#this is directed at everybody i'm not singling you out anon

[pikahlua]

The meaning I took from it is that it was a continuation of the story into another genre. So it’s still canon, it just wasn’t meant for Shōnen Jump. It’s my feeling since that’s how Japanese fans who are upset are reacting. I don’t know. It’s strange to cause more confusion instead of giving a satisfying conclusion in the final volume…

Y'all have an unhealthy obsession with canon and someone needed to say it. I don't give a fuck if Horikoshi comes to my house and tells me it's canon. I don't. fucking. care. That's the magic of Death of the Author.

I don't give a fuck what some Japanese fans are saying. I don't give a fuck what people are saying I said or if they're taking me out of context. I don't give a fuck what you guys wanna read into Horikoshi's note. It's fiction. It's open to interpretation. If Horikoshi wanted to say it was canon, he fucking would have, and I would have happily not given a fuck because I don't fucking care about what's canon except to have fun with it when I feel like it. What Horikoshi said was merely how he approached the chapter in question. You get to do with that whatever the fuck you like, just as I do.

Stop trying to make me a mouthpiece for all of the internet's dumbass arguments. Go write a blog and sign your name on it like I have.

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Four

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.1K words

Next one will be longer, I promise. Next part is actually Y/N doing a QandA video. Sooooo, anything you want to ask about the fic, send in an anon and Y/N will answer ;)

Series Masterlist

"Hello everybody and welcome to the Monaco grand Prix," said Y/N into her microphone. James stood opposite her, camera in his hands as he filmed her.

The Monaco grand prix. It was spectacular. Monaco itself was a place of grandeur, with impressive buildings and spectacular views. The harbour was filled with expensive yachts and boats and the water was sparkling blue.

Celebrities were around every corner in Monaco. Y/N had already met two of the Kardashians and one of her dads favourite actors. She tried not to film them and, if she did, she made a point of going over and asking for their permission.

Y/N had never been this dressed up before. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse with a cream vest over the top. A black skirt was underneath, both the vest and blouse tucked into it. On her feet she had trainers, going for comfort over style.

She'd been up since the early hours of the morning, doing her hair and her makeup, ready for the grand prix. Lando had waited for her, walking in with Y/N on his arm.

"I can't believe you're not wearing orange," he said to her as they walked into the paddock. "I can't believe you're not representing McLaren."

"I always represent McLaren, Lando. I wanted to look nice today. Got big things planned," she answered.

"And you can't look nice in orange?"

Rolling her eyes, Y/N walked away from him. "I'll catch up with you later!" She called, running off to meet James.

That was where she met the two Kardashians and one of her dad's favourite actors.

She and James began rolling. She did her introduction, showed off her outfit and the video began.

Monaco was one of Y/N's favourites grand prix's. With such a tight track it was exciting and anxiety-inducing all at the same time. She loved it, loved that feeling. Of course, every time Lando was in a tight spot she was biting her nails and trying not to shut her eyes out of fear.

The real part of the video began. Y/N started out in the McLaren garage, seeking out her best friend. "Lando Norris, can we pull you aside for an interview?"

Lando stared at her for a good fifteen minutes. And then he ran off. Just took off across the paddock away from her. "What the hell? Lando! I just want to interview you!"

She turned, looking for the other McLaren driver. "Oscar?"

But the Australian had already disappeared, hiding away somewhere in the garage.

"Assholes," Y/N said into her microphone as she glared in the direction Lando had run off in.

Moving on, her next stop of the Ferarri garage. James walked behind her, keeping the camera following her. "Charles?" Called Y/N, walking into the garage. The Monégasque, already in his racing suit, turned to her with wide eyes. "Wanna do an interview?"

Putting his fingers in his ear, Charles started to sing. "Lalala, not listening! I'm not listening!" He sang and walked away from her.

One and on she went, trying to find somebody to interview. They all either ran away or did the same as Charles. Daniel let her interview him, but every single answer was a joke to him.

"You can interview me, if you'd like," came a voice as Y/N turned away from the Redbull garage. She turned around, recognising the voice. But she didn't expect it to belong to him.

There he was, already in his raving suit, helmet under his arm. His hair was done nicely, but that wouldn't matter soon. The Dutch man smiled as Y/N looked at him. "You'd really let me interview you?"

"Of course," answered Max. "You've got to keep the FormulaY/N fans happy."

Y/N grinned. She looked to James and moved her hand in front of her throat, signalling to him to cut off the camera. "Seriously, Max, thank you. This video has been a disaster and the only footage I've got is people running and hiding from me. You're literally a life saver."

In response, Max just gave a smile. They started rolling again and Y/N began asking the questions.

They weren't her usual jokey questions. Y/N was trying her very best to be serious and Max was helping. Every question he answered in the sincerest way possible.

Before they began filming the video, Y/N made it clear to Max that they could cut out anything he didn't want to be left in there. There were some questions Y/N had that she was sure wouldn't be in the final cut of the video. But, so far, Max had no objections.

It was the last question Y/N thought she'd have to get rid of. "Would you say that you can appreciated how hard your father pushed you when you were a child, or do you resent him for it?" She asked, holding her microphone towards him.

"We can cut it out if you want," she whispered.

Max shook his head. "I'll answer. Just, let me watch it before you post it."

"Of course."

So, Max answered. He was unapologetically honest. As he spoke, Y/N's eyes went wide. It was hard to follow, but Y/N wasn't struggling. Her focus was only on him, completely forgetting microphone in her hand and the camera pointing at her.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I love my father and I do appreciate how hard he pushed me. Without that, I wouldn't be here talking to you. While I wish I sometimes had a weekend off, I can't resent him for it," he said.

Max seemed to forget about the camera. He was staring at Y/N, heart in his eyes. "Wow, Max," she found herself whispering, her microphone down by her side. "That was incredible."

"Thank you, Y/N." He checked the time on his watch and looked back towards the Red Bull garage. "I should get going. You look nice today."

"So do you." But Max was already gone, walking back towards the Red Bull garage.

Putting the camera down, James stared at Y/N. "You know he's wearing the same thing he wears every day, right?"

"Shut up, James," she muttered and turned towards him.

Holding her microphone up once again, Y/N readied to film the remainder of the video. "Well, there we have it, everybody. Only one of my "so called" friends wants to be interviewed by me. Lovely, aren't they? As always thank you everybody for watching. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and join us for the next race of the season."

James put down the camera. "I'm off to edit," he said, taking the microphone from Y/N's hand. "Have fun at the race."

He walked away before Y/N could respond to him.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum

[sincerelyverena]

Can you write for sub!Oliver? I'm so desperate seeing him squirming and whining😮‍💨

⟡⁺ RUN, BUNNY, RUN

oh hi guys its been a while ! never thought id manage to get this out but here it is, n i hope u all enjoy. ive missed each n every one of u (sorta) (joking). anyways im planning to lean in on the more multifandom aspect of my account, so youll be seeing a few different fandoms scattered around. nevertheless, give it a read! mybe itll be ur thing :] ty anon for this request, much love <3

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘beautiful, violent, vulgar.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver got what he wanted at a price.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐sub!oliver﹐dom!reader ﹐y/n catton﹐reader is a cougar ﹐oliver just cant get enough﹐reader is implied to be a shorty ﹐elspeth is a hoe﹐cunnilingus ﹐degradation﹐orgasm denial﹐marking kink ﹐lowkey blackmail ﹐farleighs there too!

ON THE HUNT FOR BETA READERS! MSG ME <3

He reminded you of a bunny, an animal.

Oliver Quick was reticent compared to the hearty, high conversation around the table that night. He was stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the Cattons, a family line of the prestigious. High on the grace of themselves and each other. Blissfully unaware of anyone or anything past what they offer to their inflated egos. And who were you, to make such unprincipled claims against family? Against blood?

Mother  – Elspeth, as she insists all the children call her – had always made snide, discreet digs at you. Shielded with a manipulative curl of the whoreish pinks of her lipstick. Underneath those sly comments is a white-hot grudge, directed toward her only daughter of blood and the Catton heiress everybody just seemed to have forgotten about.

‘You only think of yourself.’ She says. 

‘You only believe you’re superior because you abandoned the only people who’ll ever care for you.’

But they never cared for you. Not in the slightest.

You were the only descendant of the new-age family line that didn’t reside under the roof of Saltburn, causing waves in the circles of old money when you took your trust fund (and dignity) in a single palm and vanished to New Mexico. 

Nevertheless, to maintain access to the trust fund, you have been spending the entirety of every summer with your bloodline you inherently disowned. Money was the bottom line, the bottom line of every transaction you make with your parents. Which wasn’t a problem in the slightest, considering in their eyes, how much you were worth was the only thing cardinal about you.

You had stayed summers long enough to recognize the twisted, Catton-branded pattern your brother, Felix, had fallen into. In your eyes, he wasn’t fit to be claimed the bloodline heir. His blood is unsavory and debilitated. During the presidency of his birth, Elspeth had been participating in affairs with men who would’ve directly tainted both the reputation of the family name. As well as the bloodline.

The crimson redness of your dagger-shaped nails clinks along the side of the thin wineglass in your palm. Those morals of clean blood had been hammered into your head for decades, no matter how much your mother preached her modernized values.

Elspeth was still the same harlot she was all those years prior. 

The exact reason why instead of disturbance, thinly veiled amusement is masked between your hues as you witnessed Elspeth’s conversation with Oliver. The wrinkle of her eye crinkled furthermore with maliciousness, masked with honeyed words. Oliver reacts in a manner especially foreign to you. The apples of his cheeks pinken as Elspeth momentarily offers a palm toward the muscle of his arm, a singular touch as Oliver’s lips clamped together. Unable to respond for a beat of a moment. The cogs behind Oliver’s eyes turn and work soundlessly, having to be coorused by Elspeth herself to respond. 

Oliver was a stark difference from Felix’s past pets, brought to the household each summer for the entertainment of all. You observe him thoroughly, without shame. Nobody would question you anyway, especially the Catton children. The food chain of the bloodline stands unquestioned with Felix toppling all competition. But you were there first, and the force of that power still stands. 

All that you knew was that Oliver would be at the very bottom. A stark, white rabbit amongst the lions and wolves. The sheep's clothing they wear? Deteriorated. 

And you’d die for a chance to snap your jaws around his neck.

Even though you were barely a decade older compared to the other descendants of the Catton name, your tastes in sexuality had simmered. You have had your fair share of flings, basking in sensual attention like how your younger relatives are receiving nowadays. 

You’ve made the stark assumption that only a few strains of men and woman could cause that familiar warmth to unfurl within the depths of her core. But you were solely mistaken, as the cobalt hues of Oliver Quick met yours. They withheld the sweetest traces of caramel that caused something to stir. Something that caused the top of your bare thighs to squeeze together absentmindedly.

Oliver’s once-pinkened cheeks redden once again. He was the first to look away.

Run, bunny, run. The words bounce around your skull aimlessly, as if the density of your head were hollow. Your only set intention was the young man across the cherry-wood table, and how your lips curl upward at the thought. 

