#realized i never had to make it linear to begin with

[thatwishfulthinking]

a wretched flower

my last one shot skipped viktor giving head… rest assured that is not something i plan to let happen often… and here, neither do you

wc: 3.5k

summary: after years of avoiding his feelings for you, viktor has finally turned a corner— though you’re still unsure if he’ll stumble back into the bear trap of all-consuming work. not too keen on neglect, you decide to make sure he’s sticking to the right track. newly established relationship. f!reader

warnings: smut, desperation, dirty talk, choking

btw— i kind of have no idea what’s going on here. dom!vik, sub!vik, then angst, then metaphors, then clichés, then more sub!vik, and straight smut, and a little fluff? idk this has been making me insane for like a month

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clothes are left in a trail, leading from the living room into the bedroom. You're both on the bed, limbs tangled as you cling to each other. He's whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Things, of course, you’d have appreciated to hear scattered across the day instead of sewn together and adhered to one single moment.

It was a reality that you hoped for at the beginning of your relationship, only to soon declaw each finger from, one at a time, until you let it go. After yet another dinner at your kitchen island alone, accompanied by the somber tap of an expectant fork, heating up the remenants for a stony soul when he finally decided to cross through the front door. Things had been better; you basked in his attention for some time. It was only recently that he had backslid into the same depths that pooled at the most tormented part of your mind. 

Improvement wasn’t linear, of course, but god, could the ebbs and flows of it all be nothing less than excruciating. A garden, tended to and watered, would not continue to flourish if suddenly neglected. And oh, were you in trouble if came winter’s first frost. 

He moans softly, his hips thrusting upwards to meet yours, nipping at your earlobe. "I could do this with you for the rest of my life, and it would never be enough." His kiss is stinging with the sweet affection you’ve sought for fruitlessly for days now.

You grab his hips and needily move them faster for him. You knew he wouldn’t last this way, and the dichotomy of not wanting it to be over and desperately needing to take what you could, in the fleeting moments you had it, festered low in your abdomen. 

Another moan is blooming on his lips, and you register it in blissful slow motion. "You're so impatient, my sweet girl.” It’s a breathless, low sound, reverberating light into that dark place in your brain. He relents, his hips snapping with intensity. "Like this?" he groans, the bulb in his throat tremoring deliciously as it his voice travels up his esophagus in offering.

“My sweet boy” you whine back insistently at the use of the name: The very phrase he had decided to comandeer, your favorite endearment for him. Shame on you for sharing it with him, because the cheeky thing loved it so much that he was compelled to make it yours instead. You wrench his hand off of your waist, placing it on your neck. 

The sly smirk that plays on his face is one of prideful understanding at your nonverbal prompt. He grips your throat gently, his hand wrapping around the eloquent column as he applies a slight pressure. His gaze is one of communication, searching, silently asking, Is this what you wanted?

“Harder, love,” you declare, because after ample days of not enough, too much was more than welcome.

A tightening feeling at your trachea. The intentional shift of his position. The subsequent heightening the speed of his movements, it all hits you like three successive strikes. “This okay?" he asks, his breathing ragged but his voice weighted by feathers as he monitors your reaction. 

He leans in, hand brushing over your cheek as he were thumbing layers of dust off a forgotten bookshelf. "Look me in the eyes," he commands gently, and you realize that as your face twisted and contorted under his, he had been absorbing the tiny details that spoke to something else battering at you. A somber note between syllables of your words, the very corner of your mouth, where your lips discolored at the transition to skin, curling downwards ever so slightly. Subtle, but there all the same.

When you meet his eyes, he settles at a conclusion to the very research he had been conducting from aereal view. He presents a hopeful, apologetic solution— it pains him to think of all the time you’ve spent utterly hollowed by his absense. 

"No matter how busy I might be, you're always on my mind.”

The reassurance swaths across your collarbones, fizzling out delightfully somewhere at the peaks of your shoulders. A sharp grin appears across your face. “I know it’s worse now.” A calculatedly vague statement, of course, baiting him. 

He furrows his brow, slightly concerned by the change in your demeanor, and oh, the poor thing falls into your trap. "What are you talking about, love? What do you mean it’s worse now?" he asks softly, releasing your neck and letting tentative fingers pass across your brow, pinky pressed to your temple.

You laugh mischievously— he was completely correct in his sentiment, and for this you were well aware. 

“You couldn’t stop thinking of me… compromised, before,” you grab his neck instead, causing his jaw to jerk forwards. “But now that you’ve had me, you need me. You need this, love, and now it’s even harder to wander from because you know exactly what it’s like.”

His eyes widen, mystefying golden caches that you’d love to curl up inside of. His bleached clavicle warms with something that resembles sun kisses, washed with a soft flush. 

He swallows hard, his gaze locked with yours. “That is something I cannot deny,” he admits, almost solemnly, eyes pacing back and forth pensively to find the subtext. "You're right. It's harder now. The lab, the separation, it is… challenging.”

You purse your lips, still holding a bit of teasing bregrudgement. “Tell me you love it then, Viktor. Speak to me, for god’s sake, forget all the pleasant—“

"Your pussy is divine," he cuts you off, the words rolling off his tongue, and it’s almost without second thought. Someone so pretty uttering such filthy words like a confession is a sight to behold, and your breath catches abruptly.

You bring a hand to his face, and he closes his eyes, his exhales growing stronger at the thought, offering more. “I dream of it, fantasize about it, obsess over it. I stare at the chalkboard and try to conjure up the taste of it in my mouth." 

“You must be parched,” and you sigh passively, as if isn’t the most seductive statement his eardrums could manage with currently.

His eyes fly open and he groans loudly, heat coursing through his body. You can feel the boiling froth in his stomach seeping through his skin into yours where you lie against one another. How enjoyable it is to peer at him now, avoiding eye contact, staring up at the cieling and squeezing his eyes closed in heavy blinks.

“You’ve been rude, baby.” You tut.

His chest swells with a large inhale before slowly looking down at you once again, raising an eyebrow. You can’t miss the immistakeble hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Have I? And what did I do exactly?”

He leans in closer, his hand trailing up the side of your leg, pressing a thumb into the dip below the jut of your hipbone. "I'd hate to think I've offended you, love."

”I’ve just noticed,” you lift your chin and angle it upwards towards him. “You skipped what you claim to crave.”

“Sounds like a terrible oversight on my part." He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with playful corruption. 

He leans in, lips ghosting against yours, amber irises bleeding into one another centimeters from your eyes. A painting set to still, knocked sideways by the soft underbelly of your spite, just before it could dry. 

"Allow me to rectify that," he whispers, before gently placing a kiss on your collarbone, starting his descent.

You’re shaking your head as you watch him move towards your legs. ”I don’t know, I can’t help but think you don’t appreciate it.” Appreciate me. “Is that it?” You tease, feigning mock sadness, the real version holding real space in the real lonely moments you’ve endured without him lately.

He looks up at you in an emotion so passionate it may be offense. “Love,” he murmers, his voice low, now swinging his head back and forth as well. "You know that simply isn’t true. Don't make the mistake of doubting that." He’s nudging your legs apart, and the sick, scorned thing in your mind jumps at the opportunity to interject.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you.” You grab his chin, pulling it away from where his face has become situated between your thighs so he looks up at you. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you discover what it tastes like after the fact. You think you deserve that, hmm?”

He stills, and his brows furrow in dismay. You swear you see his lips beginning to tremble. "No, please," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. He sucks his cheeks in and bites, creating a pronouced hollow on either side of his slim face.

You scan his expression, completely enthralled in the fact that you’ve never seen him do that before, but he’s still trying his best at persuasion. “Please, I want to taste us, together. I do.”

You nod, acknowledging his plea, your grip on him firming slightly, fingertips pinching and propping him up by the jaw, snared like a spider’s catch. “You forgot all about it, my sweet boy. I can’t help but think you’ve been negligent, and just started fucking me. That doesn’t seem fair,” you tut once again.

He whimpers, his body trembling without inhibition now. "I'm sorry," he chokes, his voice ragged, spitting out fragments, as if otherwise he would be forced to swallow splinters chipped from feeble teeth. “Never that. I couldn’t forget. I simply lost track of my thoughts. I got carried away, I got distracted, I’m sorry." 

It may be a bit deranged, but you see yourself frolicking around, victorious, in your mind’s eye. There, you are clutching his reassurance— though product of an entirely different conversation— in a tight, delighted fist. Despite it all, your expression remains stoic.

"Please, just one taste. Just let me have one." There’s a low urgency in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

You spread your legs wider, immediately yanking his chin back up away from you as he tries to drive for a lick. His neck is now rendered taught again, poised back up towards you from your own manipulation. “I think that’s disingenuous, love. I think you know that one taste isn’t enough for either of us.”

He moans in frustration that somehow he’s saying all the wrong things, scrambling for any words that will earn clemecy. You can see the gears turning, conjuring up a response— another of which, you know, and perhaps he does too, that you will easily meet with the tortourous fortress of your acidity. “You're right," he gasps hopelessly, giving in, and he makes sure to echo himself over and over. 

“Repetition doesn’t denote sincerity.” You patronize, to which you can nearly see beads of sweat born above his brow. He buries his face into your inner thigh, shameful, disheartened. 

“I want you to look,” you say, your grip loosening, allowing his neck to relax, throwing a leg over his shoulder, a coaxing heel following the path of his spine up and down.

Arousal spattered across your thighs, parted and reddened from him fucking you. Swelling like a flower at daybreak. He desperately wants to put his tongue where his cock had just been and—

You cut his thoughts off. “Why did you sabotage yourself, my love?”

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and bewildered. "Sabotage myself, darling?" he murmurs, his voice dragging with grief. "I don’t understand. What do you mean I sabotaged myself?"

You give him a stern look, heel settling against vertebrae for a moment while you readjust your expression. “Is it not my responsibility to make sure you take care of yourself? That you don’t starve yourself of your wants, of your needs? I forbid that. Though your actions suggest that this isn’t something you need.” You draw a jagged inhale.

“Or rather, that I am not.” 

And the bitter words finally find soil to take root here, stretching upwards and outwards, a wretched flower themselves.

He shakes his head vehemently, his eyes clouding with the pain of finally understanding. “No, please, don’t say that.”

You break, reverting back to the discouraged version of yourself that you’ve had to be for weeks, and you’re gazing at one another, palms stretched outwards, showing your hand, each card a compliment to the other’s misfortune.

“Do you doubt what I feel for you?” And he says it as if he fears the letters that comprise the words themselves. 

“No,” you say meekly, and his nose wrinkles slightly, not entirely convinced.

