction and short stories are where I really thrive as a writer. I don't tend to commit to long-form projects, but I have a few projects that I'll occasionally share details about!

I like to describe my style as "earnest and character-forward," which is a fancy way of saying that I like driven protagonists who think too much and are emotional to the point of it being a character flaw.

My goal is to share more of my original writing moving forward, so hopefully you'll get to see all of this for yourself. If I'm totally honest, though, you'll probably see more of me discussing my work than actually writing it.

— about my projects

Here are the things you'll most likely see me posting about:

Agnomen: A sci-fi retelling of Hamlet and Coriolanus, currently in its very preliminary stages. It is literally my Roman Empire, except it's set on a moon of a planet that I'm calling Jupiter as a placeholder (but please note that it isn't actually Jupiter, as Jupiter is a gas giant and therefore a scientifically impossible setting for large sections of the plot).

Alter Ego: A superhero fic in which not-so-mild-mannered reporter Drew Derrick fights for mutant rights and can't seem to get his act together when it comes to keeping the complicated parts of his life separate.

Untitled Fantasy Project: The very first project I ever wrote, and the piece I return to every so often when writing is feeling more like a slog than a fun hobby. I set a lot of one-offs in this world and follow a few key characters around without them having a real plot.

D&D: I write a lot about Baz, my Wild Magic Barbarian. He's a regency noble with a lot of problems, and I care about him very much. I also have various other settings and characters, but he's my most active PC at the moment and therefore gets the most attention.

Short Stories: Sometimes I write these, and sometimes I like them enough to share!

— tag directory

ley rambles: my (often wordy) opinions about things

ley writes: not necessarily my writing, but talking about my writing

my writing: stories, blurbs, and other content I've written

not my writing: reblogs and creative writing that I liked, shared, and sometimes commented on

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

Finished Felvidek and had a grand time!

Thought I'd do a lil list of things/moments/details I loved off the top of my head:

gave cursed coffee bean to a chicken and it mutated. Did it for science

game's got some twin peaks vibes, some monty python, a tad of hylics, along it a bunch of other ingredients, but it feels very much its own thing with its own identity

pear man and his daughters deserve the world, wish we hung out more

there's a fight with an invisible enemy, all your attacks miss because your guys can't see shit and I was laughing just imagining Pavol and Matej swinging their swords at nothing hoping to slay the forest fiend. Very Don Quixote, I love it.

the PS1 style cutscenes are sooooo beautiful I love them to pieces, they drip with style and charm. I knew I needed to give this game a go the moment I watched the trailer and was greeted by the cinematics. God I love them so much. And not just the syle but the directing itself, the way shots are framed, god...

I love the character portraits for everyone. There's so much detail and everyone feels unique/like an actual person with distinct features. From the Priest's very punchable face, to Pavol's grin to Josef's sexy ass... From main characters to NPCs to enemy sprites, I love everyone's design and colour coding (don't know if it was intentional but the purple for the cultists was neat, seemed to subtly imply early on that they were being funded by rich folk, since pruple is associated with nobility, power and wealth)

speaking of character design, shout-out to this lil guy, look at him please

Numnut the drunkard my beloved, I recruited him and less than a minute later he fell on flat ground into a nearby river (and drowns???). I reloaded a previous save to see if I could have him in my party a lil longer. I took a different path, got into a fight. "yay I get to see him in action!"- I thought. I used his one special move, called: 'good idea', and Numnut proceeds to punch his own face, dealing 90 damage (not even in the endgame did I deal such high numbers!). THE Character of all time, he drowned again after that and I'll never forget him.

BALLOON IN THE MIDDLE AGES! (possible Andrei Rublev reference? I can dream...)

just, the way things are worded:

cutting people's ears after killing them as spoils (and giving the ears to a maiden, as you do)

there's a quest where you have to cut a man's tattooed buttock to give to another guy, and it's all for nothing, you ruined a man's ass for nothing. I love it. The dialogue during this whole section had me dying.

I love that there's just this guy who lives in the castle's well. And our boy Pavol thinks it's a great idea to throw a bomb in there to make him come out.

this:

there's these lil inisghtful and mournfoul comments on the dead bodies you leave behind. Like, expressing regret at all the senseless violence and death or how cheap life is here. And I'm not sure if it's Pavol or Matej making them. It makes more sense for it to be Matej but I kinda like the idea of it being Pavol's comments, these small moments of introspection and realization in the midst of a drunken adventure. You've been engaging in all the violence while pissed drunk but then after you kill your opponents and look at their corpses... and it's like this sobering moment, before you're back at it with all the merry-making (I also like that a lot of these bodies don't disappear and just remain on screen, and you can see the carnage your guys leave behind in their quest)

the whole adventure felt to me like, this series of odd little events in a knight's life before it's passed down, told by and retold by different people, and after many generations it's been touched up and made more coherent and noble than the clusterfuck it actually was. Before it became a narrative I guess is what I mean

it can get a bit wordy and hard to follow but I really like the old timey way the dialogue is written and its dry sense of humour

there's these little subversions of gaming tropes that I found really fun too! Like as soon as Pavol's wife and your falling out with her is introduced you may expect a reconciliation between the two, or a moment where you have to save her and prove your worth and love to her to win her heart. As you would expect from a story with a knight and a damsel. But no she hates his guts lmao tries to murder him too! (tho I do think Pavol took her in that balloon ride at the end). There's also the fact that I am not allowed to play minigames! Josef wants to play tabletop games but your character always replies no. No minigames for you son! And like, this feels especially catered to me as someone who, more often than not, will dread whenever a game will introduce some sort of card game or the like. I was so happy that wasn't forced on me for once! Couldn't believe it. Kinda felt bad for Josef tho, I'm sorry Pavol doesn't wanna play Pexeso wth you.

the battle animations! I'm particularly fond of the eating porridge one, or the chugging down a bucket of sour cream, and the petard

the little *slaps face* animation

Pavol and Matej as a duo and the whole tavern scene with the two exchanging clothes

the lil moments of humanity where Pavol talks about his broken life and sense of self

the rare moments when Pavol stops grinning

it goes without saying but the art is absolutely gorgeous. Its nostalgic monochrome melancholy speaks to me on a deep spiritual level. Inject it directly into my bone marrow please. Shout-out also to the ost, it fucks and has tons of bangers. The Hrad track, the one that plays on Josef's castle... god... love at first listen, and have been listening nonstop for the last few days now while going on walks.

[redinahedge]

I want to talk about IDW Sonic

Mainly, his characterization.

IDW is canon. There's no getting around that. It takes place directly after Sonic Forces and because of that, Sonic's characterization is pretty important. Soo, how about we explain Sonic's character in the games? Sonic is a free spirit. He doesn't care whether what he does is right or wrong, he simply does things his own way. Always off to go on another adventure and have fun. He's snarky and has a big ego, but loves his friends and cares about the world around him, always willing to do the right thing. Freedom is his game, and he can't stand when it's restricted by anyone. He's a shonen protagonist in every sense of the word, but he has this flair to him that makes him so much fun to watch. So why do people hate his depiction in IDW? everything seems in order-

...he's stupid. He's fought this guy for so many years, knows he won't accept, but he offers? When has Sonic ever tried to reason with his enemies? Sonic isn't some Christ-like "I forgive you," figure, he's supposed to be living his own way! Not bound down by a moral code! ...Except no. Sure, it's on full display in IDW but this has always been a part of Sonic's character. Need I remind you of a very iconic scene, one where metal is IN it?

When you think about it, the same thing is happening in both scenes. Sonic is reaching out, trying to get humanity out of the robot until... he slaps his hand away, and departs. One melting into lava, and the other to his master. Sure, the Sonic OVA isn't canon. I know that. But it's also an early example of what his character was like before Sonic Adventure. Sonic has a tendency to befriend old rivals after them turning around. Knuckles, Shadow, Gemerl, etcetera. He even asks metal later why he can't be like the other robots -

And I saw a post that says this goes against when he said to honor his decision. Not only is this kind of hypocritical given that the main point of contention is how forgiving he is, it's also completely ignoring the fact that he realized because he was so merciful, all of this happened. He blames Starline for putting Eggman back on the path, he blames Metal, hell, he even blames Tails at one point he's stressed, he's slowly becoming a zombot, the world is borderline ending and... it's all his fault. He's not used to that, so of course he's going to put blame on those who he let go. To be fair, a similar thing happened in Lost World as well, Sonic kicked the Conch out of Eggman's hand and let the Zeti take over his fleet, letting them proceed to misuse the Energy Drainer Eggman had made. In my opinion, these are too different situations. In one, he's undoubtedly in the wrong. There's no one else he can blame. What, is he going to blame the air for kicking it out? In IDW, yes he's at fault, but there's many more factors. Starline's hypnotherapy, Metal's return, etc. In Sonic's eyes, he didn't do anything wrong by letting him be free, but the circumstances made it a mistake. Does that make him putting the blame on others right? No. But that's not what I'm getting at, my point is that it's not out of character. If anything, his character flaws here making him more interesting to watch in my opinion.

Ah yes, Sonic morally grandstanding to Surge So out of character Sonic would never do this. I'll concede that this is very wordy and a bit pretentious. But is it truly out of character for him? If we look at what he's saying itself, and his entire philosophy, everything kind of falls into place and explains itself. Cut down it's essentially: "Hey, I enjoy life. I want you to as well. That's why I don't want to fight. Wanna start over?" This has happened so many times. Same as last time, he's done this same song and dance so many times. This is even more similar to his past encounters than the situation with Metal was! "Sonic isn't a pacifist" Is a big argument I see about this as well. While I don't consider him a complete pacifist either, I believe he wouldn't unless he absolutely has to. In Black Knight, he understood there was no other way, and slayed the king. Every other time, there has been another way, and thus he had taken it. I'd even be willing to bet it's IDW itself that made him reevaluate how much he resorts to violence. Meeting Mr. Tinker caught him off guard, and he had to think about it before deciding to let him go.

He reevaluated his stance that day. That's why he's so much of a "pacifist" now compared to earlier. This experience is the reason. He's seen the good in Eggman now. He's seen that they can change and do the right thing. He wants to see them go down that path, and the world is making him pay for it every day. I actually really like this direction for Sonic. I understand not liking it, it is different, but I think it works well. IDW is honestly probably one of my favorite interpretations of the character. Idk how to close this so

sonic is cool i like the comics k byee

[roydeezed]

Luffy's defining characteristic is his deep empathy in the context of his desire for freedom

Wordy title? Yeah. But it expresses the point I want to get to pretty succinctly. I saw a post the other day that said Luffy was selfish. I don't know how I feel about that. I really don't think he is that selfish. Yeah, he's selfish about meat and having fun. But I don't think that's his defining characteristic. It feels like an uncharitable read of him that doesn't take into account his worldview that everyone deserves freedom. Though that reblog about him being lonely is an amazing catch. I'm glad someone else caught that moment in the flashback cause I thought I was going crazy thinking Luffy had a deep trauma relating to his loneliness.

I think there's a lot to talk about there, including a theory as to Luffy's core motivations which involves Impel Down, Incarceration and forced labour of some sort but we'll get to that later down this post. I normally don't like arguing or refuting people's takes, which is why I didn't do this through a reblog, but thinking about why that take sat wrong with me helped me to reconcile Shank's whole persona, prompting me to make this post. But to do that, me, as the authour of this post, and you, as the reader, need to get on the same page about my long held beliefs on Luffy's defining charecteristic and motivation. And I'll go into that below the "Keep reading".

