#I DON'T KNOW HOW TO ARTICULATE HOW MUCH YOUR COMMENTS MEAN TO ME AND I DON'T WANT TO MAKE ANYONE UNCOMFORTABLE BY GUSHING

[samishin]

Some of you guys left some of the kindest, most heartfelt replies on my Hankcon advent comic 😭😭😭🥹 Thank you so much💙💙 It makes me incredibly happy that so many people liked it enough to comment, especially @glass-noodle. Your comments are always so so thoughtful💙💙💙 I've read your tags a few times and they always make me happy🥹👉👈

[the-exiled-comic]

You're Starclan's strongest soldier for leaving comments on most of your work. People are so weird (and rude tbh) about how they comment on this comic. I always see stuff like people wishing your characters harm, and even wishing some characters death. Or even just commenting callously on complex characters or arcs, as if you're obligated to make every cat a "good person."

I'm not articulating my thoughts well, but it's just really disappointing to see comments that are so shallow and antagonistic, especially when there's so much character development to enjoy and discuss instead. I think there are so many unique characters in this comic, including characters who have serious flaws and do bad things. That makes them and their place in the narrative interesting! It means I can be angry, or frustrated, or saddened by their actions and outcomes, and that's so cool! That's just good storywriting! Anyway thank you for writing really unique characters that make me feel things. I look forward to how they will continue to make this story more and more interesting!

yeah i feel like i have beat the dead horse (that isn't dead until people remember the point of book reports in school) by talking about it so much, and i don't want to be the creator who's always lamenting about their audience. it just feels negative and reductive. but. commenting... it is a thing that i really wish people would try to think more about.

stuff like bad faith takes, commenting without reading, trying to subvert where the narrative is going/being contrarian, etc, etc. it just hurts not only the author of the comic but also the other authors who see those comments and get discouraged about their own work. the people who see that the readers can't understand a complicated dilemma, and decide to dumb theirs down so that it's easily understood and that they don't receive backlash for being controversial

no one wants stories like that. no one wants more bland "oh gosh im so sorry i hurt you with my feelings, generational trauma is so hard but im glad everything is all better now!" modern disney stories that can't tell anything but a basic "maybe no ones really bad... let's be friends and fix it together with forgiveness" moral.

if you want more good stories you have to know how to see one and you gotta trust the passionate people trying to make them. not saying the exiled is top tier, it's really flawed in its own way. but there are sooooo many wonderful webcomics with complex narratives and messaging that makes you think and feel. that are greeted with "the character did a bad and its not woke??" and it makes me sad, because you gotta be kidding me. be real with yourself. admit when you see flawed, dirty, emotive characters who screw up, that you feel something way more than you do the ones that do everything right the first time and never struggle.

[kalinara]

So the discussion in that prior post reminded me of this set of panels from the Krakoan era X-Men Annual:

So I find this exchange fascinating for many reasons and it makes me think a lot of thoughts. And I'm going to try to articulate them here.

Behind a cut because it's long.

My initial knee-jerk reaction was puzzlement. Because I do think that Scott has always wanted a way to control his powers. The whole risk of losing his glasses and accidently killing someone has been a thing for him all along.

In the past, the few times he's had temporary control over his abilities, such as the time they all almost became demigods in First Class, the time Emma/Cassandra Nova spiked his brain in Astonishing X-Men*, when he was in the future in a manufactured body, raising Nathan, he's been pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing.

(The Astonishing X-Men thing is interesting, and I've expressed some of my thoughts about it in the comments of this post. TLDR, I love the storyline a lot, though my own personal opinion is that Scott's inability to control his powers is physical, not psychological. But I also think the story works with that interpretation with the idea that an unscrupulous enough telepath could temporarily force a fix. It just requires us to assume Emma, or rather Cassandra Nova through Emma, is lying. That's not a stretch.)

But then, I start to think about how, in the various stories where Scott does have temporary control over his powers, it's because of something done to him. The First Class story had all of their powers going wild. Astonishing X-Men was a psychic ice-pick lobotomy, basically. The manufactured body was future/alternate Rachel's creation.

It occurs to me, with contemplation, that while Scott has been overjoyed, relieved, or grateful at the temporary reprieve from his powers - he never actually seems to seek out a fix for them himself. He never, as far as we know, asks Elixir or Triage to try to fix the brain damage. He doesn't ask Cecilia Reyes or Kavita Rao to perform brain surgery on himself. He doesn't ask for a Shi'ar clone body or anything like that.

And whenever the subject of a "Cure" shows up, Scott expresses sympathy to the people who have it worse than he does, but has never expressed interest in it himself.

Even before Krakoa, there've been a lot of possible solutions in the more fantastic or science fiction aspects of the Marvel Universe, and except maybe for one time in the sixties, Cyclops has never actually pursued any of them.

--

And then, of course, there's the complicated aspects of Krakoan resurrection in general.

I mean, basically, if you look at it one way, the vast majority of the X-Men cast are dead. What we have are basically clones that have been brainwashed into believing they're the originals.

I don't really agree with that interpretation. I do think that, via Cerebro or something else, the resurrected mutants are continuations, not off shoots. Whatever the "soul" is, they seem to have it.

That said, we do have cases like Talon vs. Wolverine (Laura version). Or Hank Prime vs. current Hank. The latter isn't even a full reproduction! His memories stop at the Avengers era.

It actually puzzles me a bit that more mutants don't express concern about this. Maybe it just comes from the idea that when you're hunted all your life, you're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But it does raise interesting questions though.

We're already looking at cloned bodies with implanted memories. How much can you change before the new person stops being the old person?

Laura ended up with an adamantium skeleton because someone got confused. Quentin Quire basically created a wardrobe of very different bodies to embody whenever he wanted. Xavier has, at least once that we know of, specifically deleted memories that he didn't want to transfer into his new incarnation. Sinister was able to corrupt the resurrection process and take control of quite a lot of the Council that way.

As I said, I do believe that the characters we have now are fundamentally the characters we've always known. I think about how Wanda, in particular, only got her memories back to a really early Cerebro recording for herself, but through magic was able to obtain the rest. She wouldn't be able to do that if she wasn't "herself" in some magically important way.

This is, to me, more like the idea of William Riker's transporter accident or John Crichton's duplication in Farscape. Both are the "real person" and a soul isn't finite.

But it's interesting, and I wish we got more of an overt examination about how these characters FEEL about this.

Part of the fun with comics though is that we do get to play with concepts like this, and we can analyze the story and the characters, and their history to come to some conclusions ourselves.

Like Scott, I think, is no stranger to resurrection in general. The grasshopper concubine of the Phoenix can't be. At various times, he's seen Xavier die and come back, Magneto die and come back, Logan die and come back, he himself has died and come back, and of course, of course, there's Jean Grey.

But at the same time, I can definitely see Scott as a man who is incredibly resistant to the idea of changing a fundamental part of himself in the process. (Though he did seem okay with regrowing that eye that Hope shot out in Rosenberg's run.)

Anyway, it's just fun to think about.

But that said, there's a Doylistic element too. And one that, as a non-disabled person, I'm probably not the best person to weigh in on.

I do think it's worth noting that, even if many of us don't think of him as such, Scott Summers is a canonically disabled person.

He can see. WITH assistive technology. Without assistive technology, his choices are blindness or obliterating anything in his direct line of sight.

I think that disability representation, even in a more fantastic context, is important. If that means that occasionally the writers have to create reasons why a character wouldn't use a fantastic or science fiction solution to cure their injury or illness, then okay. That's probably something that the creative folks will decide on in a case by case basis. And I'm not really equipped to weigh in except to say that I personally am okay with the idea of Firestar no longer suffering from cancer due to her powers, but I'd prefer any solution that Cyclops finds to the issue of his powers be strictly temporary.

[the-haven-keepers-collective]

local Piglin goes on unhinged rant /silly

aLRIGHT FUCKERS buckle up I'm gonna scream about exomemories, noemata, and Piglin culture and general Piglin fuckery. Some stuff about Enderfolk in our canon too, just a very small section.

Preamble real quick: Yes, we know some of these things in the "worldbuilding" of our noemata/exomemories are likely or even undoubtedly subconsciously inspired by Tumblr posts or media. If you notice it, we probably already know. Please don't comment on it, it kinda bothers us for reasons that are hard to articulate. Also, plz be mature about the bits that could be read as kink-coded. It's not a kink it's literally our version of marriage. Nothing against kink tho shout out to kinky alterhumans.

Oh also, post written by Techno. I am the local Piglin in question.

So for one, Nether culture is very cutthroat. "Learn fast or die" in the words of Avatar. It's home and I love it, but it's not the sort of place most people are able to get comfortable in. Comfort requires safety, safety requires resources, and resources are very few in the Nether. Survival is priority in the Nether; a lot of the culture within stems from that base fact.

Hair is super important to Piglin culture. It has nothing to do with hair itself and everything to do with the result of it- long hair is an easy handle in a fight, and sometimes a braid someone can get ahold of is the difference between life and death. It's the norm to keep your hair short; from maybe chin length to properly against-the-head levels of short. Long hair is considered to be a sign of a skilled warrior, since they're skilled enough to have an active hindrance for the sake of aesthetic. The longer the more of a threat they are. If you challenge a Piglin with waist length hair. Hairstyles have some significance too- high ponytails are the most dangerous to have with how much they stick out, so they're the "fuck you I'm a badass" of hair pretty much.

I've already mentioned this in a post before, but it's pretty common for teens to try and grow out their hair and end up with shitty, choppy haircuts from a fight. It's considered normal- kids get cocky and they're kind of assholes to each other. Everyone in the Nether knows this aspect of Piglin culture, so the danger isn't unique to fights with other Piglin, either- long hair as a Piglin makes you a well-respected individual at best, a potential target at worst. That's not as true in the overworld, where most people don't know about the hair thing. It's also not that uncommon for those with long hair to cut their hair before a battle as a sort of symbol for "going all in" so to speak. They're taking away the hindrance they've gotten used to- that means they're going to use all their force, all their skills, and typically means they're willing to die in this fight.

In source- skip this paragraph for source talk- my mother did this when helping me escape the Nether. Our village wasn't very fond of The Blood God, and for reasons that'd take up more space on an already very long (and not even near done) post, they went after me. Lemme tell y'all when a Piglin woman cuts her hair in front of a full village of people ready to kill her and grabs her axe, you motherfuckin' FEAR HER AND RUN. /silly

Alright hair aside! I'm finally done yelling about hair. Enderfolk! For one, they're called Enderfolk in our canon. They have zero concept of gender and frankly we just like the word better anyway. This is a tidbit that'd probably be better on our Enderfolk's post when/if they write it, but it's necessary context. Enderfolk, in our canon, are only creatures of the End. The End is completely closed off- which we'll get to in another post I'm sure, Kip can explain that one. Enderfolk aren't naturally found in any other dimension; They're "raptured" into the nether. Think, if you've heard of or seen the backrooms, how you just sort of clip into the backrooms. One step on seemingly solid ground and suddenly the world spins around you as you fall, and you're in another dimension. They appear, consistently, in warped forests.

The Nether doesn't naturally have warped forests either- they just started bleeding through, spreading, one day. It was one day thousands of years ago, to be fair, so most societies in my source memories had long since adjusted. We're not quite sure how much of Ender culture is even left for the Enderfolk in the Nether and overworld, since most of it is just reframed Piglin, Blazeborne, Pheonixkin, etc. culture. Most Netherborne are actually really fond and protective of Enderfolk nowadays because... I mean, really 99% of us have a memory of meeting one who was still adjusting and very clearly confused and stressed about losing their home/being plonked unceremoniously into a completely different environment. A lot of them take at least a year just to adapt to the temperatures, and the language barrier is... messy at best for a while. Gods forbid the village doesn't have a translator on hand.

Anyway; ROMANCE, HUH? Yeah we've got that too. I had forgotten until recently that Piglin do actually use the term 'mate' in our canon. I'm not sure there's a term equivalent for "dating" though? If there is I don't remember it. Which is kind of funny, because there is absolutely a major difference between being someone's spouse and being their mate. For a Piglin, at least, a mate is a much bigger commitment than a spouse. It varies from person to person obviously, but the general consensus as far as I remember was that a spouse spends their life with you. A mate makes a vow that a spouse does not in most situations; they will die for you. They will fight along your side to their last breath if they must.

Like I said earlier- a lot of Nether culture is based in the cutthroat nature of the dimension. The very act of the mating ritual- here's where my preamble about kink becomes relevant- proves that better than anything in my opinion. Piglin give each other weapons. A ring is shiny and sure gold is a huge deal, but most Piglin have already collected about five million of the things. A blade, or perhaps a bow on the rare occasion, is far more valuable in the Nether. In my Noemata, the blades are usually daggers and very ornate, but it depends on the culture of the area because it varies and just personal taste. Sometimes a useful but boring-looking weapon for their mate to fight with for life will be treasured far more than a fancy weapon that will ultimately never see any blood.

Anyway, the mating ritual is entirely about vulnerability; something that, in the Nether, gets you fucking killed. Funny, I use the word cutthroat to describe the Nether- that's literally what you do, though. Usually it's done in private because it has a borderline (or outright) spiritual tone to it, and the whole thing vulnerability that you don't want to be seen by anyone other than your mate or mates. The blade gifted to propose is used- and if their mate responded with a gift of their own that's used as well. The response gift is up to personal preference; some feel like it's too transactional, others feel it's about equal respect, others just want an excuse to give their mate a pretty knife. Throats are bared, and very gently ever so carefully blood is drawn. Dangerous? Yes. I'm genuinely not quite sure that the specific points in my mind could have blood safely drawn on a human. That's the point; the trust in each other to not be cruel or even just accidentally fuck it up is immense. This is not only trusting someone to stand by their vow to take their last breath for you if they have to, but trusting them to not take your last breath.

