#not that long ago i had somewhat lost the motivation to write

[nnnn99999]

So I started writing my FadelStyle meta for ep 5 and it's going to be a long one. Like really really long. Good luck to me and anyone else who decides to read it.

[luvrgreyy]

FRUITS OF THE FLESH.

widow!reader x priest!leon

word count: 3.4k summary: a man reaps what he sows. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. catholicism, religious connotations, no specific time frame but i’d like to say victorian era-ish, alot of allusions to the lord or god, reader’s dead husband idk, inner conflict, denial, guilt, leon asking for forgiveness like a hundred times, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

a/n: started this like two months ago, just had the motivation to finally finish. i don’t really know how i feel about my writing on this one… i feel like i’ve lost all my skills after not writing for a few weeks

grief is truly a horrible thing. an all-consuming force that threatens to eat you from the inside out.

it’s a shadow that lingers, a specter that moves silently but persistently, weaving itself into the fabric of every moment. it does not announce its presence with fanfare, nor does it depart when you will it to. instead, it creeps, slow and steady, like the cold wind before a storm, pressing against your chest until breathing feels like a sin.

grief is not a feeling; it is a presence. it is a weight, heavy and suffocating, as if drowning in a dark, endless sea. the surface is so far above, unreachable, and the water presses in from all sides, choking the breath from your lungs. there’s simply no escaping it. eve when you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, it finds you there too.

grief is a thief that takes more than just what you’ve lost—it takes time, peace, and clarity. it takes pieces of you.

and ever since your husband’s death, you’ve been trying to pick those pieces back up. but they slip through your fingers like sand, scattering in the wind, impossible to gather in their entirety. every attempt to rebuild feels futile, as though you’re trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts, the picture never quite forming the way it once did.

the room is relatively empty, save for a few devout attenders who are spread out in their pews. the priest stands on the altar, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his features as he continues the mass. it’s a somewhat traditional ceremony, filled with prayers and rituals that you’d grown accustomed to.

the priest stands before the small congregation, the words of the mass flowing effortlessly from his lips.

you sit near the back, hands folded tightly in your lap. the rhythmic cadence of the priest’s voice, the latin prayers echoing in the cavernous space, should bring you some semblance of peace, but it doesn’t. it feels distant, as though you’re watching the service through a veil, separated from the others.

the priest's voice drones on, a familiar melody that fails to soothe the ragged edges of your heart. you feel like an outsider, a stranger among the devoted faithful. even the rituals that once brought comfort now seem hollow, the prayers falling flat against the weight of your sorrow.

as the mass draws to a close, the priest's eyes meet yours, his gaze piercing and knowing. for a moment, you feel like an animal trapped in his sights, vulnerable and exposed.

the priest's gaze lingers on you a moment longer than necessary as he processes the end of the mass. the small congregation begins to file out of the pew, murmuring gentle blessings and well-wishes to one another. he watches them go, his eyes lingering on each face, before turning to face you once more.

the nave slowly empties, leaving only a handful of devotees behind, including yourself. he remains at the altar, hands folded in quiet contemplation. the soft rustle of the evening breeze carries the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a melancholy reminder of the passing seasons.

"you stayed behind," leon observes, his voice a gentle whisper.

"is there something on your mind, my child?" he approaches you slowly, his large frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor.

“no, father, everything’s fine," you lie through your teeth, your voice barely a whisper.

"is all well?" there's a pause, and in it, you sense an invitation to share your burdens, to unburden yourself to this man of the cloth. but the words stick in your throat, tangled around the aching void your husband left.

what could you possibly say? what good would it do? the priest's eyes search yours, his face etched with compassion. then, he nods, as if he understands the futility of words.

he accepts your silence, his gaze softening with understanding. in this sacred space, he knows better than to pry, to force confessions or unburdenings. instead, he allows you the solitude you crave, the quiet contemplation you so desperately need.

the silence between you stretches on, a fragile truce that exists solely in this sacred space. it's a comfort, of sorts, to have this shared quiet, a reminder that even in the depths of your grief, there are still moments of solace to be found.

"i'll leave you be for now," leon says eventually, his voice a gentle murmur that breaks the spell.

"thank you, father." he nods, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he takes his leave, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound in the hallowed space.

eventually, you rise, stretching your stiff limbs. the cool stone beneath your feet is a jarring contrast to the warmth of the pew. making your way to the front of the church, you light a candle, your fingers brushing against the smooth glass as you set it upon the altar. the flame flickers to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding statues.

you linger a moment longer, savoring the peaceful atmosphere, before making your way out.

the church is bathed in an eerie, moonlit glow when you return late that night. the candle you lit earlier still burns, its flame a slowly dying down.

you move with a quiet reverence, your footsteps muffled by the soft carpeting as you make your way to the front row of pews. you've come seeking answers, but none present themselves as you approach the altar. the statue of the crucified christ looms above, his suffering face a poignant reminder of the pain that accompanies loss.

the shadows cast by the statues seem to deepen and twist, taking on a life of their own in the dim light. a shiver runs down your spine, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. something feels off, a discordant note that you can't quite place.

you pray, hoping it’ll all go away, but unease persists.

it's subtle at first, a whispered thought on the edge of your consciousness. but the longer you have your back turned, the more you feel as if someone is behind you. but you don’t dare look.

not until it speaks.

“what are you doing here, my child?," you hear him say softly, his voice carrying a note of gentle warning. "you shouldn't be here this late."

his words send a chill down your spine, the softness of his tone at odds with the tension emanating from him. you slowly turn around, your heart pounding in your chest. leon stands just behind your seat, his silhouette large and imposing against the blackness outside. his eyes glint in the candlelight, a predatory keenness that makes your blood run cold.

"father," you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. "i... i just felt the need to pray," he takes a step closer, his footsteps deliberate and heavy.

"at this hour? prayers can wait till morning. you shouldn't be here, not alone, not now.”

“but, why?” you ask, a hint of fear creeping into your voice. “does the church not allow visitors at any time?”

guilt pricks at his heart, a sharp pang of conscience that he's not entirely sure he wants to acknowledge. “no, of course not. the church doors are always open. but this is late, and you're alone... it's just not safe,” his tone is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of something else - a hunger he's trying his damnedest to suppress.

“is that really the reason, father?”

guilt gnaws at him, a growing sense of unease that he can't quite shake. "of course, that's the only reason," he lies, his voice wavering slightly. but the truth lingers in the air, a palpable tension that he can't seem to dissipate.

he takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame despite his better judgment. "perhaps... perhaps i misjudged. the church's doors are always open, for the faithful and the lost alike," his eyes roam over your face, drinking in the curves of your features, the softness of your skin in the candlelight. “especially to you.”

a low groan escapes him, half-desire, half-anguish. "forgive me, child. i should not be saying these things,”

“no, wait—“ you softly reach for his arm.

he freezes at the touch, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers make contact with his arm. the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through him, his resolve crumbling like sand beneath the tide.

"don't," he whispers, his voice rough with strain. "please, don't." but even as the words leave his lips, he can't bring himself to pull away, to sever the connection between you.

“but i haven’t done anything, father,”

"you've done plenty, my child," he murmurs, his voice thick with a mix of longing and self-loathing. "just by being here, by existing... you've awakened desires i thought long buried." leon's breathing grows ragged, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

he steps closer still, the heat of his body radiating towards you like a physical manifestation of his turmoil. "i am a man, not a saint," his confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his forbidden attraction.

“and…” he shakes his head, a bitter struggle that leaves him weak-kneed and aching. "i should send you home," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cover yours, to hold it in place. "before we both regret this.”

“no, please don’t push me away, father,” you plead.

his eyes flicker closed, as if in supplication to some higher power, as the admission spills from his lips: "i'm sorry, child. so very sorry for what i am about to do.”

his body crowds yours, crushing the air from your lungs with the sheer force of his need. his mouth descends, claiming yours in a bruising kiss that sets your very soul ablaze. the world narrows to the taste of him — smoke, spice, and something uniquely his own.

it's overwhelming, consuming, and yet, somehow, it's the most natural thing in the world.

and when you end up pushed up against his office desk, the wood cold and unforgiving against your back, you know things have gone irrevocably awry. his hands, so recently devoted to guiding prayer, now roam the curves of your body with a reverence bordering on the religious.

your lips part on a gasp, allowing him greater access, and he seizes the invitation with a fervor that leaves you breathless. large hands roam your body, mapping the contours of your frame with a desperation that belies his years of discipline. he breaks the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, the rapid beating of your pulse point a siren's call he's powerless to resist.

he's shaking, the tremors starting deep within, spreading outward through his muscles like ripples on a pond's surface.

"forgive me, lord," he whispers to himself, as if seeking divine absolution from the sin that he’s about to commit. but even as the plea leaves his lips, he doesn't let go. instead, he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your knuckles.

then he's on his knees in front of you, hands grasping at the hem of your dress. the fabric rustles as he pushes it upward, baring your thighs to his hungry gaze. his breath is heavy, face mere inches from your center.

"tell me to stop," he pleads, his voice a ragged whisper. "command me to sin no more, and i will obey.”

for a moment, he teeters on the brink, the line between devotion and lust blurring until it's nearly indistinguishable. "please," leon's eyes lock onto yours, searching for the strength to resist, to obey his vows. but what he finds there is surrender, a silent plea that sends his resolve crumbling like the weakest brick.

"father," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.

he closes his eyes, a silent, anguished prayer issuing forth from his lips. his hands tremble as they part your legs wider, stealing a breath from your chest. slowly, reverently, he leans in, finally dragging you underwear down, exposing you to his gaze.

"you are so beautiful,"

his voice cracks on the words, a mixture of awe, reverence, and raw, animal desire. he can't tear his eyes away from your unveiled flesh, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst.

"pray with me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your slick folds. "ask for forgiveness, for the sins we are about to commit." even as he speaks, he's dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, the sensation making you gasp and shudder.

"our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,”

his hands roam your hips, gripping the soft flesh as if to steady himself against the waves of his own depravity.

“thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,"

each curve of your body yields to his touch as his fingertips traced a path of fire across your skin. desperation and control tangled within his gestures, gripping onto the softness beneath his hands as he strives to anchor himself against the tumultuous waves of desire and decadence that threaten to crash over him.

“glory be to the father, and to the son, and to the holy spirit…”

the words are a broken whisper, a plea for mercy that's drowned out by the urgent throb of his own need.

“amen.”

he brings his mouth to you at last, and with a groan of surrender, he begins to eat you out with a hunger that knows no bounds.

he laves at your clit with a fervor that leaves you panting and weak-kneed. you're a mess of whimpers and moans, your hands fisting in his hair as he works you over. leon's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the flesh as he eats you out with a single-minded determination.

"yes, yes, just like that," you babble, your voice a desperate chant, even as your vision starts to blur at the edges.

one of his hands drifts lower, his fingers seeking out the entrance to your womb. he teases the delicate skin, tracing the outline of your slit before slipping a finger inside. a low groan rumbles in his chest at the slick heat that envelops him, urging him on.he works two fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm, the lewd squelch of your juices only further fueling his own desire.

"please, father, i need—" the words die on your lips as a particularly intense thrust of his fingers sends you plummeting over the brink.

his eyes blaze with an unholy light as he takes in your ravished expression, his own need reaching a fever pitch. he surges to his feet, shedding his robe and shoving his pants down with a desperate haste. he reaches for you, pulling you forward effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all.

he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself in time with the frantic beat of his heart. "i'm sorry," he whispers, his voice raw with anguish and guilt. "so very sorry."

he hovers over you, his thick length prodding, seeking entrance to the very core of your being. you help guide him in, a hand slowly pushing back on the back if his neck as the thick head of his cock breaching your entrance with a slight burning sensation. he groans, his hips bucking forward as he sheathes himself fully within you.

for a moment, you're both still, letting the intensity of it all wash over you.

and he starts to move forward, inch by inch, the wooden desk creaks in protest beneath you. his eyes squeeze shut as he buries himself to the hilt, your slick walls clenching around him like a vice.

"oh, my lord, forgive me," he breathes, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he struggles to still the tremors that rack his frame. "i am a man undone.”

he starts to move, slowly at first, each thrust a testament to the effort it takes him to resist the primal urge to rut into you like an animal in heat. his hips rise and fall in a deliberate rhythm, each stroke drawing a gasp from your lips.

"you feel so good," he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. he pulls nearly all the way out before plunging back in, the slick glide of his thick length a pleasure unlike anything you've ever known.

sweat drips from his brow as he pounds into you with a fervor that borders on religious ecstasy. each thrust is a prayer, a confession, a plea for absolution. his eyes never leave yours, searching for some glimmer of forgiveness in their depths.

"i'm— i’m close," he warns, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

your head rolls back, a silent moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounts. his hands fly to your face, cradling your cheeks as he forces your gaze to meet his.

"please, please, don't look away." he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a chaste kiss. "i need to see you," he murmurs, his hips stuttering in their relentless rhythm as he fights for control.

he can feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter within him until he's teetering on the precipice. his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing as if trying to imprint every curve and valley onto his very being.

he's a hairsbreadth from the edge, the tension coiled so tightly within him that he's not sure he can contain it much longer. but for you, he'll try.

he'll endure the sweet agony of restraint. he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers a final plea.

"dear god, i'm so very sorry." the words are a prayer, a plea for forgiveness not just from the divine, but from you. he knows that what he's doing is wrong, that he's violating the sacred trust that he's been entrusted with as a man of the cloth. but in this moment, caught up in the maelstrom of his own desire, he can't bring himself to care.

he hooks an arm beneath your knees, pulling you higher up on the desk. the new angle allows him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock brushing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your body responds, arching up to meet him as a keening wail tears from your throat. he watches, entranced, as ecstasy washes over you in waves, your face a mask of rapturous bliss.

you finally feel his heat as it floods your innermost depths just moments later.

he collapses onto you, his weight crushing in its intimacy as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his heart pounds against your ribcage, a frantic with regret and release.

he stays there, draped over you, his breathing ragged and uneven as he tries to regain some semblance of control. his body is slick with sweat, his muscles trembling with the aftershocks. slowly, he pulls back, his hands still cradling your face as he looks deep into your eyes.

his breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to regain some semblance of control, to quiet the chaos that rages within him.

"forgive me," he whispers, the plea hanging heavy in the air between you.

he knows it's not enough. he's broken the trust, violated the sacred vows he's taken. there's no going back from this, no easy path to redemption. the knowledge that he's failed, that he's fallen so very far from the path of righteousness, fills him with a deep, abiding shame. but for now, in this moment, he can only cling to the thin thread of your forgiveness and hope that it's enough.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[little-diable]

May thy knife – Feyd-Rautha (smut)

This is y'alls fault, all your comments made me write this. So, here we go, psychotic reader is back, but with a somewhat loving relationship. It felt only right to twist this famous scene – I'm sure this has been done before but I haven't read a fic that takes on this twist just yet, so I'm in no means copying any fic out there. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if the reader, who is married to Feyd-Rautha, didn't know that Paul, her brother, was still alive? What if it was her fighting against him instead of Feyd – all for revenge, to make her brother feel the same pain he had forced her to feel with his faked death?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), willingly rough loss of virginity, choking, dom!Feyd, degrading, spitting, fighting, passing out, blood licking, knife licking, reader is a psycho fitting Feyd, yet there's some form of love between the two, and no, I ain't killing us so we survive the fight

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!Atreides!reader (4.2k words)

The hatred she emanated was felt by all people surrounding her, people who didn’t dare meet her icy gaze – not even the emperor dared to turn towards (y/n). It was a wise decision, for the sake of all their lives, knowing that she could rob their soul and their last breath even without any weapons on her. 

It had only been a few minutes since they had been taken prisoner, and while (y/n) could have easily fought her way out of the tight grasp, she hadn’t been able to move. Frozen to her spot as she had never been before, unable to move as her eyes followed the frame of the Muad’Dib. Paul Atreides. Her brother. The man she had believed to be dead for endless weeks. The prophet who hadn’t spotted her in the small crowd. 