An unmistakable atmosphere of tension ridged itself between the two. Unmistakeable enough for Oliver to virtually scramble from his chair with a lowly hinged creak as soon as the black-tie dinner was to be dismissed, disappearing into the estate’s foyer without another word. In the process, silencing the remainder of the table as they escape the metaphorical weight of their chairs.

‘Someone had to go.’ Farleigh snarks, expression feigning boredom.

Elspeth offers a scoff in turn, though the weariness of her hues twinkle with stuffed amusement. ‘Don’t be silly, Farleigh.’

On the other hand, Felix’s brow wrinkles. You tune out the roar of masculine voices and a battle of ego as the two relatives bicker over the treatment of their guests. The hypocritical bounds and leaps of their voices were enough for your meal of fancy, fickle steak and fluffy, mashed potatoes to churn in your stomach.

As much as Felix preaches for his adoration of Oliver Quick, the entire household – even the thinness of the estate walls – knows that he’s only a temporary fix to his hunger for the disadvantaged. Viewing himself as a saint, veiling the sin that reverberated inside. Even Felix is willing to slip unsavory words about Oliver’s history before their friendship, especially his mother’s drug addiction. 

You shortly realized you were the only one who hadn’t uttered a single word about Oliver. Yet, at least.  You were the only person under the Catton's roof. You’ve maintained formality, and politeness in the scarce cases of passing the salt along the length of the table. But there was nothing polite in the way the relentless azure of his eyes bored into your own, obstructing every value and moral you’ve ever known.

They always said curiosity would eventually kill the cat. The claws of your nails threaten to dig into the hitch of your thigh, deep to the point of drawn blood.

You needed to know about him.

The soles of your crimson-sheathed heels click against the top of the blemishless floorings. The space between your shoulder blades bur without missing a beat, bound to be from the hawk-eyes of Elspeth Catton and her descendants that followed. Nevertheless, you push past the judgment and persevere forward toward the same foyer Oliver had vanished into.

The double-storied entrance room was as grand as the rest of the estate. Dark 

strains of oak are the main attraction, revealing the old-money origins of Saltburn. Jars of incense sticks decorate the occasional corner, the passionate white musk filling the atmosphere, tickling the back of your throat as you inhale.

The peace-brimming silence is sliced with a stressed rummaging from the door placed offside, shielded behind the wood-trimmed stairway. You prided yourself on minding your own business, but you couldn’t help but shuffle a tad closer. Enough to catch a glimpse of a singular bead of light, trickling out of the gap the door had made.

You cursed the thrum of your heels as you ventured closer. Hand strained against the top of the engraved door, sending strained words to the universe as you threaten to inch it wider and wider open.

All that secrecy disappeared from your body at the sight of Oliver Quick. It took you a few, prolonged seconds to recognize the young man amid the shadows. The sight of his scruffy, pale knees pressed against the ground. A crown of wavy, brunette locks shielded the focused curve of his eye as he rummaged through something. You couldn’t help it, fingers curling to widen the door a little more.

Creak.

Nothing could prepare you for what you witnessed before you. Even the panicked alarm that flares in the cobalt of Oliver’s hues goes ignored as he virtually snaps his head toward you. Amid his hands, various Catton heirlooms have gone untouched. Useless to some, priceless to others, and you guessed Oliver had made his mark on that.

‘What in the world are you doing with Aunty Start’s Apollo earrings?’

The words escaped you in a rush. Who knew that that your snow-white, innocent bunny had nefarious means within the Catton family? You exaggerate aunty’s last name, a slight teetering edge of glee trickling into you at the sight of grieving recognition that filled Oliver’s eyes.

 You stepped fully into the doorway.

‘I wonder what Farleigh would think about that.’

Oliver didn’t take the threat lightly, notable by the slight shake in his voice. “You wouldn’t.” He insisted. His hands scrambled, and the box propped between his fingers slipped and clattered across the oak of the storage room’s grounding.

The sole of your heel slams against the bottom of the door, widening it entirely. You entered the room with a click of the underside of your shoes, reverberating throughout the suddenly too-cold, too-hollow room you found yourself in. The only sense of illumination is the light from the foyer, trickling into the suddenly too-compact expanse.

You crouched down. Knees hitting the base of the flooring similarly to Oliver’s own, barely a foot or two away. You could hear the tameness of his breaths. The sharp, panicked gasps and swallows that only made your lips twist upward. The threat was there, looming over Oliver’s head, choking him by the throat.

‘Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. You decide, Ollie.’

‘How–’

The length of your fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks, pressed into the slight hollowness that would follow. Silencing him in turn. The splinters of illumination from the doorway behind them manage to offer an iridescent glow toward the plumpness of Oliver’s lips as you squeeze half of his alluring face. 

You hadn’t expected the first, proper interactions with Oliver Quick to wind up in his manner. But you have no intention to stop. The fashion in which his eyes bore into your own, gaze hawk-like as he stared down at you. Eyelashes fluttering. Pupils dilated.

A wave of awareness rolled through you at the sight. Those same splinters of warmth unfurled in the base of your abdomen.

‘What are you doing here, Oliver?’

Your digits eased around the sides of his face to allow him to speak. The cheeks you once grappled somewhat pinkened once more, face glowing under your undivided attention.

Oliver’s breaths grew slower and slower. As if your touch drunken him.

‘Felix invited me,’ his words were borderlining a whine, scrambling to explain himself. ‘For the summer.’

The base of your eyebrows drew together darkly. The amusement reverberating in your eyes dissolved into a slight annoyance. Your fingers traveled toward the curve of his chin, taking it into your possession in a rough matter it sends Oliver’s eyes to rounden in response. He was a sick, sick liar.

He corrected himself, in seconds. ‘For revenge.’

‘Revenge?’

Despite your concentration, you hadn’t realized the lack of distance placed between you and Oliver. The proximity is intoxicating. To the point in which you felt the soft exhale of his breath fan across the form of your painted lips. His scent disturbed the twist of white musk and dust in the air, catching you off guard.

You dipped your head further upward. A single breath away from his own. 

Oliver’s words scrambled from his parted lips, each syllable trembling. ‘Revenge.’ He confirmed with a singular breath.

That singular breath that was virtually snatched away from him as you captured those plump lips with your own. A warm hum of pleasure buzzes throughout your body, sensations setting your nerves on fire as your mouth brushes across his.

You retreated into yourself momentarily. Ears perked up as Oliver drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a glimmer of euphoria. He inched forward. A small movement that confirmed the lust that sparks behind his hues. 

Honeyed heat circulated throughout your body as your lips locked with his own. Threads of that same heat were found within each movement of their mouths. Your cheeks burnt with stuffled anticipation. 

A soft, strangled noise reverberates toward the back of Oliver’s throat as your hands enter the proximity of his caramel-like locks. Soft to the touch, feathery. The pads of your fingers curled against his scalp. Curling. Tugging. Kisses growing with heat and passion, further and further until Oliver was a mess between your two palms.

Oliver virtually whined as you pulled away. The lipstick you had carefully applied the hour prior smeared across the edge of your oh-so-swollen lips.

The pad of your thumb ran across the form of your mouth, the crimson red dirting the length of her digit. She pulled a single finger along Oliver’s lips, smearing the remnants of the lipstick.

‘And what are you doing with my family’s heirlooms?’ You inquired, words soft with sensuality. Masking it with a casualty as you press onward. Thumb pressed immensely into the dimple of his cheek, ruddiness staining the ivory of his skin.

Oliver leaned into her touch. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

You knew that there was a nefarious nature in his intentions. You removed your hand entirely and raised to your feet on two heels. The sound of your soles meeting the oak floor echoes out, bouncing against the walls as you approach an ancient, traditional desk. Draped with a translucent cover. It was considered to be as old as the estate itself, yet you had no problem sitting all over it. 

Oliver watched in the process. Eyes rounded a remnant of a bashful doe. A spark of recognition appeared behind those eyes as you inclined a singular fingertip toward the space before you.

‘On your knees.’

You took a bound of pleasure watching as Oliver dropped before you. Those knees strained against the ground. Trickles of arousal unfolded in your abdomen, nerves set alight and anticipation fluid within you as he came eye-to-eye with the satin fabric that shielded your cunt. And it was hard to miss the stained wetness.

‘Y’know what? I don’t think Felix would be too happy if he–’

‘You can suck off my brother later, but you’re serving me now. Or everyone will know whatever betrayal you’re planning against them.’

Oliver choked back any other remaining protests. Witnessing as your undergarments rolled down your hips, down the curve of your thighs, sliding along your calves, and dangling from the top of your ankle. Exposing your womanhood entirely to him, your legs widened a little further. 

At the sight, Oliver leaned forward. Willing to comply. A foreign, almost animalistic thirst reflects in the light of his hues. Only halted by a singular palm. Your fingers propped atop the strewn locks atop his head, restraining him from reaching the wetness he yearned for. 

‘I’m gonna ask you this again, and this time you’re telling me the truth, bunny.’

Your words were slow. Diligently pronounced and purposeful with each syllable.

‘What are you doing with the heirlooms?’

‘I just need–’ His words escaped in fluent gasps. Your skin prickled as Oliver’s trembling breaths fanned your womanhood. ‘I just needed some dirt on Farleigh.’

‘Oh yeah?’

The length of a singular leg of yours gradually intertwined around Oliver’s shoulders. Your hand eased up as you nudged him closer toward you. He willfully allows you to guide him, nose practically touching the top of your mound. 

His words continued with a shuddered puff, eyes virtually glazed over.

‘Something that’ll disappoint your parents.’ Oliver dwells upon his reasonings further.

‘And Felix?’

He nods.

‘You dirty,  dirty dog.’

Those words only fuelled Oliver further. And before you could even consider knowingly degrading him once more, the searing heat of his tongue is pressed against the slickness of your folds. He works his mouth against your cunt, movements growing sloppier and sloppier as he basks in the sexual validation he receives. The length of your fingers find themselves in his hair once more, fluffed, brunette strands coddled around your fist as you squeeze your legs around him.

The pleasure that you receive from his mouth alone is indescribable. Honeyed, warm ecstasy maneuvers throughout you. That familiar space between your thighs aches, even as Oliver’s lips latch onto them. Merely fuelling the fire that runs hot underneath your skin, alighting your nerves on fire.

“Fuck…” You can feel him grin around you.

A finger shortly accompanies the consumption of his tongue. And Oliver’s fingers are undeniably long, pale fleshed worked down to the knuckle with the force of a few pumps. He adds another. Then another. Stealing a moan or two from the depths of your throat, forcing you to clamp your lips shut. If anyone walked in. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

You bucked your hips into his fingers as Oliver worked you open, curling into you without faltering. Plunging his digits into you, again and again until you were breathless. Calves curled around him, guiding him further and further toward your sensitivities. Welcoming his mouth back onto you once more.

Oliver’s lips latched longingly onto the little pearl lining your entrance. He murmurs sweet nothings into you, fingers easing their pace until you can only hear the subtle quickness of your heaving breaths. And his whispers. Whispers of how wet you are, and how much he longs to quench that thirst. Again and again. On his knees, basked in his most vulnerable state.

Just for you. Oliver both in time, curls his fingers and squeezes your bud. Unleashing a wave of fire that takes you by the throat, walls squeezing around the length as you come undone. Shockwaves virtually gripping you. Tremors guide you back from your high as both grunts and moans of approval escape you.

