#i wrote this story as something personal to me

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[requiemforthepoets]

Heyyy, I saw you wrote for Oscar Piastri and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind writing a Oscar x youngest child reader. Went they go to meet her family and he hasn't heard the best things about them. Like her sister is constantly overlooking every achievement ever and it's like her mother doesn't even care about her unless she wants something and the dad isn't in the picture. And after years she just finally breaks down and Oscar comforts her.

you are the only exception 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you came to a realization that with your bad relationship with your family, your only strong relationship is with oscar.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello! thank you so much for your request. i hope this one is up to your standards, i had also taken a creative liberty to add some details. the confrontation part (between reader and mother) might be a little bit triggering that i had intended it to be for some, so just read with a little discretion. nonetheless, i hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, youngest daughter syndrome, physical assault (slapping), verbal sparring, dysfunctional family, no father figure, youngest daughter rage, no use of y/n, and cursing.

You and Oscar stood outside the front door of the house you once had called home. It had been a year since you last had last visited, and the thought of just stepping inside made your stomach twist into knots. You glanced at Oscar, his soft smile of encouragement giving you a moment of calm amidst the growing storm inside your mind. He hadn’t pressed you to meet your family, but you knew it had been on his mind ever since your relationship had become serious.

“They’re your family,” he said gently when you brought up the idea weeks ago. “If you want to introduce me, I’ll be there for you.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Your family had never felt like a real family at all, not like the warmth and care that Oscar had been surrounded by all his life. You had always felt overlooked, unimportant, invisible—like you were just a ghost in the background of your family’s lives. As you hesitated, Oscar’s hand slipped into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, but even Oscar couldn’t hide the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He had heard enough to know this wouldn’t be easy.

You took a deep breath before knocking. The door swung open, revealing your mother, looking at you up and down, her face was a blank canvas of indifference, before her eyes flicked to Oscar. Her expression immediately softened as she extended her arms, ignoring you completely as she greeted him.

“Oscar, darling, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” You felt the sting immediately, but you forced a smile as Oscar shook her hand politely. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs.—”

“Mom,” she corrected, cutting him off and pulling him into a hug. “Just call me mom.” You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to say something, but Oscar gave you a subtle glance that told you he noticed.

You then saw your sisters lounging in the living room, their eyes didn’t light up when they saw you. You just forced a smile and stepped inside, with Oscar following close behind. Introductions were made, your sisters and mother exchanged pleasantries with Oscar, and even though they were polite, it was as if you weren’t even in the room. Your achievements, the life you had built outside of this house, were all glossed over or ignored completely. Every time you tried to share something about what you were proud of, they either changed the subject or dismissed it with a half-hearted compliment.

Oscar’s brow furrowed slightly, his hand never leaving yours as the conversation carried on. You could tell that he was beginning to understand what you had meant all along. When your mother finally acknowledged you, it was only to ask another favor, something she needed, something she always needed but never seemed to return. There was completely no warmth in her words, no care, just expectations. It didn’t help at the fact that your father wasn’t there—he hadn’t been in the picture for a long time. You’d long since accepted that, but it still hurts, the unspoken absence lingering in the air like a heavy cloud.

As the hours dragged on, Oscar noticed everything. The way that your sisters praised each other’s accomplishments while overlooking yours, the way your mother seemed to care more about what you could do for her than who you were. It was suffocating, but you bit your tongue. You were here out of formality, after all. You wanted them to properly meet Oscar because he’s a part of your life now, and as much as you hated to admit it, they were still your family.

During the dinner, while the whole table’s chatter had subsided, Oscar decided to excuse himself to the restroom, and the room seemed to grow colder the moment he left. You just sat there, tension building in your chest, and finally, something inside of you had snapped.

“I’ve had enough,” you said, your voice steady, though your hands trembled. Your sisters glanced at you, clearly taken aback. “Why do you always do that? Why do you always fucking act like nothing I do matters? You act like I don’t exist unless you need something from me. You’ve never cared about what I’ve done or how far I’ve come, like I’m some kind of afterthought to you all. I’m done pretending that it’s okay!”

Your mother’s face hardened. “Watch your tone.”

Your sisters glanced at each other, their expressions indifferent. “Oh, here we go again,” one of them sighed, “you’re always so dramatic, good god!”

“Dramatic?” You repeated, incredulous. “You’ve never acknowledged a single thing I’ve done. Every time I decided to visit, it’s always the same fucking thing, treating me like I’m invisible unless you want something from me!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive, it wouldn’t bother you,” your mother chimed in, her voice cold. “You have always been the one to leave us. Don’t act like you’re the victim here.”

You stood up, fists clenched at your sides. “I left because this place was and still is fucking suffocating! Because I couldn’t fucking stand the way you all made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough, like I didn’t belong here at all!”

Your sisters rolled their eyes, but your mother stood as well, her face was now twisted in irritation. “You think you’re the only one who’s had it hard? We’re your family, and if you don’t like how things are, maybe you’re the problem!”

“No,” you shot back. “You just can’t handle the fucking truth, can you? You’ve all treated me like a shit for as long as I can remember, and maybe that’s why dad left! Maybe he couldn’t stand being around this shit ass family—or being just around you!” You pointed at your mother angrily.

The words hung in the air like a slap, and it wasn’t long before your mother’s hand followed suit, striking your cheek with a force that left your skin stinging and with a glaring red hand imprint. You didn’t flinch, instead, you stood your ground, the sharp pain doing little to shake your resolve.

“You don’t get to fucking hit me just because you can’t handle what I’m saying,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “You lost any right to call yourself my family a long time ago.”

Before anyone could respond, Oscar re-entered the dining room, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. He saw the tension, the redness in your cheek, and without hesitation, he crossed the room, gently taking your hand.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with concern. You didn’t need to argue, you didn’t want to stay a second longer. With Oscar’s hand in yours, you turned and left, the door closing on a chapter of your life that should have ended long ago.

Stepping outside into the fresh air, the weight that had been suffocating you inside began to dissipate. You felt really good after airing everything out in the open, of course you hadn’t expected your mother’s slap, but you don’t care, it was about fucking time. Oscar didn’t say anything for a while, just held your hand, offering you the comfort you didn’t realize you needed until now. Finally, when you were both at a safe distance from the house, he stopped walking and turned to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice full of concern. His fingers brushed against your check, where the redness from the slap still lingered.

You nodded, but your eyes were full of unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Osc,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want you to witness all of that. I didn’t even want you to meet them.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Don't apologize,” he murmured against your hair. “You don’t ever have to apologize for them. That wasn’t your fault.”

You stayed in his embrace for what felt like forever, the world around you fading away until it was just the two of you. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again.

“They don’t define you,” Oscar whispered. “You’re not them. You’ve built something incredible on your own, and you don’t need their validation for that.”

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, but quickly wiped it off. They weren’t just from sadness, they were also from the overwhelming sense of relief that you didn’t have to face any of this alone anymore. Oscar had seen the worst of your past, and instead of turning away, he was still here, holding you tighter than ever.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his words wrapping around you like a blanket of safety. “And nothing they do will ever change that.”

You looked up at him, his kind eyes filled with nothing but understanding, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere—right there, in his arms.

The moment you were already back at the hotel room, the weight of the day finally crashed down on your shoulders. You just stood there, motionless, while Oscar set down his things. The silence between the two of you was deafening, it felt like the walls were closing in. The dam you had been holding back for years was breaking, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it was already too late.

You sank into the edge of the bed, face in your hands as everything you had bottled up started to spill out. At first, it was quiet—just a shaky breath, but soon enough, the sobs came in waves, unstoppable, painful, years of frustration and hurt pouring out of you all at once. All the pain of never being enough, of always being overlooked, hits you like a train.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, not even sure if Oscar could understand you. “I’m so so sorry…I shouldn’t have made you go there. I shouldn’t have let you meet them.”

Oscar was at your side in an instant, pulling you into his arms as if shielding you from the flood of emotions that overwhelmed you. He didn’t say anything right away, just held you as you cried into his chest, his hand gently running up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his touch was the only thing keeping you tethered to the present, but the storm inside of you was relentless.

“I thought—” you gasped, the words barely making it out between your sobs. “I thought they might have changed…that maybe they’d see me for who I am now. But they didn’t. They never will. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. “Hey. Hey, stop,” he said gently, brushing a tear from your cheek. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. You don’t have to apologize for them, not to me.”

You shook your head, guilt pressing down on you. “But how they treated you, it wasn’t right. They didn’t even care that you were there. They didn’t care about anything except what they wanted from me, and I made you go through all of that…I’m sorry,”

Oscar’s grip on you tightened, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to apologize for them,” he repeated, his tone more serious now. “They’re the ones who should be sorry, not you. You’ve done nothing wrong. I went because I wanted to be there for you, no matter how it all turned out.”

You sniffed, wiping at your tear-streaked face, though it did a little to stop the flood. “But it’s so embarrassing,” you mumbled. “Your family’s so good, supportive, and mine…mine’s a total mess. Dysfunctional, even. I didn’t want you to see that, I didn’t want you to see where I came from.”

Oscar cupped your face gently, forcing you to look at him. “It doesn’t matter where you came from, I couldn’t care less,” he said quietly, his eyes searching for yours. “What matters is who you are, and you are nothing like them. You’ve built your own life, your own path, and that’s what I love about you. I don’t care about your family’s mistakes. I care about you.”