To start off with, we need to establish some common ground. First, let's start off with something quite simple to accept. And that's the fact that Luffy is kind. He will fight for the weak and hates seeing injustice. One of my favourite early stories is the Orange Town arc and the bond Luffy forms with Chouchou.

He understands people's(also read as animal's when applicable) emotions and gets upset when they're mistreated. So much so that he fights on behalf of people that can't fight for themselves. But only after they've resolved to fight. After Chochou loses to Mohji and Richie, Luffy fights them.

After Luffy defeats them, we get a soft moment between the two of them where he acknowledges Chouchou's effort, his love and his treasure. It chokes me up everytime but it's such a great distillation of Luffy's character.

This is why the label of selfish, even in the context that he selfishly wants to be nice, falls so flat for me. Luffy cares for people. He understands people(and once again, read as animals when applicable, it's just not as punchy you know what I mean?). He goes out of his way to care for them. Luffy has such a great emotional intelligence that he's able to understand when people are hurt, what's holding them back, and when they lie to themselves. For example, Sanji's dream was to go to the All Blue, but due to his obligation to Baratie, he couldn't leave. So what does Luffy do?

He destroys the physical metaphor for the mental block his friend has, not only to remind him that Baratie is just as much the people as the place, including Sanji himself, but also to unanchor him from the spot he's been rooted in so long, both physically and mentally. Oda does this time and time again, beautifully melding emotional concepts with their physical manifestations.

But Luffy understands one more thing. He can't fight these battles for them. He can show them the way. He can destroy things if it will help them come to a certain conclusion. But he won't make the decision for them. Because they need to do that themselves. They need to choose to fight. They need to choose to change. It's the most important thing to him. Not only the freedom to be unmoored from restrictions. But the freedom to choose either life. It's why he doesn't fight on their behalf until they ask him to.

He'll stop them from hurting themselves.

And he'll admit how much less he knows than them. About how little right he has to make a decision for them.

And he'll wait for them to make the decision. To ask for help.

Unlike animals, who he chooses to help when they choose to fight, for people he needs to hear it from their mouths. And then he seeks to understand the best way to help them. This is not the act of someone who is selfish. This is someone who respects choice and the dignity of being able to choose.

With Nami, once he understood what trapped her, her obligation to her people, the years of work she's done as a navigator, and all that Arlong was, Luffy set out to free her one by one.

Her obligation, and all that Arlong has done, Luffy could erase with beating Arlong. But her years of servitude, the crushing weight of incarceration? The feeling that comes with being used?

The only way Luffy could get rid of that was to destroy the place that kept her prisoner.

One Piece has very consistent and solid themes about how institutions, when granted power by the threat of violence, subjugates and restricts the freedom of the citizens it was meant to aid. We see that with the World Government, and places like Impel Down. On a smaller level, Oda shows us this threat through people like Arlong. They become like institutions and every action they take becomes one of restriction. Very rightfully, Oda shows that incarceration is one of the most dehumanising and soul shattering things that can be done to someone. The very place of Incarceration holds a power over the incarcerated. I'm sure if distilled enough, those statements can be ground up into something pithy enough to be an overarching theme, but I'm trying to make a point here so let's stick with my unwieldy lingo. Besides we all know if One Piece had a theme, it would be that Afro Power trumps all. I mean look at Brook, my guy survived dying. Also, Gaimon and Yasuie both had afros... We'll put a pin in this. But this is important. Back to the main point. Objects and places serve as anchors, the equivalent of handcuffs on a prisoner. That's why Luffy does this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

We see in Nami's reaction how much this all means to her. Her overwhelmed look as Luffy frees her from the weight and hold Arlong Park had on her.

These are the actions of a fundamentally kind person. One who believes that everyone deserves to be free. One who has the empathy to realize that it's a hard choice to pursue. And one who will unselfishly do his best to make it so that those that do choose to ask for help, get it. One who seeks to understand the pain of other's and how best to help them. The reason we see him choose to help people is because they've chosen to ask for help first.

Luffy understands that everyone deserves the dignity of freedom. Or more accurately, everyone deserves to be at a place where they can choose their future. It's why he doesn't begrudge Dragon or anyone for what they choose. Luffy also waits for people to ask for help because what good would freedom be if you weren't free to make the choice to pursue it. A forced decision isn't freedom to him. That's how deep his empathy runs. And that's how all encompassing his definition of freedom is. And it's the combination of this deep well of empathy and dream of freedom that drives and defines Luffy. My boy's wicked smaht(emotionally).

That's the face of someone who cares about others. The words of someone who cares about other. Unselfishly.

That was just one instance out of many where Luffy followed this pattern. Oda is amazing at cyclical storytelling, so much so that in the twenty year plus lifespan of One Piece I believe he has created his own tropes. And that cyclical storytelling is such a powerful engine of thematic storytelling, in so many different ways, that it's hard to get into here. But the general gist is that he repeats ideas that are important. Let's take a look at this pattern of deep empathy with another Best Girl, Robin.

We see here that Luffy comes to an understanding of what needs to happen first. It plays out in a different order but the beats are the same. And they all show his empathy.

He destroys her shackles first. He lets her know that as long as she's with them, she'll never have to fear the World Government.

And here's the most concrete example of his empathy. He needs to hear the words from her lips. He needs her to make the choice. And he gets her to the point where she's free to make that choice. The control the years of abuse and loneliness have on her is so intense that she doesn't even think she's allowed to wish for this, much less say it.

(I've stopped to cry multiple times while making this. Oda has a straight line to my tear ducts. Thank Nika I'm not talking about Fisher Tiger as well) At the end of it all, one must choose to live before being free. Up until this point. Up until learning the massive weight that Robin carries, Luffy was chasing after a friend. After learning of her struggles, he realizes that he needs to help her. And he got her to the point where she could ask for help.

I hope that, through actual textual evidence, I've demonstrated what I think Luffy's core characteristic, his empathy, and core motivation, his dream of freedom, are. Now we get into some of the more speculative points that build off of this foundation. We'll start with my take on Luffy's past and then explain what all of this showed me about Shanks.

This is going to be pretty quick. First of all, the following paragraph contain some SPOILERS up to CHAPTER 1080. Oda has time and time again made it a point to highlight a plot point of characters having to forcefully work in solitude, isolated from friends. Hell, he even made an entire arc about it that resulted in our hero only escaping because of his friends. And bringing up that cyclical storytelling, we've seen arcs and moments repeat. But here's two things we haven't seen yet. An Impel Down like arc and a giant flashback like the ASL flashback. And with Garp being where he is in the story, just like how Ace's death motivated Luffy's first big flashback, if something happens to Garp, we could get a flashback into Luffy's past as we still need to learn of his true dream. And based on that second picture in this post, of Luffy saying lonliness hurts more than physical pain, and Luffy's aversion to lonliness as well as his high tolerance to pain, it makes me believe that his early childhood was truly tragic, something where he was imprisoned alone and forced to work on things for his captors. Also the way he gets rid of obligations people think they have makes me feel like whatever thing he may have been forced to do, he might've felt an obligation to carry it out. If that does turn out to be the case, it would just go to show how well Luffy is characterized.

Next, talking about Shanks, I feel like Shanks has been such an enigma to me. Both in his actions and his buddy buddy relationship with the Gorosei. It wasn't until thinking about his most recent actions in the context of Luffy's desire of freedom, and how Luffy likes to get people to a place of equality where they're free to make their own choices, that it clicked for me. Shanks is in a way a reflection of Luffy. Or more likely he taught Luffy the concept of the freedom to choose and the equality in reaching that choice. Because Shanks is about equality. Maybe in the way that his desire is freedom for all but I'm not sure about that yet. More than anything, Shanks wants things to be fair. Equal. Actual Justice in a world of twisted renditions. He's a reflection of the Admirals as much as he is a reflection of Luffy.

Look at his actions. He wants Luffy to give him the hat back when they're equals. He didn't do a thing to the mountain bandits until they chose violence, letting him play in that realm as equals. Arriving at Marineford and stopping Kaido, it was all about equalizing the playing field. Stopping the navy from poaching the warriors of Wano while the recuperated, also about fairness and equality. And with the most recent example of Kid, he wanted to make sure Kid had recuperated and only attacked when he knew Kid was attacking. I can't tell yet if it comes from kindness. But what I do know is that Shanks is a reflection of Luffy meant to better highlight our boy's sense of empathy and Justice. I feel like Shanks represents what Rayliegh talked about in Sabaody, about how after seeing the One Piece they came to a certain conclusion. One that must have been based on fairness and equality. But I think the One Piece needs Luffy and his empathetic and kind viewpoint to come to a different conclusion, the right one.

If somehow, somebody's read through this whole thing and made it all the way down to the bottom, thanks for reading! And I always love talking about about the stuff I discuss here, especially One Piece so feel free to comment, ask or DM about things.

[bnbc]

@lylakoi I'll answer in a separate post because it's about the 3rd chapter and I have an essay worthy material amount about it, so no chance I would fit in the limit xD

short answer: Yrliet got a second chance while Marazhai didn't; Argenta picked the absolutely perfect time for her confession.'

3rd chapter is a major point for Isabella when she steps from 'I can't do anything, I have to rely on my people' to 'I can do everything, my people rely on me' (and also from "I play a Rogue Trader' to "I am a Rogue Trader" but for now we focus on people)

so, in Commorragh Isabella had one task, and only one: she came there with 5 people of her and she had to find them, save them and take them out of this shitty place. All of them.

'All of them, aeldari included, Heinrix', and 'All of them, you'll deal with Argenta later, Abelard.' This was not for discussion.

I'm not saying that Isabella was either smart or sane during this period, but she was absolutely unstoppable and laser-focused on her main goa, and if she would let anyone argue with her or plant doubts in her mind, she would probably break, so she barked on anyone who tried to start a civil war inside her little party and was about to throw boots in them (but her boots were stolen)

Marazhai had no chance, honestly, it even didn't come to Isabella's mind that he could become her ally (I knew he was recruitable, but it made no sense for her), and also: she came with 5 of her people, not 6 or 7 (Ulfar stayed in the cage, too)

During the escape, Yrliet showed that she deserves forgiveness (Isabella accepted her sacrifice to haemuncul, and basically the last battle was won by Yrliet and Heinrix fighting back to back), so when they jumped on her on the ship Isabella stood up for her, made her apologize and closed this question forever or until Yrliet fucks up again. She didn't fuck up and spent many years alongside Iza.

Argenta… Isabella's approach to her changes from 'she is the chosen of the God Emperor, she is his wraith and his grace, she does what is right' in the beginning to 'I wish she had a choice to decide for herself." Isabella even didn't feel like she had to forgive her, because truly, Argenta did what she thought is an only option. Although nobody escapes Isabella's mercy, so she started to talk to her about making decisions, free will, and all the other crap she was already filling poor Heinrix's head with xD

I don't have canon Argenta's ending yet (I got both 'repentia' and 'new order' endings, I only know that after Heinrix becomes LI, he requisitions her to his service)

SORRT FOR BEING SO WORDY BUT THIS IS THE THIRD CHAPTER SHIT I CANT RESIST

[morning-sun-brah]

Okay so I've just GOTTA know... how the hell do you write the way you do?? I haven't been able to get sucked into any written work since high school, trauma brain and all. I used to live in books so it's been hell, but your writing got me back into reading, and makes it so I can get lost into that little world again, which I've craved but been able to have for like... so long. Writing is something I've always been into, but I let my fear of failure and need for perfection stop me. Just... do you have any advice for beginners?? It would mean the world to me, but I understand if it's an annoying ask! Thanks for reading no matter what!