Oliver glows under the attention. He peers up at you, through the intensity of his thick lashes. Doe eyes blinking occasionally, innocently, as he pops those fingers into his mouth where he once tasted you. Suckling. Tongue flittering around the pad of his digits.

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’ Your words were more of a statement than an assumption. The pulsing of your newfound arousal doesn’t show in the slightest, only glimmering behind the intensity of your eyes.  You weren’t done with your bunny, not yet anyway.

Oliver’s fingers escape his lips with a reverberating pop. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

You reach downward briefly. Taking the lace of your panties with a single hand, guiding the garment around the base of your heels. Abandoning them on the dust-soaked floor. Those same heels meet that same grounding.

‘I didn’t take you for a fuckboy, bunny.” You practically spit, taking pride in how his eyes wobble slightly at the force of your filthy, filthy words. A short snap fills the room as you indicate your hand towards the oak tiles. 

‘On the floor.’

Oliver doesn’t say anything less, finding his body sprawled out before you. Essentially submitting himself to you in the process, something that ignites that oh-so-familiar heat in the pit of your belly. You stand over him, relinquishing in how he stares up at you, willing for you to do anything to him.

‘Pants off.’ Your words are snappy and insistent. You almost feel like that spoiled little one you used to be as a child, one who would get anything you would desire. ‘You don’t need them.’

Oliver’s fingers work to untangle his belt, loosening the dark fabric of his pants.  The material rolls down his hips, his hardness is immensely visible through the thinness of his boxers. The bulge accompanying the arousal that burns throughout your entire body, abdomen unfurling with that oh-so-familiar heat. 

You drop down toward him, legs clamped down on either side of Oliver’s thighs. You are squeezing them somewhat. The curve of your palm cups the fabriced nature of his manhood, causing a soft moan to escape him. 

‘[Y/N]...’ The broadness of Oliver’s hands grapple the frame of your hips, the warmth of his fingers curling around you. He virtually buckles up into you, against your bareness. A motion that causes your lips to curl up into a lazy smirk. 

‘Repeat my name, bunny.’ The pad of your fingers tease the rim of his boxers.

Oliver’s breath shudders. ‘I’m begging, [Y/N].’

A gradual, mocking roll of your eyes overtakes you nevertheless as you tug the thick material down. They roll and crinkle along the bottom of Oliver’s thighs, allowing for him to spring out for full reveality. For you and you alone. A low whistle fills the emptiness of the room as you observe his girth. Oliver is virtually trembling under the intensity of your gaze as you curl a fist around the length of his shaft, taking delight in how he buckled into you.

‘Be patient now.’ The words escape you with a scoff as you feign annoyance.

Oliver quietens in your demand. Alas, as you position yourself above him, you can still hear the raspiness of his breaths and the pleasure you take in the stink of desperation high in the air. He buries himself into you with a singular thrust, merely forcing a soft groan at the initial discomfort at he fills you. Stretches you out. Your hips slap against his own as you buckle up and down across his length, Oliver mimicking your movements to a tee.

You arch into him, soft noises of pleasure escaping you as he manages to claw ecstasy from you with every singular thrust. Your inner walls clutched around him, causing Oliver to drop his head back, gasping your name out as if it were a prayer. As if he were on the verge of life and death.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘Yes?’

It’s odd how the two of you presented the conversation as if you weren’t rutting your entire life and soul into him. Onto him. Oliver continues to writhe around some more, arching himself into you, again and again. The whiteness of his cheeks is notably flushed with arousal.

‘I’m about to –’

You slow down your pace until you’re merely mounting him, the lack of movement causing a groan of sexual frustration to claw from Oliver’s throat. The side of your thighs squeezes around his hips for extra exaggeration as you proceed to speak, merely unphased, even as you are reaching your release.

‘Jesus, Ollie, don’t be so fuckin’ greedy.’

You scold through hitched breath and hushed moans. His girth is warm inside you, and something about that is so utterly pleasing.

‘You aren’t to come unless you’ve pleased me enough.’

The demand causes Oliver’s head to loll back with esteemed annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything. It merely prompts the width of his hands to press into your hips, beginning to rock himself into you. It steals a moan out of your lips, but the sight of his desperation is a sight of see indeed. You arch further into him as he ruts against the exact spot that causes you to see stars.

The length of your hand folds around the back of his neck. ‘Right there, bunny, oh, you fuckin’ beast!’

Closer now. Closer now.

‘Say my name, [Y/N].’ Oliver heaves with strained breath, holding back on his orgasm has done numbers on him.

You wack him across the back of the head.

‘That’s my line, dickhead.’

Alas, the words barely escape your lips as the boiling and bubbling dam within you snaps and crashes. You dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure. Nevertheless, whatever you had said, Oliver’s name played on your lips in something that bordered screams. Tremors of ecstasy fill you as Oliver continues to pound into you, guiding you throughout your orgasm in your most vulnerable moment.

Aftershocks spark within you as you go limp, pulling yourself together with heaved breath and glazed eyes.

‘Have I pleased you enough, then?’

Oliver’s voice is hoarse, tearing you out of your orgasm-fuelled trance.

‘It’ll do, bunny.’

But before, Oliver can even consider his release. You rise from your previous position, his girth sliding out of you with ease, glistening with your slick. You tug the fabric of panties around your hips and back in place, glancing in a dust-covered mirror as you adjust your appearance. To make it seem as if you haven’t spent the past half hour having the life sucked out of you.

‘[Y/N] –’

Oliver’s protests rise in the air, falling upon deaf ears as you proceed to exit the room itself. The bottom of your heels thud against the wood-slicked tiles as you reenter the dining room, hope in hand. Your wordless wishes are fulfilled at once at the sight of Farleigh, who is window-watching, wine in hand.

‘Farleigh, thank God, I found you.’

Farleigh turns his head, bringing his glass to his lips.

‘What now?’ He’s waving away your presence entirely, it is clear.

As much as you despise this half of the family, you maintain a clear mind.

‘Oliver was rummaging through your mother’s heirlooms. I suggest you go, now. Heed my warning or not, I don’t care.’

A look of suspicion flashes across Farleigh’s face. His lips part momentarily in question before he thinks otherwise. Smart boy. Setting his wine down and immediately dashing past you. A yell or two sounds out a moment later, and your painted lips quirk upwards in pleasure.

You knew what Oliver was up to. It was clear from the first day you laid eyes upon the household’s guest. But no. It wasn’t up to Oliver to wipe out the Cattons from existence, even though he’d be doing the filthy work for you. It was admirable yes.

But it was your job. A job you strived to complete.

You slip your hand into the slight pocket in the fabric of your dress. Pulling out a small capsule. Your eyes narrow down on the glass of wine, vacant on the table. 

Starting with Farleigh. 

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[kickedoutofthecommunity-aces]

I hope asking advice for questioning aces is okay. If it's too uncomfortable or anything you can just ignore this.

I was looking through your blog and I found you describing sexual attraction this way:

"Sexual attraction is a different process. It's looking at someone and feeling, usually very mildly, aroused. It's looking at that person and thinking "that's someone I could have sex with" or a kind of stirring feeling in, if we want to use romance novel terms, loins."

And I was thinking, for me, sometimes I feel that mild arousal, but there's never a thought of "i could have sex with that person" and if I try to think of having sex with them (which I used to force myself to do to 'test' if it was attraction) it always felt really gross.

Was that attraction?

Anon, I will answer every question from every ace, no matter where they are. Just started yesterday? Here I am. Known you were ace for forty years but want an opinion, lay it on me. I love all questions.

So, here we go. This took a long time for me (rip, I'm in grad school), but I'm here to answer and feel like I'm uniquely prepared.

I have a really high libido. Super high. I feel arousal, probably every single day. Does that make me any less asexual? Nope. That arousal is neither because, nor directed at, a person. It isn't created when thinking of myself in sexual situations with another human being.

Sex is a very natural part of human biology and for many asexuals, they go on to have active sex lives. For others masturbation is a standard part of their routine. Others still, never have that thought and never want to think about it.

No matter if you are any of the above, or any of the thousands of possible combinations, what matters is how you feel. Do you feel asexual? Do you feel that when you look at someone that their the kind of person you could have sex with?

I can't answer that question, you have to. My guess is, from the way you've described it, that no, you're probably experiencing sexual arousal, but not sexual attraction. Especially since the thought of having sex with an actual person feels gross to you. That's pretty common amongst aces, even the ones that feel sporadic attraction.

I totally understand the confusion though. It's difficult for aces who have truly never felt sexual attraction to make that difference. For those who are further along the spectrum or gray aces, they have an easier time. They've felt sexual attraction so they know the difference.

I was like that for a long time. Pretty certain, but not 100% certain, because I just had nothing to compare it to. And, as I said, I have a substantial libido. Masturbation is a regular part of my life. What if I was lying to myself, or just "hadn't found the right person" the way everybody said.

But I can tell you that ten years into accepting my sexual identity, I have never found the right person. There hasn't been a single person who's made me feel sexual attraction. The most ironic thing about that, is that if there is indeed, one person out there you'd be attracted to, you're still ace.

Because sexual attraction isn't a one and done. It's an ongoing, regular thing. And if you're not feeling like you would honestly have sex with people you see, meet, know, imagine, then you're probably ace.

The most important thing to any acceptance journey, is always, do you feel ace? Because if you do, then yes. You are. That's just the long and short. If you feel like you are, then you are. There's no test, there's no minimum qualifications. No one's going to interrogate you.

And if they do, or they say you aren't, send them to me, and I'll straighten them out.

[synchodai]

I don’t mean to be too negative but uptil now I could kind of see how people could perceive certain events differently and choose to look at the events in the show as fair somehow but after the finale I just genuinely am baffled that the son for a son thing wasn’t addressed at all like truly had everybody in universe forgotten about b&c. I don’t wish to be so conspiratorial about this but it’s just such a exhaustingly annoying move that rhaenyra gets a whole scene of literally sewing the kid’s head back on and when it was about exploring daemon’s pain then we get such unique framing but for the green side we genuinely don’t even have a single acknowledgment like dude I feel a bit drained right now cuz I’m at a point where it’s like how is nobody seeing through this agenda and I really am hoping and praying that actual critics don’t give this episode glowing reviews cuz the writers have been shown to change things up as long as the audience is extremely vocal about it but I desperately need things to change even slightly

Hello, anon! Thank you for sharing your opinions with me. It's okay to be negative sometimes. Criticism is necessary for improvement after all. And I understand how people whose favorite characters are the greens will find this show extra frustrating to watch. Jaehaerys barely being mentioned and Daemon never being punished by Rhaenyra but somehow the blacks aren't narratively punished for that atrocity is such a travesty.

So I feel your frustration, but if you feel drained from watching the show and interacting with other viewers, then maybe it's not worth watching anymore if it brings you no joy. I only enjoy it because I detach myself from how other people see the characters and events. I try not to have my personal enjoyment be affected by how my favorite character will be treated or perceived by others. It's super validating to see someone criticize and love something as I do, but if they don't share my feelings and opinions, I try not to let it hamper me to the point that it drains my joy. And remember, you can always block people for any reason — even if it's just for having takes you disagree with.