“It—“ he sucks in a sharp breath. “Consumes me while I’m away. You. I’m never without you in thought, you need to know that. Please, I can’t have you thinking otherwise. You don’t understand, I used to sleep in the lab, because that was what would consume me, but now, every night, I come back. I come back to you. I know it isn’t much, but come back.” His eyes search yours with a wildness to be heard. 

You swallow at the guilty knot of bile in your throat, tear ducts miraculously stirring awake for duty.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right,” There it is again. “It has been worse lately— thinking of you, in all regards. Just as my absence has worse. It’s ignorant for me to think that simply picturing you is enough. I know it isn’t. I need to be present, I need to just be with you.”

Here he is, Viktor, taking a sledgehammer to those walls, the ones you didn’t use mortar to build because you hoped that he would knock through them in the first place. Here he is, Viktor, crushing that wretched flower under the sole of a worn dress shoe, hurrying it into a paper bag which he takes to the lab and promptly incinerates so that its pollen is to never spread again. 

His gaze softens, thankful, when he observes that the downwards draw of your lips, where they discolor at the transition to skin, have pulled back to equilibrium. Subtle, but still there all the same. He takes another breath, now slow, much more assured. 

“And I will be, just, please.” 

You give him a weak nod, you find no skepticism for what he’s saying, and so, you take him up on his offer, you do not speak, you just be.

You sigh softly as he presses his chin to your mound, looking back up at you with adoration in his eyes, rubbing your thighs and sides and pulling your legs apart, before pressing a soft kiss to your clit. His eyes shine with desperation, one that lusters with the earnest need to convince. “Now, may I?”

A bashful smile is what he gets, a hand cupping his face, which is the most you can give while all of the solitude-driven uncertainty dissipates from your soul.

He pushes your legs apart, settling between them, his mouth hovering over your folds, bathing it in warm, billowing breaths. He plants soft kisses against your clit.

You grab desperately for a fistful of his hair. 

He gasps, his mouth already parted, tongue lolling, desperation turning into something much deeper. His tongue is hot, the suction of his mouth nearly unbearable, he’s being sloppy, abandoning his practiced nature simply for this.

He pauses and looks at you, his eyes locking with yours, his breaths coming in sharp pants against you. "I need you," he shudders, his voice ragged, bearing the weight of deeper meaning. 

There’s something so endearing about stopping what he’s doing to ask for more when he could just continue and take it for himself, but god, he’s worked himself up now, your foot twitching against his back. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, and he stops abruptly mid stroke, tongue out and glued to you, massive needy eyes, hazy with both sickening lust and pleading awe. You stroke his temple with your knuckle, murmuring his name breathlessly, and letting out a strangled cry as he cages his arms around your legs and pulls you up to his face, the back of your thighs locked against his collarbones, simultaneously held up and pinned down under his lips. The sensation of fabric tugging under your spine catches your attention, your gaze moving to angular shoulders, down his back, decorated with quaint little moles. You jump from one point to the next, where you rediscover the dimples at the base of his spine, just above where he’s moving his hips in slow, uncoordinated circles against the sheets. Hands, satisfied with how your thighs have found balance on his shoulders, shift, thumbs coming to massage where your skin meets your core, pulling it apart softly so he can lick his own whimpers into you, nose nudging at the underside of your clit.

Utterly helpless, the two of you, as you tug and chocolate tendrils and every muscle, every tendon, every capillary goes stiff. 

He moans, his hands grabbing at your thighs and pulling you even closer, giving you no escape. He's panting and sweaty, hair stuck to his brow, ears slightly flushed. It’s just about the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Please love," he whines, his voice ragged and urgent, “Please, love, please come. I need it. I need to.”

His face nods rapidly as he speaks into our flesh, and you cry out, his tongue lapping now with a preciseness to cultivate your orgasm and care for it like it’s precious. And your body feels like it’s accelerating, through all the seasons, the biting of winter in the jolts of adrenaline coursing in between your thighs, the mugginess of summer in his hot tastebuds. His dark eyelashes flutter like birds migrating, and his noises are like the groan of an old tree’s branches resisting torrential rain. His eyes are as captivating as golden hour, the sun begging you to follow it down the edge of the earth so that it can illuminate you all over again at the next hemisphere, pleading that you come with him. So you do. Hard, and he follows suit, straight into the duvet.

You’re stretching for him, reaching out and staring until your hands wrap around his shoulders and you inadvertently dig your fingers into his armpits, pulling him up on top of you and holding his waist with your thighs. He nuzzles into your neck, bracing a few moments too late for the shockwave. Your stroke his hair and tell him it’s okay, and you nearly want to sob, trembling against one another, willing your nervous system to still. And he nods into your throat, soothing you back, clutching at you tightly, whispering it’s okay back to you softly.

He grounds you without thinking or trying, just being, adorning your neck with tender kisses. You kiss his temple back, tilting your chin down against your throat to look at him as he draws his head to the side to peer back up at you. And you’re faintly aware that the angle of your face is abysmal, probably, but you don’t care.

“Are you okay?” You both ask, simultaneously, and your arms tighten around him affectionately.

You both chuckle when you speak at the same time, and it’s such a silly, wonderful thing, a small, soft smile budding on his lips. He’s so still, simply watching you, like you’ve just watered his soul. 

“Love…?”

“Yes, my sweet?” You whisper quietly, pecking his nose.

He shushes you softly, presses a finger against your lips. “Let me. Let me tell you…” 

You laugh at whatever strange force has corralled you two into pleasant delirium.

“Tell me.. what?” You murmur.

He whispers, slowly bringing himself up onto his elbows, his breath warm against your cheek, “Everything.. just...” he trails off and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You rub his temples gently with your thumbs, fingers stretching over his ears and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know, love. You know that I know,” you coo. You let out a bashful, affectionate giggle as he rolls to the side, bringing you, your legs, still twined around him, with you. You kiss his mouth softly, then the spot between his eyebrows. “Do you know? That I also feel.. everything?”

“Yes… I do,” he sighs, and his eyes close, grazing the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of yours. It’s all so nonsensical, but the mutual understanding prevails.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t even attempt to find the words” You whisper, feeling some gravitational force pull your face right into his neck.

He nods, his hand coming up to swipe your hair out of the way, exposing the flesh of your shoulder, and he kisses you there, trailing kisses across your collarbone.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, just one last time.

You copy him, kissing his collarbone back, then his shoulder. He kisses your pulse point, so you do the same. When his lips land on your nose, it only takes a few seconds after they retract for yours to find his. And you continue this little exchange, the only language you need, back and forth, until drowsiness retires the two of you for the night. In your dreams, you weed out vines and thorny stems with gloveless fingers, vowing to only let the good things to grow.

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

What Writing Taught Me About Dealing With Grief

Grief isn’t poetic. It doesn’t arrive in neat metaphors or with a sorrowful violin humming in the background. It crashes in like an avalanche, sudden and all-consuming, stripping everything bare, leaving behind a silence so loud it drowns out the rest of the world.

For a long time, I avoided confronting my grief. I buried it beneath distractions, hoping that by creating a distance between myself and the weight of my emotions, I could suffocate it beneath the noise. However, grief doesn’t remain buried; it waits, lingering in the pause between breaths and the hollow feeling of a familiar place missing a familiar presence. It transforms absence into something alive, something with teeth. Writing didn’t exactly "rescue me;" it didn't dissolve that ache or provide closure in some revelatory conclusion...

It simply offered me a means to confront my grief on my own terms, allowing me to express all the words I had suppressed and lay them out openly. Writing enabled me to say, “Not today,” and on some days, that was enough.

Grief Demands to Be Heard

Now if you don't know, grief isn’t a patient process. It doesn’t fade away like some old wound; it shatters your world, breaks you down, and intrudes abruptly into the midst of our 'carefully constructed' lives. It never cares about the timing or whether you have things to attend, responsibilities to fulfill, or if you believe you’ve already found peace with it.

I spent years trying to drown out the pain by filling my days with the usual suspects; trying to numb the edges with distractions, hoping that if I kept moving fast enough, it wouldn’t catch up. However, writing forced me to come to a halt. People often talk about “processing” grief as if it’s a tidy, linear process, like filing paperwork in a system designed to manage emotions effectively. But writing grief is not like that. It’s not some elegant unraveling of pain that leads to understanding. Instead, it’s more like sitting across from it at a table, staring into something vast and untamed, and asking, “What do you want from me?”

Writing doesn’t diminish grief or soften its sharpness. However, it provides it with a tangible form—something I can grasp, scrutinize, and illuminate. And occasionally, making it visible becomes sufficient to prevent it from consuming me entirely.

You Can’t Control Grief—Or the Words

Grief is a spectrum of unpredictable, unstructured emotions that forgo common simplifications. This isn't about refining chaos; it’s about giving it a space to exist beyond your own mind. If you don’t allow it to do so, it will continue to grow and consume you. And the worst part? Grief does these things in a way that mirror your own; it's when I put those words on the page, I regain some of my power. I can see grief for what it really is—distorted reflections of my pain, not my reality.

Which is why through my characters, I hope to challenge this idea. I wanna write individuals who have been shattered yet rise above their struggles. I want to portray people who grieve, rage, and fall apart, yet they endure and don’t succumb to the overwhelming weight of their sorrow. By writing about their survival, I hope to find solace in remembering my own resilience.

Writing about your grief is an act of defiance. It's standing in the aftermath of something intended to shatter you and asserting, “I am still here.” Serving as a testament that grief does not have the final say in the narrative’s conclusion.

Grief lies, but writing tells my truth.

There’s No Moving On—Only Moving Forward

No one ever tells you that closure is a myth. It’s a comforting notion people utter to make grief appear manageable, a concept with a clear beginning and end. However, grief doesn’t simply fade away. It doesn’t transform into a faint echo in the distance. Instead, it undergoes transformations, adopting new forms, yet it never truly vanishes. This realization has taught me that the objective isn’t to “move on.” Instead, it’s to keep moving forward.

Grief isn’t a temporary phase; it’s a lasting chapter that shapes the rest of your life. You don’t simply leave it behind; you learn to carry it with you. And that’s not a sign of failure; it’s a testament to survival. Writing gives the weight of my grief a purpose. It transforms what would otherwise feel heavy, directionless, and overwhelming into something tangible. It doesn’t erase the loss, but it transforms it into something that doesn’t merely hold me back; it propels me forward.

A Letter to Grief

If you’ve never done it, try writing a letter to your grief. Not the polite kind, but the raw and unfiltered one. Express your anger, your exhaustion, and your sorrow. Even acknowledge the reluctant gratitude, even though you don’t want to. Because here’s the truth: grief doesn’t get to dictate the outcome. You do.