Some tidbits I couldn't fit in easily anywhere:

Proposal blades are purely meant to be for the tastes of one's mate, not for the one proposing. It's considered pretty rude to propose with a blade that's tailored more to your taste than theirs. Unlike wedding rings, no compromises have to be made- that knife is purely for ONE person. Hence why some Piglin prefer to give a blade in response.

TW FOR (IN-SOURCE) GENOCIDE AND DEATH, RELIGIOUS THEMES IG. Y'know the way we're REAL trigger-happy, attacking on sight if you don't have gold? Yeah there's a reason for that. Piglin are hunted. It's a clockwork sort of thing; done annually. Skywarden, in the words of the person who created them (we have permission to talk about them) are "Toxic Minecraft Christians." I'll get into their lore some other time maybe, if we do a chonky post on the mythology and history of our canon. Skywarden are, essentially, angels. For a species of empaths, they aren't very empathic. They have a white and gold theme- guess where they get all that gold. -_- Piglin are violent but we have good reason to be. Anyone that isn't clearly Netherborne (or Enderfolk) is shot on sight lol

OH MY GOD DID I MENTION PIGLIN ARE SORT OF COLD-BLOODED IN OUR CANON???? I DON'T THINK I DID. YEAH WE'RE COLD-BLOODED. Living near lava lakes will do that to you.

We have boats btw. Like fucking boats made of Nether brick type shit. I'm still not sure how the fuck that works I just know we had boats.

Most of the bit about mates is using monogamy as an example but monogamy isn't considered "the norm" and polyamory "a deviation" in Piglin culture. It's just sort of there. No one gives a shit.

ANYWAY HAVE ALL THAT get hit with a wall of text nerds. /silly

Feel free to ask questions if anyone has them! I don't expect any, but I also don't want anyone to feel like asking questions is bad. We actively want to delve into our sources and what we know or remember about our personal canons more. "Doubles" and such are welcome as well we don't care lol.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | May 6th-12th 2024

Have a good week everyone!

If you know anyone who isn't tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Complete

you don't wanna know me now by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S7E7 | 1,3K | Teen): “Just one date,” Kim says casually, though she’s definitely picked up on whatever weird, uncomfortable tension has just entered the room with them, “this past Friday.” “Friday?” Buck repeats in an octave much higher than his normal one. Because Friday... Friday was when he watched Christopher while Eddie went out on date with — not Marisol, apparently.

taurus moon, libra rising by coldbam/ @coldbam (Established Buddie | 1,4K | General): “And I’m getting a lot of Virgo energy from Firefighter Diaz.” “Oh my God, he is a Virgo.” Buck excitedly smacks Eddie on the arm. “Do me next!” ~ Buck falls into astrology. Eddie is Eddie.

Mistakes by theotherlucifer/ @theotherbuckley (S7E7 Coda | 1,6K | Teen): Or Eddie Diaz makes bad decisions, but he can't help it, it's his wife.

Fluttering Wings of Freedom by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, Coming Out | 2K | General): Hen didn’t really know what she expected to find. Her mind had raced through a million different scenarios, catastrophizing the way only a paramedic could when faced with getting a phone call from her wife telling her to forget the groceries and hurry home. She’d expected broken glass or maybe blood and tears. What she didn’t expect was to find Karen sitting patiently in the arm chair with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, a bottle of Jack on the coffee table, and Buck practically vibrating on her couch. 

wait for the feeling of you by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP, Established Buddie | 2K | Explicit): “Fuck. Get up here. Let me take care of you.” Eddie feels Buck shake his head, still nuzzled against his thigh. He gives one last kiss to Eddie’s skin, then starts extracting himself from between Eddie’s legs, wiping his mouth along the way. “No, I’m good. We’re running late as it is.” And…that is reasonable and rational. They did get a bit carried away, and they are expected to make an appearance at Bobby’s for a barbeque. Except…

meditating on your lips by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck comes out, and Eddie has some interesting dreams.

blackout by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Buck wakes up hungover on Eddie's couch, with no memory of the night before. Eddie's at just as much of a loss as he is, but their friends seem to know something they don't.

let it once be me (who do i have to speak to) by lenaboskow (Post-S7E4, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “Why not me?” Eddie didn’t mean to say it. The question had been banging around in his head for the past week, but now it was out in the open, echoing off the walls of the loft for Buck to hear instead of safe in his mind. “Why– what do you mean?”

things you shouldn’t say to me by coldbam/ @coldbam (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Mature): Eddie comes out, sleeps around, and Buck hears all about it.

little by little by MediaWhore/ @mediawhorefics (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 4K | General): Or Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

he's never gonna love you like I want to by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (S7, Demisexual Eddie | 5K | Teen): Eddie and Marisol talk about their relationship and the next step, and Eddie tries to articulate how he feels and why things aren't moving as fast as Marisol wants. A couple of days later Buck goes to Eddie's and they have a long talk about their feelings and their relationships, and probably let things go unsaid that aren't yet ready to come out.

Exhale by themandylion (Presumed Dead | 5K | Not Rated): Buck’s Jeep gets stolen, which is a pretty shitty way to start the day. The 118 answer a collision and find said Jeep on fire, a deceased driver inside, which is arguably an even worse way to start the day.

Give Us The Grown by fruitsdoesnotknow (Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Buck starts leaving notes for Eddie. Eddie writes notes for Buck right back. They were always going to end up writing their own love story.

the tiniest moves you make by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan (Maddie POV | 8K | Teen): Five times Buck talks to Maddie about Eddie intercut with five times Eddie talks to Maddie about Buck and one time they manage to figure it out on their own.

why do i always feel like i'm in the twilight zone by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Supernatural AU | 6K | General): The 118 is a prolific, all supernatural station. They face the hardest of calls for this reason, but they're curious about what species Buck is from the start. When they find out, it's a complex navigation to keep him where he belongs.

drink up (you're wasted on me) by okanus (S7E6, Bachelor Party, Infidelity, PWP | 9K | Explicit): Or: Eddie and Buck hook up at the bachelor party. Difficulties ensue.

gone fishing by coldbam/ @coldbam (Accidental Catfishing, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): “Someone is catfishing as you.” His eyes are wide and his face is serious. Stressed. Eddie has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” Buck slows down and carefully says each word. “Someone's using stolen photos of you on a dating app. Pretending to be you.” He looks miserable, like it pains him to deliver this news. Eddie’s face must still show confusion, because Buck lets out a frustrated huff and then shoves his phone right in front of his face. “Look.” And. Shit. Buck’s phone shines brightly in the evening light of the loft, and there, nearly blinding him, is his own Tinder profile.

🔥 It's a church of burnt romances (and I'm too far gone to pray) by justhockey (Coming Out, Post-S7E5 | 15K | Mature): Eddie looks back, sifting through the ashes of every relationship he’s ever had that has burned to the ground. And his hands shake, and his heart beats too fast, and it’s there, right on the tip of his tongue. It’s close enough that he could reach out and touch it if he were brave enough. The reason, that no matter how hard he tried - no matter how much he wanted to, or how often he literally prayed for it - his relationships with women have never worked out. And he knows. Knows that no amount of women, or trying, or praying will ever be able to change it. You can’t fix what isn’t broken, and Eddie isn’t broken. He isn’t. He’s just…well. He’s in love with Buck, isn’t he?

🔥 The Pain Will Leave You Once It's Done Teaching You by fruitsdoesnotknow (Canon Divergent, Daniel Lives-kinda | 40K | Mature): When Daniel Buckley lives a little longer, Evan Buckley dies a little more. And this is how Eddie Diaz saves him, a little later on.

🔥what if i can't have us by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S7E5, Getting Together, Sexuality Crisis | 47K Explicit): In which Eddie is dating Marisol; Buck's dating Tommy, and Eddie has feelings about that, which he simply does. not. understand.

WIP

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 127/? | 397K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Timeline, Curse/Magic | 9/11 | 22K | Mature): Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 4/10 | 31K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 4/6 | 10K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 1/? | 5K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

Podfic

🔥 [Podfic] When the Lost are Found by MistMarauder/ @mistmarauder for ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Soulmates AU | 20-30 min | General): When everyone seems to have a better soulmate identifying system, Buck can't help but consider his own to be lackluster. How's he meant to find his soulmate with loose change and mismatched socks after all?

🔥 [podfic] Trade-In by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for themandylion (Post-S4, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): It starts with Buck trading in his beloved Jeep. It ends with a confession, a kiss, and Buck trading in his apartment too. Or: If you didn't think Buck research binges wouldn't eventually take him to safety specs for his car, you don't know Buck.

🔥 [podfic] my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Teen): or, a fever, a party, a late night tv show: three times eddie’s heart falls out his ass because buck keeps looking at him like that. he’s just got to find a way to tell him that doesn’t involve a convoluted cephalopod analogy about love

🔥 [Podfic] Tell Me About Despair by radpaisley // fic by @hattalove (Post-S4, Sexuality Crisis | 1/5 | 2-2.5h | Mature): eddie's not entirely sure he believes in getting help, at least not for himself. there's only so much healing to be had for a body torn apart by bullets, for a mind that's only half there, for a man who's been leaving pieces of himself behind all his life with nothing to take their place. except, as it turns out, falling apart happens in increments, and healing does, too: it happens when you gnaw a hole in your lip trying to keep quiet only to have the words escape; when you realize that the ghost you've been seeing out of the corner of your eye is yourself; when your best friend smiles, and you allow it to take your breath away. it happens through the smallest of things: bird feeders, and cacti, and pasta shapes. meanwhile, the world goes on.

[calebslittlecrow]

You Are Giving Words Way Too Much Power

I already ranted about the topic before in some half-cooked and half-assed post in the middle of the night about a month ago, but three sentences and (probably) some random emoji don't feel like enough. Every now and then, while I'm mindlessly scrolling through manifestation spaces and getting shifting content thrown at me from Reddit, I stumble across something I would call the Word Brigade. The type of people who act like the words "if", "try" or "I will" are something akin to loaded guns held point blank against their third eye. Like, calm down, maybe? Chill. Dunno how, but apparently if you are not saying full conviction "I am already there" and instead use "When I am there", your entire shifting journey will implode. Or manifestations. Okay. Sure. Suuuuure (￢ ￢) Before someone now swings their fingers to call me dumbfucking stupid in the comments: yes, I get that a lot of those "don't use the weak words!!!" posts come from a well meaning place. They're trying to help and want to push people into the "living in the end" mindset. Cute, supportive even. Great ^-^ But it isn't about those people, it's about those who take this really fucking serious, serious enough to actually snap at people for using these words. Or telling new shifters that they can't use these words and then wonder why said newbies suddenly burst into tears when they catch themselves saying "a bad word". Yes, I've seen people genuinely feel guilty over saying "I'll try to shift tonight" as if they just spit on their subliminals and wiped their ass with their script. Is this really what we should be feeling over a fucking word? Put in perspective: you are out here calling yourself a god, an infinite being of divine energy, a conscious fucking architect of reality itself or whatever the fuck really... and at the same fucking time you're trying to sell me that soft-ass words like "try" are enough to blow up the entire shifting journey you are on? Be serious, that logic isn't really giving logic. This is actually giving me flashbacks to the golden era of shifttok when people were like "Don't say don't in your script or you'll manifest the opposite!!!". Like, huh??? You mean if I write "I don't have acne and I won't get acne" and I shift, my DR self will have the worst acne known to mankind because I said "don't" and "won't"? Huh? "Omg, don't script to have clear skin or you will be invisible/your skin will be see-through" came after or alongside that, like, make it make sense? Your subconscious isn't stupid nor allergic to negative words. It can handle you saying "try" or "don't". I kinda thought we collectively evolved past being afraid of certain words, but apparently we just gave it a rebrand. Perfect. Yes, affirmations are cool, words matter. I know. But what I barely see mentioned is the stupid fucking fact that what makes those words so powerful is the intention and belief behind them. That is what is making affirmations work. Words are there to articulate what you intention is or what belief you want to have. If you are cooking and your food tasted like burnt ass, it's probably because you burnt it, not because you used paprika instead of garlic. If words alone, on their very own, are that powerful, most people in the community would have already shifted instead of being here and still saying "I am already there" for the fifth month in a row now. They haven't. Why? Because they found another thing to overcomplicate shifting with, because apparently nothing can be easy σ(￣、￣〃)

[disregardcanon]

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

[peanutheaddd]

Hey, um. I already posted some thoughts of mine via tags on your most recent DM/Detey comic post. And um, I just wanna say that it genuinely, literally made me tear up. I know that's stupid because it's fucking DOGMAN. And please, don't feel bad, because I don't mean for this to come off as a negative thing. But wow... You've outdone yourself

Idk if this'll mean much at all (it does to me context wise), but media (art/video games/TV shows or movies/etc.) hardly, if ever, makes me tear up. That isn't to say I don't feel sadness or anything when it comes to sad moments, but it takes a lot for me to tear up. It's only happened once or twice, I think? I believe one of those times was due to a video game. But art? Never teared up to it before. Never... Until now

Um wow. This is all cringe so uh. TL;DR thank you so much for existing. Thank you for creating and posting. Admittedly I'm kinda. Going through it ahaha. But regardless, art like this has never moved me (emotionally speaking) so damn much before. So um, congrats. I hope life is nothing but good to you and your loved ones

Oh anon this means So much to me . This means So So So much to me . Thank you.

i totally understand w the not tearing up easily thing . i have yet to Ever tear up over artwork . sometimes i Want to tear up but i cant LOL . That means So much to me.

iReally put a Lot of my own thoughts into that comic about just. Love and Memory and Life and Death. Love especially. and how i personally think about it and how theyre all tied together. how i personally cope with how Scary death is bc im Terrified of dying .

someone left a comment on my comic that contained the phrase “no me molesta, así es la vida” (im not bothered, thats life) and Really thats ultimately what i was thinking as i made the comic . Death is just Natural. Thats life. And it doesnt Have to be something scary. it doesnt necessarily mean a neverending soulcrushing grief. Theres more to it than the death itself.