Not even Feyd-Rautha’s closeness had managed to rile her up at that moment, the man she had been forced to marry, the man she hadn’t allowed to touch her, not even on their wedding night. It hadn’t taken him long to accept that she’d cut off his hands should he touch her, speaking lies to the Baron to answer private questions that had left (y/n)’s insides churning. Feyd had protected her even when she went against a simple contract, lured closer by the darkness she carried deep within herself. 

She had made too many sacrifices for her brother and their mother’s lies, tossed away for a strategic marriage she hadn’t been prepared for. All to mourn her brother who was still alive and breathing, guiding those who saw the prophet in him.

“You’re quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, wife.” Feyd’s breath teased her neck, he stood with his armoured front pressed against her back, hands resting on her waist. It was a dangerous game, a game she didn’t buy into, too focused on her racing mind. Feyd gave (y/n) another moment to push him away, just like she had always done – but she didn’t, she kept herself pressed against him as if he was an anchor saving her from drowning. “What are you planning?”

“How I will kill the Muad’Dib.” Not one ounce of love thumped through her veins, an emotion she had once held onto, at least for her older brother; a love that had frozen in her system the second she had heard his voice ring in her ears minutes ago. Feyd’s raspy chuckles left her skin tingling, adding fuel to the fire simmering deep inside of her. 

For a moment, (y/n) allowed herself to focus on her husband’s touch, how he held onto her, tight enough to send a clear message to wandering eyes. He may have not claimed her behind closed doors, addicted to their game of back-and-forth, but to all those eyes, she was his as he was hers, a ruthless husband to a cunning wife. 

“You know, I am always excited for a fight.” She wanted to reply, wanted to tease him for fighting against drugged prisoners who never stood a chance against him, but the second his cold lips met her throat, her words were lost on her sharp tongue. Her heart roared in her chest, not used to being kissed by Feyd, not after their first and only kiss in front of their wedding guests. 

“You won’t fight. This is between my brother and me.” (Y/n) turned in Feyd’s grasp, letting her eyes wander over her husband’s features. He was handsome, she had always been drawn to him, and yet something had always held her back – the fear of being tied down by a man who perfectly matched her ruthless ways, a man who would rather kill himself than back down from a fight, just like (y/n). They were too similar, a scary realisation she had been forced to face many moons ago. 

“I will let you fight, wife, but for that, I get to claim you tonight.” The mischief twinkling in his bright pupils pushed anger through her, anger clashing against lust. Her mind didn’t get to interfere as (y/n) shifted her weight onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She pulled away before Feyd could deepen the kiss, heart roaring in her chest as if it was communicating with his. 

“You’ll have to lick my brother’s blood off me before you get to touch me.” Her words were meant as a warning, a warning Feyd clearly found enjoyment in. And with his raspy laugh echoing through the room, she found herself thrown back into her darkening mindset, preparing for a fight against her brother. 

……

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me?” Paul’s voice filled the room. She didn’t see much of his frame, standing behind Feyd to shield herself from her brother’s and her mother’s eyes. She hated the way her fingers trembled, urged on by her anger, by her sadness, emotions flushing through her like poison set to kill her. “They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think? I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis.”

She wanted to shoot forward, wanted to throw herself against her brother’s frame to force him to his knees. But the hand Feyd pressed against her stomach to hold her back was enough to stay glued to her spot. The time wasn’t right just yet. 

“Gurney, send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields.” Paul’s words left most of the people surrounding (y/n) tensing, words that were about to force a laugh out of her. She could feel and see her mother’s influence on Paul, forming him into the son she had always dreamt him to be. 

“You’re out of your mind.” The Emperor’s slightly trembling voice drew a smirk to both (y/n) and Feyd’s lips, they got a taste of the chaos soon unfolding in front of them, drawing a sick sense of satisfaction and anticipation through the couple. 

“He’s bluffing.” She couldn’t stop a soft laugh from leaving her at her husband’s words, urged on by the need to stand even closer. Her body was guiding her without giving her mind a chance to protest as her hand found Feyd’s. She was still covered by his tall frame, and yet she felt him freezing for just a second as she interlaced their hands. 

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides.” Within seconds, the voice filled their ears, forcing the Reverend Mother to lose her balance. No longer could (y/n) focus on the exchange between Paul and the Emperor, no longer could she focus on Feyd whose hand she had dropped once again. (Y/n) knew that the time was finally right, it was now or never, a fight that would end with either her’s or her brother’s life on the line.

“Stand or choose your champion.” Those were the words that ripped (y/n) out of her trance, pushing past her husband. She didn’t see how Feyd’s fingers twitched, having to stop himself from reaching for her, to stop (y/n) from fighting a battle he had been destined for. 

“I’m here, Paul.” (Y/n) spoke the words with venom dripping from her voice, watching her brother’s bright pupils widen. From the corner of her eye, she could watch her mother shoot to her feet, and yet (y/n) didn’t dare let her gaze wander, enjoying the realisation that began to widen on her brother’s panicked features. “I need a blade.” 

“Accept mine.” She didn’t rip her eyes from her brother’s to look at the Emperor, seizing the chance to read Paul well enough to tell her that he fought an inner battle. Paul whispered her name as he slightly shook his head, begging his sister to step away. Her tongue kissed her teeth as a blood-curdling smile widened on her lips, she didn’t need to speak up to tell Paul that she’d try everything she could to kill him, a simple act of revenge for leaving her, for forgetting her, for playing her. 

With a slow nod thrown her way, seemingly accepting her will to fight, Paul turned from (y/n) to walk back towards his people. Only Feyd’s hand on her waist managed to rip her gaze from her brother’s frame, “Make me proud wife. Kill him.” 

Feyd squeezed her waist as he pressed a harsh kiss to her lips, a clear signal for all those who were watching their interaction. He’d kill them all should she die, avenge her death as if it was his own life they tried to take. Without speaking another word, (y/n) pushed Feyd away from her, she tightened her grip on the Emperor’s blade, and let her feet carry her towards her brother. 

“(Y/n),” Paul’s choked-up voice drew a humourless chuckle out of her. For a moment, she allowed her gaze to stray, to look at their pregnant mother and the unreadable expression she wore. (Y/n) had never been the favourite child, even though she was the girl Jessica had been asked to birth. She had always been too ruthless, too cold, too cunning for their family, the outcast who had been married to Feyd at the first given chance. 

“Say it.” (Y/n)’s words were venomous, spat at her brother whose pained expression made him appear even more pathetic in her eyes. She wanted Paul to speak the words, words the siblings had spoken as mere children whenever they challenged one another into a play fight. Paul kept quiet, unable to part his lips until she almost screamed her words, “Say it!”

“May thy knife chip and shatter.” Paul’s voice trembled as he spoke the words, momentarily closing his eyes as if he struggled to accept their fate, to accept that he was expected to kill his beloved sister, unable to back down from a fight like this. She repeated the words much slower than Paul had, with a dangerous smile tugging on her lips – no longer did (y/n) care about her own life, about the mere chance of dying in her brother’s arms. She was hungry for revenge, to make him feel the pain she had been forced to carry deep within herself these past weeks. 

And then everything began to blur, one attack after another, one strike after another, one stumble after another. She felt all their eyes on them as they fought, but (y/n) couldn’t give into the temptation to study the crowd, searching for Feyd’s eyes that were glistening with adoration for his wife. A woman fighting like a snake, slithering along Paul’s body to squeeze him to death. 

Only as Paul’s knife cut (y/n)’s skin for the first time did her world begin to slow down, momentarily stopping its spinning motion. Paul seemed to freeze just like she did, focusing on the blood pouring from the wound. Perhaps he expected her to back down, to leave the circle to search for her husband’s protection. But (y/n) did something she had studied her husband do one too many times: Her fingers found her wound, picking up the drops of blood to suck her fingers clean, high on the coppery taste. Feyd’s laughter rang in her ears as she attacked her brother once again, faster this time, even more ruthless than the rounds before.

With blood sticking to her lips, (y/n) and Paul kept circling one another – all until she seized her chance to ram her knife into his side. Paul’s gasp forced their mother to her feet once again, searching her daughter’s eyes to shake her head, a silent warning not to kill her brother, a silent gesture that they wouldn’t mourn her death, only Paul’s. But while her mother’s eyes carried a clear warning, Feyd’s carried encouragement, asking his wife to end this right there and then. 

A moment of distraction that gave her brother the chance to slice his blade through her skin, forcing it to nestle inside her stomach. Both siblings held onto one another, glassy eyes finding back together as neither loosened their grip. 

“Do it, kill me. Feel the pain you’ve forced me to feel, feel the grief that has almost killed me.” Tears dripped from (y/n)’s eyes as she choked on her blood, knowing that she’d pass out any moment now. And even though she felt the darkness creeping through her veins, telling her that it was time to bid this life goodbye, a smile began to widen on her lips. 

This was the moment she had imagined all these weeks, it was finally upon them. 

Slowly Paul sacked to the ground with (y/n) clinging to him, holding onto her as he lifted his teary gaze. She didn’t see the way her brother's panicked gaze looked around the room, didn’t see the way his eyes found Feyd’s rage-filled ones, luring her husband closer. All she could focus on were the tears dripping from Paul’s bright eyes, holding back his sobs as Feyd kneeled next to them. 

“Do whatever you must, save my sister.” 

……

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open. It took her a moment to focus on her surroundings, the grey walls, the dim light, and the figure standing close to her bed. Pain shot through her as she tried to move, forced to plop back down onto the mattress with a curse clawing through her.

“You’re finally awake.” Feyd’s raspy voice drew a whimper from (y/n)’s chapped lips, eyes momentarily fluttering close to try and remind herself of what had happened. “You almost died, killed by your foolish brother who has never fought fair before. I should have killed him for hurting you.” 

“Come here.” (Y/n) ignored her husband’s words, not daring to think of her brother, of their fight, and of the blood she had lost. Wordlessly, Feyd came to a halt next to her, staring down at her to wait for (y/n)’s next command. With another gasp roaring through her, she shuffled around on the bed, making space for her husband to lay next to her. “If you tell others of this I will kill you.”

His chuckles filled the room as he carefully placed himself next to her. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, giving the married couple a chance to be close to one another for the first time, without any eyes on them, without hatred urging words to leave their cold lips. 

Feyd’s hand slightly trembled as he reached for her no longer bloody fingers, slowly interlacing them. Never had he done this before, reaching for her without any further message to communicate, holding onto her for the mere chance to be close to her. 

“What happened to Paul?” Pain clawed through her at the thought of her brother. Anger had forced her to act, anger she hadn’t been able to swallow until now, unsure how to accept that her family had lied to her. 

“Don’t worry about him for now.” Feyd didn’t tell her how he had left the planet with her, how he had brought her away from that place. Feyd didn’t tell her how he had sworn to Paul that he’d avenge (y/n)’s death should she die. Feyd didn’t tell her how Paul had told others to let them go, not knowing where Feyd was taking (y/n), not knowing if he’d ever see his sister again. 

And at that very moment, (y/n) didn’t find the strength to ask another question, the strength she would regain soon enough to find her path back to her cunning self, set on ending the ruleless game between her and her family. 

…… 

“Fight like a Harkonnen for fuck’s sake!” Anger pushed her words past her clenched teeth. Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead as she stared at her husband with spite swimming in her pupils. She knew Feyd was holding back, not trusting that (y/n) had regained her full strength just yet, the strength she’d need to force him to his knees in a training session like this. 

“Wife.” It was a warning he spoke, a warning not to rile him up even further, knowing that he’d lose his patience soon enough. (Y/n) darted at her husband, her body collided with his to throw them both to the ground. She straddled his waist with a grim expression tugging on her features, knowing that in any other scenario, she wouldn’t have been able to attack Feyd like that. “Fine, this is your own fault, darling.”

Feyd harshly pushed her off him, momentarily robbing his wife of her breath as her back collided with the cold ground. He rose to his feet with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists – the version of her husband (y/n) desperately had tried to trigger. They circled one another, holding onto their blades with twitching fingers, set on regaining the upper hand.

Now it was on Feyd to attack first, his blade met hers over and over again, until he cut her cheek, drawing a hiss out of (y/n). She was heavily panting as he chuckled, bringing the bloody tip of his blade up to his pale lips to lick it clean, moaning at the taste of her blood. 

Something began to shift at that moment, something that forced her to drop her blade, to throw herself into his grasp and to kiss him. Both fell back to the ground, allowing Feyd to cage her between the floor and his frame. His hand found her throat to keep her pinned down beneath him, all while their tongues fought for victory. 

(Y/n) tightened her legs' grasp around his waist to pull him even closer, moaning at the way he ground his hips against hers, making her feel his hardening cock straining against his tight trousers. Everything about this moment was new to her, unsure of where to go from there without any experience guiding her, not knowing how to touch her husband. And yet, everything seemed to come almost naturally to her, trusting her body and Feyd to push her through the soaring waves of heat filling her trembling body.

“I should have fucked you months ago. You had your chance, but now I won’t be gentle with you, I will fuck you as a woman like you deserves to be fucked.” His words shot heat straight to her core, words that forced her to hold still as Feyd kept manhandling her, cutting her shirt open with his blade. The groan that left him at the sight of her naked chest made (y/nn) back arch, desperate to feel his hands on her. “I should tie you up, keep you as my toy to claim whenever I am hungry for you. I bet you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“I hate you!” It was nothing but a lie, a lie both easily saw through, but at that very moment neither Feyd nor (y/n) cared about pleasantries, urged on by their desires. He cut open her trousers before another curse could leave her, exposing her arousal-covered folds to his darkening eyes. Tonight he’d litter her in bruises. Tonight he’d force her to follow his rules. Tonight he’d show her his most ruthless side. 

“Hate me all you want, wife, your body still craves the touch of your husband. You’re dripping for me.” He didn’t warn her before he plunged two fingers into her tightness, feeling her walls flutter around his digits. Feyd held eye contact with her as he spat on her cunt, rubbing his saliva against her pulsing bundle. (Y/n)’s moans rang in his ears, urging him on as if he was high on spice, blurring out their surroundings, blurring out the calmness they were now disturbing. “I can’t wait to rip you open with my cock, make you feel pain you won’t ever forget.” 

Her mind was silenced, fogged up by the lust thumping through her veins. Feyd fucked her with his fingers, he pushed her closer to the high she had only allowed herself to feel whenever she had been desperate for his touch but too proud to search his closeness. But her body wasn’t ready to give up the chase just yet. Her hand found her blade, moving without gaining Feyd’s attention, who was still fully focused on her cunt.

With quick movements, she brought the tip of her blade to his throat, stopping him in his movements. The chuckle leaving Feyd left her smirking, looking even more psychotic with the blood still dripping from the cut on her cheek. She barely put up a fight as Feyd ripped the blade from her hand, as he shifted them around to bring her to her knees and up against his front. 

The blade teased her throat as he held her to him, even as he freed his aching cock, ready to disappear deep inside of her, “You had your chance, I would have prepared you for my cock, would have given you time to adjust. But that kindness is no longer among us. Now you’ll take my cock like my own personal whore.” 

He forced his cock into her cunt, groaning at the tightness engulfing him. Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of lust, of pain, of desperation – finding an unfamiliar sense of enjoyment in Feyd’s rough touches. His name rolled off her tongue as he fucked into her from behind, dropping the knife to choke her with his cold hands once again. 

Feyd was treating her like his pet, treating her like he had been raised to treat women – momentarily forgetting about the love he fostered deep inside of him. And she loved every second of it, finally able to give up control for the first time. 

“It brings me great pleasure knowing that no other man will ever get to have you like this. Your body is mine, you’re my whore, you only listen to my commands. And you will kill whoever dares to touch you should I not be fast enough to do it myself.” His words left her choking, forced to claw her fingernails into his pale skin as her mind began to race. Even though the words didn’t sound like it, it was the most sincere love confession Feyd had ever spoken, words that cut deeper than any blade ever would. 