Writing Is Defiance

Grief is relentless. It seeps into the spaces left behind, into the places where something once was, and it dares you to believe there is nothing left worth salvaging. But every time you write, you push back. You reclaim a part of yourself from the silence. Writing about grief isn’t about solving it.

It’s about revealing what’s real—that grief will be quite unbearable, yet within that, it's still survivable. That it's something you carry, not something that defines you. Writing itself didn’t heal me, no, but it gave me clarity. It reminded me that even in thosr moments when your grief is the loudest thing in the room; there is impact amongst our encounters as human and we're left to express what our predecessors couldn't say.

So write your grief. Let it be raw, untamed, unfiltered. Spill it onto the page without worrying about making it neat. And when you’re done, step back and remember this: You are still here. You are still standing. Grief doesn’t get to take over you.

[prettyiwa]

🍉 Fics for Gaza — Sponsor a WIP 🍉

Hello, everybody! I'm honestly not sure how this will go, if at all, but I want to participate in the fundraising efforts of @ficsforgaza. Lately, I've been focused solely on projects that bring me joy regardless of readership and so for this, I'll be opening up all of my WIPs, including those not listed on my official WIP page but previously mentioned on this blog. For this fundraiser, I'm committing to returning to those old projects that have been unceremoniously left in the dust.

I'm committing to this undertaking with the hopes that one of my projects will encourage donations if they weren't previously inclined or were on the fence.

Raised: $91.39 Written/Sponsored: 3.443/18,278

How it works:

$1 = 200 words!

Make a donation to a vetted fundraiser of your choice (links below) and send me a screenshot of your donation excluding identifying information + the WIP you'd like me to work on. For every $1 donated, I will write 200 words for your chosen WIP. Upon receiving proof of donation, I will begin working on the WIP.

*Please note I am currently trudging through burnout and writer's block, so I cannot guarantee a timeline, but they will be completed.

Example message template:

Hey, Ix! I've donated [this amount] to [link to vetted fundraiser]. Would you be able to work on [WIP title]? Thank you! (Included screenshot of proof of donation)

Vetted fundraiser links:

Vetted fundraiser masterpost-masterpost

List of Palestinian Evacuation & Support Fundraisers

Masterlist of links, official & vetted

how you can help palestine

Eligible WIPs:

Because the list of WIPs included is so long, they'll be listed below the cut. Fandoms included: Daiya no Ace, Haikyuu!!, Attack on Titan, Fullmetal Alchemist, & My Hero Academia.

Daiya no Ace

The Catcher's Accomplice - Miyuki Kazuya Major Leagues, Interpreter, Forced Proximity (Belated Quarantine Fic), Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff

When Kazuya insisted he be posted for the MLB, he wasn't quite aware of all that entailed, only concerned with being able to continue playing. He didn't fully anticipate the sheer loneliness of moving to a different country, especially just before a pandemic. How lucky for him that you're there every step of the way.

word count: 4,591/20,000+

Promises We Made - Miyuki Kazuya Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates (if you squint), Expression of Grief, Anxiety, & Depression

He existed as a beacon for you—someone who had been there since before you can remember, someone who always found you when you got lost. All you wanted was to be able to stand on your own two feet beside him.

word count: 14,119/50,000+

His Name - Miyuki Kazuya Non-Linear Storytelling, Falling in Love, Break-up Fic, Angst, Hints of Pining & Regret

Kazuya never realized how much he loved the way his name sounded as it rolled of your tongue, a promise he didn't hear until it was too late.

word count: 1,593/6,000

not a stranger - Sawamura Eijun Younger Brother's Best Friend, Childhood Crush, Childhood Friends to Lovers

Fifteen years after he used to announce to the world, "I'm going to marry you one day!," he no longer looks like the Ei-chan you once knew.

word count: 3,548/12,000 FULLY SPONSORED!! written: 261/10,000

Play with Me - Kuramochi Youichi NPB, Bassist, One Night Stand to Lovers, Falling in Love, Shared History, Fluff, Suggestive

The story of you and Kuramochi Youichi goes further than the night he finds himself in the audience of your show, but it takes you a while before you acknowledge that.

word count: 339/7,500

Chink in My Armor - Kominato Ryousuke University!AU, FWB, Jealousy, Stubborn Ryou, Getting Together, Suggestive

For someone who "didn't have the time to focus on a relationship," Ryou spends an awful lot of time focusing on you.

word count: 273/5,500

Wanna Run with You - Yuuki Tetsuya University!AU, Friends to Lovers, Old Crush, Reunion, Falling in Love, Fluff

A favor for your new editor puts you in contact with your old friend and crush, someone you fervently wanted to avoid. Now that Tetsu has you in his life again, he isn't so ready to let you go this time.

word count: 6,513/9,500

Haikyuu!!

Mine to Keep - Iwaizumi Hajime Yakuza, Fight Club, Violence, Light Stalking & Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Smut

Iwaizumi's taken his time with you, preferring you willing and wanting, but there's only so much waiting he can do before he snaps.

*requires editing so the word count may vary.

word count: 11,717/15,000* sponsored word count: 1,000 written: 1,000/1,000

Always You - Iwaizumi Hajime Fallen Angel, Demon, Memory Loss, Reincarnation, Angst, Love Perseveres

You two were favored angels, models for how others should perform until you made the grave sin of loving more than your Creator. For your crime, you were doomed to loving one another time and again through never ending reincarnation, forever watching the other suffer and die.

word count: 2,378/6,000 sponsored word count: 1,278 written: 1,278/1,278

Coming Home - Iwaizumi Hajime Punisher!AU, Grief, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to ??? to Lovers

After your mother died, you never expected to find comfort in the return of the friend you long since thought dead.

word count: 1,524/6,500

Late Nights - Iwaizumi Hajime University!AU, Pining, Getting Together

In the cover of night near the university baseball diamonds, Iwaizumi finds the courage to talk to you.

word count: 328/3,000 **FULLY SPONSORED! written: 904/3,000

Maker of Myths - Oikawa Tooru Trojan War!AU, Paris & Helen, Falling in Love, War, Infidelity, Grief, Angst

The first choice you ever made was which suitor would be your husband, the King. The second choice you made allowed for you to choose your lover, your partner. The third choice you made started a war.

word count: 4,860/13,000+

This Tree, This Bed - Kuroo Tetsurou Odyssey!AU, Odysseus & Penelope, Falling in Love, Separation, Reunion, Hurt/Comfort

Kuroo liked to fashion himself as one of the smartest men in the known world. While his cunning managed to win your hand and your heart, it was unable to save him from going into a war unrelated to him.

word count: 3,215/7,500

Anxious, Wide Awake - Kuroo Tetsurou Magic & Monsters!AU, Vampire, Sorceress, Witcher inspired, Violence, Blood, Established Relationship

The more they touch you, the more their stench sticks to you, the more violent their deaths will be when he comes for you. Because he is coming for you. You have more faith in that fact than you do that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. His promise can still be heard nearly a century later, still humming along the skin where he first whispered it. He’s coming.

word count: 4,353/10,000

Please Look at Me - Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei Love Triangle, Not Polyamorous, Smut, Getting Together, Angst

“Is it okay if I have a taste?” Don’t you kids do anything I wouldn’t do. Takahiro’s seen Mattsun do a lot. He’s seen Mattsun in so many compromising situations throughout the years, he’s given up on keeping count long ago. And this? This is definitely something Mattsun would do.

word count: 867/6,000

Rosebuds & Black Currant - Futakuchi Kenji Strangers to (eventual) Lovers, Falling in Love, Getting Together, Fluff

It takes you entirely too long to understand the messages Kenji's been trying to send through the arrangements he gives you if only because you don't believe he's familiar with the language of flowers.

word count: 188/3,500

Attack on Titan

Rapture for the Sinners - Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman Canon Divergent, Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Grief, PTSD, Smut

Fiercely loyal to Erwin Smith, you find yourself to be one of his most trusted soldiers, ready to do what is necessary for either of you to get what you want. With no room for romantic relationships, you two easily find yourselves engaged in a sexual relationship. Why do you suddenly find your situation muddled when you're tasked with bringing three thugs from the Underground to the Survey Corps? What happens when you suddenly find yourself developing feelings for the one you were prepared to kill and who was prepared to kill you in turn?

word count: 103,168/170,000+ sponsored word count: 2,000 written: 0/2,000

For You, in the Future - Bertholdt Hoover, Levi Ackerman VOV Rewrite, Canon Divergent, Tech Advancements, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Political Intrigue, Grief, PTSD, Love Perseveres

An attempt at a rewrite of my first story. I've worked on it in secret over the winter and could be swayed to starting it once more.

word count: 7,601/150,000+

Fullmetal Alchemist

From the Ashes Flowers Bloom - Roy Mustang Canon Divergent, Violence, Religious Guilt, Subterfuge, Exes to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

You've spent the last four years avoiding staying in one place for too long due to the belief in the superstitions of your mother's religion. After the murder of your adoptive brother, you begin to learn the truth of the larger conspiracy that's left a pile of bodies wherever you go. Deciding to confront the root of the problem head-on, you find yourself reforging old relationships, for better or for worse.

word count: 43,580/80,000+

My Hero Academia

Set You Free - Aizawa Shouta Pre-UA Teacher!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Grief, Getting Together

An unfortunate quirk, bad timing, and grief-induced anger tied you to Aizawa years after the death of Shirakumo. He wanted to be a hero, and it takes him a bit too long to realize he may have ruined yours.

word count: 2,256/6,500

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Hi! I wanted to let you know that one of your doodles on Patreon (the one that's thanking for voting in the poll) inspired me to create an entire AU! And since you're the reason this AU exists, I thought I'd let you get a sneak-peak at the story~ And you can post this, if you'd like, I'm not shy! XD

(This is the first draft of the beginning to the entire fic!)

-

Bill let out a soft sigh as he moved the mop back and forth across the floor, one side of the hallway to the other, taking small steps back with each new sweep. He didn’t like mopping duty, but it was better than basically any other chore this dull place could possibly assign him. Washing dishes had ended with him shoving a cup down Excavator’s bylagual hole, doing laundry had ended with Ju**/**c in the washing machine, and tending the communal gardens had left him and Click Dot Click with splinters in unmentionable places. So, every evening, he was lead to an empty hallway and handed a mop.

He tried to drag this chore out, honestly. Besides the limited time he was allowed to spend in his cell, it was really the only alone time he got in the Theraprism. And while, over the non-linear centuries, he’d gotten more and more comfortable around his fellow patients, that didn’t change the fact that he preferred to be alone.

