#i mean i guess its a poem

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I had a thought for the fantasy au! So on one of the previous versions of the WH website, there was a rhyme for the show that went:

A house is a place with four walls and a floor,

with a ceiling above and a lovely front door.

There's a bed to cradle you safely at night,

and windows to bring in the morning sunlight.

Your house is a mirror of just who you are,

A reflection that tells you to never stray far.

Which I thought might make a good incantation for when Wally properly summons Home (I can't remember if that's ever required for Warlocks but hey, it's still a fun poem regardless).

ohhhh this. i like this...

bonus og sketch! big ol eyes...

& no capalet because uhhhh eh nah and also i wanted Home's pendant to be on full display!

[themissingnumbers]

What's up, y'all! It's me again :) It's been a while since I've made a Yapper post, but here are are. You probably know how I write by now. I write things down in the order I think of them, so things might be a little scattered, but if you can get past that, then I hope you enjoy my ramblings.

Today's Topic: that Green teaser. (Oh boy, here we go-)

Where do I even start with this? I don't know. Hopefully, this will get easier the more I write. Let's start with the numbers first. 02/27/96. Those numbers seemed familiar to me the moment I saw them. 02/27/96 was the date that Pokémon was first introduced to the world. But not Pokémon Red and Blue, no. Pokémon Red and Green.

For those who don't know, the first Pokémon Games: Pocket Monsters Red and Green, were released in 96 in Japan for the Game Boy, with Pocket Monsters Blue coming out later that same year. Then, on 09/28/98, came the international releases of the game. Being Renamed from Pocket Monsters to Pokémon, Pokémon Red and Blue were released in North America, with Australia and Europe getting the game a bit later. Red and Blue are an extremely popular name, so it's most likely that those are the versions you played growing up. (Don't look at me though, I wasn't even alive yet. I just like Pokémon.) (Small history lesson-)

Anywho, with all that being said, what I was trying to say was that back then, it was just Red and Green. You see, in my mind (because I don't think it's been said otherwise), Missing Numbers follows the timeline of game release dates, and not so much the actual cannon story. So, back when all of this started, there was just Red, Green, and Blue. But Green, as a character, doesn't exist, unlike Blue. For all intents and purposes, it was Red and Blue, which leaves the question: Who and Where is Green? (I'm aware that The Rival/Blue is named Green in Japan, let me yap.)

My first initial thought was that Green was the unnamed female protagonist who never got added to the original games. However, I shot that idea down pretty quickly. After all, she already exists in Missing Numbers, and she has a name, which I believe is Verdant. Plus, she has a face—unlike Green. But let's put a pin in this for a second and get back to the teaser.

The Text for the teaser gives me a lot of vibes and feeling about it. Some good, some bad, some confusing and some more comprehensible than the others. So let's start from the top.

Amongst the bugs.: This line gives me two distinct vibes, and I can't quite tell which one I'm leaning towards. The first being is that the word bugs is referring to glitches, like Glitch City. And the second is more condescending. Like they're looking down on all the other characters, especially since the word bugs is in bold. The little shrug that Green gave also seemed pretty blasé in a "who cares?" or "why does it matter?" type of way—like they really couldn't care less about the world or the people in it.

On the other side, a world grows anew.: This part, to me, seems to be pretty clearly referencing the creation of Modern Pokémon and the Remakes of Gen 1, being FireRed and LeafGreen.

One loses himself alone, chained by the heavens.: While, initially, I thought that this part was referring to Fire, after thinking about it, it feels more like it's referencing Red instead. While Fire is chained up at the summit of Mt. Silver, I don't really think he's losing himself up there. Red though? Oh yeah, he's definitely losing it—if he hasn't already lost it entirely. Plus, he's being chained down there by Leaf, too (I think?), and her powers were given to her by god, so chained by the heavens seems to fit the bill. Might just be me though.

You faced towards the sky- towards the screen- almost transfixed.: THIS- This part has my brain spinning in circles and doing the cha-cha slide. This could mean so many things, at least I think it could, and it's sorta gonna lead me to my next point. But, are they looking up at us? Knowingly or unknowingly? Are we looking down at them?

Oh boy, here we go. The real theory crafting of this long-ass post. Take the pin out of the "Who is Green" paper, because we're going back to it. Let's look over what we know about Green. We don't know their gender, and they don't have a face, or at the very least, we haven't seen it. They seem a bit like an avatar. After all, projecting ourselves onto nameless, faceless, blank protagonists is what we do as players. But it's that "towards the screen- almost transfixed" bit that gets me. What if Green is us? Or like us, in a way? What if Green is a player, or the personification of every player out there? Everyone, yet no one—all at once. Maybe Green is some sort of an Isekai? After all, they seem to know about MissingNo and the many glitches like it, but they also know things that we couldn't possibly know without being in their world, like what glitching out and corruption feels like. Not to mention, and maybe it's just me, but the way that the note is worded is kind of weird. But that's probably just weird vibes. And, the word "you" is mentioned so many times it just feels like it's pointing toward the obvious. (Please don't tell me y'all put a Red Herring in a post about Green-) (Adding this on last minute, but I really want to know if Red knows Green.)