“Feyd.” She whimpered his name as his free hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push her towards the edge. The first of many orgasms was awaiting her, set on ripping her from this place into another dimension, led by her husband. (Y/n) felt his black teeth run along her neck, biting the spot where her neck met her shoulders, close to drawing some more blood from her weeping body. 

She came without another word clawing through her, calling out his name as her orgasm momentarily robbed her of her vision. Feyd kept a strong hold on her throat, his hips kept meeting her behind, forcing his cock further into her clenched tightness. He gave it a few more thrusts before he pulled out of her and rose to his feet. 

With his hand finding her hair, he forced her towards him, making her scalp burn from the strength of his touch. His cock was shoved past her parted lips, letting (y/n) taste herself on his cock as he fucked her mouth. The corners of her mouth began to burn within a few moments, once again making tears fall from her glassy eyes. 

She had never seen her husband like this, trembling for her, with his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, fully focused on the pleasure thumping through her. No longer did she feel the need to fight, no longer did her fingertips ache for the feeling of her blade, no, for the first time since knowing Feyd, she wanted to give her everything to satisfy the man. 

“You’ll swallow every drop of my seed, and then you’ll lick me clean.” It was a simple command, a command that left her moaning around his cock. Feyd came within a few more seconds, releasing himself down her throat and on her eager tongue. The two held eye contact as she swallowed, as she ran her tongue up and down his twitching length, following his every command. 

“Where are you going, wife?” She froze in her movements, her heavily panting self had turned from him, set on plopping down on the ground to catch her breath. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were drawn back to his like spice forced up into the air, following the wind’s call. “That was only the beginning. I won’t be done with you for a while.”

[pulisicsgirl]

christmas on my own - mason mount

summary: when Y/N finds herself spending Christmas alone for the first time in her life, a chance encounter with Mason may prove to be just the cure she needed for her holiday blues

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 6.3k

warnings/tags: semi-established relationship, the tiniest bit of angst at the beginning but overwhelming fluff for the rest of it, Christmas celebrations, awkward encounters with meeting the family for the first time

requested: no

notes: surprise!! Please ignore the fact that it's been three months since I last posted a fic. Life has been coming at me pretty fast this year, and it's made it incredibly difficult for me to find the time or motivation to write. But I've been thinking about and planning this one since almost October, so I wanted to be sure I was able to put this out as a little Christmas gift for you all!! Thank you for being so patient with my inconsistent posting schedule this year, and I hope you're all able to enjoy some time with your loved ones this holiday season! Also I know that Mila is still a baby, but for the sake of the fic, please pretend she's a toddler Merry Christmas to all of you, my loves!!

You blew hot air into your clenched fists in an attempt to warm them as you stood in the small Manchester café. The biting cold of the outdoors was still making your fingertips ache as you lingered near the counter, long after you had finished placing your order and paying.

You briefly surveyed the somewhat empty café, admiring the glowing lights and cheerful decorations that the owners had put out for the holiday season. A few sets of what you assumed to be grandparents and their grandchildren were also waiting alongside you, some of the children pressing their faces up against the glass display case as they relayed which pastries and treats they wanted to take home with them.

Today was the first Christmas that you had ever spent alone, and seeing the families happy and smiling together made your heart ache a bit, longing for your childhood when the season still felt magical and joyous.

To say that it had stung when your parents told you they would be travelling to spend the holiday with your brother would be an understatement. It had been unexpected, and they had only given you a little less than a week’s notice, meaning that as you were expected to work both the day before and after Christmas, you didn’t have enough time to make arrangements to go on the trip with them. You knew that your parents missed your brother as he had moved away a couple of years ago, and you understood why they would want to go see him and his wife that he had recently married. But it was hard to get left behind to spend the holiday that’s all about being together and giving to one another alone.

So now, on the afternoon of Christmas, you found yourself standing in a small bakery in Manchester, the very one that your family would always stop by on Christmas Day to get a few smalls treats to take back home after you had opened all of your gifts.

You had spent the morning at home, watching a couple Christmas films to try to put yourself in a festive mood and generally just feeling sorry for yourself. You had tried your best not to just mope about all day, but it proved difficult. By the time the afternoon rolled around, you decided that it just didn’t feel right to not make your annual trip to the bakery, even if it would be by yourself this year. So you had dragged yourself out of bed, put on a nice sweater and some black leggings and styled your hair a bit in the hopes of making yourself feel better, and decided to walk to the bakery in order to get a bit of fresh air.

You were lost in your own thoughts, fantasizing about the sweet taste of the coffee and pastry that would surely be coming your way soon when the bell above the entrance rang out. Your eyes naturally jumped over to the door to see where the noise was coming from, and your stomach sank to your feet when you saw who had stepped in.

It was Mason.

You and Mason had been going out for the last few weeks—not long enough to put an official label on it, but long enough that the two of you had gotten to know each other better and knew that you were both serious about this.

You had no idea what he was doing at the small bakery, but the last thing you wanted was for him to find out how pitiful you were, spending Christmas at home, alone on your couch.

Your hand darted up, scratching the side of your head in an attempt to hide your face from him as he approached the register only 10 feet away from you. Hoping that was enough to make sure he wouldn’t see you, your heart began to race as you realized that the worker would be calling out your name when your order was ready, and there would surely be no escape then.

You were beginning to contemplate the possibility of just leaving without the items you had paid for when his soft voice cut through your thoughts, thwarting any plans you’d had to run.

“Y/N?” he asked sweetly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Fancy seeing you here! Happy Christmas!”

You glanced up at him, his eyes bright as you tried to feign surprise at the sight of him.

“Mason, hi!” He drew you into a quick embrace, his scent surrounding you almost immediately. “Happy Christmas!” you mumbled into his chest before he released you.

“W-What are you doing here?” you rushed to ask, hoping to avoid any questions about your holiday celebrations.

“I’m actually on my way back home from training,” he spoke, scratching the back of his neck.

“Training? On Christmas?” you exclaimed. “That’s cruel!”

He laughed shortly, nodding along as he spoke. “I know, but we actually have a match tomorrow, so they couldn’t afford us a day off, unfortunately.” He shrugged, seeming like his cheery mood hadn’t been too phased by the interruption from his job. “But anyway, my family all came to mine for the holidays, and my nieces insisted I bring back a treat for them when I came home. I remembered you had mentioned this place, so I thought I should give it a try.”

Your heart fluttered at his mention of your conversation from a couple weeks ago. You had told him about the tradition in passing on a date when he had asked about how you and your family usually celebrated Christmas, and the fact that he had even remembered that detail meant the world to you.

“Oh, that’s so lovely that they were all still able to come up to celebrate with you,” you smiled at him.

“Yeah, they all arrived yesterday, and we did stockings this morning, but I’m sure my nieces are itching for me to get home so they can open the rest of their presents.”

Your chest felt warm at the way he always spoke about his family—especially his young nieces. Anyone could see from a mile off that he loved them all dearly.

“Are they going to be able to stay long?”

“They’ll be here for a couple of days, actually! Gonna be able to go to the game tomorrow as well, so I’m really excited to be able to have them there.” His grin spread nearly from ear to ear, the crinkles by his eyes becoming more pronounced. “But what about you? I’m assuming you’re here picking up the traditional Christmas pastries?”

Your heart sank, trying to find a way around the fact that you were alone for the holidays. You didn’t want him to pity you or to feel bad for expressing his joy over having his family with him. “Well, actually, I—um—”

“Y/N!” one of the bakery’s employees called out, placing a small to-go cup of coffee and a single, wrapped pastry on the counter. Your head dipped low, you walked over to the counter, picking up your order and quietly thanking the employee before you turned to walk back over to Mason. The look of confusion was unmistakable on his face as he looked at the single pastry in your hands, rather than the bulk order of treats that you had told him about weeks prior.

“My… parents actually went to visit my brother for the holidays,” you spoke quietly, having to force each word of your admission out. “So the order’s just for me today.” You forced a smile onto your face, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been on your own today,” Mason spoke, and you rushed to assure him that you were fine.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s—”

“Y/N, there’s no use in that. We have plenty of food and space at mine! You should’ve said something!”

“I—what?” His response caught you completely off-guard, not at all what you had expected him to say.

“Come over! We’d love to have you!” A huge smile spread across his face as he spoke to you. “There’s no reason for you to spend the holidays alone.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you immediately began trying to track back, but he didn’t seem at all discouraged by your protest. “I wouldn’t want to impose, and—”

“You’re not imposing, I’m inviting you,” he stated, matter-of-factly, as if it was just a simple matter. “My family would love to have you, and my nieces will be overjoyed to have someone new around!”

You were stumbling over your words, unable to fight against his persistence. “But… But I…”

“Look, we don’t have to say anything about us at all,” Mason said, sensing your resolve crumbling bit by bit. “You don’t have to meet my family as the girl that I’m dating, I’ll just introduce you as a friend. It’ll be completely fine.”

You bit your lip as you searched his face for any sign of hesitation. You couldn’t deny that the idea of joining in his family’s festivities did lift your spirits a little bit. The idea of being gathered around a Christmas tree and watching everyone opening gifts, maybe wrapped up in a warm blanket as you shared laughs with the others.

The final nail in the coffin for you was thinking about going back to your dreary apartment with the half-hearted decorations and spending the rest of the day by yourself.

“Please?” Mason pleaded with you one last time, his eyebrows raised as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes to convince you.

“You’re sure no one will mind?”

“I’m positive. My mum would be more upset with me if she found out I knew you were spending Christmas alone and didn’t bring you home.” The grin resumed its place on his lips as soon as you agreed, Mason bouncing slightly on his toes in giddy excitement.

Just at that moment, a voice rang out, calling Mason’s name, signaling that his order was ready to go. He quickly moved to the counter, scooping up the rather large box of pastries and holding it in one hand while he grabbed yours with the other and nearly dragged you out of the door of the bakery. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips at his almost child-like glee at your agreement to join his family for the rest of their Christmas celebrations.

“Alright, you want to just follow me there?” he asked as the two of you strode into the parking lot. You had been to his place once before for a movie night, but he wanted to be certain you got there safely and didn’t lose your way.

“I actually walked here from my apartment, so would you mind if I just rode with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course, love.” The pet name slipped out without him even thinking about it as he led you to the passenger side of his car, opening the door for you. Testing his luck a bit, Mason pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head as you stepped past him to get into the car, and you felt the heat rushing into your cheeks as he closed the door behind you.

He popped in the driver’s seat, starting the engine and turning the radio onto some station playing nonstop Christmas music, and the two of you were off, heading in the direction of his home.

You were thankful that his house was a little while away as it gave you time to collect yourself before walking into a room full of Mason’s closest family members. You thanked your lucky stars that you had gotten to urge to dress at least a little bit nice before leaving your apartment that morning so that you’d be presentable for meeting them.

After all, even if he introduced you to them as his friend this time around, if things with Mason went the way you hoped they would, you’d be seeing them many times again in the future, and you wanted to make a good first impression. 

The drive to his house was comfortable. The moments of silence were peaceful and never tense. The two of you caught up a bit since you hadn’t seen each other for a few days, and you tried your best not to think too hard about the nerve-wracking evening ahead of you. Mason kept glancing over at your bouncing knee—he could tell that you were nervous, and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to hold your hand.

So, in a moment of bravery, you reached over, bringing his free hand into your lap and intertwining your fingers. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the slight blush that crept up his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose as he began stroking his thumb across your knuckles, back and forth in a soothing motion.

Sooner than you were prepared for, Mason turned into the long driveway that wound back to his house, and you swallowed a nervous lump as his house came into view.

“You’re sure this is okay?” you asked as he put the car in park and turned off the engine, still somewhat nervous about intruding on their family holiday.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Mason held your face in both of his hands for a moment, trying to reassure you to the best of his ability. “My mum loves hosting new people, so she’s gonna be super excited when I bring you in there!”

Something about the way he said that made your ears perk up. “Wait, Mason—Mason!” you exclaimed as he quickly got out of the driver’s seat. You threw open your door, leaping to your feet despite the fact that Mason was on his way around to your side to open the door for you. “Did you not at least text them to let them know I was coming with you?” you asked, exasperated.

Mason shrugged as if he didn’t see what the big deal was, shaking his head ‘no.’

“Mason! I can’t just—”

He cut you off by pressing his finger to your lips, gently shushing you. “Hey, trust me,” he looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s okay,” he said slowly.

Your shoulders slumped slightly, resigning yourself to him as you whispered a soft “okay.”

He tapped the tip of your nose and a quiet giggle escaped from your lips. You hated and loved how this boy could turn you into complete mush in mere moments. It made you feel so giddy but also so vulnerable at the same time, and it was a feeling you were still getting used to.

He held onto the car door, letting you step out from behind it before closing it and gestured for you to head toward his front door once he had retrieved the box of pastries from his back seat. He reassured you of his presence just behind you with his hand placed gently on the small of your back.

You hesitated at the front door, letting out a shuddery breath.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. Don’t freak yourself out, okay?” Mason spoke as if he had been able to read your mind, sneaking one final kiss to your forehead before stepping toward the door and reaching for the doorknob. Even though you hadn’t been seeing each other for very long, you noticed how Mason couldn’t seem to help himself from those small touches—the little gestures of reassurance like the forehead kisses, a hand on your back, and gentle touch on your knee—and it kind of surprised you how much they settled you, as you had never been big on copious amounts of physical touch in your past relationships.

Mason stepped through the doorway into his home, and you followed behind him, doing your best to still your racing heart.

It was only seconds after the sound of the door opening could be heard within the house that you hear the sound of tiny feet slapping on the floor, heading in your direction. Moments later, two little girls rounded the corner and came bolting toward you and Mason as he closed the door behind the two of you, the air filled with their squeals and giggles.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” they screamed, wrapping their arms around each of his legs. Mason immediately matched their energy, clearly just as excited to be coming home to them as he squeezed them close to his body with his free hand. You took the box of pastries from him so that he could bend down, scooping them both up in his arms and pressing kisses all over their faces. The girls giggled and screamed as he told them how much he had missed them between kisses.

Mason finally pulled back after one final, dramatic kiss that had the older of the two wiping at her cheek and she laughed at him. If you had thought the way Mason spoke about his nieces was sweet, it was nothing compared to the way he acted around them.

“Summer, Mila, this is Y/N,” Mason spoke once the girls’ giggles had quieted.

“Is she your wife?” the older girl asked, and your mouth dropped open in shock.

Mason, clearly amused by her question, threw his head back and laughed. “No, Summer. Y/N is just my friend.”

“Oh, okay,” Summer shrugged, quickly moving on from the conversation, wiggling so that Mason would set her back on the floor. Immediately she took off, running out of sight and Mason followed behind her with Mila still in his arms.

Voices could be heard coming from the kitchen, and you remained just behind Mason as you followed him, hoping that his body would shield you from the rest of his family.

When you found the others, you first saw Summer crawling up into one of the tall chairs at the kitchen bar, surrounded by numerous others. Perfectly-shaped gingerbread cookies lined the countertop, placed on sheets of wax paper, and bags of differently-colored icing were strewn around the countertop, along with various shapes and sizes of sprinkles. Cheerful Christmas music was ringing out through the room, and a warm feeling spread through your chest at the sight of it all.

Several of Mason’s family members greeted him as soon as the three of you entered the spacious kitchen, happy to see him back home from training.

Mason wasted no time in bringing you around to his side with a gentle hand between your shoulders before he let his hand fall to his side, not wanting to make you feel self-conscious in front of his family.

“Guys, this is my friend, Y/N,” Mason smiled at you reassuringly. “She’s gonna be joining us for the rest of the day.”

His introduction irked you slightly, wanting to give more of an explanation for why you were crashing their holiday when Summer piped up from where she was very focused on decorating her gingerbread man. “And she’s not Uncle Masey’s wife.”

A chorus of laughs rang through the room, and you felt your cheeks heat up, forcing a laugh to try to play off the fact that you felt like you were about to pee your pants.