Yes he died Yes hes gone Yes petey misses him but just by the sheer force of his Love he still exists in a way just through every one of peteys actions and memories and thoughts . and yes death is so so So terrifying even if i remind myself its natural and indiscriminatory befause that doesnt change the fact that i dont know Anything about what comes after death and i never ever will .

but still isnt it beautiful how if u just love strong enough love with ur whole being then you can somehow continue existing despite not being there ? how ur very soul becomes a part of the rest of the world, just like in the extra kiss, or the generous tip, or the warmth of the sun itself ? in the extra chair next to the tree, or in the records, or in the folded corners of a poetry book . you can be just One person but if love hard enough and purposefully enough and loudly enough the worlds never ever gonna forget it . and maybe thats all that matters ultimately . “And love lasts forever and ever” from mothering heights yk ? “but its gonna change their world” from fetch 22 yk ?

in general this kinda thing is just a concept i think about a Lot and it means a lot that i was able to articulate it well enough to get that kind of reaction from someone .

thank u for sending this anon . peace and love.

[allmannerofmalady]

In continuation of my clownery, I started a new DATV playthrough because my beloved Inquisitor looked so jarring I had to remake her and replay like 20 hours of the game. But hey, I made peace with the fact that I am playing DATV to wrap up Inquisition and get an ending scene at this point, I'm not currently foreseeing a second playthrough, so I gotta do it right, y'know?

Spoilers, and me complaining at extreme length, yet again, about my own personal expectations vs reality into the void. Please ignore if DATV negativity is something you prefer to stay away from, protect your peace & what you enjoy.

So I replay HOURS. I'm having fun killing everything as fast as I can - I don't know what it is about playing as a rogue in this game that has tickled my ADHD brain so much, but I'm surprisingly really good at the arrow bonanza and relentless enemy aggro?! This turn based bitch? I digress.

I see my bb Inquisitor Lavellan - she still doesn't look like herself, but I can live with it. She got some ill-advised fillers in Tevinter, she's been through a lot, let her LIVE.

This time around my strategy is pure lore hunting. I'm getting every codex, I'm SQUEEZING this playthrough for whatever lore/easter eggs I can get because idk if I'm going to play again. I got all of Solas' murals early on, got Mythal's essence before Weisshaupt even, I think. BUT WAIT! I have one more treat! The locked room in the Lighthouse! Solas' study! There must be something juicy for all the effort, right? RIGHT? :'D

I know it's been beaten to death, but PERSONALLY, the game still feels incredibly flat to me, jarringly so. If I'm in the Dreadwolf's home, I want to snoop. I want Rook to look through his library, his books, his garbage bin. I even remember the devs saying they wanted being in the Lighthouse to feel an old friends house, or something? I could be wrong, my brain is fried. It's not just a Solas thing - I'm playing this game because I'm desperate for info about the characters I love, but as Rook, we are IN Solas' HQ and I want to rip open the floorboards. I'm trying to RP as much as I can RP in this G.

Anyway, I was so thirsty for something more, something deeper than just these lovely environments I cant do much with, and notes on how Solas hoards raisins - so I collected the wisps and did all the things to unlock the second door in the Lighthouse, forever booboo the fool, thinking I would get some juicy content or something. Trying to stay positive.

No. NO. I got some gear, another empty room Rook has no comments on, and fine, some of Solas' observations on the anchor. It does seem to confirm he kept the Inquisitor’s arm aaaand I love him your honour.

Back to backflipping and shooting arrows in the air, and wanting to grab Emmrich by the beautiful lapels to shake him and ask about the Pentaghast family. Where's my WIFE --

On to the Weisshaupt mission, which was actually ridiculously fun to play - until I was told Weisshaupt is gone haha wow great love that at least the Inquisitor & gang are keeping Southern Thedas safe *subtle foreshadowing* 😃🤞 weeee

I was SO MAD at myself for expecting more like the clown that I am, it was something dumb but just annoyed me all over again and got me all… opinionated 🫠

So, I'm mad again. I cannot begin to articulate my feelings about the incredible amount of storylines and lore we've lost with the decisions made in DATV's writing - they've already been written so eloquently by much greater minds than myself. SO I'm just laughing my way through the pain 🤡

People pleaser that I am, I see other creators I've followed and loved for ages defend the game's choices, tell others they lack media literacy, that your criticisms mean you have rose tinted glasses about the previous games - whatever, your opinion can be valid without tearing others down. So, I genuinely thought something was wrong with me for being so hung up on details. But I can't even engage in fan theories anymore because I'm so jaded at this point. When I see new deep dives into lore-based theories on the game, 99% of the time my mind goes "There is no deeper meaning. They just wanted to wrap it up." Why do you think this thing happened? What do you think that thing is hinting? Nothing. And this is coming from someone who played all the games, owns all the novels, art books, World of Thedas I and II, the bloody Inquisitor lamp from the BioWare store LOL, I was primed and ready to engage in these conversations, but I can't. I have nothing to say that won't end in a cynical answer, and maybe that's because I'm also jaded by working in the game-adjacent VFX industry.

The factions are, yet again, fun but shallow, the logic confusing, and lack much of a backstory for Rook (I think Grey Wardens and Mourn Watchers seem to be the best developed from other reviews and playthroughs, I've only played extensively as a Shadow Dragon, to be fair). Why are you a mage in this one faction? Why are you a rogue in another when it doesn't make sense without a story to support it? It's all this beautiful candy floss that melts away the minute I stop and think about it. And then the cynic in me thinks - these are probably vestiges of the live service part of the game that EA was pushing for. I have to slap myself and stop looking for deeper meaning within corporate decisionsssss there is no swimming pool behind that closed door you needed 7 wisps for 😃

I desperately did not want this to be the case. I was hyped. I preordered the game and organized vacation around it, I'm too old and dealing with way too many crappy personal things to just be a hater for the sake of being a hater. Gaming and Dragon Age are my comfort spaces. But for the LIFE of me, I can't imagine playing DATV again once I finish, let alone more times than I can count like the previous games. Or imagine listening to 4 hours of Youtube videos of party banter to analyze, or even imagine how companions would react to certain things because they feel so stiff. Everything is beautiful, but sterile.

I do love Emmrich - I'm enjoying his storyline and romance, it's like the loveliest most whimsical Vincent Price Pixar romance, but still, something is always missing with the characters even as some do grow on me. I can't imagine anything close to just the party banter ALONE between Solas and Iron Bull. Cole. Fenris and Anders. And to be clear - the whole DA was GRITTY and DARK, DAO supremacy - NOT ME. I love all the games but they have always been whimsical and silly, cringey at times, and did not take themselves seriously. I remember doing the quest where Hawke is running around trying to keep Aveline's date with Donnic from going south, cracking up at how ridiculous it was, and just thinking - gods I LOVE this game.

Speaking of romance, while I'm enjoying how sweet the romance with Emmrich is, when I see others complaining about lack of spice... ahem. I still cannot get over the art style when it comes to characters. This is subjective, and a me problem - I still find it jarring. I don't like the proportions, the bloom, how smooth everyone looks. They still mostly look like cartoons to me, with no body hair and the big heads, and I find everyone's hands so distracting because they look like plasticine. I'm ok with no spice between these characters with their current designs lol let me leave it at that. Ok, except for Felassan and Solas, chef's kiss, no notes.

Solas and story elements directly around him still mostly hold the familiar weight, for the most part. I think credit goes to his amazing VA and the strength of what was likely written for his arc from the very start, before the rewrites and dev hell the game went through. I still have opinions, obviously, but even as a ride or die Solavellan I don't like having the Solavellan angle hijack conversations, so I'm not going to go there. If I'm going to criticize stuff I'll do it as a gamer/DA fan first, egg lover and apologist second.

As I reach the end of Act 2, the game continues to makes me feel like I'm stripped of all agency after a lifetime of playing choice-based games. I talk to companions when it allows me to, then they are relegated to set dressing. My conversation choices all feel the same, or don't match what I'm choosing sometimes. The Lighthouse does not feel like the vibrant hub it was sold as. I am on quests I mostly cannot accept or reject. I cannot interact with my surroundings unless it is gameified (light a candle, move a crystal). The companions abilities are all just - platforming? I know I sound hyperbolic, but it's all I can see currently.

I played Persona 5 from end to end, twice. I played FFXVI. I loved both, had no issues with their linear storytelling, and how the game led you to their end points. Those games are not DA, they did not have the expectations you would have from a BioWare title 10 years in the making. You were not lured in by tales of an incredible character creator, teased about what might be coming from previous games, told this was a sequel to an immersive fantasy RPG series in a beloved fantasy world where the defining studio mechanic was CHOICES MATTER, even when they changed a lot of other things from title to title. In P5/FFXVI you were Clive, you were Joker, you were playing out their story. They were not direct sequels to anything. I'm loathe to be seen as a mindless critic who just wants to shit on things, but a part of me does feel emotionally manipulated for $$$. I still resent how much hype was built for the game by maligning the previous ones (we're fixing Inquisition's mistakes!!).

I'm back to my mission of finishing the game I paid for, enjoy what I can, and get my Solavellan ending scene cause I'm down BAD for literally the only ship I have ever shipped🧍🏻‍♀️I appreciate that it was included. But also - wow does it exacerbate what wasn't included for everyone else's choices.

Something I hate is how everyone immediately jumped on the Baldur's Gate 3 comparisons - BG3 was a life changing game for me, but it's not perfect, and the comparisons are not fair. The one thing I will say is that when I first played BG3, despite its issues and the later criticisms of how Larian reacted to pressure from fans, I remember my earliest impression was - it feels good to be respected as a player. I didn't feel the game was talking down to me, and I got SO much for what I paid for (700 hours baybeee). Jaheira and Minsc were included as companions in homage to the previous games. Yes, they did Viconia dirty, nothing is perfect - but for example, Jaheira would tell you about her husband Khalid from the original games, which came out in 1998 and 2000. There was a lot of world building/easter eggs that not everyone was familiar with or even noticed, because not every player played BG1 and 2, or were familiar with DND 5e - but it was included. Drizzt Do’urden was mentioned ffs, they didn’t overthink about who read those books or not. I’m aware of my biases and I may very well be looking through rose tinted glasses, but I did not feel like the information was presented like I was dumb, or "ah they'll never understand this - SCRAP IT". It just feels like it’s there to honour the past and out of love for the world Larian were playing in.

—> edit to say that I do notice and enjoy the codex entries, callbacks to Tevinter Nights, Masked Empire, the older games. I wish that care and detail was woven into the main story and overall end product and not just background fluff. I know others are satisfied with those additions, wish that were me. I saw a tweet saying that every callback to a previous game or storyline actually pissed them off even more lol, I relate.

I don't feel that respect for the player in DATV, I'm sorry. There is love there, but as hard as I try, it feels like it's there despite of the overall design of the game, not part of it. I keep remembering interviews before the game was released and things that were promised, and I don't see it. At all. No more meaningless fetch quests!! Most companion-focused game! The quests are largely boring or formulaic, but addictive and fun because they are so packed with mindless combat that my brain enjoys. Sometimes it feels like filler - we didn't know what to add here, FIGHT! You unlocked a poignantly named gate in the Crossroads? NO STORY MORE FIGHT! And I'm eating it up, let me not be a hypocrite, I have 80 hours in the game. But personally, it feels designed to pad out this beautiful, sometimes fun, but bitterly shallow game. I can't even go into companion specifics because I have nothing to say, no story I want to analyze. Some have grown on me, but there is no bite or nuance to the writing that compels me and I have no urge to know more. In the previous DA games I would take the long route wherever I went just to get more banter from my companions, and I was instantly interested in them, even if I disliked them. I've seen the comments, I tried, I don't think it's because "I haven't spent enough time" with the DATV companions.

The level design of long narrow corridors, which do remind me of DA2 and FFXVI, has become so predictable to me that I almost always know exactly where I'm going to find loot. So it becomes this admittedly satisfying run of grabbing and fighting to the end point, getting the dopamine hits of collecting pointless stuff, but not really taking in the environments and enjoying the adventure. The level design is not immersive. These do not feel like real cities or real people, and that was intentional. It feels like “levels”, not a World. No one reacts to a single thing you do. Even in the ultra minimalist style of Zelda BOTW, townspeople would react to things you did. Sometimes I walk up to yet another obvious fight arena where the enemies are just chilling, waiting for me while standing still - almost like they're on shift at a haunted house LOL. I can imagine the Venatori stubbing out a cigarette, "C'mon guys, she's here, showtime". The funny part is this has all been seen before in older games, and it never bothered me. My own expectations and overhype might be to blame, but it feels like a big step back when so many games are stepping forward. Me = clown

I keep going back to my first reaction when the disappointment hit me. It feels like being given Persona 5 Strikers or Hyrule Warriors, and told that it's the sequel to the actual RPG. It's fun, it wears the skin of the thing you like that makes you happy, but stops there.