Who are you? "Who's to say?" Only your goddamned self, that's who.

In conclusion: Green gives me player vibes and I'm not sure how to feel about it.

Okay, I think I'm done now. I've written this out over several hours, and I had to rewrite it after losing the first draft :/ but it's done now. Again, forgive any randomness, but I had to ramble about what was in my brain. It's probably a really dumb theory in comparison to all my other ones, but thinking about the characters is fun. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed my yap session. And, Mods? I hope y'all are doing well. Till next time!

((We always enjoy your yap sessions dear soldier.))

[sulfurrrr]

> You are encased in the cement that is those you love who love you.

> It protects you. Makes you beautiful. It will immortalize you.

> Your legs are restless.

> You're going to have to move, sooner or later.

> The sun will blind you, at first. The wind will feel like razors against your skin for a time.

> Do you think it'll be worth it?

> Who would choose to become human, over art?

> There will be times where your once graceful shoulders will hunch in pain. Your formerly serene face crumpled in ugly anger.

> You will be so scared to turn around and see the wreckage. Chunks of cement and dust are all that will be left of the statue you used to be.

> Aren't you scared?

[daydrinking75]

the innocence in me has died

and i feel guilty all the time

i think too much

but thats alright

you tell me why dont you just lie

i know its true

all roads lead back to you

[bastardcatboy]

My mom just asked for a latin translation of "protect trans kids" to put on a sticker, which quickly devolved into me and my mom discussing ancient queer history, modern queer history, and latin grammar because we both are adhd

[caffeinatedopossum]

I wrote a poem

"This won't make you happy"

That's what people say when I confess

Well I know they think they're helping

But it doesn't ease my distress

This won't make me happy,

Don't you think I knew that at the start?

The goal was never to be happy,

Just to not fall apart

A gravely injured animal

Does not have happiness on its mind

And in its desperation

Will take any escape it finds

"Things will get better"

That's something I hear all the time

But it's biased information

Even if its not quite a lie

Things will always change-

That's the version I believe

But knowing things change for the worse

It's not much of a reprieve

Hope is a fickle thing

Like a shape shifting beast

It's both beautiful and ugly

Depending on which side you see

Hope is everything you have

When you've got nothing left

But with just one thing worth fighting for

Can be a flame burning in your chest

I was born with this restless pain

But introduced to something new

There are few pains greater

Than finally having something to lose

[pugswithlasers]

from the girl to the salamander they met in 3rd grade:

i’m sorry i found you like that, half-crushed on the hiking trail at the beginning of autumn. sorry about the other kids who stepped on you, i’d like to hope it was an accident. sorry that the terry fox run went over your path that year, it’s unfair that it’s a day about surviving.

from the boy to the salamander:

i’m sorry there wasn’t a better option. i’m sorry that my parents run a farm, so i know when it’s too late. i’m sorry that the girl grabbed my hand and asked me to help, and all i could offer was the heel of my sneakers. sorry that a trace of your orange skin got stuck on my shoes.

From the boy to the girl:

i’m sorry i taught you something that day, that death is a way to solve anything. i’m sorry that i was right, that the salamander was already dead even as its limbs twitched in the mud. i’m sorry i kicked it down the hill after, i didn’t want to see it any longer.

From the girl to the boy:

i’m sorry that i looked at you like that afterward, all frightened and sick. i’m sorry i forgot about the kindness you offered, seeing the flash of orange disappear into the ferns. sorry you had to show me that there is no medicine good enough for small things.

From the salamander to the girl:

i’m sorry that they caught me, that you had to see the aftermath. i’m sorry that i took that route, that my flesh was too soft. i’m sorry that i did not live. sorry your parents taught you about souls going to heaven, but not bodies going to the dirt.

From the salamander to the boy:

i’m sorry i haunted you like that, the way i felt beneath your shoes. i’m sorry i stuck with you, who cared so much for me, rather than the children who did not see me at all. i’m sorry you needed to save me, just like you were taught. i’m sorry i couldn’t thank you.

[andromerot]

just remembered about the first time i saw the "his wife filled the house with chintz to keep it real i fuck him in the floor" post i was like this is so silly this isnt a poem at all! this is just a funny phrase! but now if im honest theres many times where i recall it and substitute its elements to understand a relationship between three people in a space. and the beautiful metric of it doesnt hurt at all

[infinityshigh]

[taps mic] art doesn't have to be easy to love or to look at. it doesn't have to be dumbed down or comfortable or palatable for every audience. sometimes it needs to make you unsettled and uncomfortable! and this is good!