A woman who you could only assume was Mason’s mother wiped her hands off on a dish towel, walking in your direction with open arms.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you, Y/N! I’m Debbie—Mason’s mum,” she spoke, confirming your guess. Mason quickly snatched the box of pastries from you so your hands were free and Debbie pulled you into a tight embrace—it was one of those hugs where you felt every muscle in your body relax a bit, and immediately you felt a little bit more settled in the unfamiliar environment.

“Thank you so much for having me.” You felt a bit silly, thanking her for being willing to do something she hadn’t even really agreed to in the first place.

“No, no, it’s nothing!” Debbie pulled back from the hug, waving her hand at you before she led you further into the kitchen, beginning to introduce you to everyone.  You met Mason’s father, Tony, who had greeted you with the same warm embrace that Debbie had, and then she introduced you to Mason’s brother, Lewis, and his sister Jaz and her husband before repeating the young girls’ names to you. Everyone had greeted you cheerfully, not even blinking an eye at the fact that Mason had brought a stranger home to join their Christmas celebration.

It wasn’t long before Debbie had you set up with your own sheet of wax paper and a cookie to decorate. You caught Mason’s eye, a sweet smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that said I told you so.

You were surprised at how easy it was to settle in with Mason’s family. You had never been someone that was good at meeting new people, and it typically took you a while to warm up to them. But Mason’s family wasted no time in treating you as one of their own, and it almost felt natural to be there with them within minutes.

Playful banter was exchanged, Summer and Mila were shouting for everyone to look at their sprinkle-covered cookies, and everyone was laughing. Mason settled into his spot next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

Mason’s family asked a little bit about yourself, but they kept the questions light, and you were thankful that they didn’t try to dig into why Mason had brought you home.

Once all the cookies had been decorated, the girls began shouting that it was time to open presents and Jaz had to wrestle them into wiping their hands and faces clean of icing before they took off, sprinting in the direction of the living room.

Once everyone had settled in the living room, some on the couch, some sitting on the floor, Tony donned a large Santa hat and beard before he began to distribute the gifts that were under and around the tree. You had kicked your shoes off by the door and tucked your legs up under you as you settled into the cushions next to Mason, a respectable amount of space still between you as you still didn’t really know how to handle yourselves around his family.

Each person opened their presents as Tony handed them out, one by one, and everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed as each gift was uncovered. Debbie and Jaz were taking lots of photos of everyone as they tore into their gifts. Your heart swelled at the thoughtful gifts that were exchanged. It became quickly apparent that remembering small details about the things people said was something that Mason had gotten from his family.

Mason kept silently checking in on you, glancing over to make sure you doing okay. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face, glancing over and making eye contact with him before shooting him an assuring smile.

By the time all of the presents were open and the wrapping paper and ribbons had been collected and put into trash bags, it was nearing dinner time and Debbie disappeared back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the food. You sprang to your feet, naturally wanting to help her as a thank you for having you as a guest (despite her insistence that you didn’t need to), and Jaz joined the two of you soon after.

Conversation flowed naturally between the three of you, and you felt completely at ease talking with them as you worked to finish the finals bits of the Christmas dinner, most of it having been prepared before and very little needing to be done to finish it.

The fated question finally came up as the three of you were carrying everything to the table.

“So, Y/N, I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve got to ask.” Your heart leapt immediately at Debbie’s words. “Are you and Mason only friends, or is there something more going on there?”

You pondered for a moment how to answer her question. At the beginning of the day, you would never have dreamed of admitting the nature of your relationship with Mason to his mother. But now, after the time you had spent with him, you settled on telling her the truth. You knew you were serious about the budding relationship between the two of you, and you knew he was, too. Though you hadn’t officially put any labels on it, having decided to take things slow, you had started being more open about it with your circle of friends.

“Well, I… we’ve… gone on a few dates,” you started, and a pleased smile took over Debbie’s face. “We’re taking things slow, but he’s been an absolute gentleman and he’s been nothing short of amazing to me.”

Debbie beamed with pride at your words. “Well, I didn’t raise him to be anything less than that, so I’m glad to hear it.”

“We haven’t been going out for very long, and I really wasn’t planning on crashing your family’s Christmas today,” you felt the need to explain yourself, now that you were putting all of your cards on the table. “My family… they actually are out of town visiting my brother this holiday season, and I happened to run into Mason at the bakery this afternoon. As soon as he found out I was spending Christmas on my own, he insisted I come back here with him, and he was not taking no for an answer,” you chuckled at the recent memory.

“Oh, love,” Debbie’s face held a slight pout as she instantly read the sadness that you tried to hide over not spending the holiday with your family. She pulled you into another of her amazing hugs, placing a quick kiss on your cheek as she drew away. “Well I speak for everyone when I say we’ve loved having you here with us.”

Your mind flashed back to how unphased everyone had been by your arrival. “Does Mason do this a lot? Picking up strays for the holidays?” you tried to play off your question with a laugh, momentarily wondering if you were just another girl on a long list.

Debbie shook her head. “No, he’s never done anything like this before. And he’s certainly never brought a girl home for something like this,” she spoke, calming your nerves. You had felt a bit silly for asking in the first place, but her words soothed your fleeting insecurities. “But hopefully we can look forward to having you at many Christmases in the future,” she beamed, patting your cheek before she wandered back into the kitchen and refraining from prying any further.

You blew out a long breath that you didn’t even realize you had been holding, trying to wrap your head around the conversation you had just had—with a woman you had only met a few hours ago. And it wasn’t just some normal thing for Mason to bring girls home during the holidays, but everyone had just been that welcoming to you, despite showing up without warning. Your chest felt full, swelling with love for Mason and his family.

Debbie called the others to the table to eat, and you wandered in the direction of the living room, hoping to catch Mason for a moment before you joined the others. The rest of his family filtered out of the room, leaving you and Mason alone for the first time in the last few hours.

“You doing okay?” Mason asked, and you wordlessly wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and holding onto him tighter than you ever had before. Caught a bit off-guard by the affection, Mason wrapped his arms gently around your body, running his fingers up and down your spine.

His heart sank when you pulled your head back to look at him, arms still wrapped around his torso, and he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“What happened, love?! Did someone say something—”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

“For what, love?” Mason cradled your cheek in one of his hands, swiping his thumb under your eye to wipe away a tear. You noticed that he used the pet name more frequently when he was concerned.

“For bringing me here. For introducing me to your family. They’re amazing, Mason.”

A look of relief and adoration washed over Mason’s face and he smiled at you, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you let your eyes slip closed, allowing yourself to take a moment to yourselves and let your heart settle a bit.

“You know your mom asked me about us?” you broke the silence after a few seconds.

“Yeah?” he pulled back to look at your face, trying to gauge your reaction. “And what did you tell her?”

“The truth,” you gently shrugged your shoulders. “That we’ve gone out a few times and we’re taking things pretty slow, but that I think I’ll probably keep you around.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, and you nodded in response.

“Come on, we should probably head in there before Summer comes looking,” you pulled back, wiping away any stray tears with the sleeve of your sweater, hoping that no one would be able to tell how emotional you had just gotten.

The two of you joined the others at the table, taking your place between Mason and Summer after she had insisted you sit beside her, much to Mason’s fake offense. The food was incredible, as it had been a while since you’d had a big home-cooked meal like this, and you were sure to let Debbie know how much you enjoyed it. When everyone’s plates were empty, everyone took part in the freshly-decorated cookies and Mason and Lewis cleared the dishes, being sure to push you, Debbie, and Jaz toward the living room before any of you tried to help.

You were just returning from a quick trip to the bathroom when the boys walked back in from the kitchen, and you noticed everyone settling back down on the couch.

“We always watch a Christmas film after dinner, but I can take you home if you’re ready to leave,” Mason explained to you.

You thought over the offer for a moment, deciding you weren’t really ready to part from Mason and his family just yet.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind sticking around a little while longer—unless you guys were wanting it to be just a family thing,” you rushed to add, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

Your words were met with immediate protest from the rest of Mason’s family, each of them insisting that you stay, and Mason smiled down at you. “Yeah, what they said.”

You giggled, letting him lead you around to sit next to him on the couch, allowing yourself to sit a bit closer to him than you had earlier that afternoon.

Tony even offered for you to pick the film, but as soon as Summer had shouted her desire to watch Elf, you were all agreed.

Mason threw a fluffy blanket over both of your legs as the movie’s opening scene played. “Is this okay?” he whispered, trying not to draw anyone else’s attention and you nodded in return.

You tucked your legs under your body, allowing your knee to rest slightly on his thigh and your shoulder to lean onto his, now feeling more comfortable showing some affection around Mason’s family.

The movie played on, and your heart soared listening to Summer and Mila giggle and clap their hands at their favorite bits. You felt at home there with Mason and his family, all cozied up in his living room on the night of Christmas as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Your heart swelled with the love that you already felt for all of them, and though you knew it was still a bit soon, you couldn’t wait to get to know them and get to spend more time with them as your relationship with Mason developed.

As comfortable as you were and with all of the lights in the house turned off for the movie, you didn’t even realize your eyes were slipping closed until you jolted awake, recognizing the scene on the TV as one that was near to the end of the movie. Mason must have felt the sudden movement from where your head was resting on his shoulder, and he took your hand in his, running his thumbs over your knuckles to calm you, the same way he had done in the car earlier that day.

You nestled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the last few moments you had with Mason and his family before the movie ended.

It was over sooner than you would have liked, and everyone sat up from where they had sunk into the couch cushions, stretching and yawning. It was clear that everyone was exhausted from the day’s festivities. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, noticing Jaz and her husband quietly scooping up the girls from where they, too, had fallen asleep, and carried them down the hallway, seemingly to put them to bed.

“You ready to go home?” Mason asked you quietly as everyone began to rise from the couch. You nodded. “Okay, let me go grab my keys and we can head out.”

“Oh, Mason, I can just call an Uber or something, I don’t want to take you away from your family—”

“Absolutely not,” he cut you off. “You think I’m gonna let some stranger come pick you up and drive your back to your apartment?” You grinned at him, unable to find the words to answer him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His voice held an air of playful sarcasm.

Slowly, the two of you made your way to the front entrance. Everyone bade you goodbye as you made to leave. Debbie was sure to get a couple more hugs in before you left, insisting that you come around the next time they were up to visit, and you promised that you would.

Before long, you found yourself sitting in Mason’s car once again as he backed out into the street and set out on the route to your apartment. You were leaning across the center console of his car, leaning your head on his shoulder, and holding his free hand in yours.

You were feeling especially affectionate after the day you had, full of love for him and his family. The drive was silent as you listened to the music softly playing from his radio, no words needed to communicate to each other how you were feeling.

Before long, Mason pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and insisted upon walking you up to your door, like the gentleman he always was.

As you reached your door, you turned to face him, giggling at the cliché of it all as you wrapped your arms around his torso. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he beamed down at you.

“Was your Christmas okay, then? Even though you didn’t get to spend it the way you usually do?”

“Mason, it was wonderful,” you smiled up at him, feeling like there were no words that would do justice for how the day had made you feel. “It was better than I ever could have imagined. Thank you for bringing me home with you today. I was honestly feeling awful after spending the morning by myself and this was the best Christmas miracle I could’ve ever dreamed up.”

Mason squeezed you a little tighter, pleased that his impulsive decision at the bakery to invite you to his home had worked out. “I’m so glad you were there. I’m so glad you got to meet them.”

“I am, too. And I’m glad I got to share this day with you.” Your heart felt like it was overflowing, and you could barely hold yourself together.

You snaked one of your hands around the back of Mason’s neck, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him down to join your lips in a long but gentle kiss. It was the first one you had shared all day, as Mason had been waiting for you to initiate it first, but you couldn’t refrain from indulging yourself any longer. This was surely your favorite kiss that the two of you had shared, even more so than your first. It was so full of unspoken passion and love, and it left your head spinning when you finally pulled apart for air, foreheads still pressed together.

Mason couldn’t help but press two more quick pecks on your lips before finally pulling back to look at you. The two of you just smiled at each other for a moment, and you studied Mason’s features as you stood there.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Mason whispered, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Mason,” you replied. “Thank you for everything today.” Mason’s only response was a firm kiss on your forehead before he unwound his arms from your body, taking a couple of steps backward as he began heading back to his car.

You watched him walk down the hallway, glancing back at you with a wave before he rounded the corner, and you entered your apartment.

Closing your eyes and leaning against the closed door, you smiled to yourself. You may not have known Mason for long, but already, you were certain that this boy meant the absolute world to you, and his family had found their place securely in your heart.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @mm-vii @captainpulisic

[save-the-villainous-cat]

i uh may or may not have just binge-read through all of your writing over the past few days...it's so good!!!!!!! im screaming crying throwing up etc. 🥹🥹🥹 can i request: villain challenges hero to a game (could be a card game, chess, tug-of-war lol anything that you want!). the terms are if the villain wins then the hero steps aside and lets the villain carry out their evil plan without resistance. and at first the villain is super cocky because they think the hero is out of their element...but then the villain loses. >:)

Responding with the Sicilian Defense is usually seen as aggressive and the hero had to learn the hard way that this term perfectly described the villain’s play.

Their moves were calculated and anything but irrational. They attacked where they could and took piece after piece. It made the hero think of an unforgiving conquest as they struggled to protect their bishops and knights.

“You seem nervous,” the villain purred. They smiled to themselves when they moved a pawn to threaten the hero’s rook. “Which you should be. Your defense is laughable.” 

“I am sure it is,” the hero said, moving the rook quickly. “I usually play chess for fun and not with the pressure of thousands of lives on my shoulders.”

“Oh, come on. This is fun,” they said as they attacked the rook again. 

“Feels more like war.”

“Same difference.” The hero looked up at their opponent, raising their brows at the delusional impudence. At first, they had been surprised that the villain had chosen black. White always starts, so it was somewhat capable of controlling the start of the game. In the hero’s mind at least. 

But when the villain moved their pieces, they saw in the patterns that they used them to mock the hero. Hunting their queen across the board with their bishops, threatening them with pawns — black was answering white’s calls and it was to embarrass the hero. 

They swallowed. 

“I sometimes forget how violent you are,” the hero lied. They took the villain’s knight and lost a bishop. Definitely not ideal but sadly necessary to protect their queen. 

“You insult me, really,” the villain said. They hummed as their eyes went over the board with a wild interest the hero had never really seen before. The whole game entranced them, brought out a side of them foreign to the hero. 

The hero castled before the villain could check them. 

“Didn’t mean to,” the hero said. If you weren’t a criminal, the hero thought, if you weren’t like that, I would like to be your friend. It was a silly thought, a childish dream that was quite impossible to achieve. The villain was an interesting person but the distance put between them would never allow the hero to actually get to know their enemy. 

They didn’t like going into battle without knowing the one they were fighting but they were also aware of the dangers of understanding someone. Long ago, they had trusted people they shouldn’t, understood their motives, felt for them and if that happened with the the villain, they didn’t know if they could call themselves a hero after that. And yet…

“Oops,” the villain said, placing another piece.

It dawned on them too late, chatting too much and thinking about their relationships was throwing them off. The villain had cleverly put pressure on the hero’s queen and the hero hadn’t been able to defend her. They would have to sacrifice her. Shit, they couldn’t even trade. 

“She wasn’t my type anyway,” the hero said casually, shrugging as they put another pawn forward. The villain giggled and as stupid as it was, the hero liked that they’d made the villain laugh.

As they took their queen, the villain was as cheerful as a kid with a full supply of candies. However, that was the villain’s first mistake. 

In this exact moment, the hero became aware of their own slip-ups. They’d been so afraid of understanding the villain. They’d been so afraid that if they actually got to know them, they would end up miserably. 

The thing was, they already knew them. They knew them ever since their first move.

The battle across the board went on slowly, and concentrating more on the villain’s moves than their hands, the hero forced themselves to be careful with their pieces. One time, the villain commented on the hero’s pawn placement, saying it was adorable but the hero only nodded absentmindedly, slipping into offense instead of defense. 

Step by step, the board cleared and the villain found themselves with a knight and their last rook while the hero could only rely on their pawns. 

“You wanna give up? Would be less painful.” The hero was more confident than before, especially because they had stopped thinking about the villain and started thinking like the villain. 