Other things I shake my fist at

Cheap ass The 6th Sense ass Varric death. Yes, yes, Solas villain arc whatever - it was cheap. Way to honour a multi-game beloved character and the player, even if the time had come for him to die in the story.

No, I cannot find a single redeeming reaction from a companion that makes Varric dying make sense in hindsight, except that they are all made of cardboard. I saw comments saying on a second playthrough it's clear Harding is in mourning - sorry, I don't see it.

So. Dorian, the Inquisitor, Charter, Harding, your party, Maevaris, Isabella, list goes on - not a single one of them asks about Varric or mentions his death? Expresses condolences? Nothing? Cheap. Even if Solas was playing with your mind, doesn't it make the overall characters in the game seem even more wooden and unrealistic to the player? It was not the gotcha they seem to think it is.

When the novelty of the cameos and the emotion associated wore off, they were just flat and felt random. Cassandra should have been there, doing Seeker shit (my WIFE). Ok no cameo? Casual dialogue with Emmrich about having a Nevarran in the Inquisition (or as the Divine?!) Lucanis info dumping about Josephine as an Antivan, Zevran as a Crow, nvm, time for a coffee joke. Merrill, eluvian queen, how is she a nonentity? Habibi Fenris should have been in the Shadow Dragons, spitting on the ground after being approached by Solas to join his uprising (lol what uprising amirite). Ok I'm cooking hire me Bioware 🍳 but at least they can remain untainted by the Isabella Treatment (tm)

This leads into the yeeting of the Keep, world states, choices, and hypocrisy around claiming to want to level the playing field for new players. No, all I can see is - it was treated as a buffet that they picked from as it suited. This is the one disappointment I will never let go of. Facsimile's of beloved character cameos were tossed in, you could not really talk to them outside of what limited dialogue you were allowed. Certain world states are now canon apparently - Dorian being recruited in the Inquisition, Morrigan drinking from the Well etc. You want a reboot and you've committed to tossing the choices and burning down Thedas (literally)? Go down with GLORY! Have all the previous main characters/companions alive. Have them all mentioned, even in passing. A portrait on a wall. Say goodbye to them, get your reboot. Honour what you built your business on. But yeah, Emmrich and Harding get to have their picnic in Fereldan fml bye

The argument of: well, the games are old now, it shouldn't matter. Ah - not too old to capitalize on the IP and DA name? Not too old to use some cameos to lure old players? The argument of - it was too many choices to track. Ok cut them down, but don't go scorched earth? 3 choices, mostly irrelevant to those who don't care about Solas (could never be me), and then literally telling you everything else in the South and Weisshaupt is now razed to the ground. But also the illuminati did everything.

FINALLY - the Inquisition should have been in charge of the hunt for Solas, hill I will die on. Fine, have Rook, but Inquisitor should have been the other protagonist. The people... who knew Solas best and betrayed by him... who were in an organization to save the world... Why did we have that cunty dagger stabbed into the map of Tevinter cliffhanger to have the Inquisitor reduced to a pyjama wearing husk BIOWAAAAAAAARE

It's this stuff that builds up, and makes me think - does this game hate its fanbase and source material that much? I very obviously need to go touch some grass 🤠

I keep engaging with Reddit, Tumblr, Twitter - all to my detriment because it makes me feel like there's something wrong with me for not loving it, all over again. I also desperately have a fic in me I would love to write, an ode to the story in my head from years of loving the world of Thedas, a love letter to my Lavellan and others - but idk what to do with the post-DATV world atp. I just want to get through Act 2/3, get my Solavellan smooch, ignore the ~secret Illuminati ending, and be grateful I'm not a Mass Effect fan so I don't have to go through this again 🐣

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 5 Franklin. (Finale!)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Quirky Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Slow Burn. Fluffy. Drama. Use of the n-word, Soft SMUT.

Summary: You have a very wild imagination. But what happens when imagination bleeds into reality? Will you rise above it, or crumble and fall? Please check out parts 1,2,3,4 on the Mrs. Saint Writes (Masterlist). 

Word count: 10,454k  / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated!

“W-What, what did you say?” Maybe you heard wrong, maybe what just happened was all part of an elusive bad dream. Maybe, you still had the opportunity to wake up! 

The living room contained colorful throw pillows and the plush velvet couch your mother gave you. When Franklin stood, he rounded the brown coffee table to approach you. For whatever reason your feet kept making distance. Backward and backward until the hard wall made it no longer possible to travel any further. Too late, you stood there as he met you. 

Did you ever notice how much taller he was than you? Probably at some point. In the moment though, you couldn't be certain of anything, but the height difference was greatly intimidating. 

You clutched onto your notebook, hoping that Whoopi would perform some miracle and save you up outta this mess. But she remained plastered on the outer workings of the thin cover board intact and still, just as she always had. Her beaming smile no longer provided comfort. She'd spilled all the secrets she'd sworn to protect, and for that, you could never forgive. 

In your plotting against Whoopi, Franklin lowered his head, closing space and bringing you both closer to each other. He could whisper in your ear if he wanted to. That’s how close he came. Instead he lowered his gaze, then you watched his eyes shut. All you could think about was Mexico.

“I didn't want it to be you. Didn’t wanna believe it,” he said. “But since it is...” 

You were looking at a different pair of eyes when Franklin opened his. You watched him direct his attention over to where he'd sat the backpack. Curious, you looked on in the same direction. When he faced you, You couldn't meet his stare. The intensity burned on him like fire, and his tone of voice had shifted. You were at a loss for words. This Franklin that had towered over you, scared you. 

“Excu- wha- I don't.” 

For some reason you just couldn't make them bitches articulate right. There was a grin that came and went so quick on him, you couldn't be sure that you’d seen it at all. 

“He put you up to this? Teddy…” 

You narrowed your stare. Not at him at first but the backpack, trying to comb through your mind. All was quiet as you scrambled to figure out just what the hell he was talking about. No one in class had that name. 

“I'm sorry. You lost me. Who the hell is Teddy?” you said in one breath. 

Hold up a minute. Let's Rewind ⏪

The sun slowly sank behind the Los Angeles skyline. Leon took a sip of his drink, a very expensive cognac and flipped to the next page. The music from the club bounced against the walls, but didn’t cause enough of a distraction that what he’d just read was lost on him. He allowed his deep brown hues to trace over words written in blue ink, finishing off the last sentence on the page. When he closed the front, greeted with a smiling Whoopi Goldberg, he offered a strange scowl. Shaking his head he'd laughed and directed his attention up at Franklin. 

“Damn nigga. Wasn’t expecting to know you in such an intimate way. Not that I ever wanted to.” 

Leon tossed the notebook. It landed on the coffee table to lay among some empty shot glasses Louie kept for guests and an ashtray requested by Leon, that he used to set his dying doobie. 

“If you ain’t already fucked her. Based on that, she sure thinks you have.” 

Franklin paced the floor before he found a seat across from Leon. He put up a hand after he lowered his head. 

“All that shit aside Lee. What about the rest of it? I mean it’s almost coded like she knows. About everything. Curtis sounds like Rob, and Donovon sounds like Avi. Fuckin Marco sounds like Oso. The gotdamn FBI is the CIA. Fuck!”

Leon remained composed despite the sudden outburst of frustration. 

“Yeah. I peeped that too. You think she one of um? Like maybe she workin’ for him.” 

Franklin sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Shit man. Your guess is as good as mine. I dunno. Could be. Outta nowhere he shows back up.” 

Like he couldn't sit still in one place for too long, Franklin got up and walked over to the window. Pretty soon the sun disappeared completely, letting the city lights take over, which created a dazzling display of colors and lights. 

“He never did like me branchin’ into real estate. Felt like it would draw too much attention. Like Alton. He shook his head and shoved his hands deep within his pockets. “Naw. Wouldn't put it past Teddy to do no shit like that. Her being in that class would make sense then. Keep an eye without havin’ to get his hands dirty.”

Leon sat up, grabbed the doobie, and turned it in the ashtray to kill the lingering ember. “Well that's not really far-fetched. I never understood why yo’ ass was there in the first place ta’ be honest.” 

Franklin turned to face him. “For the knowledge Lee. Wanted to make sure I was goin’ bout shit the right way. I don't give a fuck about the piece of paper they give you at the end. But ta know how.” 

Leon smirked at the seriousness in the words. “Well okay then college boy. But a couple trips to the library woulda’ probably done the job.” 

Franklin lifted his chin and shut his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s just way too detailed ta’ make me comfortable just leavin’ it alone.” He picked up the notebook. “Besides that, I brought her to my house. She could have it bugged. Cervalence on the operation. Now she won't answer.” He faced the phone. “Ignoring my pages. She must know I have it.”

“Whelp. If that's the case you got less than twenty four hours. Can't take that much to get on a plane and bounce up outta this motherfucka. If that ain't the case already. Know what I'm sayin'.”

Franklin looked down through the window onto the dance floor filled with bodies. Eugene Wilde’s ‘Gotta get you home tonight’, filling their bones with smooth soulful rhythm. “Yeah. I know what you sayin'. I need to make a move,” He offered. I know where she stay at.” 

“Either way, looks like you’ll be livin’ up to the name, one way or another, nigga.” 

Franklin nodded. “Yeah. Listen. Let’s keep this between us, huh. I don’t think it’s that serious where we need to involve Jerome and Louie.”

“I hear you.” Leon held onto a grin and gave a head nod to Franklin’s pistol that rested on the counter of the table before he leaveld himself into a comfortable position in the arm chair. “So. What it gon’ be Saint? How you finna play this?” 

Franklin held his gaze over the gun then raised his chin before his eyes crossed with Leon’s. 

…

8:25PM. Franklin made his way through the bustling Los Angeles. 

The city lights illuminated his path over the dark street as he drove with the sounds of cars and music blaring in the background. Crisp night air flowed through open windows, carrying the beat of the entire city with it. Franklin turned up the radio and added his voice along to the last few lines of his favorite tune as the ending came. 

Replaced by the radio announcer, he leveled his focus when the next song filled within the speakers. 

‘Celebrate good times, come on.’ 

He sat back and and with a sigh veered off as he took the next right down a half lit street. 

He parked after driving one more block just as the last bit of lyrics filled his ears, ‘It's a celebration…’ had taken him right in front of the apartment building. 

The last time he heard the song, it was raining. 

Shutting of the engine, Franklin waited, then reached over to open the glove compartment. He pulled out the notebook, lifted his shirt and slipped it underneath. He reached to grab the pistol sitting in plain view, and the yellow backpack on the passenger seat to sit it inside. 

He walked to the door at 8:45PM and knocked four good knocks. Voices on the other side halted. Grabbing the strap on the backpack he put on a smile just seconds before the door opened.  

OKAY, NOW BACK TO THE SHOW! ▶️

“You really gonna stand here in my face and act like you don't know what I'm talkin' about? Who are you?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Franklin, are you actually on something? What do you mean who am I? Seriously, who is Teddy? How would he even know about the notebook? It was just for me.”

“Oh. Just for you, huh? Yeah, so your tryna fuck shit up for me all by yourself?” 

“What!” You blurted out. “No, fuck up for you? What are you talking about?”  

“My bidness!” Franklin shouted. 

You flinched, he said that word so passionately that you stayed with it. “What business? The project at school?” You asked. Suddenly you'd gotten mad. This was turning into a full blown argument and something deep inside you brought in an unknown courage to stand up for yourself. You raised your arms and pushed him back creating much needed space between you both. 

“Look. I told you I was sorry,” you shouted back at him with just as much passion. “Yeah, I shoulda showed up that day we made plans to meet at the library. Helped you out. It was juvenile, stupid. I never meant to put your grade in jeopardy.” 

“My grade?” 

“Yes, isn’t that why you're so pissed off?” 

Franklin’s expression displayed pure confusion. “So you're telling me that you…” He trailed off and never finished, standing there looking like he had fallen into some sudden forum of private thought.

“That I what?” You said in effort to press whatever he was thinking out into the open. Instead of clarity, he offered you a calmer demeanor, vastly different from his passion filled glare. 

“You really don’t know what I'm talkin’ bout, do you?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “No. I don't. Like your business degree path I’m guessing.” You were still trying to figure it all out. “I don’t even know anything about your business. We didn't talk about anything like that. Like a business you start after the certification? But I wouldn’t, fuck that up.” You looked down and tapped the notebook before you looked at him.  “This. I wasn’t out to hurt you. Like black mail or some shit.”

“What's the truth?” 

“The truth?” 

Scary words that carried the weight of the world, and at the same time the very pile of shit Enrique had encouraged you to take care of. There was nowhere to run. Nothing to hide behind. 

“The truth is. I like you Franklin. Just too scared to tell you.” You shrugged. “Story of my life. Just shy. Probably a little outta this world or weird in some things. I don’t have the confidence to really go at it. See. I’m always terrified of the outcome. In order to cope, I uh, write. Imagine or whatever. Juicy isn’t really me. Just like Saint ain't really you.” 

You sniffed. Were those tears? 

“I could never be as confident as her,” you continued. “I made it all up. All it was was just my own way of coping with my own loneliness. Got tired of seeing everyone else around me happy. Content. So I made that happy place for me where no one could touch. Where I could be myself, or other versions I wanted to be.” You wiped at your cheeks. “It was nice. Feeling like I had someone that could really understand me. Someone I know had my back, no matter what. Someone I could take on the world with.” You moved your attention toward the window that held so much symbolism in the span of one long grueling day. “You don’t know how many times I tried to find all that in the real world. Or how bad I wanted it. Juicy and Saint have it.” Your eyes slowly left the window and back on Franklin. “But I know it isn’t real.” 