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Poems: Day 9 (January 9th)

Macabre Dawn

I remember it like it was yesterday

I remember the sunlight

beginning to seep through my closed eyelids

coaxing me awake

I remember the freezing numbness

that had settled deep in my limbs

as I lifted my body off the grass

I remember the stench of death and decay

radiating from the hundreds of bodies

littered across the field

I remember the glow of the fresh morning

illuminating the pale faces

of both friend and enemy

I remember the glinting shine

reflecting off of every pool and drop of blood

settled on skin and soaking into soil

I remember the startling calm I felt

just before the shaking of fear

rattled and contaminated my bones

I remember nearly tripping

to plummet my way back to the ground

as my body needed to flee

I remember not so much my coming home

but rather the waves of guilt that hit me with each step

screaming, “why me?”

I remember it like it was yesterday

and it might as well have been

- - - - -

Here's the link to the corresponding writing prompt post

[buglyknight]

546) psyche splits until the inevitable heat death of the universe

She hasn't woken up yet

So I can still say

Good morning

And don't mind the ugly

In my dilated eyes

You canceled all of our plans from now until

The inevitable heat death of the universe

And that sucks, but

I'll love you even after then!

So, just remaining optimistic here.

But lol

I'm burning!

Haha yep, it hurts a lot

Yeah I know I'm pretty tough I guess

I need to burn

And I hope the sun kisses you today

And I guess I hope he does too

But fuck off about that one

How many are there of me now

Psyche splits psyche

There's the mirror man

And we fucking hate that guy

He looks awful I don't know why

People compliment him so much

But I took a few good looks

And yeah, we hate that guy

Since he is me

What about security guy?

Do we like him?

I can't wait to get my own cinematic universe

Featuring only me

Going crazy

Who is the fan favorite?

Me? I hope it's me!

Polls are in

They actually love 'bug' the most

Correct answer guys

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 1 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展):

Aaand finally, the National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆! I was lucky enough to see the famed Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 here. Some of you may recognize some of these pieces already, since pictures and shorts of them have been circulating online way before I went on this trip, but there are many many other pieces too. The pieces I post here are only a small portion of the entire exhibition, so if you ever get a chance to see the exhibition elsewhere in person, don't hesitate. This stuff is amazing.

First up is one of the two that has been gaining popularity online, the piece named 神话 or "Legend".

The first time I saw a porcelain piece like this, I thought that the clothing part was made with paper? But no, the light fabric of the clothing, the hair, it's all porcelain. Keep in mind when looking through these pictures: every part of every piece is porcelain.

This piece is the other one that was becoming popular, the piece named simply 纸, or "Paper". If you don't look up close and see the glossy surface, you can't tell it's actually porcelain. I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of magic that was used to turn clay into this

Anyway, this is a good point to introduce Dehua porcelain a little bit. Dehua porcelain is a regional specialty of Dehua/德化, which is located in Fujian province, and is known for its expressiveness and white color. For this reason it's also known in the West as "Blanc de Chine" (French: "white of China"), and this should be the reason why this exhibition is named 中国白, which basically means the same thing. The history of Dehua porcelain goes back to Song dynasty (960 - 1279), and it is still being produced today. Many of the pieces I'm posting here are modern pieces.

But Dehua white porcelain can be colored too (I imagine the color must be painted on later, because the white comes from the clay itself), and when it is colored, it looks like it came right out of a painting

This piece is especially amazing to me. Look at the texture, look at those details. Zoom in and you will find that there are actually a bunch of porcelain ants on this porcelain tree stump. Porcelain ants. I never expected to use porcelain as an adjective when describing ants. Wtf. It's like a manifestation of a scene from an older animated movie.

Peanuts are called 花生 in Chinese, which literally means "flower grow", and because it also has a long shelf life, it symbolizes longevity and a happy marriage. Also a fun fact: because Watson of Sherlock Holmes is usually phoenetically translated as 华生 (huá shēng) in Chinese and sounds similar to 花生 (huā shēng), you will find that many in the Chinese SH fandom refers to Watson as "peanut".

This piece is titled 春色满园, or "garden filled with spring scenery". This is also a common 4-character word used to describe gardens in spring. I'm guessing the figure depicted here is one of the flower gods. It is one of my personal favorites because of its superb depiction of movement, it's as if the flower god will really fly away on clouds at any moment

More depictions of traditional Chinese deities, specifically Chang'e/嫦娥, the moon goddess. That moon rabbit is too cute.

Depictions of what I'm assuming is the Four Heavenly Kings/四大天王, based on the items they are holding. The Four Heavenly Kings are Buddhist deities.