Making friends was…

Well, he tried not to think about the Henchmaniacs, these days. It didn’t make him angry anymore, just… tired. Therapy had actually helped him come to terms with it, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d been betrayed by those he considered family. It was sort of odd, the way the therapist had framed it for him, because he understood where they were coming from but at the same time it didn’t change his personal perspective of the entire thing.

Which was, apparently, valid.

Ax had briefly mentioned having his ex-friends attend a session with him, but Bill had been adamant that he wanted nothing to do with the lot. They hadn’t betrayed him for good reasons, he explained, not like Jhese had. No - they’d betrayed him to take his place as ruler of the Nightmare Realm. And after he was gone and the dimension easily slipped back to the orderless chaos that it had been subject to before Bill had arrived, they’d fled it with their tails between their legs.

Bill had given Jhese temporary access to the entirety of his powers in order to bring the place back under control until he was deemed ‘rehabilitated’ enough to return. Even Ax had realized that his influence was needed in the Chaos-ruled realm, and had decided Bill would be named Guardian of the Nightmare Realm until its inevitable collapse. After that, his place in the multiverse was up in the air, but he’d at least have good ol’ Ax on his side.

The feeling started as a little tug, at the back of his mind. A small, nagging itch that stopped his movements and had him rubbing his upper angle in annoyance. Then it began to grow. And grow. And grow. And quite suddenly, Bill felt himself yanked unceremoniously from the walls of the Theraprism and dragged through time and space towards a place that felt infinitely familiar and yet wholly new:

Earth.

What he didn’t expect was to slam, physically, into the ground, pain spiking out from his core and radiating through his entire body. He cried out with brand-new lungs as he felt limbs and organs he’d never had connect to his consciousness, spiking confusing signals of new shapes and tactile sensations. He felt tears well up in his eyes, and- eyes?! No, no, he was only supposed to have one, he-

“Did it work?!”

The excited voice had Bill whining softly as he curled up on his side on the cold, hard floor, tucking his chin towards his chest. A hand landed on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soft circles into the tender skin. He lifted his own shaking hand and latched onto the arm that extended from that hand, grip feeble even as he tightened as much as he was capable.

“What…” Bill croaked as he cracked his eyes barely open. “What did you… do to me?”

A very blurry figure seemed to startle, but recovered quickly. “I summoned you! I found an inscription left by local natives thousands of years ago detailing a summoning ritual and created a vessel for you to inhabit once I performed it and…”

Bill’s eyes closed and his body relaxed as he fell into a bone-tired unconsciousness spurred on by the soothing ramblings of the strange creature…

Somewhere, far away from the two strangers, a lone mop clattered to the floor in an empty hallway.

OOOH WOW thank you for sharing this with me!! Sorry for taking a million years to respond. I saw this and then said "woah I gotta make time for that ask! It seems really cool!" and then proceeded to not answer for like a week dksjhfkjgkk

Anyway, I'm really glad my silly doodle could be a source of inspiration!! WHAT!!!! I feel so honored :'DDD💞 If I'm thinking of the correct one that is - I don't think I've shared it here yet.

[bardic-tales]

Building a Goddess from Grief: a behind-the-scenes look at Fantasy Worlds Collide, an original-fandom hybrid passion project

When people read about Bianca Moore — goddess of annihilation, divine mother, destroyer of worlds — they’re often meeting her at the end of a long and violent metamorphosis. But she didn’t begin that way, and neither did I.

FWC is a project I formally curated three years ago, but its roots reach back to 1997, across discarded drafts, old roleplays, and forgotten WIPs. Bianca evolved as I did. She is shaped by the slow, painful process of naming my trauma and reclaiming authorship over my own story. This isn’t a clean character arc. It’s messy, rage-fueled, maternal, and sometimes terrifying. But that’s what makes it honest.

In tracing how my worldview and healing shaped Bianca’s journey, I’m not just showing how a character arc changed. I’m showing how one rises above trauma, and, ultimately, how writing became resistance.

Possible Trigger Warnings: abuse, caregiving trauma, childhood trauma, emotional neglect, generational trauma, internalized abuse, medical trauma, parental abuse, queerphobia, self-erasure, trauma recovery

When I started writing Bianca in the 1990s, she wasn’t a divine being. She was a scientist who comforted Sephiroth between injections: a soft, loyal character whose main role was to soothe a man society would later deem monstrous. That wasn’t just poor characterization. It was a reflection of how I saw myself.

As someone who had survived early abuse and emotional neglect, I believed my purpose — both in fiction and in real life — was to make other people’s pain easier to bear. The fact that I never gave her a voice, only a function, mirrors how I learned to survive. I learned to survive by erasing my needs and becoming what others required, as Bianca became what Sephiroth required.

The Pandemonix Arc came after I began naming what happened to me as abuse. Bianca’s celestial/demonic origin, her violent awakening by Asmodeus, and the way her powers emerged through trauma were shaped directly by my realization that I hadn’t just suffered. I had been harmed by someone who should have protected me. Writing Asmodeus was my way of giving form to the cruelty and control I had lived under, particularly the emotional and physical violence of my mother. His brutality wasn’t fantasy. It was allegory. Bianca’s refusal to break under him, her eventual rebellion, and her killing of her abuser became my way of rewriting the story I never got to live. She didn’t just survive. She named the abuse, severed the bond, and destroyed the legacy that tried to define her, as I am still trying to do. I refuse to break, rebelled by escaping, and have now metaphorically severed my ties to the one who should have protected me but failed me since I was five.

In the wips that makes up the FF VII arc, I was still grieving my lost adolescence at the time of writing those. Like Bianca, I had been responsible for things a child should never carry: caregiving, emotional labor, and fear of being myself. Her relationship with Sephiroth started as a reflection of that.

Bianca believed that by loving someone broken. She could fix herself. But over time, that evolved. In the Kilonova Crisis, Bianca wasn’t healing through love anymore. She was healing with rage. She didn’t suppress her pain to be worthy of someone else’s attention. She used it to destroy the systems that made her suffer. That shift came directly from my own experiences in therapy, disability, and trauma advocacy. It is where I learned that not all healing is gentle. Sometimes healing is a weapon. And, most of the time, healing is NOT linear. It is messy and chaotic.

The Godling Arc surprised me. It was never part of the original plan. Becoming a mother and having that child graduate in real life changed how I saw Bianca’s endgame. Her destructive phase had meaning, but it wasn’t the end. As Bianca bore / created children of her own, she began to push back not only against Sephiroth’s generational violence, but against the last lingering voice of her trauma: Jenova.

Just like Asmodeus, Jenova is a parental figure, but she represents the internalized voice of the abuser: the one that tells you you're never enough, never safe, and never clean. She is the false mirror and the manipulator, the part of abuse that sometimes arrives dressed as affection (as soon by her visions as Lucrecia to Sephiroth in Ever Crisis). Jenova, in FWC, sometimes embodies the love-bombing phase: the lingering anxiety after the blow, the sudden gift that’s meant to rewrite the narrative. It’s not real love. It’s a performance, meant to make the abuser feel better about themselves, while keeping the victim locked in confusion and guilt.

But there is resistance, as Bianca wakes up. In rebelling against Sephiroth’s control, protecting her children, and refusing to pass on that legacy, Bianca wasn’t just reshaping her destiny. She was silencing the voice in her head that once sounded like a parental, parasitic voice. Writing this arc allowed me to imagine what it meant to mother from a place of power and softness, not fear. It was the first time I let Bianca be more than an avenger or weapon. She became sovereign. She became everything my inner child needed to heal. It allowed me to realize that I, myself, broke the cycle with my own daughter and protected her from my own abuser.

FWC, as a curated universe, is only three years old, but it contains nearly three decades of writing, characters, and discarded drafts spanning from 1997 to 2025. My worldview, healing, and rage didn’t just inspire Bianca. They created her: as a dark side of me. Her arcs evolved because I did. Where I once wrote to escape, I now write to name, to reclaim, and to design something better.

FWC is not a sanitized mythos. It’s a map of my own survival. That’s why she never stayed the version I started with. And that’s why, no matter how the world collapses around her, Bianca rises: not untouched, but rewritten by fire. This time, her growth is on her own terms.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy @serenofroses

@sapphirothcrescent @tolliver-j-mortaelwyver

[lexosaurus]

Not me rambling about my fanfics again:

One thing I really like about writing Everything Was White is how in the beginning it SEEMS like it’s going to be a stereotypical linear post-GIW recovery story where “every day Danny gets a little better” and in some ways, it is that. He can walk a little farther every day, he can speak a little more clearly, he can hold more and more conversations, he stops flinching every other second, his early constant fight-or-flight mode slowly wears off, his flashbacks stop assaulting him as much.

But as he becomes more physically capable and more mentally cognizant, he also starts regressing in other ways. He stops opening up, his fuzzy memories begin to have more clarity and thus some things begin to feel worse, his nerve damage recovery remains agonizingly slow. He becomes EXHAUSTED with feeling so shit all the time as he slowly realizes just how long feeling okay again is going to take, and yeah he may never get to his “before” again. He understands where his communication deficits are, and that it’s not all physical, but he doesn’t know how to overcome the mental blocks. He becomes aware that his parents may accept that he’s a halfa, but they also have sooooo much of their own shit they need to unpack, and because of that, some of the measures they take trying to support him actually end up harming him.

I think this is also why a lot of people who were captivated by the early chapters where it seems like a linear recovery story drop off soon after he comes home from the hospital, when they realize ohhhhh yeah that’s not what’s happening here. Danny may recover in this fic, sure, but he and his family are going to have to experience a LOT before they get there. And both Danny and his family are going to make some REALLY bad choices first, all in the name of trying-their-goddamn-best.

Cuz I’ve written a lot of angst, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a fic like this where so many people are like “Yeah I tried my best, great writing, but I had to stop reading.” And I’m totally not insulted by that, btw, but I’ve been deconstructing where exactly that switch happens for people, and I think it’s here.

I think it comes from the fact that this is a recovery story that tells the tale of a character and their loved ones making many, MANY mistakes along the way.

[fantasynexus]

A Post about Taash From the Perspective of an Autistic White Woman

Note: this is a opinionated piece with some hint of self reflection.

I relate heavily with Taash in multiple facets of thier character; personality, relationship with thier Mother and identity not just gender dysphoria but cultural identity.

Being an Autistic Woman

The very first interaction I had with Taash is when I realized they are exactly like me. From how they speak, act and most of all from thier special interests in Dragons.