Your chest tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t from the pain of your family’s rejection. It was from the overwhelming feeling of being seen, truly seen, by someone who didn’t judge you for the past you couldn’t control. Oscar’s words wrapped around you like a protective shield, and you leaned into him, your tears slowing but your emotions still raw.

“I just wanted them to care,” you whispered, the last of your defenses breaking. “I wanted them to be proud of me, I don’t ask that much from them. I just…I just wanted to feel like I mattered to them.”

Oscar’s arms tightened around you again, pulling you close until your forehead rested against his. “You matter,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “You matter to me. More than you’ll ever know.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

He kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “You never have to thank me for caring about you. I love you, and I’m here, no matter what.”

The sincerity in his voice broke through the last of the walls you had built around yourself. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you could finally breathe. You nodded, the tension in your chest finally easing as you rested your head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you.

You weren’t sure of what the future held, or if your family would ever change, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered at all. You had Oscar, and that was enough.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

It all started on a Sunday. 

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed. 

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised. 

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar. 

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite. 

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” 

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed. 

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.  

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you. 

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty. 

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.” 

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you. 

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty. 

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself. 

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures. 

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away. 

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work. 

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank. 

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now” 

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach. 

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment. 

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you. 

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him. 

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion. 

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins. 

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you. 

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain. 

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free. 

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm. 

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.” 

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed. 

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?” 

“Just…me” 

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?” 

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy. 

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance,  just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act. 

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you. 

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a  violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death. 

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck” 

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded. 

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway. 

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath. 

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

"floral blessings" ; a braindump from yours truly because this card is absofuckinglutely my most favorite xavier card on the face of the planet and i am. going. to talk about it <3

like with all my 5* card "analyses" (but also more like a wordvomit really 😭) this will contain spoilers for: (a) this card itself, (b) the lightseeker myth, (c) the lumiere myth, (d) anecdotes, main story, and world underneath !

[ this is also very long............ you have been warned 🤲 ]

first of all...... MY GOD...... FHSNNFBSJFJSJFK YELLING SCREAMING THROWING UP IM NEVER GETTING OVER THE KINDLED CARD FOR THIS BECAUSE. BECAUSE HELLOOOO??? HELLOOOO???

anyway..................

timeline-wise, the card pretty much implies a very solid relationship between the two, so while i don't know where i'd place it between 21 days and no restraint, it's definitely still after 21 days! but with that said, rather than more focus on their individual development like in no restraint, this one seems to focus more on their relationship as a whole, i think?

overall this braindump won't be as organized as what i wrote for no restraint (i think...) because my brain is still so completely absolutely mush over this card, but i needed to write SOMETHING or i'd explode to smithereens 😭 so nevertheless...!!!! i'll section off a couple scenes so if you want an outline, it'd be something like:

[1] general setup (an overview of parallels); [2] "reunion" (parallels and relationship development); [3] xavier's forwardness (the courtyard meetings, lessons, giving of the mask); [4] day of the festival; [5] the wish

but bear with me;;; there is SO MUCH that goes on here, and i really wish i had the patience and coherency to point out every little thing because holy shit 😭

firstly though, and i just found this really cool, but apparently the flower goddess festival is (was) an actual thing!

from what i've found (and correct me in i'm wrong) it's apparently a very ancient festival that's not widely celebrated these days, so it's not super popular or well-known, but it has many names such as: "Flower Goddess Festival (花神节 huāshén jié)" "Hundred Flowers’ Birthday (百花生日 bǎihuā shēngrì)" and "Flower Goddess’ Birthday (花神生日 huāshén shēngrì)" !!! i couldn't find much information about it though, but it seems that what was in the card such as the flower cakes and the dance really were actually part of the festival~ and i've also seen people say that xavier and mc's outfits feel to be from the tang dynasty, which a lot of people speculate is the time period that this festival originated!

BUT, MOVING ON...

i. general setup — an overview of parallels

i think honestly what's most interesting to me here is how much the overall card mirrors xavier's lightseeker myth so incredibly well. with all of xavier's cards, and how he's grown as a person and how their relationship has developed overall... so much of all of that ties to who he was as a lightseeker, to who he was as the prince of philos. in fact, it goes without saying that lumiere's myth story itself is so bound to the lightseeker myth. because, and i've said this so often and repeat myself a lot with it, lumiere is a direct reflection of the princely persona xavier has grown up with. that the reason he's always been so averse to who he becomes as lumiere is because he essentially channels prince xavier, someone who he's never thought to be truly him, someone who he's been wanting to push aside and no longer be. (i talk about it in my lumiere myth braindumps and touch on it in my no restraint braindump!)

and there's something about that reflection that transfers here, too, because there are two things that all three situations have in common: (1) a position of importance, and (2) a duty to do or fulfil something.

of the prince of philos and heir to the throne, of lumiere as the strongest hunter expected to protect the citizens, of the young master—usually the son of a wealthy family, however, in this case xavier claims he was "adopted" due to his calligraphy skills—with the task of seeing the festival through and teaching the flower goddesses calligraphy.

yet, at the same time, there's something different about the way xavier assumes this role of the "young master":

he's able to say no.

the role is lighter, likely because it's not a true role and, like mc as a flower goddess, he knows that it's temporary—but the way that their first meeting in the courtyard can remind you so much of prince xavier is almost jarring.

it's reminiscent of the very first time mc sees him with his bodyguards, in our most favorite anecdote "when shooting stars fall":

"They aren't clad in all black as one would expect, and they keep a respectable distance away from Xavier. Still, these people exude an air of oppression. Xavier, with his bag, is at the center of their group. It seems he's used to being stared at. The only difference is that rather than being his usual expressionless self, he appears slightly upset."

lt's reminiscent of that time they staged a spar, only for the royal messenger and his guards to interrupt it:

"The royal decree he brought today was related to the future of Philos ... Xavier was taken away by the Royal Messenger. Our duel ended with no clear winner, and the crowd quickly left."

and you can see how his progression grows, from prince xavier, to lumiere, to this role he plays as the young master—if as the prince of philos he had no choice but to follow the path laid out for him until he had enough of it, as lumiere he was more free to choose who he saved and when he saved them. now, as the young master, he's able to say no, sir, something urgent came up. he's able to say right now, i have something that i want to do first.

which, also interestingly, but in the more 'passive' role he played as part of the special task force, he wasn't quite one to say "no" either—though he kept a low and nonchalant profile, he's never outright refuted anyone, even if he might disagree, such as the party gathering or whatnot.

(also, slight segue, but it's notable that he's likely grown into a habit of a little selfishness due to what appears to be some kind of aversion to "serving the people". i do talk a little bit about that here—but it's the fact that (a) all he really cares about is mc, and (b) he likely still doesn't want to fall back into his patterns as prince xavier where he felt chained to think of the people more than the woman he loves. it does bring a little bit of question to his morality, but we know that mc has very much been something like his moral compass throughout.)

but, more than just the ability to say what he thinks and say no to certain things he doesn't put as a priority... he also feels light enough to goof around a little. dozing off/doodling during class, cheekily vying for mc's attention without concern about showing "favor"... something about xavier in this little persona he's taken on is an air of confidence. this was a kind of confidence you didn't see from him as the prince, as lumiere, even as the task force member. and it's not the confidence in his abilities, which has always been there—

it's the confidence in himself.

it takes a certain level of sureness to be able to do things on your own terms, or to be able to voice the fact that you want to.

i believe that throughout the parallels strewn throughout this card with how the setup is, it's this confidence that shines through and really makes things different.

because this time, xavier is different.

he's growing as a person.

ii. the "reunion"

this part of the card had me gasping out loud, i kid you not 😭😭😭 because the parallels really the fuck parallel in here 😭

"The Chen residence is far away. And I can't exactly leave as I'm one of the Flower Goddesses. So, I had to let Xavier investigate himself."

"He said he'd be back after four days. Why isn't he here ... Worried, I sit on the grass and gaze at the night sky. I'm barely in the mood to appreciate the fragrant blooms above."

first of all, the setting very much feels like the meteor shower scenario in "when shooting stars fall", but also...

"Xavier would always leave me like this. At times he joined the expedition team. Other times he was returning to the palace with the Royal Messenger. I'd always ask when he could return. He always returned within the timeframe given to me.Before the Prince entered the Forest, everyone was praying for his safety. At that time, Xavier whispered into my ear... 'Seven days.'"

"He's always lied, again and again and again and again. He said hope would follow when spring arrived. He said he'd take me to the new planet he discovered.He said he didn't want to be King but also refused to let me stand by another's side. He said he'd return when I miss him. He said when I become the Queen of Philos, he'd be my knight. The song he made up is now a reality. Yet as thousands cheer my name, he abandons me... At that moment, a spaceship soars across the sky like a shooting star, disappearing into the night. My footsteps echo in this empty room. No one will be by my side. My star has left me. And this time... he will not return home."

everyone's favorite scene from the lightseeker myth.

while at the same time...

"For some reason, seeing Xavier quietly admiring the nebula, I suddenly feel a wave of panic and instinctively reach out to grab his hand."