Look at her clothing! That porcelain is so thin it's almost see-through! Also is it depicting Li Qingzhao/李清照, the famous female poet from Song dynasty? She does have a famous ci poem that's about paddling a boat in a lake full of lotuses while drunk

The piece titled 锦绣前程, or "future as vibrant and prosperous as silk brocade". This is also a common 4-character word used in well wishing. The figure in this piece is holding a xiuqiu/绣球, a ball made of silk, which was usually seen as a token of love

Somewhat more modern-themed pieces:

Among the hundreds of amazing pieces, this one caught my attention for its unique texture. When everyone else was trying to turn the clay into these thin sheets representing fabric or paper or flower petals, this artist took the noodle approach. Not many visitors seemed to like it, but I think it's pretty cool

Piece titled 运势如虹, or "fortune like the rainbow", also a 4-character word used in well wishing. Traditionally horses symbolize vitality and success, hence why many people use the words 马到成功 ("horse's arrival brings success") and 龙马精神 ("vitality of dragons and horses") in well wishes during Year of the Horse

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Dehua white porcelain exhibition!

[sadowlswriting]

Do you ever have that moment where you've realised that out of everyone in the entire family, you're the disappointment?

That you're the one whose never done anything with their life? The one who has no achievements, no big milestones reached?

I know it's not right to compare myself to my siblings, who are older than me by quite a few years, but its such a difficult thing to do, when even just looking at them or messaging them is a constant reminder of everything you haven't done.

Sometimes I'm lying there at night, and I have to wonder, are my parents even proud of me? Or is it just something they feel obliged to say? And I don't want to ask them because how would I know if their lying right to my face or not.

I mean I wonder if my parents even think that there's a future for me.

I've become better, mentally, these past months I'm not entirely sure when but its been awhile, and it's been quite nice; I'm pretty sure it's something they've noticed too, I think they enjoy this side more.

But then I have arguments with my siblings about things that are out of my control, and I try to explain that, and they don't care because their older and their always right, and my opinions always wrong.

And after that interaction with them, I question my entire existence and every choice I've ever made, and I know every one of them was wrong, but I was in a bad place for a very long time, I didn't have much of choice. I did what I thought was best and whether that turned out to be wrong or not, I can not change that.

It's hard to make someone else understand, that I don't want what they want, and I don't want what they have.

Yes, I want a life better than this, but that doesn't mean that their life is what I dream of having.

I don't imagine the future, I don't think about it, I deal with things as happen and I solve problems as they come, if I can't solve it then I deal with the consequences.

I'm not them, and they constantly want to control me, and make choices for me like I'm the main character in their game.

To them I'm strange, I'm weird, I'm confusing, I'm lazy, I don't care, I'm not concerned, I'm emotionless, I'm harsh, I'm blunt, I say things as it is.

And everything listed, is everything that I'll always be to them. To them I'll always be looked at like a disappointment.

And if you look close enough, I'll always be the one missing from family photos.

-Owl.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 (𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑬) ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 14 (15… x_x)

tags : pwp (with plot), (it’s uhh kind of more on the plot side ish… i think? maybe? hfskj), praise, established but developing relationship, mild angst, hurt/comfort (ish), jealousy, possessiveness, slight spoilers for the lumiere myth, references to “midnight whispers”, kissing and making out, sliiight dry humping, wall sex, vaginal sex, desperate sex so it’s kind of rough ish, creampie, tl;dr both of you just can’t get enough of each other, use of pet names “angel” and “my star”, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 3.7k

an : okay so i’m late queueing this but. COUNTDOWN TO XAVIER’S BIRTHDAY - ONE DAY TO GO !!! :D for my beloved darling boy here’s 1 out of 3 total fics prepared for him this month <333 (which may be off-schedule, BUT…) this was fun to write, so i hope you have just as much fun reading! sdkjfhsdk at this point i think i’ve barely ever written xavier fics without plot/feelings… loving this man will just do that to you i guess…

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @spotted-salamander @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @rafayelsgf @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @love-and-deepstrays @keioxo @theanbitchless (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

There’s a lot more to Xavier’s jealousy than you realize, and you’re adamant on setting it right.

This was how it was to be in love with you.

The sweet smell of roses, a walk under the cherry tree.... The calm breeze of morning and soft, fresh linen sheets. Sunlight peeking in through the window, pages of a book. Of words that could mean more to him than he could ever think to describe.

Xavier could call on all the possible analogies he could think of, pull from all the poems and stories that he'd read. And yet none could compare to you. It was in the same way that the stars were second to none—so too, then, were you.

You had always called him your star. But to him, the opposite was just as true.

And perhaps that was why this was so difficult.

The stars were different.