He hadn't taken his focus away. Even as you moved, his stare moved right along with you and your words. 

“So even though it was messed up. Which I admit, and am in no way making an excuse for. Just think how hard it is to stand before you right now and say all this. I worked so hard to get this damn notebook back… Did things I probably wouldn't have. But I was desperate. Because. Because I never wanted you to know me like this,” your voice shook.

Franklin raised his chin, listening sure, but he still said nothing.

“Who’s to say, we probably could have had a thing if it wasn’t for all this dumb shit I pulled. I could've just asked you out for a burrito at Mr. El Taco’s like I wanted to. It all seemed better in my head. I mean. Maybe we could have talked, got to know each other. It was nice talking to you when we were working on the project at your house away from class. And the ride home. I wasn't trippin’ that night we danced in the rain, was I? Feeling like maybe there could have been more to that moment?” You sniffed and shook your head. “But then you pulled away so I guess not. Wishful thinking.” You sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry Franklin, I shouldn't have dragged you into my own personal misery. But I didn't plan to ever show anyone. Or embarrass you in any way. And if I have, I never meant to.” 

You hated how he looked at you. How his eyes made you feel small. You couldn’t read his expression. Not only that, but you had just bared your entire soul. For the longest, no one knew that truth about you, but you. But now Franklin knew. He knew just how pathetic you were. A daydreaming coward, with pages and pages of what if’s… 

It all became way too overwhelming and you rushed past him rounding the corner to the bathroom, where you slammed the door shut before throwing the godforsaken notebook that had caused you the worst humiliation you’d ever experienced. 

As it hit the inside of the shower your back pressed on the door and you slid to the floor, knees up and head bowed down on top of them. You sucked in air and let out a shaky breath. You tried your best to stifle your crying but you couldn’t fight the urge anymore. You wrapped your arms around your legs and rocked. 

With the thought of the project in your mind, how you would make an excuse about skipping the day of the presentation became a present concern. How instead it would be better to just drop the class all together and maybe take it again once Franklin left. 

Knock knock. You heard your name from the other side of the wood. It had your heart pounding, but you made no effort to turn toward his voice, or open the door for him. 

“Hey. Come on.” 

Really, was there anything else left to say? You shook your head knowing he couldn’t see it. So you took a deep breath. “Um, no Franklin. I kinda just wanna forget everything. If you know what I mean. I just wanna be left alone.” 

“Please.” 

You shot up from your place on the floor and took hold of the handle, turning it until the water rushed out. Twisting the knob on the wall, the shower started up. With it all the way on ‘hot’, steam began to fill the room. You found your place at the door as you watched the mirror cloud until it disappeared within the light fog you’d created. 

“No. I’m taking a shower, okay. Just…” You shut your eyes. The words were hard to say but for once there was strength that showed itself. You’d taken care of the pile of shit, as horrible an analogy Enrique gave earlier that morning, but that’s how you cleaned up the mess. Admitting, and letting go and steaming yourself to death. You waved some away from your teary eyes. “Go home,” you whispered just barely. 

You felt like you sat there for days. The water running made it hard to hear anything from the other side, but you thought you heard the door close. He had left and you rested your head before getting up and cutting the shower and water off. It was over. You placed a hand over your heart to make sure it was still there. You must have been in that bathroom for twenty minutes, or more. You may have felt dead inside, but your hair had a field day with all the moisture it obtained. Well, at least there was that. 

You opened the door. The steamed jumped from behind you to reach the surrounding room only to dissipate later after its courageous flight into the unknown. With your eyes on the front door you walked over turning the lock. 

“Have a good shower?”

You bout jumped from your skin. You made a turn with your whole body, wide eyes and ready for a fight. 

“What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you left?” 

He shook his head with a casual effort to lightly shrug his shoulders. “Naw. We needed to talk. Still do.”

You noticed his hand. An apple, one from your share held tightly in his grasp half eaten. The walls were painted a soft cream color, giving the apartment a warm and inviting feel. Maybe that was why Franklin felt so at home. 

You huffed. “But I don't wanna talk to you, Franklin. I don't have anything else to say.” 

Franklin took a bite and chewed, mouth full as he spoke to you. “Okay. Then I'll talk. You just listen.” 

He sat the apple down on the kitchen counter and stood in your direction. 

“I'll admit. Finding that notebook. Reading what you wrote. It was all a little weird for me.” 

Great. So he was gonna stand there and tell you what you already knew. He thought you to be a fucking weirdo psychopath stalker. Strange, outta the ordinary. 

“I mean. The detail was insane. Then I thought, well damn, why is she in finance class? You could write a book. A good one too.”

Was it too soon to smile? You'd never gotten a compliment about your writing. Not unless it was technical. That was usually only by professors. The one time you had decided to share it had been a let down. It damaged you, and scarred you to silence. Whoopi wasn't the first. You thought he would finish, but Franklin just kept on. 

“Then I also thought. I wish she would've just told me.” 

Your heart began to speed in its beat pattern.

“Because then I could have said how I really felt.” 

You wanted so desperately to ask how, but your speech had fled. You were unable to speak, romanced in solely to the word felt. How did he really feel? 

Franklin grinned as he took a seat on one of the nearby chairs. After he made himself comfortable, he looked up in your direction. 

 “I always looked forward to class on Wednesday cause I knew I'd get to see you. I'd pay close attention to the answers you gave, how you always knew your shit. How you exceeded this confidence for yourself that made you so attractive to me. I mean don’t get me wrong, Juicy is bad, but she's only bad because she's fashioned after you. And when you laugh, it's just like playing my favorite song.” Franklin licked his lips. “You would always look good. Look like you put time into the details of everything you wore, all the way down to the pattern or that little speck of color on your earrings. There were days that I pretended you were doing that especially for me. And if you were, I noticed.” 

If he only knew. Your lips parted at this revelation, this confession. He went on…

“Whenever we talked, it was like you could really hear me. Then reading the notebook felt like being exposed in a way. I understand that. That need. That desire for that one. That one you could build an empire wit, cuz y'all shit that tight and solid. Like, it wouldn't matter if the whole world turned its back. I got you, you got me.” Franklin shook his head. “I don't know, juicy and Saint made it seem like a love like that might still be possible. Not hopeless. That if something like that couldn't be found. At least it could be built.” 

You almost wanted to tear up, and even more than that, ball your eyes out, but the whole situation was already beyond dramatic. You had done enough crying in the bathroom with the steam overload. Instead, you breathed out the breath you had held up and smiled at him. A genuine smile to what he said about you amidst all the other shit. 

"Well damn, Franklin. Write me to pieces. Nobody ever said anything like that so nice to me before. I mean. So real. Everything always seemed one sided. See it was always me with all these feelings. Never the other party. Unrequited." 

“Not this time.” 

You chuckled wiping at your eyes as you lowered your head. Those words, so sweet, you could eat um. 

"To be completely honest,” he continued. “I was feelin’ you from the very beginning. That first day I walked into the class. But uh, I didn't know you were taken. When I found out, I backed up. That night in the rain tho'. I was tempted to say fuck it and kiss you. I thought about that night a lot since then. And now that song. It reminds me of us.”

You were left frozen by the confession, cloud nine Temptation style. “Really, Franklin?”

A small laugh left him. “Yeah. But I don't ever wanna step on another niggas toes, so. That's why I never made a move. Truth be told, I like Mr. El Tacos too. Enrique’s good people. He woulda’ given us the hook up. And I would have loved to grab a burrito wit’ you." 

Damn so he actually knew Enrique, and uh…..

Record scratch…..

"Hold on. Pause. Back up. What do you mean, taken? I'm sorry. Who's toes would you exactly be stepping on?" You combed through your mind for a possible answer after catching on to what he’d said. A vital part you missed up on the cloud. This one totally stumped you. For the life of you, you couldn't figure it out. Who was he talking about! 

"My boy Will said y'all had a thing. And from the way y'all interact in class, I mean…" he shrugged his shoulders, smiled and stared at you from his position on the chair he sat on. 

Maybe Franklin wasn't as perceptive or as sharp as you thought. Couldn't be if he believed such a lie! Even a fool knew that was born in fables. You had this blank stare, all you could see in your view was red. 

"I am going to jail for murder. I can't. That nigga really told you I was, okay where's my knife at?" 

You had begun to rummage through the surrounding drawers and cabinets. Had you not been so angry you would have discovered it in the pocket of your purse. Where you always kept it.

Franklin watched only for a minute before he got up laughing and waving his arms as he met you nearing the front door. "Wow wow, chill. Calm down. It's coo.” 

“The hell it is. He lyin’ like that? Nun uh.” 

Had you known that Will was the reason you’d missed out on the chance of a rain kiss, you would have choked him out the day he slid you the spy binoculars. 

“So what you sayin', y'all not together?”

“Franklin. Seriously. I'm offended you'd even ask. Hell no no no and Definitely not ever! What do I look like hugged up with baby Curtis blow?”

Franklin laughed, he laughed so much he put a hand on his stomach. You didn't laugh, you had a permanent face of disgust, which only intensified with Franklin’s laughing fit. It really wasn't that damn funny. Franklin moved his hands up and down each of your arms possibly as a way of calming you. It did as much to keep you in one place at least. 

“Okay okay, it's alright. I got the answer I was lookin' for,” he said and grinned some as his laughing eventually stopped. “Let the man keep his life. So he couldn't help himself. Saw somethin' special and wanted to mark his territory. I get it.” His eyes moved over you before he raised his chin and the smile grew on him. “Looks like I got here first tho'." 

You weren't sure why your heart fluttered at those words but you rubbed your lips together trying to contain a smile before you looked up at him. The new sensation that found you so suddenly felt right, somehow. You noticed, and wondered if he did too. 

"Franklin,” you whispered. “Your hand is on my ass."

He held his gaze. "You want me to move it?"

You held your gaze too. "No." 

You were soon like magnets to each other. This unseen force was pulling, easing you closer together all the way until your lips connected. 

It was the most anticipated kiss you ever had in your life. You'd lost the opportunity in the rain that night heading back to your place, but this made up for it. For forever you contemplated what it would be like to kiss him. Every single Wednesday you sat in finance class staring at his lips, wondering what they would feel like over yours. Many things you couldn't describe to yourself. All you could be certain was that now that you were living this fantasy, his lips were extremely soft. 

The softest! 

In your savoring the moment, Franklin had groaned, eager for more. His warm tongue pushed for entry into your mouth, and once he squeezed your ass, it was all signed, sealed and delivered. You invited him eagerly, things going from sweet to indefinitely hungry in the split of a second!

You weren't sure what possessed you to do it, but you'd found the edge of his shirt, and with curious fingers proceeded underneath its fabric to satisfy your wonderings. 

Saint had these incredible abs that Juicy liked to feel up. Didn't matter what occasion. She just liked to touch him. You were eager to see how the real Franklin showed up. The area between your legs offered you some kind of signal when you felt how firm and hard they actually were, and the wetness you despised came all at once dosing your underwear. He worked out, though you could barely ever tell with what he wore. You grew greedy. Now you wanted the shirt off and gone so you could see. 

Letting your cheek go free, Franklin had busied himself with removing his jacket. He struggled, but you gladly offered help in getting it to come all the way off. Your kissing had not yet ceased in the entire process. Tongues in a vicious battle, each trying to dominate. You sneaked up a hand to sit on the side of Franklin's face. It eventually made its place around his neck and without realizing it, you both had started to move around the living room with him asking for directions. 

“Where,” Kiss, “Your room at?” Kiss.

Your lips were damn near swollen when you briefly pulled back to point him toward the right path. He obliged and placed one of his hands to the lower part of your back to guide you both there safely. You passed the suitcase filled with clothes along the way and made it into the bedroom, going until the bed became your final destination. 

Franklin’s shoes were the first thing to come off. You had gathered your T-shirt over your head and threw it down somewhere on the floor. And the discarding of clothes continued. Your pants, his pants. Your bra. His shirt. Your hands stopped moving. Eyes locked onto his bare chest and broad shoulders. Franklin grinned. You blinked yourself back when he caught you, going to remove your socks next. 

“Naw.” He said to counter. “Leave those on. I like um.” 

You tilted your head and gave him this weirdly stupid grin as he made his way over to the bed still in his boxers and socks crawling over you. 

Just like that, the kissing started back up. When he'd decide to leave your lips to explore the bare skin that presented a trail of temptation, you watched. 

By and by he slid his tongue. You became lost in ecstasy and wanting. His journey stopped at your breasts. Franklin hovered over one nipple and pressed his lips down to suck. You couldn't decide where they felt the best. He didn't leave your other breast abandoned. Moving from one to the other he conducted the same action. Then he moved his tongue just under the areola and pressed a kiss. Wet kisses continued all the way to your navel, moving up to your neck then back down to the skin around your belly button. 

“Ahhhh, Franklin,” You moaned, reveling in all the little memory markers he made over your skin. 

“That feels so good.” 

You could literally feel his smile. With both hands, he grabbed the band of your panties and slid the fabric up and over your knees before he tossed them. 

“Damn.”

“What!” You were just about to get self conscious. He sounded shocked.  Somethings wrong, you thought. He doesn't like it! Me! He doesn't like me. The way I look? Oh hell! But then… you heard him let out a breath and you looked down just in time to catch him looking down at you. You wondered what the hell it was he saw.

“Mmmm,” he smirked. “Pussy that fuckin’ juicy, already? I ain’t even do nothin’ yet.”