^ that's from "shining traces", but only one out of the many examples wherein mc feels as it xavier is someone she could lose at any second—not particularly because she doesn't trust him, but because there's a nagging feeling in her chest that they could be separated for longer than either of them would have hoped to be. after all, it's happened before already, she just doesn't know it. but whatever it was that happened in her previous lives, i've no doubt that the anxiety from back then had likely transferred over anyway.

and this is what this reunion feels like.

a sense of discomfort around his absence, that nagging "what if" he doesn't come back.

but it doesn't stop there—

because xavier does return, albeit very tired-looking (again i'd call this reminiscent of That Moment in "when shooting stars fall" where he brings her the protocore in hopes to keep her from dying).

and more than that, he explains. again, like what happened in the no restraint card, he explains. he doesn't keep things vague on purpose, or makes it seem like he's hiding something from her. he explains, and he takes the initiative to, if only to soothe her worries.

to soothe her worries.

that's an important point.

(and also on a side note:)

HDJJAJDJSJ I HAD TO AND THIS IS A DIRECT PARALLEL TO "No matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are... I will find you." BY THE WAY

anyway......!!!!!!!!! again, it doesn't stop there.

because this scene and this conversation also directly talk about home.

and this conversation means a lot more to xavier than, i think, generally one would realize. mostly because—and i remember kay making a really good point about it here—xavier has gone through a lot to get to where we see him now, and so much of change that he's had to get used to... time traveling so far only to get stuck? the different lifetimes he and the backtrackers would have had to witness this whole entire time?

like i mentioned, our brain's natural instinct is to strive for stability—you can even see it in what we know from our high school biology lessons a la homeostasis. yet, what xavier went through, what the backtrackers went through, is one hell of a shock of a change. it's the kind of change that needs processing, but isn't easy to process, and especially not quickly. and xavier had little to no one to lean on for support, to lean on to guide him through it. the result of which being that, as established even in his earlier cards... change isn't something he likes.

and as also established in world underneath, we know he just simply wants a neat little mundane life with mc.

keyword: with mc.

he doesn't really know what home is, because he has a distorted perception of it—the xavier now, in this moment, still recalls his home planet, the life he has ties to, back in philos. but as he is now, his home is in linkon. and then it comes to the conclusion that the answer is, really truly, neither.

his home is with her.

he says it, this time, explicitly.

it's his declaration that it's okay if things change, as long as he has her—as long as she remains the constant. then change is something he can deal with.

yet, even as he reveals all this to her, the conversation starts with him asking her. the conversation starts about her. and it's she who's able to give the opening back to him, by touching on things like change and belongingness.

"Even in a place this strange, you'll feel like you don't belong. No matter how long you stay ... Am I wrong? l'm sure many people feel safer in a place they're familiar with."

mc isn't a stranger to change, either—she's had a lot of it in her life, specifically the life she lives now as a hunter. the chronorift catastrophe, her family... it's not as if she doesn't know how jarring change can be, and she expresses that here—having to "start again" in a place she's unfamiliar with... it's not easy, and it's easy to feel out of place.

humans are social creatures. we were made to be social, we were made to interact with others. but from that need and that inherent desire (because no matter how small, it's always going to be there) stems the need to belong. a human emotional need to affiliate with and be accepted by members of a group.

this is something that is so prominent in mc that it is a place of solace for her to feel like she belongs somewhere. but this sense of belongingness is something that xavier has NOT experienced for a long, long time. it's only something he's been learning to experience again with her, and the people that surround them in this life that want nothing but the best for them both.

it goes back:

his home is wherever she is.

and i think that it's beautiful that, after hearing xavier's side, mc then chooses to agree with it:

"Maybe... the sense of belonging I have is like yours."

if his home is wherever she is, then her home is with him.

ALSO— while we're talking about this scene... the little banter they have with the flower cake?????? AND THE FACT THAT HE KISSES HER?!!?!?!?! JUST LIKE THAT!!!???!?!?!?!?!! (if you can't tell, i yelled about it)

AND THIS SCENE;?!

—"His eyes are a little red, maybe because of how exhausted he's been lately. Even his blinking has slowed down ... 'I'm a little tired. Can I lie down for a bit?'"

—"Before I can answer, Xavier rests his head on my lap."

DIRECTLY plays out the mutual reliance they have on one another for comfort and rest, because it parallels that line in lightseeking ovsession that we're all familiar with:

"You rest, I’ll be by your side. Always. If you have nowhere to go, nowhere to rest your weary self… you can stay with me."

i think that as much as they have been growing in to their own persons, they're both so closely intertwined, and so much of their love for each other really just pours out all the time.

iii. xavier's forwardness

granted, one thing that's interesting in this is that they do start out pretty tame. there's a little bit of a vague area concerning their relationship at the start of the card, especially since mc seems back into her old habits of starting something and not following through—or otherwise, unintentionally starting something, and then shying away afterwards. she does get noticeably flustered, but she pushes the fluster away... almost as if old habits die hard.

...but xavier, on the other hand, is more consistently bold with whatever he's doing.

there's no hesitation on his part at all, even.

in fact, xavier is the one who initiates most of these things, and doesn't shy away from it. his cheekiness really shines through—he's the one who kisses her suddenly (and for all the other kisses he initiates in the card); he's the one who fixes her clothes, her hair; he's the one playing around while teaching her calligraphy; he's the one who's so eager and unbothered about showing off their relationship:

—"Did we need to hide? Or can the Young Master not chat with a Flower Goddess?"

—"It was going to be awkward... And I heard one of the hosts of this ceremony is the mansion's owner. Since you're an organizer and the Young Master, it wouldn't look good if I was biased, right?"

—He touches the small of my back, which makes me stand up straight. "But you always have special place in my heart."

and:

"Well, I guess everyone knows now. Does this mean I can officially play favorites?"

like he's actually being SUCH a menace i had to pause and take a deep breath

but he's very consistently bold, and it, again, goes back to the confidence that he's gained in himself. he seems a little less of the uncertain, almost shy ish xavier who didn't quite know how to make proper advances... this time, he knows mc is comfortable with his advances, and he gets to play around with that. they're comfortable around each other, to this point that he can be a little more free with his words and his actions.

and eventually, we see mc beginning to reciprocate that again—especially during the festival itself, and in the kindled moments.

which brings me to...

iv. the festival day

i'd specifically talk about, here, the moment before the dance and during the dance.

because it's alao the exact moment that we see mc begin to actually reciprocate and throw back her own advancements—it's the exact moment we have a confirmation that she loves him, that she adores him, that he means so so so so much to her.

and on the day of the festival, we go back to what i highlighted earlier:

he soothes her worries.

the first instance we see this is their little "reunion" that we talked about—it's his very presence, and his added explanation, that calms her down in that moment.

and now is not so different:

—"The most important part of the ceremony, the Flower Goddess Dance, is about to begin. I glance again at the crowd. 'Where will you be during the dance?'"

—"Xavier gently takes my hand that's holding the petal. 'That flower from the roadside will wilt if you keep touching it.'"

—"'I'm just a little nervous.'"

—"'Scared of dancing, hunter? Actually, I got you a gift ... It was meant to be a surprise. But since you're feeling nervous, I figured I should tell you."

—"'That works. Now, my focus has shifted to the excitement about your gift.'"

(which, another side note, but "Scared of dancing, hunter?" had me GASPING because???? the way he teases her in this?! it's so unabashedly him without holding anything back, no coyness about it but he's being a cheeky little shit 😭 i adore him...)

a few things to note here is that out of context, it does feel like a little bit of an awkward way to be comforting someone—yet, it works extremely well. what xavier does here is not provide reassuring sugarcoated words like "it's going to be okay", he distracts her from the problem instead by giving her something to look forward to. which, in this case, is the gift.

interestingly, in a way the 'distracting' is also reminiscent of something he does when he tries to hide something from her—cutting the conversation short when she asks about lumiere, in the lumiere myth asking her to go check on the 'wanderer' so as not to let her see what he had to inject from the ship...

in his lightseeker myth, they talk briefly about his fight with the king, and the possibility of him no longer taking the throne. this conversation proves vague and a little bit one-sided, and in the end he pushes forward the idea of eloping to uluru almost as if to avoid further discussion about the fight itself.

but this time, that's not particularly where he stops: he addresses her question as well, just to find a fallback, an extra little bit of reassurance.

—"'See that tree over there? I'll be standing under it.'"

—"I follow Xavier's gaze. Nearby is a tree covered in red silk ribbons and wooden plaques by the bridge. 'So if I mess up the dance, you'll see everything, huh?'"

—"'I promise I'll forget about them after a good sleep.' His gaze remains on my face, appearing indifferent. Yet I sense a passion about to overflow. 'The only thing l'll remember today is your beauty.'"

FIRST OF ALL. "The only thing I'll remember today is your beauty." A BEAUTIFUL FUCKING LINE, BY THE WAY. IT GAVE ME LITERAL BUTTERFLIES I HAD TO PAUSE FOR A MOMENT. (1) more proof that in the end she's really all he cares about, (2) he's being unabashedly bold with his words again—no filter moment, but zero hesitation, (3) "i sense a passion about to overflow"? he's not being coy about this either, he's saying what he truly feels. he's opening up and expressing himself more, expressing his love for her more, and being genuine about it!

but also, in terms of additional comfort, it's a widely known tactic in states of panic to ground yourself by using your senses to register something familiar: you see something familiar to you, hear something familiar to you, touch something familiar to you, smell something familiar to you. such as, the ground beneath your feet. the air around you, the vague sound of chattering around you, maybe even the touch of your bag, or the fabric of your clothing, the window you know has always been there, etc. panic brings about a sense of derealization, and grounding yourself is usually the first step to calming down.

what xavier is doing now is offering the knowledge to her that he will be there. that she knows exactly where to look for him if she needs to during the dance. she has the opportunity to ground herself with his presence whenever she needs to.

