#Universal Constants Remix

[nerdallwritey]

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!!  - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days. 

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine. 

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up. 

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo. 

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger. 

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk. 

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely. 

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately. 

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” 

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own. 

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms. 

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.” 

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you. 

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party. 

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that. 

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her. 

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine. 

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left. 

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you. 

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach. 

But you faltered. 

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You do. You know you do.” 

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up. 

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off. 

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion. 

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place. 

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him. 

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy. 

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t. 

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him. 

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection. 

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral. 

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless. 

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He approached you slowly. 

Seductively. 

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway. 

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?” 

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head. 

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed. 

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch. 

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features. 

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body. 

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous. 

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway. 

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake. 

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face. 

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention. 

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt. 

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you. 

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband. 

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. 

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything  to end this weird tension you were feeling. 

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet. 

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you. 

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing. 

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh. 

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.” 

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge. 

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears. 

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders. 

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work. 

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin. 

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over. 

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child. 

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing. 

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand. 

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued. 

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face. 

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky. 

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair. 

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased. 

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory. 

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp. 

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him. 

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.” 

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded. 

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks. 

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process. 

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh. 

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance. 

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited. 

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body. 

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.” 

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes. 

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly. 

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip. 

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight. 

[randomvarious]

1990s Drum n Bass Playlist

Back to the Sunday night electronic playlist-posting mines for the next good while. This week I've got a little update to my 90s drum n bass playlist, with something that's very dark and something that's much, much lighter.

The dark one comes courtesy of a guy from the UK called Ambush, whose career only consisted of a couple 12-inches and an album between '96 and '98, and is not to be confused with *The Ambush,* which is an alias of German electronic music legend Oliver Lieb. Ambush made his debut with a 12-inch called Gain on Possible Records, a dark dnb label that was founded by Mick Harris, who was the former drummer in famed death metal band Napalm Death.

Taking up the A-side on Gain is a tune called "Tracking," which would later find its way onto a Possible double-disc comp called Sonics Everywhere in 1997. "Tracking" is this steadily burrowing piece of filthy subterranean grime, with this constant no-give snare hitting on every other beat while a simply demonic, distorted sub-bassline rumbles mercilessly beneath it 😈; potential theme music for the single-most evil entity in the universe. Only has ~1,100 plays on Spotify.

And for the yang to "Tracking"'s Yin, we have something pretty dang unique. UK future jazz-funk band RSL are not known for making drum n bass, but it appears that, three years prior to their debut release, they first appeared on a South African compilation in 1998 called ReRooted: Beatz From Da Ground Up, with "Elungelo." This is a song that appears to be sampling soulful traditional African folk vocals and then pairs them with beats—first, a nice and chill-grooved, bare-bones trip hop one, and then a sudden shift to dnb. And to be honest, I kinda dig the trip-hoppy portions more on this one, but if something has a considerable amount of drum n bass on it, then it automatically gets categorized as a dnb tune; those are just the rules. Around 9,100 plays.

Ambush - "Tracking" RSL - "Elungelo"

And for the YouTube version of this update, I was able to add those two songs to it too, but I also added another one that can't be found on Spotify as well. And this is another dark one, from a master of those dark dnb arts himself, Technical Itch. In '98, this Birmingham, UK native applied his craft with a remix of Manchester, UK act Perfect Combination's "Remember." Scratchy and blown-out snares, wormy bass squelching, and an occasional eerie synth to remind you where you are, which is a place that you really need to escape from, pronto 😰. This remix has appeared on a double-12-inch called Partisan Volume One, one of the first releases in the catalog of Partisan, an ultimately short-lived label that was launched after a group of staffers acrimoniously split from dnb juggernaut Moving Shadow. Song has a little over 4,800 plays on YouTube across a few different uploads.

Perfect Combination - "Remember (Technical Itch Remix)"

And this playlist is on YouTube Music too.

So this update now brings us to 13 songs that total 84 minutes on Spotify, but over on YouTube, we're now at 30 songs that total 191 minutes! There's just so much more great, obscure 90s dnb in that YouTube one, including a handful of cuts from a compilation that's not even listed on Discogs called Now What Kind of Music Do You Call That?

And if you want something shorter, I've also got a couple dnb playlists that are specific to a certain year from the 1990s:

1997 Drum n Bass: YouTube / YouTube Music 1998 Drum n Bass: YouTube / YouTube Music

Next week, some breakbeat!

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part six

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, one (1) drunk asshole, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 5.9k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday!! it's August here in the real world but it's Valentine's Day in the Mar[r]y Me universe, so what will these two do surrounded by love and pink hearts? can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts!

part six - pancakes

God, I made a mistake.

Bradley has suffered through five days of the same thought on a constant loop. His brain started up the second he walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Only getting short reprieves when he had to fly. Even being asleep wasn’t safe; Mary had been consuming his nights, wonderful dreams of being with her intermixed with bad dreams of having to watch her with another man.

He felt like he was living one of those nightmares for the last three songs, watching Mary dance and giggle with some guy in his twenties.

I should be the one making her laugh. My hands should be on her hips, not his.

He cursed Natasha for dragging them to this stupid Valentine’s Day speed-dating event. Except, the speed dating isn’t actually speed dating; it’s some sort of convoluted speed dancing.

As announced by the host, there are only two rules:

Every person must wear the wristband they received upon entry; the wristbands correspond to your relationship status, so respect the color code system.

If you’re dancing, you have to dance with a new person for each song.

“Unless you’re really hitting it off with your dance partner.” DJ Socket had added with a wink before starting the night off with a horrible remixed version of My Funny Valentine.

Natasha, Callie, and Mary had laughed at the bad song choice before throwing back a shot of tequila and shimmying their way to the dance floor, pink wristbands glowing under the disco ball.

According to the event flyer that had been spammed in the group chat for the last two weeks, a pink wristband meant single and ready to mingle.

Bradley watches as the infant with a bad haircut tries to hit on Mary to what he thinks is a Justin Bieber song, absentmindedly playing with his own wristband. White. Here for fun, not to flirt.

He’s having a terrible time.

“Rooster. Rooster? Bradley!”

The use of his real name snaps him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Bob, what was that?”

“I asked if you were okay. You don’t look great.”

He feels his heart clench a little bit. He’s always had a soft spot for the bespectacled man, Bob paying attention to small things that others rarely caught. Though even a blind person could see the way Bradley is staring at Mary, the pining radiating beyond the two high-top tables the Daggers had claimed as theirs.

“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.”

Bob raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but Harvard interrupts him before he can investigate further.

“It’s weird seeing the girls in dresses instead of their coveralls.”

“I’m just wondering how they convinced Callie to wear heels. Omaha practically had to bribe her to wear something other than her Vans to our wedding.” Fritz says, his red wristband - taken and in love - flashing when he takes a sip of his bright pink drink. “God, these drink specials are awful! This is the last time Phoenix gets to choose where we go.”

The boys laugh as his face twists in disgust. Natasha is great at many things, choosing a good bar is not one of them.

“We should have let Jake plan; he found that complex with the mini golf and everything. That was so much fun!” Aaron adds before turning to Javy. “Where is Jake? I thought he was coming.”

Javy shrugs. “He was supposed to be here, but he texted me and said he wasn’t going to make it. Something came up, apparently. He said everything was fine, so I’ll check on him tomorrow. Make sure he’s all good.”

“Mary looks really good.”

Bradley stiffens, his mood dropping from happy back down to pissed off as steam pours out of his ears. She doesn’t just look good. She looks amazing. The light green, satiny material of her dress is hugging her figure just right, showing off her curves in the most delicious way. The slit up her leg showing off the thighs he dreams about getting his hands on again.

She looks gorgeous.

But Harvard doesn’t get to say that about his girl.

She’s not your girl. You fucked up.

“There she is! Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” Harvard stands up, holding his bar stool steady while Mary climbs on, scooting it in when she’s settled.

“If you’re going up, I’ll take a water, please.” She smiles at him, cheeks flushed from dancing.

“You want anything stronger to go with that water?”

“Vodka sprite, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

“You got it, sweetheart; anything for my new backseater!” Harvard flashes his toothpaste commercial-ready smile at her before making his way through the crowd to the bar. Him and his pink wristband quickly getting lost in the masses.

“I missed something. Backseater?” Javy asks.

Bradley watches her laugh and lean on the table, grabbing a chip after Aaron pushes the basket toward her. “He’s just trying to be funny. We’re both headed up to Lemoore next week - I’m helping out on some repairs, and he’s doing some sort of mentor program? I don’t know exactly. Anyway, Cyclone suggested we drive together since we’re staying at the same hotel. I told Brigham he’s driving since he insisted on getting this godawful 30-foot pickup truck, which makes me his temporary backseater.”

