Where we let the eyebrows do the talking

Sometimes I think people misunderstand what it means when someone says, "I don't write for kudos or comments."

And I do mean it — I really do. I write because there’s a story in my head that won’t leave me alone until I get it out. I write because I love exploring character dynamics and emotional textures. I write because shaping a scene, pulling something messy and human out of my brain and onto the page, makes the noise quiet down.

But that doesn’t mean the silence doesn’t sting.

I'm in a small fandom — tennis RPS — and right now, most of the energy is around the same few pairings. It would be so easy to just churn out endless Carlos/Jannik PWPs. And look, I get the appeal! I’ve written them! But I’m not feeling them right now. They’re not where the story lives for me at the moment.

Instead, the narratives pulling at me are Darren/Jannik, or the softer, tangled dynamics of the Team Sinner polycule. They’re not the flashy ships. They’re not what people are actively refreshing AO3 for. But they’re where the heart of it is, for me.

And the thing is: when I post one of those fics — the ones I’ve sat with, nurtured, maybe cried over a little — and it gets no response at all? That hurts. Even though I knew it might happen. Even though I didn’t write it for a flood of comments or a mountain of kudos. It still makes me pause. It still makes me wonder if I should’ve just kept it to myself.

It’s not about validation — not really. It’s about connection. It’s about that hope that someone, anyone, might read it and feel what I felt. Might see the story the way I saw it. Might quietly whisper, yes, this.

And sometimes someone does. Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes it’s one person, and that’s enough. But when there’s silence? Yeah, I notice.

Still — I’m not going to stop writing what matters to me just because it’s not the popular thing. I can’t. That’s not why I started, and it’s not why I keep going. I’ll keep writing Darren carefully reading Jannik’s body language. I’ll keep writing pack dynamics and slow burns and quiet domesticity and softness. Because those are the stories I care about. And I’d rather care deeply than be trendy.

So if you’re in the same boat — writing what you love even when it feels like no one’s looking — I see you. I’m proud of you.
We’re not shouting into the void.
We’re sending out messages in bottles.
Someone might find one. Someone might need it.
Hell, maybe we needed to write it, just to breathe a little easier.

And that’s enough. That has to be enough.
But it’s also okay if we hope for more.

My most-played song last week was Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan — it’s been living rent-free in my brain all week, and I’m not mad about it. Her voice, the drama, the lyrics... It’s just doing things to me, okay?


I’ve also started getting back into the charts recently — not on the radio like I did when I was younger (shout out to Sunday afternoons with the Top 40), but now through Spotify’s “Top 50” playlist. It’s kind of fascinating. A lot of it just fades into the background, but every now and then, something grabs me enough to go diving through the artist’s back catalogue and start adding things to playlists. There’s still a fair amount I skip straight through, but I’m enjoying the ritual of checking in weekly.

One thing I’ve noticed? The charts change way less than they used to. Songs stick around for weeks, even months, and not just the big hits. I'm not sure if it’s the streaming culture or just me getting older and more aware, but it’s interesting watching the trends settle in.

Anyway. This week’s earworm goes to Chappell. No notes. 10/10.