Season 2 is definitely less consistent and well-written than the first season, but it had a writers strike to deal with. So I'm optimistic things will get better next season. However if your favorite character is one of the greens, I can understand why you would likely tune out at this point. I am deeply sorry to those on team green who were promised something else in Season 1 and ended up with...well, Season 2.

If it makes you feel any better, this show isn't without its critics — same for when Game of Thrones was at the height of its popularity, there were many who voiced their dislike of it despite rave reviews (me included). I stopped watching after they introduced Talisa Maegyr and never looked back. I guess you just have to find out when enough is enough for you, anon. I hope if you can't find pleasure in watching the show anymore, at least you can still enjoy the many fanworks that take the greens in a different direction and are more faithful to the source material. You'll always have the books that made you so invested in this world and these characters in the first place.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Louis is 'read as gay' by everybody who sees him.//

Do you still stand by this? I asked half a dozen of the new friends I met at uni last year and out of the four who'd heard of him, nobody thinks he's gay. These were the words they used: laddy, indie, Gallagher wannabe, handsome, chavvy.

Anon - It's pretty absurd to send a single sentence without context and ask if I think it's still true (let alone say if I stand by it - which suggests that me saying it then was a statement that it should always be true). But I'll try and provide some of the context and answer the question (there is almost certainly a lot of context - since it would be very unusual for me to put 'read as gay' in scare quotes).

I was never arguing that everyone thought Louis was gay - that's not what I meant when I said 'read as gay'. The classic example I give of evidence of how people read Louis is from when he was a judge on X-factor and there was a clip on googlebox. There was a contestant who was doing very sexy dancing as well as singing - and the googlebox watchers gave voice to the explicit thoughts that they imagined Simon and Robbie Williams were thinking. But nobody made a similar comment about Louis. I don't think all the googlebox people thought Louis is gay - they may not even have thought of him at all. But I think their instinctual understanding of him meant that they didn't imagine him having randy thoughts about this contestant.

Which is the other part - I'm not saying that everyone who knew who Louis was read him as gay. The X-factor example is pertinent - people who watched X-factor saw Louis for an extended period of time - something that has been quite nice since 2018

That's why I don't think what people you met at uni said about Louis is particularly relevant to what I was talking about in that quote.

************

But to answer the question - do I still think it's true? I think it's hard to know - because there's not been good evidence for how Louis is read for a while.

I do think we've learned something important since then. I wrote that before Louis was touring again - and when he hadn't performed live regularly since One Direction performed. Now that he has - I feel confident saying that I don't think he's particularly read as a gay while performing. So if I was going to discuss the same idea now I'd make that distinction.

But beyond that - you don't learn a lot from how fans talk about Louis - because the whole thing is so important to them they're less likely to reveal their first impressions. And people who aren't fans aren't getting exposed that much to Louis anymore - certainly not in the way that they were when he was an X-Factor judge (which was when the dynamic became very clear to me and when I talked about it most).

So my answer is - I don't know how Louis is read now - I'd love it if it was possible to get some information about that, but given the way he's currently navigating his career it seems unlikely that we'll get it for a while.

[areyoutheregoditsmejessica]

your post re canonbuddie stans ♥

you liking bucktaylor & megan west ♥♥

you liking bucktalia ♥♥♥

you not liking eddie ♥♥♥♥

you liking marisol ♥♥♥♥♥

your take on canonbuddie overall ♥♥♥♥♥♥

i agree with it all so wholeheartedly!!! buck and eddie literally feel like bros to me. yes, they are besties, and yes, buck has a very lovely bond with chris! but at every single point in the past 6 seasons that could have been used to give Hints to the audience that buck or eddie could ever be romantically involved with a man (or even each other), the show never took it. zero jealousy, zero hesitation to date somebody else, zero insecurity of their "family dynamic" changing when they date again, zero flirtation or appreciative looks or past experiences with men. buck and eddie are both so painfully heterosexual to this day that everybody who honestly thinks of buddie being a feasible option for a canon endgame couple is just delusional to me at this point. and i want to stress that this does not mean that people cannot enjoy and ship buddie to their hearts content! but i need people to fucking learn how to watch and comprehend a narrative realistically because things have gotten so extremely exhausting, even in the tags that are not even meant for buddie! it is everywhere, and i am so so so tired of it.

also, god, i am always so happy whenever i see somebody who enjoys buck and canon buck ships but also shares my disinterest in eddie dfjdsfk; i loved him sm in s2 but that love dwindled more with each new season, s4 and s5 eddie bored me to death. today, i am mostly just indifferent to him. i believe in marisol's power to make his scenes better lmao.

you have any wishes for bucktalia moving forward or some type of scene you'd like to see them in? i personally must see her in lingerie and/or in some really sexy outfit. i just want to stare at them being pretty and cute together, frankly speaking.

legit haven't gotten an anon ask in well over a decade hahaha so this was super neat to open the website and see <3

yes in s2, that character was one of the best male characters i had the pleasure of watching and that dwindled quickly, to the point i wish for the s1 118.

i don't wanna touch on the sexuality of anyone, even fictional characters but the writers have not gone out of their way in anyway to say they aren't straight and i think 7 seasons in, if it was in their plan it would've been done. it's a ryan murphy creation for goodness sake, if he wanted to he would've from ground zero.

i don't have much thought about them yet! they are very aesthetically pleasing. i just want them to stop having buck reinvent himself. we're on buck 345.0 at this point. (i love him and think oliver is GREAT at portraying him, but enough) i was really excited to see where buck and taylor could've gone especially given their history and how we had already been introduced to the audience and had a story independent of his. i also like how she wasn't falling at his feet and also in s4 when he basically used her and she called him out and told him he actually needed to treat her like a friend. why they just decided to take their story in the direction they did, i'll never know. they've written bathena AMAZINGLY and have done a wonderful job with madney, not sure why they aren't doing the same with buck. because after AB, PK, and JLH who came with an already established fanbase, buck/OS seems to be highly popular among the audience and deserves better writing. he was single majority of season 6, so i guess i can't say i wish he was single much longer. i hope natalia becomes a character we can invest in separately from buck. i'm pleased with what very little we've seen so far.

whoever, you are thank you for sending this! and here's to hoping we get season 7 by january 2024.

[starstruckmoony]

I am sooo glad you take requests! Feel free to decline this if you dont like the idea but can you write a fic with either James or Sirius (your choice :)) in which the reader fears intimacy and like has a hard time trusting people, which makes them not believe James/Sirius’ love so they think the flirting is just a friendship thing. And they cant understand why reader keeps running away but when they find out the reason James/Sirius tries to convince the reader to give their relationship a chance? I hope you like the idea, thank you so much in advance!!

thank you for the request anon!! sorry for taking too long with this, exams got in the way so my motivation for anything was pretty much below zero :") but i loooove this idea, so here you go! i hope you like it! <333

daylight.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x reader

trope/tags - friends to lovers, fluff

word count - 3.6k

warnings - language

sirius black was what one may call a heartthrob. winning everybody over with the snap of a finger, being the main topic on everyone's diary pages, having people fall to their knees with a simple glance sent in their direction. some wanted to be him, some wanted him. he loved the attention, of course, the thrill of having so many people fall for you was rather addicting thing for a teenager, but he wanted someone else, and that someone just happened to be you. and it wasn't just a simple type of want, the "let's snog in the broomstick closet a couple of times till i get bored of you and find another", no. he wanted all of you. sirius black was in love, but it was really not going his way this time.

"i don't know why i keep getting rejected." sirius whined hopelessly, tossing his tie somewhere on the floor in frustration and slumping down onto his bed. the mattress squeaked from the impact, making remus look up from his open book.

"you've been on nine dates." james pointed out, trying to calm the other down. nine didn't seem like a big number to him (as he had gone on at least 30 with lily before she agreed to become his girlfriend), so the poor bloke got ignored. sirius kept on rambling thoughtlessly.

"that's the bloody problem, nine dates, prongs, nine! and you know what? they weren't even proper dates. not even proper dates! do you hear that? like are you getting that? not. even. proper. dates. fuck!" sirius grunted, falling back into his pillows with a rather distressed sounding sigh. remus rolled his eyes.

"they weren't?" peter chimed in. he wasn't usually the one who showed much interest in his friends' love lives, but he sure found  whatever the hell sirius had going on with you rather intriguing.

"'it was lovely hanging out with you sirius, you're a wonderful friend.' after each and every single one so, no, don't think they were." peter felt guilty for cringing, and he could only look towards sirius with a sympathetic glance.

remus, on the other hand, was finding the situation a bit ridiculous. he simply couldn't suppress a snort, and sirius did not fail to catch it, "what are you laughing at?"

"you." he threw a pillow in remus' face.

"give it more time, mate, i'm sure it'll work out eventually." james was really trying his best to reassure his best friend, but it was never easy with sirius. especially not now that you were in question.

"don't you think i'm trying? i'm– fuck. fucking fuck." he put his face into his hands, groaning loudly in distress."i think i'm gonna go mental." he said dramatically.

"seems like you're very serious about this, sirius." remus said nonchalantly, drawing laughs from both james and peter. sirius inhaled sharply. he was, indeed, very serious about you. it wasn't everyday that he actually felt like he was falling somebody, and it certainly wasn't everyday that he, sirius black, one of the most confident blokes in the whole bloody school, was turning red trying to talk to a person. and you just kept rejecting him, subtly that is. friend this, friend that. friend, friend, friend. he loathed the word. he wanted you, and not in the platonic sense.

"you lot are shit mates, you know that?" sirius huffed angrily, crossing his arms and sulking like a frustrated toddler.

"we love you too, padfoot." james blew a kiss his way, jumping up onto his feet when sirius began chasing after him with a wand in hand. they sped down the stairs from the dormitories and into the common room - sirius was yelling and james was laughing hysterically. the pair ran past the sofa where you and lily were sitting. you were pretty sure they fell over somewhere outside the portrait hole and were probably wrestling judging by the sounds they were making.

"that's the man you fancy, huh?" marlene scoffed from the corner of the room, giving you a judgemental stare. you shrugged, scratching the back of your neck in thought. yes, that was the man you fancied indeed. sometimes you wondered why, but then he'd lock his eyes with yours and every sense of doubt and uncertainty would wipe itself away. it wasn't all that easy, though.

"and lily's gonna marry his other half," mary put a hand over her heart, "how romantic." she wiped away a fake tear.

"romantic?" marlene said in disgust.

"oh sod off, you two." lily rolled her eyes. "sirius isn't half-bad." her way of speaking was so honest, it was suspicious. you squinted your eyes at her skeptically.

"what? can't really chat shit when my boyfriend is basically the same, minus the lack of critical thinking and self-awareness." lily winked at you. you put your face into your hands, screaming into them. you heard mary snicker.

"are we talking about the same james?" marlene teased, raising an eyebrow. you suppressed a laugh.

"we get it, you hate men." remus rolled his eyes as he appeared in the common room, and let himself fall onto the couch right next to you. he stared at you in amusement when he noticed your regretful expression.

"something on your mind?" he questioned.

"sirius," mary coughed, "sirius." she coughed again.