“Make sure you don’t eat anything before riding with him, or you’ll paint the windshield.” Omaha jokes.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please. If I didn’t hurl after a greenhorn took me up and executed one very poor barrel roll before getting himself grounded, I think I can handle Harvard’s driving.”

“You’ve flown?”

“Was it an FA-18?”

“How do you fuck up a barrel roll?”

“Did you like it?”

Questions are hurled at her from every direction, all the boys interested in the fact that their favorite mechanic had been airborne in the backseat of a fighter jet before they knew her.

“I did like it!”

Bradley’s heart warms a bit when she answers his question first.

“It was an FA-18, and I think we technically hit Mach-1, but my brain has burned the trauma of that hop from my memory. It was fun until that bad maneuver because when I say greenhorn, I mean green. Like as fresh as you can possibly be.” She shutters, only partially joking. “But I didn’t throw up, and that’s a major point of pride for me.”

“It’s only because you hadn’t eaten yet that day.”

The warmth disappears, again, when she smacks Brigham’s arm after he puts her drinks down. “I told you that in confidence! And I think it still counts because I’m a civilian and have done none of the training you guys do.”

“How did you even get permission to fly?” Javy questions, stealing a sip of her water, grinning at her when she glares.

“When I was in Florida, I got close with some of the higher-ups, and one of them arranged for me to go on a simple flight so I could see what it’s like. It was really sweet of him!”

“Who did you sweet talk into getting in a jet?”

“He sweet-talked me! Actually, it was more like he manipulated me. It came up that I’d never been on a flight - which is totally normal for an engineer, by the way - and he egged me on until I agreed to go up.”

“Oh my god, you got suckered into a ride with a flight school newbie? Who managed that?”

“I don’t know if you guys know him. I don’t think he was in Pensacola when you were going through flight school, but it was Admiral-”

“Hey, baby, wanna dance?”

Her face changes immediately, annoyance spreading quickly. “No. I’ve already told you I don’t. Leave me alone.”

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want this-”

“The lady told you no. I suggest you listen to her before we make you listen.” Omaha threatens from his position across the table. Bradley is happy that Neil spoke up before him because he wouldn’t have been so nice about it.

The pushy asshole looks around the table and decides not to press his luck after seeing eight men puffed up, ready to defend their friend.

“What a dick! He had a red wristband on, and he still tried to hit on you!”

“Welcome to being a woman, Mickey. Doesn’t matter if you’ve told them no or if they have a partner. Men will be gross and overbearing if they think it’ll benefit them.”

She sinks back in her chair, sipping her drink and sending a small smile to the boys in thanks. The group disburses a bit, most joining Nat and Callie on the dance floor, leaving Mary sitting with Fritz, Bradley, and Bob.

“Hey, speaking of gross and overbearing, did you hear the rumor that Admiral Cain is coming to the program review next week?”

It perks her back up; she excitedly leans forward, happy to talk about something else.

“Oh! That’s not a rumor, Fritz. That’s 100% true. He’ll be presenting his case for increasing unmanned drone research. But he’s going first on Tuesday, and then he’s back in Washington that same afternoon, so thankfully, we’ll only have to deal with him for a few hours.”

“Thank god, I had to deal with him for a little bit when I was at Norfolk, and he was worst. I know drones are getting more popular for high-risk missions, but they’ll never be able to fully replace pilots.” Billy clinks his bottle against Mary’s glass when she holds it up, swallowing the last of his beer. “You’ll have to excuse me; it looks like my husband wants me to dance with him.”

Bradley watches Mary stare longingly at the dance floor, her eyes following the happy couple dance in perfect sync with each other.

If you hadn’t messed up, that could be the two of you out there.

“So, what parts of program review do you have to sit in on?”

Mary turns, a soft smile on her face - Bradley knows her soft spot for Bob matches his own. Both of them protective over the younger man who cares so much, yet so quietly.

“I have to be there for almost all of it. I’m presenting a few sections, plus I have to do a shop tour and demo, which will be uber fun.” She rolls her eyes, knowing how some admirals like to knit-pick at how a shop is run and organized. “All my free time this week will be finishing my slides and polishing my presentation.”

“Wow, on top of helping with Lemoore’s repairs? You’re gonna be busy these next two weeks.”

“Very busy, but we’ve already done the repairs I’m helping with down here, so theirs should go much smoother! But I'm genuinely excited for program review because I’ll get to see some people I worked with in Florida! I think I’m going to try and poach a few of them that I really miss.”

“You’re gonna steal your friends to work for you?” Bradley regrets the question when he sees her face falter for a split second, realizing his tone wasn’t as joking as intended.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. They’re really smart and talented, plus it’d be nice to work with them again.”

The relief that breezes through his chest at her grin and kind tone quickly disappears when Harvard pops up and pulls her toward the dance floor.

“Hang- hang on!” She giggles, turning to Bob. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my purse while Brigham steps on my toes to bad 90s love songs?”

Bob’s, “No problem.” overpowers Harvard’s protests of, “I’m not gonna step on your foot again!”

She pecks his cheek, leaving a faint pink stain behind as she follows the Ohio man onto the dance floor. And for several songs, Bradley's stomach twists as he watches his two friends dance pressed close together.

“Why don’t you go dance with her?”

“She doesn’t want to dance with me.”

Bob scoffs. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Bradley, what happened with you two?”

He doesn’t answer; just keeps fiddling with the label on his beer and watching the dance floor. The two sit in uncomfortable silence for the first time in their friendship.

“I fucked up.” He confesses everything to Bob. The night on her couch, their interruption, the tiff just a few days ago. He doesn’t spare any detail, no feelings. “I still don’t know why I didn’t just let her explain! Even if I was mad that she was ignoring me, she had her reasons - she wouldn’t do something like that for no reason!”

Bob is stunned. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort his friend. None of the group’s theories had even been close to the reality of what happened.

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you, not even Natasha!” Bradley is borderline frantic. “You’re the second person I’ve told, and I don’t know if Mary has told anyone, but I don’t want everyone knowing. I don’t want what happened to be the talk of the group.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Bradley. Not even Nat. But I do get bragging rights when the two of you finally get together.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I messed up too much, man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

He looks where Bob is pointing, watching as Harvard twirls away with a pretty redhead, leaving Mary dancing by herself. They make eye contact, and he can see the gears in her brain working. She turns around, hips swinging hypnotically, and he loses his breath when she peeks over her shoulder at him. Bradley’s heart soars when she wiggles a finger at him.

She’s calling me over. Maybe I didn’t totally fuck this up.

His joy is short-lived. The same red wristband asshole as before getting in her space, trying to grab her ass as she pushes him away. Bradley practically falls out of his chair to get to her.

“Get away from me!” Mary pushes the stranger’s hands off and stumbles back from the force, colliding with Bradley’s chest as he comes to help.

He steps forward, angling his body to shield her as she tucks herself into his side. “She’s told you to leave her alone at least twice now. Walk away before we have a problem.”

The sleazy man rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man.”

“No, not “whatever,” man.” Bradley steps forward, disregarding Mary tugging on his arm. Her pleas for him to stop falling on deaf ears. “You’re going to apologize to her.”

“For what? The fat bitch probably liked it. She’s practically begging for it in that dress.”

Bradley doesn’t even think. He lunges, ignoring Mary’s yell for him to stop and taking the asshole down with one punch. He doesn’t get a second one, security interfering and escorting all three out.

The rest of the Daggers make their way outside, everyone awkwardly huddled together as Mary assures the bouncers that she is safe to leave with Bradley, that he’s her friend who was just protecting her from the other man’s unwanted advances.

She’s mad when she joins them. A quiet anger that's palpable, making them all stay quiet instead of joking around like usual.

“Thanks for planning this, Nat. It was really fun until about five minutes ago. I’ll text you about dinner.” She says to the girls, giving Bob a small smile when he hands over her clutch. “Bradley is going to drive me home, but you guys should keep having fun. Brigham, let me know when you want to leave tomorrow, and I’ll see the rest of you when I get back from Lemoore.”

Her clipped tone and her heels furiously clicking on the sidewalk are the only physical indicators of her anger. The group watches her go, stunned. In the year since they were introduced to Mary, it’s the only time they’ve seen her get close to losing her cool.

They had seen her defend herself against misogynistic pilots, making them feel foolish without even raising her voice. They watched her bite her tongue when admirals talked down to her because of her age, letting Mav or Cyclone handle it. In the past eleven months, they had witnessed her ability to handle difficult situations with poise and grace.

But tonight was too much.

After having to deal with yet another demeaning asshole and Bradley’s rash, unwanted heroics, the rage simmering below the surface of her skin was threatening to finally break through.

Bradley follows at a slower pace, keeping an eye on her but giving her space to breathe. He startles at someone grabbing his shoulder, turning with wide eyes to find Bob with a determined look on his face.