All the worry vanished, you sighed and laid on your back with a small roll of the eyes. The nickname Saint had given to story you! It definitely held merit. You swore, that damn bitch between your legs had a mind of her own. You always had an extra pair of panties handy because you never knew when she might act up. 

Caught off guard, Franklin had taken it upon himself to cup your entire mound, undoubtedly coating his hand in your wetness. Your body jerked at the slow massage he began to apply, while you listened to the sounds it made in the quiet of the room. Electricity ran through places inside your body you didn’t know existed. To feel his lips encircle one of your nipples was like the ultimate sensation with his hand situated in the place you only ever imagined it to be. 

You were already breathless by the time Franklin spread your thighs and bent down between your legs. His tongue lapped at your inner core until you were more wet than before, almost to the point of dripping as your body shook under the presence of his warm tongue. He was kissing you there like he’d kissed your lips in the living room. 

You extended your fingers to touch his head and run over the tight coils of his thick wooly hair, begging him to inch his marvelous muscle deeper inside you, only unable to say it out loud. All rational speech had gone from you. All you were able to do was cry out and bite your lip to try and stifle the moans. As Franklin closed his lips around the outer structure of your pussy and sucked generously on different areas, your leg found its place on his shoulder. You were gasping in air at the overwhelming sensations. Air that never seemed quiet enough.

You were at a crossroads, you wanted him deeper, but you also wanted to push him away. The intensity had your back arched as Franklin decided to run his thumb over your clit before his lips pulled at the delicate flesh to tease. His grunts rippled deep into your throbbing walls. His face became covered in all your juices. Nose and mouth. He offered your pussy one last kiss, lapping up what he could before your legs began to shake. You could no longer control them. It was like your body had a mind of his own. Sure, you’d been eaten out before, but never like this. Franklin sat up, his thumb still at your clit, only his thumb rubbed at a quicker pace driving you crazy. Your hand bunched up with sheet and some blanket. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before a line of liquid shot from your urethra. The feeling made you look down at yourself suddenly. No use trying to stop it, more came. Then more. Shit, you thought. Had you just peed on yourself? You were nervous to look in Franklin’s direction. What would he think, what would he say? You braved yourself a glance, finding that instead his face had lit up. Proud, fascinated, hell, dare your observation make out delight running across his deeply melanated features as he slid his hand down over his mouth with the brief indent of a light dimple on his cheek. 

“Dammmmmn. Squirting like that. All for me.” 

So thaaaaaat’s what Candy was talking about. An ah ha moment. Finally you knew exactly what an organism felt like.

“Makes me wonder how it’s gon’ feel around me.” Franklin pulled at the band on his boxers and down they went until only his white socks remained on him. You had no time to see what he was working with before he moved and made himself comfortable between your legs with his face just inches away from yours. His dick felt like a rock brushing against a part of your thigh.

“Hm. Taste.” He leaned and kissed you, tongue and all. This combination of your essence and remnants of apple. Damn, this nigga was so nasty. You loved it.

This was really about to happen! Sex with Franklin Saint. You were over the moon, ecstatic, the happiest girl on the planet even. Finally! Fucking finally you were getting something you really wanted. But then a thought. You called it out abruptly to warrant its importance. You were horny sure, but not crazy. 

“Franklin, wait wait hold on. What about protection?” You whispered beneath him.

He licked his lips, and looked down at you like you were speaking some foreign language he didn’t understand. 

“What?”

“Condom.” You clarified. “Got one?”

Franklin shook his head. “Naw. We good. I got you, I'll pull out.” He kissed you then moved to a spot on your neck, running his tongue over a previous bruise he’d left. 

That made you forget your statement, well almost. You’ll pull out, nigga really? Your logic was screaming at you. Bitch get up. You really gon' let this nigga raw dawg you! Your body betrayed you though, disloyal like a motherfucka, and you lifted up pressing deeper into another one of his kisses when you felt a hand run across the inner part of your thigh. Many a night your own hand had been there, but the sensation was to no comparison. You’d take Franklin's hand in between your legs over your own any day. You wanted this, so bad. To feel what story you felt. What you only imagined. For once you chose to be selfish. Let him be the one thing you did for yourself. Let this night be your story to tell. Not just a story this time. But then yet another thought flooded your mind, Babies. Immediately you moved your lips from under the kiss and your eyes met. Fuck your body! You could literally feel your pussy purr for him. Betraying your rational mind. The one Candy swore up and down you lacked. You threw your head back, annoyed by the push and pull of your own thoughts. You wanted to know what he would feel like inside you, but you weren't sure you wanted the responsibility that came with it. It might not happen, but there was always a possibility. Your cousin told you a similar story about the ‘pull out method’ her dude used. That was three kids later.

 "I'm serious, Franklin." You sucked in a breath. "We need protection." 

Suddenly that smile that made you weak emerged and Franklin moved his hand to reach down over the edge of the bed to grab his pants and dig in his pocket. When you saw his hand come back he was holding a condom decorated in gold. This motherfucker. Willy Wonka's golden ticket to go to the chocolate factory! Hot damn y'all was back in business. You took a mental note of the words on the wrapper before you found his gaze. Fuuuuuuuuuck. You were about to be destroyed. Would your shit even stretch enough to take it all in? To be determined. 

He chuckled. "Just tryna see where ya head was at babe." 

What this nigga say? He was testing you now? Who was mind fucking who? But really, the word Babe sounded nice rolling off his tongue and directed solely at you, in the potion you’d found yourself. You wondered, could it be turning into more? You were sure you could get used to it.

You watched him focus on tearing the wrapper open. You wanted to ask if he walked around with condoms on hand, or if he had all this planned out. You had a feeling it might be the second option. Franklin was strategic, just by the way you observed him in class with some of the things he’d said. He didn't appear to be a fuck boy like Francisco. Either way you were no longer pulling the strings. Franklin was in the lead which was more of a turn on then you thought it would be and for once you weren’t the one writing the story. Back to reality and the moment he reached down to put the condom on, you looked up at the ceiling. You had been withholding some vital information that might be important for what would soon come. But how to say it. 

“Alright. We good now.” 

You felt his lips and you opened your mouth to let your tongues play a little with each other. 

During all that Franklin slipped his hand between your legs running his fingers over your slippery folds. His dick was so close it was like an added heat. That golden ticket to pure imagination! You caught onto one of his arms almost immediately. His eyes opened and he broke the kiss. 

“What?” 

"Don't you fuckin' hurt me Franklin.” You held in before you breathed out. “I ain't ever done this before." The secret was unleashed, but this one couldn't wait. 

There was a pause, like he needed to soak in the new information for a moment. A smile found him and he licked his lips. “A virgin?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes nigga. That’s usually what never done this before means.” 

“A virgin,” he repeated. 

Now the smile on his face seemed stupid and you smacked your teeth somewhat embarrassed. 

“See, you tryna clown on me, move.” 

You made an effort to push up in order to get from under him. It was a futile attempt. Franklin’s strength alone was no match. He didn’t even try all that much in strain and effort to stop you. 

“Naw. It’s just.” He paused. “I mean, are you sure you wanna do this, wit’ me? No turning back once you do.” 

That really had sounded like some Bonnie and Clyde shit. No turning back. But he wasn’t wrong. But then, why the fuck wouldn’t you go through with it? You knew you would regret it if you told him to get up and go home. That all you should be focused on was some damn Finance project. If you were crazy enough to even suggest such a thing, would another opportunity ever come around again? After all that happened over the past few days, hell the past few hours, arriving at the point you had, not turning back made sense. You were willing to go all the way. Be selfish, and think about the consequences later. Who could really say they’d even got such an opportunity with a certain someone they’d liked so terribly. Not many you knew at least, and what was wrong with walking away with a story to tell? You moved one of your hands to rest on his cheek. You lifted your head to kiss him, and once your lips parted you nodded with a small smile. “I want to. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve wanted to do this with more, Franklin.”

He never took his eyes off you. It was like they drank you in, little by little.

“I’m just kinda scared, that’s all. Worried I guess about a thing, fitting into a certain place. I saw what that damn wrapper said.” 

Franklin dropped his head and you could feel the vibrations of a very light chuckle. Once it subsided he brought his gaze back. 

“No seriously. I didn’t expect that. Just please don’t hurt me, okay,” you said almost pleadingly.  

 Franklin leaned down closer to whisper in your ear, "Imma do it just like you wrote it baby…." 

Whhhhhhhhhy! Your body must have melted into the mattress. The way he said it, how he looked at you when he said it. All you could think then was which part. You’d had so many chapters filled with words about you and him doing, thangs. You blushed at such thoughts, but your mahogany completion wouldn't allow no shit like that to be visibly seen. Good thing too. Franklin couldn't know he had you so completely. Too much confidence could be bad for a person even though you were sure by now that he could feel the heat radiating off your body calling to him. Your inexperience, nervousness, and excitement rolled all into one. You stifled a giggle, moving a hand to cover your mouth. Why the fuck did you just laugh? Damn, you were so awkward! 

Franklin reached up to pull your hand away. "You trust me?" 

Strange question and one that came out of the blue. "Well. Guess I don't have any choice but to." The situation had kinda called for it, you thought at least. 

"I'm forreal. Do you trust me?" He asked for the second time. There was something different about his voice that said he wasn’t bullshitting. Something in his tone that asserted dominance. A tone that required clarity from you. He was so close to your face that your heartbeat sped up. If it went any faster you would have a heart attack. Determined not to look away from his eyes you held your gaze. Those long eyelashes that you loved in full view this time, up close and personal. You swallowed down your nerves. 

"I trust you, Franklin," had of course been your answer. You would wear this nigga name out, you were almost certain of it. You said it every other sentence, but then, it felt natural leaving your lips. Like it belonged to them.

He smiled and proceeded to move closer to plant a gentle kiss. 

“Good. Now just relax, and let me give you a good experience.” 

Good Experience. Hm. You liked the sound of that. Franklin rose up on his knees. He moved closer to your opening and placed the head of his decorated shaft between your slippery folds. He toppled over ready to push inside. You hissed and sucked in a couple deep breaths through your teeth and shifted, in an effort to get comfortable as your pussy tried to spread wide enough to accommodate his size. 

When he moved a little more you shut your eyes and shook your head. 

“Oh, F-Franklin, I don’t know. I don’t think it's gonna fit, I. It’s too much, Uh, it’s too much…” 

“I can stop,” he mellowed from above, although his face really told a different story than the understanding words that left him. 

When you didn’t say anything, Franklin went to move himself back, taking with him the little bit of inch that his length managed inside you. 

Coming to your senses, you halted his attempt with a grip on his shoulder and wide pleading eyes to follow. “No don't, I want this. I wanna make love to you..” You brought his head down and kissed him. “Just. Keep going. But really slow. I gotta get used to the feeling. It’s super intense.” You frowned and wondered if you could really do it. “Sorry,” you offered meekly.

“It’s okay,” Franklin whispered, leaning in to press his lips on your forehead. “Just relax for me.” 

You could feel his fingers glide over the skin on your thigh. The light vibrations sent a spring of butterflies loose in your stomach. Not at all good for your stomach, but it somehow started to ease up the bent up tension in your body. Even being butt ass naked, him seeing you in all your glory and vice versa, was not enough to bring on the kind of ecstasy that him touching you brought. It’s what you’d wished for, imagined since the first time you’d laid eyes on him. 

“You gotta let up on your muscles. Let your body go loose,” Franklin suggested. He began to move away from your forehead, administering light kisses on your cheek, the place under your lips, just below your chin. “I promise, the pain won’t stay. Just relax baby. Relax…” he soothed as his voice faded. “Trust me.”   

You held on to all the things you felt, closing your eyes to lose yourself in this moment of bliss. “I trust you,” you spoke into the room before you’d pulled in your bottom lip and noticed that familiar rock hard sensation traveling over your folds once again. “I trust you,” you said as it echoed in your mind.  

Franklin said your name, you opened your eyes. “Look at me,” he commanded. 

When your sight moved from the wall and back down to Franklin, you watched his lidded hues as you felt a heavy pressure overtake you slowly but, more and more. Your mouth flew open out of instinct. “Breath…” you heard Franklin say as you watched his mouth. You breathed and more of the same heavy pressure filled you up. You whimpered as you felt him bury inside your pussy inch by inch, but never did you break your gaze until naturally your face nuzzled into his neck. Your teeth grazing the soft flesh where his carotid throbbed. This time it was Franklin's mouth that opened. 

You wondered at that moment what it felt like for him. Judging by his facial expression, the feeling was indescribable, maybe even one of pleasure? For you it hurt. It all hurt like hell. You noted Franklin’s arms, his biceps and the veins that began to make themselves visible. You could tell he was trying with all his power not to hurt you, go as slow and gentle as he possibly could. He moved against you, just barely. 

“You okay.” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Y-Yeah. keep going…”  Your hands clung to Franklin’s shoulders while your eyes leaked salty tears, and he buried himself inside you. He waited, letting you get used to his size. You felt him tear through your hymen with one last push, and with that, he’d taken your virginity. The worst was over. Despite the pain you lifted your hips eager to move past what Franklin promised would only last for a short while. 

Franklin met your lips and began to move. Euphoria overwhelmed you, causing your hips to tilt to succumb fully to him. Mewls of pleasure bellowed out in a moan. Hearing this from him made the butterflies come back. The sound of his voice in such an erotic manner had you wanting to open your legs a little wider. Unable to fight the sudden urge you did just that and Franklin catching on to your invitation began to pump into you. It was uncomfortable, but his added thrust had been guided entirely by your arousal. Finally that bitch had come in handy with her water works! Franklin continued to move in and out, picking up the pace each time he did. The pain began to disappoint as the time carried on, until eventually you no longer felt it. Instead discomfort was now replaced by this new found pleasure, and you wondered in the silent places of your mind how better this might all feel without the condom as Franklin stole the opportunity to kiss you. 