They knew the villain would chase them across the board again. 

That was their second mistake. 

While the villain had been busy humiliating the hero, the hero had decided to push their pawns forward. One of them had gotten to the end of the board.

“My queen, please,” the hero said politely. It was the first time that the villain didn’t yap a snappy comment. They just gave them the piece in silence and got checkmated in four moves, losing the battle.

The hero smiled as they stared at the villain with their mouth agape.

“Oops,” the hero said. “You were right. This was fun.”

[player1064]

I lost access to my tumblr account years ago and you are the only one who has moved me to get a new account with your fics! Slag Gary has me dying!! Dad Roy and Wrighty has me screaming! I know you said no more snippets from slag gary (we are all waiting for the full fic and will do so happily) but any chance of a snippets of Dad Roy with his favorite son Gary and maybe some overprotective Dad Roy with Carra involved? Well, now I'm to regain my account to follow you or make a new one!

AAAAAAA tysm again I'm SO glad that people are excited for slag gary.... it's got me very motivated to keep writing kdghdfgkfdjg

And yes of course here's a bit of Dad Roy.... no Carra bc the Carra bits are outlined but not actually written yet 😭

---

"Becks, I know I said the kids'd be out for a couple of days while we filmed, but --"

Becks' eyes drift to a spot behind Roy and his face splits into a grin, the 'I'm trying to seem friendly to a kid' sort of grin. Sure enough, when Roy looks over his shoulder he sees Gary hovering awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Hiya," Becks says with a little wave. "I'm guessin' you're Gary, right?"

"David Beckham," Gary breathes, then he turns on his heel and sprints back up the stairs.

"Scholesy makes out like he never shuts up," Becks says with a chuckle. "Did I scare him?"

Roy is wondering if maybe he should have warned his son that they were expecting company - he normally does, he just hadn't been able to decide if this time it'd cause more or less stress to know that David Beckham was coming over. And with Wrighty currently on the long drive down to Alton Towers with the twins, he'd had to decide what to do on his own. It's possible he may have made the wrong choice.

"Something like that," he mutters, with a glance back up the stairs. "Here, let me make you a cup of tea and I'll go check on him."

*

When he's got Becks seated in the kitchen with a cup of tea, he heads upstairs to gently knock on Gary's bedroom door.

"I hate you," Gary calls out through the door, but it's not a go away so Roy cracks the door open a fraction and pokes his head round.

Gary's lying face down on his bed, a pillow pulled over his head, but he turns to his side to glare at Roy when he walks in. The overall effect of this is somewhat weakened by the posters plastered on the wall behind him - of which at least three feature Becks front and centre - and by the neat line of David Beckham trading cards and stickers on the pinboard above his desk.

Roy carefully sits himself down on the edge of Gary's bed and pats him on the leg. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you Becks was coming to visit, Gal. I have to do some filming for this documentary he's making, and he came up with the crew because we've not seen each other in a little while. But y'know what he just asked me? He has to hang around while I'm doing my interviews, and he wanted me to see if you'd go kick a ball around in the garden with him while he waits."

"I can't, I'm so embarrassed," Gary groans. "Bet he thinks I'm just this stupid kid now."

"A stupid kid who plays for England schoolboys." He gives Gary's ankle a little squeeze, then he stands back up. "Why don't you come downstairs, just for a minute? He doesn't bite, I promise."

Gary mumbles something which Roy can't make out, so he cocks his head and waits for him to repeat it.

"Can I 'ave some of Dad's secret chocolate if I come?" he asks, just a fraction louder this time.

He makes a mental note to send Ian a text to call him a pushover, because the only way the kids could know about the secret chocolate is if they've been given some of the secret chocolate, and now he's gonna have to find it a new hiding place.

"Fine," he says, and he holds out a hand to beckon for Gary to get up. "Come on, then."

[something-tofightfor]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @the-blind-assassin-12 and @maggiemayhemnj - thank you both for thinking of me!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

113! I didn't realize it was that many.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

1,954,922

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Only the PPCU (so adjacent characters are fair game, too)

4. top five fics by kudos

Magnetic Competing For Christmas You're Tellin' Me Something Real Aphelion Buried (All of these can be found on my tumblr masterlist, too!)

5. do you respond to comments?

I definitely try to respond to everything, but I have been slacking lately. I love reading comments and seeing messages and reading reblog notes and tags, so thank you to everyone that's left me something. I get a little overwhelmed and overthink replies to people, and then they just pile up. I need to get better with that - I don't ever want anyone to feel like I don't appreciate the time they take to read and leave comments, because I 100% do.

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

A lot of my stuff is still ongoing, but I'd have to say that one of my 2023 Summer Smooches for Frankie: A Kiss in the Dark/A Breakup Kiss was really angsty.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of my stories have somewhat happy endings, but I think the one that is actually the overall happiest is Life Is Good

8. do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten some in the past, yes. It's mainly been due to the things I won't write or include / aimed at trying to get me to not write for a specific character because I don't 'do it right' - but I ignore it. It's not worth my time to focus on what anonymous people have to say about my writing or the content I choose to create.

9. do you write smut?

I do! I like to include it when the story calls for it, and not just have it be gratuitious. My characters have to work for it (unless it's a specifically smutty prompt or one shot) because I like giving them motivation for the smut if that makes sense.

10. craziest crossover?

I haven't ever written a crossover, BUT @the-blind-assassin-12 planted the seed for an Oberyn Martell / Logan Delos Thing a little while ago and I haven't stopped thinking about it.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I haven't ever had an entire fic stolen, but I have most definitely seen other writers take parts of my stories and include them in theirs - mainly for another fandom, but it was word for word in a couple instances.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not translated to repost, but a few people have told me they've used Google Translate to read in their first language, so that was pretty neat!

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

HELL YEAH. Aphelion with @the-blind-assassin-12 and there's no one else I'd rather work so closely with on this story. BUT I would love to co-write something else at some point, too.

14. all time favorite ship?

Kate x Jack on LOST. They're perfect for each other and the confirmation from Evangeline a couple years ago that in her mind, Kate was pregnant the last time she left the island makes me cry.

Also, Nine/Ten and Rose on Dr. Who, and Oberyn and Ellaria.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I hope to finish all of my current WIPs, but if I had to choose one that might get abandoned just because of how long it's been ... I'm going to say Starlight, just because I have other ideas for Ezra that I feel more connected with.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I'm good at immersive details, and that people enjoy my dialogue because it feels "real". I have also been told that people like my characterization. I personally feel like I'm good at writing action and tension.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

I don't think I'm particularly good with smut. I also feel like I'm too wordy sometimes, and put too much emphasis on details / things only I as a writer will care about.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If it benefits a story and makes sense for the characters in question, I love it. But I don't include it a lot just because if it's not a made up language like Valyrian or Mando'a, I always worry I'll use or translate things incorrectly.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Children of the Corn. I don't like to talk about it, but ... here we are.

20. favorite fic you've written?

I am insanely, obsessively proud of Just Too Good To Be Gone. I am so protective over Joel Miller and his characterization, and every single thing I've written and planned for that series is something that I stand behind - and always will. I also think that Aphelion is really special, and it's not just because it's Oberyn, but because Alyssa and I have been on the same page every step of the way and it's been really, really satisfying to watch that all come together the way it has.

Tagging: anyone who sees this and wants to play! Please tag me so I can see your answers!!

[pinejayy]

Do you still take requests for Dr.Robotnik stuff, because if you are I was hoping you could write a Robotnik x plus size reader.

I haven’t written for him in so long because I lost motivation for that character, but I still love him! But for you I will do it uwu.

I’m sorry this is so short 🥹

I hope you enjoy this!! uwu

Fluff Love (Dr.Robotnik x Plus Size!Reader)

Life was somewhat great, you had an amazingly boyfriend. Yes your boyfriend was the one and only Ivo Robotnik, yes you loved the man who was after that blue hedgehog. And yes he seemed crazy but he was really sweet and goofy guy. You're just lucky to have him, he was only person who cared about you. Everyone wasn't to nice to you since you were 'bigger'. You didn't understand why they treated you differently just because of your weight, but you didn't let their mean comments get to you...most of the time.

Currently you were walking to the store you and your boyfriend were going to have a date night. It's been awhile since date night, and it took a lot of convincing since he didn't want to stop resting until he caught that hedgehog. But eventually he caved in. 

The store was only five minutes away from your apartment, you were on your way for snacks. It's a shame that he couldn’t join you. As you were walking you heard a couple laughing behind you.

“Wow look at them, walk. Hope they don’t crack the floor.” One of them said, as the other laughed at their comment.

“Yeah! I sure hope so! I wouldn’t wanna fall down.” They laughed.

You couldn’t help but frown at their comments, yes people always made comments about your weight but you never really gotten used to them. You just continue to walk faster. And soon after you made it to the store, walking in quickly. Losing the couple.

You sighed and shook your head, you should’ve let me get you, but it was so hard. As you walked around the store. You tried to look for your favorite snacks and also for your boyfriends, once you grabbed everything you had a lot. As you were about to pay for everything you ran into the couple from a few minutes ago.

They looked at you, smirking. “Wow you’re going to eat all that? Wow safe some for the rest of us.” One of them said as the other laughed.

You look at them, raising an eyebrow. What was their problem with you? “No, this is for me and my boyfriend.” You said. “Now.. I would appreciate you guys leaving me alone.”

The couple looked at each other and laughed at you. “Wow! Are you serious? You? A boyfriend? Wow he must be blind. Like come on.”

You frown and walk off, going to pay for your stuff. But they followed you. “Please leave me alone.”

“Or what? Huh! What are you going to do huh? Send in your boyfriend!” They laughed. “Come on let’s go before their imaginary boyfriend comes after us.” They laughed and with that they walked off laughing.

You stood there, you tried so hard not to tear up. Once you were done paying for your things you walked off. As you walked towards your place you began to tear up. Why were people so rude? What did you even do? As a few minutes passed by you finally made it to your place.

You opened the door, and closed softly. Placing the bag down. You wanted to cry, but couldn't. You didn’t want to worry your boyfriend again.

"Hello Sweetheart, did you get the things?"

You look up and saw your boyfriend, you quickly wipe your tears away. "Hey, I did."

Robotnik looked at you, frowning. "What happened." He asked, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you. You started to tear up.

“People…I hate them.” You say quietly and you hug him back immediately. “They made fun of my weight again…”

Robotnik frowned, he knew that people would constantly make fun of your weight. But that didn’t change of the way he thought of you. He honestly thought you were one of the most prettiest/handsome person he’s ever met. He didn’t understand why people had to be so cruel towards you. Even he wasn’t so mean, yes he was a villain but not an asshole.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I wish I was there for you.” He held you close, rubbing your back.

“Um well…as they were making fun of me… I mentioned that I had a boyfriend, and they laughed, saying that you were imaginary.”

This made him even more upset. “Did you remember how they looked? I have to deal with something.”

You nodded and described the way he looked, and what they were wearing to him. He just nodded. Soon after he pulled away from the hug and he smiled. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I really wish I was there. But don’t pay attention to them. They don’t know what they are talking about…those idiots don’t know what they talking about.”

“But they are rig-“ you say but he cut you off mid sentence. Placing a finger over your lips.

“Don’t finish that sentence, don’t you dare. You’re perfect the way you are. You’re so beautiful. I love you and your prefect body.” He said. Leaning in and placing his forehead against yours. “I love your Y/N, please don’t let them get to you.”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his. “I know, but it’s so hard.”

He looked at you and grabbed your hand, and he started to walk over to the bedroom you guys shared. “I’m going to prove that you’re prefect the way you are.”

You look at him, and just nodded.

Once you guys were in the room he stood in the middle of the room with you. “You really are beautiful, and tonight I’m going to show you how beautiful you are. How prefect your body is.” He said softly, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You kiss back, a bit flustered. Soon after you pulled away from the kiss. “Are you sure it won’t be too much?”

He shook his head “Not at all sweetheart. Now please allow me to show you a wonderful night.” He said, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it.

You couldn’t help but blush. You really were lucky to have him. “I love you Ivo.”

“I love you too Y/N”

And that very night your boyfriend showed you how much you mean to him, and beautiful your body was. Kissing every inch of it and also letting you know that you’re beautiful. He cared for you so much.

But that same night he made sure to pay a visit to that lovely couple, and it wasn’t pretty for them.

[sohmariku]

Happy New Year! (& New Year's resolutions)

Bye bye, 2023! Welcome, 2024!

Last year I was in a rut. A burnout occupied me most of the year, and I don't think I released any subtitles at all! I simply could not find the energy to work on anything. I did release a couple of novel translations (on a side blog), but wasn't quite as consistent as I had hoped.

So, for next year... let's try to change that! Let's at least finish the subtitles for Tenden (Tousute)! I'm more than halfway there already! How's that for a New Year's resolution?

If I put my mind to it, I'm pretty sure I should be able to do it! Can't stay in this rut forever! It's going to be a slow and steady process though. So, don't get your hopes up just yet. I don't want to spiral right back into burnout again!

Speaking of New Year's resolutions, last year I said I wanted to read 100 books this year, of which 20 would be in Japanese...

Well, let's just say I didn't make it. (Unless I include manga volumes in the count.) The total count of novels read stopped at 60. That is less than in 2022 (80 books) and 2021 (69 books)!! And here I was thinking I could do it! (Let's try again in 2024?)

Looking at the list, I lost interest in reading somewhere in the middle of the year. Probably because I was trying to read Japanese novels, but my mind was too tired to commit to it. In the end, I finished only 7 Japanese books. (...it's something.)

It seems the first 6 months of 2023 were completely devoted to rereading Ascendance of a Bookworm. (The last book of the series was released in December. The ending is very satisfying.) In April I ran out of English-translated volumes and started on the Japanese volumes, but... I lost the motivation to read consistently.

It was only in August that I picked up the pace again, soon after I bought a bunch of new books at a second-hand store.

The most notable entry of 2023:

"Pride & Prejudice". I finally read the book after all these years! I must have bought it over 10 years ago, but somehow never opened it! I was quite all right. The story is good, but the writing was a bit long-winded, I guess>

"The Longest Memory". I was forced to read it in high school but did not enjoy it back then. Upon rereading the book, I can only say I was too young to appreciate it back then. I think it is actually a pretty good read. Although somewhat depressing.

"Hitler's Daughter". A book that my husband was forced to read in high school. I remember picking it up before, because the title sounded intriguing, but then only reading a chapter or two. Well, I finished it this time, and, it's good.

"The Apothecary Diaries". The latest addition to the list of Japanese light novels I've fallen in love with. It's kind of sucks I'm caught up with the English translations already... either gotta wait for more translated chapters or find out if Japanese ones are floating around.

Other books on 2023's read list are worth mentioning: "The Invisible Library" (Genevieve Cogman), "There is No Dog" (Meg Rosoff), "Papertowns" (John Green), "A Tale of Time City" (Diana Wynne Jones), "Murder at the Bookstore" (Sue Minex), "A Three Dog Problem" (S.J.Bennet) & "The Thursday Murder Club" (Richard Osman).

[thistransient]

Thoughts on my visa run to Tokyo: not to be a complainer (I'm gonna complain), but taking into consideration that it was a last-minute decision with minimal planning, I was a bit underwhelmed. I have fond memories of walking around Naha, Okinawa some years ago with great delight at simply being there, but perhaps a certain percentage of that was "first time in Japan" thrill (or I was so fed up with my circumstances at home that the break was particularly welcome). It could also be that enduring life with recently sprained ribs took my focus off the sights somewhat (there was a hefty price to be paid for forgetting to hold in sneezes). As such I didn't press myself to go to too many places: I stayed at a hostel in a traditional house in Asakusa, and spent the most time walking around Yanaka and Koenji with a brief foray into Shinjuku (albeit late enough that my feet hurt and it was very crowded on the streets, so this did not last long). There were so many foreign tourists in Asakusa that I felt rather as if I were in that Japan-themed part of Disney World, and I found myself gravitating inevitably to the riverside (pictured above).