“Take her home and apologize; let her explain before you explain your side, okay?” Bradley nods, giving a small smile to his friend. “It’s all gonna be fine; you are made for each other. You can tell me all about how right I am tomorrow morning.”

He makes his way to the car, unlocking and opening the door for Mary, the tiny bit of hope from Bob’s pep talk disappearing when he realizes that she’s giving him the silent treatment. Climbing into the front seat and ignoring the hand he offers, closing the door herself and choosing to stare out the passenger window when Bradley sides into the Bronco.

The drive to her house is quiet; the only sound is the oldies station Bradley turns on in hopes of getting Mary to talk to him. The closer they get to their destination, the more he goes from sad to annoyed.

I was just trying to help. She doesn’t need to ignore me.

They’re both fuming by the time he pulls into the driveway. She slips out of the car, hoping he’ll just go home, but he’s following behind her to the house. One step over the threshold, and he can’t take it anymore.

“Are you gonna stop ignoring me, or should I just go home?”

He watches her shoulders stiffen and feels his stomach drop her eerily calm expression. “I don’t know. Are you actually going to listen to me? Or are you just going to tell me that we should just forget this happened, too?”

“Don’t put that on all on me! This isn’t all my fault! You ignored me for an entire month!”

“Yes! Yes, I did!” She slams her hand on her kitchen island. “And then, when I tried to explain, you didn’t let me say anything! You just said we should forget everything that happened and move on! So I tried to forget! I tried to respect your wishes! But tonight, all you could do was watch me dance with other men!”

His mouth drops open; he didn’t realize she had noticed.

“Yeah! I noticed - you pilots have all the subtly of an elephant in a firework shop with its tail on fire! It’s one or the other, Bradley! We either forget what happened and we see other people, or we talk about what happened and go from there! There’s no in-between option where you get to be upset whenever I flirt with a man that’s not you! So what’s it gonna be? Are we moving on, or are we having a conversation?”

He can’t get words to come out. He knows what he wants, but he can’t speak.

“Well, Bradley?”

Say something, dumbass! She’s not going to wait forever.

She scoffs, rubbing her hands over her face. “I’m going to shower. If you’re still here when I’m done, we’ll talk. If you’re gone, well, then I have my answer.”

He’s frozen in her dining room, wincing back to reality at her bedroom door slamming shut. His phone is ringing before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Rooster? Everything okay?”

“I think I fucked up.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “We fought, man. She noticed I was watching her tonight and yelled at me for not letting her talk last week.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m in her living room.”

“You’re still there? She didn’t kick you out?”

“She said if I’m still here when she’s done showering, we’ll talk about everything.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bradley.” Bob’s eye-roll is audible on the other end. “Sit down and wait for her to finish showering so you can talk. If she wanted you to leave, she would have no problem sending you packing.”

“You think?”

“She was two seconds from throwing a wrench at my head last week, and I’m her favorite.”

“Well, I don’t know about favor-”

“I am. Now, sit down, shut up, and wait for her.”

The line clicks, and he decides to listen to the advice, depositing his wallet and keys on her entryway table before sitting on her couch. Sinking into the middle cushion, he thinks about the last time he’d been on this piece of furniture.

“You’re so hard.” He’s not sure why she’s surprised. She has to know she’s had him on the verge of an erection since she opened her door this morning.

“You’ve been pressed against me for two hours in these tiny little shorts with no bra on, and you smell good.” He shrugs, feeling sheepish as he explains what got him going.

“Bradley..” The way she says his name borders on a moan, and he can’t help the noise he makes when she pulls his hair.

If she does that again, I’m going to cum.

He grabs her ass and pulls her as close as he can, brushing his other hand up her thigh and boldly dipping into the leg of her pajama shorts, enjoying the scalloped edge of her panties. Their lips brush, and he’s about to move his hand to the gusset of her underwear - he needs to know how wet she is for him - when they’re interrupted.

Between reliving that moment and crafting his apology, he doesn’t hear the shower turn off or her footsteps coming down the hall, only noticing her when she sits in the chair furthest from him.

“I’m sorry-” They start to apologize at the same time.

“I’d like to go first if you don’t mind?” She requests, taking a deep breath when he nods in agreement. “I want to start by apologizing for the last month. It was wrong of me to kick you out that night and then ignore you for a month, and I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I got scared. That night… I never do things like that. I never make the first move or act that bold. So the fact that I just climbed on your lap like that - without thinking about it or second-guessing myself - freaked me out. By the time I got Annie back to sleep, I had completely psyched myself out, and I was convinced you didn’t actually want me.”

“That’s- I- did I give any indication that I didn’t want you?” He sputters the question, unsure how she could think that.

“It’s nothing you did, Bradley. It’s all on me, my insecurities. Men rarely - if ever - have had the same… enthusiasm that you did. You were great; this is a me problem.”

“I don’t understand.” He leans forward, wanting to get closer without crossing the boundary she set with her seat choice. “If everything was so great, what went wrong?”

“I’m fat, Bradley.”

He sits up straight, shocked at her words. What does that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I still don’t get what the problem is.”

“I know you don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman, but please believe me when I tell you it’s hard. People are constantly policing and judging your body. Men will just tell you what they think of your body, what they think is wrong with it - unprovoked. And it’s even worse when you’re fat.” She leans back, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I know you didn’t do any of that. But I’ve been fat since I was a kid, so I’ve heard it all for years. And not just men, but from family too. It’s hard to shake those experiences, to ignore the insecurities and just enjoy the moment.”

They sit in silence for a minute, Mary refusing to make eye contact while Bradley tries to figure out his next move.

“Can I come over there?”

The question surprises her, but she nods. His choice to kneel in front of her is another surprise; he can tell from her eyebrows reaching her hairline.

“I’m gonna take this, okay?” He gently tugs the pillow from her hands, tossing it on the couch so there’s nothing between them. When Bradley sees her shirt, his breath hitches in his throat.

She’s wearing his sweatshirt.

“Sorry,” she says shyly, noticing his stare. “I’ve been wearing it to bed; I promise I’ll wash it.”

And as much as he wants to linger in the revelation that she’s been sleeping in his clothes, he pushes through.

“Mary, I’m going to be very honest with you because I need you to understand how much I wanted you that night. Sitting there with you in my lap? That’s the hardest I’ve ever been; I think about it all the time. How warm and soft you were.” He slips his hands into hers. “And I know what you look like. I like the way you look. I like everything about you. Everything. Even the things you don’t like about yourself. You’re so gorgeous.”

He wipes her cheek, brushing a tear away.

“This past month hasn’t changed how I feel about you. I still want you. I’ve never not wanted you. I’ve had a crush on you since the moment Danielle dragged you through the front door of the Hard Deck.”

“Bradley…”

“Not done, still my turn.” He leans up, getting closer to her to get his point across. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to fix this sooner. I was trying to give you the space you wanted, but that was a mistake. After the first week, I should have told you how I was feeling, what I wanted.”

“What do you want now?” Her voice is tiny, and his heart breaks at how uncertain she sounds.

“Still you, honey. I know I said we should forget what happened, but I don’t want to forget. I want to do that again without getting interrupted this time. I want to take you out on a date. I want you. If you’ll have me.”

He watches Mary wrestle with her thoughts, her mouth opening and closing, not sure how to say what she’s thinking. “Just tell me, Mary, whatever it is. I want you to be honest with me.”

“I want that too. I want you. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for it right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been flirting with me?” She nudges him back, scooting forward in her chair so her knees brush his chest.

He doesn’t understand the question but answers anyway, wrapping his hands around her legs, stroking his thumbs over her soft skin. “Since that night we met, I didn’t do too good of a job since you spent the evening playing darts with Jake, but that’s how long.”

“That was last January. You’ve been flirting with me for an entire calendar year. And I’m so oblivious that I didn’t even realize you were interested until you were grabbing my ass and moaning against my mouth.” She rubs her face. “So I just need some time to process this because I never thought this - us -could be an option.”

“Okay, how much time are you thinking? How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know… there’s no free time. I’m gone this week, and next week is program review and prepping you guys for deployment. Then you’re in the middle of the ocean for two months.”

“Doesn’t really leave a lot of time for us, does it?” He jokes, squeezing her calves. “We’ll be back the first week of May. There’ll be a few days of debriefing, but then I’m on leave. Why don’t we grab dinner that Sunday? It can be as friends or as something more, whatever you want - whatever you’re ready for at that point. How does that sound?”

“You’re okay with waiting that long?”

“Mariella, it’s been a year, and nothing has changed since I saw you in that red dress. A few extra weeks where we’re just friends? That’s nothing if it means you’re comfortable.”

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”

“Stop it. This isn’t all on you; I haven’t been the best either.” Bradley’s voice is firm, making sure she’s not placing the entire blame on herself. “We’ll work on it. We’re smart people; we can figure it out.”

“Thank you for being so understanding. I really am sorry about how I acted.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Feeling lighter than they have in weeks, they look at each other and laugh when Mary yawns, her face scrunching up.