(and again, it's a direct reflection of that line: "You rest, I’ll be by your side. Always. If you have nowhere to go, nowhere to rest your weary self… you can stay with me.")

and it's exactly what she does.

though she ends up enjoying the dance and the crowd does block her direct view of the tree during the dance itself, she takes comfort in the fact that she knows he's there.

she trusts him; she doesn't need to see him to know that he'd there.

and then she thinks something beautiful:

"Engrossed in the dance's rhythm, my mind is strangely at peace. After all, I know there's someone in the crowd whose eyes are only on me."

once again, it goes back—his presence offers her comfort.

the first thing she does once she's received all the flowers is run to him, and he waits for her gladly. like he's always waited for her, like he always will wait for her.

"A lot of people wanted to give you flowers. I couldn't get past them, so I decided to wait for you here. Seems they're quite fond of you, just like me."

a note: the peach blossom

i figured this deserved a section on its own actually, particularly because the whole theme is this whole "flower goddess" thing... and in the beginning, we see mentions of the "goddess of daffodils" and the "goddess of peonies".

yet, we never really truly find out what mc's potentially assigned flower was—

the only mention of a flower that we do see, directly related to her, is when the little kid compliments her hair and places a peach blossom into her basket.

and while i wouldn't know if this means it's her flower or not, but the specific mention of the peach blossom is adorable, because in chinese floriography, the peach blossom represents love.

it's used in a lot of chinese literature and often associated with the arrival of spring—which, "according to the rites of zhou, the middle of spring is a period when men and women fall in love freely." therefore, a lot of chinese literature and poems also allude peach blossoms to romance, being that spring does as well. but, it's also associated with beauty: "after the wei and jin dynasties, beauties were portrayed in a more detailed way with words like taohua mian (peach-blossom-like face) or tao sai (peach-blossom-like cheek)." and there are other things it represents too, like prosperity, growth, and longevity.

when xavier gives mc the hairpin at the end, mc describes it as "pretty and adorned with pink flowers as if they are on a branch", and while not explicitly stated, i do believe that they are also peach blossoms.

whether or not that's the case, and whether or not the peach blossom was mc's flower (or maybe that it's just generally part of the festival), i think it's a really cute detail! i think it perfectly represents their growing relationship, and essentially the beauty with which xavier always sees her~

BUT, MOVING ON.....

v. the wish

the final stretch boils down to this.

"A gentle breeze stirs the wooden plaques hanging from the branches. A faint, melodic sound dances in the air. 'They say a Flower Goddess can bless people's wishes. And if the person making the wish is someone she favors, it's more likely to come true.'"

it's where the kindled moment falls, as xavier proposes for them to make a wish together.

and, mind you, this whole entire scene is ADORABLE AND LIVES RENT FREE IN MY HEAD ... the playfulness between their words, the "if i tell you my wish, it won't come true", the way xavier CARRIES HER??? AND THE WAY HE CATCHES HER WHEN SHE FALLS AND PINS HER AGAINST THE TREE AND AND AND AND.

everytime i think of it i end up keysmashing in my head IT'S JUST SO CUTE i could burn it into my head 😭😭😭😭

but, AHEM, he also says...

"Throughout history, humanity has always made the same wishes. Perhaps it's because those feelings we have... are timeless."

i think it's a really pretty line, but more than how pretty it is, i think it represents xavier perfectly.

xavier has lived long enough, and he's likely also made similar wishes along the way. for mc to be safe, for mc to be happy... things along those lines. and for him to describe that as "timeless" also represents his love for her—because it is timeless. he loves her more than anything else in the world. it transcends space, and time, and anything else; to him, she is love. she is timeless.

it's worth noting that everytime xavier and mc get scenes where they wish together, xavier never really says what his wishes are.

in "when shooting stars fall", mc wishes for many things. for xavier's freedom and happiness, for her to be healthy, for time to stop in their moment together... for xavier's freedom, xavier's happiness, and, in her final moments—"i wish to meet you in my next life." but he's never said explicitly what he wished for at all.

in "warm wishes", mc also mentions a lot of wishes:

"I wished I could pass all my tests with flying colors and go to a good university. I wished for Grandma to be healthy. I wished for my neighbor's cat to come home..."

and her actual wish that night was:

"l wish.... everyone can have snowflakes fall on their shoulders when they're lonely, and see the stars when they're lost."

yet that night, xavier didn't make a wish. he explicitly stated:

"l didn't make a wish. I want to save my wish for when I need it the most. Plus, everything I want right now has come true."

...but this time is different.

he did make a wish.

and, this time around, he specified what it is.

"I wish I can be your sanctuary until the end of time, in your eyes."

this is a wish that's important to him. he chooses to make this wish, and he chooses to tell her about it.

there's a lot to dissect in just one statement alone, because it's so imbued into the xavier that's loved her for thousands of years.... the xavier that has grown and developed into who he is in this moment.

a sanctuary is a place of refuge and protection; a place of safety. a place of comfort. a place of rest.

and multiple times throughout this card, it highlights how xavier has been able to offer mc a certain sense of comfort. even right when the results are announced, one look at him calms her down—this part really got me.

"I glance nervously at Xavier. He makes eye contact with me, and his gaze conveys a steadfast reassurance."

it's a recurring theme in the card—comfort. peace. the peace that you can find in someone. the safety that you can find in someone. in this case, mc with xavier, and vice versa.

...and i've always associated xavier with comfort, but peace and safety have been attributes i've been hesitant to associate with him, because it's different. for you to feel safe with someone, for you to feel at peace with someone, they need to communicate, as well, a certain sense of steadfast reassurance. xavier has always been soft and comfortable, but he hasn't always exuded that steadfast type of aura.

i think that this is something that he himself realizes.

i've mentioned it before, but his wish is also a direct parallel to That Line from lightseeking obsession.

"You rest, I’ll be by your side. Always. If you have nowhere to go, nowhere to rest your weary self… you can stay with me."

yet there's also a striking difference.

what is different?

the person that he's developed into.

prince xavier, lightseeker xavier—as i mentioned earlier, there's a certain kind of confidence in himself that isn't present, and it shows. i would argue that he was at his most vulnerable that time, likely more vulnerable than when they first landed on earth, because he didn't know how to treat his relationships at all. he was too bound by the confines of what everyone, and i mean everyone, including mc at the time, wanted him to be. there was never clear communication with anyone, and it mostly seems as if he's been going through the motions—as opposed to more freedom that he's been granted on earth.

and it shows, because, that line in lightseeking obsession—does not exude confidence.

it's a comforting statement, sure...

but it's not even something that mc herself believes.

"you always lie."

it's as if xavier, as much as he's trying to comfort mc, is trying to reassure himself, too—he tries too hard to make himself appear reassuring to her that it falls short, all this on top of the times that she feels she's been let down by him.

it's ironic, almost. he says such a bold declaration despite knowing that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to keep it.

but this is different.

this time, xavier has grown to he sure of who he is and who he wants.

he said it in 21 days—"every version of me belongs to you, and only you."

yet despite the confidence that he now has in himself, notice how different this is to lightseeker's line—

he's wishing.

and he specifies that he wants it to be true in her eyes.

it's as if he's saying, i'm not sure if this is what you think about me, but i do know that i want it to be what you think about me.

he's not reassuring her; he's not making a bold declaration. he's not saying, you will think of me as a sanctuary. neither is he saying, i will be your sanctuary.

he's saying, i want to be your sanctuary.

the final decision falls to her.

the confidence lies in stating what he wants, and there's no fear in it—there's no hesitation, nothing that implies that he's scared to say it. he's confident in what he says, and either confident that she'll accept it, or confident that no matter what her choice is in the matter it's okay.

that's why this wish is so strong.

and it's mc who then says, at the end;

"I wanted to tell you that your wishes will always come true."

because she reciprocates.

and this whole moment, everything that happens from hereon—the results, the hairpin...

—"'If you meet a Flower Goddess you like, give her fresh flowers. It's a local custom here. But there are many people who admire you, and all of them have given you flowers. My flower wouldn't be special enough. So, I made a flower hairpin. This is the first time I made one, though. Don't judge it too harshly.'"

—"Xavier's hand is warm. Like petals being carried on the wind, his smile descends and touches my heart. 'What makes you say that? It's amazing. Besides, even if you just gave me flowers, they'd be the most special ones l've ever received.'"

it's worth noting that the scene where xavier gives the hairpin is also very much the same way he makes the wish. he does admit that he doesn't know if she'd appreciate flowers—but he takes it a step forward. he knows he wants to be extra special, he knows he wants her to have something she'll remember, so he does something different. he makes, and gives her, a flower hairpin. of his own accord.

it doesn't stop at his insecurities, which he still has—he takes those insecurities and spins them into something he can be sure of himself.

and there it is again.

the steadfast reassurance.

and it's what makes the moment so much more memorable to mc, so much more meaningful.

and it's why, then, he can say things like this:

"No matter what happens, I'm always blessed to have someone by my side, who makes my gaze never feel alone."

"Forever is but a collection of moments strung together. With every minute comes another, second after second. When I open my eyes again, I want you to still be by my side."

it's in a way wherein xavier is able to take some lead in their relationship, because he's more sure of himself this time. and it progresses their relationship in a way that it wouldn't have if he never learned—he's learning. he's growing. and he's really truly turning out to be someone that can love with his whole heart, without holding back.

i think this card showcases that the most, and maybe that's why i love it so much <3

ALSO, P.S., ONE MORE PARALLEL—

xavier says that the flowers are blooming beautifully this season—"it smells like spring". in his lightseeker myth, he says: "With spring's arrival, hope is soon to follow."

and its just a neat lil thing, i think <3 spring is always so closely associated with xavier, and the card really does end on such a light and hopeful note.