Well I am just a mess reading this (in the best way possible).

First of all, thank you so much omfg. And of COURSE it isn't annoying! This is so flattering I'm about to cry my dude.

As far as tips on writing, I feel like I am not the person to ask because I'm just this little weirdo on the internet who likes turtles lol. But!! In an attempt to try and give real advice here is my response... and it got a little wordy so it's all under the break lmaoooo.

~Gin's rambling attempt to give writing advice~

Practice! Literally the only reason I can string coherent words together is because I've been doing this as a hobby for like two whole decades.

Also!! Read! Consuming other fics and books really helps. Sometimes you find a way of saying something that sticks with you. Sometimes you sit and think "I would have done it this way/said it this way." Sometimes you come out on the other end and go "Wow I am a hack that was amazing." Sometimes you finish something and go "Wow that was fucking terrible I'm amazing." Sometimes you read something and it fires off your brain, and you are left itching to write your own story. But however you feel, it's all GOOD FOR WRITING. It helps you grow! It literally helps you find your voice!

Other little things; When I write, I truly immerse myself. I am playing out in cinema format what is happening in the "scene." How is this person reacting? How do they look- down to facial expressions. How are they feeling? Is this something they would say? (would they fucking say that??? is something I think to myself every time I open a doc) And when I write it all down, I try my very best to convey that "scene" that played out in my head. I try to capture that character's voice, their mannerisms, their habits.

Does this even make sense? I sure hope so.

Also, flow. Make sure we're moving right along. Keep track of where hands, legs, and torsos are. If they were sitting when the scene started, and you need them standing to kiss or fight or do a thumb war, at some point you need to make sure you say they stood up. If a hand was on a cheek, it can't suddenly be on an ankle without telling the reader what happened.

I also just think adding little details helps with immersion. When we talk to people, we don't just stand around. We fidget. We pick our nails or scratch our arms or shuffle our feet. All those little details can add to that immersion (or I think so, I'm no expert). "He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck before saying..." - Wow, what an awkward little shit. "They scrunched their nose and gave a near-violent eye-roll" - Oh ok they are annoyed! "She shifted her feet and replied"- cool she's being a person, I shift my feet too, neato.

Anyway, nothing I wrote 20 years ago is as good as it is now. I'm highly convinced that I'll think the same thing in another 10 years, about anything I've published recently. But it is getting better, and it's because I keep at it. Having friends in the fandom and beta readers really helps. Make sure you find someone who you know will be positive but honest. And remember, YOU are always going to be your own worst critic.

God why did anyone ever let me have access to a computer. Why the FUCK is this so long? Does it even make sense? Jfc, I'm going to post it and eat a fucking cookie.

I believe in you anon. Also, I love you and thank you so much for making my whole week. I'm going to be so obnoxious about this shit, everyone expect to hear from my ass an annoying amount (kidding, but seriously I'm so fucking flattered thank you so much. This kind of shit makes me wonder what the fuck you're all reading because I swear I am just a silly gal with seasonal depression who needs a haircut).

((Also, anon, I wish you nothing but the best. Take care of yourself, be kind to yourself, and know that I am sending you like a million hugs))

[siriuslysatorusimping]

I absolutely LOVE this series! And especially Rinko and just how 3 dimensional she feels as a character!

Her and Gojo's dynamic is just 🤌*chefs kiss*

And you do such a good job to keep Gojo in character! Every dialogue and decision he makes just feels so Gojo and I love how their personalities complement each other and clash sometimes as well because of their respective past and traumas

We love the healthy communication and boundary respect✨️✨️

But i wanted to ask what is everyones ages currently? Rinko and Gojo but also Megumi because his age has always confused me in canon from when exactly Gojo found him.

And also has Shoko ever opened up to Rinko about Geto? and maybe how Gojo distanced himself after as well?

Thank you SO MUCH 🥹🥹 I'm so glad you're enjoying it!! I love the characters and I find it so fun writing them together 😊

The comments and asks people send make my day, truly.

My full response, because I am a wordy bitch, will be under the cut!!

(A note after I have finished writing this response, I am SO SORRY for how long this post is... 🫠)

Read Another Level on AO3 :)

Rinko, Rinko/Gojo dynamic, Trauma

I think maybe I've mentioned it before, but Rinko has quickly become one of my favorite OCs I've ever written. She's strong, sassy, and so fun to write because of how much I've gotten to develop her character.

Her relationship with Gojo is fun because it's so antagonistic but also based so deeply on trust and mutual respect that their entire friendship and relationship would be impossible without. She knows he doesn't respect people hardly at all, but he's made it very clear, since after their very first fight, that he has respect for her.

They both have so much trauma. And they are both so messy. And it makes them so fun to write because it makes them so human.

Their dynamic is also perfect because of how they are with conflict:

Rinko will avoid conflict. She runs as fast as she can because if she runs before the conflict, she can't be rejected after the conflict. She will stand her ground when she has to (Last Stand, eh?) but she will run when she can. She's lived her entire life being told she was an unwanted mistake, dealing with rejection in so many ways. (But you can't reject her if she's already gone.) Remember in Hollow Echoes? When Gojo was actually trying to get her to talk to him and she was avoiding him? When she tells herself he doesn't want to see or talk to her even though he is insistently texting her? This bitch really trying to be a track star with how much she will run.

Gojo, on the other hand, will chase. He doesn't let her hide away. He respects her space when she needs it, just as he asks of her, but when he knows she's just running to run? He is relentless. He is a brute force kind of person. He is all 'pay attention to me because I'm the greatest and strongest and chosen one' and when he knows it's not violating her boundaries, he will push and push until she lets him in. But it's why he's so insistent on understanding where her boundaries are, so that he can tell when he's nearing a line.

As they grow together, she starts to become more comfortable with pushing him when she knows he needs it. She'll stand her ground with him more often and it's going to be beautiful. Because we'll see that he doesn't mind her pushing him when she asks first instead of assuming.

Gojo's character

BRUH 💀 I just really love blue-eyed, overly confident, cocksure fuckers, who are secretly so FUCKING SOFT, I guess. I actually have a different character in an original work of mine, who is similar to Gojo in SO MANY WAYS that it's scary. I think it might be what made me fall in love with Gojo so quickly when I first got into JJK.

But as for Gojo: His character is so multidimensional while seeming so damn shallow at the same time. And that is really fun to write. Because at the end of the day: the asshole is absolutely so fucking shallow and selfish. He cares about Rinko, but their entire dynamic started because he was a cocky shit who hated that someone beat him.

His initial attraction to Rinko started because he wanted to break her and prove he was stronger until he realized that she already knew and just didn't care. She denied him. And she read him like a fucking book by knowing it would drive him crazy. He knew she wanted him too, and it annoyed him that she turned him down just to get under his skin. And it annoyed him even more that it worked.

It blew him away when, even as she was literally in his lap, having just cum on his fingers right after he spanked her and she still looked him in the eye and stated she should have known he wouldn't be able to make her cum. And it drove him fucking crazy because he'd never, ever been pushed in so many ways.

His multidimensional ass is still based off his arrogance in being the strongest, and that makes him so fun.

✨Healthy Communication and Boundaries✨

That's it. That's this section.

JUST KIDDING.

Okay, but it's built and it works because of mutual trust and respect that is the foundation of it all.

It's displayed so perfectly in how well he reads her in the second part of Hollow Echoes:

“If you can’t speak,” he reached up, grasping her hand in his. “Squeeze my hand twice if your color is red.”

He knew she physically could speak, but that she didn't want to. She didn't want to admit allowed that he had her, and he knew that. And he understood that that was actually a boundary she was unintentionally setting, and he understood that forcing her to speak would be pushing her too far. So he gave her a different way to express her consent and then doubled down on ensuring she knew that she could tell him 'no' at any point and that it was okay.

She gripped his hand tightly, feeling her nails digging into his skin. But she didn’t squeeze again, and he looked up now, his eyes searching her face. She knew he could see how her jaw trembled as she refused to meet his eyes, tears still sliding down the sides of her face. “You know,” he said quietly. “At any point your color changes, you tell me?”

Had she squeezed his hand twice, he would have stopped without question and I just AHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Healthy communication is my kink, guys.

Has Shoko ever opened up about Geto and Gojo growing distant?

Yes and no.

Shoko is a pretty private person. And we've already seen that Rinko doesn't like pushing people to open up. She knew that Shoko was relatively close with both of them, and she knows that it really upset her friend when Geto decided to go a different path and Gojo began distancing himself. But, in our world, it wasn't as jarring for her because she had Rinko.

Rinko and Shoko met early during first year. And Rinko's presence in her life meant she ended up spending less of her off time with Gojo and Geto, and more with Rinko. And when Geto left, and Gojo distanced himself, she just spent more time with Rinko instead of with either of them.

Rinko mentions that she and Shoko used to get lunch at least once a month, but saw each other more often after her semi-grade promotion, so essentially, if she wasn't with Gojo or Nanami while she was in Tokyo, she was with Shoko.

As a small spoiler, we will be getting a single chapter from Shoko's perspective in the future 😊 And it'll give a bit of a different perspective and view of Rinko and how well the two know each other.

Lastly for this, we also have to remember that Shoko doesn't really show emotions that often. She's pretty shrewd and straightforward, but we'll get to see her panic a few times because of Rinko over the course of the series.

Character Ages

Ah! I've been planning on posting something about this!! So I'll take this chance and then probably make a larger, separate post about it.

A quick answer: As of Innate Issues - Part 2, Rinko is 26.

Gojo Satoru was born on December 7, 1989.

Kurisaki Rinko was born on October 18, 1989.

Rinko is a little less than two months OLDER than Gojo. So he'll eventually make a joke about liking older women. I don't know when, but he's the kind of little shit that would.

Maki and Mai were born on January 20, 2002.

Megumi was born on December 22, 2002.

Gojo met Megumi not long after killing Toji, and had been visiting him occasionally for a few years when he met Rinko. In the flashback in Strength in Numbers, he had just made the connection between why Toji had ever cared about having Rinko's help, prompting him to bring Megumi up. Early-mid 2012, Megumi was nine and would turn ten that December.

Below, I've included our timeline up until where we are right now, broken down by Title, Rinko's Age, Year, and Month:

---

AHHHH I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG I HATE HOW WORDY I GET SOMETIMES 😭😭😭

[emjae]

i think i don't hate you ²

diluc x gn!reader

following the acting grandmaster and her girlfriend librarian's talk with y/n about their feelings towards diluc, they decide to act on it tonight. after a few drinks with a few hisses thrown at their friends kaeya and venti, they begin their conversation with the winery owner with a heavy heart.