“Okay, honey, I think it’s time to get you to bed.” He stands, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll call you when you’re at Lemoore, okay? We’ll talk about our days, and you can complain about Harvard.”

“Why would I complain about Brigham?” She blinks up at him, her eyebrows creasing after a second. “Wait! Are you saying goodbye? You can’t drive home right now; it’s too late!”

He tries to argue but is cut off by her finger pointing at the clock, the two hands telling him it’s almost three in the morning. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“C’mon.” She pulls on his hand, leading him down the hall.

“What are we doing?”

“Going to bed?” She squeaks when he abruptly stops, tugging her off balance.

“Mary, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Her face is baffled. “Bradley, you’re too tall; it won’t be comfortable. We can share my bed; we’re adults. We can handle it.”

His heart thumps. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, but he’s afraid of how his body might react to being next to her all night.

“Mary, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. I also want you to be comfortable, so if you don’t want to share, I’ll take the couch, and you take my bed.”

“But-”

“This is the whole communication thing we just talked about. Believe me when I say that sharing my king-sized bed with you for one night won’t make me uncomfortable.”

Bradley stares into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “Okay, lead the way then, Vertucci.”

It’s awkward for a moment in her bedroom, the two of them trying to navigate this new situation together. But after some blushing and a few stuttered words, they figure it out. He’s just finished brushing his teeth when they discover that Bradley’s preferred side of the bed matches hers.

“Two peas in a pod.” He jokes as he starts to climb into bed, heart fluttering at the bashful smile on her face.

“What are you doing?”

He freezes, covers pulled back with his knee raised. “Uhhh… getting into bed?”

“Not like that, you’re not.” His wide eyes must give away his confusion and panic because she continues. “Bradley, you are not climbing into my bed, which has nice fresh sheets, with those clothes you wore to the club. God knows what’s on those chairs we sat on.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“You are wearing underwear, right?” He nods, feeling baffled by how this night has progressed. “Then strip, you’re sleeping in your undies.”

Bradley stands there, looking at her snuggled under her quilt, bathed in the soft light of her nightstand lamp, and still wearing his name on her arm. Based on how serious she looks, he’s pretty sure she’s unaware of how flirty her words sound. If she was any other woman, he would make an effort to flirt back, try his best to be sexy as he undresses. Turn it into a striptease.

But it’s Mary, and they just got back to a good place.

So he undresses how he does when he’s alone. Unbuttoning his black shirt methodically, taking note of how her breath hitches when he pulls the tight material off, but not doing anything about it. If he has any control over their situation, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future to make her lose her breath.

He does allow himself to make eye contact while he undoes his jeans, unable to pass up the chance to watch her watch him. He sees her scan his body, can see the hunger in her eyes, can hear the small gulp when she sees the waistband of his underwear appear. He stays steady, folding the pants and draping them over his shirt before slipping under the covers, keeping a respectful distance between them.

“Gonna turn the light out?”

She blinks at him as she processes the question, her eyes hazy from the late hour, and he thinks about how he would love to have this view every night for the rest of his life. He watches as she rolls over, eyes slipping down to the skin that’s exposed when she leans to turn the lamp off. She ends up closer when she rolls back towards him; he can feel the heat of her body radiating towards him.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Mary’s voice is soft, like being too loud will ruin the small bubble they’ve created for themselves. “Do you like pancakes?”

The question makes him think of his mom, how she used to make pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because it was Tuesday. He never makes them for himself.

“They’re my favorite. Do you make good pancakes?”

“I make the best pancakes.” He can’t see her face, but he can hear her smile. “Night, Bradley.”

He mummers good night back, enjoying the way the mattress moves as she gets comfortable. The scent of her shampoo drifts over him, resurrecting the question that he’d been asking himself for a month.

“Mary? Can I ask you a question?” His voice is quiet, scared to ruin things but needing to know the answer.

She hums, “What’s up?”

“That night. If we hadn’t gotten interrupted, what do you think would have happened?” It’s quiet. He can hear her hands playing with the edge of the sheet, fingers nervously folding and unfolding the cotton. “I’m sorry, you don’t have-”

“No, it’s okay, Bradley.” A hand brushes his chest, warm fingers ghosting over his skin in search of his hand. She continues once their fingers are intertwined. “If we hadn’t been interrupted, we would have had sex. We would’ve made out for a while, and then I would have ridden you right there on the chaise.”

“Fuck…”

She makes a small noise of agreement. “I don’t know about after, though, if we would have had a better go of things that we have. It might have been worse, I’m not sure.”

“Can’t change the past. I’m just glad we’re fixing things now.”

“Me too.” Mary presses a small kiss to the tip of his fingers, squeezing his hand before rolling over. “Good night, Bradley; sleep well.”

“Night, Mary.”

I think I’m falling in love with you.

if you would like to be added (or removed) from the tag list please send an ask!

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fic tag | credit for dividers here

[kayas-kosmos]

Ko-Fi Challenge - 2024, the Year of Solarpunk!

[This post is intended for the Ko-Fi January 2024 challenge. However, I receive an error message every time I try to post this blog on Ko-Fi so I am uploading it here instead. I therefore don't know if I will quality for the challenge since I cannot get my posts to work, but it's worth a shot].

Hello everyone, I hope you are all having a great start to the year!

I have decided to dip my toes into the Ko-Fi January challenge and let everyone know about my plans for this year. Really, I only have one plan – Do something small every day to make the world a better place. But I plan to go about doing this in a big way.

The last several years have been extremely troubling with a lot of catastrophic Global crises happening on a daily basis. It's all around us and it feels inescapable. People are tired of the constant flood of bad news, they're tired of doomscrolling and they're tired of the deluge of films that portray some different flavour of the apocalypse. Even us artists can't escape into our art for comfort anymore because of the constant spectre of AI technology threatening to make our work obsolete. The future looks very grim and a lot of people are not looking forward to the year ahead.

That's where "Solarpunk" comes in.

Solarpunk offers an alternative to all of the doom and gloom and presents the idea of a bright future in the face of cataclysm. It is a movement both political and artistic designed to reignite our souls and excite imaginations with ideas rooted in science and observation of the world around us. Even if it is utopian, it's a utopia grounded in what is realistically achievable and the current tools we have at our disposal to succeed.

Here is a short video that gives a great summary of what Solarpunk is all about.

Now you know what Solarpunk is, here is where my art comes into all of this and what I am planning for the year ahead.

Flowerpunk.

The first and most important project I want to launch this year is Flowerpunk.

Flowerpunk is my webcomic that I have been developing since 2020. Taking place in a universe where magic has been reduced to nothing more than a commodity, the magic itself is starting to decay, causing the soul of the world itself to become sick. It is up to a group of punks and outcasts to take back the magic and heal the world of this rot.

For those who haven't seen it yet, I put up a trailer for the webcomic on Webtoon, Tapas and GlobalComix. Please check it out!

These first 9 chapters follow two main characters, Kimi and Ludwig. Kimi is a gentle soul who has a thing for pastel colours and Ludwig is a rebel with a burning spirit and big hopes.

They both have a pretty terrible taste in music as well!

A lot of work has already gone into this project. I have most of the world-building done, there's a whole myriad of magical creatures featuring in this universe and the first part of chapter 1 is only 11 panels away from completion.

Furthermore, Flowerpunk is an IP under a CC BY-NC licence, meaning that you can legally use my characters and creature designs for anything that is not monetised provided that credit is given.

"This license allows reusers to distribute, remix, adapt, and build upon the material in any medium or format for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator. Credit must be given to the creator. Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted."

To give some examples of what you can do:

~ Make derivative versions of my work (writing, art, AUs, etc...).

~ Make OCs from my species, or use them for your own stories removed from the original universe as long as the work remains non-commercial.

~ Use my creatures or character likeness for RP characters or in DnD/tabletop campaigns.

~ Using my work for any educational purposes (such as copying a drawing for an art study).

I want this project not just to tell a story of radical hope, but to also encourage the creativity of others and their own storytelling projects based in this universe.

But that's not all! Once Flowerpunk launches, this will lead me onto the next part of my plan which is...

Merch.

I would love to launch some new merch to help support Flowerpunk's development, including stickers, pins and most importantly, motivational posters. This image below is the kind of thing I am aiming for:

These posters will also be used on social media to help inspire people to take action and fight for a better world. And speaking of social media...

Social Media, TikTok and Twitch.

I plan to start Twitch streaming my process later in the year and I may even consider inviting guests to do chats and interviews with. This is inspired by the time I appeared on a LumiRue Twitch stream back in March of 2022 and the extremely productive conversation we had about art and activism. I also have shorter videos planned for my TikTok discussing a variety of topics, including Solarpunk (obviously), my webcomic universe, autism and disability and much more!