When the kiss broke he started pumping into you with your eyes locked. You cried out into his mouth, but his kiss swallowed up the sound 

“So fuckin’ beautiful…” he mumbled through a staggered breath and over your lips. As you began to rock your hips matching his stride your muscles did something Franklin must've felt. He let out a moan that made him lower his head and close his eyes. A quiet, “Mmmmm,” escaping from deep in his throat. You got a peek of his face and fuck you we're falling in love. 

Franklin was always saying all the right things but something about his moment of vulnerability made you more aroused. Just as he held power, so did you. Your muscles had tightened on that dick like a vice grip, and just like that you’d become the fox instead of the helpless rabbit. 

You remembered something in Chapter five. Something that Juicy had done to Saint to drive him crazy during one of their many hot and sensual love making sessions. 

You flexed your coochie muscles, releasing him only to clench down again while you lifted your head just enough so that your tongue ran over the back of his ear. As you expected, it had an effect. Franklin’s body shook, dare you call it a convulsing shiver ran straight down that nigga’s spine and right away he groaned out this muffled “Fuuuuck,” into a nearby pillow. Proud of yourself you grinned. Whatever pain present in the beginning had long since left you, replaced with greed, for more and more of him. This drunken’ desire you felt deep in your belly. You wondered as he continued to move his lower half while his nuts gained their own constant tap against the skin closest to your ass, if afterward it would make you a constant fiend, wanting it all the time. Hell, your whole body bounced to Franklin’s rhythmic pounding and you held onto your knees extending your neck when his lips desired another taste for your heated and delicate flesh once he’d regained his composure. If he sucked any harder your skin would riddle with hickey’s that would be tough to conceal. But fuck did it feel so damn good to the point you just didn’t care.

Pretty soon he picked up the pace. Every thrust had taken you to a different state of mind. You’d be seeing stars, if not careful. The knocking of the headboard had begun to fill the room with its sound amongst both you and Franklin's heavy breathing and the groans that escaped him and the moans that left you. Each buck of his hips brought you closer to another peak. Your nails slowly softened to gentle, doting fingertips along the puckered flesh as you soothed up and down each side of his spine. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Y-yeah, it feels good,” you gasped.

Your breast bounced with each smack of skin, your lower lip submitting to a line of pearly whites all at once as you released for him, lower abdomen quivering deliciously while you screamed out his name, head snapping back against the pillow. Your pussy gobbled him up, desperate to milk him for all that he had as you watched Franklin’s features twist into a fit of raw pleasure. 

“I’m c-close.…” he breathed right before you felt his body trembling against yours as his hand pressed on your leg to hold it in place. His dick jumped between your inner walls and you knew even though the condom stopped it, that he came. This deep groan emitted from Franklin, and he collapsed over you riding out his own climax. 

When energies exhausted, the two of you lay connected trying to catch your breath under warm air and the sight of brown skin belonging to you and him doused in sweat to afterglow your love making.   

When Franklin lifted, he did so with great care, pulling his length from between your legs. A glance at the far corner in your room introduced him to the trash can he hadn't been aware of first coming in. He laid his back on the bed and pulled the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the can with hardly any effort. 

You both found the silence comforting. It got so quiet that after some time you turned your head to see if Franklin had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell. Facing the ceiling above you you crossed your fingers and shut your eyes tight. 

“Please.” You whispered into the surrounding air. “Don’t let this be one of my vivid dreams this time. You know, the ones I have that seem real but really aren't. Please let this be real. Send me a sign. Anything for that reassurance that this isn’t one of those times.” 

You screeched out a cry when you felt a pinch. “Awww, damn it what the hell, Franklin!” You frowned and held on to the place on your arm rubbing it to try and drive away the small stink left behind. Goofy ass. Franklin wore a child-like smile under those beautiful lashes of his– 

“What, you said, send you a sign. What’s the sayin’ pinch me so I know it’s real, well there you go.”

You lightly reached over and smacked his arm. “That hurt, you ass!” You moved your hands over to proceed to wrestle trying to produce for him, that same little pinch. He tussled with you, pushing your hand in between laughs.

“Aye, hold up, stop.”

“Hurt!” You cried out again. You poked out your lip and scooted your body away from him.

“Awww,” He taunted. “You mad at me now? Don't be mad.” 

“Not funny,” you said, sticking out your tongue. You pouted and folded your arms, still rubbing the pinch spot. He laughed. Then you laughed, finding in the moment it had become contagious, and damn near impossible not to join him. Once everything went silent, you grinned. 

“I like this playful side of you.” 

“My playful side,” Franklin asked.

“Mmm, hmmm.” You wiggled your shoulders making a comfortable place on the mattress that has you scooting closer to him. “I don't know if you're aware but most of the time you give off this impression that you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders. But I like this side of you much better. It reminds me a lot of that night we danced in the rain. When you finally let loose. You looked so free.” A pause. “That's the way I want you to feel whenever you're with me. Free.” 

When his fingers intertwined with your fingers and he lifted your now connected hands to kiss the top of yours, you turned your head to look at him. He smiled, and so did you. 

…

It must have been some time later when you groggily opened your eyes. The sound of voices and laughter forced you from sleep. You sat up trying to make sense of the surroundings. Your room, you were in your room, and there was, your heart skipped a beat. Franklin laid up next to you, his back fully exposed just below your view. At some point during sleep, he must have turned over. 

So it wasn’t a dream. It really happened. 

Once your smile dissipated, you listened more closely, and realized the sounds were coming from the living room area of the small apartment. A, “Oh hell no, that nigga just threw his jacket on the floor. Where he think he at, un uh…” blurted out knocking against the walls. 

Candy’s voice. 

Your eyes grew large as saucers as you heard high heels coming closer. No time. She opened the door and all you could do was pull the sheet to cover your chest and the rest of Franklin’s naked body. 

“Damnit Candy the hell, do you knock,” you whisper shouted. 

Candy’s lips poked out, her features translating a look of pride as she began to do a little dance in the silhouette of the door. 

“Bitttttttccccccchhhhhhh,” She emphasized. “I know that’s right. I take it y'all settled the whole notebook debacle then?” 

“Candy seriously get!” You turned to grab a pillow and without even realizing you threw it, barely able to hit her. 

She laughed before doing the same  dance while she giddily began to close the door. “My girl done gone and got herself some sex. Welcome to the other side hoe.” 

You shook your head and settled back on your place in the bed beside Franklin. You stared up at the ceiling still able to hear her voice before you felt movement. 

“Candice is funny…”

You automatically placed a hand over your chest after hearing his voice so suddenly. “Oh shoot, you're awake?” You smiled through gritted teeth, although he couldn’t see it. 

“Yeah.” 

Franklin swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. You hadn’t meant to look that hard but Got Damn, he hadn’t left you with much choice in the matter. You sat up once you realized he had begun to grab articles of clothes from the floor.

“Hey. What are you doing? I thought we could, you know, lay here for a while, just cuddle some,” you breathed as a smile spread over your lips. 

Franklin did not halt his gathering. 

“Naw. Gotta go.”

What the fuck, there went your thoughts, running a muck. What the hell did he just say? You pictured your knife, remembering where it was. A glare found you. He wasn’t serious. Couldn’t be. Not after. Not after he damn near crippled you! Your legs still felt like they didn’t belong to your body. “Go?” you said, giving yourself a second to process. 

“Yeah go,” Franklin solidified almost nonchalantly as he turned to face you. “Come on,” he snapped his fingers. “Hussle to it yellow socks. Get that pretty ass up. We go right now, we'll make good time,” he ended with a smirk. 

You tilted your head and slammed your hands down over your legs as you whined.“What!”

“You owe me some hours on the project,” Franklin said. “And while you cute, that pretty face don't get you outta it,” He added. “Still not all the way finished, remember? So we got work ta’ do. All the stuff is at my place. We gonna go there. Take care of that first. Then we'll see about slippin’ in round 2.” He looked you up and down. “The short version is, we up for the rest of the night.” 

That stupid silly ass smile found its way on your face. Couldn't stop it if you tried. 

“Hmm. By the time we done, El Taco’s should be opening up for breakfast.” 

You blinked slowly. It sounded like he’d thought it all out. “We.” You focused on that word specifically moving yourself to the edge of the bed, with the blanket still hiding your bare chest. “In we you mean the two of us, sure but, what do we represent?” 

Talk about not saying shit straight out. You waved your hand between yourself and him. “Like are we...”

Franklin grinned through a half lidded gaze. “What like, are you my woman?” 

You swore that there would never be enough butterflies. If you knew where they came from you would plug up the source quick, fast and in a hurry. 

“Well, yeah like that.”

A small chuckle. “All that dick I just gave you wasn't an obvious giveaway?” 

You rolled your eyes. Damn smart ass. There was this cockyness about him that made it hard to take him seriously. He already knew he had you. He stood there so smug and certain. But Fine, oh so fine. 

“Yeah, maybe?” You mellowed out.  But I kinda wanna hear you say it. It's what I need. Said out loud.”

“Okay. You're my lady.” 

He grabbed your hand and made a gentle pull so that you were off the bed and standing in front of him. He took the sheet you covered yourself with and tossed it. There you both were butt ass naked in the way of the L.A moonlight standing face to face. Your eyes traveled. The top tear of your teeth pressed down onto your lip. Yeah, you were right. Seeing was believing. 

Franklin casually slipped fingers over your swollen slit. It almost brought you down. Everything on your body was so damn sensitive. Good thing he was right there. He caught you. You closed your eyes letting out a labored gasp.

 “This belongs to me. Got Franklin Saint written all over it. I took it. Claimed you in the process.”

He lifted your chin, so you had nowhere to look but to his eyes.

“That answer your question, Miss Juicy?”

You nodded, drunk. “Uh huh, Saint.” 

That nigga coulda told you to help him rob a corner store for two packs of gummy bears and you’d probably do that shit, you were so entranced. 

“Good.” Franklin leaned to press a light kiss on your forehead. “Now. Come on. Get dressed. Let's go.” 

At least this time, reality had deemed far better than any story you could write. Still curious, you’d be sure to remember to ask him just what was in that backpack.

…………………………………….Continue? Nah, that’s it.

Taglist: @fairy-cores-world  @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr @slippinninque

A/N: Thank you to every reader that left their love and support for my work. I’m so glad to have come to the finished conclusion for Write Me To Pieces. It’s been a journey and to keep it a buck, the comments have helped me push through to the finish line. Hope you all enjoyed the experience. Realistically, it will probably read quicker than it took to write. Peace out ✌🏾

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

I would like to know your opinion about something (and other women's if they'd like to join).

Earlier this week I saw a post on instagram where woman says she does not wear any makeup on the red carpets. Really nothing more than that text and an edit of pictures of her. So many comments were insulting her looks, and I mean the top comments with thousands of likes. I won't get too much into what they were saying to her, but some of the stuff wouldn't even be able to be hidden with makeup (phisically impossible).

And I think to myself, women who wear makeup don't get this kind of treatment (at least not this blatant). They might even have obvious cosmetic procedures done, but people mostly don't comment that in their pictures? Their comment section is usually from girlboss women types.

It seems that people see women with makeup on, and even though they might see the same "imperfections" they see on a makeupless woman, they will think "At least she is trying".

Do you agree or think that I am missing something?

"At least she is trying"

Ooh anon, you’ve just landed your fist on the big red button that triggers a rant - cheers!

This is something I think about SO much, because I have 100% seen this pattern, including in my own thinking, and it fascinates me. Some other examples of this phenomenon, in my opinion:

women starting social media videos with “I’m sorry I’m not wearing any makeup, I know I look like shit, but I just had to jump on here quickly and…”

women advising on how to use heartless curlers overnight “so you look like you’ve got up early and done your hair”

catching myself thinking about ways to aestheticise/feminise my body hair, ways to make it look intentional

I see this SO much. This undercurrent that the key is the effort, the trying, the caring. That it’s ok to look ‘bad’ as long as you put your energy into grovelling about it, or it’s ok to save energy as long as you still look ‘good’. The two go hand in hand - women feeling they have to put effort in and look ‘good’, or at least have to do one or the other. It’s not just about looking ‘good’, it’s also about caring that you look ‘good’ and trying to look ‘good’ and putting time and energy into looking ‘good’.

I don’t have an articulate explanation for it but I have this sense that it is so so important, so I love you for giving me the chance to talk about it, thank you! And I’d also love to hear other women’s thoughts.

[scribblue]

I wanted to take a moment to tell you how incredibly inspiring you are to me. I just wanted to express how much you inspire me. You've made me feel like I can truly create and achieve more than I ever thought possible. You're a huge reason why I keep creating, and seeing your art always makes me so happy. You even inspire me to make my own! You've not only shown me the power of creation, but you've also given me the courage to believe in my own ability to inspire others. Because of you and your incredible work, I've felt empowered to push past my own creative limits and create things I never thought imaginable. I am deeply grateful for everything you've made and shared. Your work has had such a profound impact, it's made me truly believe in my own creative or, shall I say, true potential and I feel like I can inspire others too. You've unlocked a part of me that I never knew existed, showing me that I can create on a level I previously only dreamed of. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you've shared with the world. Your creations are a constant source of joy and motivation for me, and knowing you're out there creating makes me so happy and eager to share my own creations as well. Thank you for being such a beacon in the creative world.