The uninterested attitude when they realize that someone sent people to help them with something they’re an expert in. They’re annoyed, because someone is questioning their ability to get the job done but they deal with it because they’re now stuck with us.

We ask questions and get one word answers she’s still annoyed because of the unexpected turn of her already laid out plan, until we encounter more Antaam. Once she realizes that you can pull your own weight and genuinely interested in Dragons and not wanting to just kill this specific Dragon is when she really starts to open up.

This comes off as rude to Neurotypicals while to me it’s just her being straightforward and honest. It’s a habit I’ve picked up as well, when asked, “How was your day?” I don’t give the long explanation of every facet of my day. I say, “It was fine.” and move on from the question or how I don’t understand the need to say “You’re welcome.” After you’ve been thanked. That’s to say I don’t feel the need to expand onto my answers.

I also don’t like it when people tell me how to do/ insert themselves into an activity / hobby I’ve been doing just fine on my own. Unwanted Criticism on my artwork annoys me. My Grandma still tells me to stop at stop signs even though I’ve been driving for well over ten years and have never ran a stop sign.

Apparently saying, “I know.” Is considered rude to my Grandmother and my comment is met with a “Well I don’t know that you know.” Despite the fact it should be common sense; a 1+1=2 situation.

It took years for my Grandmother to understand I don’t like last minute plans or to warn me a day ahead if she needs my help with something. If she stops me out the door when I’m already dressed to leave for the park or river and she needs help with yard work then in my mind my plans are ruined for the day because in my brain it’s linear, it doesn’t branch out and reorganize instantly.

Overbearing Maternal Figures

When I was 14 my Grandmother gifted me a book called, “Act Like a Lady, Think like a Man” by Steve Harvey. I never read that book because 14 year old me thought it was stupid.

I don’t dress feminine enough for her; I don’t wear enough make up, I talk to masculine, act to masculine and dress to masculine. She hates the fact I don’t care what random people think about me.

This is still a point of contention with my Grandmother to this day, which if I’m getting the underlying context of Taashs’ dialogue when they refer to themselves or their Mother. They experience the exact same issues that I have.

Taash is forced to hide their Fire Breath, which among the Qun is considered a Masculine trait. They speak how their Mother called their hands ‘Big and Clumsy’ when made to upkeep her Dar-saam, a feminine tradition among Qun Women. When Taash brings up Clothing it’s obvious their Mother said something about how they dress.

Their Mother at every point we see or gain a mention of her at the beginning and mid point of the game is constantly critical of Taash from the way they talk, act and dress. Does that mean she doesn’t care for or love Taash? No, because if she didn’t she would have left Taash and returned to the Qun (if she could).

The overbearing and set in their ways maternal figures do love the child but most of the time they refuse to stop seeing you as a child. They coddle you, they want you to fit their ideals and expectations even when you don’t want to. They refuse to expand their world outside what makes them comfortable.

You can see this when Taash prepares Rivaini dishes for their Mother. Even when it’s literally just Bread, Meat and Cheese. It’s still to “Rich” for their Mother. She refuses to eat it despite being a guest at the Lighthouse. Despite getting an answer to what Nonbinary means she redirects Taash to try Qun terminology that doesn’t fit what it means to be Nonbinary.

Aqun-Athlok: Someone Born one Gender but living like another.

There is no in between for that word, for the Qun, you either take on a Masculine or Feminine role within the society.

Being Disconnected From a Culture You Were Never Part of

My Grandmother immigrated as an infant with her Mother; Father, sisters and brother to America from Italy. My Grandmother is a Immigrant but it’s plain to my eyes how disconnected she is from her Mother and Fathers culture.

The closest thing to Italian cuisine she ever makes is Spaghetti, she doesn’t speak Italian, she doesn’t participate in any Italian traditions or cultural events. Yet she still calls herself Italian and calls her children and I Italian by proxy and she can do that she’s more connected to it then I am.

I don’t consider myself Italian, I consider myself a White American. The only connection to Italy I have is through her and when she’s gone that connection will be gone because I’ve never experienced or participated in true Italian culture.

Taash is more connected to the Qun thanks to their Mother. They can kinda speak the language, cook the food and even participate in customs of the Qun but it’s obvious they’re not really into it. They do it because their Mother wants them to do it. They’re far more interested in being a Dragon Hunter and pillager for the LoF over being part of the Qun.

Hyper-fixations and Special Interests

The very first thing that tipped me off to Taash being Autistic is how they automatically start talking at long lengths about Dragons; the different types, where they live, how they hunt and what they eat.

It reminded me so much of how I talked about World of Warcraft Lore and Characters. How I could recite every sliver of lore, tell when someone didn’t play Vanilla wow just by how they said “Sylvanas WindRunner would never burn the World Tree! They ruined her character.” When I can recount multiple times seeing Forsaken in the Royal Apothecary testing plague concoctions on Horde and Alliance alike. Her resurrecting dead humans into more Forsaken for her armies and plague bombing the city of Gilneas but that’s going way off topic.

Gender Identity

I dislike getting into this discussion because of how uncomfortable it makes me because of my own Gender Dysphoria. I consider myself a Cis Woman? Kinda? Sometimes I want to be seen a cocky asshole to women but a hot bombshell to men. If that makes any sense?

^This Clothing Reference I made for a Bard OC for Baldurs Gate 3 made me experience Gender Dysphoria so bad that I stopped drawing for well over a year. Noting I’m literally shaped like one of those Pomegranate Juice Bottles and nothing like that picture.

While I can relate to Taash’s Gender Identity struggles and finding themselves. It’s not the main thing I relate to (I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.), I’m still struggling with it and I’m not ready to go down that Rabbit Hole myself.

The Emmrich Situation from a Necromancer

This is the make it or break it for if you like Taash or not. When I saw they called him a Skullfucker I laughed it off and moved on. It is out of line to call him that and it is out of line to seemingly refuse to call him Emmrich when he asks.

I cannot imagine hating them to the point of name calling, I’ve seen someone on Reddit Rage Post, calling them a “Narcissistic Spoiled Cunt”.

Taash is Autistic and with Autism comes all the very shitty draw backs of it. Including having issues expressing discomfort until it builds up and explodes out like it did with Emmrich.

I react like Taash, I keep my discomfort to myself until I have a meltdown and it’s not something I can control when it happens. I especially keep silent about my discomfort if it’s involved with a coworker I’m meant to get along with and that every one else also gets along with them. Example: Coworker won’t stop talking about politics, I don’t engage I keep it to myself because I don’t want to start any sort of confrontation. I attempt to avoid and ignore said coworker unless I need to speak with them. Finally they say one political take out of many things towards me and I finally make a complaint to my Boss. Now I’m silently raging to myself on my break about how I’m to mentally and emotionally drained from working this job why can’t they just talk about sports and their kids?

I can tell Taash kept it to herself at first and because of the lack of communication she has she resorts to name calling in hopes he’d stop talking to them. It all comes down to a melting point ends with confrontation and settles into understanding.

The funny thing about this whole interaction is that you start off with Emmrich CONSTANTLY worried about making everyone uncomfortable but when he becomes comfortable in the group he ceases to realize that he’s making Taash uncomfortable.

And don’t act like you would be comfortable talking to someone who constantly talks about dead bodies. Because IRL you wouldn’t. You would think they’re fucking weird. It’s not even just dead bodies. It’s the entire Nevvaran culture around Necromancy.

I work as a CNA, if the first thing I talked about, to complete stranger, is every single step it takes to prepare a dead body. How cold the skin is and how you have to move quickly to reposition them before rigor mortis sets in. The sound of a Death Rattle and the smell of Sulfur coming from a dying persons mouth. Or how an arm despite being totally necrotic (Avascular Necrosis) can still cause immense pain to a living person.

I would be getting looks especially if it was the only part of my job that I talked about and there is more to Emmrichs’ job and life then Necromancy. Example: PLANTS! I’ve never seen his Apothecary hobby mentioned to anyone else besides Rook until you urge them both to find something else to talk about.

That concludes my Tedd Talk, there can be civil discussion about it or none at all. I don’t feel like being judged for my personal life experiences or how I relate heavily to Taash. I kinda just want people to understand Taash the way I do.

[girl4music]

The idea or take that romance isn’t as important as friendship when friendship can evolve into romance is an odd one for me and I think it’s because I don’t think romance can be a romance without a deep friendship.

I’m partial to the “love is friendship on fire” adage and fictional ships or couple romances or love stories that begin from friendship. I favour friends-to-lovers and slow burn platonic-to-romantic relationships in art/entertainment because the depth of the connection is not only depicted but also drawn out and developed.

You get the whole journey so there’s never any rush to get to one development to another. There’s no time-skipping. And there’s no push for something more to happen because what you see happening is part of why you want it to be something more. You appreciate all of it. Even the negatives like the fights and conflicts because that also helps to evolve the relationship into higher degrees of love and devotion than ever before if you’re able to get the whole journey of what you want.

And I think this is why I am fundamentally bored with romantic WLW ships of today in TV art/entertainment.

Because you don’t get the whole journey of the ship.

You don’t really get a love story.

You barely get a pamphlet. 😒

But shows like ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and ‘Wynonna Earp’ give you WLW ships where you get everything in the ships because the journey is the whole point to it.

And for me - that feels significantly more romantic than something that’s explicitly made to be romantic.

I’ve come to realize that that’s probably because they both begin as friends and that that never changes. All that happens is the friendship evolves into romance. And I feel like a lot of TV show WLW ships get it very wrong when they change the friendship side of things. That’s if it even starts as a friendship first. I am often surprised by how many WLW ships I’ve seen in TV art/entertainment that do not. That immediately go into romance. That’s usually just because those shows are just too damn short and linear and they have no time to show you the journey. Thank fuck for fanfic then because in fanfic you can rewrite the beginnings and endings and also explore all the detail in the middle.

What can I say? TV show storytelling just isn’t a good medium for WLW representation not because they don’t want to give you the whole journey… but because they’re prevented from being able to do so.

And I’ve had enough now. I’ve had enough of being made a side storyline or liner notes in a straight person’s show or being killed off or cancelled or tragically broken up and separated when it’s not.

I either want to be a main narrative or not there at all.

I don’t want to have to settle for a half-way state and position of existence just because I’m not male and not straight. I don’t want to have to just make do and I think anybody that believes that they should seriously need to watch something more “dated” where the censorship might be rampant throughout, but… least you still get to see the whole damn journey of what is. Least there is development for those characters and even a conclusion and closure to their relationships…

Least you actually get to see yourself be … someone.

And none of it has absolutely anything to do with your sexuality or gender identity in the way where you have to feel like you’re apologizing for it or sacrificing for it… but rather… this is what is happening and it’s fine.