Recently, I created a Solarpunk feed for Bluesky and I plan to continue contributing more positive news and ideas to this feed. The feed consists of art, videos, book recommendation, games, real-world projects (such as re-wilding projects) and much, much more! The feed has seen a great success so far and I want to continue using it to spread positivity. I may even start inviting people to add their own contributions to the feed!

In Conclusion.

Despite the challenges we face this year, I feel like it's going to be a good one moving forward. There is a lot to look forward to and a lot of cool stuff on the way!

Also, I wanted to take a moment to thank all of the people who have supported me here on Ko-Fi over the years, it really means a lot to me and has helped so much. Even small donations make a huge difference, especially in times like these when things have become so precarious for artists.

Hope you're all excited!

[gerec]

2023 Fic Year in Review

Total Number Of Works:

15 new + updates to 3 pre-2023 fics

Total Word Count:

59,680

Fandoms I’ve Written In:

X-Men

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?

I never really have any expectation for how much I'm going to write so I guess it's what I expected? Though I continued my streak from last year with writing way more rare pairings/bottom!erik fic than I have in the previous years combined.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?

I didn't quite get the last chapter done before the end of the year but this turned out to be my favorite for the year :D

My Home Is You

Charles and Erik have always been close, and despite assumptions to the contrary, they've only ever been friends.

It takes them a while to figure out what everyone else seems to have known all along.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

Oh yeah definitely

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?

Same goal every year - finish some of my many WIPs.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?

AU-gust Challenge 2023

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion:

This year - everything I wrote with Erik/not!Charles pairings

Most Fun Story To Write:

Happily Ever After...Maybe

(The latest chapter of my actor au; I just generally love this verse, and wish my Muse would write more for it already.)

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

In The Dark

Late one night, someone visits Erik in his cell beneath the Pentagon.

(Apparently I only write canonverse anymore when it's dirtybad lol.)

Biggest Disappointment:

There were a couple of older fics I wanted to update that I didn't get around to doing this year.

Biggest Surprise:

Ummm....how much I enjoyed pairing Kurt Marko with Erik for some reason??????

The Innocence We Lose

Erik's mother gets a job as Mr. Xavier's live-in cook, and the two of them move from Brooklyn to Westchester to start a new life. Everything is going well for the Lehnsherrs in their new home, even with an absent employer who is currently finishing his PhD at Oxford.

That is...everything except for the presence of Mr. Xavier's stepfather Kurt Marko, who takes a vested interest in Erik and changes his life.

My Favorite Part Of Fandom This Year:

That everyone left/new to the fandom is super chill.

Full list of fics under the cut:

My Home Is You (Cherik)

Charles and Erik have always been close, and despite assumptions to the contrary, they've only ever been friends.

It takes them a while to figure out what everyone else seems to have known all along.

The Innocence We Lose (Erik/Kurt Marko)

Erik's mother gets a job as Mr. Xavier's live-in cook, and the two of them move from Brooklyn to Westchester to start a new life. Everything is going well for the Lehnsherrs in their new home, even with an absent employer who is currently finishing his PhD at Oxford.

That is...everything except for the presence of Mr. Xavier's stepfather Kurt Marko, who takes a vested interest in Erik and changes his life.

Birthright (Charles/Kurt, Charles/Cain)

At the tender age of thirteen, Prince Charles of Westchester is mated to his paternal uncle, Kurt Marko, the man who murdered his parents and usurped the throne. With no where to turn - and no one to help him - he is forced to become Marko's broodmare, and tasked to bear his children to continue the royal line.

Their eldest child, Crown Prince Cain is thirteen when he develops inappropriate feelings for his bearer.

AU-gust Challenge 2023

X-Men AUs with various pairings

Feels Like A Dream (Satisfaction Remix) (Charles/Shaw)

Charlie has a lot of first times with Sebastian Shaw. (A Dollhouse AU)

It's Complicated (Not My Baby Remix) (Cherik, Xavierine, Erik/Logan)

Seven months after the incident in Washington D.C., Charles contacts Logan with news that affects them both.

the hound's mate (prince of dogs remix) (Erik/Shaw)

The hound becomes Erik's constant companion. And Erik's pregnancy greatly affects both his mind and his body.

Heart's Desire (A Seduction Remix) (Cherik, Charpocalypse)

Ten years ago, Erik left Charles behind to chase after his maker, and to keep him from a life of darkness and death.

When they meet again in the bowels of an ancient ruin, he finds Charles irrevocably changed.

Sinful Days and Nights (Erik/Shaw, Charles/Shaw)

21. Sebastian is pleased with his new pleasure slave Erik and how well he's taking to his training. 22. *NEW* Charles agrees to a walk on the grounds with his stepfather's associate, Mr. Shaw, unaware of the alpha's nefarious intentions.

My Life To Duty Wed (Cherik, Charles/Jakob Lehnsherr)

Crown Prince Erik Lehnsherr receives word of his father's pending nuptials while he's away from the Capital, fighting in his first war campaign for Genosha. The news surprises him, though not nearly as much as finding out the identity of the soon-to-be Consort; Erik's childhood best friend Charles Xavier, omega heir of noble House Xavier.

My Future & Yours (Erik/Shaw, Erik/Alex Summers)

The island of Genosha offers sanctuary to mutants from all over the world; the chance to live amongst their own kind in a beautiful paradise. With no family left, Erik decides to travel half-way around the world to start a new life.

He does not expect to catch the eye of one Sebastian Shaw - handsome, charismatic, and leader of the mutant nation - and end up forcibly taken as his mate.

Can't Run From Yourself (Erik/Wanda, Erik/OMC)

Erik attracts the attention of three gorgeous alphas at his favorite club and throws himself wholeheartedly into a night of unbridled passion. He has no idea that the strangers aren't really strangers at all, and that the life he left behind has finally caught up with him.

Debts (Erik/Shaw)

Mr. Shaw comes to the store once a week, ostensibly to help Papa with the books. Wanda discovers the truth of it, when she spies them having sex through the vent between the office and the storeroom.

All In The Family (Charles/Kurt, Charles/Cain)

Kurt's unexpected passing leaves Cain and Charles alone and destitute, scrambling to find their own way in the world without money or the Xavier ancestral home.

He also left his step-son pregnant with his baby.

In The Dark (Erik/OMC)

Late one night, someone visits Erik in his cell beneath the Pentagon.

Patterns Repeating (Erik/OMC)

Sebastian has been dead now for almost three years, and Erik is finally settled - and happy - in his life with Shinobi and the rest of the children. But the growing bond between Erik and Jacob takes them down a painfully familiar path, and threatens to up-end the uneasy peace between the eldest Shaw siblings.

Happily Ever After...Maybe (Xavierine, Cherik)

Chpt 3. Logan misses Charles while he's away. And news of the sequel goes viral on social media.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - June 18th

I read so much this week!!! And so much was delightful I’m super excited about this list! I did re-read Bulletpoints this week which is 100% reflected in my fic reading as well. Enjoy that.  

Check out this week’s reads and be sure to leave your author a comment/kudos! 

~*~ 

Time, Space, Flesh by veryvincible 

“I’ve got a hotel room,” Tony said.

“And if we’re seen?”

Tony’s response came quick, too confident. He’d given the same spiel many times before. “Oh, you know. Good friends. Had a bit to drink. Maybe we’re French— you know how it is. Besides, we’ve been here for how long, now? If anyone was going to notice you, you’d think they’d have done it by now.”

The Day Before Tomorrow by lastdream

Less than twenty-four hours before the Iron Man's last fight, Steve Rogers gets an evening to himself.

Icebreaker by Sineala

Months after Tony is murdered on a strange, starless world, a world almost no one remembers, Steve plummets from a drone plane into the cold waters of the North Atlantic. He's fully expecting not to survive -- but instead he wakes up on another new world, where he meets a very familiar stranger. And it turns out the two of them have a lot in common.

Not Your Reality (The Time-Out Remix) by Veldeia

An unlikely visitor crash-lands at Natasha Stark and Steve Rogers' doorstep on the eve of their wedding. Just who is this alternate universe Iron Man?

Marriage and Mate Chases by NotEvenCloseToStraight

A Regency-ish AU:

Strict, stern Alpha Captain Steve Rogers is firmly in control of himself, his army, and his life and intends to marry an Omega who shares the same ideals while wild, flighty Omega!Tony loves to flaunt Howard's rules, society's expectations and has no intention of settling down.

An arranged marriage forces Alpha and Omega together, but Steve's constant disapproval and Tony's refusal to compromise leads to anger and arguments, missed heats, harsh ruts and a lack of bonding bites. Vicious rumours fly about the Omega's fidelity and the Alpha's ability to control his mate and when Steve runs away to war to distance himself from his unpredictable husband, Tony turns to new friends and illicit activities to hide his hurting heart.

Steve returns from war a changed man ready to be a good husband, dedicating every minute of every day to winning Tony's heart back, but Tony is tired of being ignored, busy with his own projects and unwilling to give the Alpha another chance.