Sometimes changing in position, sometimes visible, sometimes not... From where the both of you stood, they were tiny specks of light in the vast domain of the sky—illuminating the night as much as they could, but part of a different world altogether. Unreachable. Untouchable. So bright, so radiant, that the single, slightest touch could burn him down to nothing.

They belonged to the skies; better admired from afar. It was torture to fall in love with something that, to anyone, felt utterly, unspeakably unattainable—

But that was how it was to be in love with you.

And it was a curse as much as a blessing.

"So then Tara mentioned this new place that opened up recently, and she swears by its service! She said we should totally go out and celebrate!" Your eyes gleamed with excitement as you spoke, taking in a spoonful of your ice cream to bring up to your lips. "So this does mean I have a little last-minute rendezvous later tonight... I'd have invited you, too, but—you know. Girl's night?"

His gaze remained transfixed.

The pace at which you both walked was matched, and relatively relaxed—yet he'd barely touched his ice cream. Instead, blue eyes focused on you as you spoke, tracing the movement of your lips and that sparkle in your eyes that he could never ever tire of.

"Okay," he murmured.

When you looked up at him, he glanced away, bringing a hand back to rub sheepishly at the bridge of his nose.

"...Really, really? Just okay? You usually, I dunno, ask me more about the people I'm with, or something..."

He shook his head, and there it was—the little smile on your face didn't go unnoticed. He knew you were trying not to tease, and your actions were so well-known by him that he'd memorized them all for himself. It was endearing to see you like this, knowing you probably knew his habits just as well as he did yours. And at the same time, he knew that you were right.

"Well, I mean... It's just Tara and the others," he said slowly. "You've... been spending a lot of your time with your hunter friends lately. I know who they are."

"I know who they are. You've a way with words, huh?" With a roll of your eyes, you took another bite of ice cream, before nudging him slightly with your elbow. "I've been trying to get to know more of the hunters in the Association lately. There's a lot of them, you know? I'm really glad that everyone's been so nice."

This time, he didn't say anything. Only a quiet hum, the soft crunch of autumn leaves on the concrete a sound that proved comforting to both of you.

The truth was, he was trying not to be so childish about it.

Something stirred in his chest when you spoke, that familiar discomfort that came with a feeling he knew to be jealousy.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

But it was also easy to lose a star.

It was easy to lose you when, sometimes, he didn’t feel as if he had the right, really, to own you.

Because who was he to control your feelings?

There was no guarantee that, in this lifetime, you wouldn’t just up and leave.

And the more time you spent with others, the more he realized how true that could be.

There was no certainty that this was end game.

“Xavier?”

He heard your voice call out softly to him, and he looked down—

God. You were so cute.

Your head tilted to the side with a little air of concern, and he couldn’t help but smile. The moment a gentle breeze blew, he leaned down for a cheeky kiss on your forehead.

“X-Xavier—?!”

The incredulous expression on your face was one he wished he could preserve in his mind for eternity. He was sure that if that were possible, he really would.

“It’s nothing,” he assured. And he, himself, wanted to believe that to be true. “I like walking with you. It’s nice like this.”

It’s nice like this.

I hope it stays like this.

I hope that this time, we can just… stay together…

—

Oops.

That was the first thought in your head as you shot up from bed, eyes bleary with sleep.

Your phone was in your hand, and you stared aghast.

Package delivered.

You thought you’d been delusional when you could have sworn you heard nothing of a doorbell, until you looked at the address. And that was not your apartment number. That was Xavier’s.

You’d forgotten to change it—again.

Haphazardly throwing on a sweater and putting on your shoes, you raced out your door. The fact that you had yet to receive a text from him about it, nor have it delivered to you, likely meant one of two things: either he hadn’t received it and it was waiting outside his door, or he’d discovered what was in it.

His door absolutely did not have a package waiting outside it.

“Xavier? Xavier!” a little bit out of breath from the sheer shock of such a morning, you called out for him and hurriedly knocked on his door.

“Good morning,” came a voice from inside.

He wasn’t opening the door.

“Xavier…?”

“Is this about your package?”

“...Yes! Yes, it is! I forgot to change the address—”

“I have it.”

“Th-that’s great! Could you, maybe, open the door…”

A shuffling could be heard, and when the door did open, your jaw immediately dropped at the sighed before you.

He had opened it.

“Did you really order this? Were you planning to come here again and ask me to wear it?”

Xavier was frowning, his arms crossed in front of him—he wasn’t at all happy, that much you could tell. But you almost couldn’t focus on that. Not with the black tassel ear cuff hanging on his right ear, not with the suit he was currently wearing. And, those black gloves, the metal cuffs, the gold embellishments, the crimson dye, the blood-red collar… and everything.

It was a stark difference to how you usually saw him.

Xavier almost never wore black… But this looked phenomenal on him.