If anything I felt self-conscious that said tourist contingent appeared to be having the time of their lives, whereas I had come here somewhat on a whim and kept being told "wrong ticket!" by the metro staff almost every time I made at attempt at transferring

(In addition to not buying a SIM card I also didn't bother with a metro card because I figured individual tickets couldn't be that hard, could they? Ahahaha.)

But for all these woes, I do love looking at Japanese buildings (a treat for my niche interest in external fire escape stairs), the bakery offerings were excellent, and I decided eventually to forgive myself for my restaurant anxiety and just eat onigiri in the cemetery such that I was at least ingesting something. I'd go back to Japan (to other cities), but I'd like to do it with company, and more planning.

Coming back was in fact the real adventure, with the flight diversion to Macao, the jaunt in the wee hours of the morning with my hotel roommate, and eventual return to Taipei. The immigration process has really been streamlined, there's an online arrival card now, and the line moved so fast I just managed to fill it out before it was my turn. The agent barely glanced at me before stamping me in (I had actually been practicing my speech justifying flying in and out of the country every 90 days, and even printed out a bank statement, but the online form required one to list an exit flight, which evidently preempted any interrogation).

In the moment I was extremely relieved! But now I find myself bereft of my regular activities either on account of my ribs (watching shibari is not half as fun as being on the receiving end, and I really miss biking) or because I've become disillusioned with a couple of my former sources of regular socialisation. I feel increasingly like I don't actually have much in common with the people at the trans group beyond us all being trans, and my presence (or lack thereof, last time I had a bit of a panic episode and ran away without saying anything) at their events is pretty meaningless as far as 'volunteering' goes. I also abruptly lost interest in a friend I'd spent a lot of time with in the past year, which bothered me quite a bit (how could I feel so heartless towards someone who had bought me a thoughtful birthday gift) until I did enough writing and figured it out, but that still hasn't rekindled any desire to hang out again, except perhaps out of guilt (not the best motivation). In the face of these things (amongst others), and the fact that I've done my 3rd visa run this year with no apparent plan to stop living in 3 month increments, I think it's time...time to go back to therapy.

[mysticsparklewings]

Mystic's Museletter - Long Time, No Type!

This blog entry was originally posted to Ko-fi and DeviantArt and may also be read in full in either of those places.

Hey there Sparklers; It's been a while, hasn't it? 😅

So I suppose I should start with an apology, because I am sincerely sorry that it's been almost a year now since I was doing my regular "Monthly Museletter/Round-Up" Posts [on dA & Ko-fi, doing them here on Tumblr is entirely new], and it's also been a few months now since I was posting art...really at all, let alone regularly.

And because of that, if it wasn't already obvious, this isn't even going to be quite like my former "regular" long-form posts. It's going to be long, which itself isn't unusual, but because of how much there is to cover, I'm going to try and divide this all up into mostly self-contained sections, and have a list of those sections (marked by headers of the same title) beneath this paragraph so you can jump/scroll around and read "the interesting bits" at your leisure:

Overview of Where I've Been

DeviantArt's Changes

Other Things I've Been Doing - Part 1: Ohuhu Again! - Part 2: Social Sites & Dolls - Part 3: Everything Else

Peeks At Actual Art Things I've Done

Wrap Up

Overview of Where I've Been

So what happened? Well, the Monthly blog posts were just a victim of my executive dysfunction—I got in my head about how long they usually take to put together and when I'd miss one or put it off too long, naturally that would mean the next one would take even longer to catch up and it just spiraled downward from there.

Clearly, if I want to continue with those going forward, I need to make some changes to how they work so I can actually do them. At the moment though I don't have any concrete plans, but I have some general ideas that relate more to the next section.

Okay, but what about Artwork? I was on a pretty good roll there, especially with Winx Art, and then...Crickets.

This one I can't even fully explain myself. At first, I know I was largely bogged down by the fact that I just kept missing self-imposed deadlines to have certain pieces finished by, and my motivation to post art was majorly crippled by some Changes DeviantArt Made, but I feel like those two reasons alone don't cover everything.

My personal life has also been a bit of a roller coaster these past few months, but that is somewhat "normal" for me, so I don't feel right blaming it on that, either.

My best guess is those things combined with my usual Post-Inktober Funk™ and made a kind of "Seasonal Burnout," sort of like Seasonal Depression (as is fairly common for a lot of people to experience around the holidays and winter months). I've had plenty of creative ideas and was even able to do some other creative things I'll touch on more in a bit, but the motivation to actually draw was just...not there.

The other reason I chalk this up as "Seasonal" is because as the weather has finally, slowly started to warm up, I have noticed some internal changes with myself...Nothing major has happened yet, but I feel more squarely pointed back in a "Drawing Direction," if that makes any sense.

I think the last piece of the puzzle to get me at least sort of back on track is related to those Changes I mentioned DeviantArt made. So let's talk a bit about that...

DeviantArt's Changes

Towards the end of October—Naturally, my busiest month!—All of a sudden, I could no longer edit Deviation descriptions directly in Sta.sh, which I'm sure some of you Sparklers are familiar with.

This matters because I found writing & editing descriptions in Sta.sh much more convenient than typing them directly on the Submission Page. Mostly for formatting reasons, but also as a hangover from many years ago when I lost a a few descriptions that were written only on the Submission Page, which didn't (doesn't?) auto-save consistently like Sta.sh did.

So. That wasn't good, but I figured out that I could still edit existing Text documents that I had in Sta.sh, so I took to writing the descriptions in an old one of those and would copy & paste it into the final Art description later. But eventually, that method stopped working too. (I think around mid-November, but I'm not 100% sure.)

As of right now, you cannot edit any text of any kind in Sta.sh anymore. You either handle it directly (on the Submission Page for Artwork, or using dA's on-site text editor for written work), or you don't bother.

Now, I'll wholeheartedly agree that on paper this doesn't sound like a big deal. And it really probably shouldn't be. But nevertheless, to cut an overly long explanation short: It is/was for me. It felt like one of the last few threads tying me here, to DeviantArt, snapped.

Again, to cut an overly long explanation short, emotionally, that really hurt. I have more or less been mourning the loss of the DeviantArt I first joined back in 2011 as a result. 😞

And to cut one more explanation short: I've been thinking for a while now that it might be in my best interest to start up a more proper dedicated blog for my long art descriptions, and this blow to the way I write said descriptions on dA really solidifies that. I still have to figure out exactly where said blog will be—possibly here on Tumblr* which is why I'm posting this here now—but I have pretty much made up my mind that it does need to exist, one way or another.

(*I'd stick it over on Ko-fi, but as it currently stands Ko-fi doesn't have great organization or archive functions for older blog posts; If it's not recent it's difficult to find, and that just won't work with the blog-ish flow I know I'd need, among other small issues with Ko-fi's formatting.)

With all that said...I don't really want to say there's still a bit of light at the end of the tunnel for dA because that doesn't really feel accurate, but that's the closest expression I have.

Very recently, DeviantArt announced a new overhaul coming to the Submission Page, and while I have extremely mixed feelings about it (because I strongly suspect this is exactly why Sta.sh has been crippled)...I don't hate it. There are things I like about it, I'm mainly just bitter and fearful about Sta.sh's future.

But I also haven't fully put this "Studio" thing to the test yet—That requires actually submitting art. So, perhaps there is yet more hope than I think...

Other Things I've Been Doing

To that end, you're probably wondering about those "other creative things" I've been able to do I mentioned earlier, and also if there is any "proper" artwork to show for these past couple of months.

I'll go ahead and spoil that yes, even though there isn't much of it, I do have some "proper" artwork things I can show you, but I think (as this section title implies) it'll be better to address those other creative things I've been doing first.

Part 1: Ohuhu Again!

Probably the most interesting to you Sparklers will be the revelation that I'm in very early stages of working on a kind of "Buying Guide" for the Ohuhu Honolulu Markers.

I'm sure some of you Sparklers are familiar with my Ohuhu Chart and the unofficial "ongoing saga" of keeping that thing up-to-date. Some newer Sparkles may also have originally heard of the chart and/or me from the Ohuhu SubReddit, because I've spent quite a bit of time over there helping people figure out the best way to get all 363 of the Honolulu colors...since unfortunately, Ohuhu has made that process kind of confusing. 😅

Very similar to my chart sorting out confusion over how many colors there are in the first place, I want to make some kind of fixed resource I can point people to that would hopefully help clear up a lot of that said confusion.

I don't want to get to specific on the details of the "final" guide at this point since it is so early; Rather I want to just tell you Sparklers the actual work I've been doing to make it happen, and that all boils down primarily to three things:

Collecting and Organizing some text-based information (mostly in the form of Spreadsheets), and I was already doing a fair bit of this before I decided to even attempt making a Buying Guide

Fixing up my marker storage. I keep my Honolulus in their original bags for space-related reasons, but I've been meaning to make dividers for the bags to make everything more stable, and Spare-Cartoonist6276's Honeycomb method was the final push to do that I needed to actually do it. The only real downside has been that it just takes a while to construct each honeycomb section (and I'm not even bothering with the pretty color-matching cardstock). Fortunately, at time of writing I only have 2 sections left to go out of the original 11!

Swatching & Attempting to sort every color in a "Proper" Color Order. This is also something I've been meaning to try anyway and how useful it would be became pretty undeniable as I started thinking about how this Buying Guide is going to work. I'm in Stage 1 for this process—As I finish a honeycomb section, I swatch the markers in that section, so when the honeycombs are done, the swatches for colors I actually own will also be done. This is also different from my usual swatching because I made very basic little cards with holes punched in them so hopefully comparing colors and physically arranging them is as easy as possible. This swatching has been a long time coming though and is also taking a little bit longer because...I don't actually own every Honolulu color! I'm missing about 35, all of which belong to the "Pesky 43" that only come in certain sets. And with other expenses and trying to save up for a new website (yep, that Ko‑fi Goal is still active, folks!), I just haven't been able to justify dropping $130+ on yet more markers to fix that problem.

However, after some poking around and discussion in the wider Ohuhu Community, a Reddit User by the name of JayZedHorse very kindly reached out and offered to send me physical swatches of the missing colors! They are en route to me as I type!

There are still many small ways in which this isn't a completely perfect solution, but it is still a very solid step in the right direction and I am eagerly counting down the days until I have those swatches in hand!

So at the moment I have the small goal of being finished with the Honeycombs and my own swatches before the swatches JayZed sent me arrive; That way I should be able to jump pretty straight into the comparisons and start on color arrangement. But, fortunately, even if I can't be finished with the honeycombs by then, it won't be the end of the world. Both things will get done either way, it'll just take a little longer.

But that is about all I have to say about this Buying Guide that I think you Sparklers would be interested in, for now, so on to the next subject...

Part 2: Social Sites & Dolls

I'll start by saying there are two Social Media sites I've been semi-active on and so people that either follow me in those places or frequent the same communities I do will probably already have a few ideas of the other ways I've been flexing my creative muscles lately. [...And Members of the Sparklers' Club Discord Server will also have seen a fair bit of the same posted directly in there!]

As I sort of mentioned with the Ohuhu section above, I've been spending quite a bit of time on Reddit. It's not my favorite place on the internet, but I do like that I've been able to have long-ish form discussions about things over there that I would be pretty hard-pressed to cleanly fit inside of art posts. That's where most of my writing muscles have been getting their exercise.

The other one, and probably a little more interesting to you Sparklers, is BlueSky, one of the half a dozen "Twitter Replacements" that's been floating around.

To be fair, there were points where I thought either Mastodon or Threads were going to be my "Twitter Replacement" of choice, but ultimately neither ended up sticking with me and I'm not really sure why. It's possible the same will eventually be true for BlueSky as well, but so far even without fresh art to post it's been jiving decently enough with me.

I've mostly been posting Doll Photos over there; Literally the month after I lost the will to keep up with the monthly blog posts entirely, my interest in Fashion Dolls was finally renewed after a probably 5-6 year hiatus with one Karla Choupette.

I'll spare you Sparklers the nitty-gritty details (especially since I think I may be able to delve into them more appropriately in the future 😉), but suffice to say after falling in love with Karla and Monster High finally producing dolls I actually like again that I've been having a bit of a "Doll Love Renaissance" and I have taken probably a gross and shocking amount of photos of small plastic ladies over the course of the last year.

I don't know what it is about BlueSky that's made me genuinely want to share over there—It certainly isn't a massive following or massive amounts of engagement—but there is something, and it's pretty nice when previously I had to really talk myself into sharing anything that wasn't directly art-related over on Twitter.

Aside from just letting you Sparklers know I'm active on BlueSky at all, this is also relevant because I've taken to fairly regularly making things for the dolls—Mostly tiny crochet clothes, but a few other accessories too, like a belt I recently made to cover up uneven stitching on one doll's dress. And sometimes I re-paint details on certain dolls as well, but nothing super dramatic like some Doll Customizers do!

I would eventually like to compile photos of all (or at least most) of the things I've made for the dolls and maybe actually post them at least over on Ko-fi, and maybe here on DeviantArt too, since I am pretty proud of a lot of them and I think they'd be mildly interesting to my audience. But there are no concrete plans for that at the moment, just wishful thinking.

One related thing I do have slightly more concrete plans for though is the release of a Crochet Pattern—I got a little tired of the lack of pants options for the Rainbow High dolls, especially non-skinny ones, so I did some research and muddled together a pattern for some fitted bell-bottoms. I think the pattern itself is pretty much ready-to-go for sharing, but I did want to make one last test pair of the pants first (this will be the third pair in total) just to make sure one of my yarn recommendations works as well as I think it will.

The pattern will 100% be posted in the Ko‑fi Shop when the time comes, I'm just not completely sure if I'll be attempting to post it (or example photos at least) to DeviantArt as well, but...probably. We'll see!

Part 3: Everything Else

There is one more "not proper art" thing I've been slowly chipping away at that I think you Sparklers will find interesting.

...To be fair, there are some other much smaller things that I've shared with the Sparklers' Club on Discord that would also fit in this category, but they're not as interesting and would normally be saved for the "From the Archives" section in a Monthly Round-Up, so I'd feel out of place discussing them here.

Anyway. I've started the maybe-minorly-insane project of maintaining a Wiki for my Winx Club OCs: "The Mystix Dimension."

I've been keeping a running Google Doc with information about said OCs over the past couple of years as I've been doing major redevelopment on them, but I was getting tired of the limited ways to organize everything in that format.

After a lot of research that ultimately ended up going nowhere, I opted for the format I know best. I spent quite a bit of time making pages for my most-used Winx OCs on the Winx Fanon Wiki back in the day, but in the present I wanted the freedom to mess with the Wiki's code to both make it look more like the "official" Winx Club Wiki and also tailor it more to my own specific needs.

The "Mystix Wiki" is still very Under Construction with a lot of stuff missing, but it is slowly but surely getting there and most of the "bones" are in place.

So if you Sparklers are curious about my Winx OCs specifically, you can pop over there and have a look around—Of the information there, there's already a nice sampling that's pretty different from what long-time Sparklers may remember of my OCs from the earlier DeviantArt days when I was posting about them super regularly. 😉

A side effect of the Wiki that I semi-expected though is that it has made me realize how little I've actually drawn of my OCs even though they've been pretty consistently on the back of my mind for months. So I think pretty soon there are going to be more new Winx drawings in the works as I continue to fill out the Wiki. 😆

And speaking of drawings in the works...

Peeks At Actual Art Things I've Done

Now, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I definitely don't have a lot in the way of Work-In-Progress (WIP) Drawings, but I do have some that I started on before this unintentional hiatus. While I'd normally save some or even most of the WIPs for a Monthly Round-Up instead, given the circumstances I think it only makes sense to go ahead and share them with you Sparklers here and now.

We'll start with a few that should be recognizable as "updates" from the WIP Palooza that I posted back in August:

Firstly, and this will most likely be the next finished piece I actually post, I did finally polish off that sketch of Karla Choupette in the Winx Club art style. (And this is what I meant earlier when I mentioned I might be able to elaborate on my Doll Renaissance feelings later—The description for this piece would be a good place to do that!)