With outside forces plotting to ruin what little happiness they have, are Steve and Tony doomed to be unbonded husbands, married but never truly mates?

Some Dragons Are Famous Dragons by Eudoxia 

Bucky's not surprised when Steve beings home stray cats, dogs, and even a raccoon once, but a dragon?

Really, Steve? A dragon?

A dragon that likes to steal tools and watch the news about missing persons, too.

Anthony and Natasha by TheCityLightShow

On Steve's sixteenth birthday, as was the norm, he woke up with a name on his wrist, etched beautifully into his skin. In blocky, scruffy handwriting now sat “Natasha Stark” on his left wrist.

It was elegant handwriting, but not in a way that anyone other than Steve would share the notion.

Now, he's out of the ice, and he lifts his wrist to his face as his vision swims for a second. Oh thank god, he thinks at the sight of the black blur that mars his wrist, and then his thought processes stutter and screech to halt because it's changed.

The handwriting is still the blocky scruffy script that he loves, that holds comfort for him in the cross of the t and the arc of the r, but it's not Natasha. It doesn't say Natasha Stark any more.

No, the name on his wrist is Anthony Stark.

This time – this new time, Director Fury explains to him, this time sixty seven years in the future – this time he will find him. Whether they're ninety like he should be, or closer to his actual age, Steve won't make the same mistake twice.

 He doesn't tell SHIELD that the name in their file is now wrong.

Emergency Protocol by navaan 

In New Avengers V1 era, Tony and Steve discuss the Avengers Protocol for Bang or Die situations. It's awkward. It gets hot - and then it gets out of hand but maybe they're getting to the heart of something that they should have discussed a long time ago.

You could have my heart, and I would break it for you by Missy_dee811

The mission they’d been on had been an abject failure. Even if the rest of the Avengers had been able to stay on task, it wouldn’t matter. Two of their own were missing: Iron Man and Captain America.

Sacrifice the Gift by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) 

When a biological agent nearly takes the life of Captain America, Iron Man risks everything to keep his friend alive. Now Tony Stark needs to deal with the fallout.

Sleepwalking by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Every year on Tony Stark's birthday, his soulmate Steven Grant Rogers crosses time and distance to spend the day with him...until the day the Valkyrie goes into the water in 1943.

Fifty years in the future, Tony starts a desperate search to find Steve beneath the ice, racing against time and fate to bring his soulmate into the newest century so they can finally be together.

like daylight by ohjustpeachy

Because through all of it, the slammed fists and the miscommunications, the people he invited into his bed and kicked out in the morning, he never thought that it would be Steve Rogers in the end.

Or, Tony thinks back on past relationships and why they never worked out.

Nothing Else but Miracles (An Ancient Secrets and New-born Dreams Remix) by Muccamukk

In the rough and tumble of the Lower East Side, the only constants in Steve's life are the solid black letters of the name on his wrist. Because even with the law and society against them, his world falling apart piece by piece, and his search for his soulmate taking him to stranger and wilder places, Steve has faith that finding Tony Stark is only a matter of time.

my one and only by meidui (orphan_account)

Tony has been self-conscious about his laugh lines lately, but Steve always takes his hands and kisses his face, telling him he loves them. It’s the truth. Tony looks so beautiful with them, and they remind Steve of what a privilege it is to grow old with him.

A bullet to mend our hearts by tonymystark

Tony is stuck in a time loop; he keeps getting thrown back to their fight in the quinjet before the whole invasion. He finally figures out how to end the loop.

Safe Haven by gottalovev, zappedbysnow

It's been three months since the Battle of New York. Four since Steve woke up in the future. Everything is still too fast, too bright, too glib. And then, as if it wasn't enough, Steve is dragged through a portal into an alternate universe. Other Him is happy, though, and that feels like hope.

No Good Deed by raeldaza for merelydovely 

Steve’s not happy in the future. Tony gets it in his head that he’ll be a good friend and create a time machine to send Steve back to the 40s.

But as time ticks on, and Steve and Tony grow closer, do either of them actually want Steve to use it?

I (created from fantasies) exist solely for you by Mizzy

Six years ago, without the Avengers Initiative there to save the day, scientist Dr. Eric Selvig sacrificed himself to save the world, the almighty demi-god Thor was lost to a terrible storm, and vigilante Iron Man – spotted with a nuclear weapon trying to take advantage of the situation – was forever labelled an enemy of SHIELD.

This is a comic book office AU, where Steve is defrosted a year too late, Thor has forgotten who he is, and no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

Also includes: office pranks, inappropriate post-it notes, and superheroes who like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

Bright Things and Fair by sheron 

The course of true love never did run smooth — and neither did time-travel to retrieve the Tesseract. When circumstances outside their control force Steve and Tony to spend more time together in the 1970, they do what two people with their history do under the circumstances: work together and try to get through it without unnecessary feelings getting in the way. Falling for each other is definitely a bad idea, isn't it?

[moon-drunk]

Uh I don't know how to talk about music really, and I am woefully suited through habit and attention to discover new music, but @penroseparticle tagged me to name my 5 current favorite songs, so I'll give it a shot.

Comme des Enfants by Cœur de pirate has been running through my head today. This was a constant repeat in my freshman year of university

Thick Skull by Paramore got the over-and-over-again treatment on my latest car journey as I tried to learn all the lyrics. Figure 8 from the same album is one I could listen to forever as well

Sunset Breakfast from Tunic OST by Lifeformed & Janice Kwan is about to become my morning alarm track (replacing Wii Shop Channel remix by @nickyflowers)

Corps by Yseult is another one throwing phrases here and there into my inner brain lately, probably because I'm exposed to more French lately than usual

Easy to Love by the Jezabels popped up from my ancient play history when I was trying to even recall what music I listen to and it was worth a listen again

Et voilà, mes choix.

[epic-and-kitty]

Twist - 🐶💛🎮💜

🐶 Does your OC have any pets?

Since Twist was nomadic for most of her life that she remembers, she really didn't have the means for a pet despite really wanting one. However, after she's adopted by Captain 3 (or Xero, as he prefers to be called) and allowed to live with him, she gets several pets from Frye and Shiver in the form of house warming gifts. Frye gives her an entire bed of garden eels, which act much like an ant colony would in our world, except the eels will sometimes play around in her tentacles and act as fashion accessories of their own free will, as well as a baby giant eel Twist names Mora. Mora will twist around Twist in a comforting manner as well as give her a lift if she's too tired to move.

Shiver on the other hand gifts her the runt of one of Mega's litters, a pup named Sammie. Sammie is a bit of a handful, constantly trying to eat furniture or Nom Nom (or Mora tbh) but Twist has made great lengths training him to be a good pup, even if he does try to nip at Nommy's fin hawk every now and then. (Don't feel too bad for Nom Nom, he is fully capable of protecting himself and has put Sammie in his place multiple times (Big Buddy anyone?))

Also, after Twist's "puddle incident", Mora and Sammie become guide animals for her as she recovers from not having a body. (Sammie by leading her and letting her lean on him when tired, and Mora by doing the same and being able to let Twist ride her in dire circumstances)

💛 How many languages does your OC speak? What languages are they learning?

Twist can actually fluently speak Octarian, Salmonid and Inklish, as well as read Octarian, Salmonid and Deep Sea Metro script.

Currently, she's learning to read Inklish as she simply couldn't decipher all the scripts of the language until she got help from Army and Mask. She's also learning Alternan with help from ORCA.

(Deep Sea Metro script is spoken like Octarian, but the script is completely different from written Dome Octarian and other dialects of Octarian)

🎮 What are three of your OC's favorite hobbies?

Twist ADORES sewing, especially sewing plushies for her and her friends. She's really good at it too. In fact, if you get a handsewn plush from Twist, you know she considers you a great friend.

Twist also enjoys researching humans and their culture. She sometimes goes back to Alterna just to go through all of ORCA's files on humanity (ORCA definitely doesn't mind the company or constant questions after 12000 years of silence) Twist's favorite band, Shine On Sea Dogs (a fan band of mine I haven't revealed yet), actually finds old human music records and remixes it while giving it a Mollusk Era twist and Inklish or Octarian lyrics (usually way off from the actual human ones, but they're trying their best).

Twist also just likes to walk around and people watch, or find places to enjoy nature in peace. In fact, the way she and Skull actually got to really know each other was when they both found the same cave like formation at Scorch Gorge and and decided to share it to watch the sunset/sunrise in occasionally. She likes her freedom to walk wherever and find a new place. (This does not help her and Skull not get horribly horribly lost though)

💜 What's your OCs ancestry/genetic background?