2.6k words

tw: drinking of alcohol, traumatic past go brr, related to the manga, angsty beginning but it's probably gonna get a whole lot worse in the next chap, pretty wordy; also goes a bit into depth about the feeling of isolation

* reader will be referred to as y/n here, yes diluc makes an appearance yeheyyy

If sounds could have emotions, then the plop your body made as it met the couch was definitely exhausted. You had just come back from the Favonius Headquarters and the walk was boring and tiring, piling unto the hours and hours of work you'd done with Jean and Lisa. Earlier, when you were about to leave, Kaeya stopped you and invited you out to the tavern, which was definitely the last place you wanted to be. Sure, Charles is always the one manning the bar but Diluc always makes unannounced drops and judging from your luck, he'd most likely be there tonight. So, naturally, you declined and did a rain check.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling blankly and thinking about everything your life ever meant (which was to be Diluc's top one struggle, problem, and enemy). He did some pretty bad shit to you after Lord Crepus passed. You gave him what he needed: time, space, and comfort while Diluc gave you the complete opposite.

That's right. Once upon a time, you two were friends—great friends, really. But once someone fucks up that bad, everything you've ever had was tossed into the fire.

Every moment of his eighteenth birthday was vaguely remembered for your head was really foggy and was mostly fueled by a lot of negative emotions. After a few insults here and there, you also recall breaking down and crouching for a healthy five seconds before standing up and telling Diluc how tired you felt. The rest after that, you'd never forget.

"If you're so tired, maybe you should leave me," he laughed dryly and exhausted. You scoffed, running a hand through your hair.

"I never said anything about leaving you, Luc. I'm trying to be your friend here, I want to be there for you but I can't do that if you keep pushing me away!"

The maids had left a long while ago after Diluc dismissed them when you'd started raising your voice. Elzer felt compelled to stay for your and Diluc's support but left as well when things started getting personal. You two had been fighting, screaming for hours. By then, your guys' breathing were as heavy as the weight on your chests.

Hands and jaws clenched; chests heaving; tears pooling. This had to be the most emotional day in your life—it was a big fat lie when you said you didn't remember when was the last time you'd cried. It was precisely mid May, four years ago after the tragic events on Diluc’s birthday.

"I'm not asking you to be there for me," he says, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "I never did."

Your eyes widened at this. Something bubbled in your chest—it wasn't anger anymore. You could feel Diluc watch you as if you were some lunatic, in which you did feel like one. Fighting your best friend over something like this? It was ridiculous.

"You're not thinking straight; you're in mourning right now. I'll come back to check on you tomo—"

"Didn't I just say that I don't need you here? Just go, I don't want to see you again," he looks away, yet there was no shame laced in his voice as he said that. You swallowed, hard. Another laugh leaves you but you shut yourself up by breathing in slowly. It took you one blink to get the tears falling.

"Diluc, please," you whisper, stepping closer to him. Yet he stepped away. "You need someone now more than ever, let me be that someone. I want to be, it's not– I don't –"

"It's not what? An obligation? Responsibility?" He finally looks up, advancing towards you and looking you straight in the eye—his crimson reds glossed in tears just as yours. He whispered as if raising his voice would make the tears spill over. "So go. I don't need you."

You could feel your throat closing up, followed by a sob. Your arms raised to his waist, wanting to hug him, but you pull them back before you could touch him. "Don't hate me for anything. I tried to be what you needed, but if you don't want that, so be it," wavered your voice as you said this, walking backward until your hand felt the doorknob. "I love you, Luc, alright? So I'm sorry if my feelings change."

And so the door shut. And once again, Diluc was alone.

Suddenly, your vision of the ceiling blurred. When you blinked, something wet trailed down your temple. Tears? Oh. You were crying.

A groan left you as you sat up straight and wiped them away. You would drink your sorrows away at the Cat's Tail if it weren't for your deadly allergies. Maybe you should take up that offer with Kaeya. You hadn't thought of that day in a while now. Perhaps it's a good thing you saw Diluc tonight, you two could straighten out everything and unpack all your emotional baggage.

"Good Gods, let’s just get this over with,” you say and get up, grabbing your coat and leaving.

You lived a good few blocks from the tavern. You always had to use the long way because of the gods-forsaken amount of cats lying outside and inside of Cat’s Tail. The walk was never too long but never too short, however, with the number of thoughts running around your head, it felt like it was way, way, way too long.

Although you were dazed out for most of the trip, your legs made it to Angel’s easily. What should you say, do if you see him? Good Celestia, what if you make eye contact? That’s the worst type of interaction anyone ever has to go through.

The night you said it—the I love you part—you initially meant it as a friend. Back then, you’d always said that to each other as a joke at first, like a sigh of relief when a favor was done by one another, or when one of you saves the other’s ass. You two went through a lot and for a long time too, it was natural that some form of platonic/familial love grew in the midst of that.

But now that you think of it. . . at that moment, maybe you did mean it in another way. You couldn’t remember; again, you were fueled by lots of negative emotions. Before you could process what you had said, you were already out the door. Elzer was sat outside by the staircase and was alerted by the door. The minute he’d seen your red, tear-stained face, he stood up and ran over to you and offered to get you a ride home. Thank the Archons for him, by the way.

Before you knew it, you had arrived at the Angel’s Share, staring at the door like some idiot. Another groan leaves you yet again. A long groan that went on for five seconds until you lazily pushed down the doorknob and entered.

“Ah, captain! I thought you weren’t available tonight?” Kaeya greets. Despite hearing his voice first, you already had your eyes on the bar and who was managing it. Despite it being Charles, it still made you feel kind of. . . not relieved.

“Sorry, Alberich. Changed my mind last minute,” you smile softly and took a seat. “Something really strong, make it three.” Kaeya’s eyes flew wide at this, chuckling in amusement.

“Ohoho, what brought this on? Stressful day in the office?” he prods, swirling a glass of wine in one hand while he leaned his cheek on the other. “Don’t answer yet, I’d like to guess.” He takes a sip of his wine slowly, looking for an answer.

“Anything go through your wine-fed brain, friend?” you ask sarcastically while muttering a “thank you” to Charles who had just slipped three glasses of whatever strong alcohol they had on hand. Kaeya clicks his tongue and takes another sip of his wine.

“Too much paperwork?”

“Similar to your first.”

“That sounded. . . oddly sexual? Ooh! Ditched a one-night stand?”

“What? No! Last guess,” you cringe, both at Kaeya and the drink. Your friend and colleague turns to you and looks you in the eye—a very uncomfortable move for you, for some reason. You tried to scooch away, but he scooches closer.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I gi—ooh! Is it love~?” he sings, catching the attention of Venti who had just walked in.

“Love? Now, this is the kind of juice I’d drink that isn’t grape juice,” the young bard grumbles as he takes the seat next to you, furthest away from Kaeya and closest to the wall, a spot he always occupies when you drink with the two. “What’s this about love? Is a certain someone in looove?” Venti giggles as if he were already drunk despite the fact that he was nowhere near touching a glass.

You huff and cross your legs as you down the entire glass. “Mhm, that’s not good,” Kaeya mutters and snatches the empty glass from you. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” you mope into your hands. “Kaeya, did you ever smooth things out with you and L– Diluc after. . . you know?”

Kaeya gives you a puzzled look, just as Venti did. “Why’re you asking?”

“I may kind of, perhaps, maybe have thoughts about doing just that.”

“What? Why? When? Why???”

“Smoothen what? What’s the big deal?” Venti chimes in, thanking Charles for his wine.

You and Kaeya wince at the question, visibly and internally tensing up. “And did I forget to ask why?”

“Exactly three times, and besides, I just. . . it’s been weighing on me—”

“Oh my, GODS, Diluc is the dude you like?”

“No!” Venti gasps dramatically, slapping a hand over his mouth. Your heads slowly turn to him, to which he gets the message and sinks back. “Shutting up,” he says with his hand still over his mouth.

You turn back to Kaeya and reach out for your second glass. “Yes. Maybe. Kind of? I don’t know! Listen, Lisa and Jean were just teasing me and then things got a little serious and when I got home, all I could think of was that day. Night? I can’t even remember anymore,” followed by you downing the glass again.

Kaeya sighs and sets down his glass. “You know that I’m all about helping you but Diluc? As much as I want to be his brother again, him being your friend is off the list. What he said and did isn’t forgivable,” he says, seriously this time. The usually carefree Kaeya must’ve been shocked out of his body.

“I know, I know, but that’s exactly why I need to fix things between us. It’s been four years, Kae. Plus, we weren't thinking straight. When you're that overwhelmed, you would’ve said anything. He did exactly that—”

“So why are you thinking of letting this go?!"

"Because! Despite everything he said and did, and all the swearing at each other the last four years, and the awkward encounters in public that lead to little roast battles, I think everything I ever felt for him is still there. Was and never left," you hid your face behind your hands again, confused and extremely unsure of what to do. Venti, who you kind of forgot was still by you, placed a hand on your shoulder. "Look at me, I'm acting like some lovesick dick."

Kaeya sighs, drinking a bit more of his wine and watches as you do the same. "I think you should talk to Master Diluc," Venti says and snatches a bottle of wine from behind the counter when Charles wasn't looking. "I may not know what's going on between you guys but you should go with my advice 'cause I'm always right," he shrugs and takes a nice long swig that took three whole gulps. "B'sides, it's been four years! That's like. . . four years!"

"Thank you, Venti, for your wonderful insight," you turn to Kaeya. "See? He agrees."

"That's because he doesn't know anything about what happened. You deserve better, Y/N!"

Another groan leaves you, irritated by the fact that you didn't know what to do. "And how is Venti already wasted?"

Kaeya laughs lightly, swirling his glass and begins a new topic, the front door of the tavern opens with a tiny jingle. Neither of the three turn and continue to softly converse among themselves until Charles leaves his spot just as Venti was about to ask for another refill.

"Master Diluc, thank you for taking over my shift for me."

Your entire body freezes. Drats. The entire reason for your presence in Angel's was to drink your problems about Diluc away and to avoid him, not to drink in front of him now while you're still trying to figure out if you wanted to reconcile or leave things as is. Why must making amends be so difficult? Is it a trauma response thing?

"It's no problem, Charles," says the voice you so didn't want to hear tonight. Kaeya nudges you with his elbow, gesturing to the second floor with a raised brow. An easy signal to get, so you slowly move your head to nod, but then change your mind midway and end up shaking your head. The cavalry captain shrugs, asking why. You shrug back, confused about your answer too. "Give my birthday wishes to your daughters as well. Enjoy your time," followed by his boots softly clicking on the floor and Charles's slowly fading away.

"I will, Master Diluc. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care."

When the door shut with that jingle again, the four of you remained awkwardly, hellishly silent. Six Fingered Jose's lyre and the hushed conversations from throughout the tavern thankfully made the silence between you all less insufferable, including the occasional loud laughter from the celebrating people from the Adventurer's Guild by the corner. Even as Diluc filled Venti's cup with hesitance and a very evident roll of his eyes, he still felt uneasy by your quietness. No catty comment as a substitute for a welcome? No dissing of his grape juice in his face while calling him nicknames related to his favorite beverage? Nothing?

Admittedly, it was a new feeling. Different, but in an uncomfortable way. You could feel his vermillion eyes staring at you with the slightest bit of concern while he put away the now-empty wine bottle (courtesy of yours truly) into the full crate of glass bottles carefully. Sighing, he picks up the bin and walks out the door to discard the trash.