People really think it’s contradictory that why I love Xena and Gabrielle so much is because their sexuality or the nature of their relationship is never made an issue. They see that as an erasure of who they are.

When no, that’s not it at all.

It’s just not all they are.

It’s not all they do.

There’s so much more about them that’s detailed instead over that and it still never takes away from it.

And that’s what you want. That’s the kind of format to a love story you want to be watching or reading about because it’s normal, it’s natural and it’s just how it is.

They’re lead female characters with many main narratives across the span of 6 whole ass seasons.

And oh yeah, they just happen to be queer and in love.

The journey of the relationship as a friendship is always put first and made the focus with Xena and Gabrielle but it’s always up to you what else they are. It’s just for me - the friendship is what IS so romantic. I can’t really separate one from the other because to me… the reason why they’re the greatest love story that I’ve ever seen in TV of all-time is because they begin as friends and they never neglect this aspect.

[lopposting]

Hello Puppet pals + Romeo fans

would you like a fresh, fun new dose of pain tonight

On Romeo (long post)

So way back in april, in the taiwan event they showed some material from what looks like early builds of the game. this is the still i want to talk about today

It's gepetto (romanized to "zepeto" here) asking if we've "killed the beast".

In the released version, we meet him outside in rosa isabelle street after the KOP fight. It looks as though he's even beside the same lamppost. There's no other similar scene of us meeting gepetto like this, so it's likely referring to the puppet king. (When we meet him on the bridge, he's seen that the donkey has been killed, so we wouldn't need to lie.) but the thing is, this question is a YES OR NO ANSWER, meaning one or the other would be a lie.

So maybe in the early versions of the game it was actually possible align with/spare the puppet king (and by extension romeo) and then lie to Geppetto about it. (I mean, it's possible that it's simply just lying about not killing him to G, and we couldn't spare him to begin with)

I think they realized that they couldn't possibly make such a narratively important boss fight optional and that story-wise it wasn't linear enough to work. The story as a whole is not nearly as effective without his loss.

TLDR: I'm speculating that that image was from an early version of the game, and Romeo could've actually lived but the devs made the hard call against this.

[It's also possible that they just made that image for the purposes of presentation, and that it doesn't mean anything, or that it's another beast entirely.]

But still, somehow it makes it the more tragic. *stares blankly into space.*

(bonus fun notes below)

In this IGN interview before release, Director Choi dropped a big hint about romeo here.

"Yes, this is the king of puppets. And we want to call him a character and not a monster, because he will be the centre of the story. So if you play more and discover more about him, you'll find out more about what he is and who he is."

the puppet king being lampwick was also inadvertently leaked by IGN in this video:

I don't think people unfamiliar with the story would know anything, but pinoheads definitely would've and did recognize what "romeo" alluded to

They kept Romeo's ENTIRE EXISTENCE a secret up until launch. During the roughly two years of promotions before release there was never any mention of Romeo before release. Zip, Nada, so much so that the budding fanbase was starting to assume that he wouldn't even be in the game. NO ONE saw it coming when we found out who exactly we killed. Developers did consider that people who had read the book would catch on to particular things, so, bravo neowiz

And here's the other ingenious thing - they showed us the "Mad Donkey" boss early on in the demo and NOW I'm starting to wonder if this was a deliberate play. Almost everyone assumed this was already the game's iteration of Lampwick, so Romeo came as a surprise, and I think the proceeding story reveals about who the King of Puppets truly was were very effective.

also.. it's extremely cute what they did with the character. Of course, Romeo is the canonical name of Lampwick in Pinocchio, but the name "Romeo" is also probably the most heavily associated with Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet (which also takes place in Italy, as does Pinocchio!). And then we meet him in a theatre, and he puts on a play for us before we fight. Romeo supposedly had an affinity for acting, as Carlo did with the piano (I have heard this around on reddit, I don't know where this originates from, please lmk if you've seen these lore items). But most of all, Romeo and Juliet is a deeply remembered tragedy - like Lampwick in collodi's pinocchio. They are two young boys who didn't get away.

(maybe all of this was so obvious to everyone else but i love it still haha)

Fun to revisit this stuff after release with new clarity.

[To Reiterate - All of this is just my speculation]

[wee-chlo]

Gale asking mindflayer!Durge if they'd ever thought of eating his brain. Durge is silent for long enough that Gale worries it was a rude question.

Then Durge is like Gale, you're an incredibly intelligent, well-read wizard who's traveled extensively and lain with the literal goddess of magic. Of course I've thought about eating your brain. Eating your brain would be absolutely delightful.

"Oh," Gale says, torn between being flattered and being mildly horrified.

Of course, I never would, Durge says firmly. I'd rather throw myself into the Grymforge than hurt you. But you'd be very filling. And delectable.

"I see." Durge is quiet, and Gale assumes that the conversation is done.

I've also thought about... well... Durge fidgets with her hands, and Gale opens his mind a little to feel the anxiety. Muted by the alien nature of Durge's mind, but present nonetheless.

"Go on," Gale says encouragingly. "Judgement free zone, as always, my love." A pulse of affection, a cool, rubbery hand giving his own a squeeze.

I was always going to outlive you, Durge begins. I was a half-elf, and not old. You are human and you were... late thirties, when we met? On average, you had approximately fifty to sixty years left, barring any magical acts to increase longevity. As a half-elf, my average lifespan would be near one hundred and fifty years.

When I became a mindflayer, the clock reset, so to speak. If I remain on the material plane, where time is reasonably linear, I'll live approximately one hundred and twenty-five years.

Here Durge pauses, and Gale can't bring himself to interrupt. Because while the voice that echoes in his head is fairly flat, monotone as ever, the emotions rolling off of her that he senses psionically are agony. Grief, terror, anxiety.

When you die, she continues. I have no idea what I'll do. You've always been... well, when I was a half-elf, I was also a Bhaalspawn. When I wanted to make the right decision, I couldn't trust myself. So I'd look to you. If you approved, I knew I was doing the right thing. Because you're a good person.

She says it so simply. So frankly. As if it is a given, a fact of life. The sky is blue, fire is hot, Gale Dekarios is a good person.

It's not fair to you, she said, nonsensically. But it has always been that way. And now, I am most... myself when I'm with you. There are times when I feel like a liar. Like I'm tricking you all into believing the person who you loved is still here. But with you, I feel like myself. Like it isn't a trick.

When you're gone, what will happen? Will I forget what it means to be me? Will one day I go to visit Astarion or Lae'zel or Halsin and and they'll realize they're talking to a stranger?

"Darling," Gale says. Durge pauses, waiting for him to continue, but he finds that he can't. He doesn't know what to say.

When I consume the brains of humanoids, small pieces of them remain, Durge continues. For example, I find the taste of certain herbs have changed. You use one frequently that now tastes strongly of soap.

"You could have mentioned that!" Gale says, alarmed. "That's the coriander; I could have-"

I am not finished, Gale. It's gently said, but Gale shuts up as swiftly as if she'd covered his mouth with her hand.

I... have often wondered if the effect would be stronger with someone who I share a strong bond with, she continues. Shadowheart, or...

"Me," Gale supplies, because he can tell Durge is close to shutting the conversation down from sheer emotion.

It's silly, she says. Monstrous.

"It's sweet," Gale says. "And not... necessarily something I'd be opposed to, when the time comes." Durge stares at him, alien eyes unblinking, mind shut tight. He has no idea what she thinks of that.

Tara would not be pleased, she says at length, and Gale snorts.

"She knows us. We're both mad, for each other and in general. I doubt she'd be surprised." Durge says nothing for a long while, fingers tapping arrhythmically against his hand.

If you could stop using the coriander, I would appreciate it.

"Consider the herb banished from the kitchen forthwith."

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 55 general thoughts // spoilers

it's crazy to think that takamatsu-sensei would be able to condense all the points of what makes skip to loafer special in one chapter alone, but surprise: she did that, beautifully — as always.

like a hot summer night, everything about this chapter feels warm. I can also compare it to a hug. what I want to say in the end is that there's a lot of empathic points and moments on this chapters that brings out the best on sensei's writing and how she build her characters.

giving mika a chance to share her point of view right after so many chapters that focused so much on shima's struggles was a great move. the reason why I say this is because I can see mika as someone who's personality and character construction is very similar and linear to shima's. both of them have this scar of their past that keeps coming and going up to their adolescence and they are trying to find a way to surpass is — and both of their worries lie on loneliness, but a different kind for each one.

while shima fear loneliness as in disappointing everyone around him, mika feels it as in never finding a place she could really be who she wants to be. yes, she found a safe space with the girl group, but she still feels like she can't tell them everything, and I don't think she's wrong for that. even tho it's comforting and they make her happy, it's hard for her to really break this wall she took so long to build. it's not something you can change overnight.

and following this with nao connecting the dots from her past to present was amazing. that's because it was easily an introduction to nao's feelings about her hometown and all the pain she still feels in relation to it. even though she's living in tokyo with a new happy life, there will always be that teenage sitting on the beach, crying and feeling lonely in the back of her mind. by relating to mika's pain and loneliness, nao can finally find a way to put an end to what hurts her so much and make peace with her past. as i said before: she looks at mika and sees a second chance.

different from grumpy mukai, I don't think mika was in any way making that moment about herself. liking it or not, her crush on shima was the reason why her relationship with nao started, so it was the best way for her to make that bond stronger (and find a partner in crime).

now for the one!!! the one we never could imagine had thoughts: mukai! exploring a little more of mukai on this chapter elevates more the complexity of the scenes around them. and also, when he starts to think about mika's feelings and shima's complexity, we're transported to the beginning of the chapter, when mika is asking herself basically the same questions.

mukai realized how sharp and precise mika is, but something inside him still wants to deny. that's because she's "the type of girl" he thought he knew and didn't liked it, but now he's seeing a side from her that is challenging him on his own believes. it's a way for him to break a little out of his shell, to break from the stereotypes he once thought he knew.

there's a lot to come, specially because he's very curious about her — always had been. she's intriguing, beautiful and much braver than he thought she could be. for now, I'm happy that that's all that we have: a little "I notice this but I don't want to think about it" from him.

takamatsu-sensei relies herself on human connections, and here we are again, having the privilege to experience this. the whole chapter is a callback to relationships, bonds, the complexity of one another and our own. it's about connections, forgiveness, moving forward.

it might take time, but mika will find her peace sooner or later. I mean, if someone ever told teenage nao that she would be calling her boyfriend and inviting him to visit her hometown, do you think she would believe it? we're always moving on our own pace 💛

as always, thank you for reading, sorry for any mistakes (I just follow my stream of consciousness basically) and I hope we can talk more about it, together 💛

you can also find this thread on twitter

[thegaybluejay]

Okay hi I’m back with another ramble-y ATLA character analysis since this is low key my brand on here lmao-

Today I want to talk about Zuko from the lens of someone who also had to deconstruct. This will be long, but please bear with me!