Aside from her being a pygmy octoling and a rare nine tentacled octo, Twist honestly doesn't know. She was found abandoned and half dead on Salmonid territory with no memory, she has no idea who she's related to or what's in her genes

(It's funny she gets along so well with Hue, her universe's Agent 8, who also is a rare tentacled octoling. They almost act like siblings)

(Technically, they kinda are. Twist is a clone of Hue, albeit far more...."customized" than he is, considering the differences in skin tone, size and of course gender. However, neither are currently aware of this, aside from Hue finding Twist "familiar" upon first meeting her.)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

An astronaut on the International Space Station took these images of the Quirimbas Islands along Mozambique’s coastline near Tanzania’s border on Nov. 24, 2021. The 32 small islands stretch 322 kilometers (200 miles) along the coastline and are partly linked o the coast by mangroves, sand bars and coral reefs. The light blue-green water surrounding the islands highlights the shallow complex of corals, sand and seagrass. The islands are home to an array of plants and animals including 3,000 floral species, with 1,000 being endemic, meaning they are only found on the islands. The islands’ waters host 52 species of corals, 140 species of mollusk, eight species of marine mammals and five species of turtles. Vamizi, one of the largest islands of the Quirimbas Archipelago, is an important nesting site for hawksbill turtles and green turtles. 170 green turtle nests were observed on the island from 2019 to 2020, making it the largest nesting site in Mozambique for the species. https://go.nasa.gov/3xdbWo8 

[NASA Earth]

* * * *

“At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang." In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over. 

Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra's breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms. When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. 

We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don't you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don't you dare."

- Caitlin Moran

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: The Timekeepers of Eternity

[The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

With The Timekeepers of Eternity, Aristotelis Maragkos accomplishes the impossible: he makes Tom Holland’s The Langoliers watchable.

The experiment is far from perfect, of course; the raw footage is, after all, so fundamentally flawed that no amount of re-editing, remixing, and recontextualization can totally “fix” it (the dialogue, for example, remains infuriatingly nonsensical, plagued by constant inconsistencies, contradictions, and inorganic leaps in logic). Still, by condensing the multi-episode miniseries—a format that is, in my opinion, inherently ill-suited to sustaining a narrative that features only two locations populated by roughly a dozen people—into a comparatively lean hour-long film, Maragkos at the very least addresses the source material’s clunky pacing, trimming a lot of excess fat and bloat.

Don’t get me wrong: I like rich, well-developed characters as much as the next viewer. The meat of this particular conflict, however, lies not in complex interpersonal relationships, but in the novel premise: our protagonists (a ragtag group of airline passengers) find themselves inexplicably stranded in an empty “past” that is rapidly vanishing beneath their feet, and must escape before they are devoured by the metaphysical forces that govern the universe. Although this dilemma is more than substantial enough to keep the audience invested in the action, the ‘95 cut of The Langoliers includes an overabundance of extraneous melodrama that stretches the otherwise straightforward plot to its breaking point, resulting in a severe lack of urgency. The Timekeepers of Eternity, on the other hand, omits nearly every detail that isn’t immediately relevant to the central concept, thus crafting a more economical, suspenseful experience.

But the movie’s remarkable metamorphosis is not merely structural; Maragkos remixes even the visual style. While The Langoliers’ cinematography was perfectly serviceable, it was also rather unambitious and uninspired, betraying its made-for-TV budget. The Timekeepers of Eternity’s shift to black-and-white adds depth and texture to the compositions, evoking the moody, haunting atmosphere of The Twilight Zone. The aesthetic alterations don’t stop with the color palette, either: Maragkos utilizes a variety of digital effects and filters in an effort to depict the story’s somewhat abstract, unconventional approach to “time travel” in literal, concrete terms. The image frequently warps and distorts, fragments and fractures, crumples and tears. Certain scenes are repeated in quick succession; others are truncated or overlap with concurrent events. Beyond contributing to the surreal tone, these expressionistic flourishes are also thematically appropriate, reinforcing the idea that the fragile fabric of reality itself is gradually unraveling around our hapless heroes.

Maragkos’ bold choices aren’t always beneficial; his revised ending is especially egregious, repurposing the original version’s final complication into a cruel, dark twist—an abruptly and arbitrarily nihilistic conclusion that left a bitter taste in my mouth. Nevertheless, the project is ultimately a resounding triumph, redefining the meaning of the term “transformative work.” The Timekeepers of Eternity is no shallow parody—a fan trailer that reimagines Ace Ventura as a tense thriller, or audio clips from Sonic the Hedgehog chopped up and reassembled to make Doctor Robotnik say dirty words; on the contrary, it’s a charmingly sincere reinterpretation (and rehabilitation) of an old, forgotten Stephen King adaptation that is, in retrospect, genuinely deserving of reevaluation. It is, in conclusion, innovative, audacious, and absolutely revolutionary.

[ajroach42]

Welcome to the new year! I’m glad you made the transfer without incident.

It is my Duty and Privilege to announce the public launch of a project I’ve been working on for the better part of a decade, This is Jupiter’s Ghost! It is a podcast set in the creative commons CC-BY-SA licensed universe of the Solar Federation. It’s a community initative, written and record by a small but growing group of contributors, which you are formally invited to join!

What is Jupiter’s Ghost?

Many things! Jupiter’s Ghost is a podcast (and possibly soon to be a cartoon from New Ellijay Television) set in the universe of the Solar Federation It’s a big universe against which lots of science fiction stories can be told, and it is my hope that Jupiter’s Ghost is the first of many.

Why is Jupiter’s Ghost?

The simple answer is that I’ve always wanted to tell hopeful stories about the future, and the crew of the Jupiter’s Ghost gets to exist in a world that, while still imperfect, is much better than our own. It gives me a chance to tell stories about how the world might be, if we work together, and how Freedom is a Constant Struggle, not something we reach, but something that we continue to reach for.

Basically, it gives me a chance to tell stories in a way that aligns with my values.

Please give it a listen, subscribe, review us on iTunes and Stitcher and Spotify and, eventually, when Google decides we’re worth indexing, Google Podcasts.

Share it with your friends, consider participating in the universe. Help us turn this in to something special.

That’s the meat of the post, but if you want to stick around I’m going to talk about what we’ve done, and why we’ve done it, and what we’re going to do next.

Like I said at the top, I started working on this thing nearly a decade ago. It before we closed Analog Revolution’s first physical location, before we moved across the country, before we moved back, and moved back, and moved back again. The current iteration of the thing entered the planning phases on the fediverse circa 2016, and then So Much life happened.

Thankfully, I have some great collaborators, and we’ve got it going. So let’s talk about what and why.

Why CC-BY-SA?

Jupiter’s Ghost is creative commons licensed, which means that anyone is free to share it, adapt it, remix it, or contribute to it. It’s specifically CC-BY-SA licensed, which means that if anyone does remix it, adapt it, etc. they are required to release their adaptation under the same terms. They don’t need my permission, approval, or support. They can, you can, just do it.

This was an intentional decision, and one carefully made to align with my values, but it has been a point of confusion for some folks so far, so let me unpack it.

I have written in the past about my appreciate of DIY Media and Fan Fiction, and the need for more creative works from normal people. I won’t rehash those things here, but the gist is that most of our modern collective folklore, the stories we tell one another and use to relate to the universe, are owned by Disney and a small handful of other companies and they use this position of power and control to harm us.

On this, Public Domain Day 2023, I invite you to consider the cautionary tale of Star Trek New Voyages. New Voyages should be a shining beacon of DIY Media. For those who are unfamiliar, it’s a fan series that imagines and recreates the rest of the Five Year Mission of the original Enterprise. It was a wildly ambitious project that dramatically improves in overall quality as it progresses, and it was made possible by the labor, skill, and creativity of a huge community of people.

and in 2016, Paramount decided it was illegal.

This is their prerogative as the owners of the “Intellectual Property” that is Star Trek under modern copyright law, but it stung. It stung even more when I discovered recently that there were Three finished episodes in post production and Crew on set Filming another episode when they ruling was handed down. Those episodes will never be released, they are lost, they are empty space in history. We are terrible stewards of history and Copyright makes it worse.

Now, I can imagine many of those reading this rolling their eyes at the idea that something of value was lost here. “Don’t want your project to be shut down? Don’t use someone else’s IP!” I can imagine you saying, and if our Copyright system was at all sensible, I could understand that argument, but it isn’t. Our copyright terms are too long, and they’re stifling and restrictive.

So, here’s Jupiter’s Ghost. Here’s The Solar Federation. Here’s a big open universe with Spaceships and Aliens and history and a future, in to which any number of stories can be positioned. You can use it however you want, as long as you credit us, and give back to the commons.

Now yes, it’s wildly optimistic to think that anything like Star Trek New Voyages would ever exist for our little old podcast, but it’s legal, it’s allowed, it’s possible, and it’s encouraged. That’s a better model for how copyright might exist and it’s a way we can live our values while producing media that reflects what we believe.