When the door jingles close, Kaeya leans in. "What the hell?"

"What now?" you complain out loud, making Venti giggle.

"You made Y/N mad~" he burps out cheers-ing to no one in particular before downing the very glass.

"That was so much tension—and I'm saying that, me, the absolute god and king of tension!" Kaeya whisper-yells at you, desperately finding ways to change your mind and forget about anything related to his brother.

“Oh calm down you big baby, I’ll handle things myself.” That was a lie, a cold-faced lie. Sure, you can carry your own weight but confrontation, where your feelings are involved, isn’t your forte. “Just trust me on this, would you?”

Kaeya purses his lips then leans over to Venti, who was already passed out on the counter, and retreats with another sigh. “I have work early in the morning so I have to go, but I’m leaving my door open for you in anything goes wrong, alright?”

Your eyes soften at your friend’s support before nodding. “And–”

“Bring this little guy with me, yes.”

Your fellow captain picks up Venti and easily piggy-backs him and walks over to the door, but not without giving you a small, reassuring smile. You return the favor with a wave. Before Kaeya could open the door, it jingled open, a man clad in black and red filing in.

Here we go.

be in the taglist? just dm me!

taglist:

@lez-zuha

@dancing-hillary

[liskantope]

Growing up, to my knowledge the default way for two adults to argue was to have an angry fight -- I mean raised voices if not outright shouting at each other, constantly interrupting each other, anger and aggression generally taking over, which I assumed to be the universal definition of fight. This was certainly the way of my parents, even if they didn't like it and made some efforts to mitigate their communication breaking down into this mode; as long as there were strong enough disagreements that needed to be aired, it seemed inevitable that such an unpleasantly hostile scene would eventually take place. And as far as I could tell, there was nothing at all unusual about my parents or the amount of shouting fights that took place in my house: I assumed (and I still think probably correctly) that this kind of event took place with some regularity in most other households as well.

But when I think now to my friends' relationships (and even my own close roommate or practically-living-together relationships, platonic and otherwise), for some reason I have a harder time picturing much of this happening. It's not that I have any kind of direct knowledge of how my friends and their partners interact behind closed doors, it's just that in the cases of people I know really well, I simply don't imagine them resorting to handling disagreements in this way. (In the case of one couple I know really well, who I am still close friends with, I was actually in the room for their "first fight" as well as at least one other one, and neither of them at any point so much as raised their voice or quickened their speech -- they might have even slowed down.) It's not that all of my generational peers hash out contentious social issues in the carefully analyzing and qualifying and very wordy way that I tend to write about such things in blog posts, nor that they don't get angry or otherwise emotional. It's that they (I think) generally have better tools for confrontation at their disposal and prioritize avoiding the perhaps more traditional, nasty, screaming-at-each-other brand of conflict resolution, even if that's possibly what they grew up with.

I can't help thinking this is a generational thing, like people who grew up around the same time as I did (or later) are generally more in touch with how to process feelings and differences with others in intimate situations, and are even perhaps more emotionally intelligent and/or self-aware in general, I don't know. I definitely don't shy away from criticizing some of the values, mindsets, and tendencies of my generation and younger on this blog, but this is a very positive trait I'm inclined to hand to them for sure.

[atamascolily]

first lines meme

Thanks to @virusq for tagging me! Skipping over multichapters and nonfiction/meta here to focus on shorts and one-shots.

Too weak to stand, Xie Ying Luo crawled. - Of Use (Thunderbolt Fantasy)

After Maomao had left the Inner Palace for good, Gaoshun found Jinshi huddled on his knees in the corner of his office surrounded by a sickly purple aura. - Mushroom Hunting (The Apothecary Diaries)

Homura woke before her alarm, as she always did--somehow, she knew what time it was without needing a clock and would jerk from a sound sleep to full alertness in seconds at precisely the right moment. -wake me up before you go-go (PMMM)

Ichigo Kurosaki never thought he'd see the day where he was grateful for the end of summer vacation, but the first week of the fall semester came as an immense relief. - Catching Up (Bleach x PMMM)

Your name is Mai Kawasumi and though you are a senior in high school, you are also an accomplished demon hunter who keeps the city safe by dispatching the monsters that no one else can see. -Demon's Serenade (Kanon x PMMM)

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? - Chicken and Egg (Null Magical Girl)

"Are you sure about this?" - Puppetmaster (Thunderbolt Fantasy)

"Mistress Frieren," Fern said sternly to the small figure crouched expectantly in front of a suspicious-looking wooden treasure chest tucked away in a corner of the dungeon. "You do realize that's a mimic, right?" -Improbable Odds (Sousou no Frieren)

The wild swans came down from the north in early autumn, the whistling of their wings echoing across the lake in the growing twilight. - Transmigration (Princess Tutu)

For a region supposedly devastated by the War of Fading Dusk, the Wasteland of Spirits contained no end of hostile inhabitants, all of them out for blood. -Unexpected Interference (Thunderbolt Fantasy x PMMM)

As you can see, I try to make sure my first line either functional (i.e., tells you who it's about and where in canon we are, if relevant) OR thematic. In other words, it explains either the setting or the what it's about--and sometimes, if I'm very lucky, both at once, as in the Homura one.

Stories are fractal, so I find it pleasing when the first sentence encapsulates the whole of the story in microcosm. I don't always achieve that, of course, but it's nice when it happens. So the fic about consent play begins with a question about consent; the story about wild swans and seasonal migration begins with their appearance; the story about fighting monsters in a wasteland begins with the dry observation that there's actually quite a lot going on in a supposedly empty landscape. And so on.

Because of this, I have a tendency for wordy first sentences, so it's nice to see I actually do vary my pacing a bit. I recall someone telling me once that you should never start with dialogue or a question, which, like most writing rules, can be safely ignored.

That said, I usually think of it more as "first paragraph" rather than first sentence, as you can see with the Frieren one. Anything I can't cram into the first sentence goes later in the paragraph if possible:

The wild swans came down from the north in early autumn, the whistling of their wings echoing across the lake in the growing twilight. Fakir stood on the dock with his neck craned and admired their fluid grace. In the water beside him, Ahiru watched too with her usual anatid inscrutability. Still, he couldn't help wondering if she wished she might follow them--if this little lake and his company weren't enough for her compared to the wide world beyond.

Here is the whole conflict of the story laid out--post-canon Fakir looks up at the swans, and he's wondering what Ahiru is thinking, and projecting his own ideas onto her because she cannot communicate in words. Everything that follows comes from this, and this is the image we ultimately return to at the end, with Fakir looking up at the swans once again--this time, hoping to see Ahiru and hoping she'll return, and the question of whether he is "enough" for her is finally resolved with her (non-verbal) answer.

In journalism, first lines/paragraphs are called "ledes", which I think is a great word, because you want to lead the reader along with you. Ledes can be any length--in a longer essay, the lede might be several paragraphs vs. a sentence in a short article--but they perform exactly the functions I've described above of explaining what the story is about and where it's going. Sometimes ledes are perfunctory, sometimes they're clever, sometimes the writer accidentally "buries" their lede by putting it later in the article. The lede may not necessarily be the first line, but it often is, and "find the lede" is a great exercise for writers in general.

Learning how to write ledes was the moment I really "clicked" as a writer--up until that point, I'd written thousands if not millions of words, but the spark wasn't there. Suddenly, I got it, and it completely changed my writing and my life. So I have a special fondness for them and they are also one of the hardest things to get "right" in a piece. I don't always succeed, but I keep trying!

[ghostboyjules]

weeeeellllll hey folks! Finally back again - after ages of promising this - with Hob's playlist. I'm definitely not gonna be as wordy this time, mostly because I am Tired™, but hopefully these songs and their lyrics speak for themselves better than I could anyway. I'd like to dedicate this beast to these particular wonderful humans; @wordsinhaled, @wizardofgoodfortune, ily'all 🥺 y'all keep me creative <3 and to @landwriter for the amazing title inspo and just being super dope and having excellent Hob Gadling character takes in general.

This playlist is a lil more structured than Dream's was, so I don't recommend listening on shuffle, at least for the first time through, lol. I also have marked in my notes which songs relate to which like. Span of years, but tbh that could be kinda flexible, so use your heart ig asjhfvafbab Without further ado, below the cut will be my lyric selections and small note thingies. If you've read even this far, I thank you *mwah* (yes there's 30 songs I'm SORRY I can't be stopped 😭)

1389 –

Avi Kaplan – I’m Only Getting Started

[Verse 1]

Eyes clouded, blood on my face

No mercy coming my way

Yeah, I'm only getting started

Cracked knuckles, fist shaking

These rivers run, but I'm staying

Yeah, I'm only getting started

OKAY... thought this was kind of a cool one to open up with, plus the interesting thing about making this playlist is that I feel like I have a very linear sort of character progression to work off of, which is fun.. so this song speaks to me of that rough and tumble merc/bandit Hob of 1389... been through some shit, lost family,

Alice In Chains – Rooster

[Verse 2]

Walkin' tall machine gun man

They spit on me in my homeland

Gloria sent me pictures of my boy, mm-mm

Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death

My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath

Oh God, please, won't you help me make it through? Mm-mm

[Chorus]

Here they come to snuff the Rooster, aw yeah

Yeah, here come the Rooster, yeah

You know he ain't gonna die

No, no, you know he ain't gonna die

this gives me very much merc or soldier Hob, kinda unhinged a lil bit cause he definitely should have died a few times there…but he didn’t.

The Mountain Goats – Up the Wolves

[Verse 1]

There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

No matter where you live

There'll always be a few things, maybe several things

That you're going to find really difficult to forgive

There's gonna come a day when you feel better

You'll rise up free and easy on that day

And float from branch to branch

Lighter than the air

Just when that day is coming, who can say? Who can say?

makes me think about maybe after a long time at war or fighting as a merc or any plethora of things honestly, he’s like struggling with that.

Emigrate, Cardinal Copia – I’m Not Afraid

On the street that I remained

Some have made another hole

Could it be that I'm to blame?

When the ground has turned so cold

Can it be an audacing?

Can it be a guarded hole?

And what we say is just a game

The one we play 'til we get old

All, all the hands I have laid

All written along my face

I'm not afraid of anything

I just let it go

And now I take on everything

To get out from the hole

maybe avoiding thinking about things just so that he’s able to be the kind of man he wants to be rather than the kind the world is wanting to turn him into…but then he has to think abt them to come to terms with them (also no matter what I do,it will not recognize 'audacing' as a word but I googled it and everything so...lmao)

1489 -

Ryn Weaver – New Constellations

[Verse 2]

There's no walls and no ceilings as far as I know

Just the echoes of scars and the unbeaten road

Trip the gun on cautions that I've been sold

'Cause it's hard to believe that it's wrong to want more

Than the truest of blue and a love like a roar

I will run to wherever I want to go, oh

[Chorus 2]

Charting Neptune by the fire of the Sun

I'm looking for new constellations, new constellations

[Verse 3]

So keep callin' me crazy 'cause I never learned

You should stop loving fire because you got burned

Now it feels like I'm living some sick déjà vu

Like the answers were there when I stared into you

"What if there's more? What if there's more?" The more I look into this the more I want to cry about 1489 Hob and all the things he's seen.. I was on the Wiki page for ‘Spherical Earth’ and the years it was giving me... god he sure was just. there for that. the number of things we know to be just. absolute FACT, now that were kinda up in the air for the majority of his 600+ years??? are you kidding me? the maps the books the science the

Dawes – Living In The Future

[Verse 1]

I know all of my exits

I'm always planning my escape

It's the most aggressive symptom

Of this collective phantom pain

And the more that you ignore it

The more it makes you go insane

Just look around

[Chorus]

We're living in the future, so shine a little light

It may not make it any better, I'm just hoping that it might

I'm not talking about forever, how about just getting through the night?