I was raised in a very white conservative evangelical Christian bubble where literally EVERYONE I knew for the majority of my childhood and teenage years thought mostly the same way. There was a lot of othering and shaming of anyone who thought too differently. Even if it was sometimes said more passively than cruelly, there was always that underlying tone. “The others/the people outside of our group/the worldly ones are lost and need our help because we’re better than them!”

While I strived to not be cruel, my beliefs were still harmful. I lost a few friends when I got to my mid-late teenage years because I didn’t yet know how to challenge what I’d been taught.

I see so much of myself in Zuko.

Zuko was surrounded by propaganda his entire life. He was steeped in it - steeped in the blood of those that the system he supported/represented had hurt and killed.

Anger is a huge part of all of this. While my anger was never quite as outward as Zuko’s (I hid it fairly well and was always known as the “pretty good kid”), I can still so heavily relate to his anger. His anger at always falling just short of being good enough or perfect enough. His later anger at himself for not understanding how fucked up the system was sooner. His anger at the people that failed and hurt him. His anger at realizing how he failed and hurt other people. All of it.

I also understand his backslides in Book 2 and early Book 3. When you begin tackling the first layers of harmful shit you’ve been taught, it can quickly become so tempting to just call it quits and go back. You almost start to romanticize the simplicity of life before you began this journey. The rules and goals were so straightforward back then, and deconstructing is messy as hell. Even if you were deeply hurting in your old life, at least you weren’t so damn confused. You used to know your next steps, but now everything is in disarray and you don’t have a direction to rebuild in yet. Going back almost feels like it would be a survival tactic, a way to have a sense of control again. Zuko definitely 100% needed to atone for what he did in Ba Sing Se because it hurt others, and while I’d like to think I would’ve made a different choice in his shoes, I also get it on some level. The confusion stage sucks, and it’s not always linear either.

But then.

One day, something just clicks. You eventually deconstruct enough that you truly come to full terms with how fucked up it all is. And you realize that you don’t belong there anymore, and the version of you that DID belong was just a facade. The blinders fully come off, they’re never going back on, and a spark lights in you that prompts you to make a big change. The deeper you go, the more urgent this deconstruction becomes in your mind because holy fuck I have to do something about this. I want this shit out of my brain for good and I want to help make things better. I want to learn who I am and finally live that out.

THAT is one of the most pivotal points in the journey, and I loved seeing it within Zuko’s arc when he comes to this realization after the war meeting in Book 3 and leaves to join the Gaang. I also loved that they didn’t trust him the first time he came to them - both he as an individual and the system that he had once supported/represented had hurt these people, and it took some real apologies and some time to build up trust. It also wasn’t done with half assed centrism either - it was “I acknowledge that this system is completely broken and wrong and I will do everything in my power to help gut it from the top-down and restore it with love”.

This leads to another pivotal point in the journey - instead of being motivated by fear like you were when you were deep in the indoctrination or by the raw anger you first felt as you initially left, you start to be motivated by love. And it’s the most freeing thing.

It was so cool to see Zuko learn that, while his anger was a helpful tool (ie: the confrontation with his father and his overall anger at the corruption he saw in his nation), he couldn’t be fueled by it any longer. He had to find another motivation to keep going, and he was then taught by the Sun Warriors and the dragons how to be motivated by light and life and love and also how to use those alongside an anger that was finally righteous.

And with this, he was ready to fight. To fight for a cause he knew to be good. To fight arm in arm with his newly acquired family. To fight to fix what his nation had done to the world and to itself. To fight for love and peace instead of division and hate and destruction.

And wow is it a beautiful journey.

TL;DR - Zuko’s story is so powerful to those who are deconstructing and I love him so much! I also just enjoy doing character analysis hehe.

(I really love talking about ATLA, so if y’all want me to analyze other characters or even plotlines through a specific lens, feel free to submit an Ask and I will happily do so!!!)

(Also, quick ending note - this is just my personal experience with deconstruction! Other people’s retelling of their own deconstructions may be different from mine, and that’s totally okay!!)

[maikingsenseofit]

https://www.tumblr.com/miss-sweetea-pie/727558083762667520/listen-i-dont-like-kataang-and-maiko-because thoughts on this?

Excuse my candor but that post is kinda bullshit.

The key part to understand is OP says this:

“Zutara was just a lovely little treat and would have tied up everything in a lovely bow”

Except romance, especially romance that is reflective of real relationships, emotions, and journeys, isn’t something that can be neatly wrapped into a lovely bow. Relationships are messy, they don’t have a linear arc nor do they fit into thematic/narrative structures like The Hero’s Journey, etc. Relationships are replete with disagreements, sacrifices, and understandings that don’t magically appear or disappear the second the story ends on paper or on the TV. And that’s what makes Kataang and Maiko so powerful.

I see a lot of Zutara shippers obsess with this need for thematic and narrative cohesion, but not one can make a proper argument as to why their relationship towards the end needed to be romantic as opposed to the platonic one they had in the show. Why must two people, who started out as stark enemies on opposing sides of a war, need to fall in love? Is it not just as salient that they ended up as friends who protect each other, something that could have never been fathomed between the two of them? I actually love Bryke for not going the traditional enemies to lovers route, because it significantly reduces the impact of Zuko’s redemption and sacrifice, and Katara’s willingness to broach enemy lines due to her innate humanity. They didn’t do any of the things they did because they were head over heels in love with each other (they never once expressed romantic desire or attraction in another) but because they had a higher duty and purpose they needed to fulfill and a deeper empathy they needed to gain not only for each other, but other characters in ATLA.

The Maiko and Kataang arguments are just not in good faith. Kataang was set up from the very beginning and Aang had already reached the conclusion that she was such an integral part of his life that he wouldn’t let her go for anything (why would I want to let go of Katara)? Zuko already realized that he had to sacrifice his relationship with Mai for the greater good of the world when he writes her a letter and expresses his remorse against their portrait in the fire nation. The writers wrote Mai to turn on Azula to match Zuko’s sacrifice.

Both couples disagreements at the end werent going to make or break their relationship or their arcs because much of the ground work was already laid in the previous three seasons. The plot lines op talks about were explored throughout the series, they weren’t unearthed and festered only towards the very end. Compare that to Zuko and Katara’s relationship - where they were only on the same side and actually trusted each other in the last three episodes of the entire show. Most shippers actually agree with me when I say it would have been weird to have them magically kiss or suddenly develop feelings for each other in the finale.

Thanks for asking.

[iam93percentstardust]

Pop Star Fics

In honor of the Eras Tour movie finally being complete on streaming, here's a rec list of (mostly) Stevetony pop star and pop star-adjacent fics 💚💛💜❤️🩵🖤🩷🩶🤎💙🤍 Anyway, we don't have enough of these in this fandom so I'm hereby declaring that we should all write more of them (I'm doing my part; I'm almost done with the Fearless era for This Life Is Sweeter Than Fiction)

Written by Others

One Step Closer by scottxlogan (E) Tony Stark was pushed into popstar fame by his ambitious father early on, but over the span of more than two decades Tony has seen the highs and lows of stardom hitting rock bottom in more ways than one. Through it all there was always one person that Tony felt was his saving grace. Steve Rogers was always the one that got away and no matter how many times they tried to cross that line into love they couldn't quite get there. As Tony's once close friend and brief roommate, Steve turned Tony's world around in all the right ways until fate intervened and they were pulled in separate directions. Now fresh out of rehab on his 45th birthday and looking to keep from making the same mistakes, Tony reflects on his past and follows his heart to new beginnings hoping that it's not too late to find his way back to Steve in his hopes for a second chance. -I love that this Tony is closer to his canon age. It's a look at the pop star life from the other side once you're not the shiniest, brightest thing on the block anymore. The smut is great, the romance is lovely, and the ending is delightful ❤️

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame (M) In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye. -Everything flame writes is always amazing, even the things I never in a million years thought I would like, but this is just so lovely. It's soft and sweet, and I love the take on second gender dynamics that flame explores 💛

at his side by areiton (M) He meets Steve on a Sunday, wearing his old Eagles jersey and shorts so short his Mama fusses at him, and he grins, tousled curls and a devil may care grin, bare-faced and bare foot. “Hi,” he says, and then, like an introduction is necessary, like the whole world isn’t learning his name, he adds, “I’m Tony.” -I love bodyguard AUs so much, and arei absolutely delivers with this one. Top-notch pining, great use of the non-linear narrative (which arei is always fantastic at, in my opinion), and I love how the eras were changed to fit this story 💙

Written by Me

This Life is Sweeter Than Fiction (series) A series of interconnected fics, following Tony Stark from his time as a country singer to the world's biggest pop star. Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift. -I feel weird hyping up my own fics, but if you're willing to follow me as I explore multiple relationships, second gender dynamics, and reinterpret the fandom's hatred for Tony after Civil War through the lens of the Reputation era, I feel like you'd really like this series. Like I said, I'm almost done writing the Fearless era, so that'll be coming in the next few weeks 💚

False God (E) The first time Steve meets him, Gillian has all sixteen dancers sitting in a circle on the floor of the rehearsal studio, where she makes them go around the room and introduce themselves. Tony is the youngest of them at nineteen, has two cats currently in his sister’s custody, and got his start in ballet before being so inspired by the 1989 tour that he cross trained just in the hopes that one day he could dance with Sharon. Steve had made a note of it in the way that he makes a note of everyone he works with, felt a little old because he had been a dancer on the 1989 tour and now this baby is saying he was inspired by them, and then gotten distracted by the next girl. -In which neither of them is the pop star! They're backup dancers for pop star Sharon instead, which I think is very fun of me 🩷

When Emma Falls in Love (G) “Nice?” Kamala exclaims. “It’s way past nice! It’s the cutest thing ever because his bracelet had his phone number on it! He was hoping to ask you out!” Tony blinks. Steve Rogers, All-American good boy and quarterback extraordinaire, wants to throw his hat in the ring? He wouldn’t be the first person to toss his name out there, but most of them have just tried to DM him or tag him in their posts. No one’s shown the kind of thought and effort that Steve apparently put into his declaration. It’s a level of understanding and appreciation of who Tony is and everything he’s cultivated in his career that no one else has put in. It is, to use Kamala’s word, cute. -In your life, you'll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team... or maybe not? Anyway, this is just a very fluffy romance with instantly smitten Steve and Tony 💜

Glitch (T) “Ms. Potts, my name is Steve Rogers, and I’m Justin Hammer’s roommate," Steve says. “Oh, what does that asshole want now?” she asks. “I don’t think he wants anything—except to make a quick buck and ruin Mr. Stark’s reputation.” -This is a pop star AU in the loosest definition of the word. Tony is a pop star but he doesn't get to do anything pop starry things in this AU. It's mostly about Steve, but if you like throwing popcorn at the screen whenever Justin Hammer shows up, people getting their comeuppance, and Steve being the standup guy he is, then this is the fic for you 🖤

Death by a Thousand Cuts (T) “Tony?” Pepper asks, and he can tell just by the look on her face that whatever she has to tell him, it isn’t good. “What?” he asks. She looks uncharacteristically hesitant. Pepper isn’t supposed to be hesitant. She’s supposed to be barge-in, guns-blazing, unapologetically confident. “The news leaked,” she says eventually. -One of my favorite tropes, breaking up and making up! Idk I just really like writing stories where neither of them did anything wrong, they just couldn't work things out in those circumstances, but turns out being apart is even worse 🩶

Aaaaand a bonus winteriron fic for you!