...I'm not showing the completely finished version here because I would like there to be some surprise when it goes public, and also even after all this time I'm still not 100% on the background I chose. So it could still change before the final post.

But Karla herself I'm happy with. I have no idea if I'll ever draw any more Rainbow/Shadow High characters in the Winx Style, but the door is open if I decide I want to.

Next we have...heh, My Winxsona in the Fan Transformation Formalix, better known as "Winxsona Winter Week 7". Incredibly, unbelievably late for "Winxsona Winter" at this point. But nevertheless, I started on the final two pieces for the series and I do want to finish them!

This one isn't fully finished like Karla, but it isn't too far off. It mainly needs shading and a background...And if I had no clue what to do for a background for Karla, then I have like -5 clues what to do for this one. 😅 I'll figure something out, though!

Likewise, I also have the "finished" sketch for "Winxsona WInter Week 8," or: My Winxsona in the Fan Transformation Dimentix.

Mystic Stars and Above on my Ko-fi already saw this WIP back in July, but this is much further along than you Sparklers saw in the WIP Palooza; At that time I had the concept sketch for the outfit and the wings done, and the pose, but I hadn't drawn the outfit on the pose yet.

The Dimentix wings are also ready for coloring (and the Mystic Stars & Above saw this one already too), but they won't be colored until after I get the flat colors down for the outfit/main image so I have a better idea of what colors should go where:

Again, no clue for the background on the finished Dimentix piece, but push-come-to-shove, I can skip a proper background and just recreate the..."wallpaper" effects that were used for the original Dimentix images made by FlorainBloom back in the day.

That leaves us with the two final WIPs I have to share, but for my Winx-loving Sparklers, I think they'll be the most exciting...

Yes, over a year later, I'm picking up the "series" that technically began with Light that Burns the Sky! 😁

Originally, I wasn't sure "Dark Enchantix" (or, my preferred name that I way overthought: "Incantix") would even be a series, but the response to Bloom and Stella was so positive [the Time Lapse has over 20,000 views on YouTube!!] and I did enjoy the concept so much...Yeah, it only feels right to give the rest of the Winx the same treatment. 😄

​As you can see, I've managed to come pretty far. Tecna and Flora have most of their shading done, so next for them is getting their wings in order, then the background (and I plan to use basically the same background that Bloom and Stella got for everyone, so that shouldn't take too much work). And Layla and Musa are pretty far along too...However, I have gone back and forth a bit on Layla's blues and Musa's golds/yellows.

Once again, I'll spare you the nitty-gritty for now, but was one of the challenges for my "Incantix Vision" from the beginning and is the smaller part of why these two drawings have been delayed so much. [...Y'know aside from the other things we talked about at the beginning of this journal.]

The other thing is that I lost my mojo for these two pieces specifically because I had hoped I'd get them finished by the end of the year to submit to a Winx Club fan project, and clearly that didn't happen. (I did go ahead and submit Bloom & Stella since they were finished, though!)

However, that fan project recently re-opened submissions through the end of May this year, so naturally I'm feeling a bit of an itch to see if I get can them both finished by then, even if it's just the still images and the Time Lapses (which only make sense to make since the first one did so well) have to wait a bit longer.

...Considering it's nearly the end of April now and I'd like to get at least 1-2 other things posted before I jump back into Incantix, and all the other circumstances, I obviously have my doubts about whether or not that will happen. But, who knows, maybe telling you Sparklers about it at this stage will be the extra encouragement I need.

At the very least, you Sparklers now know those finished pieces are coming eventually even if it isn't in May, and that was the main point in sharing the WIPs anyhow.

Wrap Up

​So. Now you Sparklers know where the heck I've been and some of what I've been up to in my time away.

I really didn't mean to more or less up and disappear and I am not happy that I have so little to show for my absence...But there's no time machine to go back and un-do it all, so for better or worse it is what it is.

I am, however, writing this blog post in the hopes that it'll be the "permission" I need to give myself to at least attempt to get back into an art posting rhythm.

As I touched on in the previous section, I do have a vague plan for my next finished piece to post, but it felt kind of wrong to just randomly go back to posting art like the past 4-5 months didn't happen with no explanation, especially over on Ko-fi. So here we are.

And...Beyond that, I really don't know how to end this. It feels a bit cheap to leave on my previous usual blog post send-off when this one is so different in nature...But I also don't consider myself as very good at ending these things in the first place. 😅

I should say though before I go—I really, sincerely do appreciate you Sparklers that have stuck by me in one way or another while I went radio silent. Every like, comment, whatever—I've still seen them all while I was away, and those are the little things that keep bringing me back when I do hit rough patches like this. Knowing that at the end of the day the art things I do matter to someone out there. It means more than I can put into words. So thank you, Sparklers, for just being there.

​Hopefully, it won't be too much longer before I can share some new things with you Sparklers to make it really worth your while. But, until then, as always...

Take Care and Sparkle On ✨

~Mystic~

[angelicgarnet]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you for tagging me @louwhose !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

237,923.... I thought it'd be more

3. What fandoms do you write for?

right now i'm mostly writing for the legend of zelda tbh.... i plan to write more wwdits someday though

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Bared Fangs (wwdits)

Getting It Right (wwdits)

an anonymous fic that i'd rather not associate with this blog

Love Spell (ofmd)

another anonymous fic that I don't want to associate with this blog lmao

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

yes!!! I try to respond more often than not, comments make me so happy and I want people to know i'm grateful for them!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm... tbh I don't write a whole lot of angst? the closest I got is bittersweet, and I think the ending of lost in the woods (legend of zelda) is somewhat bittersweet

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

Getting It Right has such an adorably fluffy ending ngl

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope! i've gotten a slightly rude comment here and there but nothing intentionally hateful

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, and I always post it anonymously because I am ashamed lmao

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

nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no but i'd love if someone did!

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

i've attempted it a few times but none of them have gotten finished unfortunately

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

that's always changing tbh. right now it's zelink but I would have said the same thing about nandermo a few months ago

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

there was a tuck everlasting hannibal au I started a few years ago but I never finished it and probably never will because I don't have much motivation to write for that fandom anymore

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm good at writing funny dialogue I think!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

using the same phrases too often. sometimes I add a bunch of unnecessary details when describing things too which makes it kinda cluttered

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

i think it can work as long as you're not relying too much on Google translate

19. First fandom you wrote for?

warrior cats LMAO I used to write dumb warriors crack fanfiction when I was like 12 and it was entirely "rawr XD" humor

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

it changes a lot honestly hmm.... i'm really fond of this autistic nandor fic I wrote (Heavy Quilt), it was very cathartic to write and I sometimes find myself re-reading it when i'm having a rough time

i'm also really fond of 08/01/13, which I wrote for a hannibal flashfic a while back. my writing has improved a LOT since then so it's not the best fic i've written, but I am still proud of the story itself :3

i'll tag @faelapis @bjdeogame @farore-or-less and @fifthnormani and anyone else who wants to do this!

[kikizoshi]

I just realised not too long ago that... well, I don't think I actually like Fyodor anymore. I don't think I can. I just get annoyed every time I see him do anything.

Of course, I still absolutely adore him in his debut arc, but after that? In Meursault? I just... I can't. He doesn't even feel like the same character I fell in love with.

And the recent chapter really solidified that, I think. Or maybe it killed my hope that he would get better... Idk, something about it made me realise how much I don't like his characterisation anymore, and that... it really hurts.

Even though I still love and adore early Fyodor, and have by no means lost any passion for writing and exploring him, this later version... At this point I just want him to be put out of his misery.

I think the main problem—other than the fact that almost no BSD character remains well-written after their debut arc—is that this is a very, truly terrible environment for any sort of interesting development.

Maybe it had potential to be, but he and Dazai have pretty much just been circle-jerking each other for years, and not even well. Like, they communicate in symbols corresponding to past conversations. Okay??? But there's nothing truly impressive to me in that. It's just a fact that they're capable of it.

I wasn't all that impressed that Fyodor could memorise the scratches on Ace's cards, either. What was impressive about his character was how he was able to use his talents of memory and manipulation to force an interesting conclusion, and then the insight we get with Karma into his true motivation and morals.

No matter how I look at it, Fyodor truly shines when interacting with characters who are either not as intelligent as him (Ace, Karma), or intelligent in vastly different ways (Nikolai). He's interesting and complex when interacting with people he's actively manipulating. I want to punch him every time he has a convo with Dazai (like, seriously, whenever Fyodor has a scene I'm happy, and whenever Dazai appears in it, I want to cry), because his entire character devolves into "I knew that you knew..." on and on ad infinitum. (And yes, I'm well aware that the way in which he manipulated Ace was stupid and makes less sense the more you think about it, but at least he was doing literally anything intelligent/creative. I'm not actually looking for Machiavelli or even Makima in Fyodor, this can be brain candy, but, y'know, I want to see him do cool things and be his cool, creative self.)

Also, I do understand that there was no way of achieving this with the structure of the recent arcs. Pretty much the only way to include Fyodor at all was probably to make him a spectator. But I still would have taken 'hidden, shadowy figure whose true plans are unknown' over the peanut gallery. Maybe if the prison break was a good enough payoff, it'd've been worth it, but the prison break is just an atrociously-constructed chimera of contrived happenstances and character assassinations.

And I just... God, I just want Fyodor back. But we won't get him back, and I've somewhat reconciled that already, but it adds an extra layer of hurt to realise I don't even like him anymore. I hate that I get annoyed at his every expression now.

[jonny-thoughts]

Dancing in the Morning: An Introspective Journal Entry About Social Anxiety and How I Spend My Time

Morning of March 20, 2022

This morning I am using an idea I learned from Michael Meade; I am writing down as much as I remember about my dream from last night - I also danced this morning, allowing my emotions to transform into motions, which felt incredible. The main thing I remember is that my girlfriend found out she was pregnant with twin boys. I was so excited to bring two people into this world and I remember feeling more connected with my girlfriend and ready to raise our boys together. There were no thoughts of regret or worry that I would be missing out on things even that we were to have our children in our twenties. Much of the narrative that I have heard around having children young, especially in urban centers, is that people miss out on “life” (ironic, isn’t it?). I think it depends on what sort of lifestyle you live. This motivated some pondering on my lifestyle.

Today is Sunday. Last night I had the opportunity to stay out late, meet new people, and hear live music. Saturday morning I woke up at 3:45am refreshed and ready to immerse myself in nature. I went for a hike through the snow with a friend in the Mt. Lady Washington wilderness near Estes Park. Exposing myself to the elements was tough at first; I had difficulty breathing at that altitude. On top of that, I would consider myself somewhat out of shape. Soon my breath reached a comfortable equilibrium where I didn’t feel like I was gasping for air every five seconds. In moments like these where I overcome the discomfort of shortness of breath, I am grateful for the researchers from whom I’ve learned breathwork to help in this situation. The method I perform looks like the following: breathe slowly in taking long and deep breaths, being careful not to suck in a ton of air rapidly. Then, hold the breath all the way out. From what I’ve read in James Nestor’s book Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, this allows my body to use oxygen more efficiently. 

When we passed the tree line and walked into rolling hills of snow and sporadic pines, we could feel the cold and icy air hitting our ears and faces; this was quite uncomfortable. We kept walking a little bit, but then upon further research from my hiking partner who is an avid hiker, outdoorsman, and mountaineer, we turned back in an effort to avoid a storm that would potentially be dangerous. We got back to our cars, said farewell, and I drove the two hours home back to Denver. 

When I got home, I rested briefly, then got on my bike and rode to the tennis courts to meet some friends. After playing tennis I rode home, rested briefly once again, and met my friend, call him Oliver, at the bar near my house called Shorty’s for a pitcher of Coors Banquet and some dinner. It was a St. Patrick’s Day-themed celebration at the bar so they had specials like Carbombs, Shepherd's Pie, and of course, Corned Beef and Cabbage. I ordered the Shepherd’s Pie and Corned Beef and Cabbage and enjoyed the pitcher as Oliver and I shared pleasant conversation. Oliver invited me to see a band that I was unfamiliar with. I thought that I should accept the offer for a few reasons. First, a few weeks ago I was trying to find someone to attend a concert with me since I had an extra ticket and Oliver said yes. We went and we had a great time. Second, I felt a societal pressure to go because “that’s what people our age do”.

In addition to the concert, Oliver was adamant about seeing a new friend of his, we will call him Frank, at some point in the evening. As time grew closer to the concert, Frank was at an apartment party. As odd as this may sound, that just did not sound fun to me. I was tired from my day and did not have the energy to place myself in such an environment and be my full, attentive self. After some trepidation, I decided to call it a night after Shorty’s. By going home and going to bed early I felt like I was potentially missing out. I wasn’t participating in the events or lifestyle that most people in their twenties living in a city would want to do. But this morning, I am very content with my decision. 

I initially woke up feeling anxious about my decision and I was worried that people in my life would be disappointed in me for skipping out on such a “fun” night. I was almost crippled with my melancholy, but I awoke early in the morning (7:45) and got myself out of bed and into the kitchen where I put the kettle on the stove to make some tea. I then moved my body in my living room, feeling the flow of my emotions transform into physical movement. Because I was feeling anxious, my movements appeared as if I was trying to purge something out of me. I then became more open with my movements, swaying side-to-side and opening up my ever-tight hips. At this point I felt a tremendous flow of life, prana, chi, whatever you want to call it. This reminded me of how good you feel when you move and take care of your body. I stretched while I drank my tea and read some articles online. I then grabbed my computer.

No one can tell the future, but we can project the future based on the past. If I were to do this as sincerely as possible in the context of this weekend, I can confidently say that had I gone out last night, I would have slept in late this morning, would not have felt as energized, and I probably would not have celebrated my mind and body like I did when I was moving around my living room. I would much rather have the morning I am experiencing now than the fun and exciting energy of last night and the feeling of despair this morning. However, most of the time I don’t make the choice that I did last night. I mainly choose to go out and be hungover the next morning, and I always feel horrible about it. This is all because I’ve been told that I won’t make friends or enjoy life if I don’t participate in that lifestyle. 

I think and hope that I am beginning to build strength in knowing and doing what’s best for me, and doing what I want to do. I love to learn and explore ideas. It’s not always easy to find curious minds to discuss ideas with. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, and I have had great practice talking about things I didn’t really know about or that I’m not too interested in. However, when most of the people in the room are talking about something, I often feel like I don’t have a lot to add; I am listening and digesting what they’re saying and then every once in a while I will share a thought. When no one is talking and I try to start a conversation about something I find fascinating, the room often falls silent. I’m glad that I’ve had practice adapting to different social situations, but at the same time, I haven’t really fueled my curiosity or filled my cup through conversation in the last six months with the people I’ve met; I fill that cup by researching things on my own, reading, watching fascinating YouTube videos, and meditating.

Morning of March 28, 2022

I think my social experiences this past weekend play nicely into the theme I’ve been discussing above. I was in a ski cabin with seven other people. There was one evening, the second evening we were there, where I felt like I didn’t want to participate in the conversation. At first it felt like I wasn’t interested in the things they were talking about. I told myself that even if this is true, I can still try to enjoy it and be present in the conversation and listen. I didn’t force myself to participate, I only spoke up when I felt a genuine urge to do so, and I found that people received what I said well. I don’t want to have to try to be someone else; I don’t want to say things that feel unnatural. Later on that evening in the ski town, we were at a very busy bar. This is the type of environment I might be comparing myself to others socially, which causes an uneasy feeling. I told myself it’s okay to not constantly engage in conversation; it’s okay to sit, drink my beer, and watch my friends play their pool game. When I took this approach I found that I still talked to people, but this time I felt loose and natural about it. I wasn’t doing it because I felt like I had to - I hate doing things because I feel like I have to. I was feeling introspective and I genuinely enjoyed experiencing that environment from a quiet and observant perspective; taking it in, enjoying the energy and company. 