I'm gonna actually soBDJCNDNCNOHMYGOD?????? This is so fucking sweet :,,,^) I honestly don't think I can articulate just how much it means to me– art can be such an echochamber sometimes and comments like these really fuel me and remind me that my work can reach people and truly mean something to them the way it does for me. Art/writing/creation in general is such a passion of mine and I'm so happy my work could have such a positive impact on you, and inspire you to spread that to others as well!! I really appreciate your kind words :,,,^) thank you so so much and KEEP CREATINGGG the world needs your voice !!!!

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

I didn't realise that Ashley was a fan of the Scotland rugby team 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 or that she knew enough about the sport 🏉 to travel from London to Edinburgh for this match. She is now aware that the Famous Grouse Nations Series is sponsored by @thefamousgrouseuk and is also a proud sponsor of both teams @scotlandteam and @glasgowwarriors. It is good for her to know is not in her scope.

It seems she had less work to do during her visit to the United Kingdom this time, which highlights something that has been demonstrated 😳

Posted 10th November 2024

@forgetmenotlass I don't understand how someone who claims to live in Scotland could be unaware that Sassenach Spirits is part of an American company, not a Scottish one. Ashley, who is Sam's employee at Sassenach Spirits, does not work in the UK for her job. She and SH’s team cannot operate in the UK because the company is registered in the US.

I’m glad you were excited about the game, but taking a potential client to a rugby match to offer them What? Sassenach Whisky? If you’ve ever attended a match, you know that this whisky is not served at Murrayfield Stadium.

You've come to the wrong blog to defend SH. There are no jealous and frustrated women here; we understand how the world of SH works. It seems to me that you don’t grasp much about business or rugby. Next time, try a better defence.

——-

The comment was deleted but here is the answer:

Of course, she was at the rugby match. SH got the ticket, which was in one of the best areas of the stadium. Her visit to Edinburgh last August (not July) coincided with the Edinburgh Festival, which promotes Scottish brands, as is customary during the festival. SH brought his American team to participate in these promotional activities.

This current trip, lasting two weeks or more, is a follow-up for some bar photos that were not covered in August. Unfortunately, we have not seen any major progress during these challenging weeks for the business. SH selects the bars that he frequents, so she visits them to take photos of cocktails, meet people, and enjoy drinks. I have always wanted to see her portfolio from her time at Jägermeister.

There seems to be a lack of understanding: business is not synonymous with friendship. Her presence at the game is SH's way of showing that his business is thriving, surrounding himself by many people as possible to show off.

SH's relationship with Ashley will never parallel his relationship with Alex, as Ashley was hired to perform brand service work, not to act as SH's business partner. As long as she is employed by SH, the term "friendship" is too strong to accurately describe their relationship, even though she wants to portray it differently.

@facts-just-facts Yeah, during the match, SH's primary connection is with his pal sitting beside him. There isn't much conversation with Ashley, who is American and, like many of SH's fans, doesn't know much about rugby 🏉 She tends to mimic SH's actions. Since she works for him, if he stands up, she does the same. She serves as a distraction for him outside of work hours, which is part of her job.

—-

@forgetmenotlass Why have you chosen to visit my blog just to twist my words and distort my messages for your agenda, and to promote the agendas of other bloggers? When they lack something original to say in response and cannot articulate their position, this kind of deceptive behaviour becomes sneaky and harmful.

You may have a different opinion than mine. Perfectly normal. But I don't have to agree with your lack of respect because you don't agree and you have no arguments to argue.

You may need to sit back and take a good look at yourself and your comments as well. What I will say is that I am only answering your questions: Why doesn't what you're trying to say or ask make much sense?

1. (Ashley is an employee of Sam's, in the UK to do her job) If someone is an employee in the UK, it means she's working in the UK to do her job:

Ashley is Sam's American employee, but she did not move to the UK to do her job. She does not work in the UK, and to do so she will need a visa unless she is being posted to her employer's UK branch, in which case the SS company is not registered with Companies House (not because the foreign entity does not need or need it) is because her employer's UK branch does not exist.

She physically works in the USA. If she's not a British or Irish citizen; has pre-settled or settled status from the EU Settlement Scheme - or you've applied and you're waiting for a decision. You have a family permit from the EU Settlement Scheme. She would need a visa to work in the UK anyway no matter who she is working for.

Also, her situation is not compared with the Outlander cast, crew, members of Starz, Sony, Lionsgate or whatever multi-national filming industries they are related to. These groups are in another category and applying for another type of Visa.

2. (All of us in Scotland were excited about the game) as I said I respond to your comment and you give the impression that you are in Scotland.

Whether true or not, this is your concern. If you are initiating these attacks, it might be due to a lack of arguments for a meaningful discussion. If your expression is unclear, continuing the discussion may not be productive. Additionally, you made the mistake of indicating that you were in Scotland.

What people think or say about me is a reflection of their insecurities. I choose not to waste my mental energy on this kind of people, Because "What other people think of me — it's none of my business."

The difference is that I understand the law and can defend my point of view. This is a legal principle, and I will not change my mind. If you don't understand or don't like it, please be patient; I can't help you with that.

In the meantime, I will be observing and blogging. Ultimately, it's up to me to decide what to do with my blog.

Here’s an inspirational quote of the day: ………BACK OFF!

Any objection!

Thank you for visiting my blog 💙

[bloodycraquelures]

I'm feeling really vulnerable right now.

Like maybe I don't want to be perceived or seen by others but I need reassurances that it's okay to be myself.

I know that I may be a nutcase to you guys but I have feelings and lately I've been more and more reclusive because of some issues that I think are maybe problematic to some of you. I dunno maybe this post isn't making sense cause my brain is french and isn't that articulate when it comes down to expressing myself.

I just need a safe space to share some of the things I'm feeling and experiencing but I'm so fearful of being judged and seen as a problematic shipper that I don't engage as much as I'd like to.

Like I'm deeply afraid and don't want to be judged, that I'm curating the things I like on my own blog for the sake of others who don't even matter.

I need to be brave and be myself at 100% on MY blog. Like I know those haters will always be there but maybe some of you will understand or relate.

In matters of fictions, I tend to prefer mature topics and everything. It's a side of me that I don't think you guys know. Cause I don't feel at ease to share this side of me with you. That's on me cause I'm a coward but deeply I need to share the things I love about my favourite fictional characters.

Most of the fanfictions I read are pretty dark, I mean our show NBC Hannibal is already pretty dark from the start so it's not that surprising to see and read some pretty dark things. Things that I'd never condone in real life of course! But I saw that some of you are pretty quick to judge someone based on what ship they have! I mean, a person that I really liked actually deactivated their account cause of behaviour like this. And I don't want to let things come to that on my account.

Back in my days, on livejournal I didn't bat an eyelash about posting things I was passionate about cause I had a community and we knew how to interact with others. Like this simple rule was : don't like, don't read/interact and move on!!

If you truly got the ick about a certain type of posts/fics, with the tags, you could already avoid them.

I thought that AO3 and tumblr would change things for the better cause well, people were careful and would surely would exclude some tags that they didn't like. And for a while it worked and we were happy.

Except lately, you have to spend your days justifying what you're writing and what you read or post just because some people don't heed the warnings or the tags. They just read and when they don't like something, they will, with extreme passion, rant about it in the comments and or make a post on tumblr or other websites. They will call you disgusting or weird and will pat themselves on the back cause they think they're on the "good side" of a fandom/book/show.

So yeah, it's happening, and I'm weak, I feel ashamed about things I like to read when I never was before.

People are so negative about everything, that they forget the previous rules that were established ages ago. They consume everything and are forgetting basic etiquette.

I don't know about you, but things aren't looking well.

However, NO MORE, I'm deciding that this must stop! So from now on, I will post about things that I'm enjoying, I will tag my content and won't look back. If you don't like it, be an adult and block me. I'm not responsible for the bad experiences you will have just because you decided you were mature enough not to block the tags or the warnings!

[soaps-mohawk]

sorry if this is something you dont wanna answer but im like super frusterated rn

does it also annoy u when u read like a good oneshot n the only comments are like "omg pt 2 plsssss"?? bc it annoys me like can we talk about the writing first and actually appreciate it😭😭

As an author? Honestly? Yeah.

I've seen countless others that have spoken on this that have articulated it far better than I could, but yeah. I get where those comments come from and what they mean, they liked it so much they want a part 2, but it doesn't come across that way to authors. Most authors are going to see it as demanding, especially as fanfic authors because we do this for free in our spare time. It's one thing if the author asks if anyone is interested in a part 2. Then yeah. Comment that to your hearts content. Sure there's better ways to phrase it "omg I loved this so much, would you consider a part 2" or "omg this was amazing, please do a part 2." Just commenting "part 2 please" sounds demanding. Doesn't matter if you say please or not, you can't even take the extra two seconds to say how much you enjoyed it? IF you enjoyed it?

It's like the decades old trend of the "more please" or "update soon" comments. Those don't come across as kind and supportive as you think they do. Again, they sound demanding. You took the time to comment but couldn't even add in a few words about how you enjoyed it? How you liked it? "I loved this so much I can't wait for more." See how much better than sounds than just "more please"?

I literally had someone on Ao3 bookmark CRCB yesterday and they put "update please"...like I literally just posted the new chapter. I literally just updated and you're demanding more? That's how fic writers are going to take that. There's no way you can frame the "update soon" or "please update" comments to have most fic writers see them in a positive light. Especially when the new chapter was just posted. Like what do you mean update soon, I just did.

Fics take time. Chapters take time. Commenting in a demanding tone, even if YOU don't think it's demanding, is not going to get you an update faster. I know a lot of fic writers that will hold off updates because of comments like that. I don't reply to comments that are demanding because what do you even say to that?? There's no compliment there.

Anyway, long story short, if you're going to comment, at least say something about how you liked the chapter or you enjoyed the fic and the story. Doesn't have to be some long expose, one sentence is enough to make a fic writer's day. Honestly, a key smash will do. Just don't be demanding in the comments. That's not going to get you an update any faster.

[satvpsandowns]

I'm rereading Blue Lock after watching Episode Nagi in cinemas and I'm already at the end of Manshine vs Bastard and I keep finding new questions and answers regarding Reo and Nagi's relationship. It's so interesting. I love both of them so much, I never thought I'd get invested again in manga characters and their development.

This is my small rambling, a way to put into words what I've gotten so far.

Nagi was so angry and confused during the second selection while Reo was sad and a bit lost. I felt so bad for Nagi, he was excited while playing with Isagi, they gained Barou and Chigiri, then Isagi left, and he had to face being alone while having broken up with Reo a couple of matches ago.

After the u-20 game, Reo was trying to get back to his original plan and dream and Nagi...we still don't know that much yet, but their relationship was tense.

The Manshine game was a great battle field to showcase the new Reo, to prove his new polished weapons, he made the opening shot, and tried, for the first time, to directly work towards his ideal self: the all rounder, versatile midfielder.

Isagi and Reo's relationship has always been interesting to me. They don't insult each other, they have a certain level of respect, maybe because both are similar (overthinkers, playmakers, "average not-so-average"). But they are rarely in the same wavelength, I mean, Isagi doesn't know that much about Nagi and Reo's relationship, so he misses a couple of layers in Reo's dialogue, he sees Reo independently, so that's why I loved this game, he kept acknowledging Chigiri's and Reo's improvements: the 44 golden zone and metavision, respectively.

MC vs BM proved to the reader that Reo is a strong player, a threat, while still being insecure about his abilities, his style and his talent. In sum, a latent potential of greatness. Reo acknowledges Isagi back as someone who keeps changing and evolving in better versions of himself, he knows he's on his way too but then, Nagi happens.

I found this turn understandable. Nagi was frustrated, he said he wanted to defeat Isagi because it was the freshest problem in his mind, the easiest to articulate. Even Prince "was weirded tf out", even Reo was like "..." I'm not sure what else happened in his head (let's wait for EpiNagi ig ;_;) but he saw how strong his team was, how confident they were playing, how good Reo had gotten.

His request to Reo, the "I need you" was the breaking point. Reo was still in the process of relearning himself. Getting what you formerly wanted so desperately hits different depending on your mental state. And Reo's mental state wasn't at his best yet. The reader tends to, sort of, know whose character has already wrapped up the key points in their development, and I take Isagi and Reo's comments on each other as an affirmation of "work in progress".

So Nagi verbalising his dream, what he wanted, shook Reo's focus. And I don't blame any of them. Reo wanted to be needed by Nagi, his first friend, his partner who made his dream feel achievable, while Nagi wanted to feel the warmth and comfort (and fun) of playing soccer and getting challenged. Both wanted to feel like protagonists, just like Isagi said.

There was a chance and they took it. They succeeded immediately, and just as easy, old and new problems unfolded. Only this time, Reo seems more ready to battle on his own.

Again, Isagi's "teenage drama combo" commentary gives the reader a clue: that comfort and having a soft spot for each other is not really a problem. It's a pillar for development, a tool, but not the only one, as it can be easily read at NEL level.

So after getting back together and tying the game, Isagi recognizes Reo's metavision, but some pages later, he pushes and stops Nagi and tells him he had surpassed him. This time Nagi doesn't seem to mind, for his dream of defeating Isagi was accomplished with his "revolutionary five volley shot" or something like that. This crystallises the new problem: they might be on good terms again but it can only last so much, it may last even less. And as a reader and someone who likes both characters so much for what they, individually, entail thematically, I'm anxious and excited.

In a few words, Reo has a soft spot for Nagi, and Reo is like a compass to Nagi. That's a given. Both respect, recognize and value each other to a degree that's just SO DAMN SWEET.