In retrospect, you supposed that there was nothing he could ever truly look bad in. But this? This was a whole other level of eye candy. There was absolutely no keeping that giddy smile from spreading across your face, even as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that…”

The way his brows furrowed was near downright adorable, the corners of his mouth turning down into a little pout. You could have squealed.

Almost.

Instead, your hands reached out in a look of wonder as you slid your touch down the side of his arm, feeling the well-made fabric of the suit. It was just a cosplay, and yet, it nonetheless seemed so well-made, mearly comparable to the original…

“You opened the package? It’s mine, you know,” you murmured, and with a huff, he stepped aside to allow you into his apartment. You weren’t mad that he opened it, really—and the fact that he put it on? While you could tell he wasn’t happy about it, he was already being nice enough to indulge you with all this again.

“Is it really your package? You could have delivered it here on purpose. I saw Lumiere on the label. These are clothes in my size.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other in silence, and you could very well remember how this played out the last time you were in this situation.

“Well,” you started, if only to fill the air around you that had grown a little tense. “I didn’t expect it to arrive this soon… We were talking about it last night. You know, with the girls? A few days ago at the office, apparently Nero was all busy because a new line of Lumiere merch came out—a whole alternate costume! We talked about it all night and I had to order a set, too, I just thought I wouldn’t get it for another week—”

You were cut off in a swift movement.

With wide eyes, you found yourself pressed up against the wall, Xavier’s hands on either side of your head. The warmth of his presence so near you had you holding your breath, almost as if the air around you had turned from tense to suffocating. There was something about it that simply rendered you unable to breathe. It was easy to get all dizzy with him so close to you.

But when you looked at him, what you were met with was... not anger.

There wasn’t a trace of it on his features.

Instead, you were surprised to see a hint of something else.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Displeased, yes—but his gaze, while kept on yours, was desperate. Eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrowed ever so slightly with the prospect of almost begging you for something that you couldn’t quite place... Something you felt as if you should.

“Xavier?” you murmured. Your hand raised, slowly, carefully, up to cup his face.

This was different from the last time you’d played around with Lumiere’s costumes. He wasn't just sulking over it.

“...But is that really who you want to be calling?” His voice was quiet. Too quiet. This was an emotion you couldn’t quite read, nor was it one that was familiar to you.

“Xavier? What’s going—”

“It’s always like this.”

Your mouth shut, and you frowned, trying desperately to understand the tone in his voice.

“It’s still always Lumiere, right?” he let out a slow breath. “Why do you care so much about Lumiere? You’d talk about him to your friends, too. You’d spend an entire night without me for him.”

“What? That’s not—I told you, we just wanted to—”

“But I’m right here.”

The calm, even tone with which he’d been speaking slipped in that moment. A crack in his voice—though barely audible right in the moment—wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by you.

Something was wrong.

He was rarely ever like this with you—this wasn’t even an argument, it was just… It was something.

His right hand, previously placed by your ear, shifted to take your hand from his cheek. Taking the other at the same time, he pinned both hands back against the wall, preventing you from moving. The lace of your fingers together had you hyper aware of the leather texture of his gloves, and your breath hitched. 

He leaned in.

“I’m right here.”

A repeat of his words.

Yet he almost sounded as if he could break.

“I know you are,” you started, speaking carefully.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

This time you spoke firmly, meeting his gaze full-on with a certain sense of conviction that you were not going to let him try to doubt. “Please... what brought this on, Xavier?”

For a while, there was no answer.

His chest rose and fell, deep, calming breaths for himself almost as if trying to compose himself in front of you. You didn't like that. He did it so often; hiding things from you for your sake, putting on a braver face for you if only to keep you from worrying any more than you needed to.

But you needed to.

You wanted to.

Was that not what a relationship entailed? To worry about each other?

You could tell that this meant more to him than simple, petty jealousy—and you were determined to find out what that was.

“Don’t do that,” you mumbled. You frowned slightly, as if to make your point. “Don’t act in front of me. Don't put up a front. You’re upset, right? Something’s wrong. Xav… Are you still jealous? Is that what this is?”

“...I’m not.”

“But you are. Don’t do that.”

Like before, his eyes averted, but you didn’t miss the way he had to grit his teeth just to make sure he would keep a straight face.

“Xavier.”

You tugged at your wrists.

“Xavier.”

His eyes closed. While his grip on your hands loosened slightly, he didn’t let up—his forehead pressed against yours, and for the first time, you realized how shaky he felt. 

His breath was warm. His hands were warm. You could barely notice the cold of the wall pressed against your back, the rest of his living room fading away into the background as if all that existed was you, and him, and this little corner you had to yourselves.

As if it were all that mattered.

In a way, it was.

He was all that ever mattered.

“I don’t want it to change,” he whispered. His voice was small; smaller than you had ever heard it before. “I don’t want us to change.”