However, my friends saw that I was alone and they tried to get me to talk to strangers. I appreciated this because it shows that they care about me and they want me to make friends and have fun. I explained that at that moment, I didn’t feel the desire to strike up a conversation, but rather observe the environment quietly and engage in conversation when it felt right. They understood. I felt good about my approach and experience at the bars last night, however, the one thing cutting into my vibe was the anxiety I felt whenever I considered what my parents and my girlfriend would think of me: I worry about what my parents would think because I grew up a very social person and spoke to anyone. I like to think that my lack of words used now is not a result of social anxiety or discomfort, but rather a goal of mine to say more with fewer words and be more calculated and intentional in my speech. Furthermore, I worry about what my girlfriend would think of me because she is the type of person who can talk to anyone about anything. I don’t want her to think of me as antisocial. I hope that she doesn’t look at me as such (she said she doesn't think that) and I try to tell myself to trust her not to judge me in that way - I hope I can trust her to understand that I am present, listening, engaged, and thoughtful even when I’m not talking. I wish I could stop worrying about it. I feel like if I am strong and confident in my approach, then people will pick up on that. In fact, some people I’ve spoken to said that although I come off as quiet and “soft-spoken”, they can see that I’m a good person once the conversation gets going. And I am fine with that. 

[zaruba-needslove]

some more update on their defense of the Vcine

[It’s not a departure from what was established in the show.

Michinaga wasn’t able to convince Keiwa to abandon the dark road he set out on because he felt guilty for setting him down that path in the first place. That no longer applies in this case, especially now that Michinaga is in lock-step with Ace’s ideals. Michinaga using words to calm the kid down shows this growth as a character, not some sort of retcon because they never said “oh Michinaga has always been great with words, he’s got this”.

Dooms Geats being a departure from the Ace we know was already explained in the movie. In the 1000 years that lie between Dooms Geats’ time and the events of the show, Ace lost his faith in humanity after observing them for that period of time. His friends died out so long ago that and nothing really changed. That’s why he has the white hair and blue eyes. He’s become a dispassionate arbiter of human lives. That’s not a retcon because we had never seen Dooms Geats up until this point and our present-day Ace remains the same as always.

The only “retcon” you claim that I can somewhat agree with is the Michinaga being part-Jyamato bit. But even that’s super minor because they can always say that continuous use of the Jyamato buckle results in a permanent physiological change that can’t be reset, only suppressed. Beroba even mentions in the movie that that part of him is never going away. It’s not that big of a deal.]

and the guy who kept on insisting that the vcine was a huge retcon overall is being downvoted to hell lol.

This will be a LONG RANT. Kinda a pity i cant direct this rant at them.

because he felt guilty for setting him down that path in the first place.

And I thought said 'guilt' would be a strong motivation for Bitchy to try THEIR BEST to convince Keiwa to leave the dark side. I dunno blaming Keiwa for ruining the world was Bitchy trying 'hard' to convince Keiwa to leave Jitt and Kekera? I dunno him justifying killing Sara and the other parasite victim as inevitable since they can no longer be saved was bitchy's way of expressing his remorse? I din knoe blandly saying you killed someone's sister was 'great' way to show that one was feeling guilty? Not until being almost killed by Kekera did Bitch ever admit that he was wrong/commited a grave mistake AND SAID SORRY. But apparently that was how some1 supposed to show that they're 'repenting'. Don't tell me Mich's had been reflecting on his wrong doing all these times while still acting an arrogant jerk who did no sin. Cos he sure dont look like it. Like until he accidentally 'killed' Sara and saw how devastated Keiwa was afterwards, that guy didn't seem bothered about the other kills he had committed. Before or after. Did that guy ever think about Sara when he dropped Keiwa to their death during H&H stage? Don't think so.

MichCow couldn't convince Keiwa to escape the dark side because he felt guilty abt Keiwa? You gotta be kidding me. If he was really feeling guilty, he'll do EVERYTHING he could to get Keiwa back... instead of giving up.

What a ridiculous joke. (i so need a Spanner react gifs) 😧

Ace lost his faith in humanity after observing them for that period of time.

He’s become a dispassionate arbiter of human lives.

That's just lazy writing. Like are they really saying there won't be any other humans having the same heart as Keiwa Neon Win Hotaro Rinne Spanner etc being born/designed throughout the span of those 1000 years? For the dude who insist on 'Hate the sin and not the sinner' it felt like a regression of Ace character to turn White Ace as evil. Why don't we get a goth Black Ace instead? As in white Ace starting to rot away and leaving the darkness... creating black Ace? Then THAT Ace could go evil for all I care. Or have Suel corrupt Ace from the inside. That made more sense than the whole 'become dispassionate' stuff.

Beroba even mentions in the movie that that part of him is never going away. It’s not that big of a deal.

But it DID go away post-JGP, right?

It's no big deal they said, it's minor. Yet post jyamashin onwards Mich DID act like the part of him that turn Jyamato had completely go away; not the way Daichi's Jyamato healing ability and Jyamato powers remained intact post Keiwa's wish despite losing all the other 'perks' he got from eating the fruit frm his Tree of Knowledge, but more to how Neon's and Kanato and Mario's Jyama-zombification went away post game completion. Also the very fact that this was only mentioned in this v-cine already screams retcon. Like the writing suddenly wanted to make the half jyamato thing relevent again despite forgetting about it for almost the entirety of the Yearning and Creation arc.

they can always say that continuous use of the Jyamato buckle results in a permanent physiological change that can’t be reset, only suppressed.

Thing is.... DOES Mich even use Jyama buckle THAT much to cause perma change? Was Jyama buckle on the same level of Boost Mk II in that sense? There wasn't any mention of that.

'It isn't a big deal' but isn't Jyamato Awaking about Hazuki, Haruki and to an extent Daichi and fam and the cow trying to find their place in the world despite their Jyamato side? So shouldn't the plot about Mich actually still retain his Jyama bit be treated better instead of only mentioning it when its convenient?

Like it'd made more sense if it was established that the true source of Jyamashin's power was due to the Jyama cells and not just the Goddess's powers. Also the whole Jyamashin not effective against Jyama armour n Premiums should've be explained better. Like why is it like that?

And one would've think after being turned into half Jyamato undead the guy could show some empathy/hesitance before taking down the parasite Jyamato (Like how Keiwa hesitated abt attacking Rook, even more since these are actual ppl being turn to Jyamato instead of copying the appearance of their 'fertilizers') but nah... he treat em the same with any other Jyamato. Mich still treat things black and white with the same unfeeling attitude. Heck I'd even buy the reasoning that he refused returning to society post JGP was just him self aware then he's no longer full-human and dont fit in. And not cos he's supposed to be dead. cos then the lead up to JyamaAwaking din feel cheap. But the show not doing that, did they?

Like ppl find it hard to believe how the show treat Neon's mom's change of attitude (which is actually not that much diff either) yet when that happened to Michi suddenly the drastic transition from ass to not!ass was 'believable'. For eg. Mich never really properly show how he changed from wanting ALL Kamen Riders to die/want to crush all KR (cos anyone who accepted the drivers to get the wish are inherently selfish and don't deserve to get their wishes granted) to 'I want to save them from their greed/want to protect other people's happiness. Esp when the guy spent a good part of the earlier arcs acting like it's fine if players get killed in-game by the Jyamato... showing that he DON'T care if other people die as long as he wins and gets the power to crush all KR (in which even THAT wish can also go either direction as much as Keiwa's wish to revive DGP victims can either go bad or good). And even when told that even civillians could be sacrificed despite them not chosing to get involved with the DGP, he still DID NOT CARE as long as he can win his game. Heck, Ace could've gone to help Keiwa reach Sara during the Saboten second run but Mich care more about stealing Ninja away so he can be hero instead. (and cos of that Sara was taken) Is THAT the action of a guy who cared about protecting other people happiness from the start?

So they really believe Mich was so caring about other people's innocent lives (aside frm taking revenge for Tohru) from the very beginning? Since when did Mich cared about other ppl's happiness early on?

It's also jarring to see cow go from thinking that killing Ace was what gonna solve all the problems to 'I believe in Ace' stance. Like since WHEN did he believed that? If he really believed in Ace, Mich should also had faith in Ace who still believed in Keiwa and TRUST that there still good in Keiwa enough that he seriously want to SAVE K-chan. If he really believed in Ace, he wouldn't complain abt why Neon got her core id back despite how he already destroyed it (like some sore loser feeling bitter that Ace didn't only care about him but also care a lot about Keiwa, Neon, Win, Daichi, etc)

Daichi's redemption was at least done slightly better than 'sweep under the rug' bullshit redemption. (As in Daichi taking responsibility in taking care of the Jyamato he helped cultivate post series.) And tat's even without us knowing why Daichi obsess about having all knowledge aside frm being a trivia king.

Lel i rant so much to the point i dunno if I make sense anymore.

Michi acting like he had tons of empathy now and can unabashedly go huggy wuggy felt OOC just like it was weird seeing Kusaka being actual nice to innocent Orphnoch kids.

[guzsdaily]

Stopping the domino effect

Day 1 - Nov 06, 12.023

Well, I think it is the first time I am starting something without a burst of motivation or inspiration out of nowhere. This is day 1 of hopefully what will be a series of notes, posts, whatever it ends up being public or not, that you can call a daily journal or blog. I wouldn't expect too much to be honest, just writing some concepts or thoughts in something more structured like a blog post sometimes helps you to better understand yourself and what you're doing with your life, I think.

I have to give some credits also to Hunter Peterson, which recently started making daily vlogs of his process of creating a movie, and it inspired me to make this. Not only that, but I actually tried recording a video blog of my own, which for me is kinda difficult and/or consumes a lot of time of my day. So this is the "minimal viable product or way" to do something daily.

---

This is being written after what is probably two months of pure... nothing, mostly. Two months ago, I was coding a project which I thought would last no more than a week or so - at least the minimal viable product wouldn't take that long, right? - And there I was after a month of working from probably what as from 8am to 8pm daily, in a project which was losing its meaning and purpose. And if you're a developer and are wondering what project it was, it was a fucking ESLint config package, with some CLI for automatically detecting what configs to apply. Because of it, I ended up having what I would call a burnout.

I didn't want to write any code for some time, I wasn't able to correctly think of solutions to problems and was just tired of coding every day without doing anything more. So I gave myself a week of resting - yes, I know that it is a lot of time to rest, but at the time of writing, I am self-employed, or at least I was trying to be and balancing work, life, health, etc. is a lot more difficult than I thought. - And then the domino effect started.

The first domino piece

For context: In a week, I'm going to be 19 years old at the time of writing, and finished school/college last year. This year I tried to go a self-employed route with creating apps and open-source projects, it didn't work so much.

I have anxiety and insecurity, and even not being at a high level and going to therapy on a somewhat consistent rate, it still affects my life on a significant level. And is a lot harder to rest when your mind simply does not stop thinking about things and worrying yourself.

In said week of resting, I started to think and worry a lot about my future. Things such as: It is almost ending the year, and you made nothing and not a single dollar; you're consuming your parents' money, they already spent a lot of time and money in you; You need to start doing something to be able to have an apartment soon; Your girlfriend soon also leaves school, you need to have a house until then; If you don't have any finished projects, how you will find a job? You don't have a degree; You need to start doing something!

I don't have to say that it is kinda hard to actually rest in this situation. And unfortunately it also affected my girlfriend was trying to help me how she could to make me worry less and be able to rest. With that one week ended up being two, three weeks without returning to my normal routine. Thankfully, I wasn't having anxiety or insecurity attacks anymore, but was still felling somewhat tired and having excuses or simply being unable to work after such days. And with our dating anniversary coming, I had to make something special to thank her, so another week passed.

Being lost and the illusion of being comfortable

So what was I doing instead in this period? To be honest with you, it's not easy to answer this. Normally I note everything that is done daily, but in these days Obisdian (my note-taking app) wasn't even opened. I was trying to draw sometimes, without a lot of success; Creating some resourcepacks and modpacks to use in Minecraft; Seeing a lot of videos daily, at the point that I re-watched some of them; And probably just playing video games or trying to. And even if it was just it, I wouldn't be so bad about it, most of them are hobbies that I like to do, but being clear with myself, I was most of the time actually tinkering with configs or trying to find something to do. Instead of drawing I was trying to fix my tablet compatibility with linux; Instead of playing Minecraft and creating art, I was creating things that I ended up not using; Instead of watching some new videos, I was re-watching old ones trying to find something interesting; Instead of playing video games and making progress, I was playing everything in "creative mode" without any actual creative mode; I was tinkering to make a game work in linux, and ended up never playing it.

Seeing now, I was lost and trying to find some type of purpose or something to create.

And the worst part, it wasn't obvious, for me, I was resting. I knew that I needed to do something soon, but wasn't actually pushing myself to do something, and why be so hard on myself, I was at least creating other more creative things, right? Having an illusion of being comfortable is not good when you look in retrospect.

Trying to break the domino line

After what was probably six or seven weeks, a similar anxiety and a feeling of "enough" started to happen. It is difficult to explain, but in the same way I started to feel tired of working on that ESLint config project, I started to have now related to this comfortable state. While I was always thinking that I needed to return to a routine, now every day I had the actual feeling of not knowing what to do and of not being able to start something.

As the days came closer to today, I started to do things to be outside this comfortable zone. With the influence of some videos, I had the idea of reinstalling my OS, wipe everything in my computer and start creating a workspace made for myself and myself only. If you know Linux and/or programming, you probably will know better what I'm talking about on this section. I started to use a tiling window manager (Hyprland), started to configure Neovim and Tmux to be more productive, and started to create a small system in bash which can switch what type of workspace, theme, etc. my OS is in with just a command in the terminal.

But it wasn't enough, because this motivation to create a workspace also started to burn somewhat easily, and I didn't have organized or listed what I wanted in this workspace. And I started to tinkering with my home server, again just trying to find something to do, but without success on what I was trying to tinker the workspace returned to be my focus.

But some domino pieces still were falling, like: not knowing what I wanted in Neovim; banging my head because of a misspelled letter in the configuration files; my girlfriend being sick, so I wanted to spend more time and attention with her; losing part of said files because I still don't know how to use Git correctly; Being "tired" and ending up having a small addiction in some games; And, even when I was going to write this post, I spelled my coffee over the table, which I almost ended up screaming of stress because of this "trigger".

Not knowing if the line will break

As you can see by the last section and this tittle, I'm not yet in the best of myself. The reason I started got my laptop out of nowhere to go on my house courtyard and wrote this post was because I needed somewhere to reflect on myself. I can't promise that it will continue, but this remembered me how good it is to write and tell a story, so I will try.

The future to me is still unclear, but probably finding a job would be good to me, having something that can force me to do something daily could help when I need to return to a routine. And have actual money at the end of the month would be excellent y'know. Finding communities would also improve reaching this goal, knowing how my job market is these years after the pandemic, networking can boost a lot, and having friends and people which I can actually discuss programming would be great.

I have to admit that finding an actual job wasn't in my plans so earlier, but self-employment is not working now days, and I can always try again in the future. I'm finally thinking what can be my objective in life to drive me to the future and help me focus every day, but that is probably a talk for tomorrow.

Like I said in a post some weeks ago, sometimes you don't need to return with an explosion behind you and sunglasses. Small pieces can affect a lot with enough time, for good or for bad. And hopefully, I'm placing good pieces now.

Today's artists & creative things

This is stolen from Hunter's vlogs, where he shares a book or album/music for the day, and it is cool, so why not?

Music: Instead of an album, I think it's best to recommend the artists itself today - Scatolove. - They are a Brazilian couple which my girlfriend recently recommended and I cannot stop listening. I can't easily explain what music style hey have, for me, it is sweet but also goes very hard in a lot of songs, it is unique but also similar enough to the music styles that I like, which is: if there's an electric guitar solo, I like it. My favorites of their songs would be: Rapunzel, the guitar at 0:30 really got me the first time I listened to it; Inbox and Terminal, both because they remember me and my girlfriend together, primarily Inbox is a favorite because of how hard it goes and feels.

Copyright (c) 2023-present Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello \<contact.guz013@gmail.com>

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0) License