[paledoptera]

what is your LEAST favorite song you've made

see a lot of music artists would see this question and instantly go "my most popular song" because in a twist of irony it seems to be a chaotic universal constant that the work an artist puts the least thought or effort into usually ends up being their most popular work. my most popular work is probably that "it's been so long" lofi remix i made which i actually still listen to every now and again cuz even though i didn't put much into it it still SOUNDS good yknow

anyways my answer is overdrive from the antipathy ost, no amount of effort could save that trainwreck of a song

[sit-sempiterna]

At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.” In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over. Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms. When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.

Caitlin Moran

[sciencestyled]

Astrophysics TikTok: When Newton Moonwalked into Beyoncé’s Orbit

Picture this: the universe is throwing a rave. Every star, planet, and black hole is on the guest list, spinning, colliding, and generally acting like a celestial* version of a college house party at 2 a.m. (minus the cops). Now, imagine explaining all that chaotic, swirling glory through the medium of contemporary dance. That’s right—shiny leotards, awkward interpretive movement, and the gravitational pull of Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” hand choreography colliding with Einstein’s theory of relativity. Welcome to “Cosmic Choreography,” where astrophysics and jazz hands meet in an unholy yet mesmerizing matrimony.

Before you roll your eyes and mutter, “Not another metaphor,” let me just say this: if you can understand TikTok trends where teenagers reenact historical moments with badly lip-synced audio and cardboard crowns, you can absolutely grasp the orbital mechanics of planets through pliés and pirouettes (except, wait, no pirouettes—Isaac Newton just texted me in all caps, furious about centrifugal force).

Here’s the deal. Physics and dance are natural BFFs, like Ross and Rachel but without the toxic drama. They’re all about motion. When you break it down, the universe isn’t some static, boring PowerPoint slide. It’s a constant, chaotic swirl of things doing stuff—stuff like falling, spinning, and occasionally getting sucked into a black hole that’s basically the void at the bottom of your Venmo balance.

To explain planetary orbits, for example, we use circular dance movements (think of the Moon as your clingy ex—it’s always around but never quite the way you want). The choreography involves tight, repetitive footwork to demonstrate gravitational pull, while the "Sun" dancer plants their feet like an overachieving yoga instructor in tree pose, radiating smug stability. Throw in a hula hoop for flair, and congratulations! You’ve just choreographed Kepler’s laws of motion. Bravo.

But let’s take it up a notch because we’re not here to half-commit. We’re here for the kind of choreography that embodies the drama of black holes—the cosmic vacuum cleaners of the universe. To capture the existential panic of being spaghettified (real term, look it up), dancers perform elongated stretches that end with one hapless performer getting metaphorically “sucked in” by a group of others dressed in all black. Think modern art installation meets the horrifying realization that time literally slows down near a black hole. One dancer might even yell, “Time is relative, Karen!” for effect. That’s physics, baby.

Gravitational waves? Easy. It’s all about ripples. Picture a group of dancers lying on the floor, wriggling like they’ve just watched a horror movie about Wi-Fi outages. As a "binary star system" pair flings itself across the stage (read: two overcaffeinated performers aggressively spinning around each other like toddlers on a sugar rush), the ripples spread outward. Add some strobe lights and a dubstep remix of Carl Sagan’s voice saying, “We are made of star stuff,” and you’ve just made science education worthy of a Coachella headliner.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Okay, Mr. Wizard Wannabe, this sounds fun, but is it practical?” Well, first off, let’s not pretend practicality has ever stopped humans from doing ridiculous things. (Exhibit A: Crocs.) Secondly, dance as a teaching tool is shockingly effective. It’s like when your high school chemistry teacher did that one crazy experiment with fire and balloons, and suddenly you were invested. Dance taps into kinesthetic learning—basically, the idea that moving your body helps your brain go, “Ohhhh, I get it now!” Plus, nothing says “E=mc²” like watching a physics teacher attempt a cartwheel while explaining energy equivalence.

Science education is evolving, folks. Forget dusty textbooks with diagrams that look like they were doodled by someone who hates fun. Imagine a classroom where students choreograph their own "solar system dances." One group might embody Mars—swaggering across the room with extra attitude because it’s the “cool” planet everyone wants to colonize. Another could be Uranus, moving awkwardly sideways because, fun fact, it rotates on its side like a drunk uncle at a wedding. The point is, movement bridges the gap between abstract concepts and human experience. Also, let’s be real: nobody ever forgot that one classmate who insisted on twerking as a neutron star.

And it’s not just students getting in on the action. Scientists and choreographers are teaming up like it’s the latest Marvel crossover event. Picture an astrophysicist explaining gravitational time dilation to a room of professional dancers who respond with, “So, like, if we slow-mo crawl across the floor, that’s time slowing down near a massive object?” Yes. Exactly that. Now cue the interpretive solo about the theory of everything.

Of course, not everyone’s on board. There’s always that one person who says, “Why can’t we just stick to lectures?” To which I say, why lecture when you can voguingly explain the Big Bang? It’s like comparing black-and-white TV to Netflix—sure, both tell a story, but one’s way more binge-worthy. Besides, when students are literally in motion, embodying the push-pull of gravitational forces or the chaos of quantum particles, they’re more engaged. And if the classroom looks like a rehearsal for an avant-garde Broadway show? That’s just bonus entertainment.

Now, let’s talk impact. Teachers who’ve tried this approach report rave reviews. Students who used to zone out during discussions of orbital mechanics are now actively debating whether Pluto deserves a dance solo (spoiler: it does, and it’s a tragic waltz—wait, no, shuffle). One educator told me their students started choreographing TikToks about gravitational waves, complete with captions like, “When two black holes merge but you still can’t find your other sock.” That’s the kind of viral learning we need.

But beyond the memes and jazz hands, this method makes astrophysics tangible. For students who struggle to connect with abstract concepts, dance offers a way to see and feel the universe in motion. It’s not just about memorizing equations; it’s about experiencing the forces that shape our world and beyond. (And yes, “beyond” means I’m including intergalactic wormholes. Someone cue the worm dance.)

In the end, movement is more than just a metaphor. It’s a reminder that science education isn’t about sitting still and passively absorbing facts. It’s about engaging with the world—whether that means building a model solar system, debating string theory, or, yes, flailing your arms to represent supernova explosions. The universe, like a viral TikTok challenge, is better when you jump in and participate. So, the next time someone tells you that astrophysics is too complicated, just smile, cue up Beyoncé, and say, “If Newton can moonwalk, so can you.”

[ninabilotti]

Kevin Kelly's "The Inevitable" outlines twelve technological forces that will significantly impact sports advertising in the coming years.  As the industry evolves, advertisers will need to adapt to a landscape that includes constant upgrades, AI-driven personalization, and real-time data streams. The shift from traditional media to digital platforms will result in sports content increasingly being accessed through streaming services, requiring advertisers to focus on these channels. Every surface will become a potential screen, opening up new possibilities for immersive experiences through augmented and virtual reality. Social media and user-generated content will play a crucial role, with advertisers encouraging content sharing and remixing to boost engagement. Intense personalization will allow for anticipation of fan desires, while interactive ads will allow for deeper connections with audiences. Enhanced data tracking will enable better understanding of viewer behavior, optimizing ad placements and measuring success more accurately. The focus of advertising may shift towards promoting engagement and discussion rather than simply delivering messages. As these technologies integrate, sports advertising will become more personalized, interactive, and data-driven across multiple platforms. The industry is still in the early stages of this transformation, but significant growth is expected. To thrive in this new environment, advertisers will need to leverage AI, real-time data, and innovative formats to create seamless, engaging experiences that resonate with sports fans in meaningful ways.

[j-star-blog]

Don’t Give In

My current goal is to let my creativity do its thing. Whenever I’m out of ideas I come back to the short creations I make and I see what I can add to them to finally finish them. I also have a lot of old recordings of songs I have to finish. They are very helpful so to constant create and cross off the list. I also like to remix my old songs. Sometimes the instrumental interpretation changes with the years. Have fun! And don’t give up! 

I have deleted my creations before, thinking they were never good enough. Horrible quality. Believing they are heinous for people to hear. And that is extremely painful.. to lose an important piece of your life you cannot ever go back to. I also had my iPad stolen years ago that had ALL of my albums and songs in a list for what was next. With vocal and guitar demos of songs. The full journey of my emotions.. gone. It lead me to a year of depression.  I stopped playing my guitar entirely. I lost a lot of skills I had in the past. Though it was worth it. 

Whenever you no longer have “a life line” to pull. Whenever you’re completely out of inspiration. Don’t give up! Sometimes pausing gives you more time to understand art that is constantly flowing in the universe. We are one with the earth. And the earth constantly sings along with us. I am lucky that I am able to remember songs from my dreams. I’ve created a few. Even if I can’t, it’s an inspiration to continue.

I’m hopeful you all continue perusing your dreams as artists. Don’t think bad quality is a barrier. All is learned. All is known. It just takes time to remember. Thank you for reading this post!