"oh." remus laughed to himself, and then went quiet. you thought, hoped, that the conversation would come to an end there, but remus had different intentions.

"do i create drama or not?" he said in thought, trailing his eyes over you and your friends. you pursed your lips in thought.

"oh, please do, the last interesting thing that happened was when marlene and dorcas were found snogging in the forbidden forest after attempting to use the imperius curse on one another." mary said desperately.

"and that was two months ago." lily added.

"i hate all of you." marlene made a face, and stuck a hand down her pocket to pull out a cigarette.

"alright then," remus smirked, throwing an arm around you, "sirius threw a tantrum about five minutes ago because you keep rejecting him." your eyes widened. you stopped breathing for a moment. what the hell?

lily's jaw dropped in amusement, marlene burst out laughing, and mary appeared to be coming up with plans on how to organise your wedding ceremony. for real this time.

"i'm sorry, what? he what– he did– remus–" you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to form them. sirius fancies you. you flung yourself backwards into the couch, your face was painted with worry. sirius black threw a tantrum because you rejected him. sirius fucking black threw a tantrum because you rejected him. "merlin's bloody beard, what the hell?" you ran your hands through your hair, exhaling exhaustedly.

luckily, none of your friends were that oblivious, and they quickly noticed that you weren't taking piss acting like nothing of this sort had ever actually been brought to your attention.

"hey, why the face? that's good news!"

"am i experiencing the consequences of miscommunication again?"

"i thought you fancied him!"

"are you okay?"

questions, so many questions and shocked and confused faces left and right. as much as you hated to admit it, you did owe them an explanation. this wasn't the only occasion on which people tried to tell you sirius was into you, but it was different this time because it was coming from remus. sirius was into you. he was into you. he was fucking into you. he wasn't just playing around like he does with others.

"i know, mary. and no, remus. and yes, i do, marlene. and honestly, lily, i don't know." you said it all in one breath, tiredly sighing. you'd been head over heels for the man for years, yet it always felt off. no one knew why though, you never brought it up. your friends knew you fancied him, but you never dared to tell them why you were pushing him away whenever he tried to initiate something. in truth, you were afraid of relationships and you feared intimacy. it wasn't something you could just overcome overnight. you had a difficult time trusting others and you were always vary of who you shared your secrets with and who you would open up to, anyway. so the thing was, it only became worse when it actually came to dating and falling in love.

to top it all off, sirius was naturally flirty, so you too, naturally, brushed it off and chalked it up to his normal, daily behaviour. you'd seen him jokingly flirt and kiss james, and mary, and marlene, and even remus who slapped him for it once, so you simply couldn't envision sirius returning the feelings when he was acting like every single one of his friends was also his significant other. all of that put together felt like an absolute train wreck and you didn't know what to do about it.

both lily and remus soon had their arms around you, and were looking at each other as if they were trying to find a way to telecommunicate and figure out what was wrong. marlene and mary moved over from the corner they were sitting in to the floor, and they were in front of you, with worried and comforting eyes.

"you can say what's wrong, y/n, it's alright." mary said, squeezing your knee reassuringly.

"we won't tell a soul." marlene added with a smile.

"it's just that– i'm– fuck," you started, not knowing if you should talk. you met lily's troubled expression and swallowed the lump on your throat,"i'm so horrified of relationships and sirius is– he doesn't– i thought he was just fucking around and i don't even know if i can trust him to not break my heart and i just– he's the same with everyone, you know, flirting and and all that and i don't want to be hurt and it feels like shit. actual, fucking shit. and intimacy– merlin, don't even get me started– it's scaring me, all of it. and then in the end– i just start feeling like i won't ever be loved, like truly loved, you know?"

"y/n–"

"don't 'y/n' me and try to say you understand." you snapped, "do you know what it feels like? looking at everyone around you all cuddly and giggly with their boyfriends and girlfriends and then feeling like you're going bloody mental because you want it too but you're fucking terrified of it all and then you can't tell if the guy you're into likes you back or not because he flirts with anything that fucking moves and breathes? no, you don't." you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, and then tried to wiggle out of lily and remus' grasp, but they held you back.

"listen, to me, y/n. it's okay, alright? you're not going mental, or insane or anything like that. and i can assure you're not the only one who's felt like that before." remus said the words a bit unsurely, but not untruthfully. you leaned your head onto lily's shoulder.

"but, what can i do about it? i can't just ignore it all and hope it goes away." you said honestly. you had no idea what to do, and you were afraid that you had no other option but the one you wanted to avoid most.

"well, talking to sirius would be a good start." mary suggested. the other three nodded along.

"and then what?"

"then, assuming that he'll understand what you're saying, you'll feel better and maybe even get a boyfriend who will accept your fears won't force you to do things you don't want to do." lily finished, smiling affirmatively.

"but what if it doesn't work?"

"fuck him." marlene said without thinking, "no really, fuck him. you deserve someone way better, not some slimy prat who can't even respect the person he bloody fancies."

"fuck who and when and where?" sirius entered the common room, appearing rather dishevelled.

"speak of the devil." remus spoke under his breath.

"definitely not you, black." marlene stood up from the floor, returning to her spot in the corner and picking up her cigarette which was sitting in a make-shift ashtray. he flipped her off, and then ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

the following week, something shifted. it's not like you and sirius drifted apart, you didn't, but he stopped being... him? no more hand touching, no more kisses on the cheek. but there were more questions, more asking of what you're comfortable with rather than just doing it immediately. and that's when you began suspecting he overheard your conversation with remus and the girls as you had sort of forgotten him and james were just outside the portrait hole.

in reality, that wasn't really the case. sirius just became kind of, well, depressed. after his little outburst in the dormitories, he lost all of that little hope he had for starting a relationship with you. he didn't know what he was doing wrong, and why you kept putting him in the friendzone when his friends had been telling him that you were clearly into him. was it you? was it him? was it neither of those things?

he became cautious. didn't want to touch you anymore, scared thinking that it upset you. didn't want to flirt with you either, terrified that it made you feel uneasy. his melancholy over it all began projecting onto everybody else around him.

james gave up on attempting to comfort him because he himself was too exhausted by sirius' constant state of dread. peter stayed out of it. and remus, well, remus was fed up with him and would have probably murdered him on a couple of occasions if james wasn't there to jump in and snatch his wand away.

"i still don't know what i did wrong. can someone tell me what i did wrong? 'cause i don't know what i did wrong!" sirius buried his face into his pillow, screaming into it. same thing, over and over, every day, every night.

james and peter glanced at each other, no words exchanged, and they both pretended to be occupied with something else. remus tried his best to ignore him, and continued writing the essay he was working on.

"is there something wrong with me? like geniuenly is there? am i fucked up? oh no, i might be fucked up, what if i really am?" remus' quill snapped. james let out a huff of frustration. peter hid in the bathroom. and sirius kept talking.

"y/n hates me, i just know it. it's 'cause i'm fucked up, that's what i get for–"

"merlin's beard, will you shut up?" remus finally snapped. sirius pouted, looking up at the ceiling with glossy eyes. the other boy sighed, standing up from his own bed and walking over to sirius'. he wasn't planning on ratting you out, you were supposed to talk to sirius and tell him everything yourself, but remus was tired. tired of looking at his friend go through a major case of self-destruction, and tired of having to endure it all. so remus talked, maybe when he shouldn't have, but he did not regret one bit of it.

***

"are you free right now by any chance?" sirius burst into your room a week later, uninvited and without making any previous announcements.

"uh–" you dropped your notebook and quill, awkwardly tossing them to the side, "yeah, definitely. "

"fantastic, let's go." he grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets and trotting out of the room. you stood up from your bed and quickly put on some shoes, following after him. you happened to pass by james who gave you a pat on the shoulder. one more reason to think him and sirius know. great. fantastic. amazing. the lake was looking rather attractive today.

"where are we going?" you asked once you were by sirius' side.

"was thinking about a walk, nothing too crazy."

"oh, yeah, that sounds nice."

that's what you did. walked and talked around hogwarts, and in the end found yourselves sitting at the said lake despite the  clouds which started covering the sky. sirius never brought up what happened the week before, but you weren't sure if you could stay quiet any longer. it stressed you out more than all of your stupid exams combined, and really, he was going to find out one way or another.

"are you alright?" you asked. not a bad start, you told yourself.

"mhm, why wouldn't i be?" he responded, falling backwards into the grass in sighing in content. you followed his movements, lying flat onto your back.

"i don't know, you're too... alert. acting like i'd break if you touch me or something." you said, fumbling with your hands.

"what?" he turned his head to the side to look at you.

"you heard what i said that night on saturday, after we got back from hogsmeade, didn't you?" you were looking at him too.

"what are you on about–"

"how i said i fancy you but i'm scared of dating you because i'm horrified of getting intimate and i don't know if i can trust you not to hurt me?" you explained, thinking that it would help him remember. or stop playing around with you. he was quiet. you regretted speaking, and were ready walk off, and probably would have if he hadn't grabbed you by the hand when you tried to.

"no, wait! just wait, please." he choked out. and so you did.

"i stopped it all because i thought you didn't feel that way about me," he began, you listened attentively, "everyone told me that you did, and that it would work out and stuff, but i don't know, you always made sure i knew i was your friend, so i figured i should stop pestering you and just settle for that instead." he finished with a shrug.

"oh, no, sirius." you groaned, hugging your knees to your chest and burying your face into them. "and then, uhm," sirius licked his lips, as if he was trying to find the right way to form whatever he was going to say, "remus told me, uh, the same thing you just did." you looked up and at him, scanning his face for any sign of judgement and disappointment, but there was none of it.

"i was convinced he was taking the piss at first or trying to set me up for embarrassment or something 'cause i was getting on his nerves, don't even know what was going through my head," he laughed at himself, "but then i thought about what he said, and i was trying to find a way to talk to you and uhm..." he scratched the back of his head. "turns out i'm not that cool. every time i told myself i'll try, i felt like running off somewhere and hiding 'cause i was horrified you'd reject me. still am, honestly but that doesn't matter 'cause i still– i still wanna be with you, y/n."

you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. sirius black left you speechless once again. he wanted to be with you, even after knowing that what he might get won't be like all of those others relationships he's had before.

"look, i really like you, and i don't think i've ever felt that way about anyone. i know that it doesn't sound convincing coming from me, but it's true. i wanna be with you, like i really, really do because i love you and i–" he cursed silently. a smile began forming on your face, and he wasn't even done yet. "can you give us a chance, please? i'll talk to you, you'll talk to me, we'll communicate everything, if i'm doing anything that's bothering you i'll stop, i'll ask questions, i'll try my best to make it feel right for you, i'll fullfill any wish you have–"

"sirius."

"and if you still don't feel ready or if you're still having doubts, it's okay. i'm not gonna force you to date me, we can be just friends, or break up and still be friends, or break up and never–"

"sirius!"

"what?"

"stop talking."

"okay."

"we can date."

"what?"

"i'll give you a chance."

"oh." he stared out at the lake in shock, his mouth hanging open slightly. "oh!" he turned to look at you, and the smile that stood on his face was brighter than any star in the sky. he pressed his own hands against his cheeks, touching the as if he was trying to check if they were warm or not.

"am i turning red?"