We're living in the future, so shine a little light

ANXIETY… doesn’t wanna be caught being immortal…but also amazed and trying to see the brighter side of things, wanting to learn

Good Tiger – Salt of the Earth (Acoustic)

I tightened my grip

Around my bow

I'll try to save you all

Knuckles turning white

Blood runs cold

There's a boy with no face

I don't feel there's much separation

I'm an animal

Hope leaves when the waves come crashing

I've never been a religious man

But I'm slipping under drowning

In your eyes

I've never been a religious man

But I'm slipping under drowning

In your

More themes of being animalistic.. kinda nightmare-ish huh … this makes me think of maybe him having nightmares trying to help him understand how he really felt about all the killing he’s had to do, while also hungering so so deeply for more. More life, more knowledge, more people, more experiences. An animal wanting ..

1589 –

Hozier – Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

[Verse 2]

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I

Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet

Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile

It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

[Verse 3]

In leash-less confusion, I'll wander the concrete

Wonder if better now having survived

The jarring of judgement and reason's defeat the sweet

Heat of her breath in my mouth; I'm alive

I’m looking at this song as him falling in love with Eleanor, and I really like whenever they’re depicted as having this kind of.. definitely unconventional type of relationship for the time, and also maybe both being just a smidge unhinged, because Hob certainly is and I could absolutely see him being smitten with Eleanor because she’s maybe, kind of odd or something.. who’s to say..

Fair to Midland – A Seafarer’s Knot

[Verse 1]

Lucky are the leaves of the clover

She's digging for chemistry with the butcher's tools

Shifty are the eyes of the gambler

He's making his tricks his trade, and a job well done

[Pre-Chorus]

Through the motions, waving wishes

To your confidence and eloquence

[Chorus]

He's turning a-green from these envious glorious things

Applied ambitious faith that can keep us all safe

Invoking a blue that's meant for us too

What small amazing things we will turn to rain

Fair to Midland is one of my favorite bands of all time, so I was saving them for something special lol. A lot of the time Darrow’s lyrics don’t make.. a huuge amount of linear sense, but I feel like these are straightforward enough to take enough meaning. This, to me, feels like an examination of what Hob did to get to 1589, and perhaps some of the feelings behind that.

(bonus, made me think of the toast scene…ow)

[Bridge]

Gather 'round, hold your glasses up high

Drink to love while we wait for high tide

Keep it short, keep it brief, you have my word

Gather 'round while we wait for high tide

Everything Everything – Blast Doors

[Chorus]

Down in my beast heart, I build an empire

Whenever I'm blind, I open my wild eye

(repeated)

[Bridge]

I hear the death rattle of a time wasted

Time wasted

You know that I believe in it

You know that I believe in it

But I'm wasted

Back again with ‘animal hunger’ Hob. With this one I was really thinking about how… he really wanted to impress his stranger… only to be barely spoken to and then walked away from with no explanation. Like yes that hurts initially, but I’m thinking about all of the things he had to do to get there, I’m sure he didn’t like a lot of it.. and then to find out he pretty much wasted a lot of his time for an idea that had turned out to be wrong? oof

Ray LaMontagne – Such a Simple Thing

[Verse 2]

Take it if you want it

I'm so tired I just don't care

Can't you see how much you hurt me?

It's like I wasn't there

[Chorus]

Tell me what your heart wants

Such a simple thing

My heart is like paper

Yours is like a flame

I mean… -motions to lyrics- asfjvnfnb. Teehee abandonment issues lolololol

1689 –

40 Watt Sun – Stages

If I was only wise enough

To know everything sure and true about myself

You would not be here

What have I brought you to, my love, that you have followed me?

It is all my heart is worth

And more than I would ask of you

Y’all I’m so sorry that this is a 16 min song aldkfjgadj feel free to like, just look at the lyrics if you don’t have the brain space for the full thing, but I kind of forgot that it was so long until after I was so set on it 💀

Sleeping at Last – Jupiter

[Verse]

Wrote it down in the winter of 1610

Just a secret under lock and key until then

While collecting the stars, I connected the dots

I don't know who I am, but now I know who I'm not

This song always has and always will ruin me,, I just love the line “I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not” honestly just everything about that song… make my messes matter, make this chaos count.. (also had to include because.. 1610 lol)

Gregory Alan Isakov – If I Go, I’m Goin

And I will go if you ask me to

I will stay if you dare

And if I go, I'm goin' shameless

Let my hunger take me there

This house, she's quite the talker

She creaks and moans, she keeps me up

And the photographs know I'm a liar

They just laugh as I burn her down

This song just has very Hob energy, like I feel like he would like it, as well, but also just OOOOOOFFFF this do be hurtin….

The Moody Blues – Melancholy Man

[Chorus]

I'm a melancholy man, that's what I am

All the world surrounds me and my feet are on the ground

I'm a very lonely man, doing what I can

All the world astounds me and I think I understand

That we're going to keep growing, wait and see

Another case of -motions to lyrics- tbh

1789 –

Sleeping at Last – Pluto

[Chorus]

Until one day I had enough

Of this exercise of trust

I leaned in and let it hurt

And let my body feel the dirt

When I break pattern, I break ground

I rebuild when I break down

I wake up more awake than I've ever been before

“I rebuild when I break down” this is put here specifically to signify his,, literal rebuilding of himself after the struggle of the previous century,..

The Deep Dark Woods – The Place I Left Behind

I'm a good ole ramblin' boy

Now that's just what I am

This fair land that you call yours

I do not give a damn

I've got the ramblin' fever down in my bones

And everywhere that I wanna go

The only place that I ever loved

Is a place I left behind

Discontent, I think, with where he’s at currently. Still missing and grieving his family, I imagine he probably spends these years pretty alone, and that could be why he seemingly turns his goddamn brain off -_-

Tunng – Fatally Human

Fatally human

We hover in the world

Fatal someone

We flounder in the dark

Take hold of another

Go mad in a moment

The soil and the wonder

Sway to the terror

There’s not really a lot I can say here, but. Yeah.

1889 –

The Oh Hellos – I Have Made Mistakes

I have made mistakes

I have made mistakes, I continue to make them

And the promises I've made

The promises I've made, I continue to break them

And all the doubts I've faced

All the doubts I've faced, I continue to face them

But nothing is a waste

Nothing is a waste, if you learn from it

This song sounds like how Hob looks when he makes that little jab at himself about making and learning from mistakes… couldn’t get that idea out of my head. Plus this song just really hits.

Greg Puciato – Through the Walls

Winter, I'm out of tune

Heating frozen stars

I'll keep spilling my guts out to you

Wherever you are

Dragging my anchor through you

I want you to know

Me before this night is through

Then you'll never go

Careful to not disappear

Offering dreams to the dawn

Nothing's impossible here

Still we can't go on

I didn’t want to make anything TOO outwardly Dreamling, but like… this song, omg…

Tubeway Army – Are ‘Friends’ Electric?

[Chorus 1]

So now I'm alone

Now I can think for myself

About little deals and S.U's

And things that I just don't understand

Like a white lie at night

Or a sly touch at times

I don't think it meant anything to you

[Verse 3]

So I open the door

It's the 'friend' that I'd left in the hallway

"Please sit down."

A candlelit shadow on a wall near the bed

Made that last comment and then there’s this song WHOOPS sdkfgadfbaasfjghfb

1989 –

Marina – To Be Human

[Chorus]

All the people living in, living in the world today

We're united by our love, we're united by our pain (Ooh)

All the things that I've done and I've seen

Still, I don't know, don't know what it means

All of the little name drops and the meanings and.. it just gave me very much the century flying by so violently but also colorfully and SO much happening..

Orville Peck – Dead of Night

[Verse 3]

Six summers down, another dreamless night

You're not by my side

Scratch on the moon like a familiar smile

Stained on my mind

Some other town, someone else's life

Dead in the night

In the night

Ofc I had to add Orville… this song and it’s placement… I wanted it to feel purposeful, and I hope it does. Character and theme-wise, and also like irl things happening in those decades..

Danny Schmidt – This Too Shall Pass

[Verse 3]

We think too big, we think our self is one whole thing

And we claim that this collection has a name and is a being

But deep inside when every cell divides

Well, it sets upon the rule that states self-interest is divine

[Verse 4]

And cancer too lives by this golden rule:

That you must do unto the others as the others unto you

All for the best, because it's all that life accepts

And so we kill it like a buffalo: with awe and with respect

This song also gives me overall Hob vibes, musically and lyrically, but.. I just think about the kind of friends he made and the things he tried to do in this century. Helping the people he could and loving those he couldn’t help. The knowledge that yes, this too shall pass…

1990’s-ish – Went on a lil’bit of a bender

Alice in Chains – Would?

[Verse 2]

Drifting body, its sole desertion

Flying, not yet quite the notion

[Chorus]

Into the flood again

Same old trip it was back then

So I made a big mistake

Try to see it once my way

I feel like after 1989.. and the overwhelming barrage of a century that was, I feel like he has some, emotions to sort through. N and I talked a lot about grunge phase 90’s Hob and like yes very much influential here, but I think I’d associate him with Alice in Chains, regardless. Stone Temple Pilots too, I think.. there’s more lmao

Def Leppard – Animal

[Verse 1]

A wild ride, over stony ground

Such a lust for life, the circus comes to town

We are the hungry ones, on a lightning raid

Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame

Oh, I burn for you

[Chorus]

I got to feel it in my blood, whoa, oh

I need your touch don't need your love, whoa, oh

And I want, and I need, and I lust, animal

And I want, and I need, and I lust, animal

This man fucks. Obvi

2022 –

The National – I Am Easy To Find

[Verse 1]

How long have we been here?

Am I ever coming down?

I need to find some lower thinking, if I'm going to stick around

I'm not going anywhere

Who do I think I'm kidding?

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing

[Chorus]

I am easy to find

The National will always be my favorite sad Dad band, I cherish them. I feel like Hob would also like them, but this song of course had to be added because. “I am easy to find.” …. ach

The Narcissist Cookbook – Joy! Joy! JoooOOY!

[Verse 2]

Tonight let's turn the shower on

Full blast and hot

Lie down in the bath like it's a casket or a cot

We'll try to sleep

But we won't sleep

I thought writing it down might make me wanna stop

But I want more and more

And more of this

Til there's no room in me

There’s not a lot I can say about this one either, just.