[speedofsoundsketches]

I personally believe if Idw wrote Maria that way and they said "we're just expanding on the character " fans would throw a fit. Dont get me wrong, the Sonic Ova will always remain superior to whatever American Sonic story product comes out. But cant help there seems to be a lot of forced hype over a short manga that's just mostly okay with a lot of flaws.

I can only speak for myself but part of my major problem with IDW is that the attempts to “expand on the characters” are usually by making them speak out loud their thematic modus operandi instead of allowing things to be said on a subtextual level. It’s why Sonic expositioning on his “le principles” sounds insanely forced because he’s never done something like that in the games or at least, never required an essay worth of words to do that. In the games, this is done by letting characters speak through actions first and punctuating that with clear, concise statements during peak moments of clarity. Sonic simply saying “What you see is what you get! I’m just a guy who loves adventure!” after going through an entire game of him showing us this about him is more convincing than long prose on why he thinks everyone should live exactly like he does in a holier-than-thou manner. (Which is such an antithesis of Sonic’s character in the games, he is far more humble and intuitive than ppl might expect.)

The manga did imo a better job of not only writing Shadow than he is in IDW but it was all largely game compliant. Nothing in it really contradicted anything already done in the games in terms of characterization. It just feels like “more of the same” but now we get to see some of the sad, bittersweet and touching sincere friendship between Shadow and Maria, plus the foundation of all the tense internal conflict and insecurities Shadow will have to face and eventually make peace with. Plus my goodness, the RANGE of emotions he has and that he’s not some completely unreachable hardass but has complicated and deep emotions. Plus the action in it? Ooooo stunning. Him knocking out soldiers and stopping a bullet all while tying it with emotional internal declarations he was struggling with and determining that he does still have purpose even if curing Maria failed is so PALPABLE. STANDING OVATION.

His beautiful thoughts on Maria and what she means to him after she dashes away all his fears that she sees him as a tainted experimental animal like the other scientists did when facing their doom like bruh I’m in tears. It’s so well interwoven with the outward kinetic battle and leaves enough room for that which is left unsaid. Shadow speaks through his actions more than words but his thoughts and feelings just heighten the emotional peaks in this short story.

It’s not perfect but this is literally all I’d ever want. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually that difficult to please. Just write characters as they are in the games and I’m happy!

[sitp-recs]

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!

Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:

1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.

2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.

3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.

TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!

[isnt-it-pretty]

I've been reflecting a lot recently on my reaction to the news stories I often see about the dangers of technology and social media, laws banning of cell phones during school hours, school divisions banning technology, the rise of teenage depression as a result of social media, etc. I've always felt defensive over technology when I see these stories, and I think I've realized why.

As a disabled person, my relationship with technology is different than a lot of people's. I use an ereader, for example, because I have low vision and find the font in physical books too small to read. I use the notes app on my phone instead of hand writing things because it's easier on my joints. I keep my cross stitch patterns as PDFs because I can zoom in to see the stitches I need, which I can't do when it's printed out. Even in high school I brought my personal laptop to type out essays because there was a 20% grade difference in essays I typed vs wrote by hand, and whenever I see classrooms banning all technology, I think about that. I write thousands of words for creative writing on my phone because I'm too fatigued to get out of bed. I learned to read because of audiobooks taken out as CDs from the library, something I now have access to in an app. As somebody who is housebound, my entire social life is on my phone. It's how survive, how I create.

If you were to take technology from me, I would be bereft, and not because of an addiction. Technology is simply something I use to navigate the world. Disabled people just like me have lived and loved and created (and still do!) without it, but that doesn't change that I rely on technology to do things I couldn't otherwise do. I never would have learned to read beyond maybe a middle school level without audiobooks. I never would have learned to write without word processors, both of which are a major part of my identity.

Technology, to me, is accessibility, and sometimes that feels forgotten in the sweeping condemnation of it. My defensiveness can sometimes make me overlook the real issues it causes for others, just like for others the problems it causes can make them overlook how necessary it is for some of us. I can't help but think about all I gain from it and where I would be now if I hadn't had access to what I did as a child. I see the harm technology can cause children and even still I wonder, as we condemn parents for ipads and schools for over relying on computers, how many others there are like me who don't even know what they need to ask for.

It's a complicated topic, and like most complicated topics, it gets broken dowm into bite sized pieces. The nuance gets lost.

[problems-exe]

The Poem

The story of how Prim and Lu got together in the printerjamau

Wrote this a bit ago and decided it was about time I posted it. This is incredibly long, so I apologize for that, but for those interested in their story, I think it's worth the read.

Begins after the cut :]

The sound of the wind breezing through the desolate building rooftop does nothing to drown out the rapid beating of their soul.

Prim finds themselves sitting, not alone, but with a close friend. Listening to her ramble about the latest au she visited and the small bakery from which she had bought treats. The bag sitting at her side was long emptied, its contents having been eaten hours ago. Prim has found themselves a lot less alone lately.

Despite their best efforts, it's hard for them to focus on Lu’s rambles, distracted by the intense feeling of something in the air. Something about today felt distantly off. It wasn't unusual for the two to meet like this, a gift cradled in one of the skeleton's hands. But Lu had seemed so.. anxious when she asked them to meet. It was odd. She had seemed… flustered? Almost? But that wouldn't make any sense-

“Prim?” Lu pulled them out of their daze with the utterance of their name, a concerned and nervous expression on her face.

“Sorry, that wasn't that interesting, was it? I got a bit carried away…” She states, averting Prim's eyelights as a deep blush settles on her face, accentuated by the deep orangish-pinkish hues of the sun setting before them.

‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ Prim shoves that thought as soon as it crosses their mind, nervous glitches appearing up their body as they force themselves to refocus on the conversation again.

“Nah. Long day. Just zoned out.” Prim replies after a pause. A lie. And they know it's one. Their day had been fine, a typical day as any. They're always honest with her; why are they being like this now?

“Oh,” She sounded surprised, as if she had been expecting Prim to call her boring.

“I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it? I've been rambling on for a while…” She continues, looking back at Prim with a crooked smile. The usual squint of her eye sockets not present. Something was wrong. She'd been acting noticeably off all evening; they should have picked up on the pieces sooner. Prim was the worst person for something like this.

“Are- are you feeling alright? You seem.. upset.” Prim slowly gets out, thinking through the words before settling on them. Lu looks a bit startled at the question.

“I'm, um, yeah! Yeah, I'm alright, just-” She fumbles with her words for a moment, blush on her face darkening, and Prim's expression turns into a concerned frown.

“I wrote you something.” She continues, digging around in her bag for a split second before retrieving a clean, white envelope. Clasped shut with a cat sticker, the words “For Prim” written in cursive on the back. She bashfully presents the letter to Prim, and they momentarily gawk at it, carefully taking it from her hand. Careful to not get ink on it.

“You mentioned wanting to read one of my poems sometime, so..” *She adverts her gaze, voice trailing off at the end as Prim looks over the parchment presented to them. Their soul pounds in their chest, and they scramble to find balance in its weight. They stare at the small envelope, feeling deeply touched by the gesture. They reach to carefully remove the cat sticker before Lu's hands stop them.

“Don't, um, don't read it here. Read it when you get home. It'd feel embarrassing to watch you read it in front of me.” She states, with a nervous laugh, gently pulling her hands away. Prim nods carefully after a moment, slowly and delicately moving to place the parchment in their bag, careful not to bend it.

“I better get going now,” Lu interjects after watching Prim's bag close. They look up at her, surprised.

“Already?” They respond, concern still evident in their face.

“Yeah, I've got a long day tomorrow. I'll see you in a few days?” She responds, sounding hopeful, pleading almost.

“Obviously,” Prim responds immediately, worry still swirling in their chest.

“Right. Of course.” She states, as if reassuring herself.

“I'll see you then.” She continues, a tight smile on her face. She gives a wave of goodbye before disappearing into a portal, leaving Prim sitting alone. Surprised by the abruptness of it all.

They clutch at the strap to their bag, the featherlight weight of the envelope feeling heavy at their side. They're worried about what they'll find written in there. It's hard to fathom Lu acting so.. afraid over one of her poems. She'd sounded excited at the idea of sharing some with them when Prim had brought it up. Maybe she got cold feet? Even then…

Well, no point in speculating. They'll find out when they get home.

Prim sits for a moment longer, taking in the sunset one last time, attempting to calm their racing thoughts. After feeling more composed, they reluctantly rise to their feet, a tinge of anxiety gnawing at their chest.

Navigating through the usual motions of leaving a get-together like this, they slide one of their feet along the asphalt, leaving a trail of ink behind. They place their foot back next to the other, standing in place as the ink pools around them.

They begin to sink into the puddle, dragged into darkness for a split second before emerging in the cozy living room of their apartment, ink swiftly vanishing beneath them.

Taking a cautious step toward the nearby couch, they gingerly take a seat, pausing to take a deep breath. They turn their attention to the coffee table before them, using their hand to slide a few objects to the side, making room for the letter nestled in their bag.