“Huh? But we’re not changing…”

“No, we’re not. I hope we don’t. It’s enough like this, just to be with you…”

Something about his words stirred at the pit of your stomach.

I hope we don't.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time without him, and perhaps he just wanted to feel... a little more wanted by you.

“Xavier…”

This time your hand slipped away from his hold, and it was back on his face, cupping his cheek. You watched him lean into it—a soft sigh of resignation, nuzzling into the palm of your hand like he wanted nothing more than your touch.

You swallowed thickly.

“Xavier, it’s not that I’m so fond of Lumiere…” you spoke softly. “I’m fond of you.”

His eyes opened, a slow blink of mild confusion.

“Lumiere is you. Is he not? He’s handsome, and gentle… just like you are.”

When his expression didn’t let up, you continued.

“Xavier, you saved me. I’ve always thought that Lumiere was amazing… But, now, knowing that he’s you—doesn’t that mean I get to love both you and him at the same time?” Your thumb rolled over his skin, and you leaned up slightly, teasing for a kiss. “I loved you first. So I like him because he’s you.”

The tips of your noses touched, and his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes locked this time, and he was all that you could see. All that you would ever see. Close. Impossibly close. Within reach… this time, because this was the Xavier that had come to love you. And that was all that mattered to you.

Maybe you felt a little sense of pride knowing this star was all yours. And maybe that was what he needed to feel, too.

“I… don’t like him,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be him… I just… want to be me. With you. Like this.”

"And you are you."

"But I'm not Lumiere. Lumiere is part of the past. I want… I… I'm here."

Ah.

Somehow, you understood.

Your gaze softened, and you let out a slow, quiet sigh. "Oh, Xavier…" you mumbled. “I like you no matter who you choose to be, Xavier. Ah—”

You smiled, and then shook your head. “Sorry," you corrected. "That’s wrong. I mean… I love you, no matter who you choose to be.”

You saw his eyes light up at that, breath hitching. Those blue, blue eyes—bluer than blue, the most beautiful shade of it that you’ve ever seen.

That was it.

That was what he needed to hear.

His lips trembled slightly, and then all you could feel were them.

He crashed against you, pinning you back against the wall just as he had done earlier, and you could feel everything. His knee between your legs, inching upwards, pressing you back with every ounce of his being as if the single, final thread of self-control had snapped.

“My star… my angel…” 

He gasped between kisses, barely muttering out words before he would drag his lips plush against yours in a way that made you want. A way that made you need.

You moaned against him, his body melting, molding into yours.

My star.

Xavier was so unfair.

Even the nicknames you would reserve for him could be turned right back to you, snaking his way into your heart that he had, that he owned, because you had given it—everything—all to him.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Not when the heat of his presence wrapped enveloped you in a hazy mist of love and desire, the pull of his touch so strong that you couldn’t ever think of leaving. His fingers curled into yours, his grip straining. Bodies pressed together, the outline of his bulge grinding between your legs—his hips rutted into you with not much thought behind his movements, and your desperate pants fell into each and every kiss as if you simply couldn’t get enough. 

You couldn’t get enough.

Your mind could only fill with thoughts of him, because he’d taken that for himself as much as everything else.

“X-Xavie—mmphf—”

It didn’t take long.

Clothes discarded in barely a moment before he was hoisting you up on his waist and fucking you, your back hitting the wall with every upward thrust of his hips.

“X-Xavier!” you cried. Your eyes rolled back as he dipped his head into your neck, muffling his moans into your skin. “Xavier… Xavier… So good for me… so, so good, nnh—haa—”

Every praise uttered from your lips caused his thrusts to jerk, a whine falling from his lips.

He liked it.

“Mmh… Mh—yes— j-just like that! Ngh, you fuck me so, so well—ha-ah!”

You clawed at his back as the tip of his cock edged against your sweet spot, and you could tell with the way he choked out a laugh into your skin that you were in for it. His hips continued to snap against yours until you could barely register any coherent thought in your head. He would plunge in and out of your wet, leaking cunt with reckless abandon—you almost couldn't breathe.

“Xavier! Hnng—so good! Good boy, good—ngh—! Th-there! Please!”

You were long gone.

He could only hold you up with his sheer strength—you felt weak as you cried out endless strings of praise, obscene sounds of sex filling the room in an instant.

“My star…” He leaned back to hold you properly against the wall, grunting and panting. With his hair stuck to his forehead, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin, your eyes glazed over. “My star. My star. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…”

With a mewl, your legs tightened around his waist, and he kissed you. Tongue, and teeth, and messy. Just as needy as earlier. Just as desperate as earlier. Your hands continued to claw at his back, fervent movements of his lips against yours in a foggy frenzy of pure want.

“Mine,” he gasped, pulling away just enough to speak. “My angel, my star—my pretty—pretty angel—my—good girl—”

His kisses, his thrusts, were punctuated with every word, driving you absolutely insane.