Broken Bells – Perfect World

[Verse 1]

Oh, London moon, help me stumble home

Let me lose myself along the way

I've got nothing left, it's kind of wonderful

'Cause there's nothing they can take away... away

[Bridge]

But it's another way to win a useless fight

You've been lying so long don't know when you're faking

See the water on the rise

Just another day into a useless night

I've been pushing so hard now my hands are shaking

See the water on the rise

This song is beautiful. I think I had a religious experience when I heard it for the first time a few years ago,,, it’s also just very much a Hob song to me. Not overly optimistic, but still down for life.. the struggles…

Avi Kaplan – Song For The Thankful

[Verse 3]

Goodbye evening, hello to the night

I'm not seein' the wrong from the right

Walkin' blindly on a path without an end

Then the morning comes and leads me out again

I thought this would be the perfect song to end on.. I hope I’m right.

[technicallyverycowboy]

Writing Patterns

[How to play: Write the opening line from the last ten fics that you posted and see if there are any patterns!]

Tagged by @cryptidafter and @blue-grama <3

1) I Would Eat His Heart - NontPorsche, Playboyy

Porsche doesn’t say much to Nont after he gives up pretending to be Nant and spills out everything he knows.

2) The Edge in Your Affection - FirstSoong, Playboyy

First shows up to Soong's place with a bag stuffed with his unwashed clothes and the sheet he yanked off Zouey's bed.

3) I Can't Be Let Down - BostonRay, Only Friends

Ray met Boston for the first time at Yo’s.

4) By the Edges - VegasPorsche & KinnPorsche, Kinnporsche

The job goes well, for a definition of well that includes a dozen dead men.

5) In Your Doorway - BostonTop, Only Friends

Boston doesn't answer the phone when Top calls.

6) The Lights Didn't Flicker - VegasPete, Kinnporsche

The safehouse slowly becomes their home as the weeks turn into months and no consequences for Pete's happiness and Vegas's life come down on their heads.

7) Both Hands - KinnPorsche, Kinnporsche

"This is so fucking boring," Porsche murmurs.

8) Whatever Else That Touches You - KinnPorsche, Kinnporsche

It's actually Tae who asks first, several bottles of wine into dinner at a very expensive restaurant that Porsche is only slowly getting used to as being what passes for casual among Kinn's friends.

9) Hold Me Like a Grudge - VegasPete, Kinnporsche

Vegas's first mistake was thinking telling his father was the hard part.

Given that being too wordy is often the thing I'm fighting against with my writing, I'm surprised how many of these lines are pretty concise. Also lol at my deep and undying desire to start a story in the middle of or right after some Significant Moment.

[mayalaen]

20 questions for fic writers

@whataboutthefish tagged me - thanks Fishie!!

First, my AO3

How many works do you have on AO3?

191

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2,150,989

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Supernatural, Stranger Things, Fargo, Stargate, Dickensian, The Blacklist, The X-Files, Angel the Series & Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I'm probably gonna pick up a few more soon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse - SPN AU Tumblr Ask Box Requests - SPN 40 ficlet challenge Alpha House 'Verse - SPN AU Resonance 'Verse - SPN canon verse with angel sounds Best Brother Ever - SPN with a technique that has gotten me the most questions from readers saying "does that really work?" Yes it does.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, but sometimes it takes me a while to respond because I get weird and shy about it at times. I love comments and read them over again when I need a boost!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually have angsty endings, but with CH challenge fics I go ahead and do shit I don't normally do - so Inside (SPN) would be the angstiest ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Splintered - ST fic where I throw a lot of shit at the guys but they all get a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yup. I delete comments and asks immediately though so readers and followers hopefully never see any of it. I don't play that game.

9. Do you write smut?

SO MUCH. SOOOOO much.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Open Sesame Street Walker has to be the wildest one I've done. It was a challenge fic. A choose your own adventure style thing, and I wanted to make every outcome disturbing. I did it, but at the cost of ruining Sesame Street for myself and others 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup. CON 'verse is still being sold on a bunch of sites and the "author" is continuing to add more books to the series. I've tried a few times to get them taken down but only succeeded in getting things taken down for a few months. Out of all the fics that could've been stolen, that's the one that's the WORST because I'm also writing it as original fic and have been for years. I've got proof of that, but if retailers fight me on it when I try to publish, it's gonna suck.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. A few.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I wrote a few years ago but haven't in a while. I'd like to do it again!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

No way I can answer that. I'm definitely a multshipper at heart, and I can't even decide on favorite characters, let alone a favorite ship!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Rewritten in the Stars is something I'd love to finish, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to get in the headspace again. It's complicated and rewrites aspects of the characters while sticking closely to canon with a lot of moving parts over a 30-year time frame. The first part of the series feels complete if you read it, but I have 30k written of part 2 and a full outline for part 3.

16. What are your writing strengths?

The thing I get complimented on the most is my worldbuilding. I also think I'm good at natural dialogue - making it sound like actual speech instead of written word.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have trouble condensing things and it gets wordy 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've kinda sorta done it with alien language and angel language, a few words here and there of other languages - most of it just English in italics to show that it's not being said in English. I don't think I'd ever try and use an actual language I didn't know for more than a word or two.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stargate SG1

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

CON 'verse is and probably always will be my favorite. 💜

Tagging from my activity list with no obligation to do it: @actualalligator @medusapelagia @wheels-of-despair @kallisto-k @ltleflrt @peachonified @underwater-ninja-13

If anybody else wants to play, please tag me so I can see your stuff!

[ser-rctslcyer]

*shuffles in*

hewwo, my beloved-

so, i've been feeling very--burnt out lately? like i can't do anything & everything i do is wrong, & my fear of everyone leaving is super active for no reason. my sleep is basically nonexistent & i'm basically only sleeping for maybe five hours, but not like--in a row.

i'm waking up & dozing back off & chats are giving me anxiety again & i just--feel like i'm getting bad all over again? i'm also still not handling losing friends, even though i cut some off on my own, well & i dunno. i guess some reassurance about all of that would be??? helpful?

this is probably all jumbled & funky, but i'm like isolating again--which is also not good. so, i guess if a certain poe dameron could i guess?? help me through it---i may actually stop feeling so stupid & useless? doesn't have to be transmasc reader but if you do i will kiss you on the mouth & share my gummie snacks with you-

anyway; i love you so much & i'm sorry this is wordy/kinda heavy!

*rolls awaaaay*

Title:  And When I Fall, Piece Me Back Together

Pairing: Autistic! Poe Dameron x Autistic! Transmasc! Reader 

Word Count: 2.6k

Request: As stated above!

Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Self-Doubt, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Crying, NSFW, Emotional Porn, Oral Sex, Worship (Boob Worship), Making Love, Breeding

A/N: I hope this brings you some comfort for what you’ve been going through— but also this definitely hurt. 

It doesn’t matter. 

That’s what you tell yourself— because how could it?

Billions along the galaxy lived in terror; hiding, scavenging, begging for any sort of peace, so that they may live without much fear or dread of what is to come. They’re distressed and tired— maker, they’re so tired of all the fighting, from both sides. 

The Resistance was just as fatigued. 

Too few in number, results of endless unavoidable tragedies that only continue to grow, even though you all pretend it will slow. Rations were dwindling, gear was rusting, breaking, and there were no new signs of gaining anymore. Everyone was overworked and miserable, a good portion were injured; every last one of you clinging desperately onto hope.

So why did your feelings matter?

Why should it matter when in the grand scheme of things, everyone was hurting the same, if not worse? Why should anyone care to help you?

It’s not like anyone would notice anyways. 

You weren’t special— you were just you.

Who would even want to help you?

You endure these thoughts, dragging yourself through the muck of your anguish, trying to perform your duties. A bitter fake smile, a small laugh here and there, and everything seemed as it should be-- normal. Everything flowed routinely, everyone acted the same, and no one noticed a thing. It was hard not letting your doubts seep out to those around you, they weren’t exactly to blame for how you felt; these feelings were up to you to sort out. 

And yet the seed of doubt had been sown— your insecurity and anxiety flourished.

There were only so many months you could take feeling unfavorable. It seeped into meal times first; excuses thrown freely of why you couldn’t be with everyone else. Next, it was downtime, lying that you were behind with reports or needed to take inventory before slipping away for the rest of the day. Even laying in the cool bed with your boyfriend, you slink away as your brain was relentless. Soon enough, you wouldn’t need one as no one asked you anymore, and you couldn’t even blame them. You couldn’t be a good friend to any of them— were you really even a friend at all?

Maybe they thought you were annoying.

Maybe they thought you were boring.

Maybe they never cared at all.

Maybe they simply forgot.

Those semi-feasible truths broke you. 

Those thoughts etched deeper into your head, and you found yourself quietly removing every bit of yourself from everyone you were close to. Most of your days were spent mute, not uttering so much as a word unless you were spoken to. Conversations were filled with such forced spurious energy, so at the very least you could fit in and not disrupt the flow. You were your own company for two months; no matter how much you despised it. 

Until he began popping his head in.

Poe. 

Your partner.

You’ve known him since he joined The Resistance, which was around the same time you inevitably joined. The two of you were thick as thieves, always hanging around each other, always being reckless— the feelings that developed were not a surprise to either of you, and fought for a better future, together. There was no part of him you didn’t trust, but your doubts were too quick to consume. The last thing you ever wanted to feel for him was the sting of rejection, and so you did your best to mask it— or so you thought. 

He never came to you asking questions, knowing how ultimately fruitless it would be because it’s too overwhelming. Instead, he sought you out, briefly speaking before sitting in silence. He never pushed for anything more. Simply, relaxing in your space no matter what you were doing; whether it was eating or working on your datapad, he was always there. You appreciated his efforts, even though there was not much you could say to him yet. 

A familiar humming breaks your thoughts and the metal door opens with a soft hiss. Poe steps in, looking a small bit disheveled with the way he had been running his fingers through his curls. It was a thing he often did whenever there was something that had him anxious. You eyed him from the comfort of your shared bed; he paced awkwardly around for a moment, unable to decide if he wanted to take his boots off or hang his jacket, first.

“Poe?” he came to a halt, looking toward you softly as you slid out of bed.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” you ask, watching him register your words. His eyes drop to the floor and then to his sides before he walks up to you; his palms brushing over your knuckles as his fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“I’m worried about you,” he whispers, looking down at your hands and then back up at you with concerned eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you worry. It— it feels nearly impossible, and—“ the explanation gets caught in your throat and your vision blurred.

“Star, we don’t have to talk about it just yet, just whenever you feel ready.” He squeezed your hands, adding to the sincerity of his words. You tried to push back your feelings, but the damn had already been cracked and a pitched noise left your lips. Instantly, you were tugged into his chest, his arms snuggly around you as he nuzzled the top of your head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, digging into the fabric as you inhaled your scent— both of you standing like that until he spoke up. 

“Star, do you want me—“

“Please,” you mutter out all too quickly, “please I want to talk to you.”

He doesn’t ask again, securing his arms around you before he slowly squeezed your torso. The pressure eases in your body, making you release a low whine— and from there it erupts. A broken cry of frustration, sadness, and fear, leaves your lips, and you break down. Tears stream fast and freely down your face; the noises brought forth from the pit of your stomach, that your chest hurts after a while. 

“I— I thought no one would care,” your voice wavers as you finally muster the words to speak, “because everyone else is hurting all the same and I didn’t want to burden anyone else,” you admit, pressing your face deeper into his chest. 