Pausing once more to collect themselves, they carefully unfasten their bag, delicately reaching inside to withdraw the envelope. They stare at it pensively, toying with the small sticker that sealed it, a tiny yet almost taunting obstacle. They smooth the envelope with a thumb, using one hand to slowly and meticulously peel off the sticker, careful not to rip the parchment

They feel lost in their own little world, with nothing but themselves and the letter existing within the tranquil room. Unfurling the page from the envelope, they place the latter on the couch alongside them before setting the sheet down on the cleared space of the coffee table.

Their eyelights graze over the page, reading its contents carefully. It reads,

Prim,

I've written this poem for you to convey the words I've struggled to say aloud. I’m sorry for not finding the courage to tell you in person. As an artist yourself, I'm sure you understand that sometimes it's easier to express our emotions through our work.

I understand if my feelings aren't mutual; I know this must have come as a shock to you.

I just hope this doesn't change anything between us.

Yours Always,

Lu

Below this, begins the poem,

On a canvas brimming with vibrant dreams,

Where colors mix and blend with gentle grace,

I've etched our story, yours and mine,

In shades, that time will embrace.

Your smile, a brush of vibrant hue,

Turns every moment into radiant light,

And in your eyes, I find the clues,

To ignite my soul with a beautiful sight.

Each day with you, a masterstroke,

A blend of joy and true elation,

Your laughter dispels the shadows,

Bestowing me a profound sensation.

From twilight’s glow to dawn’s first rays,

My love’s a spectrum rich and rare,

In every shade, in every phase,

You're a masterpiece beyond compare.

With every brush and every stroke,

I craft a world where we could be,

A place where dreams and hearts intertwine,

A canvas created for you and me.

So I ask now, with hopeful heart,

To step inside this vivid scene,

To share a life, to play a part,

Will you be my love, my dream?

Prim sits in stunned silence, reading and rereading the words, page blurring as they attempt to process what they've just read. Lu likes them. Actually likes them. It's hard to comprehend. Why would Lu choose someone like them when she could have anyone she wanted? Lu's affection felt like a dream, too surreal to grasp.

The confession weighs heavily on Prim's chest, butterflies fluttering in their stomach. They're at a loss for words, mind racing with questions and uncertainty, but also a strong feeling of excitement that they can't push down. Their face turns a deep shade of cyan, magenta, and yellow as the realization sinks in. Lu likes them, and they like her. The words of the poem echo in their mind, evoking a soft smile. Despite being alone they start to feel embarrassed by their reaction, prompting them to pull their scarf up to cover their blushing cheeks as they read through the page once again.

A panic settles in as Prim suddenly realizes that they need to respond to Lu's confession. What do they say to her? Nothing they could say would come even close to matching what she had written for them. They never had been the best at expressing their emotions. But… Lu needed that right now. She deserved a proper response from Prim.

No wonder she had been so nervous earlier, she had poured her heart out to the inky skeleton. She's probably feeling as anxious as Prim does right now, waiting for their response.

Well, better not keep her waiting any longer.

They cast a final gaze at the poem before rising to their feet, letting their scarf fall from their face. They secure their bag firmly over their shoulder, one of their hands clasped around its strap. With unwavering determination, they proceed, ignoring their nerves.

They begin the familiar routine of creating a portal, their foot swiping across the ground with a trail of ink following in its wake. The ink gathers at their feet, pulling them into the encompassing darkness.

Upon emerging, they find themselves standing outside The Star Sanses’ base, as well as Lu's home. The Omega Timeline bathes everything in the glow of starlight, casting the surrounding area in a celestial glow. After countless visits, the building's layout is etched into their memory, allowing them to easily locate Lu's room from the outside, even in the darkness.

After a brief walk, they arrive at Lu's window, gazing up to get a glance at it. They can see her curtains partially drawn, revealing a few of her plants resting on the windowsill. Their nerves intensify as they turn their attention to the tall tree adjacent to her window. Taking a deep nervous breath, they begin the familiar climb. Despite having done this many times before, the weight of the moment makes their movements feel awkward and slow, taking longer than usual to ascend the tree.

Eventually, they settle on a sturdy branch, close enough to reach Lu's window. They pause for a moment, trying to calm their anxiety before tentatively tapping on the window and leaning back, waiting for Lu to open it.

Moments later, they catch a glimpse of Lu's face peeking through the curtains, her eyelights meeting theirs. Despite the dim lighting, her deep blush is unmistakable. With a soft click, the window unlocks and slides open, revealing Lu's head as she peeks through to see them clearly.

“What are you doing out here?” She asks, her voice filled with unease, a nervous expression on her face.

“Me too,” Prim responds quickly, their cheeks darkening as the words leave their mouth, realizing that their statement didn't quite make sense.

“...What?” Lu asks after a pause, her head tilted slightly in confusion, a slight laugh heard in her tone.

"I mean— I read the poem. Me too. I, um, I feel the same,” Prim stammers, avoiding Lu's gaze, turning their face away and tugging their scarf over their cheeks once more.

“Oh,” She breathes, surprise evident in her voice. There's another moment of silence, broken only by the chirping of the crickets and the rustle of the wind.

The air feels tight as the silence sits between them, Prim's soul pounding anxiously in their chest. They're starting to wonder if it was a bad idea coming here. What if they misunderstood the situation? What if they just messed everything up?

Gently, Lu's hand takes hold of Prim's arm, snapping them out of their thoughts; they timidly look up, finding Lu's gentle smile waiting for them. Prim feels the blush on their face deepen and forces themselves to not look away. It's hard to gauge her expression as Prim searches her face, but she doesn't appear to be upset. Lu tugs on their arm, and Prim understands the unspoken message. With Lu's help, they slowly make their way through the window and into her bedroom, landing softly on her carpet.

The silence doesn't last much longer once Prim is inside. Lu's expression is soft and adoring as she delicately takes Prim's hands, their eyelights meeting in a moment of quiet connection.

“...Really?” She asks, her voice gentle and hopeful. The look on her face leaves Prim feeling flustered, wondering how they had gotten so lucky. Prim nods, struggling to find the words, their throat tightening. Lu's smile widens.

“I want to hear you say it out loud, though,” Lu playfully pouts, her affectionate expression coaxing the words out of Prim. They feel like they'd do anything, as long as she continued to look at them like that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I, uhm…I like you. I have for a while now,” Prim responds, their voice slightly shaky. Lu's smile grows impossibly wider, her eyelights fuzzy at the edges, glistening with tears of joy.

“Will you be my partner, Prim?” Lu asks, her voice filled with hope and excitement.

“I'd like that,” Prim replies easily, their face flushed, gazing back at Lu with the same adoration.

“Cool,” She responds with a wet giggle, using one hand to wipe happy tears from her eye sockets.

“Cool,” Prim repeats, with a similarly elated expression. They gently replace Lu's hand with theirs, wiping the tears from her face. The two of them stay like that for a moment, silent, until Lu speaks again.

“May I..?” She asks, face flushed, eyelights flicking down to their mouth. Prim nods, and Lu leans in.

Yeah, coming here had been the right decision after all.

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[adoresia]

Hello!! I saw you were taking requests for jjk this is my first time asking for anything but I was wondering if you could write something angsty for reader x Choso? It can be anything I’m just craving angst 😣😣

— 5 STAGES OF GRIEF

⋆.˚ WARNINGS : none it’s just sad ig 😅

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS : In which Choso loses the love of his life

⋆.˚ SIERRA SPEAKS : I feel like I disappointed with this one I’m ngl😭 I kinda wrote it in Choso’s pov and got a bit to carried away, y/n is more read through his eyes if that even makes sense. Yeah I’m just gonna post it and see what happens cause idek atp. I hope I didn’t 100% disappoint you😔

Here we go again. The same reoccurring theme of death had once again pierced Choso’s heart, and this time it was unbearable. Even for a half cursed spirit like himself. The amplitude of his heart beats had grown heavier and heavier until it was consumed in sorrow, hatred, and most of all, anger. A feeling in his heart that wasn’t foreign, but is or was so intense that for the second time it felt like the furnace of hell had possessed his whole Existence .

But there he sat, bargaining with a pool full of his own tears. Yet again, over the loss of someone that he would’ve thought he could never lose. Someone he thought he would never lose, and yet he did. Again. In a house that was meant to reside the both of you. You and him, united, for the rest of eternity now only contained one.

And that was how it was going to be, even if he couldn’t come to terms with never feeling the warmth coursing through your veins. Even if it meant he could never again feel your precious heart beating exclamatively with love for him. Even if it meant he could no longer deny how softly you peered into his love-struck eyes, unraveling the story of what they told. Only because you could, because you were the only person who could.

Instead of you being there to tell him that everything would be okay, the stuffed panda that was poisoned with your scent was all he had left to comfort him. And although your aroma breathed through the stuffed animal you left behind purified senses, It would never ever be enough to purify his now eternally Brocken heart. Because without you anymore there was no point in his heart, there was no reason to live.

The space you once shared was now depressingly vacant. Everywhere he looked he was met with a soul shattering image of you, and it broke him even more that now your death was what he was forced to remember you by. Instead of the time he pointed up at the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity with you by his side. Everytime it replayed in his mind you had now become his very own hand-crafted star in the sky, now forever having to point up at you, it pained him that no matter how far he reached you were to far gone for him to bring back.

“Oh y/n. How I wish you were still here with me.”

[lover-of-mine]

On the question of the new viewers. Let me preface with after getting burned bad I made a promise I would never ship Canon straight characters as queer ships ever again. It just comes into play to understand the readers digest version of this. Yes I was always aware of the Buddie ship and the actors but that was it

I accidentally started season 6. It just came on, and I just didnt look away. Here's how it went.