"a little bit." you snickered, your eyes never leaving him. the relief you felt was indescribable. you'd gone out with him today, terrified of what might happen, thinking that you'll lose him forever. and then there you were, with sirius black blushing right in front of you because he was madly in love with you.

"can i uhm–" he cleared his throat, shaking his head for a moment in attempt to get out of the haze that he was stuck in, "kiss... you...?"

"yeah." you said the words in a small voice. the panic on sirius' face was pretty noticeable, and you would have probably laughed in his face to cope with awkwardness you were feeling yourself if he hadn't kissed you before you could. he hesitantly cupped your cheek with his hand, but when you let yourself relax into his touch, he was calmer too.

you pulled away from each other after a few seconds, and you could see that sirius was having hard time holding back a grin. this time you laughed in his face, he laughed at you for laughing at him, and the cycle only continued.

[fallout-lou-begas]

i tried playing elden ring but felt like i only kept dying for no reason. it seems like everybody else is having fun but there's something i'm just missing. i was playing as a bandit, is that just a bad class?

hello! i have some general advice before here but here's some more:

If you're coming to Elden Ring from Elder Scrolls or something please know that you absolutely cannot just try to out-damage your opponents by mashing the attack button in their face. Combat requires more strategy, so get good at isolating and prioritizing targets, evasion and dodging, and more advanced guard techniques like guard counters or ripostes.

If you're struggling against enemies with shields, or struggling with enemies shrugging off your attacks, it's because you're not hitting them hard enough. The heavier the weapon, the more likely it is so stagger your opponent, especially with more powerful attacks such as charged attacks or jumping power attacks. Trying to just out-damage an opponent with a flurry of weak attacks is just going to get you hit back, but a hit-and-run style of play with fast and light weapons is especially good if you can get a hold of weapons that cause blood loss (like the bandit's great knife) or other dangerous afflictions.

Archery is not very powerful in this game. In most other games you can be a supercool stealth archer or sniper character but this game is not balanced to make archery particularly powerful, because range is so inherently such a large advantage. Where archery especially shines is at luring single targets away from a group or applying afflictions with arrows that cause blood loss, poison, etc. Longbows deal much more direct damage per shot and also have much more range than shortbows, but shortbows can be fired from horseback as well as immediately out of dodges and jumps, so I personally prefer shortbows for that fast-paced gameplay they afford.

If you're insisting on playing a bandit, you should try to get good at parrying, the default skill on your starting shield, the buckler. The buckler has the best default parry in the game, and parrying weapon attacks can open enemies up for devastating critical hits, which are the main advantage of daggers. Backstabs are also great, too, and you can get them against any humanoid foe with their back turned, even in combat, not just against unaware targets. I personally never vibed much with parrying but you may get the hang of it.

If playing as a bandit isn't too important to you, then I genuinely recommend starting over and trying a few other starting classes. Your starting class isn't actually that important, since you can acquire so many tools so quickly and customize your stats so much in the long-run, and eventually reallocate your stats entirely after beating the shardbearer in Liurnia of the Lakes, but each starting class has a very distinct feel and set of starting tools that you'll either like or you won't. My husband actually started as a bandit and struggled a lot, then tried the prisoner and also struggled, before things finally clicked when he played as the warrior. I recommend trying Vagabond, as in my experience having such heavy armor and investing well into vigor and strength gave me the resilience and the tools I needed to learn a lot of fundamentals.

I've yet to truly enjoy sorcery myself but the Astrologer class and the abundance of ranged glintstone spells may appeal to you if direct combat is too difficult or otherwise unenjoyable. Incantations are a lot of fun and more versatile than sorcery, but your options are a lot more limited in the early game unless you know exactly where to beeline.

I hope you find something that works for you, anon!

[heavensenthearty]

I read the post you reblogged about Zutara and colonization and about what happens in your country and wanted to let you know I am sorry you are treated that way in your country. You deserve running water, electricity, steady supply of necessities, etc. People have no right to judge you.

TW // Starvation, torture, slavery, death, child death, genocide, graphic depictions of violence, blood, rape

*inhales deeply*

*exhales*

First of all, anon, I want you to know (ironic as it is) that this post isn't directed to you. You're wonderful, and I appreciate you and your message. I'm just tired.

Tired of privileged people telling others in third-world countries how we should feel about certain stuff, how we should act, what we should think, how much more than us they know about our own countries and languages tweeting from their fancy phones with their comfy Wi-Fi in their houses with actual furniture. And don't even give me that crap about minimum wage because everything is better than this:

This is Venezuela. This is what I see when I go out in my city only for people on the internet to tell me I'm an imperialism apologist.

What are their basis again?

Oh, that's right, I ship prince and a "peasant" in a fictional story.

Everybody is so obsessed with oppression these days, huh? Well, I've have had it with their pearl-clutching takes. Let me show them how oppression really looks like, but before we start, I just want to say I'm sorry you have to see this...

So, like I said before, according to anti Zutaras in the ATLA fandom, I deserve everything that I said about being provided with 6 hours of electricity per day, dirty water and rotten food just because I ship Zutara.

Well, lo and behold. Isn't that implying that my neighbors that don't even watch ATLA and their 7-yo children whose ribs I can discern beneath their clothes and from the other side of the street due to their malnourishment also deserve it?

Or the families that have died because they had to eat frogs they hunted themselves because that's how starved they were?

Or these kids that have to "work" finding things with value in dumpsters just to earn something to eat?

Or the people that only gets three (3) hours of electricity a day? Or the ones that haven't have electricity period (or water for that matter) ever since 2016?

The babies that have died because of the heat?

(Guys, Venezuela has an average climate of 92°, thermic sensation 104°.) (We can suffer heat strokes while inside our houses with no energy to supply temperature conditioning equipment.)

Or that the people that has been tortured in prison like this girl deserve it?

That she deserves it? ⬇️

I live... fucking here... and I ship Zutara.

THIS. IS. SO. RIDICULOUS!!

For real?! People are calling me a racist?! An imperialist?! A colonizer?! SAYING THAT I FUCKING LIKE BEING OPPRESSED WHEN I COME FROM THE COUNTRY WHERE EVERY GIRL THAT WENT TO PROTEST IN 2016 WAS RAPED AND THE MEN WERE KILLED IN PRISON?!

EVERY. SINGLE. TIME THEY SAY THAT I'M REMINDED THERE'S A PRETTY GOOD CHANCE I STILL GET RAPED IN HERE AND LATIN AMERICA OVERALL BECAUSE EVERY COUNTRY IN THIS SIDE OF THE CONTINENT IS DEAD-SET IN RAPING VENEZUELAN WOMEN!! THERE'S A PRETTY GOOD CHANCE ONE DAY THE ELECTRIC SYSTEM IN THIS MANHOLE OF A COUNTRY GOES DOWN FOR GOOD!! THERE'S A PRETTY GOOD CHANCE OUR ENTIRE NATURAL LIFE ENDS UP LIKE THIS!! ⬇️

SO MOTHERFUCKING WHAT IF SHIPPING TWO CHARACTERS MAKES ME FORGET ME AND ALL MY FAMILY COULD END UP DEAD TOMORROW AND NOBODY WOULD CARE?!

I know Twitter doesn't gives a shit about minorities or POCs and I'm on my right to be angry at the fact the only thing they do care is putting themselves on pedestals for dictating what's wrong and what's right! Oh, look the guy hailing Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and Carl Marx (altogether) is gonna preach us! According to their ideals, it is worth to receive water like this in exchange of not paying taxes! ⬇️

And I know I'm going to receive "backlash" (if it can even be called that way for this that I'm saying. Go ahead, let them send all the laughing memes that they want. With this, everybody will know they are laughing of all that blood, all those corpses.

I know I didn't write this to be tragic or worthy of enough sympathy; I told you, I'm just tired. I felt like it was time to let people know how life is for fans in my same situation.

Have you ever listened to the song Flares by The Script?

"Did you find it hard to breathe? Did you cry so much that you could barely see? In the darkness all alone, and no one cares. There's no one there."

This is how I feel all the time. I'm sorry I can't keep my emotions bottled up enough to stand with my arms crossed while ATLA Twitter goes off.

I don't regret what I wrote in here, tho. Sorry, not sorry.

[ladyinbooks]

“I have a fond little headcanon from a previous ask, that if they'd had a few extra months, Lault's plan wouldn't have worked, and the whole bunch of them would have refused orders and ended up careening around the galaxy as a team of vigilantes together..)”

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE may i inquire more about this headcanon? 🥺👉👈

Lovely Anon, of course you may! (And just know there will be a ficlet coming for you about this very subject, sometime this week. Because the more I thought about your ask, the more I wanted to write something about it!)

In the meantime, here are some of my rambles about this fond little headcanon of mine:

Ok, so I've always felt that if Lault delayed his plans for a bit longer, the whole Mas-Hain debacle probably wouldn't have happened. I mean, every single one of the men stationed there, had been sent precisely because of their skills in thinking outside of the chain of command. They showed initiative, courage and excellent questioning and analytical talents.

So, all that being said, I think had they got to know - and understand - one another a little better, there would have been some serious questions asked about why the humans were being told to kill their counterparts.

And honestly, the true divergence? I think it would have started with one of the other humans coming to Jay.

I think they would have come to Jay, because out of all of them he's the one who's closest to a Lenian. I mean, Samiel with an additional three or four months of unrestricted access to Jason Lane? Yeah, poor Jay would have been treated to the most obnoxiously endearing form of desperate flirting he (and anyone else) has ever run across. I think even if they hadn't reached an agreement about a relationship (or meshala), it would have been known across the base that Jay had acquired a little lost puppy of a Severne, and he's surprisingly protective of him.

And if Jay's shown the kill order by one of his fellow soldiers?

He's going to take it straight to Palek. Because hell no they're not going to do it, and he needs to get it out in the open as fast as possible. I can see Palek and Jay calling an emergency conference with everybody there, and just laying it all out. I think there'd be shock, horror and furious betrayal from the Lenians. But... I also think their anger would be directed at human Command, not at the men in the room with them.

I think the same would be true from the human perspective - why the hell are they being asked to do this? After all, it doesn't make sense. Is there a particular issue with Samiel and Jay (beyond the hilarious puppy love)? Because why are they being asked to capture Samiel and arrest Jay?

So, too many questions and no answers, which I think ultimately leads to a 'what are we going to do?' moment. And that leads to a bunch of Lenians and humans going rogue from their own peacekeeping exercise, to try and get answers. Along the way, they decide they may as well start to try and help people if they can, and carry on with their original mission: show that both sides can work together.

I think it ends up with Jay and Palek in joint command, and everyone long-sufferingly tolerating Samiel's utter adoration of his new senior officer.

Then there are lots of dashing adventures, and both sides of the war are desperately trying to capture/kill them, to shut them up and stop them from ruining years of political manoeuvrings. Finally, this results in the World's Angriest Wing Commander being sent to get them (because let's be honest, Hird's speciality is carefully aimed violence).

And then Samiel takes one look at her absolutely spitting blood and fury as they capture her ship, and he goes: 'I want to keep her. Please can we keep her?'

And that is how Jay, Palek and their merry band of vigilantes end up with a better ship, a bigger crew, and an adopted murderous tank of a woman, that only Samiel can even begin to understand.