“I thought maybe I had messed up, that I wasn’t a good friend to any of you— and it just got worst. I didn’t think any of you would care, and it felt like it was all my fault and, and—“ all the pain comes flooding back, the tears return as you began to blubber. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby; I got you, I got you,” he assured against your head, hugging you tighter to him. His grip relaxed, an arm snaking up to the middle of your back as he swayed gently back an forth; bringing you slowly back down from your distress. It was quiet, only soft sighs and sniffles echoing softly across the room.

“It’s okay to need help,”  Poe spoke into your hair, pausing his movement to listen out for any sort of discomfort from you. When he heard none, he pulled away just enough to look at you, and caress the side of your face.

“It’s okay to come to us when you’re feeling bad,” his thumb stroked over cheek, tenderness in his eyes.  

“I swear to you,” he knocked his forehead against yours gently, pressing closer as a small whine left you, “you are never being a bother, annoying, or a burden coming to us whenever you need someone. We all need a friend sometimes and I’m certain every one of us would be by your side whenever you need it— Finn, Rey, BB, Jessika— even the General herself. We care so much about you, I care so much about you— I don’t want to see you suffer, baby.” You whimper at the earnestness in his voice, but your apprehension was too strong.

“But what if-- what if it never leaves? What if I keep ending up feeling this way at some point?” you blurt out anxiously, clinging to him harder; ready for it all to break apart again. Instead, his other hand found your cheek; eyes filled with nothing but fondness.

“Then I promise you, I will always be here to chase it away. No matter how many times I have to, I will always be there to tell you how those lies are— how deserving you are of friendship and love.” You sniffle softly, blinking away the tears, he continued to could wipe away.  “I’ll always make sure you feel cared for.” he finished, relief flooding through you; a tiny smile gracing your lips. 

“Thank you.” you whisper, finally letting yourself relax against him, and wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of his palms brought you more comfort, as he pressed his head rested against yours; the two of you basking in each other. Unprompted, he gently places small kisses over your face, starting from your nose and then to each side of your cheek— you sigh contently. 

“Do you want to?” he asks, nose rubbing against yours; both your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed lightly over your own. 

“Yes please,” the reply beckoned his lips over yours. Poe tilted your head up, sweetening the kiss as he stroked your cheek. A soft moan left from the back of your throat; your hands move to tug at the front of his shirt. It’s almost overwhelming, feeling your blood finally rush through your veins after months of being desolate; the burning in your lungs is a welcoming feeling. When he breaks the kiss, his lips still graze over the corners of your own, hands snaking away to the hem of your shirt. You step back as well, giving him a curt nod, and he pulls your shirt up over your head. The cool breeze makes you shudder, but not as bad as when his mouth places tender wet kisses over your tits. You don’t get much of a chance to react as he kneels down before you, mouth over your stomach and down to your sweatpants. He peels them, along with your bottoms slowly down in one go; sucking and nipping over the flesh of your inner thighs. You cursed, holding his head and shoulder for support, which he chuckles about. He stays there for a moment, leaving the sweetest trail of kisses over the ‘v’ of your hips, glancing up ever so often to look at you. When he was done, he got up, fingers massaging over your hips as you stood bare before him. 

He’s smiling as he kisses you again, pulling you closer to him. His tongue swipes over the inside of your mouth, drawing more noises out of you as he backed you against the bed. Carefully, his grip tightens as he lifts you up and you take the hint, pressing up off your feet and wrapping your legs around his waist. He sets you down to the soft sheets; pressing all sorts of kisses over your jaw and your neck. The desire set deep within your belly and after minutes of teasing, he moves away to admire his handy work. 

Tugging off his own jacket and shirt with ease; his necklace bounces against his chest before he kicked off his boots. Keeping his eyes on you, he shimmies out of his own bottoms before climbing between your legs; hiking one up over his shoulder as he sinks down. The flat swipe of his tongue makes you cry out and moan as he suckles on your clit. Your stomach quivers as he laps enthusiastically, sending waves of pleasure through you. He keeps one hand tightly gripping your hip, as the other slide up to grab your boob; kneading it adamantly. You don’t hold any of your screams back as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. His tongue pumps skillfully in and out of you and the stimulation from his hands and mouth were all too much and you came hard. He devours the rest of your juices, moving back up when you began to whine. 

The sweet taste of yourself from his tongue makes you shudder as you brush your thigh against his hip. He pulls your legs around him, stroking his hard cock again your dripping wet core as he sucks darker hickeys onto your neck. He groans, taking himself in one hand and pressing the tip of his cock to your clit; looking at you needily. 

“Pretty boy, can I?” his voice cracks; sending shivers down your spine. 

He wants you.

He loves you. 

“Please, Poe,” you whine, trying to roll your hips, enjoying the small amount of friction you got. He moans, following along with your rhythm, grinding his cock against your folds until he couldn’t take it anymore and sunk in. Moans echo freely between the two of you as he bottoms out, burying his face into your neck. Pleasure and desire buzz through your entire body as you beg for him to move.

With a firm yet slow roll of his hips, he thrusts deeply in and out of you; sending shockwaves of whines out of you. Your toes curl in an instant as his teeth latch onto the part where your neck and shoulder meet. You don’t mean for your nails to dig into the skin of his back, but everything inside of you hungers to feel more of him– to feel good. You fall deeper into that feeling as his hips kept meeting yours and the sweet nothings that flew out of his mouth, like your own personal shooting stars. His kisses felt like fire, sloppy and yet the most passionate ones he had ever given. You lost track of yourself, whines and whimpers leaving freely as the knot in your stomach grew. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” his right hand leaves your hip to cup the back of your neck, pressing another needy kiss to your lips, “I’m right here, baby.” His hips began to move faster, grinding against your own as he brought you closer. There was no coherent thought left in your brain as he rolled his hips thoroughly and soon you were toppling over into the abyss of pleasure. You came harder than you ever had with the sharp cry of his name, your body humming blissfully as he continued thrusting. Not long after he came to a halt, pressing deep inside of you as he came with the soft whine of your name against your cheek. You could feel just how much he had filled you, a wrecked whine leaving you; nearly convincing you that you came again. You both held onto each other for a moment, catching your breaths, before he found enough strength to flip the two of you over so that you were resting on his chest. It was a bit of haze for a moment until Poe began speaking, slowly talking you out of your space and pressing short kisses to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he mumbled, pecking your lips, “I promise  Star, I always will.”

“I love you too,” you whisper sleepily back, catching the delighted grin on his face before you began to drift off. His fingers gently stroked over your arm, lulling you into one of the best nights of sleep you had gotten in a while. 

Reminded that you were loved and cared for.

[shoechoe]

Last night, I finished reading Purple Haze Feedback. It was a lot shorter of a read than I was expecting it to be; I probably could've sped through it a lot faster if I didn't limit myself to just reading a chapter or two a day. Despite that, I can definitely see why so many people are obsessed with it; it does a lot in a relatively short amount of time. So, now that I'm finished with it, I'm going to give my overall thoughts of the novel. This will be fairly off-the-cuff, so sorry if it's a bit messy.

I think expanding on and giving a sense of closure to Fugo's character was the main purpose of this novel, and it accomplishes this goal extremely well. Fugo falling off the face of the earth was one of my big criticisms with Vento Aureo- I enjoy the concept of a character that's usually intelligent and level-headed but has an anger problem that renders them totally irrational when set off, but the manga just doesn't do anything with that concept. Because of that, I think a novel focusing on Fugo and where he went after he separated from the group was well-warranted.

I adore what Purple Haze Feedback does with Fugo's character. It explores his sense of regret for leaving the group and having his comrades die without him, he thinks about his actions and his thought processes that led him to this point, it expands upon his backstory that was relegated to just a sentence or two of dialogue in the original manga, and it gives him a character arc as he's made to go on a mission to prove his trustworthiness to the organization and he gains courage and strength he never had before. The second-to-last chapter where he thinks about Narancia and finally has the same breakthrough of why he was so willing to risk his life for a girl he barely met gave me chills down my spine.

Fugo is made into a genuinely great character in Purple Haze Feedback- I can absolutely see his appeal now. To avoid being overly wordy, he feels completed in this novel, and that's really what I wanted to see.

The things going on in the novel outside of Fugo are also interesting. The narcotics team served as the antagonists while also giving more insight onto the way Passione worked before Giorno became the Boss and also functioning as Fugo's "test".

The fights surprised me with how quick they were, but Jojo fights tend to get tedious for me with how dragged out they get, so that's not really a complaint. I imagine translating the manga's style of fights to novel format would be difficult, so I don't blame the fights of the novel for feeling a lot different than typical Jojo fights. A lot of the descriptions of the Stand abilities and the gore actually made me squirm a bit- particularly, Vittorio succumbing to his own Dolly Dagger and Sheila's vocal coords being controlled by Manic Depression were scenes that stood out to me.

As for all of the new characters, I definitely liked quite a few of them. I can't say I cared too much about Murolo himself, but I certainly liked his Stand ability. (Though I'm still a little unclear on how he managed to survive the helicopter crash...? Maybe I just missed something, though.) Sheila E. was a really good character; I loved her ability and her personality. At the same time, she reminded me maybe a little too much of Trish; she wasn't just a clone of her, but one of the biggest roles Sheila plays is to be paralleled with Trish, and I would've liked to see her do more, especially since she's supposed to be a skilled member of Passione instead of the innocent girl that Trish was. Her backstory with her sister Clara was also a little weak.

I felt as though the plot was also less than perfect. The ordeal with the Stone Mask kind of went nowhere- so did Volpe's powerup and desire to transcend his humanity in the final fight. That was the one moment where I felt as though the fight could've been aided by being longer.

The additions to Passione's past, on one hand, made a ton of sense (of course Diavolo pretended to be fighting the drug trade just so he could set up the market for his own drugs- of course he claimed to fight older organizations to gain the trust of his members- Jesus, why wasn't this in the manga?) but on the other, kind of just exacerbated the problems I already had with the original story (why are we still hyperfocusing on how the drug trade is evil and bad when we know that Passione was also doing several other things that would hurt the innocent, including directly murdering children? Also, once again, if Bruno has such a soft spot for kids, why was he okay with torture-interrogating and then attempting to murder Giorno, a middle school boy?)

The part of the novel that I have mixed feelings on the most has to be the way Giorno is treated. He doesn't actually appear until the very last chapter, but until then, he's built up by the characters to be this almost saintly figure that can read everyone perfectly and always makes the right decisions. I understand he's already compared to Jesus in the manga, but PHF feels especially over-the-top with it, comparing his voice to a pipe organ played at church and having Fugo literally bow down to him in the end.

To be brutally honest, for me, Giorno already feels like he has a sanctimonious air to him despite not even really being a good person himself, and in the manga, he really straddles the line between being interestingly set in his flawed beliefs and just being annoying. Seeing all of the characters revering him like this does make me roll my eyes a little. To be charitable, it does make sense that a bunch of criminals with no other hope would turn to their leader and see him as someone to look up to, even if the reality is that he is far from an angel himself, but I find it unclear if that was what the novel was going for. Still, though, this is far from a story-ruiner and the last scene with Fugo swearing his loyalty to Giorno was wonderful.

Overall, I really enjoyed Purple Haze Feedback. I think it's a wonderful addition to canon, and while it doesn't fix all of my problems, I would absolutely recommend reading it. I'm mostly kind of mad at myself for not doing this sooner.