I actually saw the lasagna dinner scene and thought wait they went Canon? That's them right? Then quickly realized. Nope 2 straight besties. Bucks a cool uncle (didn't know about will scene forgive me). And proceeded to not get attached.

Actually easy because they separated them a bit. But then there was the lightening strike and poker date and I was like oh somethings happening. I was wrong they had the dopey ass ending and I was like bless me for not getting invested.

Then.... It was a year wait!!!!!! So it was a boredom tune back in. I was pleased to see Bucks bi story. I thought the first kiss was charming. Then he was just there. I left the season thinking Eddie was tragically in love with his dead wife and Buck was experimenting.

If I didn't go back to binge I would have gone into 8 with these expectations. Eddie either excepting he was a tragic single father forever. Buck, yes probably seeing Tommy, but no I was not a shipper. Firstly because of appearance. I have no problem with age difference but with them I just don't like it. Tommy seems older and rougher. On the flip side personality. That Tommy wasn't what I pictured Bucks end game as like at all. I wanted someone like Spencer Reid if it wasn't Eddie.

But... . I did go back and binge. S1 was a trip. Got to S2. Saw the opening. Went duh I get why they ship them, but you ain't getting me. Until the elf scene. I really was good. But right after the elf scene I remembered hearing how Tim wrote it as a nod and double checked.. Remember, it would be weird to see the scene and know Tim knows after knowing full well yes Buck would come out queer. So it really was a no brainer after that. No way Tim created this in S2 if they weren't end game if there was ever a chance.

Then came the well, tsunami, shooting, will reveal, break ups, co dependant idiots and finally caught back to the lasagna and lightening. Also seeing how much Eddie isn't a reliable narrator about his relationship with Shannon. The version I got at the end of 7 is not what was happening on my screen in 2. I would almost label it a red herring depending on how this plays out in 8. Also after watching the begin episodes I understood anyone's frustration that Tommy was just white washed.

Final conclusion. Not even trying to sound condescending but I don't know why the other side even thinks this is a "ship war". I was late and I never hated Tommy but I would have never shipped them as end game. I couldn't even tell if Tommy actually liked Buck. I was left with the ick of Buck was a consolation prize or second choice and Buck was trying way to hard. Taking scraps and being grateful. Maybe because I binged it was more fresh but it was more of how little self respect Buck had for himself in trying to be in a relationship.

And if anyone finished reading that you deserve an award.

This is an interesting view of things, I think if you only have the s7 context, you will see them differently because the whole Kim thing really messes with the perception of Eddie and love, thank you for coming and telling me this, really.

But this kinda made me talk about my experience with buddie, so I'm gonna do that, because I think it's funny. I didn't know much about the show, but I knew of buddie, I started watching during the hiatus between 5a and 5b and during that time there was some big talk about queerbaiting going around and I know of them next to ships like destiel and stucky and destiel, I had just read an article on queerbaiting that had a section talking about them, so I kinda assumed buddie would be the same as they had enough context to create a ship but not enough for it to have a real chance of going canon, so I was set on not shipping them. Like, I was legit ready to roll my eyes and see that Buck and Eddie with their respective female love interests and be like "okay they are never going anywhere" but then an elf pretty much calls them gay as Eddie justifies sleeping with his wife 10 episodes in and I was like "oh oh" because they have a compelling friendship and I'm a sucker for best friends to lovers, but I was fighting it, until the tsunami, because seriously, I watched Eddie go "there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you" after a situation where no one would blame Eddie if he needed time and I was done for. Then they just kept getting more insane about each other. I remember watching the will reveal and being like "wait, fuck me, are they gonna go there?" because they follow all the basic procedural slowburn tropes, and I started s5 being like 👀 about everything that was happening to them. Now that Buck is bi, I'm seriously 95% sure buddie is happening because all the elements are there. There is something very compelling about Buck and Eddie together when you look at the whole show and s7 really added to that. Settling for Buck in a relationship with someone who's clearly not that into him just because it's a queer relationship doesn't feel right when Eddie is right there.

[rowanisawriter]

writer q&a

thanks for the tag @luvwich i love talking about myself lmao

tagging… @mashamorevvna @yourworsttotebag @swordbisexual no pressure

When did you start writing?

10 or 11 handwriting a three part series in notebooks lol i still remember the plot of my first book which was basically xmen AU. fic writing also started around that time

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

not really, my writing and my taste in reading usually align. even poetry which i read a lot of but don’t write, somehow still sneaks into my writing because i like making things read pretty

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

idk about fic but for published authors i like sally rooney and her character work, and i also love t. s. eliot’s rhythmic style in poetry, im always trying to emulate them

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

i have a toddler to the answer so this for now is my phone on the couch or in my bed in the middle of the night lmao. i’ve learned how to write under weird circumstances, but hopefully once she gives back some of the mental capacity she takes from me daily then i’ll sit at a table or something

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

can’t do it easily lol it comes to me in visions, usually after i read something or see a piece of art but if it’s not there it’s not there

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

i write a lot about religion… no that’s not surprising…. i also write a lot about love… that’s not surprising either lol

What is your reason for writing?

i like stories a lot, and i like being praised, so writing stories and having people read them checks two boxes for me lol

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all comments are precious, but comments where people find something that i didn’t consciously put into a fic those are my favorite comments. i put a lot of myself into everything i write, sometimes i write things i don’t think about, when someone points it out it feels very personal (good)

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

hope i don’t come across as insane, i want to be aloof and interesting but then people find me on tumblr and learn the truth

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

hopefully emotion, i focus a lot on that instead of setting or plot most of the time so if i get emotion right then that’s good, as long as i can make someone feel something then they’re compelled to continue reading (conversely when i am reading something and don’t feel any emotional connection to the thing then i put it down)

How do you feel about your own writing?

i like it very much, it’s the exact thing i want to read, and it was a very long road getting here to my true voice and style. i reread my own work constantly i really like it

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

i can only write for myself, the motivation to write is only there if it’s something i want to write, even challenges and prompts i struggle with because there is some aspect of “this isn’t truly my idea” that i struggle with. i’ve written things that just aren’t popular (weird ship, quiet fandom, etc) but i wrote it anyway because i wanted to. obvs i want to be read otherwise i wouldn’t post online but i have a good audience now so usually no matter what i write it does get read anyway, so may as well just write what i want lol

[starrysnowdrop]

Were there any barriers to you establishing your OCs relationship? Perhaps social or cultural stigma? Or a concern that "ships" with that character were already overdone? Or simply a fear of being seen as "cringe"? If so then how did you overcome this?

Ohhh now this is a good one, as this is something that I’ve been told, that I have inspired others to “overcome their fears” of shipping based on certain stigmas in the FFXIV fandom, so let’s get into it shall we? Oh and I will apologize in advance, as this WILL get long.

The Stigmas

Hali x Aymeric

So for Hali x Aymeric, the obvious stigma is that Hali is a lalafell, and Aymeric is not. Though I’ve seen lately that this stigma has waned a bit, especially here on Tumblr where people who infantilize lalas don’t seem to last long, but keep in mind that there is still plenty of lala infantilism on the bird app and other places like Reddit and in game.

For my main ship, that is really the only thing that I see that makes the ship “problematic” to some in the fandom; some people still see lalafells as “child-coded”, despite lalafells being a fantasy race of little people, no different to gnomes, hobbits, dwarves, etc. in other fantasy media, and despite the in game world treating lalafellin adults the same as any other race.

Yume x Zenos

(Yume’s blog: @firelightmuse)

So for Yume x Zenos, but also to a lesser extent Urania (Hali’s Azem) x Hermes, and my other secret ship that I haven’t revealed yet because it’s still in development, these ships fall into the category of being “problematic” because they are Hero x Villain ships at their core, and because Zenos, Hermes, and the secret ship partner are all major antagonists in the story, they have many haters.

Now there isn’t anything wrong with not liking certain characters, as I truly think we all have certain characters that we just don’t vibe with for one reason or another. But there is a problem, however, when people go after villain shippers just because they happen to not like those characters.

Just like with the Lala infantilism problem, villain ships get a lot of hate in the fandom, but for different reasons. I would guess that the main reason is the haters assume that villain shippers either don’t see that the villains have done bad things and/or try to minimize or excuse the villains’ bad behavior. Now I won’t say that there aren’t a few people out there who will truly excuse a villain’s bad behavior and try to make them out to not be as bad of a person as they are written in canon. But I really do think that there’s not as many of them as the haters are likely to believe.

Remember: just because someone is a fan of a villain doesn’t mean they agree with their actions, and a writer is NOT the same as their character. For example, Yume may minimize and/or downright ignore all of the pain and suffering Zenos has inflicted upon not only her, but innumerable others, doesn’t mean that I as Yume’s writer share the same views. I actually consider Yume to ride the thin line between anti-hero and villain herself, just so y’all know.

How to Overcome the Stigmas

So now that the individual stigmas of each of my ships have been outlined, how did I overcome the stigmas? And how difficult was it for me to do?

Well, if you’ve followed me for several years already, you might’ve seen that Hali, my lala WoL, is not the first WoL I have written. That honor goes to Yume, who is a Raen Au Ra and she doesn’t come with the same stigma that Hali does as a lalafell. So I had the privilege for several years of being able to write Yume without the infantilism that Hali would have to fight against in the fandom. But those years gave me enough courage in my own writing to create Hali and to fend off the stigma of lala x non-lala shipping and my own insecurities surrounding it.