Kissed by a Muse (E) Two years ago, Bucky returned home from the war, disillusioned, injured, and angry. Two months ago, he started working at Rogers Records, recording other bands when all he wants is for his band to be the one performing. Two minutes ago, he ran into a mysterious stranger at the grocery store who argued with him over the last box of Eggos, kissed him, and ran off with the waffles. And now he can't stop thinking about him. Bucky sees him everywhere: on the album cover he's recording, walking by his sound booth. And then, as he's staying late at work one night, he hears someone singing down the hall. But that can't be right - because that's his song, one that he's never performed for anyone. He isn't really surprised though to find that it's the stranger who kissed him in the grocery store that night. Only someone who can seemingly appear and disappear like this stranger can could possibly be singing a song he's never sung for anyone. The stranger offers him a chance: a chance to get his life back on track, to perform for the owner of the biggest record company in the world, a chance to get his band back and make it big. With an offer like that, how could Bucky refuse? -If you're familiar with the 1980s film Xanadu with Olivia Newton John, Gene Kelly, and that guy from The Warriors, this is that but with Bucky and Tony being, well, Bucky and Tony 🤎

[practically-an-x-man]

1, 8, 10, 26 for WWFA please?

Thank you!!

Even More Fic Writer Asks

Start to finish, how long did it take to plan and write? Did you take breaks during the process?

Well it's still ongoing (though we're getting into the third act, so there's not too much further to go), and I started it all the way back in December of 2021. Progress is slow since life is busy, motivation is tumultuous, and I have a lot of projects, but I'm still trying to chip away at it!

8. Did you cut something out of the outline or an early draft? What was it and why did you decide to cut it?

Not really! As a general rule, there is very little that ends up being cut from my works. I'm much more of an additive writer than a subtractive writer, so I'll include pretty much everything I come up with either in the main fic or in oneshots/AUs/etc.. Maybe a few tiny details got cut here and there, but I can't remember any particular examples.

10. How did you approach writing the fic? (e.g. wrote it start to finish in order, started with the ending, starting with the twist)

Started from the beginning and worked through the story in a linear way, same way I write just about everything else! For whatever reason, that works best for me - it sometimes means I have to wait a while to get to the juicy scenes in the middle, but it also means I can fit in the foreshadowing, symbolism, and other little details as I go rather than retrofitting them back into the scenes later. Then, by the time I actually get to the big scenes, I've built up enough of those themes and that energy that it really pays off!

26. Share your favorite detail

I didn't realize how subtle this one really was in practice, because I've had several people say that they didn't even notice this until I pointed it out: the passages that involve the gods are written in present tense rather than past tense, as a way to indicate that the gods see time on a scale that mortal people cannot comprehend.

And, as an extra detail, I've intentionally left out Katherine's name in those scenes where she communes with the gods, for a few reasons. For one thing, her name is anachronistic to the time period the gods are from, so her name doesn't quite exist there - even Bastet calls her "daughter" or other terms of endearment. For another thing, it's meant to convey that she's more connected to the past and its magic than she is to her usual life, with that disconnect from her name. And finally, the refusal to use her name is subverted only once, when she's pulled between the tablet and the real world at the climax of the fic, and that use of her name when it's never otherwise been used makes for a gut-punch impact that conveys Bastet's desperation (as well as her deeper connection to Bastet than the other gods, since Bastet is the only one to use her name even once).

When it comes to writing magical scenes, every detail is intentional. I want the magic to feel like it extends past the confines of the story, I want it to feel so powerful that it breaks those rules and patterns that have been set up with the rest of the writing, so even details like tense and word choice are chosen with complete intent. And I think it pays off! Whether it's this, Taking Flight, Vivienne's fics, or anything else that involves magic or otherworldly power... that intentional choice really gives it a lot of depth!

[misc-obeyme]

-🐆 You know I think that's exactly why it's taking them so long to release the new season, because they have to much plot holes to cover. Is it the whole Lilith thing again? Eh, let's not get into that subject. What made sense to me, probably just my mind filling in the blanks, is that MC eventually, gradually regained some memories, a bit at a time, while the brothers remained sort of like a constant memory that is a core one (I hope I am making sense). It could be also that Solomon used some magic to help MC stabilize memory wise. Or just shown pictures on his DDD. A lot of plot things in this game (especially implied sex scenes, for obvious reasons) are left blank. Usually they aren't that important but in this case they are! So hopefully they do explain deeper in the new season. Also the term "time soup" sort of made sense to me, since I stand by the theory that time cannot be linear as we think it is. So if mc, from their present, went back to the past, mc brought all the memories and experiences with them. Meaning, the past is "changed" but not really. Just like it was changed in season 1 in og where mc was killed, but not really. So the time soup thing started wayyyyy back in the lore. Because if, they went back to the past, in a linear timeline, I think it would have left much less effect on the brothers and on the way everything unfolded. For example, the whole Cocytus journey. Mc presumably had an affect on the brothers even back in the celestial realm (I was just re-reading season 3 of og where mc ate Solomon's sandwich and was sent back in time) so Lucifer would have been locked up in Cocytus either way, but what did release him from the shackles? Did the brothers go after him even without mc? Did he still had his outburst against Diavolo? Was it that it is a time soup and mc was destined, in the this world logic, to hurtle back in time to this specific point and help the brothers, who know them but not really, who have a pact with them but not really? Also, in hard lessons, what the hell did Solomon made the brothers do to repay him for breaking them free from the curse that changed their personalities? Did he make them take a pact with him??? If that's true, I am mortified, really. See, I can ramble for more, but I don't feel bad about it lol, though you of course don't have to either! I don't only request your rambles, now I demand them, it matches my own!

I'll just go and watch dr who, my head is hazy, at least that show makes more sense with time travel If you watch it too, did you see the episode with Jinxx?? It was SO good.

I mean, they sure do have a lot of plot to resolve in the upcoming season! I don't know how far in advance they plan the story, but it feels very disjointed most of the time lol.

MC's memory issues never really registered for me, tbh. I always interpreted it as an MC who still has all those memories from OG? I was under the impression that they changed some of the story in the first lesson of NB, but I never went back and replayed it. So I told NB at the beginning that I knew the brothers and I guess that left out the part about MC having lost their memory? Or perhaps I just forgot about it???

I just always played it as MC remembered everything from the start, so I haven't really considered that part of the story too much. But I think the idea that MC's memories slowly come back makes sense. Or that Solomon filled them in, since there's plenty of time where they're living together for him to do that. It seems odd that they wouldn't at least mention either of these things, though, even if they didn't show it happening.

I don't have a problem with the "time soup" theory in a more general sense. I've read about theories where time is not linear in our actual reality. I just don't like it as a storytelling mechanic. Lesson 16 really confused me. I didn't realize what had happened until I read it again and until I had seen other people's thoughts on it. MC went back in time, but then one MC just disappears? It made no sense to me.

The issue I have with the time travel stuff is that it's a mess to figure out. I think it's good that people can kind of work it out in a way that makes sense to them, but nobody's idea of the time travel shenanigans in this game are the same. Everybody's interpretation has been different from what I've seen. They never established any rules for their time travel, so it's just confusing.

Hmm. Okay, so here's how I think about it. In this case, the time travel is part of magic. And when you have magic in a story, you have to make up the rules for it yourself. My experience has been that if you're going to use magic as a plot device, you have to set out specific rules for how it works. Otherwise, just about anything could happen. That's the part I don't like. The rules aren't clearly defined, they're just soup and that means nothing to me.

They could say time is not linear. They could say that in the original version of the past, MC wasn't there and that means anything could have happened. Maybe the events were similar to what they were when MC was there. But they could have been completely different. Maybe Lucifer didn't even end up in Cocytus at all. It's impossible to say what happened in the original version of that timeline.

Then MC goes to the past and changes things. No matter how careful MC is, their presence alters the past irrevocably. And Solomon is there, too, so potentially altering things even more.

Okay, I could accept all that. But having everybody in the past feel that there's something special about MC's guest room? Having glimpses and memories of a future they couldn't possibly have any knowledge of? This is the part that makes no sense. Does this mean that those characters all had those same memories in the original version of the past, the one where MC didn't show up? If time is a soup, does that mean that all these characters are experiencing all those timelines simultaneously and can have memories of all of them all the time whether MC is present or not?

If that's the case, how come the characters didn't have any memories of MC in OG? Season three hinted that MC may have impacted them in the Celestial Realm, but those memories never manifested before that incident. If time is a soup, shouldn't they have had those memories of MC from the very start?

My issue is that they just threw this in there because they're trying to explain away what they've already done. It doesn't feel like they went into this story with any of these intentions (and like to be fair they probably didn't).

I just feel like they could have explained the time travel in a way that meshed better with the story we already had.

And you know while I don't think Solomon made them make pacts with him, I can see him suggesting it! I suspect they'd have been like um no not on your life buddy lol. I love him so much.

OH BOY well, anyway, you demanded rambles, so here it is lol!!! This is just me getting WAY too into these details. I don't usually do this because in the end, it doesn't really matter! I'm willing to overlook this stuff because I love the characters so much. And I also very much believe that everyone should interpret the story in the way that makes the most sense for them! This is just my personal opinion, I think everybody's opinion and interpretation is valid!

I've definitely seen stories that handle time travel much better. I never did get into Dr Who, but I have heard good things!