(And then someone sends Venndred to try and negotiate with them, because I'm a softy and if you've got a Hird, you've got to have a Venndred.)

[epicspheal]

hello! I'm coming from twitter after reading your thoughts after deactivating both of your accounts, and I've thought to say that I've deeply enjoyed your thoughts and inputs regarding Pokémon and your OC lore although I've never personally reached you besides some rts and such. Your health comes first, so I wish you real good on your path to healing, it was nice to have you in the fandom! :)

Hi Anon, Thank you I appreciate your kind words! Like I said in the tweet I haven't quite decided how I want to handle everything (like completely deactivating this blog or just leaving it up but defunct). I'm just really overwhelmed with this Tumblr. I am immensely honored and flattered by all the people who have liked/reblogged/asked questions. It warms my heart to know people find me approachable enough to want to have these discussions and that people like my OCs (especially since I grew up in a time where everyone was witch-hunting OCs ready to call them Mary sues at the drop of a hat I was really anxious about talking about them). But at the end of the day, I am an introvert and at times it's a struggle to keep up with the asks and DMs I get and try to post my own original posts (be it thoughts on the franchise, or just OC posts or fanfic). I love this blog but it's become way too hard to keep up with it and I don't want people thinking I'm ignoring their asks or DMs when I'm really just too drained to even talk. It's the same with my twitter, I enjoy talking to people but I'm also just rapidly getting drained with the constant engagement.

And if I'm being frank, I'm just really burnt out on Pokemon. I came into Pokemon as a kid through the anime but I have long since stopped watching the anime religiously. And the manga well to be honest has never really grabbed my attention outside of the SwSh arc (I've never finished a single manga arc because I was get bored/annoyed with the plot). So all I had left was the games.

Pokemon SwSh reignited my love for the franchise in a way I hadn't felt since gen 5. But as I've come to realize recently, it was an outlier when it comes to Switch titles. I haven't finished Shining Pearl or Let's Go Pikachu and I quite frankly have no desire to finish them. Even Legends Arceus which I was super hyped for I am struggling to play and not because I find it difficult, but because the playstyle just doesn't appeal to me. As a Pokemon fan since 1999 I am of course happy to see the franchise innovate and take risks like it is with Legends. It needs to be done. And I am happy so many people are enjoying it. But I also realize that this direction is not what I truly desire from the franchise and that's fine. Everything isn't for everybody. So with all of this plus the fact that IRL my mental health has taken a huge nosedive I just need to step away. Again I'm still debating between completely wiping everything or just leaving somethings up but keeping a low profile from now on. I want to thank everyone again for reading and interacting with my blog. It means a lot to know how this little thing I made at the spur of the moment grew and I've met a lot of wonderful people through it. I have some asks I need to finish answering and after I'll figure out how I want to handle things.

[rumor-imbris]

Hello, Lady Connor! I want to ask out of unbearable, suffocating curiosity in my heart, even though in the previous post you already said to not mention "that certain comic". Could you please enlighten me about your view on that comic and what you despise about it? I would love to read your detailed thoughts about it even if just once. But if this is too triggering for you, I'm truly sorry for your discomfort and you don't need to answer it.

Hello, dear Anon and welcome ^-^ It's weird you naturally called me Lady Connor, as usually only my little fairy @giuliettaluce does. Well, I guess her magic put a spell on everybody here!!

If you really care to know, I'll answer, but brace yourself, it's going to be very long, almost an essay, because I can be very detailed about that comic being a failure in its every part. There's so much to say. You're right, as I mentioned before, it can trigger me, but I have attentively analized it and I know it makes not a single atom of sense. So nothing can actually bother me that much, don't worry ^_-

First of all, my general consideration of the AC Reflections comic issue #4, (yeah, that thing -.-) is that of a mere attempt to desperately make Bayek's remote vision through Senu's eyes a canon feature. It was created and published in 2017, the same year AC Origins was released and yes, they needed an excuse to make believe Connor's alleged daughter inherited a skill someone (who isn't even their direct ancestor!!) that lived 1700 years ago in ancient Egypt had! OMG, this should be funny enough, but I'll go on. Also, I think it was likely a carelessly arranged way to satisfy those AC3 fans demanding a "happy ending" for unlucky Connor (quite 5 years later, of course).

I'll better go step by step to figure out where to start from, seriously.

1) In the comic, when Otso Berg opens the file related to Connor, the scene is set in "1796: Upstate New York." Now this is chronologically and spacially incoherent and illogical. We see Connor still wears his assassin outfit in it, right? According to AC Initiates (2012) in 1804 Connor invites the Dominican assassin Eseosa at the Davenport homestead to provide him some advices and further training as he's involved in the leading of the Haitian Revolution. That's a really cool character, read about him, if you want!

So, until then Connor is still an assassin, probably the mentor (by now) of the Colonial Brotherhood. He still runs the homestead and he still commands the Aquila, I guess, he's the captain still. I calculated the distance between the homestead and the then upper NY frontier territories is approximately 260 miles (quite far nowadays with cars and planes as well). Then, why the hell should he have a family located in the forest upstate NY? It sounds very unconfortable to run back and forth to reach them and go back to take care of all the Brotherhood matters, doesn't it? Unless he knew about teleportation!!! Also, wow, he lives all alone in a nice massive villa with all the comforts of that time while his children and wife still live in a Native village constantly menaced by settlers wanting to steal their land? Beside the fact that Connor, at least in my point of view, seemed at last very familiar with european way of living by the end of the game, this leads us to the next point.

2) By the time the game and the comic are set (second half of 18th century), most of the East Coast Native tribes were facing the tragic and forced migration to western and northern territories (mostly towards Canada, protected by the British) because of all the consequences of the Revolutionary War (lost territories, failed alliances, settlers advancing and buying their lands and so on). So tells us history, unfortunately. It's a fact. And this is wisely showed to us in the AC3 main game when, after all the Kanien'kehá:ka tribes had left the territory around Connor's village (yes, even those near New York, to be clear) even Connor's own tribe at last migrates west, leaving an empty ghost village. They had remained all along to protect the secret temple, but in the end they as well were forced to leave. So, to me it's highly improbable that in upstate NY, one could still find a tribe and even if so, that Connor would let his family live there and risk their safety everyday.

3) The whole comic plot revolves around the fact that Io:nhiòte has a "special gift"... She inexplicably knows how to read the ground and find animal traces, she also can perform a perfect twisted acrobatic flip in the air and land unharmed to the ground. Do we know why? No, don't ask! xD She simply knows U.U, even if right after the next scene she slips and falls miserably down a cliff xD, but... ok!! Beside that, when Connor is far away to search for some water and is about to be attacked by a wolf hidden in the grass nearby, she sees the whole scene from the eyes of an eagle flying in the sky above her. As I said before, this reminds us of Bayek's (never clearly explained) ability to see through his eagle Senu's eyes and spot dangers and enemies. Now can you tell me why the hell this little girl has super powers and a skill Bayek had? As I said, they are not even directely related, as Bayek is not one of Desmond Miles' ancestor, we know him simply because Layla's new Animus is magical and can inexplicably read fragmented DNA from people who died a thousand years ago (it can also prepair coffee, I think!). So, where did she get that from? Magic? Mysteries of life? Convenient improbable connections for marketing's sake? We'll never know and you should simply accept that and ask no question!

4) From her height, way of speaking/moving/running, I assume Io:nhiòte is at least 8 years old, 8 - 9 minimum. She's the youngest of three siblings, who must be at least two years older than her and than each other (according to a human woman pregnancy timing!). If the comic events are set 12 years after the main game ending (1784, when Connor also starts to train the young ex-slave Patience Gibbs, arriving at the Davenport homestead with Aveline De Grandpré, according to AC IV Black Flag bonus mission with Aveline), so, this means that in that same year Connor must have found hastily the love of his life in a Native village (as if he was easy to open himself with other people after all he's been through), married her, impregnated her and seen her give birth to their first child, all in the same year when (let's not foget! xD) he still is the leader of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood at the Davenport homestead training novices. Now, this may even be possible humanly speaking, (well, if you force the things a bit and hurry up!) but highly unlikely to happen!! xD

These are the main problems affecting the logic of the comic in my opinion, the points making its foundations crumble apart. Though I'm sure there are many little others to point out, such as Otso Berg "opening" Connor's files... like what? Where did those data come out from? I remember playing AC IV Black Flag and uncovering a file where Abstergo researchers themselves closed access to his memories as there was "nothing appealing to this character anymore"! So, if no more researches were conducted on him since 2013, where did Mr Berg magically or conveniently discovered such data in 2017?

Or... do we want to talk about the cover? It shows Connor in the spirit outfit from the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, which has apparently nothing to do with the comic, since it is set in his present day and he wears his assassin standard robe. Now, I think that can be either a simple marketing choice to make the comic more appealing, as... well, that cover is so cool, let's admit that, or maybe the subtle suggestion that the events told in it are just a parallel Disney-like reality and are not to be considered true at all! xD i don't know, maybe both explanations are right.

I'm sure that the deeper i dig, the more nothing rational I'll find!

If you played the old games, if you know well the franchise and its lore, the true, good, old AC lore, you definitely realize by yourself how that comic is useless and senseless.

This doesn't mean I do not wish an "happy ending" for Connor. But I'd rather accept something coherent with the main game events and AC chronology. Also, it doesn't necessarily needs to be a "happy" ending, as they conveniently created to please complaining fans. I wished for something real... coherent with his personality, acquired life-style and endless sense of duty and values.

Maybe that's what pushed me to write my FanFic novel in the first place, after all... To give him MY OWN cohesive ending, including my love, for love is always needed, I guess.

I'm so sorry if the answer took this long in time and words, but you were warned! ^w^

Though, thank you... Seriously, thank you so much for asking. You made me reflect once more about this matter.

Come visit me again, if you want. Take care

- Rumor Imbris 🦋

P.S. Oh, and if you're interested, this is my "jelousy song", for when things like this trigger my inner witch!! xD

[bigskydreaming]

On behalf of someone who wasn't involved in fandom spaces during all that stuff you have talked about and doesn't know what most of those terms mean, could you explain a little more? This is mostly confirming what I already suspected about ao3 (and fandom in general) but it's good to know exactly what I'm talking about

So in a nutshell, LJ Strikethrough was back in 2007, when livejournal was the centralized heart of most fandoms. And the owners of the platform one weekend without warning just kinda up and purged a bunch of explicit fandom journals. (Strikethrough refers to the fact that a deleted and/or purged journal would have a strikethrough over the username).

Fandom of course was not slow or quiet about expressing its outrage, and Livejournal quickly backpedaled and said they’d been notified of problematic content by a concerned group of users, a right-wing Christian group called Warriors For Innocence.

Thing is.....this was ALWAYS bullshit, and everybody knew it.

Oh, its not that Warriors For Innocence didn’t exist, or that they hadn’t likely been spamming the hell out of LJ with complaints about content....

Its that they weren’t remotely anything new, had been around forever, are STILL around today, and NEVER HAD ANY KIND OF ACTUAL POWER.