Though it was difficult, and it took me a long time to do so, I eventually realized that I was happier and way more fulfilled when I wrote what I wanted to and not what I thought my followers or my friends or anyone else wanted. Trust me, I tried more “popular” and less “problematic” ships before, and even though they were nice at the time, I ultimately dropped them because I realized that I didn’t feel fulfilled, and that I was scared to write for more “problematic” ships because I feared the backlash.

One HUGE thing that I highly recommend is to find yourself a good support system to surround yourself with. Whether that be reaching out to your mutuals here on Tumblr or joining discord servers with like minded individuals, having people there who can help you through your journey in shipping will help greatly! Trust me, I wouldn’t be where I am today without my support system to be there for me when I’m having a bout of anxiety and/or insecurity with my writing.

Another thing that I highly recommend you do is to Unfollow, Hide, and/or Block haters liberally!! Please, it’s for your own mental health and wellbeing to do so! If you’re wanting to ship your lala oc for example, never hesitate to block the lala haters out there! No good will come from seeing the hate all over your feed, because it will just bring you down.

That’s about all I have for now. If you have any other questions on this subject, please do not hesitate to send me a message, DM, or ask!! I am always happy to help with any questions or advice when it comes to shipping! Thank you so much @mimble-sparklepudding for the ask, and thank you all for reading this very long winded answer!! 💖

[lizardsfromspace]

Okay, this is the conclusion to my posts about Sophia Stewart. I'll never do something like this again

Everything I've posted is from her own book or her web presence btw. That's all I'm drawing from and if anyone tells me any information about her they gained any other way I'll block them immediately so uh, don't

Towards the end she reveals some of her other pitches. By showing she copywrote sequels to the Matrix and Terminator

Lots of strange details here - she wrote The Matrix 4 in 2000? They didn't even start filming The Matrix 2 & 3 until 2001. Also, we can see in this book that her pitch has nothing to do with The Matrix or Terminator, but she claims she wrote direct sequels to both?

(Her explanation for how both very different films are ripping off her work - a 1:1 copy, she claims - is, hilariously, that The Terminator plagiarizes it front to back, while The Matrix plagiarizes it back to front. What?)

But also she didn't write it. She registered copyright on a synopsis for The Matrix 4. She has concepts of a plan for a Matrix 4.

The book ends with a pitch for another...she calls it a book, but it's a movie pitch? And this, too, is just a synopsis for some grand epic series, light on detail of character and plot and heavy with lore and rants (in this case, primarily about God and Adam & Eve). Of course her exhaustively long but barely sketched-out epic movie pitch has a prologue, which is also full of Christian-tinged Ancient Aliens pyramid power woo.

Sophia Stewart is unimportant, bc she represents a class of writer. Writers who have Ideas. Who have outlines and plot points but no real story, bc they never write it. But they think just having Really Good Ideas is enough - that you should get credit for coming up with a good idea for a story, regardless of if you make an actual story out of it. They're a "writer", but they never write. Despite this they often have a deep case of Dunning-Kruger, churning out outlines that leave out basic details like "what happens in the climactic battle" and the personalities of characters while insisting that an inability to author anything shouldn't keep you from being praised as a genius author

If that type of person is lucky enough to have money, they become a studio executive or tech guy, both professions awash in the uncreatively creative, or they hire ghostwriters. If they're not, they become the type of person to file spurious lawsuits under the misapprehension they own basic plot concepts. It's the "I coulda made the majors!" of writing, except, you know. Baseball players who didn't make the majors still actually played baseball at some point. I assume from now on all those types will just pump their outline into ChatGPT and try to sell the gunk it slops out and then claim they 'wrote' it so uh, uhhhhhhhhhhhh

The only reason I made these posts was discovering the conspiratorial angle to her work, bc who cares if a major studio has to deal with a spurious lawsuit? That was the part that actually sucks. But also, she does a lot of press: profiles on news websites, podcasts, that documentary was even made by other filmmakers, who actually make films. It's persisted from blogs and chain emails all the way to podcasts and TikToks. All of this uncritically spreads her story, but I also have to ask: how many actual African-American science fiction writers do those platforms profile? How many of them get documentaries made about their work? How much air is being sucked out of the room by the decades long misinformation about the "true" creator of The Matrix? And why is that misinformation so persistent when it takes a trivial amount of effort to find out it just isn't true? It feels good to support the underdog against the big studio, but in this case it just isn't true.

The sad truth is a lot more Hollywood plagiarism cases look like this than are real exposures of wrongdoing, but people tend to accept them at face value since they feel like a little guy taking on a corporation, though in reality it's just two writers suing each other. Take The Holdovers case, where people immediately turned on it, but if you look into it, the two scripts have very little in common, and the accusing writer makes odd claims like a human character in The Holdovers being a ripoff of a billboard in his script.

Or look at Groundhog Day, which was accused of plagiarism by Richard A. Lupoff, writer of the story "12:01 P.M.". The two stories have nothing in common besides a time loop; in Groundhog Day he's reliving a day, in 12:01 PM he's reliving an hour. Groundhog Day is a romcom, 12:01 P.M. plays it for horror. Groundhog Day never reveals the source of its lop but it's clearly fantastical in nature, 12:01 P.M. is explicitly science fiction. In Groundhog Day he escapes the loop, in 12:01 P.M. he never does. You can't deny Lupoff felt personally slighted, but at the end of the day, a world where a writer could own the concept of time loops would be a dystopia where creativity and art would die.

But even though they were wrong, The Holdovers & Groundhog Day cases were based on real works of writing that existed. They were based on a real, if misguided, sense of violation from the writers. But in this case, we have a mere outline of a story with not even basic similarities to the stories she's claiming are a 1:1 copy of her work, and decades of media appearances based on exploiting a community college media student's mistake in 2004. Anyway seems bad

[waywardstation]

WIP FRIDAY

I apologize for getting this out two days late, I’ve been busy with lots of packing and events! But I have a little reprieve, so I wanted to post another WIP; this one is from Heart Full, Bowl Empty.

BE AWARE THAT THIS SEGMENT INVOLVES A CONVERSATION REVOLVING AROUND UNWILLING BUT INTENTIONAL STARVATION. I know there are people who say they can’t read this fic because of themes like this, so be aware of this before reading this WIP!!

I included this snippet in today’s WIP because I have like three versions of the entire segment this snippet is from. I feel like it’s a really important segment with a really important conversation, and I’ve had a hard time balancing all the emotions the way I want to between Ingo and Akari, with frustration, sadness, anger, and empathy, to realistically get them to the resolution I want at the end of it.

The final version will probably only include a few parts from this particular segment.

Enjoy!!

—————

“I knew it! You’re doing it again!” Akari’s eyebrows scrunched, trying to understand through the frustration. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Circumstances will improve soon.” Clearly done with the conversation, that was all Ingo said, but it was confession enough that he had fallen back on his word. Shame contaminated his voice, but if there was any regret, he hid it well.

“No, it won’t!” They were not even half-way through winter yet. “And you know it won’t!”

Ingo said nothing as the kits carefully moved around his slumped form, finding comfortable places to settle around him. She didn’t know if he intended to snuff the conversation out with angered silence, or if he was just too exhausted to care about arguing with her anymore. If it wasn’t for his small occasional signs of movement or acknowledgement, she’d think he was actually sleeping.

Akari carefully stepped into the nesting layers, moving to sit down next to Ingo. She settled with her back against the cavern wall, pulling her knees close as a few kits shuffled around to accommodate her. “You know I’m right.”

Huffing out an irritated sigh and nothing more, it didn’t seem like Ingo had any intentions to engage with her argument anymore.

“You couldn’t even pull yourself up over the ridge,” She prodded at him again, trying to motivate more conversation out of him. “I had to help you!”

“There are many, many factors that go into that.” A reluctant answer, perhaps a reflexive attempt to quell her worry; Ingo feebly rubbed his wrapped hand, almost as a display for his excuse.

“I’ve seen you do more when you’ve been hurt worse.” Akari retorted, a little softer now but still cold.

Ingo’s eyes remained closed, though his hardened expression implied that it came across as more accusatory than she’d intended. But perhaps it was precisely the time to be accusatory.

“Ingo, you’re so tired all the time now – you stopped coming to the training grounds because you just can’t make the trips all the time anymore! And you’re sleeping so much more than you used to, and it’s like you’re always hungry all the time, even though all I see you doing anymore is gathering food!” Akari’s voice grew more jagged as she continued to jab at him, entirely uninterrupted.

It was getting difficult. With Ingo’s tunic still sopping by the bucket, still somewhat red from the exhausted effort of washing out the blood, it could not hide the ribs that pressed out just a little bit more, or help fill out what the waistline had lost under the loosening belt. The abject dread of directly acknowledging that was too much.

“And- and look! You aren’t even willing to hold a conversation with me anymore, and I don’t know if it’s because you just won’t, or because you can’t!” The kits shifted uncomfortably as Akari retreated back into her own frustration instead. “People think you’re sick, Ingo! They’re asking me about you! What are you doing?”

The exhausted man remained where he laid in the nesting material, only moving his hands to rub at his face and sigh — a deep, forced sigh that swelled his side before releasing. Akari almost didn’t think he’d answer her, but with some effort, he propped himself up first onto his elbows, then slumped forward. The teen watched him run shaky fingers through his hair as he sat next to her.

“…I don’t know what I should do.” The guilt. The weary guilt cracked his voice and tore Akari’s anger down to heartache.