“Ngh—ah! Xavi���vie—Xavier—!”

You could barely get any more praise out as he easily turned the tables on you, lulling you into a headspace where all you could say was his name. His name, that, gladly, he would easily relinquish to you. A name that was yours as much as his. A name that you could call, this time, with the comfort of him being with you.

“Angel…” he groaned. “Feel'so good… Taking me so well…”

“G-gonna cum! Xavie—Xav—haa—!”

“Good girl… Good girl, good—girl—good—ngh—girl…!”

That was it.

One last thrust had you spasming around him, practically collapsing into his arms as he held you up, keeping you between the wall and his body as his own trembled with a release triggered by your own.

“So much… so much…” you buried your face into his neck, and he rubbed soft, soothing circles into your back. Hot, white ropes of cum filled your insides, enough to leak out of you, trailing down your legs.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, catching your breaths. There was comfort, in being held tightly in his embrace. And it wasn’t until a while later that either of you spoke.

“...The Lumiere plushie…” he breathed, quietly. “Do we have to keep it?”

You lifted your head, shooting him an incredulous look. “You’re still upset over it?!” Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark-themed Lumiere plushie resting neatly atop of the coffee table, and you let out a huff. “Xavier, really, I promise you that I—”

You stopped.

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling in what you noted was not quite amusement, but… happiness, nonetheless.

You huffed slightly, but it felt lighter knowing that he was happy.

That was all you ever wanted, after all.

His forehead pressed back against yours, and he spoke again.

“Do you mean it?” he murmured. “What you said earlier. That you love me… No matter what?”

You smiled.

“Of course I do, silly. Isn’t that what you say to me all the time, too? What’s to make you think that I can’t say it back to you?” you gave him a playful swat, rolling your eyes. “I agree with you, you know… I like it like this. I like being with you. I want it to stay this way, too. Because all I've ever wanted was to be with you. You, whoever you feel like being. Whether it's Lumiere, or the Xavier in front of me now. That's... what it's like to love a star. Right?"

Something flashed in his eyes, then, before he nuzzled against you in that way he so often did with you.

“...Mm. So this is what it’s like to love you."

He was whispering, and he seemed to be speaking more to himself.

But, he smiled: 

“Ah, no… This is what it’s like to love you more.”

an : lumiere really is the best!!! 🥰✨

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[what-even-is-thiss]

Brian David Gilbert accidentally reinventing ska aside, I do wonder why there was barely any new music written after the 1960s in the fallout universe. To the point where people in the wasteland aren’t just listening to 200 year old music but 300 year old music. During fallout 4 if you’re listening to diamond city radio when the one original song comes on Travis freaks out because he’s not used to playing tracks by people that are still alive.

If I’m gonna come up with an in-universe explanation I might guess that it’s an extreme example of what might happen if a nation devalues art to the point that cultural stagnation occurs.

Creativity is so discouraged in favor of science, warfare, engineering, and mathematics that nothing new gets produced. Old patterns for clothes are used for over 100 years, hairstyle books and learning materials are never updated, almost no new music is written. Deviating even slightly from American exceptionalism and style is heresy. New ideas outside of the sciences are stupid and to be mocked. What few artists remain just learn how to recreate what’s already been done.

I mean a vault full of musicians wasn’t even a control vault. There was no real effort to preserve musical knowledge. They were subjects in a mind control experiment.

And this attitude gets carried into the big afterwards. After the Great War all that several generations have ever known is the devaluing of creativity and new ideas. And everyone is too tired and focused on survival to try anything new.

So Magnolia writing new music? That’s weird. That’s really weird. It’s been weird for over 300 years at that point.

And if I’m remembering correctly, the only people you meet in the games writing poetry are writing really bad poetry. But in this sort of context, that makes sense. There’s this idea in writing circles that when you take a long break from writing you need to allow yourself some time to write very badly in order to clean the garbage out of your brain and get your creativity muscles exercised again.

The fallout universe is experiencing this on a global massive societal scale. Jerry the Punk writing bad poetry comparing a girl to a deathclaw and Beatrice writing a bad poem about being stuck underground is a sign of slow but steady healing. The fallout world is getting a lot of garbage out of its system from over 300 years of cultural stagnation and learning how to make stuff again.

[megumi-fm]

okay updates. I have managed to write 858 words. it's a lot more poetic than what I was going for but the sequence of events is pretty solid 😌

ngl though I have no clue if what I've written is good or bad but it's still better than an empty google doc which makes it a win👍 oh and my best friend kinda liked it so that's nice ig

so the plot enthusiast part of my brain is fighting the poetry enthusiast part of my brain yet again and my attempt at narrative fiction on has turned into a snippet of lyrical prose 👎