Warriors for Innocence, you’ll find, had been an online presence for YEARS before LJ Strikethrough, and fandom content on LJ? Had been present and consistent for YEARS before LJ Strikethrough as well.

There is absolutely no stretch of the imagination in which WfI ‘just’ became aware of LJ fan communities and started spamming LJ with complaints in 2007.

And there’s absolutely NO reason why LJ would have all of a sudden felt any more compelled to GIVE their complaints any weight or feel beholden to cave to them in 2007....

Other than the fact that.....sixapart, the owners of the livejournal platform, were trying to sell said platform to a Russian corporation.

Now as to racefail.....again, in a nutshell, it was a MONTHS-long series of conversations and arguments between fans of color and professional sci-fi/fantasy writers of color, and white fans and pro sf/f writers.

And I do mean MONTHS. When precisely it began, depends on who you ask - some people cite a series of posts by sci-fi writers Jay Lake and Ben Peek saying that the sf/f genres needed to be more open and accommodating to fans of color and put more effort into representing marginalized characters, with this inciting pushback from (primarily white) fans who objected on the basis of ‘why should two white cis male writers be raising this conversation.’ While others cite it as beginning with a post by white sci-fi writer Elizabeth Bear called “Writing the Other” with this inciting pushback from primarily fans of color who objected on the basis that the post was patronizing and offensive as hell, and so were all the white writers and fans who rushed to her defense.

But regardless of when exactly it began, it most definitely did last MONTHS, with all kinds of back and forth across multiple writer and fan blogs, flamewars, etc....it ‘reignited’ with the publication of Patricia Wrede’s alternate history fantasy novel a few months after Bear’s initial post (if it ever really died down at all), and Jemisin and Nalo Hopkinson and a number of other writers of color were pretty constant presences in pushing back against the vitriol from white fans and writers, so they’re good places to start when looking up posts from the time period.

In particular though, one of the key elements that kept cropping up throughout racefail - and see if this sounds familiar - is that a recurring theme was white fans and writers being as angry at the anger expressed by fans of color as they were about the topics of racism that incited all of this (if not angrier). There were a LOT of not-so-subtle opinion pieces about how fans of color didn’t deserve to be listened to on this subject if they couldn’t be polite. Which - anyone who has followed me long knows my opinions on tone-policing (spoiler: they’re not good).

But by and large, the objections to Racefail were pretty much unilaterally about the fact that it was a conversation about racism in fiction that was happening on a large enough scale and with people of color speaking in loud enough voices that white fans AND writers COULDN’T avoid hearing about it or acknowledging it....

Because make no mistake - 

THAT was what was really pissing them off.

And then, not so coincidentally, racefail started to die down.....as more and more of fandom began migrating to other platforms....and centralizing fandom fiction on Ao3. Which - its not like I was ever tight with the particular writers who spearheaded creating Ao3, so I can’t actually speak to when and why they were inspired to create Ao3 specifically, though I do concede the timing fits for it to have been directly inspired by the events of Strikethrough...

BUT I can speak to the fact that Ao3 had existed for a good year or two by the time it really started picking up steam....

With this happening in 2009....

Right on the heels of Racefail....

Which took place almost ENTIRELY on livejournals from various sci-fi and fantasy fandoms....

Again, just to reiterate....in 2009....

A FULL TWO YEARS AFTER STRIKETHROUGH, BECAUSE LJ VERY MUCH WAS STILL A FANDOM HUB TWO YEARS AFTER EVERYONE SUPPOSEDLY ABANDONED SHIP FOR Ao3 IN ORDER TO AVOID FURTHER CENSORSHIP.

Nah.

Bull to the power of fucking shit.

(White) Fandom abandoned LJ in 2009, when fans of color got too vocal on the subject of racism to be ignored any longer.

And its not REMOTELY a coincidence that the new centralized hub of fandom, Ao3, just so happens to be infamous with fans of color for....ten years and running....ignoring every single criticism brought to them about the rampant racism present in many fandoms on their site, among other things.

Like, there is direct linkage here. Cause and effect. This is not a random series of events and never was.

Just like, after a good couple YEARS since people were even TALKING about Strikethrough anymore, let alone even recognized the fucking NAME “Warriors for Innocence”...

Strikethrough didn’t start getting pointed at as the ‘reason’ for the demise of livejournal fandoms...

Until well AFTER Ao3 was the new face of fandom.

Can’t imagine that has anything to do with fandom wanting to push a narrative that wasn’t “well actually, livejournal kinda died out as the go-to place for fandoms cuz white fans couldn’t get fans of color to stop talking about racism while they were on there, the way they happen to be able to thanks to Ao3.″

But I mean hey, what do I know? I was only there, after all.

Anyway, I think that’s the terms you were looking to have explained anon, but let me know if there was something else you were looking for.

[flying-elliska]

It's not specifically about Skam France, it's more of a general thought, so I hope you can answer it but I admit I was taken aback by the post you rebloged. I love the fact that minorities' voices are being listened to, and it's really important to not shut down the criticism. But this person basically wrote "it doesn't matter if a black man wrote it, it doesn't matter if "some" PoC liked it, if other PoC say it's racist, it's racist". And of course not everyone is gonna agree on everything, and it's good to have this dialogue, but I'm a bit confused. So it's not okay to silenced people who didn't like something, but it's okay to do it for those who did like it? I'm not even being sarcastic, it's a real question. Because I believe a lot of anons who defended the season were black, and some who screamed "racism" were white (I believe an anon PoC even said it to you). So I don't know, it's a bit confusing to me. It seems important to also not silenced those who think something is a good representation, right? Because I've just seen this with the new Shadow and Bone show, there was a lot of talks about disability. Many people were saying "it's not good rep" and a lot of disabled people who actually liked the actor's answers in a interview were silenced, because those who didn't agree were louder. And I don't really have an opinion on any of those situations, but something just doesn't feel right to me and I just thought it would be interesting to have your opinion on it.

i think if you were taken aback by that post, it’s maybe a sign that this is something you need to think about a bit more. because that’s not what the post said. (or at least, not what i understood when i reblogged it.)

to me the point was that, as white fans, we need to avoid arriving with a pre-made opinion about these matters and then cherry-pick whichever POC’s words we can use to defend this opinion. instead we need to take a seat back, and listen about the actual content of the discussion in all of its nuance (instead of immediately thinking ‘so how can i make this about me and what i think of this show’ and ‘i like this show so it has to not be racist” or “i don’t like this show so it has to be racist.” our opinion of the show is not what what should lead the way here.)

it’s not about silencing people who did like the show ; it’s about making sure that their opinions are not used against the people who felt hurt by it. it’s about creating a space that is respectful and thoughtful so that all the voices that really matter can be heard, no matter what their stances are about the show.

and it’s about putting the needs of actual real people above our little opinions of a fictional bunch of characters. and actively learning something about the dynamics of racism instead of just wanting to be told by POC what the Correct Opinion is so we can perform being Unproblematic for brownie points without actually having to think about it or doing any work ; because wanting to reduce fans of color’s opinions to a single easy to digest thing is dehumanizing.

what you are saying about these disability discussions around Shadow and Bone, I think, actually goes in the same direction. it reminds me of discussions I have had with some D/deaf fans around s5 of Skam France ; about how the fandom’s anger and virulent criticism of things like the love triangle completely obscured the enjoyment they had of feeling represented for the first time in forever. and like they felt like the fandom was much more interested in having discourse wars and weaponizing the topic of representation than actually learning something.

so. the argument here i’m getting at is not Criticism is Good or Criticism is Bad actually. what we’re getting at is that there is a nasty tendency in fandom, of non-marginalized fans using arguments about representation as a club to beat each other over the head with how much more Enlightened and Correct they are, and in doing so talking over marginalized fans, and screwing up the possibility of having an actual nuanced conversation because everything needs to be brought back to Show Good or Show Bad. and putting people in one of these boxes so you can praise or attack them.

i’ve talked before about how a too narrow idea of what Good Representation is is actually very dangerous. reality is complex and people’s representation needs and experiences are different and there are a lot of interlocking cultural dynamics involved. not everybody is going to agree on everything. because they’re people, not Diversity Representation Props ! there needs to be a discussion !!!!! that recognizes the humanity at play !!!!!

you can’t reduce this stuff to a series of talking points. but of course, narrow rigid conceptions of representation are great for internet clout, feeling morally righteous and superior to others, and attacking people who are threatening a fictional thing you have fused your identity into. so of course people for whom this is just a story do that, and they completely bulldoze over the humanity of people whose actual lived experiences are being discussed. which is deeply shit.

(also thinking about the absolute horror that was the conversation around mental illness during s6 because as it turns out a lot of people only care about that when they can romanticize it. but let’s not get into that again.)

so. i think there is a reason why you feel uncomfortable about this topic. uncomfortable is good when the situation sucks ! it means we are getting somewhere. but also maybe ask yourself why your brain jumped to conclusions. it’s possible that you’re actually gotten into the habit of seeing this as a contest of opinion instead of an opportunity to learn. this is a thing the internet does a lot to our brains. but that’s not an excuse not to try and do better.

[spelljack]

Hi I'm taking AEP/ENGRI 1200 right now and I'm struggling. Do you have any study tips or old worksheets/psets (for a final/semifinal) since there no textbook/study problems? Especially on the quantum unit? Thanks.

Hello anon,

Super sorry that I don’t check tumblr much anymore. I’m honestly quite surprised anybody still checks in/finds this tumblr from anywhere. In any case, I’m probably really really late and unfortunately I have no idea when this message was actually sent to me. Hopefully your experience in AEP 1200 went okay despite all your struggles. 

Unfortunately its been ages since I took that class, so not only do I not have materials I’m not sure how much of what I did was relevant. In addition, without more info on what specifically you’re struggling with it’s hard to give super direct advice. However, I’ll try to share some general tips regarding how I study/studied (do I even “study” anymore since I don’t do classes? haha).

There is always a core idea. Make a practice of sifting through the noise and try to distill your course material into organizing ideas. Despite appearances, courses and exams are always organized around a few key principles they want to teach you. This is especially true in physics, where all you need to know in a course can generally be boiled down to a few equations and ideas. 

Don’t let math distract. Part of many students’ difficulty with physics is actually not the physics itself, but the mathematical details. Physics ideas are usually simple, while the math is the background support. That’s why we have the meme of handwaving physics! Try to distinguish the two. If you struggle with math, you’ll need to isolate and identify your issues and practice that. However, math in physics is generally fairly repetitive and mechanical, so knowing your math issues is half the battle.

Keep it simple. Especially for intro classes, they are generally not designed to be complicated or confusing. Most problems are solved by the application of a single equation or formula (see point 1). Understand the formulas inside and out are generally a good way to understand the entire course.

Ask questions. It is your professor’s job, as much as he/she may dislike it, to teach you. If there’s something you don’t understand, don’t be afraid to ask. Better to be a fool for a moment then to stay quiet and be a fool forever! However, I would encourage you to ask your professor how to think. This is much more important than learning how to solve your homework, and your professors have a lot of wisdom in this regard. Efficient learning is all about efficient thinking!

Anyways, hope this is helpful to you and hope its not so late that this advice is completely useless. Also, thanks to everybody who keeps reading this (pretty dead) blog despite my half-attempts to keep it afloat.